Afterwards, we lie next to each other and Max talks about getting more weed, about maybe finding someone who has shrooms. The forest is black, trees stretching right into the night sky; they are the sky, but starless and tangled. I pull my jeans back on and look for Kate’s bra, which has fallen somewhere between the boulders. Each time I stick my hand between the rocks there’s a cold shock of water at my fingertips. “Do you need help?” Max says, standing over me.
“No.” I plunge my hand into the creek. “I lost something. You can go back if you want.”
“I’m not going to leave you here.”
Eventually I give up and follow Max back through the forest to the party. In the morning a hiker will find Kate’s bra downstream, glittering in the morning sunlight. When we reach the clearing where the dense trees open up onto the party, I veer off in the opposite direction from Max. He stops to look for me, stepping back into the forest to search for a moment, before disappearing into the crowd of kids.
I SPEND THE REST of the night trying to get Kate alone so I can tell her everything that happened. We’re finally sitting together by the fire when I ask her how it was with Elgin. “Perfect,” she says. At the exact same time, a spray of beer hits her cheek and soaks her top. Next to us a group of plastered grade eleven guys are shotgunning beers. Kate turns to them. “Quit it,” she yells, wiping off her face. A guy wearing a yellow baseball cap punctures another can and points it right at Kate’s head, hitting her in the ear with the spray. After that I’m not sure in what order things happen. Someone’s swearing and someone’s laughing. It all sounds normal at first, but then Elgin steps up and, with the back of his hand, knocks the grade eleven’s yellow baseball cap off his head. The guy picks up his hat and puts it back on, stepping up to Elgin. A crowd collects, the fight a magnet drawing everyone together. Another grade eleven in a black hoodie joins in, swings and smashes Elgin’s nose. Blood gushes over Elgin’s mouth and down his T-shirt. He wipes at his face and rubs his bloody hand on his cargo pants. Kate gets pushed to the other side of the crowd and Elgin staggers in the middle of the circle, blood still gushing from his nose onto his white sneakers. He stands there for a moment as it drips down his chin. He spits and smiles, his teeth red, and then the two grade elevens beat the crap out of him. Every time they beat him down, Elgin staggers back up like he wants more. The other guys in the front row are laughing at him. Kate tries to push herself to the front of the crowd, but she keeps getting forced back. Black Hoodie knees Elgin in the stomach and he falls to the ground, curled up with his bloodied fingers wrapped around his head to protect his face. This time he doesn’t get up. One of the other guys gives him a couple kicks to his back and Yellow Baseball Cap pours the rest of his beer on him. On the outskirts of the crowd, Max watches, expressionless, and all of a sudden I feel ashamed.
WE DON’T TALK ON the way to Elgin’s house. Kate and I each take one of his arms, but it’s hard getting out of the dark crush of trees. We keep tripping, Kate keeps swearing, and Elgin asks over and over, “What the fuck happened?” We creep into Elgin’s backyard and go in through the back door so no one will hear us. He leaves little drops of blood on the living room carpet. Above the TV there’s a poster-size photo of a younger Elgin playing hockey. He tells us to be quiet, not to tell his mom. We help him to the bathroom and he sits on the toilet seat, head in hands, his stringy hair falling all around his face. Kate pulls some toilet paper from the roll and hands it to him in a big crumple for the cut above his eye. She presses her lips to his forehead and then looks over at me. My hands suddenly feel empty. Elgin stands unsteadily and looks at his face in the mirror. He blinks a couple times like he can’t believe his own reflection. “Fuck.” He slams his fist against the wall. “Maybe you should go,” Kate says to me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We’re good.” She turns back to Elgin, inspecting his cut.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” As I back out of the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The black eyeliner has smeared, my eyes lost in dark raccoon circles. I’m a creature of the night. The loneliness is still there; it’s worse now. “I’ll call you later,” I say from the hallway.
“Close the door,” Kate says.
IT’S STARTING TO GET light out, a blue band growing behind the trees. I think about taking the shortcut through the forest, but I don’t want to walk on the trail alone. I remember hearing something about bears feeding in the early morning. Or was it cougars? Maybe deer? It doesn’t matter.
The houses are pushing up into the mountains. Or maybe it’s the mountains pushing against the houses. I’m not sure which one it is, but their cold gigantic weight makes me anxious and I want to be somewhere else. An empty bus comes down the street and when I get on the driver doesn’t look at me. I sit near the back. The bus is the only thing on the road and everything is quiet at this time of the morning — cars in their driveways, newspapers on front porches, heads on pillows full of rest. The bus driver and I are the only two dreamless, awake when we shouldn’t be. I’m not sure where the feeling comes from, but all at once I need to talk to Kate so desperately I start to cry. I get off at Grand Boulevard and walk the rest of the way home. Across the inlet, in the distance, the city is a lit grid of neat cubes.
One of the cats has been left out overnight and he sits tall on the top step of the porch, watching me. As I climb the stairs, he paces and I bend down to kiss his soft, grey head. I slip my key into the lock and slowly and quietly open the door. The cat enters the house with intent, disappearing down the hallway as I creep up the stairs to my bedroom. My dirty clothes are everywhere. There are piles of dishes and a pool of hard candle wax across my desk. I close the door and go down the hall to my sister’s room. Carlie’s window is open and everything smells like a summer morning, clean and fresh with promises of lawnmowers and sprinklers. I slip under the covers beside her and in her sleep she makes a space for me. We used to do this if we got scared when we were little kids and shared a room. We have the same eyes and the same smell because I always borrow her perfume. If I wish hard enough, I can believe I was the one in here sleeping all night and Carlie was the one in the forest with Max.
Eventually I fall asleep, but at the same time I hear all the movements in the house. My father’s alarm, the drum of the shower, the car backing out of the driveway. My mom’s bare feet on the stairs, her hands through the dishwater, each piece of cutlery sinking, settling. It’s the first day of summer vacation and there are two months ahead with nothing to do.