Everneath

Then I remembered the last time I’d let that happen. And how it turned out.

LAST YEAR

April. Two weeks before the Feed.

Jack and I stood in the parking lot of the school, oblivious to the people around us hoisting their bags onto the waiting buses. It was spring break, and the only people at the school were the ones leaving for football and cheerleading camps, and the ones saying good-bye to them.

“It’s two weeks, Jack. I think we’ll survive,” I said.

Jack clenched both of my arms, his fingers digging in almost to the bone. His brother, Will, had shipped off for basic training right after Christmas, and Jack was having separation issues.

“I’m going to need those.” I glanced at my arms.

“I don’t think I should leave you.” He paused. “Especially this week, of all weeks.”

Jack was referring to the ongoing trial of Kevin Reid, the man accused of hitting my mother with his car. The defense was wrapping up, and a verdict would be coming in.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m not even paying attention to it.”

“I know you are.”

I extracted one of his hands and placed it on my cheek, leaning into it. “Two weeks.”

Neither of us noticed somebody approaching. “Okay, lovebirds. The buses are waiting.” Cole appeared beside us. His band had stayed on after Sundance. Apparently they were using a condo near the ski resort for songwriting. I’d run into him a few times since the night at Harry O’s.

“Hey, Cole,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“Max asked me to drop Meredith off.” He tilted his head toward the bus carrying the cheerleading and pep squads. I didn’t see Meredith, but I saw Lacey Greene watching us from one of the windows.

Lacey had spent the week leading up to football camp telling everyone who would listen “What happens at camp stays at camp,” which made it sound like camp consisted of a craps table, tequila-lime shots, and tangled sheets.

I tried not to let it bother me that she would be staying on the same campus as Jack.

“That’s nice of you,” I said.

“It was on the way. I’m making some silk screens for T-shirts at the shop,” Cole said, gesturing across the parking lot toward the GraphX Shop down the street.

“Making your own T-shirts? Don’t you have people for that?” I asked. “Like professionals?”

“Well, I usually travel with an army of professional T-shirt makers, but today I thought I’d go it alone.”

Jack didn’t take his eyes off me as Cole spoke. I wasn’t sure he was even listening, or aware Cole was there.

“What are the screens of?” I asked.

“Elvis Presley as a corpse. You wanna come look?” Cole gave me a grin as if he’d just asked if I wanted to see rainbows being made.

“You had me at ‘corpse.’”

Jack chuckled. “Saying good-bye here. Remember?”

I turned to Jack, rose up on my tiptoes, and kissed his lips lightly. “Two weeks, Jack. It’ll fly by.”

I started to back up, but Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me close. “No you don’t,” he said. “The corpse can wait.”

He gave me a kiss that was not quite appropriate for public view, and I would’ve been embarrassed if I hadn’t lost the ability to think straight. His arms reached around my back, and he pulled me in tight against him so that my feet were barely touching the ground. And things started disappearing around us, just like they did every time Jack kissed me.

He pulled back. “What were you saying about two weeks?”

“That it will feel like forever,” I said, breathless.

“That’s better.” Jack lowered his head so his forehead was touching mine. “Miss you.”

“Miss you too,” I whispered.

Somehow, he finally let me go, and Cole—who had stepped away during our kiss—stood next to me as I watched the bus cough and choke its way up the hill and out of the parking lot. Before it disappeared completely, Cole tugged on my arm.

“Cheer up, Nik. You can help me splash some shirts.” He released a breath of air on my face, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with a strange feeling of loss. I couldn’t explain where it came from. It was as if an electrical pulse had charged the air and penetrated my skin, and I was left with the sense that something was slipping from my fingers, and I couldn’t hold on to it. I clenched my car keys in my pocket, but that wasn’t it. Then I jerked my head back toward the buses, and all I could think about was the way Lacey Greene had been staring at me, and how Jack was on a bus with her. And how she was equating camp to a weekend in Vegas.

“You okay?” Cole asked.

I tried to shake the feeling away. Jack was mine. There was nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I turned to follow him toward GraphX. “You don’t have to feel bad for me. I’m not lonely.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t feel bad for you. You’d be doing me a favor.” As he spoke, he winked at me, and I couldn’t help feeling a tingle.

“Where are your groupies?” I asked, referring to the constant entourage that usually surrounded him.

“They get in the way. Especially when I’m working with paint. Too many cooks, you know.”

“Oh.” I slowed down. “Maybe you’d rather—”

“You’re not a groupie,” he interrupted. He put his hand on my back and urged me forward. That strange feeling of loss wasn’t as bad now.

The inside of the workshop smelled like fresh paint and developing chemicals. Paint spots dotted the floor and most of the walls. Two silk screens were drying on one of the industrial counters. The image on the screen was a haunting portrait of Elvis Presley, not necessarily dead, but not alive, either. The eye sockets were sunken and the cheeks hollow and ashen, the lips drawn back, exposing long teeth. Yet he cradled the microphone like a baby with one hand, and had just finished a strum on his guitar with the other. It was a beautiful rendition caught between life and death, trapped between this world and the next.

I fingered the silk screen carefully.

“Wow,” I whispered. “This is amazing. Where did you find the original?”

“I drew it,” he said offhandedly. He focused on the stack of T-shirts on the other counter, laying them out.

