BALANCING
“Fleamont!" Lyall called as soon as he got out of his car.
I turned toward the house, motioning to James for him to follow as I ducked under the porch. I heard Lyall greeting him loudly behind me.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you behind the wheel, young boy.”
“We get permits early on the rez,” James said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.
Lyall laughed. “Sure you do.”
“I have to get around somehow.” I recognized Fleamont’s deep voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, just 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 Lyall and James helped Fleamont 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,” Lyall was saying.
“It’s been too long,” Fleamont 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.”
James grinned. “I think that’s the plan—our TV broke last week.”
Fleamont made a face at his son.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, turning toward the kitchen. Fleamont's searching gaze made me uncomfortable.
“Naw, we ate just before we came,” James answered.
“How about you, Lyall?” I called over my shoulder as I escaped around the corner.
“Sure,” he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Fleamont’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?” James 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 on the bottom side. “I got a ride with a friend.”
“Nice ride.” James' 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.”
“James, 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. “Sirius Black.”
To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced down at him.
“Guess that explains it, then,” he said. “I wondered why my dad was acting so strange.”
I faked an innocent expression. “That’s right. He doesn’t like the Blacks.”
“Superstitious old bat,” James muttered under his breath.
“You don’t think he’d say anything to Lyall?” I couldn’t help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.
James stared at me for a minute, and I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.
“I doubt it,” he finally answered. “I think Lyall 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 like it didn’t matter much to me either way.
I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Lyall, pretending to watch the game while chatting absently with James.
Mostly I was listening to the adults’ conversation, watching for any sign that Fleamont was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he started.
It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Fleamont alone with Lyall. Finally, the game ended.
“Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?” James asked as he pushed his mother over the lip of the threshold.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I hedged.
“That was fun, Lyall,” Fleamont said.
“Come up for the next game,” Lyall encouraged.
“Sure, sure,” Fleamont said. “We’ll be here. Have a good night.” His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. “You take care, Remus,” he added seriously.
“Thanks,” I muttered, looking away.
I headed for the stairs while Lyall waved from the doorway.
“Wait, Remus,” he said.
I cringed. Had Fleamont gotten something in before I’d joined them in the living room?
But Lyall 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, trying to think of 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… McKayla Newton.”
“Oh yeah—you said you were friends with the Newton girl.”
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 said, hoping my relief didn’t show. “I’ve never minded being alone—I’m too much like you.” I grinned 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, I felt almost high, my mood was so optimistic. The tense evening with Fleamont and James seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was yanking a comb through my hair, and later again as I hurtled down the stairs. Lyall 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 Lyall left. I had my bag packed, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Lyall would be out of sight, Sirius was faster. He was waiting, windows down, engine off.
I didn’t hesitate this time as I climbed into the passenger seat. He flourished his dimples, and my chest did its mini–heart attack thing. I couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful—human, god, or angel. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.
“How did you sleep?” he asked. I wondered if he knew just how irresistible his voice was, if he made it that way on purpose.
“Fine. How was your night?”
“Pleasant.”
“Can I ask what you did?”
“No.” he grinned. “Today is still mine.”
He wanted to know about people today: more about my mom, her hobbies, what we’d done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I’d known, my few school friends—and then I was going red in patches when he asked about guys I’d dated. I was relieved that I’d never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn’t last long. He seemed surprised at my lack of romantic history.
“So you never met anyone you wanted?” he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.
“Not in Phoenix.”
His lips pressed together into a thin line.
We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the pattern that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my sandwich.
“I should have let you drive yourself today,” he said suddenly.
I swallowed. “Why?”
“I’m leaving with Andy after lunch.”
“Oh.” I blinked, disappointed. “That’s okay, it’s not that far of a walk.”
He 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 him.
He shook his head. “Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition—unless you’re afraid someone might steal it.” he laughed at the thought.
“Okay,” I agreed. 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 he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he’d never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.
“So where are you going?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
“Hunting,” he answered grimly. “If we’re going to be alone together tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I can.” His face was suddenly sad… and pleading. “You can always cancel, you know.”
I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I would not let him talk me out of our day alone, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn’t matter, I repeated in my head.
