Linger (22 page)

I touched the edge of the piano; the smooth finish was cold beneath my fingertips. Somehow, right now, with the chill evening pressing in against the windows, waiting to change my skin, I was more human than I had been in a long time.

• ISABEL •

I sulked for a while and then pushed myself off the bed and got cleaned up in my tiny bathroom. After I'd fixed my face, I got up and went to the window that Cole had been looking out from, wondering how many miles away he was by now. To my surprise, I could see a flashlight cutting an erratic path through the deep blue evening, heading down through the woods, toward the mosaic clearing. Was it Cole? He couldn't stay human in this weather, not when he'd been shuddering and close to the change before. My father?

I frowned at the enigmatic light, wondering if it meant trouble.

And then I heard the piano. I knew right off that it wasn't my father, who didn't even listen to music, and it had been months since my mother had played. Plus, it was not my mother's delicate, precise playing. It was an unsettling, creeping melody that repeated again and again on the upper keys, the spare tinkering of someone who expected other instruments to fill in the rest.

It was at such odds with how I imagined Cole that I
had
to see him playing. I silently made my way downstairs to the music room and hesitated outside the door, leaning in just enough to see without being seen.

And there he was. Not properly sitting on the bench, but leaning across it on one knee like he hadn't meant to stay that long. The musician's fingers that I'd spotted earlier weren't visible to me from this angle, but I didn't need to see them. All I had to see was his face. Unaware of an audience, lost in the repeated rhythm of the piano riff, lit by the evening, it was like all of Cole's armor had fallen off. This was not the aggressively handsome, cocky guy that I had met a few days ago. This was just a boy getting to know a tune. He looked young and uncertain and endearing, and I felt betrayed that he was somehow getting himself together when I couldn't.

Somehow, he was yet again being honest, sharing another secret, when I didn't have anything I was willing to give in return. For once, I saw
something
in his eyes. I saw that he was feeling again, and that whatever he was feeling was hurting him.

I wasn't ready to hurt.

• SAM •

The way home from Duluth was a collage of red taillights, highway signs suddenly looming out of the darkness only to disappear as quickly as they'd appeared, my voice coming out of the speakers and out of my mouth, Grace's face illuminated in little flashes and flickers by oncoming headlights.

Grace's eyes were half lidded with sleepiness, but I felt like I would never sleep again. I felt like this was the only day left in the world and I needed to be awake for it. I'd already told her about Cole, who he was, but I felt like there was more to say. I was probably annoying Grace, but she was being nice enough to not say anything about it. I said, again, “I
thought
he looked familiar. I just don't understand why Beck would do it.”

Grace pulled her hands inside her sleeves and sealed the ends with her fingers. Her skin looked bluish by the light of the radio's display. “Maybe Beck didn't know who he was. I mean, I only kind of knew who NARKOTIKA was. I only know their one song. The one about breaking faces, or whatever.”

“But he
had
to have an idea. Beck found him in Canada. While Cole was on tour.
On tour.
How long until someone in
Mercy Falls sees him and recognizes him? What if they come take him home and he turns into a wolf? Once he's human for the summer, will he just hide in the house and hope no one recognizes him?”

“Maybe,” Grace said. She dabbed her nose with a tissue, then balled the tissue up and stuffed it in her coat pocket. “Maybe he wants to stay lost and it won't be a problem. I guess you should ask him. Or I could, since you don't like him.”

“I just don't trust him.” I ran my fingers back and forth across the steering wheel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grace lean her head against the car door and sigh. She didn't look like herself.

Instantly, guilt flooded me. She'd worked so hard to make this the perfect day and I was ruining it. “Ah — I'm sorry. I'm being an ingrate. I won't worry about it anymore, okay? It can be tomorrow's problem.”

“Liar.”

“Don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad. I'm just sleepy, and I want you to be happy.”

I took one hand off the wheel to touch her hand where it lay on her lap. Her skin was very hot. “I am happy,” I said, although now I felt worse than before. I was torn between wanting to lift up her hand to see if it smelled like wolf and wanting to leave it there and pretend that it didn't.

“This one is my favorite,” she said softly. I didn't realize what she meant until she clicked back to the beginning of a track as soon as it ended. On the CD, the other Sam, the now-unchangeable one who stayed forever young, sang
I fell for her
in summer, my lovely summer girl
, while another unchangeable Sam sang close harmonies over the first one.

