Dream Smashers (11 page)

“Really? Are you sure you’re feeling up to
it?”

“Psssh. Totally.” She rolls her eyes. “I
know! We can go to the park!”

“Which one?”

“The one over by Washington High. Do you know
where it is?”

“Yep. Sure do.” Evan takes off down the road,
anticipating an evening of child’s play on swings and maybe even a
trip down the slide.

***

“Hurry Evan. Hurry up!” Autumn runs toward
the swings. He struggles to get out of the car fast enough,
tripping through the seat belt.

“Wait up,” Evan calls after her, but she’s
already diving into a swing face first.

“Woo hoo!” She cries and flies like Superman
on the swing. “Come on Evan. Come push me.”

He jogs over to the swings. She sits on her
bottom, gripping the chains, and up she goes. He pushes her higher
and higher and higher.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This is what carefree must feel like, soaring
through the air, up and up. “Higher, Evan, push me higher.” His
touch is gentle, but strong on my back.

He laughs. “If you go any higher you’ll hit
an airplane.”

Yes. Push me higher, as high as it will go.
Don’t stop. I don’t need a fancy, old car. I don’t even need a list
of rules. What I have right now is all I need to be carefree.

The cold air whips through my hair, the
moisture from the fog clings to my clothes, but I don’t care. “I
love this. You should totally try it.” I drag my feet in the bark
to slow down. “Here, you try it.”

“How about we swing together?” He sits on the
swing next to me and pumps his legs. “I bet I can get higher.”

“That’s a bet you’ll lose.” I pump my legs as
hard as I can, but he’s ahead of me. He goes forward as I go
back—back and forth and back and forth.

“Are you having fun yet?” I ask.

He watches me as I pass him. “This was a
great idea. I haven’t been on swings in a long time.”

“Me either. Why do you think that is? It’s
crazy that we ever stopped swinging. Everyone should have a swing
set in their yard. It should be mandatory that everyone swings once
a day.”

Evan says, “Do you know first aid?”

“Um, no. Why?”

“Oh well.” He gets as high as he can go and
for a split second the swing stalls. He jumps, flaying his hands
above his head. I watch, mouth agape, stopped heart, as he falls to
the ground in slow motion. He lands, not on his feet, but laughing
and rolling around in the bark chips.

“Are you okay?” I giggle.

Springing from the ground, he shouts, “Yes!”
and takes a bow.

“I wanna try!” I’m scared, but I’m not. I
pump my legs hard again. Up and up and up I go. Please don’t let me
fall on my face. Just as I peak at the highest point, I let go and
leap. The world doesn’t slow down like it did when Evan did it. It
speeds up and before I know it, I’m on the ground and somehow in
his arms.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

She’s light as air. Evan will never let her
fall. Holding her, he swings her about. Round and round they go.
She laughs. He laughs.

“This is crazy. I’m totally dizzy,” she
cries.

They stop.

“I can’t believe you caught me. I was totally
ready to hit the ground face first.”

“If I didn’t get in your way, I’m sure you
would have.” Evan sets her down.

She dashes for the merry-go-round. “Come on.
Since you’re so keen on spinning, I’ll take you for one now.”

“I thought you were dizzy.” He shouts and
runs full speed to catch up with her.

“I am. But you’re not. Wow, you’re uber fast.
Weren’t you just way back there by the swings?”

“Yep. Sure was.”

“Ah, that’s right, you run. Well, I’m
impressed Mr. Speed Angel.” She grabs the cold bar and spins the
merry-go-round, then hops on and lies supine on the cold metal
base. Evan pushes it gently and steps on, sitting next to her.

“Look.” She points up to the sky. “The clouds
are breaking up and you can totally see the stars.”

He sprawls out from under the handle bars,
feeling the ice-metal through his jacket. Thousands of stars
twinkle through the torn clouds. “When we were younger, my parents
sent us to church camp every summer. We sometimes dragged our
sleeping bags out of the cabins to sleep under the stars. I’d never
seen so many in my life. It was like—like we were discovering
something new that no one in the world had ever seen.” He turns to
his side to look at her. “Have you ever been camping out in the
woods?”

