I Will Save You (20 page)

“Come on,” she said. “Just one little one.”

“I already told you, June. Not now.”

“One kiss isn’t gonna kill anybody. I promise I won’t go by your neck.”

The woman sat up, said: “He knows you won’t, honey, ’cause he isn’t letting anybody kiss him.”

The girl turned her head and pouted. She was a light-skinned black girl with hair down to her shoulders. She had a star tattoo on the side of her neck and she was burned on one of her arms and she seemed familiar. Like I’d seen her at the beach or in a store at some point.

The woman stared at Devon for a while, then she opened the big green trash bag by her feet and dug around, pulled out some clippers and started doing her fingernails. She was skinny and white and her face seemed leathery, like pictures you see of old farmer people sitting on their tractors.

Without looking up she said: “What do you expect, though, Devon? The poor girl never knows when she’s gonna see you.”

He shook his head, looked at the bridge above him.

“What?” the woman said.

“I don’t even know.”

The woman cackled. “I’ve met a lot of people in my day. But you’re easily the biggest enigma.”

Devon looked at her. “Who? Me?”

“You,” she said, clipping another nail.

“What’s an enigma?” the girl said.

“Somebody who’s like a puzzle,” the woman said.

“Now I’m a puzzle.”

“And the pieces are scattered all around. Nobody knows where they go.”

I sat perfectly still, hanging on every word of their conversation, watching their every move. This was such a different Devon. When he was with me he was laughing or telling me his theories about rich people or acting like he was helping me.

The Devon under the bridge seemed like somebody I’d never met before.

“Whatever,” Devon said. He sat there for a while and then said: “So, you know that thing I told you last week? How I have this feeling I’m gonna hurt somebody?”

My whole body froze.

I pictured him shoving my head underwater.

Him looking at Olivia.

“How could we forget?” the woman said.

The girl sat up. “You don’t have to, though. It’s in your control.”

“That’s what it
seems
like. To people on the outside.”

“No, June’s right,” the woman said. “You have a choice.”

Devon shook his head and looked at the ground. “Nah, it’s already been decided in my DNA. You can only pretend for so long.”

The woman shook her head. “You really believe in that?”

Devon shrugged.

“I sure as hell don’t. It wasn’t decided that I’d end up under this stupid bridge. With runaways half my age. My dad was an electrician.”

“He was?” the girl said.

“Until the day he died. My mom took care of me and my brothers. They had nothing to do with where I am right now.”

“It’s not the same with everybody,” Devon said.

The black girl played with her hair and stared at Devon.

The woman tossed her nail clipper back in her bag. “I used to promote comedians in L.A. Did you know that?”

Devon just sat there.

“I’d come back from lunch and there’d be thirty e-mails in my in-box. People needed to reach me.”

Devon picked up a stick, stuck it into one of his shoelace holes.

“It’s not all about your DNA. You can be anybody you wanna be.”

“I believe that, too,” the girl said.

Devon shook his head. “Well, that’s your fairy tale,” he said. “I believe it’s already determined what we’re gonna do. No matter what choices we make, it still leads back to how it’s supposed to happen.”

“That’s depressing,” the girl said.

The woman scoffed. “And what if somebody just jumped off a bridge? What then? That wouldn’t change a thing?”

Devon tossed the stick and looked at the woman. He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out and he looked at his hands instead.

The girl started rubbing Devon’s back, but when he looked at her she stopped: “Jesus, sorry. I don’t understand how you can hate being touched.”

“He’ll always hate it,” the woman said. “It’s written in his DNA.”

She laughed, but nobody else did.

They were all quiet for a few minutes and then Devon stood up.

“What?” the girl said.

Devon started looking all around so I ducked behind the concrete wall.

“What now?” I heard the woman say.

“Somebody’s watching us,” Devon said.

I peeked around the wall, saw the woman stand up, too. “It’s probably just Texas or Sean,” she said.

“Probably,” Devon said.

I slipped back out of sight and climbed out from under the bridge. When there weren’t any cars coming I ran across the on-ramp, past the gas station.

I looked back, saw Devon come up from under the bridge, too. Then the woman and the girl. But they weren’t looking in my direction.

I turned around and jogged past the gas station, back down Birmingham and through the park.

I didn’t stop running until I got back to the campsites and went in my tent with Peanut. Then I just sat there, petting him, trying to catch my breath.

I looked everywhere for the book Olivia had given me, but it was gone. I tried to think how I could lose it in one day. I looked at Peanut, wondering if he carried it somewhere.

But mostly I kept thinking over and over about what I just saw and heard. And how Devon was actually a homeless person. He lived under a freeway. I knew even less about him than I thought.

My stomach felt sick for some reason.

And unbalanced.

But at the same time, I couldn’t wait to follow him again.

I became obsessed
with finding out about Devon. For the next week I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’d go to work with Mr. Red and daydream about what Devon might be doing. I’d be with Olivia at the beach, at night, listening to her talk and I’d start wondering about Devon.

I was no longer depressed, either. I was too busy looking for clues. Some nights I’d spy him under the freeway bridge or hanging out along the train tracks or in the park. Sometimes I’d see him wandering the streets by himself in the middle of the night.

One time I followed him into a grocery store. Watched him go up and down every aisle with his empty cart, picking things up and reading the labels and putting them back down, then wheeling his cart to the next item. He didn’t buy or steal anything. He just seemed lonely, like he didn’t have anything else to do. I actually felt sorry for him.

Another night I followed Devon out from under the bridge with his girlfriend. They walked along the side of the freeway together, barely talking, and disappeared into the mouth of this big drainage pipe. When I got up to them I waited. I figured they’d probably come right back out, and I didn’t want them to see me.

Ten minutes went by.

Twenty minutes.