My heart thumped in my chest as headlights striped across the interior of the car before leaving it dark again. I couldn't help but think about the last time I'd sung that song. Not in the studio, today, but the time before that. Sitting in a car as dark as pitch, like this one, my hand tangled in Grace's hair as she drove, right before the windshield exploded and turned the night into a good-bye.

It was supposed to be a happy song. It seemed wrong that it was forever poisoned by that memory, no matter how well things had turned out afterward.

Beside me, Grace turned her face to rest her cheek on the seat. She looked tired and faraway. “Will you fall asleep if I don't entertain you?” she asked, with a vague smile.

“I'm okay,” I said.

Grace smiled at me, and tugged her jacket around her like a blanket. She kissed the air in my direction and closed her eyes. In the background, my voice sang
I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had
.

• SAM •

The house was trashed. When I stepped into the living room, the first thing I saw was Cole with a broom and dustpan — a sight more ludicrous than him turning into a wolf — and then I saw shattered glass and tipped-over furniture behind him.

Grace said “Oh” behind me, in a sort of distressed way, and at the sound of her voice, Cole turned. He had the dignity to look surprised, though not enough to look apologetic.

I didn't know what to say to him. Every time I thought I might eventually work up some empathy and kindness toward him, he started some new fire. Did the rest of the house look like this? Or just every square inch of the living room?

Grace, however, looked at Cole, her hands stuck in her pockets, and said, “Problems?” in a light sort of way. With a smile in her voice.

And to my utter surprise, Cole smiled ruefully back at her, charming and
now
apologetic. “Herd of cats,” he said. “I'm taking care of it.” This last bit was with a glance in my direction, meant for me. Grace gave me a look that clearly said I was
supposed to be nicer to him. I tried to remember if I'd ever been nice to him. I was sure I must've been, at the beginning.

I looked back at Grace. In the brighter light of the kitchen, she looked pale and tired, petal-thin skin showing darkness below. She probably ought to be in bed. She probably ought to be home. I wondered what her parents must be thinking and when they were supposed to return. I asked her, “I'll get the vacuum?” Meaning:
Is it okay if I leave you with him?

Grace nodded firmly. “Good idea.”

• GRACE •

So this was Cole St. Clair. I'd never met a rock star before. I wasn't really disappointed, either. Even holding a broom and dustpan, he
looked
like a rock star, unreal and restless and
unsafe
. But I didn't agree with Sam about Cole's empty eyes. They looked full enough to me. Not that I was the greatest at reading people.

I looked straight at him and said, “So you're Cole.”

“You're Grace,” he said, though I didn't know how he would know.

“Yes,” I said, and picked my way over to one of the living room chairs. I sank into it gratefully. I was beginning to feel like my body had been bludgeoned with rocks from the inside. I looked again at Cole. So this was the guy that Beck had hoped would take Sam's place. He'd obviously had good taste with Sam, so I was willing to give Cole the benefit of the doubt. I glanced at the stairs, to make sure Sam wasn't back yet from getting the vacuum, and said, “So. Is it what you expected?”

• COLE •

I liked Sam's girlfriend before she even opened her mouth, and then even more when she did speak. She wasn't what I'd expected, somehow, out of Sam's girlfriend. She was pretty in an undramatic way, and she had this great voice: very calm and matter-of-fact and distinctive.

I didn't understand her question at first. When I didn't answer right away, she clarified, “Being a wolf?”

I kind of loved that she just came out and said it.

“Better,” I said, admitting the truth before I had time to censor it. She didn't look disgusted, like Isabel had. So I looked straight at her and told her the rest of the truth. “I became a wolf to lose myself, and that's just what I got. All I can think about when I'm a wolf is being with the other wolves. I don't think about the future or the past or who I was. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that moment, and being with the other wolves, and just being a ball of heightened senses. No deadlines. No expectations. It's amazing. It's the best drug ever.”

Grace smiled at me as if I'd given her a present. It was such a nice smile, a knowing, genuine smile, that I thought in that moment that I would do anything to be her friend and to earn that smile again. I remembered what Isabel had said about Grace having been bitten but never shifting. I wondered if Grace was glad about that or if she felt cheated.

