In Honor (20 page)

We were high. Nauseatingly high. Way higher than it’d looked from the other side of the creek. High enough to make me wish I’d never opened my mouth about it, because I was not about to throw myself off this rock to prove anything to anybody. Even if he was all dripping wet and tan and strong.

Rusty grabbed a stick, then walked over to the edge of the rock and hooked the rope with it. Once he had the rope, he looked up and gave it a few good, firm tugs before turning to me with a smile the size of Texas. Like he knew I was having a heart attack about this. “It’s good to go.”

I swallowed and straightened up my shoulders. “Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yep. This thing’s been here forever.”

Great
. “Okay,” I answered, my voice a notch or two higher than normal. I tried not to be too obvious about the deep breath I attempted to take. “Okay,” I said again—more for myself than anything else. I walked over to the rope and gave it a tug, then peered down into the center of the water, which now looked even farther away.
Breathe.

“You want me to go first?” Rusty asked.

“No, no. I can do it. Just . . . working up my courage.” I did my best at a smile.

Rusty stepped up next to me and grabbed the rope. “Just get your hands up here and get a good grip, then take a running start when you jump. It’s gonna swoop you down at first and then arc you up over the middle of the creek. When you feel yourself go up like that, let go.”

“Okay,” I said for the fiftieth time.
Breathe.
It was time to just go and do it, just take those couple of steps off the edge and do it. I tightened up my grip on the rope and backed up. Rusty stepped aside, arms crossed over his chest, and nodded encouragement at me like a coach or something. I took one more breath. I wanted to be fearless, I did. Finn had been. And Rusty, he was always the kind of reckless you either admired or shook your head at. I, on the other hand, didn’t want to die jumping off this rock today, even if it meant losing a little dignity.

“Nope,” I said, letting the rope drop. “I can’t do it.” I backed up, disappointed in myself, and waited for the inevitable teasing to follow.

“You sure?” Rusty asked.

“Yep. And you don’t have to tell me what a chicken I am. I know, okay?” I crossed my arms over my chest, already planning my route down.

Rusty shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me if you jump.” He grabbed the rope swinging between us. “I woulda been surprised if you did. Takes some balls.”

“Let’s see yours then,” I said, irritated he’d thought I wouldn’t do it.

“My balls?” Rusty laughed.

Why did I never think before I said something like that? “That’s not what I meant, you perve. Your jump. If you didn’t think I was gonna jump, that must be what we’re up here to see.” I stepped to the side all huffy, clearing him a path. “So go. Impress me.”

Rusty smirked and took a step back. “Now, why would I need to do that?”

I opened my mouth to respond, then decided to do that thing where you think before you speak. “Never mind. Do what you want. I’m going back down to swim.” I turned without waiting for him to answer and lowered myself down to the first foothold, intent on acting as uninterested as I could.

“Suit yourself,” he called after me.

I could hear the smile in his voice, and I knew he was gonna jump. When I got to the bottom, I sat down on the rock at the edge of the creek, dipped my feet in, and waited. Sure enough, about two seconds later, Rusty let out a yell and came sailing over the edge of the rock, all momentum and force. He flew down, fast and far in a wide arc, and when he got to the top of it, in that tiny moment between up and down, he didn’t just let go. He threw his body backward into a flip that came all the way around just before he plunged into the water, sending up a splash that reached me even at the edge.

It took a few seconds for him to come up, but when he did, he shook his hair out, clearly proud of himself, and he looked over at me, bright eyed and a little out of breath.

“Show-off,” I said, trying not to smile.

He swam over to where I sat and dipped his chin in the water, then spit a fountainlike stream up in the air. “Thought you were gonna swim.”

I leaned back on my elbows. “I am, in a little while.”

“No you’re not,” he said, inching closer.

“I
am
. Leave me alone about it.” I splashed him with my foot.

He shook his head with a smile. “No. You’re gonna swim right now.” I knew an instant before he did it what was about to happen, but I didn’t have any time to defend myself. He grabbed the rock and pulled himself out of the water just enough to wrap his arms around me and take me back in with him. I screamed just before we went under together and twisted around enough to get free and to the surface.

When he came up, I cut my hand into the water and splashed at him, then turned and took off as fast as I could without waiting to see if he’d chase me. I knew he would. He caught me quick, probably in two strokes, and I dug in harder to escape before he dunked me again, but it was no use. I was laughing, and he was too, and there we were, tangled up together in the water and sunshine. In a good kind of way.

22

The branches hanging above me cut the cobalt sky into puzzle pieces that shifted and changed ever so slightly in the breeze. I watched them quietly, not sure if Rusty was still even awake. After dunking each other multiple times, we’d swum and laughed and floated around before pulling ourselves slowly from the water. And now we lay stretched out on the sun-drenched rock at the edge of the creek, almost close enough to touch, but miles away from it at the same time.

I closed my eyes and listened to the occasional chirps of tiny birds hidden in the trees around us, the bubbling of water over rocks down below, cicadas rattling a chorus off in the distance. All sounds of the world carrying on like it always had. So much could change or be lost, and still, the rest of the world went on like it was nothing. It didn’t seem wrong, but it didn’t seem right either.
I’d
gone on today like it was nothing. I’d laughed and felt happy and forgotten for a little while that this was now a world without my brother in it.

