The Dark Light of Day
Page 26
Like, ever.
The excitement of the roaring bike beneath me was a thrill I wasn’t expecting. The wind ripped through my hoodie like it was no match for its power. It had been so long since I’d found enjoyment in anything that I was shocked when I heard my own voice shouting into the air. All my senses were still humming when the bike stopped just a few minutes later.
“That was amazing!” I shouted, ripping the helmet from my head, forgetting to be careful of the wound on my jaw. “Ouch.” I rubbed the spot with my hand and placed the helmet back on the seat.
Jake laughed at my clumsiness, but was still looking at my jaw as though it had offended him in some way. “You’ve really never been on a bike before?”
I shook my head. It was then I noticed that he never asked me where I lived, and we certainly weren’t at Nan’s house.
We were at the beach.
“Okay, I know I said I would take you right home, but this is my favorite time of day, and I thought maybe you’d want to take a walk with me. Are you mad?” I was about to tell him that I was too tired for something like that when I realized that I actually was no longer tired at all. The adrenaline from the ride had given me a second wind. I looked out over the water. Sure enough, the sun had started to make its entrance. I’d seen the sunrise many times from Nan’s seawall, and it was always beautiful. But, I’d never seen it from the beach.
“No, I’m not mad,” I said hesitantly. “We can walk.” Jake look pleased with himself and shrugged off his leather jacket. He rested it over the seat and led the way down to the beach. We walked in silence, side by side. The dark light of day flirted with the horizon, peeking out a little at a time. When Jake sat down on the sand, I plopped down next to him, and we watched the sun change from a smear on the horizon to a force to be reckoned with. Its early morning rays were already strong enough to burn the fragile skin of the unprepared tourists.
“I like this,” I said, unsure of what I was telling him I liked—the sunset or the company. I supposed I liked both.
He sighed. “Me, too. But, we don’t exactly make for the best conversationalists, do we?” He picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “I’ll sure take a comfortable silence over uncomfortable conversation any day.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said. “I’ve never been a fan of talking about me anyway.”
“Ditto,” Jake said. “So, what do two people who don’t want to talk about themselves, who obviously have some secrets in their closets, talk about?”
“I never said I had secrets.”
“But you do,” Jake said. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“Doesn’t everybody? Don’t you?”
“More than most.”
“Ditto,” I mimicked him. He laughed and laid down in the sand, staring up into the newly blue sky. He folded his hands over his chest.
“Maybe, someday you can tell me yours.”
“Not likely, “I told him. “You going to tell me yours?”
“Probably not.” He smiled up at me. “I still want to know why you were in the yard the other night, though.”
“It’s no big deal, I just needed somewhere to crash.”
“So, you picked a truck in a junkyard?”
“It’s my Nan’s truck. She never could afford to get it fixed. So, it’s just been sitting there.”
“You didn’t have anywhere else to go?”
I thought about not answering him. It would be easier not to. But he’d given me a ride, and I was tired of running from anyone who asked me anything about myself. “Not really. The foster care gestapo was after me. I was just hiding until she got bored and left.”
“Foster care?” Jake asked. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I answered. He seemed a bit relieved. “She’s probably long gone now.” I hoped she was, anyway. I left out the part about the eviction and being homeless. “I live with my Nan... or, at least, I lived with my Nan. She died three weeks ago, and since I’m not eighteen they want to throw me in foster care.” I volunteered all that. It wasn’t even remotely the biggest secret I was keeping.
“And you’re running from them because you don’t want to go into foster care?”
“I won’t go into foster care.” It was the best answer I could come up with. It was more than me not wanting to. I wasn’t going, and that was it.
“What happens if they force you?” Jake asked.
The excitement of the roaring bike beneath me was a thrill I wasn’t expecting. The wind ripped through my hoodie like it was no match for its power. It had been so long since I’d found enjoyment in anything that I was shocked when I heard my own voice shouting into the air. All my senses were still humming when the bike stopped just a few minutes later.
“That was amazing!” I shouted, ripping the helmet from my head, forgetting to be careful of the wound on my jaw. “Ouch.” I rubbed the spot with my hand and placed the helmet back on the seat.
Jake laughed at my clumsiness, but was still looking at my jaw as though it had offended him in some way. “You’ve really never been on a bike before?”
I shook my head. It was then I noticed that he never asked me where I lived, and we certainly weren’t at Nan’s house.
We were at the beach.
“Okay, I know I said I would take you right home, but this is my favorite time of day, and I thought maybe you’d want to take a walk with me. Are you mad?” I was about to tell him that I was too tired for something like that when I realized that I actually was no longer tired at all. The adrenaline from the ride had given me a second wind. I looked out over the water. Sure enough, the sun had started to make its entrance. I’d seen the sunrise many times from Nan’s seawall, and it was always beautiful. But, I’d never seen it from the beach.
“No, I’m not mad,” I said hesitantly. “We can walk.” Jake look pleased with himself and shrugged off his leather jacket. He rested it over the seat and led the way down to the beach. We walked in silence, side by side. The dark light of day flirted with the horizon, peeking out a little at a time. When Jake sat down on the sand, I plopped down next to him, and we watched the sun change from a smear on the horizon to a force to be reckoned with. Its early morning rays were already strong enough to burn the fragile skin of the unprepared tourists.
“I like this,” I said, unsure of what I was telling him I liked—the sunset or the company. I supposed I liked both.
He sighed. “Me, too. But, we don’t exactly make for the best conversationalists, do we?” He picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “I’ll sure take a comfortable silence over uncomfortable conversation any day.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said. “I’ve never been a fan of talking about me anyway.”
“Ditto,” Jake said. “So, what do two people who don’t want to talk about themselves, who obviously have some secrets in their closets, talk about?”
“I never said I had secrets.”
“But you do,” Jake said. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“Doesn’t everybody? Don’t you?”
“More than most.”
“Ditto,” I mimicked him. He laughed and laid down in the sand, staring up into the newly blue sky. He folded his hands over his chest.
“Maybe, someday you can tell me yours.”
“Not likely, “I told him. “You going to tell me yours?”
“Probably not.” He smiled up at me. “I still want to know why you were in the yard the other night, though.”
“It’s no big deal, I just needed somewhere to crash.”
“So, you picked a truck in a junkyard?”
“It’s my Nan’s truck. She never could afford to get it fixed. So, it’s just been sitting there.”
“You didn’t have anywhere else to go?”
I thought about not answering him. It would be easier not to. But he’d given me a ride, and I was tired of running from anyone who asked me anything about myself. “Not really. The foster care gestapo was after me. I was just hiding until she got bored and left.”
“Foster care?” Jake asked. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I answered. He seemed a bit relieved. “She’s probably long gone now.” I hoped she was, anyway. I left out the part about the eviction and being homeless. “I live with my Nan... or, at least, I lived with my Nan. She died three weeks ago, and since I’m not eighteen they want to throw me in foster care.” I volunteered all that. It wasn’t even remotely the biggest secret I was keeping.
“And you’re running from them because you don’t want to go into foster care?”
“I won’t go into foster care.” It was the best answer I could come up with. It was more than me not wanting to. I wasn’t going, and that was it.
“What happens if they force you?” Jake asked.
