Dark Secrets (31 page)

David shuffled over
and leaned his back against the rock while I swallowed every
agonising bite of the food he handed me, forcing it down with
orange juice because my mouth refused to make saliva. In fact, my
body refused to do anything normal—including breathe
properly.

“
Did you feel that?”
I looked up from under my lashes, pinching the edges of a sandwich.
“Before—when we were close?”

“
Feel
what?”

“
That…the
energy?”

He shook his head
once, pursing his lips. “Nope.”

“
You big, fat
liar!”

“
I’m not
lying.”

“
Yes—” I got to my
knees, “—you are.”

“
Look, even if I knew what you were talking about, that
does
not
mean I
felt it.” He sighed heavily and threw his sandwich into the basket,
then sat back against the rock, folding his arms.

“
Well, what was that?
What was I feeling?”

“
Love?”

I dropped the sandwich
to the rug. “David!”

“
I don’t know, Ara.
What am I, a scientist?”

“
You do know.” I
looked over at the picnic basket. “Did you drug those
grapes?”

David laughed. “Ara?
Why would I do—”

“
Then what was that?”
I cut in. “It didn’t feel natural, and I know you know something
about it. I saw how you looked at me.” I pointed at him; he shook
his head, smiling down at his folded arms. “You felt it, too. I
know you did. Now tell me what it was.”

“
I’m not going to
fight with you,” he said calmly.

“
I’m not
fighting.”

“
Then drop
it.”

“
No. Don’t you think if I felt a—a
gravitational pull
toward you, like
my soul just split in two and then was suddenly—” I scrunched an
imaginary piece of paper between my palms, “—forced back together,
that if you felt it, too, or if you know
why
I felt it, you should tell
me?”

“
Gravitational pull?”
His brow rose; he leaned forward a little, resting his forearm over
his knee.

“
Why do you do
that?”

“
What?”

“
Make me feel
silly—make me think I feel things you don’t.”

After rubbing his
forehead viciously, he swept a hand through his hair and sat back
against the rock again. “Can we drop this? Please?”

I looked down at the
ant-covered bread in front of me, blinking back tears.

“
Ara.” His voice
commanded I look at him; I shook my head. “Ara, please. Look at
me.”

“
Why?”

“
Please?”

Reluctantly, I rolled
my face upward.

His golden smile
warmed. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He reached out to me. “You
know how I feel about you.”

“
But I don’t know if
you felt what I just felt.” I nodded to the place on the rug where
we’d been sitting during the…moment. “If you didn’t feel it
too…what does that mean?”

“
What that was has
nothing to do with how I—” His fists clenched in obvious
frustration. “You are one of the most stubborn damn girls I’ve ever
met.” He looked right into me. “Do you know that?”

I bit my
lip.

“
And do you know what
else, Ara?” He appeared in front of me, tilting my chin
upward.

“
What?”

“
It’s also one of the
most charming things about you.” I caught the gleaming in David’s
eye, committing it to memory. “No more tears, okay?”

“
Okay.”

He tugged my hand
until I came to sit beside him against the rock, and I nestled the
crown of my head under his chin, placing my hand over the cotton
shirt that barely contained the coolness of his skin underneath. I
was sure he was getting colder.

“
Ara?”

“
Mm-hm.”

His strong arms
squeezed me closer for a second. “We’ll talk about things another
time, all right?”

I nodded.

As the day rolled on,
David asked me a lot about home—about my mum and Mike, and didn’t
back down until I answered every question. But I found that,
somehow, when I spoke to him about home, the good memories, I could
do it without wanting to cry. It was like he formed an invisible,
remedial barrier around me. I could just
be
with him, and that was nice. I
rested my head in his lap, letting the tickle of sweat roll down my
spine under the hot summer sun and soak into my green cotton dress,
while David gently stroked my hair, pointing out odd
clouds.

“
I don’t know.” He
squinted, shadowing his brow. “I think it looks more like a
bee.”

“
No way,” I scoffed,
outlining the cloud with my fingertip. “See? Long tail, giant
wings. It’s a dragon.”

“
Okay, you’re right.
It’s a bee.” David chuckled.

I slapped his arm
playfully.

“
Ouch.” He rubbed his
chest.

“
What are you doing?”
I laughed. “I hit you in the arm.”

“
Yeah, but it hurt
here.”

Aw, so sweet.
“Then, where would it hurt if I damaged your
heart?” I asked in a light, joking tone.

His eyes darkened, the
smile fading. “The soul.”

“
Um—” I cleared my
throat, looking away from his eyes. “So, what’s out on that island?
Anything interesting?”

“
I could show you, if
you like.”

“
Okay. But won’t we
get wet?”

David looked down at
the tops of my thighs, just covered by the rim of my green dress,
and smiled. “
You
won’t.”

“
Well, maybe we’ll
leave it for today. There’s always tomorrow, right?” I rolled onto
my knees and sat with my face right in front of David’s, the tips
of our noses just off touching. We both took a long, shaky breath,
and the sweet scent of honey came back on my lips, making my mouth
water. His hand slowly came up, taking hold of me, steering my face
toward his. But he stopped—held me there, my lips tingling just in
front of his, and softly ran his thumb over them.

“
David?”

He closed his eyes
tightly. “Please don’t.”

“
Don’t
what?”

He didn’t answer—just
sat there, taking shallow breaths. I focused on his mouth, moving
slowly forward, closing my eyes, holding my breath.

