The loop, p.7
The Loop, page 7
Who was that talking? Ginny Bucholtz? She had that weird vocal fry sound to her voice.
“No joke?”
“Seriously. And get this—she said it might be Jason’s. She got a text from him a few days before he disappeared, and all it said was Come over, so she did, and then when she got there she said that he was shaky, and he was aggressive, like not even talking to her, and he grabbed her and turned her around, but you know she’s always had a crush on him, so she was like, I guess this is how this happens. He was a shitty lay too, like he only stuck it in once and then barely moved it until he started shivering. And then when they were done, he just said, ‘Get out.’ So she did. But here’s the crazy part. On the way back to her car, she saw Jennifer Schwartz pulling into the same cul-de-sac.”
“What. The. Fuck?”
“Right?”
“Oh, and wait. There’s more—she said the only time Jason really stopped shaking was when he was inside her.”
“You think he’s doing more than coke now?”
“Who knows?”
“All I know is Amy needs to start making some better life choices. At this rate she’s lucky she hasn’t had, like, a baby made out of herpes.”
“Jesus, that’s gross.”
“Ha! Herpes baby. Herpes baby.”
“What the fuck, though? Shut up! You’re gonna make me throw up.”
“Can’t help it. Oh my god, this weed is crazy.”
“You want to go back to the party?”
“I want some fucking Taco Bell.”
“I want to eat a herpes baby.”
“Ugh. You’re the worst, bitch. I love you.”
“Let’s stay long enough to check out the other party.”
Wait. What other party?
Lucy’s curiosity drove her closer. On her second step, her heel slipped on a batch of crumbled, porous lava rock, sending stones skittering down toward the girls.
Fuck!
Lucy quickly curled into a ball and hoped her dark hoodie and pants and the girls’ significantly stoned brains would conspire to conceal her.
“What was that?”
“Bats, maybe.”
“Maybe. Tom said he’s seen a coyote in here before. Either way, let’s walk back over. Nate Carver should be here by now.”
“Girl, no. He’s an asshole.”
“He broke up with Emily last week.”
“Still an asshole.”
“I’m not trying to marry him. You ever see him running in those short little track shorts? That’s all I’m saying.”
“Ginny wants Nate’s herpes baby!”
“Jesus. Handle your shit, Trace. You’re gooning out.”
Trace? Lucy figured that was Tracy Scheimer. Why was it always the honor society kids who started acting out when they got high?
The girls and their stream of gossip and laughter moved away from Lucy and back toward the fire. Without someone to haunt, Lucy felt the truth for a moment—We’re here now because a boy is dead. And another was killed. And another is missing. And here I am, alone in the dark while everyone else celebrates.
These were not observations she’d wanted, or a feeling she could bear. She roamed quietly in search of anything else.
She checked out the center of the party and spotted Bucket standing at the edge of the fire, slowly sipping a beer and nodding to the music coming from the closest stereo. She knew if she followed his eyes she’d be able to spot Ashley Jorgensen too.
C’mon, buddy. You’ve got to move past that.
Lucy wondered if Bucket only pined for unattainable women like Toni and Ashley because he knew he’d never have to form a close connection with them, or face being rejected. Then she wondered if all her sessions with Dr. Nielsen were turning her into an armchair psychiatrist. Then she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t turn some of that insight inward and figure out why the fuck she was playing cave ninja. Or why she could barely manage to sit at a dinner table with the two kindest people she’d ever met. Or why she was having sex dreams back-to-back with dreams about her teacher’s face caving in. Or why…
“Whatchadoin’, Lucy?”
Lucy yelped and almost tumbled forward. How the hell had Brewer found her in the dark?
Wolf pupils. Bat hearing.
“You peeing? I can walk away for a sec.”
“No. Jesus. I kind of have to pee now, though. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry, y’all. Wasn’t sure you were even real till I got close. Thought you might be a small black bear, or a spirit or something. But when I got closer, I smelled that nice smell you’ve got. That and your shoes. I remembered your shoes.”