“Cole, you’re messing with me! It’s too…” I just shook my head as he turned to look at me. “No words.”

He took a couple of steps closer to me. “I think that’s the nicest review I’ve ever received.”

And just like that, he was standing too close. I could see the glint of the iron ball on his tongue post, and before I knew it, I was staring at it.

He smiled and I quickly looked away.

“Okay, so, let’s get started,” I said, turning toward the T-shirts on the counter before Cole could see the pink on my cheeks.

We worked together in companionable silence for a while. I appreciated the delicate technique; the routine of the silk-screening process almost resembled an elegant dance.

“What are you going to do with the shirts?” I asked.

“We’re selling them at the concert tonight.”

“The Dead Elvises are playing tonight? Where?” I had only ever heard the band’s CDs, since I never could afford a ticket during the festival.

“The Dead Goat Saloon, appropriately enough. We’re trying out some new material.” He paused as if a thought had just occurred to him. “You should come, Nik.”

“I don’t know.” I was pretty sure my father would not approve.

“You don’t have to be twenty-one.” He must have noticed my skeptical look because he quickly added, “Only for tonight, though, since the band is mostly underage. We have special passes.” His voice had turned persuasive.

I fidgeted for a moment, trying to figure out why I was hesitating. It was spring break, so it’s not like it was a school night or anything.

“Besides, we need help selling our T-shirts.” He picked out one of the smallest ones that had been drying on the counter and held it up to me, playfully assessing the look. “Nik. All you need to do is wear this tonight, and we’ll sell out.”

I glanced down at the shirt and then back up at Cole. “Yeah, I’m sure this is the look you were going for.”

“You can make anything look good,” he said softly.

When I got home, I called Jules and convinced her to go to the concert with me. I still wasn’t sure they’d let us in, until our bus pulled up to the Dead Goat Saloon and we saw a bunch of students from Park City High. Anyone sixteen and older could enter with a special pass. The Dead Elvises packed the house, and the air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat.

Jules and I stayed as close to the stage as possible, and as the concert wore on, I wondered if my hearing would be permanently damaged. But the music soon made me forget any pain. As I danced, I closed my eyes and tried to remember why I had been so sad that morning.

Jules tapped me on my shoulder and leaned in to yell something, but I couldn’t hear her above the throbbing bass. Finally she gave up and pointed toward the back of the place and mouthed the word bathroom. I nodded and turned my attention back to the stage.

I never understood how guitar players could jump up and down while making sure their fingers struck the right frets and picked at the right strings. Cole made it look easy and natural, as if he were surrounded by a cushion of the music he was making; his movements were so graceful. He was at once severe and beautiful, and the more he played, the more I felt surrounded by that cushion as well, as if I could fall and never hit the ground, as long as he was playing.

I closed my eyes and let the music take over, and when I opened them, Cole was watching me. As our eyes met, he didn’t look away, and he didn’t try to hide where his attention was. For some reason I was determined not to look away first, and before I knew it I’d gravitated to the stage. People turned to look at me, as if the momentary bond between us was visible, and I couldn’t take the attention. I finally turned away.

By midnight, I could barely stand upright. I hadn’t had anything to drink, but everything around me still seemed to sway. The band played two encores, and then the music switched over to MP3s.

Jules hadn’t made her way back to me, and I was about to search out the ladies’ room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around.

Cole’s face was pure energy, and he threw his arms around me and lifted me off the ground.

“Whoa, okay, you can put me down now,” I said in between gasps for air. “My head was already spinning.”

He smiled widely. “Sorry. I always feel like this after a set.”

“Like what? Like you have the sudden urge to pick up teenage girls and throw them around?”

He laughed and put me on the ground again. It was obvious Cole was passionate about music, because he couldn’t contain his euphoria. It was contagious.

Behind Cole, the rest of the band was packing their gear. Maxwell fastened the clasps of his guitar case, then jumped off the stage and landed right next to where Cole and I stood.

“Cole, we heading out?” Maxwell said.

“In a minute,” Cole said, and he waved his hand dismissively. Maxwell looked from Cole’s face to mine, and walked away with a strange smile on his lips. Cole didn’t seem to notice. He looked past me. “Where’s Jules? Wasn’t she with you?”

Oh yeah. Jules. I was so caught up with Cole, I’d almost forgotten about her. “I thought she went to the restroom, but she hasn’t come back. I should probably go look for her.”

I started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. “Did you check your phone? Maybe she texted you.”

“Oh, right.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and sure enough, it showed a new text. “I didn’t even feel it.”

“What does it say?” Cole asked.

I squinted as I read the screen again. “She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she got a ride home with Spence Eckhart.”

Cole smiled at me. “Does that mean you’re stranded?”

“No more so than before. We took the bus here.”

“Well, I have a car. Let me drive you home.” He threw one arm around my shoulders and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I’m glad you came.” His breath washed over my neck and my face, and I only had a moment to register the smell of cigarette smoke before my mind inexplicably flashed to Jack. How would I feel if he had his arm around Lacey like Cole had his arm around me? I wondered what he was doing right at this moment, if he was asleep, or if they were out partying somewhere.

Cole put his hand on my back, leading me toward the exit and the parking lot. I ran a few fingers through my frizzy hair, damp with sweat. Lacey’s hair was always perfect.

Why was I thinking about Lacey? I trusted Jack.