Exile (26 page)

Maybe it’s all okay.

We can be the moments in basement clubs playing beautifully.

We can be autumn ceilings.

We can just be.

Or maybe these are just the thoughts that three a.m. in a windowless stalker van inspire.

It’s the cool blue of pre-dawn when we pull back into Caleb’s driveway. Jon and Matt head home. So does Randy. I can’t go home yet. Not when I’m supposed to be sleeping off an opera.

Caleb and I stand by the garage. I just want to grab him and lean against him, but we stand like neighboring trees instead.

“You should probably get to bed,” I say to him. My body is whirring from the complete lack of sleep, making edges fuzzy, so completely shot, and it makes me feel forward, like Caleb could say anything at that moment, after all these strained hours, and I would fall into him, or vice versa. It seems like such a dumb time to be flooded by desire, maybe all the valves are just too tired of being wound too tight. I look up and he’s looking at me . . .

He says, “I’ve had something on my mind to show you. Now’s as good a time as any.” He reaches out and takes my hand.

“You should still be mad at me,” I say.

“Summer.”

“Caleb.”

I step toward him, probably to smash my face against his, but he’s starting down the driveway. “Take a drive?”

Right. I shake off the woozy desire. “Sure.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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MoonflowerAM
@catherinefornevr 9m
The best way to get up early is to not go to sleep. #neversleep

We drive for fifteen minutes, through still-asleep streets, getting stopped at lights with no one else around.

“Man I hate the traffic in this town,” says Caleb.

I answer in a craggy old lady’s voice, “Things aren’t the way they used to be.”

The sun, who we said good night to so recently, returns, blasting through the windshield as we weave through the silent mallscape, and then up into hills of sleeping houses. Finally, we arrive at a fenced-off lot. There’s a stone sign for
TERRACE MUNICIPAL PARK
, but behind that, high chain-link fence holds a sign reading
NOTICE OF PROPOSED LAND USE ACTION
, and beside that,
COMING SOON: ETERNAL HOPE
!
SEVEN NEW LUXURY OUTLET STORES
! This little park, which
I remember had a splash park and a great spiral slide, is the next victim in the zombie retail apocalypse.

Beyond it I can see a geometric footprint of concrete, stuck through with metal support beams.

“Come on.” Caleb grabs the links and starts over the fence. I follow, dropping down to the dirt on the other side. He leads me between the unfinished foundations. There are four,around a central hexagon, a patch of dried-out grass and shrubs, leftover park that hasn’t yet been landscaped.

In the center is a pedestal.

Caleb stops beside it. “Say hello to Pluto.”

The pedestal is the same size as the others I’ve seen, but the model of Pluto itself is no bigger than a marble. It’s coated in a film of dust. I brush it off with my thumb. “Hello, little planet,” I say.

“Dwarf planet, technically,” says Caleb.

“I really like when you get astronomical with me,” I say. This makes him smile. “Are they going to keep it here?”

“I don’t know,” says Caleb, looking around. “It’s no longer a planet. And besides, it’s taking up valuable smoothie space.”

“But it’s lovely.”

I reach for Caleb’s hand and instead he puts his arm around me. “I wanted to wait until we had like, a big date, or homecoming or something, to bring you here.”

I glance back at the fence. “That would have been tough in a dress.”

“Oh. Didn’t think of that.”

He hugs me, and I push my cheek against his neck.

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For believing in me. For trying. Even with the Jason thing. You believed so much in our stuff, in my songs.”

“Don’t say ‘believed.’ We’re just getting started.” But then a flash of nerves shoots through. Did he bring me here for some other reason? “Unless . . .”

He looks at me and is surprised by my worry. “Oh, no! Yeah, I mean, believING. Sorry.”

“Okay, good.”

He buries his face in my hair. “Thanks for everything with the tapes, too.”

“I’m so sorry you had to give them up. I’m sorry we didn’t find the songs.”

“It’s okay. Or, it sucks. I don’t know. We were going to get in huge trouble if we tried to play them live. And anyway, the second tape was just as much of a ghost as my dad.” He laughs darkly. “He couldn’t even come through on that.”

