12. Balancing
"Hugwo!" Gummy called as soon as he got out of the car.
I turned toward the house, beckoning to BMO as I ducked under the porch. I heard Gummy greeting them loudly behind me.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," he said disapprovingly.
"We get permits early on there," BMO said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.
"Sure you do," Gummy laughed.
"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Hugwo's resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child.
I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Gummy and BMO helped Hugwo out of the car and into his wheelchair.
I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.
"This is a surprise," Gummy was saying.
"It's been too long," Hugwo answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.
"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."
BMO grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."
Hugwo made a face at his son. "And, of course, BMO was anxious to see Bonnie again," he added. BMO scowled and ducked his head while I fought back a surge of remorse. Maybe I'd been too convincing on the beach.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Hugwo's searching gaze.
"Naw, we ate just before we came," BMO answered.
"How about you, Gummy?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.
"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Hugwo's chair follow.
The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.
"So, how are things?" BMO asked.
"Pretty good." I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"
"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.
"Sorry. I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"
"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he added suddenly.
"No."
"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."
I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."
"Nice ride." BMO's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."
I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.
"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."
"BMO, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink.
"Sure."
He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.
"So who was it?" he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.
I sighed in defeat. "Marceline Abadeer."
To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.
"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."
"That's right." I faked an innocent expression. "He doesn't like the Abadeers."
"Superstitious old man," BMO muttered under his breath.
"You don't think he'd say anything to Gummy?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.
BMO stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Gummy chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since— tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."
"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.
I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Gummy, pretending to watch the game while BMO chattered at me. I was really listening to the men's conversation, watching for any sign that Hugwo was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.
It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Hugwo alone with Gummy. Finally, the game ended.
"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" BMO asked as he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.
"I'm not sure," I hedged.
"That was fun, Gummy," Hugwo said.
"Come up for the next game," Gummy encouraged.
"Sure, sure," Hugwo said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bonnie," he added seriously.
"Thanks," I muttered, looking away.
I headed for the stairs while Gummy waved from the doorway.
"Wait, Bonnie," he said.
I cringed. Had Hugwo gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living room?
But Gummy was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.
"I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"
"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. "My badminton team won all four games."
"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."
"Well, actually I can't, but my partner is really good," I admitted.
"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.
"Um… Marshall Lee," I told him reluctantly.
"Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Lee kid." He perked up. "Nice family." He mused for a minute. "Why didn't you ask him to the dance this weekend?"
"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Fiona. Besides, you know I can't dance."
"Oh yeah," he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess it's good you'll be gone Saturday… I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I'd stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much."
"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've never minded being alone— I'm too much like you." I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.
I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Hugwo and BMO seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Gummy noticed.
"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.
I shrugged. "It's Friday."
I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Gummy left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Gummy would be out of sight, Marceline was faster. She was waiting in her shiny car, windows down, engine off.
I didn't hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to see her face. She grinned her crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn't imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about her that could be improved upon.
"How did you sleep?" she asked. I wondered if she had any idea how appealing her voice was.
"Fine. How was your night?"
"Pleasant." Her smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.
"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.
"No." She grinned. "Today is still mine."
She wanted to know about people today: more about Bubble, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known, my few school friends — embarrassing me when she asked about boys or girls I'd dated. I was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn't last long. She seemed as surprised as Fiona and HDP by my lack of romantic history.
"So you never met anyone you wanted?" she asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what she was thinking about.
I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Phoenix"
Her lips pressed together into a hard line.
We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of her brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.
"I should have let you drive yourself today," she announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.
"Why?" I demanded.
"I'm leaving with Flame after lunch."
"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that far of a walk."
She frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."
"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking." What I minded was losing my time with her.
She shook her head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition — unless you're afraid someone might steal it." She laughed at the thought.
"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if she broke into my house, or whatever she was planning, she'd never find it. She seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. She smirked, overconfident.
"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.
"Hunting," she answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." Her face grew morose… and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."
I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of her eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear her, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter, I repeated in my head.
"No," I whispered, glancing back at her face. "I can't."
"Perhaps you're right," she murmured bleakly. Her eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched.
I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of her leaving now.
"That depends… it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" she offered.
"No," I answered too fast. She restrained a smile.
"The same time as usual, then," she decided. "Will Gummy be there?"
