Willow’s snores fill up the silence of the room. We said goodnight about an hour ago but my mind isn’t on the same page of my body. Our sleepover may have ended but my night feels far from over. I’m lying awake replaying memories that fade in and out of my head in an endless cycle of laughs and tears. Charlie seems to be the main character of them all.
The stench of sweat tucked under a thin layer of cologne collides with my nostrils like hitting a brick wall. The music has a steady pulse to it that makes the room appear to be a living creature of its own - like a whale breached the overgrown lawn and swallowed up the entire baseball team and its groupies. Wispy clouds of white smoke rise and evaporate from mouths that pucker like mini volcanoes. I don't have any time to stand in the doorway because there is a sea of limbs moving in and out like the currents, jabbing their elbows into my ribs and stepping on my toes.
I get knocked around for a whole song, not quite walking but stumbling through the tiny slivers of space in the living room. Still, the light feeling doesn't leave my head and the bolts of electricity don't stop running up and down my skin.
Something big is going to happen tonight.
I know it. I've known it since I got out of the shower, the ends of my hair dripping onto the bathroom tiles and fog concealing my reflection in the mirror. I've known it since I sat down in the back row of the bleachers and had to squint to see the pitcher throw the ball.
Something is going to change.
No one has talked to me all day. Not a peep from my parents who didn't bother to look up from their breakfast this morning or from the student volunteer who took my ticket at the front of the baseball field. That's why when a girl with a neon tank top and an overflowing cup of beer tells me she's never seen me before, I nearly burst into a ray of sunlight.
"Oh, I'm new. I started school here last week."
She tilts her head to the side, squinting like I'm waving at her from across the street. "Right. Have you seen my boyfriend?"
I blink at her. She's still squinting and I start to think she might have forgotten her glasses or something. "I'm new . . . so I don't know who your boyfriend is. My name's Dovie."
I stick out my hand but she's peering over my shoulder with her neck outstretched like a giraffe.
"Dovie - yeah. See you around."
She shuffles away, leaving a trail of beer behind her. I have nothing to do with my hands so I figure I'll grab myself something to drink but once I get to the table I realize there's nothing but beer and empty Coke cans. I take a cup and fill it up with no intention of drinking its contents. When I hold it up to my nose it has a copper coin smell and I picture someone pouring their pee in the keg as a prank.
The corners of the room are the safest to navigate. The only people here are the ones making out so they tend not to shove. I linger here, the shadows cast by the Christmas string lights dancing up and down my arms as people cross them.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on its end. The electricity that has been coursing through me since the beginning of the night grows stronger - I can picture lightning scraping across my veins to get out. I realize someone is watching me from across the room, mirroring my stance against the wall with shadows concealing the sharp features of his face.
A group of girls come in from the kitchen, snapping photos with the flash on. The light is almost blinding, giving the appearance of lightning touching down in the midst of a storm. It illuminates the mystery person, giving me a good look at him. I recognize him from the baseball game. He's number 7.
My favorite number is 7.
He's out of his uniform, wearing a black long sleeve shirt under his sherpa coat. His skin is a cool almond and his hair is close cropped at the sides but long at the top.
I blush under his gaze but I don't let that stop me from marching over to him.
"I'm surprised your team won with all those foul balls you were hitting." It's the first thought that comes to mind and it's out of my mouth just as I think it. I say it with a smile which hopefully clues him in on my friendly intentions. I came to this party to make friends.
He frowns.
"I'm surprised you saw anything with how far back you were sitting. You almost crossed the Canadian border." His expression barely shifts as he says this. It's like his face is made out of stone - and perfectly sculpted, might I add.
The turn out for the season's first baseball game was colossal. I remember feeling like a grain of salt in a jar of pepper. The baseball players were on display for the audience to watch but there was no reason for Charlie to pick me out of the crowd with my faded lemongrass sundress and scuffed sneakers.
"So were you watching me or did you take a seating chart?"
He shrugs. "You're new. More noticeable."
"My name is Dovie." I refrain from sticking out my hand. The action feels silly up against him and his composure.
"I’m Charlie."
He stares at me for a moment, a hint of a smile buried somewhere in his solid expression. Whatever I am going to say to desperately cling onto our conversation evaporates and I think I must look like a fish out of water, opening and closing my mouth willing something to come out.
"Well Dove, you're clearly not hitting any homeruns in the social scene here so why don't we ditch this place?" I’m not sure if he misheard me or has given me a nickname. Either way, I like it. No one has called me that before.
"And go where?" I add an ounce of hesitation in my voice though I'm certain I'm willing to go anywhere. If something is going to change like this nagging feeling keeps telling me, then I have to be willing to go where the night takes me. Besides, someone is actually talking to me.
"My aunt owns a diner." He tucks his thumbs into his front pocket and nods his head in the vague direction of town. "She'll let us have fries for free."
I drop the hesitation act. "Say no more."