“
It’s getting late,”
he said, and a cold rush separated us.

My eyes opened to the
ugly black face of the rock he’d been leaning against. I turned
around to watch him walking off, running a hand through his hair.
“David?”

“
You know, you’re
right.” He stopped about ten paces away. “We can go out to the
island another day. I think I remember something about a History
assignment being due,” his voice rose in question.

The
breath I’d been holding made a huge lump in my
throat. “It can wait.”

“
No—” He shook his
head, coming over to pack the picnic basket. “It can’t.”

I flopped onto my back
with a huff. In the corner of my mind, my silly fantasy
continued—David and I, all hands and lips, floating along the rest
of the day in each other’s arms. But reality shut the door on that
world; opening another to the mountain of pending homework I faced
instead.

With a sigh, I stood
up and folded the picnic rug. “Here, you wanna stash this back in
your rock crevice?”

He stepped away,
shaking his head. “This is your secret place now too, Ara.
I’ll
show
you
where to hide it.”

I hugged the blanket
and smiled. “You mean
our
secret place.”

Chapter
Eleven

Everything had been
set out properly; my pencils neatly lined up beside a notepad, my
laptop centred, and even a glass of water for hydration. But after
surfing the Net for two hours, the only thing I’d accomplished was
a mental list of reasons David wouldn’t kiss me.

Outside, the hills to
the east grew dark, and the summer sun settled red on a cloudless
sky, turning the tops of the maple trees golden pink. It wasn’t
until my eyes burned, looking back at the white glow of my computer
screen that I realised my attention had been on the distant horizon
longer than I thought. It was almost too dark in my room to see
now.

I tapped my pencil on
the desk, trying to focus, but every time I tried to commit to an
idea, the burn of kiss-rejection stole my concentration, forcing me
to worry about why David jumped away from me so quick. All I wanted
was to do normal things with him like, you know, holding hands,
going to a movie or snuggling up on the couch—kissing when my
parents weren’t in the room. But we were in the middle of nowhere
today, and he still wouldn’t kiss me.

I groaned at myself,
and despite the sticky heat sneaking in through my window, gluing
itself to my brow and neck, I lifted the feather quilt on my bed
and slid my feet under it, rolling onto my side as I drew it up
over my shoulders. Maybe if I could fall asleep until Vicki called
me for dinner, I wouldn’t have to think about David.

I flicked the lamp out
and snuggled down, breathing the fruity scent of my sheets. That
was the hardest thing about moving; how different things
smelled—like the towels and my shirts as I pulled them over my
head. Vicki’s clean laundry had a vibrant, peachy smell, whereas my
mum’s was a milky, powdery scent—a bit like Mike, since our mums
always bought the same laundry detergent. But peach was kind of
comforting to me now; it meant I was in bed, away from the world,
away from my troubles. I lay perfectly still, listening for the
crickets’ closing act, but the air was so thick and dense with heat
even the bugs had taken the back road to anywhere but
here.

The sun completely
disappeared then, leaving the heat behind, and when the soft breeze
picked up outside, I closed my eyes and imagined it was the sound
of the ocean. When I opened them again, Mike smiled down at me from
the photo I’d tacked on my bedside wall. I yanked it downward and
touched my fingers to his bright, cheeky smile. In so many ways,
every guy I met, every smile that made my heart flutter, had been
measured up to Mike’s; it was always the first thing I noticed
about a guy, always the deal breaker. The only place I got to see
Mike’s smile now, though, was in my dreams or in a picture taken
long ago.

I kissed the photo and
pressed my thumb to it against the wall. “G’night,
Mike.”

I didn’t even have a
photo of David to sit and fantasise over. All I had were a few
faded images in my mind. But it was better than nothing, and more
than enough to cast him in my fantasies each night. I closed my
eyes and wandered away to my happy place, seeing David by the lake,
strumming my guitar. He smiled back at me, then looked away
again.

“
The words have
changed.” I sat on the ground beside him, my legs
crossed.

“
No, they
haven’t.”

“
They have. That song
was about love before.”

“
And what is it about
now?” he asked.

“
I think…” I frowned,
listening to him sing the words. “Death?”

His lips tugged on the
corners, showing his dimples. “That’s what it was always
about.”

“
Why didn’t you tell
me?”

“
I did. You just
couldn’t hear it,” he said and leaned closer, plucking the same
string over and over again, the horrid repetition of a single note
making my ears ring. “Listen now.”

“
But that’s not a
song.”

“
Then you’re not
listening.” He played louder; I covered my ears.

“
David. I don’t get
it. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“
Death, Ara. It’s
about death.” He appeared in front of my face, his nose touching
mine. “Can you handle death?”

“
Whose
death?”

“
Theirs.”

“
I still don’t
understand.”

“
Answer me.” He
grabbed my arms, the high note he was playing before ringing as the
shadows closed in around us, making the ledge of his brow dark,
menacing. “Answer me!”

“
No!” I sat bolt
upright, still feeling his hands on my arms, while the screeching
of that single note, which suddenly gained a tone, became the ring
of the phone. I jumped out of bed and grabbed it.
“Hello?”

“
Hey, kid, did I wake
you?”

“
Mike? Um—I uh, no, I
was just daydreaming. What’re you doing up?” I looked at my clock.
“Isn’t it, like, before six in the morning over there?”

“
Yeah, I was in bed,
but I was just layin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout ya.” I could hear the
grin behind his tone.

“
Me? Why?” I sat at
my desk.