“Uh… thanks.”
“Look at that little tribe down there, all huddled around the fire. That’s old, what they’re doing.”
Lucy figured that shit felt profound inside Brewer’s addled mind, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to play sounding board for his trip. The way he’d talked to her when he was sober had felt so playful and direct. She hoped for more of that. Plus, she didn’t want him to ask her any questions that might reveal her transition into ghost mode. She aimed for diversion. “What have you been up to? You find any bones?”
“No. Kinda bummed. I guess the Forest Service and the volunteer groups really cleaned this joint out last time it got trashed. Only found used condoms and busted forty bottles, which, you know, double bummer. My best guess is that the bones I felt in my hand were buried. Maybe mastodon bones, way down there, from thousands of years ago. Strong signal.”
“Probably.”
“Hey, can I ask you kind of a personal question?”
“You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“I like that! All right. Is it true that where you’re from there’s a pink dolphin that lives in the river and puts curses on people?”
How does he know I’m from Peru? Bucket…
What else does he know?
Lucy’s skin flushed, but she answered quickly to keep from seeming flustered. “There are real pink dolphins. They call them botos. But they don’t really do curses. Some people say they take on the spirits of the dead, and that’s why they act so human. They’re really playful. But other people think they’re shape-shifters that seduce young women by the riverside.”
“Wait! Seduce? Like how?”
“The boto turns into a handsome fisherman, and if a girl pledges her love, then they hook up. But if you catch them fucking, then the guy turns back into a pink dolphin. And if you don’t catch them, then the girl gives birth to another boto.”
“Whaaaaaaa? No!”
“Yeah. When I was a kid I sat by the river one day and waited for a fisherman to show up. I thought maybe I could have a boto baby and then we could live in the river together.”
Why am I telling him this? Jesus…
“Yeah,” he said. “When I was a kid I wanted a pet great white shark, but then I found out they die in captivity. I was sad for a whole year. No joke. Same as when I found out helium only floated as a gas. I had plans for that liquid helium! Floating castle-sized plans…”
“Kids are dumb.”
“Super dumb.”
“You think we’re still dumb right now? But, like, less dumb?”
“Probably. You’re definitely dumb. I’m borderline brain-dead. Like, why are we standing in a pitch-black cave right now, talking about magic dolphins?”
“I like it here, though.” And it was true. Though it was sudden, Lucy realized she hadn’t felt this good in ages. Brewer really was like the boy who gave her that lollipop—he gave her moments that were better in the middle of all the mess. It happened with Bucket too, but often that felt like survival—they were helping each other get through. This was… different.
“I like it here too. You’re cool as hell, Lucy.”
She hoped that the dark was complete enough to conceal her smile. She didn’t want to seem like the kind of girl who flipped for a compliment.
What would a cool girl say?
“Yeah. I am cool as hell.”
Too on the nose? Did I sell it?
“It’s good you know that. Sometimes when I see you in the hall you seem like you’re trying to hide. And that’s a shame because you’re easily one of the most… What’s the word?”
If he says “exotic,” I’ll scream until this cave collapses.
Brewer continued, “I guess just… interesting. Seems like you have a lot going on. And I see the way that you talk with Bucket, how close you guys are, and I get kind of jealous. That seems like a really good friendship.”
Lucy didn’t respond. Was he playing her? Did she even care? What was this?
They stood in silence for a moment until Brewer tried to recalibrate. “Listen to me running my mouth like I’m thinking out loud. Fucking mushies, dude. Bugging out in the cave like this is some sensory deprivation chamber. I told you I’m du…”
But before he could finish his sentence, Lucy slid her hands onto the sides of his face and pulled herself up to him and kissed him as hard as she could. Then he brought his hands to her face, gentle in the darkness, and kissed her back. After a while, their lips softened and they slid away from each other and then each took a breath.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“That really happened, right?”
