Friction Read online

  * * *

  “Storm’s coming,” I hear Simon say from somewhere behind the darkness, and when I open my eyes, the air is bluish, with long shadows slinking out from the trees and from Sophie and Viv, who are standing up and stretching.

  “What time is it?” Stacy asks.

  “No time in the country,” Tim and Simon answer together. I sit up, feeling pieces of dirt and grass fall from my hair and shoulders. My cheek still hurts, but not as bad as before. Stacy’s shaking out her moppy topknot.

  “Were we all sleeping?” I ask.

  Simon nods. “Like babies,” he says. Then he starts to jog away. “Ready?”

  “For what?” Danny yells. “Jeez. Where are you going?”

  “Better hurry up,” Simon yells back, and he’s gone.

  Tim’s the first one to get it. He grabs my arm and runs. “Come on!”

  We’re running down the mountain. We’re flying down the mountain. Simon’s not waiting, and he’s not taking any trail, and that means if we stumble or fall, we’ll be lost and that’s it. My legs are racing, rolling, and I feel like a deer—graceful and certain—and the tilted Earth is like a magnet, pulling and pulling me down, and I change from a deer to a marble on a slide, moving faster and faster, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, and I can’t see Simon at all, and I can barely see Tim, and I think the closest person behind me is Danny, but I can hardly even hear him. What I hear are my feet pounding on the ground, and the blood pounding in my ears, and the trees whipping past, and the only other sound is someone laughing, and that someone is me.

  And it goes like that, on and on and on, until finally I see Tim running on flat grass, running and then slowing and falling in a heap next to Simon. And then I’m out of the woods, off the mountain’s side, slowing and slowing and slowing, until my legs don’t know what to expect, and they quit, pulling me into another heap next to Simon and Tim. Then the others burst out of the trees, and they stumble and fall and roll, like tumbleweed whirling in a ghost town, and they’re laughing and laughing. And then Simon leans over to me and Tim, after we’ve all caught our breath, and says, “Do you remember Andrew?” We do, and I know Simon’s passed on what Andrew gave him a long time ago. Feeling alive. Exhilaration.

  10

  THE FIRE’S ALREADY blazing when we get back to the campsite. I’m so hungry, just the cooling air makes my mouth water.

  “Took you long enough,” Sebastian goes when we show up, one by one, to poke at the tinfoiled hamburgers baking in hot ash.

  “Yeah,” Marie says. “Where were you guys?” It’s getting gustier by the second, and the flames jump and cough with the wind. Marie’s bundled in this green parka with fur around the collar. She’s all zipped tight around the chin. She looks really warm.

  “We hiked to the top,” Viv tells her. His brown skin glows the color of tree sap now, near the fire.

  “Then we had to book down because there’s a hurricane coming,” Danny says.

  “Not a hurricane, stupid,” Sebastian tells him. “There’s no hurricanes around here.”

  Danny shrugs. “Whatever, man.”

  “Is Simon still mad?” Teddy asks. His face is bubblegum pink, from the wind and leftover embarrassment, I guess.

  “He forgot all about it,” I say. “Really.” Tim nods and passes a poking stick over so Teddy can have a turn at flipping our dinner. Teddy tucks it under his arm and then holds his palms out to the sky. The air feels full somehow. Everybody’s hair is curling.

  “It’s definitely going to precipitate,” Teddy tells us.

  “Better not rain until we eat,” Stacy goes, and I could swear Mother Nature listens to her because it doesn’t start to thunder or really pour until we’ve finished our whole meal, including two bags’ worth of marshmallows.

  * * *

  It gets pretty cold in the mountains at night. I wear my long johns plus a sweatshirt plus my blue sweater, and I borrow Tim’s poncho and Sophie’s umbrella to get to the toilet pits. I’ve waited too long, and I have to go so bad, I could practically wet my pants. My flashlight cuts a bright path through the night, the steady beam spreading into the black distance. Swollen drops slip into the beam from nowhere, making grass blades bow and sparkle, reminding me of Simon’s candle flame.

  By the time I get to the three pines, I’m soaking and shivering, and the bundle of toilet paper I’ve been trying to keep dry in Tim’s coat pocket is nothing but mush. Great. I veer away from the pits and shine my light toward a patch of brush where I know I can grab a handful of leaves, and that’s when I see Simon. I see everything. His heavy arc of pee, his rain-slicked wet thing above a jiggling sack of skin, and a nest of brown hair. Everything.

