Laura stopped on the trail. I gave her a questioning stare. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes were frightened.
“What is it?”
She didn’t say anything. The trees around us were already a black parade of soldiers. I followed her eyes, but I didn’t see anything in the shadows.
“What?” I repeated.
“Someone’s there,” Laura said.
I looked again. I took a couple of steps closer to the trees. I didn’t smell anything but pine, like Christmas in July.
“Are you sure?”
“I heard someone,” she insisted.
I thought she was wrong, but it was easy to feel like you weren’t alone in the park. There was a bigness about it. It felt primitive, like we were miles from the city. People came here to do secret things. You never knew who was around.
“Come out!” I shouted. “Hey!”
A violent rustling shook the brush, and I froze, completely startled. A wild turkey lurched out of the woods in front of me, wings flapping excitedly. He was a quivering bundle of striped brown feathers with a cherry-red neck, who beat his way across the path and buried himself in the tangle of leafy bushes.
Laura and I both jumped and screamed. We scrambled away, nearly falling. Laura hugged the strap of her backpack tighter to her body. My heart galloped. It was silly, but it’s the kind of thing that pumps you with adrenaline and leaves you feeling keyed up. When the turkey was gone, we kept walking, but Laura continued to turn every few steps and look nervously behind us.
I could hear boys’ voices ahead of us as we got closer to the softball field. We had parked near the field an hour earlier. I wanted to sit and watch Jonny play, but Laura didn’t want to hang around the boys, and I didn’t blame her. They had beers at every base, and several of them were already drunk. We were the only two girls around, and they didn’t take their eyes off us when we arrived. Some girls preened and puffed up at attention like that, but Laura wilted and wanted to run.
Even now, as we reached the end of the trail that looped back to the field, she hung back.
“Let’s go down to the lake,” she said.
“Why don’t we wait until the game’s over? Then Jonny can come with us.”
“No, I know the two of you want to be alone.”
That was true. I felt bad, but I wanted Jonny to myself that night. Him and me. Out in the water and then on the beach together. Still, I didn’t want to leave Laura by herself.
“It’s okay. You can stay with us.”
“Say it like you mean it,” Laura replied. She finally smiled.
“No, it’s just-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave when you guys get together. Let’s go.”
“I need to tell Jonny where to meet us.”
I led the way out of the woods. Laura folded her arms over her chest and followed tentatively behind me. The voices and laughter got louder. There were a couple dozen boys in a rough diamond in the field, some playing, some sitting in the dirt near the parking lot. Cars were parked haphazardly in the weeds behind them, beside a winding road that led down from the highway. The field was nothing but grass and brush, small enough that a solid hit would pitch the ball into the marshland. Over the cattails, I could see a creek winding toward the lake.
The sky was like charcoal to the west. Bursts of lightning made the clouds glow, and I could smell rain. Somewhere nearby, on one of the other trails that made a web through the large park, I heard firecrackers.
I saw Jonny playing first base. The trees ended at the edge of the softball field, and Laura and I came up behind him. He turned as he saw the other boys waving to us. Some of them made catcalls. There were empty beer bottles thrown aside everywhere.
Jonny had a serious face, but it softened when he saw me. Whenever I was with Laura, I was used to being invisible, but Jonny looked at me as if he didn’t see anyone else. I’d like to tell you what the connection was between us, or why it happened so quickly. The truth is, I have no idea. Sure, he’s handsome. Tall and lean, still a little short of meat and muscle, like most boys. He’s got that long, wavy hair that looks untamed. And those amazing eyes. That was what I first noticed, his eyes, which are dark and deep. I could see everything in them. Pain. Loss. Black humor. Seriousness of purpose. He is so intense that I just have to cut him down to size every now and then, and he doesn’t seem to care when I wound his ego.
Right now, he is searching. I understand, because that was me, after my mom died. I was fourteen then, and I spent a lot of time searching, wondering where to go, what I would do, who I would become. I feel as if I’ve found my answers, but Jonny only lost his dad nine months ago, and he’s still looking. He grew up wanting to go to sea like his dad, but not anymore. His mother won’t let another Stride step on board an ore boat. I don’t think Jonny wants it now, either. It’s like the lake betrayed him when it took his father. Now the lake is an enemy.
I don’t know what he will do, but when he figures it out, I know he’ll pour his whole heart and soul into it. Like he’s poured his heart and soul into me.
Jonny shouted something to the pitcher, who held the ball and waited for him. He came off the base and jogged up to us. He wore shorts and sneakers. His chest was bare. He kissed me.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
We were awkward around each other, because we both knew what we were thinking. It’s exciting, unsettling, and unnerving when you know you’re going to do it.
“We’re going down to the lake,” I told him. “Meet us there, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you be long?”
“No, we’re almost done, and the rain will probably wash us out in a couple minutes anyway.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Jonny kissed me again. He waved at Laura, but I could see him wondering if the two of us would be alone. Part of me wanted Laura to stay, because I was nervous about what was going to happen. Part of me couldn’t wait to jump off the cliff.
We continued by the side of the field to where another trail led down along the creek toward the lake. The eyes of the boys followed us. They made jokes. Laura stayed on my left and stared at the ground.
I noticed Peter Stanhope among the boys. He was coming up to bat next. We had to pass within a few feet of him, and he leaned on his bat and watched us the whole way, his head swiveling to track us, his eyes gleaming. Laura didn’t look up at all, but I could tell she knew he was there. It was Laura he wanted. He didn’t say a word to either of us, but we felt him. Peter had a presence, because he was so sure of himself. He wasn’t as tall as Jonny, but he was beefy and strong. He had bushy blond hair, parted in the middle, swept back in two waves. He chewed gum relentlessly, and his lips were always parted in a perpetual smirk that dimpled his cheeks. His skin was ruddy and freckled.