13 to Life (21 page)

A shadow fell across the surface of the amber heart. A shape emerged as I focused, crisping its edges as I glanced from Pietr’s face back to the pendant. “Oh,” I said, catching my breath.

Carved deep into the heart was a simple but unmistakable silhouette of a rabbit.

“Well. Isn’t that interesting,” I commented.

I focused on breathing. On thinking.

Pietr gave me a look that nearly stopped my heart.

I wondered if he expected me to say right then and there
that the strange little woman must have known—that we were somehow destined to be together—that we should give up our charade of mere friendship for Sarah’s sake. Just because I wore a netsuke rabbit, my
mom’s
old charm, to the Homecoming Dance and now there was some crazy rabbit carving in a heart—arguably a
wolf’s
heart? I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t even seventeen. How much fresh drama did I need?

“So,” I said, barely skipping a beat, “we need to go over that stuff on canine biology, right?” I pushed between the dumbstruck Rusakovas and landed on the loveseat between Amy and Sarah. They looked at me, questioningly, and I rolled my eyes—the promise it wasn’t important, but I’d tell them later.

The Rusakovas stood frozen in place for a long moment more before they all looked at one another. Catherine murmured, “Pour some tea, Max. I don’t trust my hands.” Mute, Max did as she requested, pouring and passing.

Seeing the delft, cobalt blue and gold onion-dome roofs decorating the teapot, I tried making small talk. “That’s a beautiful teapot, Catherine.”

“It’s Lomonosov porcelain,” she responded crisply. Shutting me right down.

I took a long sip of tea before balancing the cup on my knee and moving my backpack onto my lap.

“Oh, Catherine,” Amy said. “It looks like one of your tea bags burst.” Amy shook her cup to swirl the tea inside.

“We don’t use bags,” Catherine corrected.

I glanced at her. Her expression suddenly changed.

“Is everyone finished with his or her tea?” she asked, sweet once again.

We nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Excellent,” she said, rising. “Alexi, please take Amy’s and
Sarah’s cups, I’ll take mine, and”—she reached out, snagging mine—“yours.”

Max held his out for her, too. “Here.”

“You are on your own,” she snapped at him. “Let’s leave them to study.” Her tone made it clear the words were no simple suggestion. Sharing a conspiratorial look, Alexi and Max followed Catherine from the room.

Pietr’s tea sat untouched on the table.

He still stood in the room’s center, his back to us. I knew he was thinking about what I’d done. I had blatantly dismissed the importance of opening the
matryoshka
—not having a clue as to
why
it was important—and I wondered how long it would take for him to forgive me.

Reaching into my backpack to retrieve my science book and papers, I hoped he
would
forgive me. “ ‘It’s a Dog’s Life,’ ” I announced, reading the worksheet’s title. “People used to say dogs aged seven years for every single year. Although it is important to recognize that canines live at a faster speed than humans, the ratio of seven to one is not completely accurate.”

“Pietr,” Sarah said. “Come, sit down again, please.”

It took a moment, as if he hadn’t immediately heard her, but then he turned and came to sit with us. At Sarah’s feet.

I tried not to notice how obediently he followed her directions, and I simply continued: “Experts have decided that at one year of age a canine is as physically mature as a fifteen-year-old human and at two years a canine is comparable to a twenty-four-year-old. By the time fourteen human years have passed, a canine’s body is equivalent to an eighty-year-old human.”

“Pietr, pay attention,” Sarah scolded. “This may be on a test.”

Pietr stopped playing with his shoelaces and looked up. But certainly not at me. “Go on,” he said.

I did. “Other than the obvious impact aging has on canines physically, what other impact might such rapid growth, development, and age have?”

“Well,” Sarah said, “if we exclude the physical, we’re still left with the mental and emotional, right?”

We nodded agreement.

“So, mentally,” Amy said, “what impact would compounded aging have?”

“Wouldn’t they, like, start forgetting stuff? Perhaps go senile while we still thought they were young?” Sarah attempted.

I nodded supportively. “That sounds good.” I jotted it down. “And emotionally?”

“If they know it’s happening”—Amy toyed with putting her thought into words—“I mean, if they can make the comparison to us, wouldn’t you think they’d feel jealous because of how fast life’s passing them by?”