“What really happened? What are you talking about?”
“Oh… uh… nothing. Listen, I’m high as hell and—”
“No, I’m fucking with you. We totally kissed.”
“Oh, thank goodness. ’Cause that was great. I’m glad it was real.”
“Me too. But it’s getting weird now, talking about it.”
“Should we kiss again? To stop the weirdness?”
“Probably.”
So they did, and Lucy found herself in another good place, a place where she wanted to stay for as long as she could, away from the fire and chaos at the center of the party, and this second kiss lasted until both their faces ached from it, and then Brewer pulled away and said, “I want to show you the cool part of the cave.”
Brewer’s hand wrapped around hers, and a wave of something she’d never felt before rolled through her entire body, and she smiled again and realized she was ready to go most anywhere with him.
* * *
After a few near tumbles over loose rock, Lucy remembered she was wearing a headlamp and—absent Brewer’s blown-out pupils and familiarity with East Bear—she realized that she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him without seeing where she was going. Ghost mode forgotten, she flipped the switch and squinted at the light beaming from her forehead.
They’d stayed to the dark instead of heading straight through the middle of the party, Lucy feeling like she and Brewer had formed this small and sacred space that only needed to contain the two of them together.
They’d held hands as they walked at first, but Brewer was right—you wanted your arms out for balance. He was leading her into rough terrain, a clamber over boulder-sized stones toward the upper back left section of the main cave.
Seeing Brewer in the light of her headlamp gave her pause at first—he was skinnier than the type she usually went for; his long, artificially colored hair barely concealed the fact that his head was too large for his body; and she now had confirmation that he had no problem ingesting a large amount of drugs.
But none of that mattered to her, not really, because when she thought about what he’d said to her, and the way they’d kissed, she felt a fresh rush of something pure and good through her heart and body, and she couldn’t let go of that feeling.
“Almost there. See that spot where it flattens out up above?”
She saw the spot he was talking about, but beyond it was a small hole in the cave wall, maybe three feet by three feet at the largest. She didn’t know if she could go in there.
She thought about the back of her parents’ car after the accident, how she’d been pinned tight by the steel as the smell of gasoline spread…
Brewer looked back. Could he sense her panic? “It’s a short belly crawl, that’s all. All you have to do is lie flat and wiggle through like one of those army guy toys, and before you know it you’re in a much cooler cave. And it looks like somebody’s already got a fire lit over there, so you’ll be able to see light at the end of the tube. You don’t always get that.”
Lucy looked at the narrow cave entrance and thought of the fire beyond, and memories rushed through her.
Smoke as gasoline ignited/the sound of screaming in the distance.
Purple smoke in the room/screaming a few feet away.
Both times: trapped.
I’m losing it.
I’m going to fuck this up.
He’s going to know I’m damaged goods.
No.
“I’ll go first. Okay, Lucy? So you can see it’s short and it’s safe.”
In the distance, Lucy heard two girls yelling down by the fire in the first cave. Had a fight broken out? Some kind of drunken drama? Maybe Emily caught Ginny moving in on Nate Carver and decided to pull out a chunk of hair.
Ahead of her was Brewer, and he was kind, and he wanted to show her something. And she wanted to be brave and see it.
“You go ahead, and I’ll follow. Do you need the headlamp?”
“No, I know the way. I came out here with my cousin once, and our flashlight died when we were all the way in the second cave. Took us four hours of climbing around to find the way out, but now I know these caves front to back. Also, I’m pretty sure there’s a glowing map of the whole system built into the surface of my left eye like a heads-up display. So we’ve got this.”
God. He’s still tripping. Are you sure he’s not going to crawl into some dead-end tunnel right now and take you with him?
More sounds from the party echoed off the cave walls. A sharp popping sound and another volley of yelling.