“Not real camping, but me and Rainy used to
sleep in the backyard with our sleeping bags in the summer when we
were younger.” She laughs under her breath. “Gramps would build us
a campfire and we’d roast marshmallows. It was fun, but probably
not as fun as out in the woods.”

“I think you’d love real camping.” Maybe
he’ll take her sometime. He didn’t dare be so bold yet to say
something like that though.

The light from the street lamp oozes into the
park, allowing some visibility, but not much. Autumn gazes straight
up into the sky as fog rolls over them. She doesn’t move.

“Isn’t fog funny?” she asks.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s just strange. One minute it’s over
there and the next it’s totally on top of you. You know? And it’s
water in the air, and it’s blinding. Real water is clear, but fog
is—well, foggy.”

He doesn’t want to burst her bubble by
explaining the science behind fog, so he won’t. It does seem
mystical when you don’t know the reasons for it. Instead, he jumps
off the whirling piece of steel and gives it another push before
hopping back on.

The faint sound of metal brushing against
metal makes for a backdrop against the silence.

He watches her watching the sky. Every few
seconds the fog opens up for a moment and he sees her more clearly.
Mostly, she’s a shadow penetrating the air.

“There’s something I need to tell you before
you meet my parents,” Evan says.

Autumn sits up. “What is it?”

“Well, not both my parents, just my mom.
She…” He pauses to regain some of the nerves that must have just
run away without warning him. “She thinks I’m too young to have a
girlfriend and might not be the nicest person in the world toward
you.” There he said it, really fast, but it’s out in the open and
now he can hold his breath again.

Autumn laughs and then bites her lip, seeming
uneasy. “How rude is that?” She picks up a bark chip and traces the
designs punched into the metal she sits on. “So, like, how mean
will she be to your, uh,
girlfriend
?”

Evan stuffs his hands into his jeans. Now
he’s in the hot seat. He called her his girlfriend, but he probably
shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. The merry-go-round squeaks to
a stop. There’s nothing he can do now, it’s out in the open. Just
have to go with it. “She’s not going to hurt you or anything, just
maybe ignore you and pretend you’re not there.” He jumps off and
gives the twirling beast another spin.

“That’s it?” She tosses the bark. “As long as
she doesn’t yell at me or spit at me or shoot me, I think I can
handle her ignoring me.”

Evan breathes. Maybe she doesn’t mind him
calling her his girlfriend. “Don’t take it personally. The more she
ignores you, the more she thinks I like you.” Whew. That wasn’t so
bad. He sits cross-legged in front of Autumn. His knees leave a
half-inch of air in front of hers.

She blushes and looks away, smiling. Then,
her smile vanishes. “How are you always so free?”

Evan shrugs. “What do you mean?”

She scoots another half an inch back. “You
always seem so happy and without worry. Like, like you have no
cares in the world to weigh you down. I’m not sure exactly how to
explain it, but every time I see you, you just seem so—so,
carefree.”

Evan takes a moment before answering this
one. He searches for a simple answer to her complicated question.
It needs to sound easy—well, it is easy. “I have faith. That’s the
reason I seem carefree. But, don’t get me wrong, because I do care.
I care a lot.”

She’s quiet.

He stands and gives another spin. This time
he sits on the handle bars.

She says, “Faith? You mean your
religion?”

“I mean I have faith in God, in Jesus. I have
given my worries and burdens over to Jesus. He takes them from me
and deep down I know everything will be okay—”

“What? You give your worries to Jesus? That
totally doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“How can you possibly just give your worries
away? If I worry about someone, like Grams or Rainy or even
Jacinda, it’s because I care for them. I care what might happen to
them—”

“Yes, of course you do. I understand. What
good has worry ever gotten, though? Has it helped your Grams any?
Has worrying about your mom made her life any easier—or yours?”

The fog thins enough to see her face. Her
eyebrows furrow, like she’s thinking.

“Well, no. I guess worrying hasn’t helped.
But, how do you stop worrying?”

“You know the story about Jesus, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. He died for our sins and
stuff.”

“That’s exactly right. Jesus died for us. He
wiped our slate clean of all sin, but only if we accept him into
our lives and hearts. Once you do this, surrender yourself to him,
you are saved.”

