Rippler (12 page)

“Dear God, let him have the sense to ripple this time,”
I whispered as I backed away from the window. A cat hissed and another clawed the back of my left leg. I kept silent, lips pulled thin and tight from the sudden, sharp pain. I had no light now that the police car had backed away. That had been Will’s goal, of course. He’d stayed visible to lead the cops away from me. The stupid idiot.

A look out the window revealed a handful of onlookers milling in the alley, pointing to the hole in the wall. I drew back into the shadows, amidst anxious felines. I heard a door open, the back entrance to Gwyn’s home. Gwyn and her mom were arguing.

“You called the police, Ma, let them do their job.” That was Gwyn’s voice.

“Las Abs’ finest aren’t going to take care of my kids.” Bridget’s voice, referring to her feline “children.” “Run grab me the kitty Xanax. Woody Allen is going to need one.”

What if “Woody Allen” was in this kennel? So. Not. Good.

Gwyn unlocked a storage door under the stairwell. She fumbled inside and called out,

“How many?”

“He doesn’t look good. Bring me two.”

“Where are you?” Gwyn again.

“I’m in apartment one. Honestly, Gwyn, it’s not like I move the cats around.”

I must be in “five,” since this was the fifth from the left.

“Gwyn, check on everyone in number two, will you? See how Jet Li’s doing.”

But Gwyn apparently had her own ideas. I heard her storming towards me and I froze.

“Do you mind?” She sounded ticked. “The cats are totally freaked, and having all of you making noise out here isn’t helping.”

She was speaking to the group in the alley.

“Here, someone dropped this camera,” said one voice as the others receded.

Will’s camera! And me the opposite of chillaxed. I thought with envy of Will’s easy control of his talent.

And I had an idea.

“Don’t over-exert yourself, Gwyn.” Bridget’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I’ll take a look at Jet Li.”

“Chill, Ma. I was kicking everyone out of the alley.”

I tried to focus on the pull of Will’s arm, strong and comforting as the wall had exploded around me minutes ago.

“Oh.” Bridget’s voice, repentant. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

I recalled the warmth of his touch, remembered the exact spot where his fingers pressed into my skin.

“I’m checking number three,” Gwyn said.

I thought how those fingers would feel tracing my jaw line, my lips.

“Gwyn! Rufus isn’t home,” said Bridget, opening number four.

I remembered Will’s arms pulling me to safety from Illilouette Creek. I could almost feel it.

“You can’t let him wander at night.” Bridget, a zillion miles away.

“Like I’m the boss of him.” Gwyn, muttering.

Warm and safe in Will’s arms, I felt myself slip into serene invisibility.

Gwyn opened the door to kennel five, my kennel. I straightened up and passed through the cat house wall as cats renewed their strange guttural moans. The wall was scent-tainted with cats marking their territory. No way was I
ever
passing through these walls again. I’d let the police haul me off in hand-cuffs first.

I glided silently back to the park, quiet as the nocturnal creatures I passed. Twice, dogs followed my progress with bright eyes; one barked. When I reached the car, it was empty and my pulse picked up speed. Where was Will? I rippled solid, tried the door. It opened and I climbed in.

Will rippled solid in the driver’s seat, and I let out a squeak.

We backed out of the parking lot. “You’ve got nine minutes,” he said. “Good timing!”

He remembered my curfew.

It hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“You look like you’re freezing,” he said, as we pulled onto Main, creating a breeze in the open-topped Jeep. “Here.” He tossed me his hoodie, warm and soft and smelling like Will.

“Someone found your camera,” I said. “I must have dropped it when I ran to the cat

house. I’m really sorry.”

“No big deal.”

“Gwyn will look at the pictures. She’s going to know it’s either yours or Mickie’s. You could end up in trouble.”

“I’ll say I lost it. No worries.”

We turned off Main onto the old highway that both our homes sat on.

And suddenly I was giggling. I’d walked through a wall!

“Hey Will—I walked through a freaking rock wall tonight!”

He laughed—a deep, throaty guffaw.

“I’m like, a
rock-star.
”

“You did
not
just say that, man.”

I giggled again and Will laughed along with me.

I took a deep breath as we picked up speed. I threw my head back, raised my arms and hollered to the ink-black sky, “I’M A ROCK STAR! WAAAAA-HOOOOO!”