He smiles then. It's subtle, his heart shaped lips curving at the edges with the dimple on his left cheek showing. I think it has to be the best smile I've ever seen because it feels like sharing a secret.
He leads me out of the party and this time I don't get swept up by the crowd. Charlie paves a way for us, not condensing himself so he can fit but broadening his shoulders to purposely bump into others. It forces the people aside and all I have to do is walk behind him. I imagine it's a lot like how celebrities feel when they have personal bodyguards.
Outside the air is crisp. I am forever taken aback by how blue the night sky is in Maine and how the stars are so visible. I'm tempted to reach out my hands to touch them. The sky was never this clear in Manhattan. In a sense, I feel less lonely out here in rural Maine. Manhattan might have had people piled upon each other, the island filled to the brim with life but all of those people were racing through the streets like they could see their life slipping away before them. Out here, the stars remain still. No matter what they promise to come out and see me again and the only time they race across the sky is when they fall.
I expect him to climb into one of the cars lined up in the driveway because it seems like everyone here has a car but me. Instead, he keeps walking until we get to a moped with peeling bumper stickers stuck onto its side. One of them reads "I hate Mondays" with a picture of a frowning cat.
It wasn't what I expected from him.
As if he is reading my mind he says, "It's my aunt's delivery moped."
I tap the cat sticker with my fingernail. "He kind of looks like you."
He rolls his eyes - something I'm immediately positive he does often. "I'm sure anyone would look grumpy next to you, Miss Permasmile."
"I don't always smile."
"You're smiling now." He climbs onto the moped and places the helmet over his head. "And you were smiling all by yourself at the game and the party. It was kind of scary."
My cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling.
"You must like it considering you're here talking to me."
I climb on behind him just as he replies. "Whatever, Harley Quinn."
The road rushes by underneath us and the air slaps against my skin. My stomach does cartwheels all the way up to my throat when I think that the only thing keeping me on the moped are my arms around his waist. The ride is only a few minutes into town and when he pulls into the lot he stops just short of hitting the parking sign.
The diner is empty and the sign outside reads "We're Closed." Charlie pushes the door open anyways and motions to the counter. I take a seat as he steps behind it and takes the glass top off of the pie holder.
"Pecan, peach or cherry?"
I rest my head on the palm of my hand. "Which one is best?"
He bites his lip, his eyes surveying me. I try not to squirm in my seat. "You look like a peach kind of girl."
I wrinkle my nose. "What does that mean?"
He smiles again, this time ducking his head to hide it. When his aunt comes from the back she greets me with a warm grin that's nowhere as concealed as her nephews. She insists on making us grilled cheese sandwiches to go with our fries and the diner stays open an extra hour for us. She keeps to the back mostly, claiming she has to clean the grill, but I have the sneaking suspicion she is giving us space.
"Your parents aren't the kind to move around a lot, right? You'll be sticking around for a while?" He dips his fry in barbeque sauce and takes a bite. Earlier he had been dipping his grilled cheese into it as well.
"Why? Scared you'll never see me again?" I'm pretty sure I'm back to smiling big again because his eyes are on my lips. Or maybe he feels like the stars from the night sky have come down to dance around us like I do when I look at him.
"Nah, I was hoping to get rid of you." He steals a fry off my plate and I throw another at him. "I want to get rid of you so badly I think I'll give you a ride home tonight."
"And drop me off at school on Monday?"
"I guess you'd need to graduate if I really want you gone."
I don’t like to admit it to myself but when I went to bed that night, I thought I had just gone on a date. I kept that belief until weeks had passed and nothing escalated. Charlie never made a move to kiss me or to ask me out. I told him that Fred from Biology asked me to the school dance and he told me to have fun. It was a lie I made up to test him. He ended up going with Julie Hapshaw, a girl on the cheerleading team with me. It was my fault for misinterpreting. I had projected something onto the night that was never there.
Rolling over into a sitting position, I huff. Lying here thinking myself into a tizzy is only driving me further from sleep. I tiptoe out of the room and let the door slowly shut behind me. The hallways of the castle are lengthy and narrow with their windows wide and expansive. They are covered in dirt and dust but the scenery outside is stunning enough for me to believe it’s an abandoned movie screen.
Rain runs down the windows, tree branches scraping up against them. Outside, they bend at an alarming angle with clumps of leaves being flung across the sky. Lightning flashes, temporarily illuminating the hallway like the flash of a camera.
A sudden burst of thunder causes me to jump as I round the hallways corner. There’s a figure huddled up against the window.
“Can’t sleep?”
Aaron turns his head to look at me. He’s got a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his eyes are swollen with fatigue.
He shakes his head. “Jimmy is crying and I don't know how to calm him. The other boys are complaining."
Jimmy is the boy I had seen skin his knee when I first arrived. He's by far the youngest boy on the island but after he handled the injury like a champ, I took Luka's advice and treated him like he was as capable as the rest of us. Clearly my initial position was more valid than Luka gave me credit for.
"Is he afraid of the storm?"