“No,” I whispered, glancing back at his face. “I can’t.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured. His eyes almost seemed to darken in color as I watched.
I changed the subject. “What time tomorrow?” I asked, already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.
“That depends.… It’s a Saturday. Don’t you want to sleep in?” he offered.
“No,” I answered too fast, and he grinned.
“Same time as usual, then?”
I nodded. “Where should I pick you up?”
“I’ll come to your place, also as usual.”
“Um, it doesn’t help with the Lyall situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway.”
His smile was superior now. “I wasn’t intending to bring a car.”
“How—”
He cut me off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there, no car. No chance that Lyall will see anything out of the ordinary.” His voice turned hard. “And then, if you don’t come home, it will be a complete mystery, won’t it?”
“Guess so,” I said, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll get on the news and everything.”
He scowled at me and I ignored it, chewing another bite of my lunch.
When his face finally relaxed—though he still didn’t look happy—I asked, “What are you hunting tonight?”
“Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.” he stared at me, a little frustrated and a little amused by my casual reference to his unusual life.
“Why are you going with Andromeda? Didn’t you say she was being annoying?”
He frowned. “She’s still the most… supportive.”
“And the rest of them?” I asked hesitantly, not sure I really wanted to know. “What are they?”
His brow puckered. “Incredulous, for the most part.”
I glanced toward them. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I’d seen them. Only now there were just the four of them; their perfect brother was mine, for this hour at least.
“They don’t like me,” I guessed.
“That’s not it,” he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. “They don’t understand why I can’t leave you alone.”
I frowned. “Me, either.”
He smiled. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known, Remus. You fascinate me.”
Part of me was sure he was making fun of me—the part that couldn’t escape the fact that I was the most boring person I knew.
“I can’t understand that,” I said.
“Having the advantages I do,” he murmured, touching one finger to his forehead, “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 hitting their default position—the back corner of the cafeteria where his family sat. His 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.” I felt his eyes on my face, but I couldn’t look at him yet. I was sure he would see the self-contempt in my eyes. “But there’s more,” he went on, “and it’s not so easy to put into words—”
I was still staring absently at the Blacks while he spoke. Suddenly Bellatrix turned her head to look directly at me. Not to look—to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but I was frozen by her overt antagonism until Sirius broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath—a kind of hiss.
Bellatrix turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Sirius, my eyes wide.
“That was definitely dislike,” I muttered.
His expression was pained. “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…” he looked down.
“If?”
“If this ends… badly.” he dropped his head into his hands, obviously in anguish. I wanted to comfort him somehow, to tell him that nothing bad would ever happen to him, but I didn’t know the right words. Automatically, I reached out to place my hand lightly against his elbow.
He was wearing just a long-sleeved t-shirt, and the cold soaked through to my hand immediately. He didn’t move, and as I sat there I slowly realized that what he’d said should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could feel was an ache for his pain.
He still had his face in his hands.
I tried to speak in a normal voice. “And you have to leave now?”
“Yes.” He let his hands drop. I kept my hand against his forearm. He looked at the place where we were connected, and he sighed. Suddenly his mood shifted and he grinned. “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 jumped, yanking my hand back. Andromeda was suddenly standing behind Sirius' shoulder.
Sirius greeted her without looking away from me. “Andromeda.”
“Sirius,” she answered, imitating his tone with a mocking twist. Her voice was a soft tenor, velvety like his.
“Andy, Remus—Remus, Andromeda,” he introduced us, a wry smile on his face.
“Hello, Remus” Her eyes glittered like black diamonds, but her smile was friendly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Just the lightest stress on the finally.
Sirius flashed a dark look at her.
It was not hard for me to believe that Andromeda was a vampire. Standing two feet away from me. With dark, hungry eyes. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck.
“Um, hey, Andromeda.”
“Are you ready?” she asked him.
His voice was cold. “Nearly. I’ll meet you at the car.”
She left without another word; the way she moved was so fluid, so sinuous, it made me think of dancers again, though it wasn’t really that human.
I swallowed. “Should I say ‘have fun,’ or is that the wrong sentiment?”