I slept great, the opposite of what I’d expected after a harrowing evening with a boy I was now officially obsessing over. I showered and dressed, taking the stairs two at a time on my way to breakfast. That’s when I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. A large, purplish bruise bloomed to the side of my chin. I pushed on it. Bad idea. I winced.

“Hey, Sylvia, do you have some cover-up I can borrow?” I pointed to the ugly bruise.

“That looks awful,” she said. Something in her voice made my dad look up from his

paper. “How’d it happen?” She walked to her desk and came back rummaging through her purse.

“I walked into a wall.”
And out the other side
.

I took the cover-stick from Sylvia and walked to the mirror hanging over the fireplace at the far end of our combination kitchen and family room. While I applied cover-up, I saw my dad, in the mirror, staring pointedly at Sylvia—non-verbals flying back and forth between them.

“You were out with the Baker kid.” Dad said it like an accusation.

“Will,” I replied. “From cross country.”

My dad’s brows pulled together. “Did he hit you?”

I stared in shock.

Sylvia whispered, “Dave!”

“Answer me, Samantha. Did he hit you?”

I looked my dad straight in the eyes. “Of course not,” I replied, my voice icy.

“He’s not that kind of boy,” said Sylvia. I silently blessed her for coming to Will’s defense.

“I hear his dad was.”

“Will’s
not
like his dad,” I said.

“You’re not trying to cover for him, are you Sam?”

“Dad, if I
were
trying to cover for him, do you seriously think I’d come down here and show this to you?” I pointed to the bruise.

Sylvia passed me a bowl of oatmeal, loaded with brown sugar, cream and syllaberries.

“I’m going to my room to eat,” I said.

I could hear Sylvia’s voice as I thumped up the stairs. “Dave, if anyone knows the signs to look for, it’s me. You know that.”

I didn’t want to hear his response. I slammed the door—my response. But the ducting relayed Sylvia’s calm, sensible tones.

“Believe me: Sam coming down here asking for cover-up for that bruise is proof that she’s not someone who would hide if there were anything
to
hide.”

True enough, I realized. If a boy hit me, I wouldn’t keep quiet about it. Of course, I’d also kick the crap out of him, thanks to the self-defense lessons Syl made me take three years ago: “
A woman needs to know how to deliver a good kick to the cojones.”

“I want to keep her safe,” Dad said.

“
You
can’t always do that. You have to trust her.”

My dad sighed heavily and I began shoveling mouthfuls of oatmeal. Will would be by in less than five minutes.

I heard his knock at 6:40 and I scampered down the stairs to get there first. “I’m leaving,”

I hollered, slamming the door behind me.

“Morning,” Will said. We took off on our bikes. “I’ve been trying to figure something out. Why on earth would your ponytail stick straight out from your head?”

“My ponytail?”

“Yeah, when you rippled back and your hair displaced all that rock. Your hair was

sticking out straight.”

“I’d been spinning in circles. Guess I should be still when I ripple solid.”

“You think?” he asked laughing. “So how’d you get away, without the camera to help

you ripple?”

I flushed, grabbed my water-tube and took a long pull, giving me time to think before answering. I so wasn’t going to tell him the truth. If I hinted to Will how I felt, and he didn’t feel the same way? Instant awkward. “I used a mental image instead.”

“Good thinking.” Will’s dark eyes caught mine and he lowered his voice. “I really hated leaving you there. But I figured you had my camera. I was debating coming to find you, but I worried we’d cross paths and miss each other. Man, I was glad to see you ripple back!”

I turned back to face the road, but I was smiling.

“Were you scared?” Will asked.

“Terrified! Bridget and Gwyn were going from room to room in the cat kennels. I barely got away.”

“So, not only did you ripple using a visual image, you did it scared? Those are good signs of control, Sam.”

My smile grew to a grin as we rounded onto Main Street.

“Plus, it shows you think well under pressure.”

You have no idea,
I thought. “What about you? Were you worried? I mean, the police have a description of you, don’t they?”

He laughed. “Adult male, approximately five-foot-nine, a hundred-thirty pounds, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, hood worn up. So they were looking for someone shorter and smaller than me. Plus my hoodie’s grey. Anyways, I’d have told the truth. That I heard what sounded like a shot and took off scared.”