"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.
Her voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"
"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I've been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."
She scowled at me and I scowled back. Her anger was much more impressive than mine.
"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.
"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." She seemed bemused by my casual reference to her secret realities.
"Why are you going with Flame?" I wondered.
"Flame is the most… supportive." She frowned as she spoke.
"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"
Her brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."
I peeked quickly behind me at her family. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, dark-haired sister sat across from me, her golden eyes troubled.
"They don't like me," I guessed.
"That's not it," she disagreed, but her eyes were too innocent. "They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."
I grimaced. "Neither do I, for that matter."
Marceline shook her head slowly, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling before she met my gaze again. "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me."
I glared at her, sure she was teasing now.
She smiled as she deciphered my expression. "Having the advantages I do," she murmured, touching her forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."
I looked away, my eyes wandering back to her family, embarrassed and dissatisfied. Her words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.
"That part is easy enough to explain," she continued. I felt her eyes on my face but I couldn't look at her yet, afraid she might read the chagrin in my eyes. "But there's more… and it's not so easy to put into words —"
I was still staring at the Abadeers while she spoke. Suddenly Lady, her blond and breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look — to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Marceline broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under her breath. It was almost a hiss.
Lady turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Marceline — and I knew she could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.
Her face was tight as she explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…" She looked down.
"If?"
"If this ends… badly." She dropped her head into her hands, as she had that night in Port Angeles. Her anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort her, but I was at a loss to know how. My hand reached toward her involuntarily; quickly, though, I dropped it to the table, fearing that my touch would only make things worse. I realized slowly that her words should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem to feel was an ache for her pain.
And frustration — frustration that Lady had interrupted whatever she was about to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again. She still had her head in her hands.
I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?"
"Yes." She raised her face; it was serious for a moment, and then her mood shifted and she smiled. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology — I don't think I could take any more."
I started. Flame — her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face — was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness.
She greeted her without looking away from me. "Flame."
"Marceline," she answered, her high soprano voice almost as attractive as her.
"Flame, Bonnie — Bonnie, Flame," she introduced us, gesturing casually with her hand, a wry smile on her face.
"Hello, Bonnie." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Marceline flashed a dark look at her.
"Hi, Flame ," I murmured shyly.
"Are you ready?" she asked her sister.
Her voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."
She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.
"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to her.
"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." She grinned.
"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool her.
"I'll try." She still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."
"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."
"For you it is a challenge." Her jaw hardened. "Promise."
"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight — that ought to be fraught with peril."
"Don't fall in," she mocked.
"I'll do my best."
She stood then, and I rose, too.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.
"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" she mused.
I nodded glumly.
"I'll be there in the morning," she promised, smiling her crooked smile. She reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone again. Then she turned and walked away. I stared after her until she was gone.
I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a warning instinct stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, Marshall and others would assume I was with Marceline. And Marceline was worried about the time we'd spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer for her.
I intuitively knew — and sensed she did, too — that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon her decision, or her instincts. My decision was made, made before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from her. It was an impossibility.
I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn't honestly say what happened in Biology; my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In Gym, Marshall was speaking to me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained that I'd canceled my trip, worried about my truck.
"Are you going to the dance with Abadeer?" he asked, suddenly sulky.
"No, I'm not going to the dance at all."
"What are you doing, then?" he asked, too interested.
My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly.
"Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to fail."
"Is Abadeer helping you study?"
"Marceline," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. She's gone away somewhere for the weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted with surprise.
"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group anyway — that would be cool. We'd all dance with you," he promised.
The mental image of Fiona's face made my tone sharper than necessary.
"I'm not going to the dance, Marshall, okay?"
"Fine." He sulked again. "I was just offering."
When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I couldn't see how she would have retrieved my truck. Then again, I was starting to believe that nothing was impossible for him. The latter instinct proved correct — my truck sat in the same space she'd parked his Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.
There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I unfolded it. Two words were written in her elegant script.
Be safe.
The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.
When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the dead bolt unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked just the same as I'd left it, too. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I'd hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.
Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Marshall, I called Fiona on the pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same wish for my day with Marceline, I told her about the cancellation. She was more disappointed than really necessary for a third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that.
Gummy was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna — it was hard to tell with Gummy.
