One Moment (4 page)

“Joey,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Joey?”

My hands were frantic, shaky, and numb as I clawed at the fabric that trapped me. I kicked my legs out, flinging the little squares of the past into the air. I heard a loud ripping sound and didn’t understand enough to care. I needed to be free. To go back. To be with him.

I pulled myself upright just as my mother, my father, and Adam rushed from the entry into the living room.

“Maggie.” My mother’s voice shook.

“You’re okay,” my father said, walking to me and kissing the top of my head. He lingered, his hand gripping my shoulder like he was afraid to let go.

“No,” I said. “I’m not.” I pulled away from him, stumbling into the coffee table. Adam grabbed my elbow, steadying me so I didn’t tumble back to the floor.

My father’s eyes blinked furiously as he ran his hand along his stubbled chin. “Honey, I think you need to sit down.”

“Maggie.” My mother dropped to the couch, patting the cushion beside her, her brown eyes glistening with so much emotion, I had to look away. The quilt lay in a messy heap at her feet. “Please have a seat. We need to talk.”

“I’m not talking.” I shook my head, my hair whipping around my shoulders. “I have to go back.” I looked at Adam, whose hands were clasped together in one giant fist. His eyes glimmered with tears, the kind that didn’t spill over. The kind that let you know something still didn’t feel quite real. “You have to take me back.”

“Mags, we can’t just—”

“What if we were wrong? What if he’s still alive? I don’t want him to wake up and wonder where I am. What if he’s—” I choked then, on my words, on the heaviness twisting through me. I looked at Adam and saw the way he’d squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block me from his mind. “What if he’s
scared
?” I asked, my voice streaking through the room, trying to find a place to hide.

“Sweetie.” My mother stood, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You need to sit down.”

I yanked away from her. My feet tangled in the blanket again, and I crashed to the floor. Adam’s hands were on me before I even registered what had happened, and he pulled me up. He’d always been steady and strong. So very alive.

I didn’t want to be there. Not anymore. Not with any of them.

I pushed my way past Adam, through the foyer, and bounced off the doorjamb as I made my way out the front door, stumbling down the porch steps to the walkway.

This time I didn’t make it far. Adam, again. He caught me.

I was spinning. The whole world was spinning. And I wondered if that’s how it had felt for Joey.

My breath exploded out of me as I hit the ground, Adam on top of me. Sticky prickles of grass and blinding sunlight invaded my senses, bringing me back to reality, sucking me under waves of pain.

Adam pressed his heaving chest into mine. Tears streamed from his eyes onto my cheeks, chin, and neck.

“Maggie,” he whispered, “he’s gone.”

I shook my head, straining against the tears that burned my own eyes.

Adam buried his face in my neck, his hot, heavy sobs drowning me.

I looked straight at the sun, the burning, spiraling sun, and hated every wave of its energy. If only it had hidden behind a thick batch of storm clouds today, we never would have gone to the gorge. If not for that faraway star, Joey would still be alive.

My father peeled Adam and me from the sticky ground, balancing us as we shuffled to the house. My mother was waiting with the quilt, and she draped it over me when I sat on the couch next to Adam. I watched my father go for the phone, pick it up, and dial. Then he disappeared into his office, his voice trailing behind him as someone answered on the other end of the line. I looked down and saw my knee poking through a gaping hole that sliced through the patches of fabric.

“Mom,” I said, sucking in a deep breath. “I ruined Grandma’s quilt.”

My mother patted the bare skin of my knee. “That can be fixed.”

Adam’s parents arrived less than fifteen minutes after my father called them. Twelve, to be exact. I knew because I’d been staring at the clock like it was the only tether still tying me to Joey, even if each second ticked me farther and farther away from the last moment I had had with him. My last moment with Joey. Nothing about that thought felt real.

“Adam! Oh, dear God, thank you.” Mrs. Meacham rushed to the couch and wrapped her arms around Adam, pulling him close. Mr. Meacham kneeled in front of them and hugged them together. “You’re okay?” Adam’s mother leaned back and looked Adam up and down.

“There’s blood,” Mr. Meacham said, gently gripping Adam’s arm and inspecting his skin.

“It’s not mine.” Adam rubbed at the spot and then quickly pulled his hand away.

“Oh, God.” Mrs. Meacham melted into the couch cushion, holding her hand to her heart, her brown curls quivering. “Joey. I feel like that boy is one of my own, you two have been friends for so long. I have no idea how Trisha and Mike are going to handle the news.”

I closed my eyes at the thought of Joey’s parents. I saw them in a hundred different ways all at once: playing cards at the dining room table, sitting together on the porch swing, reading on the back patio. Smiling. They were always smiling. Pressing my fingertips into my eyes, I erased their happy faces, groaning at the thought of them hearing the news. Would the police just knock on their door and tell them that their son had died?

“Mom.” Adam gripped my hand in his, pulling my fingers away from my eyes. “Can you
not
do that right now?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Meacham wiped tears from her face and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just … Do they know yet? Has anyone called them?”

“We figured it would be best if we let the police handle that,” my father said. “Since we don’t know exactly what’s going on.”

“You told us they left the scene,” Mr. Meacham said. “Is that true?” Mr. Meacham looked from Adam to me and back again.

“Yeah,” Adam nodded, looking to the ground. “I had to … Maggie couldn’t stay, Dad. I had to get her out of there.”

“I just don’t understand how you could leave Joey—”

“I didn’t
leave
Joey, Dad.” Adam’s voice shook with anger. “There was nothing I could do for him. But Maggie needed my help.”

