Till Forever is Ours

08.

AS I SAT IN MY ROOM, TRYING TO CONCENTRATE ON the third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain— again— it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my expectations.

"So what did Yelena Belova want yesterday?" America asked in Trig.

"Nothing much," I answered. "She just wanted to talk."

America hummed and muttered, "Interesting." And then perked up, "You know I've never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird."

"Yeah, sure... weird."

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew she wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with America and Billy, I couldn't keep from looking at her table, where Natasha, Carol, and Steve sat talking, heads close together.

And I couldn't help but feel a pang in my chest when I didn't see her with them, she hadn't mentioned anything about her missing yesterday.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Billy was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today— almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

When lunch was over, I was behind America and Billy when I heard her muffled hisses, "...don't know why Kate" — she sneered my name— "doesn't just sit with the Shostakovs from now on,"

"She's my friend; she sits with us," Billy whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially.

I rolled my eyes and walked ahead of them, not wanting to hear anymore.

☥

That night at dinner, Derek seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habit to break them now. Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Yelena Belova.

Not that I was going to tell him.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah— why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again.

Everyone was to meet up with Billy at his dad's store on the other north side of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there— not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In the parking lot, I recognized Billy's Suburban and Michelle's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing in front of the Suburban. Peter was there, along with two boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ned and Zach.