“
If
they can make that comparison. So”—Sarah looked at each of us for consensus—“jealous?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Pietr asked her.

“I don’t know,” Amy jumped in, reconsidering. “I mean, I’m not jealous of whales and they can live over a hundred years if they aren’t hunted. But I look far better in a bikini.” She winked. “Maybe I’d be all ‘Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse.’ ”

Pietr snorted. “I can’t disagree with you. Live life fiercely,” he added.

Amy said, “Sounds like a good motto to me!”

Looking at the worksheet and textbook, Pietr asked, “Can we close this up for now? Let’s go four-wheeling.”

“Seriously?” Sarah asked. “Four-wheeling?”

Pietr nodded, getting to his feet and closing her book definitively. He shoved it into her backpack just below her copy of
Frankenstein.
“Our property backs up against an old wood lot. We get to ride because the owners think it discourages trespassers.”

“I’m not”—Amy looked at Sarah and me—“
we’re
not dressed for that.”

I looked at her outfit. “Sorry,” I said with a smile, “can’t you wash those clothes, Amy?” I understood her hesitancy. We’d all knew about accidents on ATVs and none of the three of us had ridden before. I’d heard plenty of four-wheelers zip and hum around the edges of our farm. They were loud, obnoxious-sounding, and always looked dirty. So riding one sounded much more interesting than continuing biology.

Pietr smiled, watching us bicker. “You can slip into the family mud suits if you want,” he suggested.

“Mud suits,” Amy said with a groan. “Jessie, this really doesn’t sound like—”

Appearing in the doorway, Max cleared his throat. He already had helmets under both arms and looked to be suited up. “Wanna go for a ride with me?” he asked, looking at Amy.

I saw her blink a few times, but she stopped protesting and looked at me for help. I was not the help she was hoping for. Riding ATVs was far from what I’d been expecting as part of this study date. But it was an opportunity I wasn’t about to miss. The rest of the science assignment could wait.

“Let’s suit up,” I said, grabbing her by the waist.

“Can I ride with you?” Sarah asked Pietr. The question drained the lightheartedness right out of him.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said, taking her hand and striding past me.

Amy looked at me, giving a single
I can’t get over this
blink of disbelief.

I shrugged.
What else could I do?

I’d pushed Pietr at Sarah so much he seemed to have finally relented and accepted that his place was with her.

I was getting exactly what I wanted.

“Wait,” I said. “Okay, Pietr with Sarah, and Amy with Max—I’ve never driven one of these, either. Who’s driving me?”

Catherine hopped into my line of sight, much cheerier than when she stole away my teacup. “I’ll take you. I’m a far better driver than
any
of the boys,” she added, eyes glittering in challenge. Max growled a few words as Catherine handed us each a worn and speckled jumpsuit. They felt a little awkward, none an exact fit, but I wouldn’t have to explain anything to Dad if my clothes weren’t muddy at all.

Out the back of the house and down the porch’s steps and I wondered how Dad’d feel about me doing something as dangerous as four-wheeling. I tried not to dwell on his fears. Besides, seeing the way the landscape suddenly dropped away at the Rusakovas’ backyard, I had fears of my own.

We were guided to the front of a three-car garage and the Rusakovas started their ATVs, pulling them up in front of us. The air hummed and vibrated with the sound of their engines. They were different from what I’d imagined. Chrome made their metal guts gleam, and I thought they looked like alien insects with their glossy green, blue, and red bodies.

“Hop on!” Catherine shouted, and I snugged a helmet on and settled behind her as we jockeyed for position to be first down the hill. “Now
hold
on!” She laughed. I barely got my arms around her waist before we tore off, ahead of the boys, screaming down the trails, rocketing down the slope.

I had never associated the word
nimble
with an ATV until I was riding behind Catherine. She handled every lump and curve with such a sense of assuredness that I knew she’d driven this path a million times, even though they’d been in
town only a short while. She was reckless—but man, could she drive!

She brought us to a slithering stop at the slope’s bottom so we could watch the boys’ descent. She reduced the engine’s roar to a purr and turned to look at me. “Why aren’t
you
dating Pietr?” she asked.

It felt like I had to pull my teeth out of the back of my mouth to answer. “He’s dating Sarah,” I replied, loud enough for her to hear over the engine’s idling. I was completely aware of how fast the other two pairs of riders approached.