  He jumps about a mile high. His thing flaps up and then down, still spilling from its tip. I drop my flashlight.

  “Whoa,” Simon goes, and then he goes, “Jesus,” and then, “Alex, is that you?”

  I want to die of embarrassment right there and then.

  “Sorry,” I tell him, feeling around on the ground for my flashlight. A flicker skips into my eyes from the sky, and I automatically start counting to see how close the lightning is. Simon taught us that: Every second between lightning and thunder equals one fifth of a mile. One, two . . .

  “Jesus,” Simon says again. The mud and grass under my fingers are freezing, and my bladder’s about to burst. Three. Lightning fills the air just at the same time as another thunderclap shakes the ground. I see Simon kneeling right next to me, my flashlight in his hand. In the next second it’s dark again, except for the skinny yellow path of the flashlight beam.

  “Sorry,” I say again. I stand up fast. “I should have made some noise or something.” My face is so hot, I’m sure it must be sizzling the raindrops into puffs of steam.

  “Not your fault,” Simon goes. He steps backward. “Could have made a noise myself. Singing.” He’s trying to make it better, but there’s no way. On top of everything else, the last thing I want to do is imagine him singing with his pants down. He hands me the flashlight. I keep it aimed at the ground. I guess neither of us wants to look at the other.

  “I really have to go,” I tell him. A water bead wiggles at the end of my chin.

  “Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

  “Do you have any extra toilet paper?” I go. “Mine’s ruined.” He reaches under his raincoat and hands me a roll. Our fingers touch, wet and soft, and I jerk back fast.

  “Alex, it’s all right,” Simon says. “Nothing you need to worry about.” That makes me feel a little better. But still. “See you tomorrow?” Simon goes, like he wants to make sure I’m okay. So I try to sound okay.

  “See you tomorrow,” I say, and he steps away.

  I’m shaking pretty bad, and I pee a little on my shoe, but I’m trying so hard to get Simon’s thing out of my head, I barely even notice.

  * * *

  On my way back to the tent I try taking deep breaths to calm down. In through my nose and out through my mouth. I’ve never seen a man’s thing before, besides my father’s when I was really little, in the bathroom and stuff, which I can hardly remember. And I used to sometimes catch a glimpse of Tim’s when we would change into swimsuits or during a sleepover. But that was back when we were too young for it to matter. I’ve seen pictures before. And I barely even remember that, either. I definitely didn’t know men’s things were so floppy and thick-looking and sluggy.

  Lightning slices through the sky again, and I count. One. And then the thunder bursts right on top of me, piggybacked by more light filling the air, and I see our whole campsite, clear as day. Two of the tents have been blown flat, with their flaps slapping on the ground. Simon and Teddy’s dad are struggling over another. At the same time three shadows are pulling closed Simon’s car door, and four more are running toward the van. And then, just as quick, it all disappears.

  “You’re soaked,” Sebastian says when I slither inside the mansion. All their flashlights are still on. Tim tosses me a towel. I’m s
o cold, it’s hard to wrap my fingers around the terry cloth.

  “Don’t drip on me,” Stacy orders. Screw her.

  “Me either,” Sebastian goes. All I want to do is get into my sleeping bag.

  “Are you okay?” Tim asks as I crawl to my place next to him.

  I think I’m going to say, The storm’s blown everyone’s tent down. Instead, I whisper, “I just saw Simon peeing!”

  I regret it immediately.

  “No way,” Tim goes.

  “Really?” That’s Sophie. I didn’t mean for anyone else to hear.

  “Did you see his dick?” Stacy asks. I knew it. “Come on, Alex,” she goes. “Did you?”

  If I don’t say something, she’ll start in with her lies anyway. “Sort of,” I say. I wiggle into my sleeping bag and then cross my arms and tuck my hands under my armpits to warm up.

  “Oh, man.” Sebastian’s shaking his head. “Man.”

  “Was it hard?” Stacy goes.

  “Gross!” I tell her, wondering why it would be hard.

  “Was it?”