And so I asked her, “Do you feel cheated that you don't shift?”

She looked at her hand, which was resting gingerly on her stomach, and then back up at me. “I've always wondered what
it would be like. I've always felt out of place. In between. I've always wanted — I don't know.” She stopped. “Taking that vacuum on a walk, Sam?”

And then Sam was there, hauling an industrial vacuum cleaner into the room. He'd only been gone two seconds, but the room got brighter when they were together, as if they were two elements that became brilliant in proximity. At Sam's clumsy efforts to carry the vacuum, Grace smiled a new smile that I thought only he ever got, and he shot her a withering look full of the sort of subtext you could only get from a lot of conversations whispered after dark.

It made me think about Isabel, back at her house. We didn't have what Sam and Grace had. We weren't even close to having it. I didn't think what we had could get to this, even if you gave it a thousand years.

I was suddenly glad that I'd left Isabel on her bed and then alone at her house. It hurt to let myself remember I was poison to everyone I touched, but for once, it felt good to be self-aware. I couldn't stop myself from exploding, but I could at least learn to contain the fallout.

• GRACE •

I felt bad sitting on the chair while Sam and Cole cleaned. Under normal circumstances, I would have jumped up to help. Cleaning a room that looked this bad was satisfying, because it really looked like you'd accomplished something by the end.

But tonight, I couldn't. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I felt like I'd been fighting something invisible all day and now it was catching up to me. My stomach felt warm and full
under my hand; I imagined blood sloshing around inside it. And my skin was
hot hot hot
.

Across the room, I saw Sam and Cole working in silent concert, Cole crouched with the dustpan while Sam swept up the pieces too large to vacuum. For some reason, I was glad to see them working together. Again, I thought that Beck
must
have seen something in Cole. It couldn't have been a coincidence that he'd brought back another musician. He wouldn't have done something so risky as infecting a famous rocker if he hadn't thought there was a good reason behind it. Maybe he thought that if Sam managed to stay human, he and Cole would be friends.

It would be good for Sam to have a friend if I —

In my head, I saw Cole's face when he'd asked,
Do you feel cheated that you don't shift?

When I was younger, I had imagined being a wolf. Running away with Sam the wolf into a golden wood, far away from my distant parents and the clutter of modern life. And again, when I'd thought I would lose Sam to the woods, I'd dreamed of going with him. Sam had been horrified. But now, finally, Cole had told me the other side of the coin.
All that matters is that moment, and being with the other wolves, and just being a ball of heightened senses.

Yes.

It wouldn't be all bad. There was a payoff. To feel the forest floor under paws, to see and smell everything with brand-new senses. To know what it was like to be part of the pack, part of the wild. If I lost this battle, maybe it wouldn't be so terrible. To live in the woods that I loved, would that be such a great sacrifice?

Irrationally, I thought of the stack of unfinished mysteries on my bedroom shelf. I thought of lying on my bed with my jeans-covered legs tangled in Sam's, him reading his novel while I did my homework. Of riding in his car with the windows rolled down. Of us hand in hand on a college campus. Of an apartment full of our clutter, of a ring cupped in the palm of his hand, of life after school, of life as Grace.

I closed my eyes.

I hurt so much. Everything about me hurt, and there wasn't anything I could do. The promise of the woods was different when it wasn't a choice.

• SAM •

I thought she was tired. I figured it had been a long day. I didn't say anything until Cole noticed.

“She slept through the vacuum cleaner?” Cole asked, as if she were a small child or a dog and this was one of her more endearing habits.

I felt an irrational surge of anxiety, looking at her closed eyes, her slow breaths, her flushed cheeks. Then Grace lifted her head, and my heart started again.

I looked at the clock. Her parents would be getting back soon. We needed to get her home.

“Grace,” I said, because she looked as if she might fall asleep again.

“Mmm?” She was still curled sideways on the armchair, her face resting on the arm.

“When did you say your parents wanted you back by?” I
asked. Grace's eyes darted to me, suddenly awake, and I saw in her expression that she hadn't been honest with me. My chest tightened. “Do they know you're gone?”

Grace looked away, cheeks colored. I'd never seen her look ashamed, and somehow it heightened how unwell she looked. “I should be home before they get back from the show. Midnight.”