But Finn wouldn’t ever get to drive in the Pala again or jump off a crazy swing with Rusty or watch the clouds drift by on a lazy summer day. He wouldn’t get to go to college and play football with his best friend or meet someone perfect, fall in love, and get married. He wouldn’t be there to give me away when I did. He’d given it all up, changed all the plans, and that was what seemed the most wrong. Because he didn’t have to, and nobody wanted him to, but he did. I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to breathe away the guilt that had shifted ever so slightly into anger at the unfairness of it.

“You all right?” Rusty’s hand on my shoulder surprised me more than his voice did.

I sat up, wiping at my eyes. “I’m fine. I just . . .”

“It kinda comes and goes, huh?” He looked out over the water, then back to me, and I wished he couldn’t see so much just then.

I put my head down. “Yeah.”

“I know,” Rusty said. He put his arm around my shoulder. “It does with me, too.” A soft breeze rose and swirled around us, and off in the distance, a muffled rumble of thunder seemed to answer.

“Must be four o’clock,” Rusty said, eyeing the fluffy gray clouds that had rolled in over the mountaintops. Lightning flickered behind one, and its thunder came a few seconds later.

“What does that mean?” I asked, wiping my eyes.

“Means we better head out. Before we get soaked.”

He had no sooner finished saying it than the first fat drop splashed down on the rock between us. I looked at the spot where it landed, and another one plopped right down on my head.

“Too late.” I smiled. I reached for my clothes, and Rusty did the same, and by the time we crossed the little bridge, raindrops had splattered our rock a deeper shade of red and turned the smooth surface of the creek into a collage of expanding rings. When we hit the green twisting path, thunder boomed loud above us and the sky opened up, sending fat raindrops down through the trees, and we ran.

We ran laughing, with the smell of the rain all around and the drops cool on our skin, across the grassy field to the parking lot, where Celia’s old truck sat all alone. I threw open the door on my side and jumped in, shutting it hard behind me. Rusty ducked into the driver’s side and shook his hair out before he closed the door.

“So much for not getting soaked,” I said, out of breath. I ran my hands down my bare arms, then shook the water off. “That came out of nowhere.”

“They roll in pretty quick around here.” Rusty’s eyes ran over my wet clothes. “You got something dry to put on?”

“Yeah. It’s down there.” I motioned to the floor, where a sundress sat draped over my boots. “I’ll be fine till we get back to your mom’s, though. I don’t need to change right now.”

He turned the key in the ignition. “I don’t wanna go back there just yet. It’d be a long night of sittin’ around doin’ nothing.” He thought for a second. “There’s a place up in Flagstaff, has good music and the best burger you ever tasted. You hungry?”

“Yes.” I definitely was. Celia’s “lunch” had consisted of two seaweed and alfalfa sandwiches on sprouted wheat bread, a concoction that was good for cleansing and grounding. That’s what the note said, anyway. “I can always eat.” I smiled. I didn’t want to go back just yet either.

“Yes you can,” Rusty said with a smile. “It’s one of your better qualities.” He put his arm on the seat behind me and twisted around to back the truck out. “That and your little black bikini.”

“Shut up,” I said, trying not to smile too big. “Just drive. I’m starving.”

23

By the time we got to Flagstaff, the rain had stopped, but the afternoon clouds still lit up every few seconds as the storm rolled off into the distance. We turned off the highway at a huge guitar balanced on a marquee shaped like one of those old-fashioned Route 66 road signs. Across it, in big black letters, it said,
WADE BOWEN HERE TONIGHT!

“I know him!” I said, pointing at the sign as we pulled into the parking lot. “Well, I don’t
know
him know him, but I know his music.”

“He’s a Texas boy. New Braunfels, I think,” Rusty said. “Pretty good, too.” He parked Celia’s truck around the side of the log cabin–looking building. “Depending on who’s working, we might be able to stay for the show.”

“Really?”

“We’ll see.” Rusty reached behind his seat and pulled out jeans, a T-shirt, and his boots. “C’mon. Let’s go get changed and get some grub.”

Inside, it was dark and so full of things to look at, I didn’t know where to start. It was definitely a down-home, Rusty kind of place, with its antlers and stuffed animal heads of all different sizes on the wall. Autographed pictures of country singers and old-time cowboys hung everywhere, lit by the glow of scattered neon beer signs. Past the tables in front was a giant wooden bar, where three old cowboys sat talking with beers and a basket of peanuts between them. I liked it right off the bat.

Rusty pointed me to the girls’ bathroom and then ducked into the one across the hall, and when we both came out, he headed over to one of the round booths at the edge of the room.

I scooted across the red leather, to the back of it. “This place is great. How’d you find it?”

“That big sign out there.” I gave him a look. “What? It was advertising
DIME BEER NIGHT,
and I came on in.”

“They serve you beer here? You have an ID?”

“Something like that,” Rusty said with a smirk.

Before I could ask him anything else, a waitress dressed in tight jeans and an even tighter tank top slid up to the table. Her name tag said
SHANA
. “Hey, stranger,” she drawled at Rusty. “Where you been?” She looked like she was about to sit in his lap. And I bet he would’ve liked it too. She was just the way he probably liked a girl to look: long dark hair, heavy-lined eyes, shiny lips, and boobs about to burst right out of her top. I decided I didn’t like her.