Autumn’s face puckers. She must be thinking
again. Evan jumps off the merry-go-round and gives it another
whirl, hoping he didn’t just kill all chances with her.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Uncomfortable. But interesting. I still don’t
get it though, not one bit. This can’t be right. It sounds too
simple.

“Actually, I’m getting a bit dizzy,” I say.
Girlfriend, evil mom, burdens, Jesus. All this thinking along with
the whirling is giving me a headache. “Do you mind if we go home
now? I’m tired.”

“Oh, of course.” He holds onto a handle to
stop the merry-go-round. “I hope I didn’t scare you or anything.
It’s just that I get excited when talking about our savior.”

Savior. Now my head definitely hurts. “No.
I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and a lot has happened.”

He holds his hand out to help me off the
ride. The strange fog has disappeared, exposing the sky above.
Clouds glide across the canvass revealing the stars and then
covering them again.

The drive home almost puts me to sleep. The
purr of the engine calms. We pull up to my house. Evan jumps out to
open my door, but I’m faster.

“So, did tonight scare you off? I mean, do
you want to help again on Wednesday?” He wrings his hands
together.

“Sure, I’ll help out. It wasn’t that bad
until Jacinda showed up. She won’t show up again this week, will
she?” Not that it matters. I don’t care about her anyway. Her
stupid episode is totally ancient history—sorta.

“I don’t think that I’ve seen her there
before. So, you’re probably right.” He steps forward and gives me a
hug. Warm, caring, making me want to hold on to him for years. He
steps back too soon, his face a little pink. No kiss. “I’m glad you
came tonight.”

“Me too. Sorry about what happened and
all.”

“There’s no reason for you to be sorry.” He
smiles. “Well, I’ll swing by on Wednesday around three then?”

“Sounds great.” I can’t believe he didn’t
kiss me. Maybe he doesn’t see me as a girlfriend after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tuesday, October 6
^th

Jacinda sits up. The bed squeaks. It’s
fuckin’ cold, dark, and the rain pounds something fierce on
whatever hella roof is above her head.

Black, not even a glimmer of light to let her
know where she’s crashed. She flops back down and wraps the
scratchy blanket even tighter around her body. Her stomach’s on a
fuckin’ roller coaster of its own. She’s had worse. She can take
it. Bring it. She can take whatever shit life throws at her.

The faint smell of bleach in the air burns
Jacinda’s damn nostrils. There’s only one place that reeks of
bleach—well, two, but there ain’t no way she’d be at rehab on her
own. Unless…nah, this ain’t rehab. There’d be screaming and shit or
something, and bars on a window. Maybe there is. She can’t see.

She must be at the Share Home. Last time she
slept there was about a month ago. It smelled clean like this. When
the sun comes up she’ll get a shower and some good grub. They
always got good food at the Share Home.

She doesn’t know what the fuck happened last
night or even how she got here. A big guy. Yeah. Fuckin’ fine big
guy. Wonder if he’s single. He dropped her on the bed and told her
to sleep it off, or some shit like that.

Something happened before that though.
Autumn. Her eyes, so sad. Her face—Oh God. That little brat. Still,
maybe Ma’s right. Maybe she doesn’t deserve the shit she’s been
dealt. Then again, it’s not like she’s living on the street.

The gentle ride turns shaky and Jacinda’s
stomach spasms. Up and out. She manages to lean over the bed so not
to soil it, and soaks the floor instead. It splatters. Must be a
concrete floor. Good for them. Smart people at the Share Home.

She sits up. The blackness spins, round and
round and round. She’s gotta get outta here. Slipping through puke,
she feels her way to a wall and then to a door. Quietly, she opens
it, letting in a flood of light that blinds her. The stench of
bacon turns her stomach further and a few steps later she’s out the
front door and in the fuckin’ rain.

The cold air feels good; the rain cleanses.
She kinks her head back, face up to the sky. Cold turns into
freezing but she don’t fuckin’ care. She’s nobody. Nothing to
nobody no more. Pops is gone, stupid Pastor Bob’s gone, well, he
was only around to fuck so he was always gone or maybe never here
at all. Ma’s never gonna love her no more. Not after all the shit
she put her through. And the little brat, well, she never loved
Jacinda in the first place.