I rub his arms. “You came through last night. You played ‘On My Sleeve.’ You nailed the show when things were at their worst. You came through for Matt and Jon. And for me, not that I deserved it.”

“Stop. But thanks.” Caleb sighs. “Maybe it’s better there’s no big lost song. Just us. We can just do our own thing, our own way. Just be what we are.”

I love hearing how his thoughts and mine from last night are on the same wavelength, so much so that I have to resist smothering him with kisses. “Like Pluto,” I say instead.

A smile cracks through. “Yeah, we can be the Pluto of bands. Out here, doing our thing, not giving a damn what people think, or if anyone notices us at all.”

“People
are
going to notice,” I say. “But yeah, our thing. That’s all we can do, right?”

A minute passes. The bird sounds increase, as does the hum of cars in the distance.

“So,” says Caleb, “now what?”

“Oh man, that’s what my dad asked me,” I say, yawning.

“The boat for Palau probably casts off soon,” says Caleb.

I fall into his shoulder. “Days of sleep in a cargo hold. We’d need immunizations. Passports. SPF 6000.”

“Not if we’re stowaways. And we could sleep under palm trees all day.”

I point to the little planet. A sunbeam is just painting its top. “Maybe after we watch sunrise on Pluto.”

We kiss sleepily, and then watch the golden light crawl across the surface.

I doze off on the drive back to Caleb’s. When the bump of the driveway stirs me, I feel like I’m made of lead, and so, so brain dead.

“Can we have pancakes?” I mumble.

Caleb stops the car, but instead of replying, he says, “What the hell?”

I look out the window, and have to squint hard against the reflection of morning sun blasting off the back bumper of Randy’s van.

And the bumper of another car beside it.

A little blue hatchback, all beat up.

My eyes adjust to the glare and I see just about the last person I’d expect leaning against the back bumper, right beside the New Jersey license plate.

And of course, Val is scowling.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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MoonflowerAM
@catherinefornevr 1m
Mind = SPLAT!

“Hey,” says Caleb as we get out of the car.

“Hey,” says Val.

Our eyes meet for the usual second, in passing only. She looks like she hasn’t slept either. What does it mean that she’s here?

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back?”

Val looks around warily. “Can I explain inside?”

“Okay.”

We go quietly down to the basement. Sit on the couch. I end up on one side of Caleb, Val on the other again. She looks really down, but maybe it’s just the exhaustion.

“Look,” she starts, “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

I refrain from comment.

“Okay,” says Caleb.

“I . . .” and suddenly her eyes start to tear up. She looks at the ceiling. “Things have kinda sucked, you know?” She looks past Caleb to me. “Caleb knows a lot of it. I guess in a way you know more. About how I ran away, how my name is really Cassie. But, you don’t know what it’s like having a family that fucked up. That’s so . . . MIA, except it’s even worse when they’re around.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say.

“I know you think it’s more than coincidence that I’m here, now, that maybe because of my mom, I’ve got some . . . agenda or something.”

“I think you should just tell us,” says Caleb. I’m relieved that he says
us
even though I know it’s selfish.

Val holds out a clenched fist and uncurls her fingers.

In her palm is a tape.

It’s identical to the other one. I look at her but her eyes are fixed on Caleb. And tears are just pouring out.

“I went and got it when I split last night. Fake ID. I even saw Kellen from Allegiance to North come into the Vault. But he wouldn’t know me like he knows you.”

“The tape was there,” says Caleb. He’s looking from it, then back at Val, back to the tape. And I think he’s not grasping what suddenly I feel like I know, what is kind of making my brain melt . . .

“I knew you were having a hard time,” said Val, “and I
didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I thought if I just got in with the band, then I could tell you over time, so that when I did, you’d already kinda know.” She sniffs hard.

“Know what?” Caleb asks, his voice caught in his throat.

Val continues like she hasn’t heard him. Maybe she rehearsed this in the long dark and needs to say it in order. “And when I saw things getting crazy last night, partly I was mad about the gig and stuff, but partly, with that Jason guy on our tail, I had to make sure . . . make . . .” She chokes up. Presses her mouth against her fist.