“Thanks for taking them off my trail.”

“No worries. I’m glad it worked. And we still need to go out again, another night, and try the plate glass at the cafeteria. Sometime when you can get clearance for a later curfew.”

Yeah. That’ll happen.
I felt bitter, remembering my dad’s suspicions. The track loomed ahead, less than a block away.

“If you want to, I mean. I just think you’d like glass. I guess you could try it on your own, though. You’ve got that sliding glass door.” His tone was uncertain.

He’d mistaken my silence for reluctance. “No, no,” I said. “Together would be much

better.” I looked over and smiled.

We rode our bikes across the school parking lot towards the track and veered to where Gwyn was stretching.

“Hey, Gwyn,” I called.

“Did you guys hear about the major drama last night?” she asked.

I tried to look ignorant, but she wasn’t waiting for a response. “Someone fired a shotgun at our building right after 11:00. I figured they were trying to break in and steal the Cat Jar money, but Ma says anyone breaking in would have shot the door lock instead, and that does seem more likely. So maybe someone was shooting at the cats.”

Guess she didn’t see the
Mythbusters
episode where they prove you can’t shoot doors open. But all I said was, “Hmmmm.”

“I
know,
” she said, as if I’d just agreed with everything. She continued on with a description of the suspect and ended with, “Whoever it was, they stole your camera, Will. I have it at home. Did you know it was missing?” Her eyes were narrowed: was she trying to trip Will up?

“Yeah,” Will said, cool and smooth. “I’m glad you found it.”

I bent down to retie my shoe. I wasn’t feeling as comfortable as he was.

Gwyn tapped at the back of my leg. “You trying to make friendly with a mean cat?” she asked.

I looked at the scratch marks from last night. “You know me,” I said. “Cats just love me.”

She studied my face and then changed subjects. “I told Coach I wanted to run with you two, so go easy on me, okay?”

I rolled the enchanting sound of those simple words, “you two,” around in my mind as we got through our warm-up laps. Then Coach released us to the 4K.

“You’re in charge of the pace,” Will said to Gwyn as we took off.

I’d been running with Will for so long that I’d forgotten the rhythm of Gwyn’s light tread

—five steps for every four that Will and I landed. I vowed to be a better friend to her starting today.

We hit the light on Main Street green and crossed to run past Las ABC. Bridget waved. I could see people evaluating the damage to the rock wall. My stomach clenched. They were going to have to pay for that damage and it was my fault.

“Did you see that old Chinese guy?” Gwyn asked. “Down the alley?”

“Yes,” I said, miserable.

Will nodded.

“His great grand-dad built our building. A century and a half ago. Ma’s loving his

stories.” Gwyn’s eyes rolled. “She’s all about community.”

“And cats,” Will said.

Gwyn laughed. “Yeah. Hey, that reminds me. Ma says to please beg you to gold-pan, for the fundraiser next weekend.”

I’d forgotten all about the event. And now, knowing about my tendency to
vanish
while gazing at peaceful waters, I knew I couldn’t consider gold-panning.

My “uh,” overlapped with Will’s “sure.” Was he covering for me? Offering to go so I wouldn’t have to? I stared at him, confused.

“It’s Labor Day, right?” Will asked.

“Yeah. We have it off, school and cross-country,” Gwyn said.

“It sure sounds ‘relaxing,’” I said, as a hint to Will in case he’d forgotten that gold-panning occurred in a
creek
.

Will caught my eye, winked. “You can handle a little relaxation, right Sam? I’ll be right there to make sure you don’t drift off or anything.”

“It’s not
that
relaxing,” said Gwyn. “The water’s freezing, for one thing. Honestly, it sounds like hard work.”

“What do you say, Sam? You up for some hard work?” Will asked.

“I guess,” I said. I seriously wanted to kick Will.

Half an hour later, we were on our second trip around the 4K, this time minus Gwyn.

“Okay, seriously, what was the ‘let’s go gold-panning’ all about?”

“Sam, we blew a hole in her kitchen wall. It’s like the least we can do for Gwyn’s mom.”

He looked at me. “Don’t you think?”

“What part of ‘me plus water equals ripple’ are you not getting?”

“You can do it,” he said. “Just keep practicing.”

I snorted. “What would your sister recommend?”