Made of Stars (21 page)

But then the tide helps push us toward Harper’s Beach, though it still isn’t close enough. I keep hold of his arm with one hand, and slide over the edge of the raft and into the frigid ocean. I anticipated it being about thigh-high, but the water reaches the center of my chest. The shock of cold renders me unable to move at first as my lungs and limbs seize up. But the shore is
right there
. With every bit of effort I can muster, I dig my feet into the ground and pull until the raft gives a satisfying scrape against the shore.

I haul Chance out, ignoring the abandoned oars and the way the water threatens to carry them away. We won’t need it again. Chance drops his head to my shoulder as I stagger up the beach, panting, shivering, muscles aching from carrying almost dead weight. But I make it back to the car, pull Chance into the back along with me, and shut the doors, protecting us from the wind.

Here, I can shove my key in the ignition and get the heater going. For Chance, and for myself before I’m in as bad a state as he is. I tilt my head back against the window, still trying to catch my breath and telling myself everything will be okay now. Chance presses his face into my throat, and I feel his shaky breathing against my skin, warm and labored. He whispers, “Can’t see them.”

I force my voice into cooperation, rubbing at his arms to warm him. “Can’t see what?”

“Stars.” His lips move; I can feel them on my neck. So, so cold. “Can’t see the stars.”

Of course. He would be thinking about something like that at a time like this, wouldn’t he? I shift back, until I can look at his face and slide a hand through his hair. “We’re made of stars. You said so yourself. So can you just look at me for now?”

Chance’s bright green eyes slit open to watch me. I’m pretty sure that’s a smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t try to talk anymore. I let him stare at me while I stare back, touching his face, his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to his forehead.

The paramedics arrive within ten minutes, a blur of whirling lights and deafening sirens. They pull Chance away from me, bundling him up, getting him on a gurney. I want to go with him, but a paramedic puts a hand to my chest.

“He’ll be all right, son. Best not to leave your car out here. Just follow us to the hospital, hmm?”

That’s true, but I still linger even as they load him into the back of the ambulance and drive away. Guilt, anger, worry all knot in my insides and broil beneath the surface. He’s fine. He’s going to live.

But is he going to be
okay
?

Ashlin

I freeze for the five seconds it takes my brain to register what’s going on: someone is in the house with me. And unless it’s Chance—which I know it’s not—that is a Very. Bad. Thing.

Off goes the flashlight. I whip around and try for the window, giving it a good yank, only to realize it’s been nailed shut. Chance never would’ve done such a thing, meaning Zeke did it. He locked Chance inside so he couldn’t sneak out.

No way would I have time to slip into the hall and find another hiding place. So under the bed it is. Dust bunnies tickle my nose along with the smell of unwashed laundry, and it’s all I can do to make myself as small as possible and pray to every deity I can think of to make me invisible.

The footsteps come into the hall, one slow, cautious step at a time. Not the police, then. Honestly, I’d rather deal with Roger or one of the other officers busting me for this than come face to face with Zeke Harvey.

Adrenaline pours through me, flushing into every vein, every nerve, making my muscles twitch and tense even as I’m trying to stay still. Maybe he’ll walk past. Maybe he’ll go to his room—
shit, shit, shit, did I close the window?—
and he’ll never come in here.

Except the footfalls travel right past the door…and stop.

My phone is going off.

It’s on vibrate, but the buzzing of its movement is a sound in and of itself, and I don’t know how loud it is. If it’s loud enough for someone to hear it from the hall. It buzzes a few times then goes still again in my back pocket; I exhale as slowly as I can. It could have been Dad. It could have been Hunter. Either way, whoever it was is going to worry that I didn’t answer, and—

Chance’s door swings open.

I press my hands over my mouth and nose.
Breathe, Ash. Breathe slowly. Easy. Relax. Calm.

From my position, I can see feet. Dirty, old, tan work boots, laces knotted tightly. The kind of boots that would belong to someone like Zeke Harvey. He strolls through the mess on the floor and stops, just by the foot of the bed. All it would take is for him to lean down and peek underneath and we’d be eye to eye and he’d kill me.