“‘Have fun’ works as well as anything.” He grinned.
“Have fun, then.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but of course he wasn’t fooled.
“I’ll try. And you try to be safe, please.”
I sighed. “Safe in Forks—what a challenge.”
His jaw tightened. “For you it is a challenge. Promise.”
“I promise to try to be safe,” I recited. “I was meaning to deal with the laundry… or is that too hazardous a task? I mean, I could fall in or something.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.” he stood, and I rose, too.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I sighed.
He smiled a wistful smile. “It seems like a long time to you, doesn’t it?”
I nodded glumly.
“I’ll be there in the morning,” he promised, and then he walked to my side, touched the back of my hand lightly, and turned to walk away. I stared after him until he was gone.
I really did not want to go to class, and I thought about a little healthy ditching, but I decided it would be irresponsible. I knew that if I disappeared now, McKayla and the others would assume I’d gone with Sirius. And Sirius was worried about the time we’d spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I wasn’t going to think about what that would mean, or how painful it might be. I just worked out the ways I could make things safer for him. Which meant going to class.
I felt certain—and I thought he did, too—that tomorrow would change everything for us. He and I… if we were going to be together, we had to face this square on. We couldn’t keep trying to balance on this precarious edge of almost-together. We would fall to one side or the other, and it all depended on him. I was all in, before I’d even consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing this through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more painful, than the idea of never seeing him again.
It didn’t help my concentration so much that he wasn’t next to me in Biology. The tension and electricity were gone, but my mind was too wrapped around the idea of tomorrow to pay attention.
In Gym, McKayla seemed to have forgiven me. She said she hoped I had a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained that I’d canceled the trip due to truck issues.
She was suddenly sulky again. “Are you and Sirius going to the dance?”
“No. I told you I wasn’t going.”
“What are you doing, then?”
I lied cheerfully. “Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I’m going to fail.”
He frowned. “Is Sirius helping you ‘study’?”
I could hear the quotation marks he put around the last word.
“Don’t I wish,” I said, smiling. “But he’s gone away somewhere with his sister for the weekend.” It was funny how much easier than usual the lies were coming. Maybe because I was lying for someone else, and not for myself.
McKayla perked up. “Oh. You know, you could still come to the dance with us all. That would be cool. We’d all dance with you,” she promised.
The mental image of Peter’s face made my tone sharper than necessary.
“I’m not going to the dance, McKayla, okay?”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I was just offering.”
When Gym was finally over, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I wasn’t looking forward to walking home in the rain, but I couldn’t think of how he would have been able to get my truck. Then again, was anything impossible for him?
And there it was—parked in the same spot where he’d parked the Volvo this morning. I shook my head, amazed, as I opened the door and found the key in the ignition as promised.
There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I opened it. Two words were written in his fancy calligraphy handwriting.
>Be safe.<
The sound of the truck roaring to life startled me, and I laughed at myself.
When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt 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.
Lyall was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying his lasagna—it was hard to tell with Lyall.
“You know, Dad…,” I began, breaking into his reverie.
“What’s that?”
“I think you’re right about Seattle. I think I’ll wait until Peter 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 hundred 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.”
He smiled. “You’re sure easy to live with, Remus.”
“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 Sirius' advice and told him where I would be. Almost.
As I worked on the mindless chore of folding laundry, I wondered if, with this lie, I was choosing Sirius over my own father—after all, I was protecting him and leaving my dad to face… exactly what, I wasn’t sure. Would I just vanish? Would the police find some… piece of me? I knew I wasn’t able to process exactly how devastating that would be for him, that losing a child—even one he hadn’t seen much for the last decade—was a bigger tragedy than I was able to understand.
But if I told him I would be with Sirius, if I implicated him in whatever followed, how did that help Lyall? Would it make the loss more bearable if he had someone to blame? Or would it just put him in more danger? I remembered how Bellatrix had glared at me today.
Did I really want my father to know something that would make them feel threatened?
So really, the only thing that could help Lyall at all would be if I taped a note to the door tomorrow that read I changed my mind, and then got in my truck and drove to Seattle after all. I knew Sirius wouldn’t be angry, that a part of him was hoping for exactly that.
