He held up a fist of fragrant purple flowers when she opened the door. “You’re avoiding me, so I’m stalking you.”
Andre shoved her face into the petals and inhaled. “Ooh. These smell amazing.”
“What are they?” Ryan asked, following her inside. “I was over at my parents. I just stole some from Mrs. Edgelow’s yard.”
“Lilacs, I think,” Andre stood on her tiptoes to open a cabinet and reached for a thick glass vase on the third shelf. He stretched over her easily and handed it down. “You stole flowers from an old woman?” She shook her head.
“It’s a huge bush. There’s plenty. Besides, she owes me. Seth and I have mowed her lawn every summer for the last I-don’t-know-how-many years.”
She filled the vase with water from the sink and put the lilacs in it. She plucked a flower and brought it right up to her nose, so the soft petals brushed against her face and breathed in the sweet, indigo scent.
“You mow her lawn—that’s nice.”
He shrugged. “So, you’re sick? What’s the matter with you? Are you dying? I tried to invite you to dinner tonight.” Ryan was a nice guy who was always having nice dinners with his nice parents.
Andre hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s a stomach thing. I was throwing up yesterday. Ben had it too. I’m feeling better now, though.” She went back to the living room and sat on the couch. “You probably shouldn’t stay, I don’t want you to get sick.” She glanced at the back door. “Believe me—you don’t want this.”
“Yeah, actually I had food poisoning a few years ago, and it was pretty awful. But I’m willing to expose myself for my Bumblebee. I’ve missed you.” He plopped down next to her.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “How was Arizona?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hot. I was working nonstop.” Ryan was a chemical engineer and the hardest working person she knew. He had only been two spots away from being valedictorian at their huge high school and had graduated with honors from Stanford two years ago. He was looking into grad school at MIT. He wasn’t a moody musician or flaky artist like most of their little tribe. He was a sweet, card-carrying dork built like a football player. His hobbies outside of his demanding job were playing video games and reading science fiction. In the beginning, his appearance in their circle of friends was as rare as Andre’s, but there had always been a little something there. They’d both been somewhat shy back then, but two years ago, he’d asked her out for coffee, and they’d slowly started dating.
Her eyes drifted to the back door again. For a flash, Andre thought of telling him. She swallowed, felt a little shiver down her spine. She stretched her arms and feigned a yawn until it became real. “Well, I’m going to go to bed now.”
“All right then.” He sounded disappointed.
Andre felt a tug, looking at him. The world is different now. I don’t know how I will keep this from you.
Ryan pulled out his phone. “Seth was going to have some people over maybe. I might head over to his place.” Ryan’s brother Seth was two years older and also an engineer.
Andre slept fitfully that night. She sweated and tossed and turned from vivid dreams of a night in the woods. There were bats and butterflies in the moonlight amidst the trees. They fluttered around, taunting her.
Chapter FIVE
The following Saturday, Ben woke to the soundtrack of a dream, the plot of which evaporated as he opened his eyes. The ballad in his head was grave and urgent. He’d been a participant in an epic saga comprising danger and sacrifice on a dazzling, cinematic scale.
He plopped into his leather swivel chair at his desk next to his bed and tuned his guitar. He knew he should call Andre and check in with her; he should take Hammer out, he should go look to see what Shae was up to. But he needed to play.
This was the third song he’d collected in the last few days. They came in his sleep or while he was doing something mindless. Lyrics were not formed, but he knew their shape and where they would fit. He sat for two hours slamming and plucking in bliss, his eyes half-closed playing the new song over and over. Eventually, he laid the guitar on his bed, went over to his keyboard, and played it there, making alternating tones and beats at different parts like dabbing colors and highlights to a painting. Then he went back to the guitar and started a different one.
When the last strum dissipated in a brassy cloud, he sank back into his chair, his mind pleasantly barren except for the vague craving of a cigarette. He picked his phone up off the dresser. Ben exchanged a few texts with Mateo and then finally made a long-overdue call to Ricardo to hear his firsthand account of the Shrine festival and how Stepfather’s gig went at the Cloud Lounge.
He then went downstairs and made coffee and toast. He was vaguely aware that he hadn’t been eating much. He glanced at Hammer, basking in the sun in his usual spot on the faded blue rug beneath the kitchen window.
Hammer waddled over to him and put his face in Ben’s lap. “What’s up, buddy?” Ben rubbed his head. “Let’s go outside.” He checked the shed, but Shae wasn’t there. She had wandered the park alone yesterday, so he figured she was just out and about somewhere again.
It was a perfect summer day; the sky was cloudless cobalt, and the temperature was like bathwater. He grabbed a tennis ball from Hammer’s ancient clapboard doghouse. Hammer didn’t use it much these days, preferring his spot on the blue rug in the kitchen.
Ben held the ball aloft as he opened the gate, and they entered the park. Hammer jumped halfheartedly and barked. When they reached the bottom of the incline, Ben hurled the ball off into the trees, and Hammer bounded after it. The past few days, he usually just brought his guitar outside and played while Hammer lay in the yard.
They struck off left, going down a narrower path than the one he’d taken Shae along. It led to the same stream but took a little longer to get there and led to a broader expanse of water. As he took the damp ball from Hammer’s mouth, the song rose inside him again. He’d not brought his headphones, he realized. Ben usually listened to music. He always listened to music, but he hadn’t needed to put his headphones on since discovering Shae.
This path rose in a steep but small hill before it meandered back to the stream. He grabbed an overhanging limb to steady himself, and it snapped off.
“Here, boy, Hammer!” he called, and Hammer trotted along the top of the hill, running parallel to meet him. The path down was a little overgrown but cleared up as they got closer to the water. Ben threw the ball, and Hammer took off after it through the trees. From somewhere Ben couldn’t see, Hammer began barking. Then he emitted a rare, primal growl, which Ben had only heard a handful of times in his life. The fine hairs on his neck rose. There were several more barks, followed by silence. A far-off rustling sound grew closer. Hammer bounded back, barking urgently, slamming his front legs into Ben’s. “What’s up? What’s the matter?” Then his dog ran back up the hill with more speed than Ben knew was still possible in the old dog. When Hammer reached the top, he turned, panting, and looked back to Ben. He barked and tossed his head in the direction of home. The message was clear.