“He likes you,” she said in a way that told me she knew that I already knew.

“I have to do what’s right for Sarah,” I tried to explain, but her eyes cut into my own. It was eerie. She and Pietr shared the same haunting and haunted eyes. She pinned me down with them.

“And when will you do what’s right for
you and Pietr
?” Catherine asked.

“I just have to do whatever I can for Sarah. If it means letting her date Pietr—”

“Sacrifice is only noble to a point,” Catherine stated. “Eventually sacrifice equates to lost opportunity.” She adjusted her helmet. “Besides. I’ve always thought martyrs make for very dangerous friends. Who can possibly guess when their desire for self-sacrifice will also endanger those around them?”

The other two ATVs pulled up, and Pietr shouted, “What are you two waiting for?”

Catherine laughed and, yelling, “Not
you
!” she launched us ahead of them again—playing a muddy, jolting game of cat and mouse.

I loved every breathless second of it. My spine became rubber during the ride and when Catherine and the boys finally
pulled up together I exhaled in relief. I had been watching over her shoulder as we went and I toyed with the idea of asking her to let me drive us back.

Following Catherine’s example, I pulled my helmet off. Pietr stared at me with far more interest than he had even meeting me the first time. I tried to excuse the shiver sliding down my spine with the sudden surge of autumn wind, but I knew it was because of the way he watched me. Maybe I had mud on my face (I had it nearly everywhere else). I wiped it with a gloved hand.

That was when I really felt mud streak across my forehead. I looked down at my gloves, realizing I’d just spread it from my thumb. Pietr gave me his most uneven smile but glanced away as soon as I looked pointedly in his direction.

“Shall we head back?” Catherine looked toward the slope.

“Let’s take a break,” Max suggested, pulling a packet out of his jacket. “Jerky?” he offered.

Amy’s eyes twinkled dangerously and I knew she barely bit back a clever quip.

The Rusakovas reacted to Max’s suggestion ravenously.
We
were still trying to work our stomachs out of our throats from the jostling ride.

I focused on encouraging my legs to work and got off the ATV. Amy and Sarah did the same and we walked toward one another, knees filled with jelly. The Rusakovas watched us, their eyes hot on my back. “What a day!” I said loudly to the girls.

Amy took the hint immediately. “Yeah, too bad we have to head back home so soon.”

Sarah nodded, watching me. Weighing me before she smiled in her happy-Sarah way. Still, something was only thinly veiled in her eyes. Only slightly hidden in her willing agreement to follow my coded suggestion.

Pietr watched the whole exchange. I felt his disapproval
and frustration as if he were standing beside me. “I’m going on a quick run,” he said, voice tight.

I turned to stop him—to point out we needed all three of them to get us back to the house—but the look he gave me was full of heartbreak. I had been a constant disappointment to him today. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to race away when I was the one calling a halt to the day’s activities.

“Pietr—” Catherine called, but he’d already turned his ATV around and raced away.

She looked at me apologetically. “He’s difficult sometimes. Moody.” She ran her hand through her hair, shaking tangles out. “They used to believe twins had severed souls, you know?”

I shook my head.

“I wonder if sometimes they weren’t correct. I’m so often happy, he’s so often grim.” She shrugged.

We heard the roar of Pietr’s motor grow dimmer, weaker—more distant.

I tensed.

“He’s rounding the far end of the trail,” Catherine narrated, her eyes blank as she listened. “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As she predicted, the noise grew, strengthening again.

“He’s a bit of a pessimist. But I guess he has reasons to be.” Her glance shifted from me to Sarah and back again. “Life is complicated,
da
?”

Even Amy agreed. Heartily.

We could hear the clean growl of his ATV’s engine as he started back toward us, we saw both the ATV and him grow larger as they approached. He focused on the trail, his ATV hugging the curves and rocketing up the bulges and jumps so he could catch some air before smacking back down to earth. It wasn’t a horse—just horsepower—but I totally respected the skill with which he rode.

And then he looked up, took his eyes off the path to stare at me as the engine whined. I screamed, “Pietr!” But it was too late. The ATV vaulted into the air. There was a sickening crack and crunch as his helmeted head hit a low-hanging tree branch and he was swiped off the ATV and hurled to the unforgiving ground with a
slap
!