But I also knew that I wasn’t going to write that note. I couldn’t even imagine doing it. When he came, I would be waiting.
So I guess I was choosing him over everything. And though I knew I should feel bad—wrong, guilty, sorry—I didn’t. Maybe because it didn’t feel like a choice at all.
But all of this was only if things went badly, and I was nearly ninety percent sure that they wouldn’t. Part of it was that I still couldn’t make myself be afraid of Sirius, even when I tried to picture him as the sharp-fanged Sirius from my nightmare. I had his note in my back pocket, and I pulled it out and read it again and again. He wanted me to be safe. He’d dedicated a lot of personal effort lately to ensuring my survival. Wasn’t that who he was? When all the safeties were off, wouldn’t that part of him win?
The laundry wasn’t the best job for keeping my mind busy. As much as I tried to focus on the Sirius I knew, the one I loved, I couldn’t help picturing what ending badly might look like. Might feel like. I’d seen enough horror flicks to have some preconceived notions, and it didn’t look like the very worst way to go. Most of the victims just seemed sort of limp and out of it while they were… drained. But then I remembered what Sirius had said about bears, and I guessed that the realities of vampire attacks were not much like the Hollywood version.
But it was Sirius.
I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I would never get to sleep with all this crazy in my head, 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 knew it was not the most responsible choice, 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 listened to Phil’s CD again. The familiar screaming was oddly comforting, and somewhere in the middle of it, I drifted off.
I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to the drug abuse. Though I was well rested, I was on edge and jittery—now and then, almost panicked. I showered and threw clothes on, dressing in layers out of habit, though Sirius had promised sun today. I checked out the window; Lyall was already gone and a thin layer of clouds, white and cottony, covered the sky in a temporary-looking way. I ate without tasting the food, rushing to clean up when I was done. I’d just finished brushing my teeth when a quiet knock had me vaulting my way down the stairs.
My hands were suddenly too big for the simple deadbolt, and it took me a second, but finally I threw the door open, and there he was.
I took a deep breath. All the nerves faded to nothing, and I was totally calm.
He wasn’t smiling at first—his face was serious, even wary. But then he looked me over and his expression lightened. He laughed.
“Good morning,” he chuckled.
“What’s wrong?” I glanced down to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.
“We match.” He laughed again.
He had on a light tan sweater with a scoop neck, a white t-shirt on underneath, and jeans. My sweater was the exact same shade, though that and my white tee both had crew necks. My jeans were the same color blue, too. Only, he looked like a runway model, and I knew that I did not.
I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.
“You agreed to this,” I reminded him.
He gave me a dark look as he climbed in.
I got in my side and tried not to cringe as I revved the engine very loudly to life.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Put your seat belt on—I’m nervous already.”
I rolled my eyes but did what he asked. “Where to?” I repeated.
“Take the one-oh-one north.”
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his eyes 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 the Volvo’s grandfather—have a little respect.”
We were soon out of the town limits, despite his pessimism. Thick underbrush and dense forest replaced the lawns and houses.
“Turn right on the one-ten,” he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.
“Now we drive until the pavement ends.”
I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving his right to look over and be sure.
“And what’s there, at the pavement’s end?” I wondered.
“A trail.”
“We’re hiking?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he 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 he wouldn’t hear the panic in my voice. How far had I hiked last Saturday—a mile? And how many times had I managed to trip in that distance? This was going to be humiliating.
We drove in silence for a while. I was imagining what his expression would look like the twentieth time I face-planted.
“What are you thinking?” he asked impatiently after a few minutes.
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.
"Lyall said it would be warm today.”
“And did you tell Lyall what you were up to?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“But you probably said something to Peter about me driving you to Seattle,” he said thoughtfully.
“No, I didn’t.”
“No one knows you’re with me?” Angrily, now.
“That depends.… I assume you told Andromeda?”
“That’s very helpful, Remus,” he snapped.
I pretended I didn’t hear that.
“Is it the weather? Seasonal affective disorder? Has Forks made you so depressed you’re actually suicidal?”
“You said it might cause problems for you… us being together publicly,” I explained.