I want to shut my eyes so badly, but if he does look under here, I have to be ready to roll out and make a run for it. Run as fast as I can. Take off out the front door and into the woods where he’ll never find me, and I can follow the creek back home.

Escape plan. See? Everything will be okay.

(I have never wanted my brother with me so badly in all my life.)

Zeke starts over toward the pile of laundry beneath the window. I think he’s looking outside. When he turns around, he comes across one of the rocks stuffed into a sock and steps on it, startling him to his knees.

“Fuck,”
he snarls, snatching up the sock and chucking it at the wall. “Bash that boy’s head in…”

The rocks weren’t Chance’s craziness, I realize. They were protection. A deterrent to keep Zeke out of his room. Or at least to give Chance an opportunity to get away. His room is an obstacle course.

Still swearing threats under his breath, Zeke leaves the room. I strain my ears for the sound of him, wondering if maybe, maybe I could risk a phone call to the police to tell them Zeke is in the house. Maybe they could get here in time to arrest him. I’d have to explain myself for breaking in, but who cares? In the grand scheme of things…

No, first things first, I need to get outside. He’ll hear me if I call now, and then I won’t be of use to anyone.

After a few painful minutes of hearing nothing, Zeke’s steps sound in the hall again, this time accompanied by the noise of something being dragged…rolled? A suitcase? Did he come home to get some things so he could take off? What if he doesn’t plan on sticking around in town like Chance thought? What if he chalks it up as a loss and decides to get the hell away while he can?

My stomach lurches as the front door opens and closes again. I wait a few seconds longer and then, trembling, biting back tears, I roll out from under the bed and shove the camera into my pocket.

I need to get out of here. Now.

I dart down the hall, back into Zeke’s room, not taking any time to try to figure out what he packed and brought with him. The window is shut. I can’t remember if I closed it. I slide it back open, swinging my leg over the frame to crawl outside. My feet hit first the cinder blocks, and then the snow. I’m free. Safe.

Then I turn to see Zeke a few feet away, eyes locked onto mine.

His mouth pulls up into a sneer. “You…”

I don’t let him finish that sentence. I’m tearing off for the trees as fast as my legs will take me. Zeke roars after me and oh, God, I don’t even know which direction to go in the dark. He screams for me to stop. Right. Like I’m about to come to a screeching halt because a rampaging bull tells me I should.

The sound of the creek is a symphony to my ears. I take a left, ducking branches, fumbling for my flashlight. Not realizing Zeke is close. Not until his strong hand wraps on my bicep and spins me around.

Except we’re close enough to the creek now, and the ground here slopes drastically. I throw my full weight back, catching him off guard enough that we both lose our footing…and down we go.

For a minute, the world goes black.

But I’ve stopped rolling. Pain blossoms hotly from my right shoulder. Snow is melting down the back of my shirt. I grasp for my flashlight—gone. My phone—gone. Only the camera is still in place. Whether in one piece or not, I don’t know. Not sticking around long enough to find out.

Nearby, Zeke groans and begins to pick himself up. I roll onto my back and scoot away, scrambling for purchase as he crawls through the snow toward me. A rivet of blood creeps down one side of his face.

“Where is he?” Zeke rasps. “Where is Chance?”

The heel of my shoe catches a rock firmly embedded in the frozen ground; it grants me enough leverage to push to my feet and start up the hill. I don’t say anything. I don’t look back. I keep going until my lungs are fit to burst and I’m on solid ground again. Only then do I look over my shoulder. Zeke is still at the bottom of the hill, struggling to climb it. I take a few steps back, mourning the loss of my phone.

But I have the camera, and right now that takes priority.

I vanish into the darkness and try to find my way home.

Hunter

I don’t have the luxury of running through every red light like the ambulance, so I figure by the time I get to the hospital lobby, they must have Chance already registered and in there somewhere. The emergency room is surprisingly quiet this time of night. Only a few parents with sniffly children and an old lady with a bad cough. I’m still wet and cold, but I had a change of clothes for work in the trunk, so I take a detour for the bathroom to at least get into something dry.

In the lobby, no one is in line so I go straight to the receptionist. “My friend was brought in just a bit ago,” I say. “Last name is Harvey.”