  “Dicks only get hard for sex,” Tim mutters. I didn’t know that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

  “He was peeing,” I say again. I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “Did you see pee?” Stacy goes.

  “Yes!”

  “Still,” she says, “how do you know he didn’t want you to see his dick?”

  If I weren’t so freaking cold, I’d smack her. “You’re sick, Stacy,” I go. “You’re totally disgusting.”

  “I’m not the one who checked out his thing,” she goes.

  “I did not check it out!” I yell. “It was just there!”

  “And I’m not the one always staring at Alex like that either,” she says to the whole tent, in her know-it-all voice.

  “Like what?” Sophie asks.

  “God,” Stacy goes.

  “Like a lech,” Sebastian tells Sophie. “Right, Stace?”

  “Great, Stacy,” Tim goes. “Now you’ve got Sebastian full of this crap too.” She groans and rolls her eyes again, and Tim snaps off his light, and then so do I. Stacy turns her light off and shuts up, for a change.

  It takes me a while to fall asleep, partly because I’m so cold, but mostly because of everything else. My cheek is stinging again. The lightning’s stopped, and the last count was seven seconds, so I know the storm’s mostly passed. But the rain making fast thumps on the mansion’s roof sounds like some kind of warning to me. Like millions of tiny people jumping up and down, screaming, Watch out, watch out, watch out!

  * * *

  I must have drifted off after all, because a noise is pulling at me. Someone’s unzipping the tent from the outside. I pop on the flashlight fast, under cover of my sleeping bag, and get just enough brightness to see it’s Simon crawling in. Stacy’s sitting straight up, staring at him and breathing like she’s just run down that mountain again.

  “Whoa,” Simon freezes in his crouch. “Stacy, it’s okay. It’s just me.” Stacy’s eyes are wide, and her chest is rising and falling for air. “It’s just me,” Simon says again. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” She breathes a little slower but stays stiff, upright. “Paul’s tent is busted, and the cars are all spoken for,” Simon whispers. “Thought I could keep dry in here with you guys.” Still, he doesn’t move until Stacy does. She slides over Sebastian, waking him up as she flips around him, so now she’s between Sebastian and the tent wall.

  “Hey,” Sebastian mumbles, “I thought you had to be by the door.”

  “This is a tent,” Stacy whispers back. “There isn’t any door.” Simon turns on his light and crawls around everybody’s feet. Nobody’s asleep anymore. It’s crowded now, with him in here, and we all have to cram tight to make extra room. Simon finally wedges himself between my wall and me.

  “Told you,” Stacy says. Sebastian sucks in his breath, and Tim stops squinting and rubbing his eyes. Everybody’s really quiet. Not asleep quiet in a peaceful way, but awake quiet, in a way that you just know something’s wrong.

  “What’s up?” Simon asks all of us, sitting into a cramped position with his arms wrapped around his shins and his chin on his knees.

  “Ask her,” Tim goes, meaning Stacy. He’s daring her to say what she thinks to Simon’s face.

  “Don’t look at me,” she goes. Simon looks at me, instead. I have no idea what to say.

  * * *

  I wake up one more time. The quick, wet thumps on the tent have stopped, and the air feels thinner, clearer. My left arm prickles. I try to lift it, but I can’t because Simon’s arm is weighing it down. His leg is squished against my back too. He’s fallen over onto his side. I squirm into a tiny sliver of space in the other direction as fast as I can, but not before I hear a flashlight’s click and see Stacy sitting up and staring. I know what she’s thinking.

  “He’s asleep!” I whisper to her. She shakes her head slow, like she thinks I’m an idiot.

  The night doesn’t go too well after that. I have a lot of bad dreams. In one I’m trapped in a school full of nothing but walls and hallways but no exits. I’m trying to help a little kid get out, but I don’t know the way myself. Then suddenly the little kid turns into a monster with Simon’s face, and then the dream turns into a movie, and I’m in the audience. Then I don’t remember what happens, except when I wake up, it seems like the dream lasted all night long.

  11

  IN THE MORNING Simon’s gone and so is everybody else. The window flaps of our tent are rolled down, and the sun makes a screen of shadows through the webbed netting. I touch the rough scab on my cheek, from just under my eye to my mouth. I’ll tell my parents a branch scratched me, because they won’t like the truth.