“So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause me—if you don’t come home?” His voice was a mix of ice and acid.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
He muttered something under his breath, the words flowing so quickly that I couldn’t understand them.
It was silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of fury and disapproval rolling off him, and I couldn’t think of the right way to apologize when I wasn’t sorry.
The road ended at a small wooden marker. I could see the thin foot trail stretching away into the forest. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, not sure what to do because he was angry and I didn’t have driving as an excuse not to look at him anymore.
It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I’d arrived, almost muggy under the thin clouds. I yanked off my sweater and tossed it into the cab, glad I’d worn the t-shirt—especially with five miles of hiking ahead of me.
I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he’d removed her sweater, too, and twisted his hair into another messy bun. All he had on was a tank top.
“This way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, still annoyed. He started walking into the dark forest directly to the east of the truck.
“The trail?” I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice as I hurried around the front of the truck to catch up to him.
“I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it.”
“No trail? Really?”
“I won’t let you get lost.”
He turned then, with a mocking half-smile, and I couldn’t breathe.
I’d never seen so much of his skin. His pale arms, his slim but muscular shoulders, the twigs of his collarbones... He was too perfect, I realized with a crushing wave of despair.
There was no way this god could ever belong with me.
He stared at me, shocked by my tortured expression.
“Do you want to go home?” he asked quietly, a different pain than mine saturating his voice.
“No.”
I walked forward till I was close beside him, anxious not to waste one second of the obviously numbered hours I had with him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice still soft.
“I’m not a fast hiker,” I answered dully. “You’ll have to be very patient.”
“I can be patient—if I make a great effort.” he smiled, holding my gaze, trying to pull me out of my suddenly glum mood.
I tried to smile back, but I could feel that the smile was less than convincing. He searched my face.
“I’ll take you home,” he promised, but I couldn’t tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. Obviously, he thought it was fear of my impending demise that had upset me, and I was glad that I was the one person whose mind he 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 bitterly. His eyebrows pulled down as he tried to understand my tone and expression.
He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.
It wasn’t as hard as I’d been afraid it would be. The way was mostly flat, and he seemed content to go at my pace. Twice I tripped over roots, but each time his hand shot out and steadied my elbow before I could fall.
When he touched me, my heart thudded and stuttered like usual. I saw his expression the second time that happened, and I was suddenly sure he could hear it.
I tried to keep from looking at him; every time I did, his beauty filled me with the same sadness. Mostly we walked in silence. Occasionally, he would ask a random question that he hadn’t gotten to in the last two days of interrogation. He asked about birthdays, grade school teachers, childhood pets—and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I’d given up on the practice. He laughed at that, louder than usual, the bell like echoes bouncing back to me from the trees.
The hike took me most of the morning, but he never seemed impatient. The forest spread out around us in a labyrinth of identical trees, and I started to get nervous that we wouldn’t be able to find our way out again. He was perfectly at ease in the green maze, never showing any doubt about our direction.
After several hours, the green light that filtered down through the canopy brightened into yellow. The day had turned sunny, just as promised.
For the first time since we’d started, I felt excitement again.
“Are we there yet?” I asked.
He smiled at the change in my mood. “Nearly. Do you see the clearer light ahead?”
I stared into the thick forest. “Um, should I?”
“Maybe it is a bit soon for your eyes.”
“Time to visit the optometrist.” I sighed and he grinned.
And then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a brighter spot in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow-white instead of yellow-green. I picked up the pace, and he 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 most beautiful place I had ever seen.
The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers— violet, yellow, and white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the liquid rush of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly forward through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. After that first minute of awe, I turned, wanting to share this with him, but he wasn’t behind me where I thought he’d be. I spun around, searching for him, suddenly anxious. Finally I found him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes, and I remembered why we were here. The mystery of Sirius and the sun—which he’d promised to solve for me today.
I took a step back, my hand stretched out toward him. His eyes were wary, reluctant—oddly, it reminded me of stage fright. I smiled encouragingly and started walking back to him. He held up a warning hand and I stopped, rocking back onto my heels.
Sirius took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then stepped out into the bright glare of the midday sun.