The lady, a younger girl with her hair braided and wearing thick glasses, checks her computer. “Hmm… No, I don’t see that name.”

I know he’s here
, I start to say, then realize—I never told the paramedics his name. He’s a John Doe, for all they know, especially if Chance didn’t have an ID on him. “He came in the ambulance, he’s about my age. They probably don’t know his name.” When she only stares at me, I add, “Please. Please, can you just…make a phone call and see?”

She relents, picking up the phone and ringing somewhere else in the building to ask about a teenage boy brought in. I strain to hear whatever is said, but the voice on the other end is too muffled.

The receptionist hangs up and inclines her head. “He’s going to be all right. They’re treating him for hypothermia, and he’s sleeping.”

I brace my hands against the counter and exhale. “Can I see him?”

“I’m afraid not. Family only.”

“How do you know I’m not family?”

“You said he was your friend.” She smiles wanly. “I’m sorry. Though any information you can give us on his identity would be appreciated. They said he had no identification on him. What did you say his last name was? Harvard?”

My eyes narrow. “So I’m not allowed to see him, but I’m allowed to tell you who he is?” I push away from the counter. “No thanks.”

She doesn’t try to stop me as I stomp off. It’s a dramatic gesture, only done out of spite, and maybe I ought to go back and tell her Chance’s name, but what good will it do him? What if she inputs his name into the computer and it somehow alerts the police department? Will they come down here and arrest him? I can stand a lot of things, but I’m not so sure I could stand watching them put Chance in handcuffs and shove him in the back of a cruiser.

But I can’t just go home. I can’t sit around here forever, either, and hope a nurse takes pity on me and lets me in to see Chance. Dad might have the push to get access, but that would mean—

I’d have to tell him. He would need to know I went after Chance on that island, and there’s no telling if
he
would call Roger and alert them that Chance is here.

I sink onto a bench outside, exhausted from being in the cold but not wanting to be inside with the people and their flus and sniffly kids and normal, everyday problems while our world is spiraling further and further into the realm of
what the hell is happening.
I try to go through the steps of sorting everything out in my head.

First, most importantly, Chance is going to be okay. Hypothermia can kill you, yeah, but he was conscious and talking so he can’t be that bad. Whatever else may happen, Chance is going to live.

Second, even if the cops take him in, even if he’s arrested and punished for evading the police, it has to be better than all the running and hiding he’s been doing. Better than freezing to death. And certainly better than risking a run-in with Zeke.

Third, Dad will be severely ticked off at me, but he’ll also be happy to know Chance is safe. The anger will fade with time (and a lot of lecturing), but if Chance had died…that isn’t something that would ever go away.

After I’ve composed myself enough, I pull out my cell and call Ash again. Her phone goes straight to voice mail. Weird. Unfortunately, that means I’m stuck calling Dad because there is no landline at the house, and even if there were, I doubt Ash would answer it.

Dad’s phone rings a few times before he answers blearily, “H’llo?”

“It’s me.” Pause. “I found Chance.”

Immediately, Dad is awake and alert. “Where is he? For that matter— Jesus, look at the time— Where are you?”

“The hospital.” I grimace at the way Dad swears loudly. He doesn’t do it often, so when he does… “I’m okay. Chance is okay. He’s got hypothermia, but they said he’ll be fine. Can you just…”

I pride myself on being a pretty tough guy. Level-headed. I’m not a crier. I’m not a baby. I don’t rely on others to help me through things. But I realize right now, in this very instant, in this situation where I feel so lost and fumbling and confused…

I really, really need my dad.

Because he’s my dad, he understands without my having to finish that statement. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Hunter. Hang tight.”

Ashlin

Home has never felt so good. My bones ache from the snow, which is turning into a full-force blizzard by now. Dad’s light is still out, thank God, so I can crawl up to my room, where I sink to my bed.

And cry.

I press my face into my hands, torn between sobbing and laughing. Because I just broke into someone’s house. Because a murderer
chased me through the fucking woods
. Because I can’t tell anyone about it, so I need to breathe and remind myself it’s okay, I’m okay, and it was worth it. Zeke doesn’t know where I live; he can’t follow me home. No way. He’ll have gotten back into his truck and driven the hell out of here.