  I’m shrugging myself out of my sleeping bag when Sebastian falls halfway through the entrance.

  “She’s alive!” he yells, and I drag him inside.

  “Why didn’t anybody wake me up?” I’m wondering what I missed. Stacy pokes her head in and crawls through.

  “We went on a hike,” she tells me, like nothing’s happened. “After we found all the tent stuff. Everything got blown all over the place.” She pretends she doesn’t even notice me glaring at her. She’s holding a bunch of toothpicks in her hand. Tim crawls in, and Sophie’s right behind him.

  “Tim tried to get you up,” Sophie goes. “You wouldn’t open your eyes.”

  “Simon told us to let you sleep,” Tim says. I brace myself, waiting for Stacy to tell everyone what she thought she saw last night. But she keeps quiet. Viv crawls in next, with Teddy right after, and everybody scoots around on their butts to make room. Stacy holds out a handful of toothpicks. “Pick one,” she tells me.

  “Whatever it is,” I go, “I’m not playing.”

  “Come on, Alex,” Stacy goes. “It’s spin the bottle.” She holds up an empty water bottle. “Whoever gets the purple mark goes first.” She holds the toothpicks out to me again. I look to Tim, but he just shrugs, kind of nervous.

  “I’m not playing anything with you,” I tell Stacy.

  “God, Alex,” she goes. “Why are you so afraid of a little game?” That’s not what makes me change my mind. It’s knowing that if I go outside and they hear Simon talking to me, there’s no telling what she might say. So I pick a stupid toothpick. It looks regular to me. Viv goes next, and he gets the one with the purple ink at the bottom.

  “That sucks,” Sebastian goes. “I wanted to go first.”

  “Okay. Get in a circle,” Stacy commands. We sit cross-legged. Stacy arranges us: boy, girl, boy, girl. Teddy puts the bottle in the middle of our ring. We have to clear away some of the sleeping bags and mess kits to make room for the bottle to spin. I’ve never kissed anyone before, besides my parents, and that doesn’t count, anyway. I’m not sure if this game is mouth kissing or cheek kissing or what, but I’m scared if I ask, Stacy will say something I don’t want to hear.

  Viv spins, and I hold my breath, hoping it doesn’t land on me. It doesn’t. It
lands on Sophie. She looks down at her crossed legs but doesn’t move a muscle. Viv gets up on his knees, I guess so he can lean over better. Teddy and Sebastian start to giggle, but Viv’s not doing anything.

  “For every second you wait,” Stacy goes, “you have to keep the kiss going for two more seconds.” When Viv still doesn’t do anything, she starts counting. “One Mississipp—,” she goes. Viv leans over really quick and kisses Sophie right on the mouth. So it’s mouth kissing.

  Sophie smiles a quick, small smile, and Viv sits regular again, pretending nothing much happened.

  “Your turn,” Sebastian says to Sophie. She spins the bottle, and it lands on Teddy.

  “No tongue, please,” he goes. “I don’t like that French stuff.” Sophie gives him a fish peck on the mouth. Teddy’s neck turns pink. Big surprise.

  “Come on,” Stacy tells him. “Spin.” He spins, but right at the same time Simon’s face in one of the tent windows makes us jump.

  “Let’s go,” he says through the netting. “We’ve got to be on the road soon. Your tent should be down already.”

  “I knew it,” Sebastian goes when we hear Simon’s feet scrunching away. “I never get my turn.”

  Viv and Sophie slip out of the tent together, and Teddy helps slide Sebastian out after them. Tim gets ready to go after Teddy, but Stacy blocks his way.

  “Wait a minute,” she says. “You guys never got a chance to kiss.” My stomach does a little flip.

  “That’s okay,” Tim says, glancing at me through his curls. He needs a haircut. I want to ask him why it’s okay, because suddenly, even though I don’t really want to either, it matters.

  Stacy puts her hands on her hips. “It’s not going to kill you, you know.”

  “They’re waiting for us,” I go.

  Stacy rolls her eyes. “I thought you two were friends.”

  “We are,” we both say.

  “Friends kiss all the time,” Stacy goes. I kick at the water bottle on the ground. It slides a little and then spins once, pointing toward Stacy. I sneak a glance at Tim, who looks like he did that time last month when we thought we were stuck in the elevator at the mall.