“Maggie was the only person on top of the cliff with Joey when it happened,” my father said. “She doesn’t remember anything. At least nothing significant. I think Adam was focused on getting her away as fast as he could, to keep her from seeing … anything.”

“It’s like I was losing her, too,” Adam whispered, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back and tugged away quickly, unsure why the action sent an electric jolt up my arm. “It scared me when she couldn’t remember, how she couldn’t answer any of my questions. I was afraid of what might happen if she stayed with him. Joey was so … still. And I knew he wouldn’t want her there.”

Adam’s words tripped me up. I remembered when he first found me in the woods. The vision was a quick flash, but his eyes came back to me, how the swirling currents of green were wild with something that ran much deeper than fear. Everything else had faded into a dark, shadowy nothing.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft. “For taking care of me.”

A silence that felt like a heavy weight blanketed the room, and I wished I’d just kept my mouth shut. I wondered if we were all thinking the same thing:
Why didn’t anyone take care of Joey?

“You can’t recall anything, dear?” Mrs. Meacham’s voice was tinged with pleading. It made me want to scream.

I shook my head.

“She can remember some of the stuff that happened right before they climbed up the trail,” Adam said. “But nothing else.”

“I’m sure it’s the shock.” Mrs. Meacham looked at my mom and shook her head. “Nothing to worry about.”

“What about you?” Mr. Meacham tilted his head toward Adam. “What do you remember?”

Adam’s eyes flitted to me, and then quickly away. “Dad, now’s not the time to—”

“It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but I needed to find out. “I want to know, too.”

Adam sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He didn’t look at anyone, just the ground, as he started talking.

“We all saw Joey and Maggie when they got to the top of the cliff. They walked out to the edge, like always, to make sure the water was clear. Maggie looked a little pale, kind of freaked, and Joey was talking to her.”

I strained, trying to remember. What had Joey said? What had happened in those last minutes? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see Joey. Couldn’t remember one single word he had said.

“They turned, and we waited. Just like always. Then, a minute or two later, Joey flew over the edge. But that part wasn’t like always. He was kind of twisted, his fall was awkward.”

“What exactly do you mean by awkward?” Mr. Meacham asked.

“Off balance. His arms were spread out. Like he was trying to steady himself. But he couldn’t do it in time. And he hit the ledge.”

I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, burying my face in the patches of old fabric that I’d pulled over my knees. Joey hit the ledge?

“His head.” Adam’s words were hoarse. Strained. “He hit the ledge with the side of his head. And then he was in the water. We all raced out to get him—everyone except Shannon, who grabbed a phone—and got him to the bank as fast as we could.”

What had I been doing?
I asked myself.
While my friends were trying to save my boyfriend’s life, where was I? Why hadn’t I scrambled down to help?

“When we realized there was nothing we could do, I climbed up to find Maggie. We’d been calling to her, but she hadn’t answered. I found her a good way from the cliff, hiding just off the trail. And when she said she didn’t remember anything, I panicked.”

As I listened to Adam’s shaking voice, I wasn’t so sure if I ever wanted to remember. Remembering might make everything feel worse than it already did. And I wasn’t sure I could handle that.

“Were you drinking?” Adam’s father asked, his eyes tight.

“I don’t think now is the time to delve into all of that,” my father said.

“There is no better time.” Mr. Meacham shoved a hand in the pocket of his tan golf shorts. “The police will be asking the kids all kinds of questions in the very near future.”

My stomach dropped and the room started to spin. “I don’t want to talk to the police,” I said, tilting my head up from my knees even though I felt as if I might be sick.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, Maggie, but you’re not going to have a choice.” Mr. Meacham pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the first thing they’re going to ask is why you two left the scene.”

Adam looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“We appreciate you taking care of our daughter,” my mother said to Adam, her voice soft, reassuring. “Don’t you two worry about anything. The police will ask a few questions and leave. They have to follow procedure. Nothing will come of it.”

I took a deep breath, hoping she was right. Hoping they would accept the fact that I didn’t remember anything. Because after hearing Adam’s version of what happened, I decided that I didn’t want to recall my own memories. No matter who wanted to know, I wasn’t about to try to sort through the jumble of flashes and put it all back together again. If it were up to me, I would erase every moment that happened after Joey kissed me on those rocks. If I could, I might even erase myself.

“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take Maggie upstairs,” my mother said. “A nice warm shower and—”

“No!” I sat forward, looking right at Adam. “I want to stay with Adam.”

“I think it’s best if we take Adam home,” Mr. Meacham said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam insisted.

My father cleared his throat. “What if we call the police? Making the first contact might be the smartest choice, letting them know we’re willing to help in any way we can. We could tell them they can stop by and speak to the kids together.”

I nodded. Anything to keep Adam from leaving. I felt like he was the only thing holding me together, and I was scared that if he was gone everything left of me would crumble into a fine dust.

“It might be a good idea.” Mrs. Meacham looked at her husband. “We don’t want them to think we’re hiding anything.”

“They’re not going to come here,” Mr. Meacham said. “They’ll want to question the kids at the station.”

“You watch entirely too much television, dear,” Mrs. Meacham said. “I’m sure, under the circumstances, they’ll be happy to come to the house.”

“I’ll call them now,” my father said.

I looked up at Adam’s face, at his shimmering eyes, and had an overwhelming need to touch him. To make sure he was real. Because nothing in my world felt real anymore. It all seemed like a dirty trick someone was playing to get back at me for something. Trouble was, I couldn’t figure out what.

I reached out and grabbed onto Adam’s wrist and felt the pulse of blood flowing through his body. He looked at my hand and then covered it with his own.

Holding on to him, staring at the frayed edges of the ripped quilt, I focused all of my fading energy on keeping that moment from turning into the next.