Aaron runs a hand over his face. "I don't know. He won't talk."
I pull him off the window. "Let me try."
Jimmy shares a room with Jaden and Aiden who are close to his age. While he sits up in bed, openly sobbing into his blanket, the other two boys have their heads underneath theirs to block out the noise. He turns from me when I sit beside him, giving me the back of his blond head.
I can't imagine the researchers on the ship were nurturing whenever he cried there. If they were one of the good ones, they flat out ignored it. If they were bad . . . I don't even want to think about that.
His shoulders are bouncing up and down violently between sobs. Even in the dark I can see his sleeves are wet with tears. He coughs, choking on his own mucus and in that instant he's so pitiful that I pull him against me into a hug.
He doesn't pull away or squirm.
"I wanna go home," he cries, burying his head in my stomach. "I miss home."
"Oh, Jimmy." I rub his back, glancing up at Aaron who shakes his head. He doesn't have to say anything because I already know. Jimmy hasn't had a home since he can remember. The ship and this island are all he's ever known and thus he is crying for something he has never had. He's missing something he has never had.
"I want mommy and daddy."
My eyes sting.
I hold him tighter. The other boys have poked their heads out from underneath the covers and are peering at us with droopy eyebrows. Aiden's lip is quivering but he doesn't make a sound. None of these boys know what having parents are like and yet they know they are missing. It saddens me to think that even if we could get them back to them, they wouldn't be wanted. That's why we're here in the first place. None of us are wanted.
"We love you, Jimmy. We're not Mom and Dad but we love you just as much," I say into his hair, fighting the tightness clawing up my throat. "I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep. Okay?"
He sniffles, his sobs quieting down. Aiden's thin figure tiptoes over and crawls up onto the bed to lay down with us. I reach out and stroke his head.
"You guys are loved." I don't fail to see the third boy staring at us from his own bed. "All of you."
And I decide I do love them. I don't know them like a mother should - I don't know their favorite cereals or their birthdays or how to tell when they're up to trouble - but I know they each have a gaping hole in their hearts that is the same as mine. I know that they need someone to choose them, not because they are special but because they are theirs.
I stay with the boys until their breathing evens out and their snores fill the air. Aaron and I creep out of the room and close the door behind us. After what's happened, I don't feel like sleeping anymore and so I hoist myself up on the window sill and rest my head against the glass to watch the storm.
Aaron stares at me for a moment and then sets himself up across from me. I'm grateful that he doesn't bring up the boys because the pain in my chest has yet to subside. Maybe he feels that pain too.
“This is the perfect weather for the Lighting Game.” He looks proud of himself as he explains it. “We count the time between a flash of lighting and the sound of thunder. Then, when the thunder sounds, we both have to blurt out something we’ve never told anyone before.”
This has to be the fiftieth game I’ve seen Aaron propose and I’ve only been on the island for two days. There’s no shame in it either considering he's also mature enough to conduct rescue missions and keep this place in order. Being mature and playful are not words I hear people use in tandem. Some may even argue they contradict each other but I think they are complimentary. Having both probably makes a person better.
“There goes our lighting,” I say as the light casts our shadows against the wall.
“Start counting.”
We count to three when the thunder cuts us off. Our voices overlap.
“My favorite instrument is the cowbell!”
“I can’t whistle!”
He laughs, hiding his smile with the corners of his blanket. “Try whistling right now. I don’t believe you.”
I press my lips together and blow but no sound comes out. “It’s a common problem! But I’ll give you credit, the cow bell is pretty sick.”
Lighting strikes again and we resume counting. We make it to five this time.
“I once used Zeke’s toothbrush by accident!”
“I’ve been slowly stealing my mother’s clothing for years!”
The next round of thunder is so loud I don’t hear his confession and it's best he doesn’t hear mine.
“I had a crush on my best friend.”
It’s something I’ve never even told myself. Maybe it’s being separated from him that has made me face it but I didn't initially see Charlie as a friend. It was something that naturally happened after we met and though I have enjoyed every second of it, I would be lying if I said that was what I wanted from the start.
As the words leave my mouth, I know this is part of me letting that go. If Charlie hasn’t made it transparent that he likes me back after all this time, then it means he doesn’t view me in the same light.
Being his friend is more than enough.
We count again and get up to our highest count so far, thirty seconds.
We're sitting so close that I can make out the details of Aaron's face. The green of his irises are darker than the green of the forest behind him and the brown and red of his hair compliment the earthy tone of the soil. His eyes are swimming in mine, a gentle smile tugging on his lips and squishing his freckles together. I almost reach out and trace them under my finger to connect them like a constellation.
When lightning strikes again, I don't have a confession ready. Aaron does. He delivers it boldly.
“I think you're delightful.”
My breath catches in my throat. I try to think of something to say but it's like my brain is full of clouds.
The moment passes.
We go on counting.
When I wake up in the morning, I'm alone on the window sill. Aaron is gone but his blanket is draped over me keeping me warm.
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