Finally I climbed down near the pipe and peeked in. My eyes went wide with what I saw.

Devon and his homeless girlfriend half naked and kissing
and him laying on her and her hands wrapped around his neck. She was making little noises and her eyes were shut tight.

I felt instantly ashamed and went away from the pipe and climbed up the hill and sat there behind the bushes, trying not to picture it.

I watched night cars whizz by on the freeway. All different colors and sizes holding all different kinds of people. I wondered if Devon liked the homeless girl as much as I liked Olivia. And why didn’t he ever talk about her? And would me and Olivia ever kiss like that? Or were we just friends?

I wondered if I’d ever be undressed like that with
any
girl. And if I’d know what to do. And would that mean the girl loved me? And we were together?

All kinds of strange thoughts on love were running through my head, and then I heard Devon and his girlfriend start to come out. I hid behind the bushes, watched them walk along the freeway back toward the bridge, still not holding hands or talking.

I decided not to follow them anymore that night.

Another time I followed Devon as he walked the beach by himself, in the same direction as Olivia’s favorite boarded-up lifeguard tower. He went slow and kept looking at the ocean, like something was happening out there. But the water was calm like any other night. He walked all the way to where we confronted the college guys, and then he stopped. Like he was looking for them. But there was nobody.

He sat in the sand and pulled a banana out of his bag and started eating it.

Here’s the weirdest thing, though. During all the times I followed Devon, I kept thinking he knew someone was behind him. He’d sometimes peek over his shoulder. Or he’d stop in his tracks and just stand there, listening. But he never looked at me.

Maybe it was too dark and I was just being paranoid.

As I watched Devon with his banana, I started wondering even more about him. I knew he had no family, and he had a death drive, and he was depressed. I knew he wanted to have a revolution against rich people, and he didn’t think blond girls had spices, and he stole everything he owned.

But what else?

Like, what’d he think about when he walked the beach all alone? And why’d he always go to the train tracks? And did he ever think about his future? Like how I thought about doing the summer intern thing with the zoo?

I wondered what would happen to him.

The Scariest Place I Followed Devon

One night Devon came by later than usual and stood on the other side of my tent, just breathing.

“Special, man,” he finally said. “I’ve been thinking.”

I didn’t say anything back.

Peanut made a growling face at me until I pet him.

“Maybe I’ve been wrong about you all these years,” Devon said.

There was another long pause, and then he cleared his throat and turned his shadow face to the ground. “Maybe you’re better off here. With these rich people you hang with. Maybe this is where you belong.”

I sat there in shock.

As long as I’d known Devon he never said anything like that. I even thought about unzipping my tent to make sure it was really him.

“I’ve decided to leave you alone,” he said.

I stared at Peanut.

Peanut stared back.

“But you’re no longer part of my revolution,” he said. “And just so we’re clear. If you’re not with me, Special, you’re against me. You understand?”

I didn’t answer.

He ran a finger down my tent wall and said: “Anyways, this is it, dude. This is goodbye.”

I listened to Devon’s footsteps going away from my tent. I waited a few seconds, then unzipped my tent and saw him walking down the campsite path toward Mr. Red’s work shed.

I slipped out and followed him.

Devon jimmied Mr. Red’s lock and went in and pulled the door partly closed behind him. I stared at the outside of the shed, wondering why anybody’d wanna break into a work shed. All that was in there was Mr. Red’s tools and materials like paint and water hoses and bags of fertilizer and work gloves. And it wasn’t big. You had to duck your head to walk around.

I slipped behind a bush and stared at the shed door. For a while I thought he must be sleeping, and I wondered what Mr. Red would say when he found Devon in the morning. But then Devon came out and redid the lock and looked all around. He didn’t have any tools in his hands.

He walked right past my bush but didn’t see me.

When he was far enough ahead I followed again.

He went to Olivia and her friends’ campsite and hid behind a tree. I watched Devon watch them and I instantly realized what was happening. The girls were just sitting around their campfire, talking, and eating s’mores, but Devon’s eyes were stuck on only one of the girls.

Olivia.

He was staring at her the whole time. Even when she walked to the bathroom a couple campsites up the path, Devon’s eyes never left her.

Everything he’d just said at my tent was a fake. He wasn’t leaving me alone, letting me be on another side. He was just trying a different way to get back at me.

Through Olivia.

I remembered all the times Devon said Olivia wasn’t pretty and why would I waste my time on a blonde, especially one who hid part of her face under a ski cap. I didn’t think he could actually
like
her.

So I decided something.

He must wanna
hurt
her.

Which would hurt me.

As I watched Devon watch Olivia I felt like I was gonna throw up. I thought about my mom’s letter, telling me how sometimes people have to do things to protect the people they love. How she hoped one day I’d forgive her.

And then I realized something.

All these years I’d had every word in her letter memorized. I could say them by heart. But I never truly understood what those words
meant
.

Until now.

An hour later all the girls, including Olivia, went in their tents for the night and shut off their lights. I watched Devon go out from behind his tree and walk toward the campsite exit.

As he faded from my view I made myself a promise.

Next time Devon came knocking on my tent I was gonna answer it.

Dreams from Solitary Confinement

I suck in my breath and slip through cell bars. Again. Float into the nighttime sky, up near comb-over clouds.

I move past freeway cars and empty mini-mall parking lots, crisscrossing phone wires that frame deserted neighborhood streets. Cars are pulled into driveways where people are locked safely inside, in their beds, asleep, dreaming like I’m dreaming but more innocent and free.

I drift over Devon’s train tracks, past Olivia’s quiet tent, past Campsite Coffee and the never-ending stairs going down to the sand. And this time when I lower onto my beach towel across from Olivia she’s with Mr. Red, who has Peanut on a leash.

When I land Mr. Red and Olivia stay facing each other and talking. They don’t look at me.