Were those fireworks? Did somebody throw a handful of .22 shells into the fire again? Was Bucket doing all right? Nursing his beer and waiting for Ashley to make her move?
Brewer reached out for Lucy to pull her up to the tunnel. Once she was next to him, they both squatted by the entrance. He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Trust me. You’re gonna love this!”
And with that he was gone. Lucy watched the stony mouth swallow him whole, took a deep breath, and dove in after.
chapter five THE PASSAGE
She contemplated turning off her headlamp—actually seeing how small the tunnel became at its center made everything worse. Each short, borderline-panicked exhalation stirred the dust kicked up by Brewer’s belly crawl.
Breathing in all this old dirt. Am I getting enough air?
She pushed her face against the sleeve of her hoodie and inhaled deeply, hoping the fabric might function as a filter. Instead she tasted more grime mixed with the taste of wood smoke and stale cigarettes.
This cave is filthy. We can’t tell because of the night. If it were day, none of this would look or feel the same.
The sound of the parties on each side of the tunnel became a drone of compressed chatter/screams/laughter; all of it merged into a collective cacophony that matched the vibrating anxiety in Lucy’s bones.
Brewer’s voice came back to her, so small beneath the din, sounding nervous despite the fact that he had deepened his tone.
“Feels tighter through the middle than I remember. You really have to rotate your shoulder through to clear the section by the graffiti.”
He wants to sound confident, but he isn’t. Why? Who am I following? Back up. Tell him you’re not into it.
But then she remembered how excited he’d been to show her the other cave, and she remembered his hands on her face, so strong and sure, and she wanted that again, more of that, and she wanted it enough to shuffle her body a foot deeper into the narrowing passageway.
Following a boy. No, not just a boy. Fucking Brewer, of all people. A few compliments, a few kisses, and…
“There we go. It opens up again in a couple more feet.”
This time he did sound confident, and she noticed how far ahead of her he appeared, the way the tunnel stretched out in the thin light and swirling dust. She could barely see his shoes anymore. There was a wink of flickering flame against stone in the distance, and she guessed that was the fire from the second party.
“You coming, Lucy?”
He must have turned his head long enough to notice she wasn’t moving. She felt embarrassed and thought about what lay behind her: Bucket and his dumb fantasies. An ever-worsening, ever-more-chaotic batch of kids drinking themselves into grunting animal states. Jake staring at cheerleader tits with his one dumb eye. Other strange eyes on her, judging her, seeing only the idea of her they’d catalogued under the cruelty of her nickname. “Ugh, Loogie’s here.” All of them acting like everything was great in the midst of everything wrong—smoke and sirens and shots fired, their peers dead or missing or worse—doing their best not to think about a single damn thing, chasing escape through doors leading nowhere.
The trap is behind me.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
Brewer sounded excited now. “I’m almost to the end. There’s definitely another party over here. Sounds wild.”
Lucy squinted, trying to block out the narrowing closeness of the tunnel walls even as she felt the heat of her body radiating back from the cold, gray stone. She saw the graffiti Brewer had mentioned—BILL Z BUB WAS HERE!—and wondered who would stop at such a shitty spot to write something that stupid. Had they inhaled too many spray paint fumes? What if they had died right there, lodged in the tunnel walls, lips blue, face speckled with red paint? What did their parents think when BILL Z BUB’s body was finally found and pulled loose from the cave? What…
“Lucy, you there?”
“Yeah.”
Don’t overthink it. The only way out is through.
Her headlamp slipped on her forehead, the band shifting on a fresh slick of sweat. She pushed forward another foot, her head and right shoulder past the narrowest spot in the passage. She tasted her breath, felt the moisture of it on her face, and smelled a combination of camp smoke and roast beef and Skittles. She felt self-conscious for a moment, wondering how she had tasted to Brewer when he kissed her, but then she remembered he’d eaten manure-grown mushrooms, and she figured they had equally gnarly breath.