“Go ahead,” I say.

Val looks at the tape, wiping at her eyes. “Make sure we could hear from our dad again.”

Caleb gazes at her. “Our dad . . .”

And suddenly everything is different.

Val tries to speak again but she can’t. Her rail-thin frame quakes. She rubs at her eyes almost angrily. I get up and kneel in front of her, and for a few seconds she lets me hug her. Then she pulls away, wiping at her nose.

“You never could have known,” she says, crying. “He never knew. Eli. He didn’t know about me, ever.”

“You’re . . . ,” Caleb stammers. “My sister.”

“Half sister,” she says, and her eyes track up to Caleb, wide, clear, guard completely down.

“Really?” he says.

I punch him in the shoulder and hiss, “Yes, really.”

“Oh my God, okay.” He reaches over and rubs her shoulder stiffly.

Ugh, boys sometimes. I clear my throat and when he looks at me I motion with my eyes. He gets it, and wraps her in a hug. She sinks into him, while I burn the last silly shred of jealousy.

He pulls back after a minute, and Val smiles at him. “Weird huh?”

“Weird,” he agrees.

“Eli and my mom started hooking up on that last big tour,” she continues. “She was actually engaged to Kellen at the time, but she was also engaged to heroin, and she and Eli used to get high together. It’s all so completely gross to talk about.”

“You don’t have to,” I say.

“I want to, though,” says Val. She takes a deep breath and continues. “Kellen found out, and that was part of what destroyed that tour. Eli and my mom shacked up in New York for a few months, just using together, and sometime along in there, I happened. Didn’t turn out too bad, considering the drugs. They broke up, no surprise, and Eli moved back to LA and Mom moved back to Princeton. Mom, and her addiction, are convinced that Eli was the love of her life. After a few months apart, she was going to go see him and try to make up, tell him about me, but the doctors wouldn’t clear her to fly. And then he died. She blamed herself, felt like she should have taken better care of him. Like she ever
could have. And so, especially when the supply would run dry, that would give her an excuse to blame me for just about everything.”

I’m crying, too, now. And feeling like an idiot. Not that I could have known. But still.

“When did she tell you all of this?” Caleb asks.

“She told me years ago. She doesn’t have a very good filter, especially when she’s using, which she manages to keep out of sight . . .” Val’s voice lowers. “Most of the time. She also told me never to tell anyone. But she told me all about Eli, her great lost love. She even told me about his other kid.”

“You knew about me. Why didn’t you get in touch sooner?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time. And I knew you didn’t know about him. I could just tell. But then I saw your freak-out, those tweets . . . I felt sure you’d found out. So I came. The timing was good. Mom had tracked me down in Ithaca anyway, and I needed somewhere else to go.”

Val pauses, wiping her nose. Caleb just looks blown away.

“I know it’s a lot,” says Val. “I know . . .”

Caleb shakes his head, like he’s returning from far away. “It’s okay.” He hugs her again.

When she sits back, I ask, “How did you know about the tape location?”

“One of my mom’s stories, the ones she loves to repeat whenever she’s in a stupor, is the time she went record shopping in the Village with Eli and he found a copy of a particular album that he’d always wanted, only they were out of cash at the time. So Mom went back, and . . . God knows what she did to get that record, but she brought it home and surprised him. I guess he was really excited. But it must have been some fight when they broke up, because Eli stormed out and never came back for any of his stuff, even his records. So, his collection ended up at our place, including the copy of that dead-baby Beatles record. I’ve been looking at that cover all my life. Freakin’ disturbing. But, anyway, I got the reference right away.”

“Val, geez . . .” Caleb searches for what to say.

“Don’t worry, bro,” she says, cleaning off her face with the dirty sleeve of her sweatshirt, then surveying the stains of tears, snot, and eyeliner. “Okay,” she says. “This is getting gross. Want to watch this tape?”

We put it in the camcorder, still set up but hidden behind the TV, and after a moment of blue screen, Eli appears again. It’s a weirdly similar scene, this time a blue bathroom instead of green, a red T-shirt instead of black. His movements are twitchy and he’s got a cigarette between his lips.