"You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.
"What's that, Bon?"
"I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Fiona or someone else can go with me."
"Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"
"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do… homework, laundry… I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I'll be in and out all day… you go and have fun."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish — we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."
"You're sure easy to live with, Bonnie." He smiled.
"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my laughter was off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I almost took Marceline's advice and told him where I would be. Almost.
After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer. Unfortunately it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled her note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words she'd written. She wants me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. And what was my other choice — to cut her out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it really seemed like my life was about her.
But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very much… if it ended badly.
I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done before. I deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine — the kind that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn't condone that type of behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it was impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of CDs until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold pills took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.
I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my drug use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Gummy was gone. A thin layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.
I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.
I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there she was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at her face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with her here.
She wasn't smiling at first — her face was somber. But then her expression lightened as she looked me over, and she laughed.
"Good morning," she chuckled.
"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.
"We match." She laughed again. I realized she had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing underneath, and tight dark jeans. I laughed with her, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did she have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?
I locked the door behind me while she walked to the truck. She waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.
"We made a deal," I reminded her smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching over to unlock her door.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already."
I gave her a dirty look as I complied.
"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.
"Take the one-oh-one north" she ordered.
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling her gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I retorted.
We were soon out of the town limits, despite her negativity. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.
"Turn right on the one-ten," she instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently. "Now we drive until the pavement ends."
I could hear a smile in her voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving her right to look over and be sure.
"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered. "A trail."
"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.
"Is that a problem?" She sounded as if she'd expected as much.
"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if she thought my truck was slow… "Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."
Five miles. I didn't answer, so that she wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.
We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror. "What are you thinking?" she asked impatiently after a few moments. I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."
"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.
"Gummy said it would be warm today."
"And did you tell Gummy what you were up to?" she asked. "Nope."
"But Fiona thinks we're going to Seattle together?" She seemed cheered by the idea. "No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true."
"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now. "That depends… I assume you told Flame?"
"That's very helpful, Bonnie," she snapped.
I pretended I didn't hear that.
"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" she demanded when I ignored her.
"You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I reminded her.
"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me —if you don't come home?" Her voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
She muttered something under her breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't understand.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated disapproval rolling off of her, and I could think of nothing to say.
And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because she was angry with me and I didn't have driving as an excuse not to look at her. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.
I heard her door slam, and looked over to see that she'd removed her sweater, too. She was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.
"This way," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. She started into the dark forest.
"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to her.
"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."
"No trail?" I asked desperately.
"I won't let you get lost." She turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. Her white shirt was sleeveless, and she wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of her smooth throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of her chest, her perfect cleavage no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. She was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this godlike creature could be meant for me.
She stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.
"Do you want to go home?" she said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating her voice.
"No." I walked forward till I was close beside her, anxious not to waste one second of whatever time I might have with her.
"What's wrong?" she asked, his voice gentle.
"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."
"I can be patient — if I make a great effort." She smiled, holding my glance, trying to lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.
I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. She scrutinized my face.
"I'll take you home," she promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew she thought it was fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one person whose mind she couldn't hear.
"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better start leading the way," I said acidly. She frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and expression.
She gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.
It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and she held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When her straight path took us over fallen trees or boulders, she would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear. Her cold touch on my skin never failed to make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on her face that made me sure she could somehow hear it.
I tried to keep my eyes away from her perfection as much as possible, but I slipped often. Each time, her beauty pierced me through with sadness.
For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally she would ask a random question that she hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. She asked about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on the whole institution. She laughed at that, louder than I was used to — bell-like echoes bouncing back to us from the empty woods.
The hike took me most of the morning, but she never showed any sign of impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never find our way out again. She was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.
After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as she'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly turned to impatience.
"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.
"Nearly." She smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"
I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"
She smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."
"Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. Her smirk grew more pronounced. But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. She let me lead now, following noiselessly.
I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with her, but she wasn't behind me where I thought she'd be. I spun around, searching for her with sudden alarm. Finally I spotted her, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Marceline and the sun, which she'd promised to illustrate for me today.
I took a step back toward her, my eyes alight with curiosity. Her eyes were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to her with my hand, taking another step back to her. She held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.
Marceline seemed to take a deep breath, and then she stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.