“So now,” Cole said.

For a single, helpless, wordless moment, I thought Grace and I both had the same thought: that we didn't want this day to end. That we didn't want to part ways and climb into two cold beds far from each other. But there wasn't any use saying that out loud, so instead I said, “You do look really tired; you probably should get some sleep.” Which was not at all what I wanted to say. I wanted to take her hand and lead her upstairs to my bedroom and whisper,
Stay
.
Just stay.

But then I would be who her father thought I was, wouldn't I?

She sighed. “I don't want to.”

I knelt in front of Grace so that I was eye to eye with her; her cheek was still pressed against the armchair. She looked so young and unguarded; I didn't realize how accustomed I was to her intense expression until it was gone.

“I don't want you to, either,” I said, “But I also don't want you to get in trouble. Are you — okay to drive?”

“I have to be,” Grace said, “I need my car for tomorrow. Oh, right. No school tomorrow; teacher work day. But for the next day.”

She stood up, slowly, uncertainly. I was aware that both
Cole and I were just watching her as she found her keys and held them in her hand as if she wasn't sure what to do with them.

I didn't want her to go, but more than that, I didn't want her to drive.

“I'll drive her car,” Cole said.

I blinked at him.

Cole shrugged. “I'll drive her car and she can ride with you. You can bring me back or …” He shrugged again.

Grace was giving me a look like she really wanted me to say yes, so I said yes. “Thanks,” Grace told Cole.

“Don't mention it.”

I was having a hard time believing Cole's transformation to a nice guy, but as long as he didn't wreck her car, I was happy to have the few extra moments with Grace and the peace of mind that she'd made it home.

So we went home, Cole a lonely figure in the driver's seat of Grace's car behind us, and me with Grace's hand held tightly in my lap. When we got to her parents' house, Cole deftly backed her car into the driveway while Grace leaned over and kissed me. It started off as a chaste kiss and then my mouth was parted and Grace's fingers held my shirt and I wanted to stay, oh God, I wanted to stay —

— and Cole tapped on the window. He was shuddering in the cold wind as I sheepishly rolled down the window.

“You might not want to put your tongue in her mouth; her dad's looking out the window. Also,
you
'd better hurry,” he said, looking at Grace, “because in two seconds, I'm going to need
you
” — now he looked at me — “to pick up my clothes and I don't think you want a parental audience for that.”

Grace's eyes got wide. “They're home?”

Cole jerked his chin toward the other car in the driveway. Grace stared at it, confirming my earlier suspicions about our visit being unapproved. “They said they'd be late. It's always after midnight for this show.”

“I'll come in with you,” I said, though I thought I'd rather hang myself. Cole was looking at me as if he was reading my thoughts.

She shook her head. “No. It'll be easier without you there. I don't want them yelling at you.”

“Grace,” I said.

“No,” she said. “I'm not changing my mind. I can handle it. This needs to happen.”

And that was my life, in a nutshell. Kissing Grace hurriedly good-bye, wishing her luck, letting her go, and then opening my car door to shield Cole's shift from prying neighborhood eyes.

Cole crouched on the asphalt, shaking, looking up at me. “Why's she grounded?”

I glanced at him and then returned my eyes to the house, making sure that no one was watching us. “Because her absentee parents decided they hated me. Probably because I was sleeping in her bed.”

Cole spiked his eyebrows without commenting. He considered. He ducked his head while his shoulders shuddered. “Is it true they left her in a car to cook?”

“Yeah. That moment is a metaphor for their entire relationship.”

“Nice,” Cole said. After a moment, he said, “Why is this taking so long? Maybe I was wrong.”

He already smelled of wolf. I shook my head. “It's because you're talking to me at the same time. Stop fighting it.”

He was crouched like a runner now, his fingers spread on the asphalt, one knee bent, like he was ready to take off. He said, “Last night — I didn't think —”

I stopped him. And I said what I should've said before. “I was nobody when Beck brought me back, Cole. I was so damaged, I couldn't function. I barely ate and I used to scream when I heard running water. I don't remember that at all. I have giant holes in my memory. I'm still damaged, but not as bad as I was. Who am I to question Beck choosing you? Nobody.”