FALL (DIMENSION Series #1)

CHAPTER 20

"Are you sure you really want to know?" Derek asked, and the bands of green in his eyes got darker. "Once some things are known, they can't be forgotten," he continued somberly.

      "I'm sure," I said. My car was warm. It had been baked by the sun, but it seemed even warmer now that Derek was in it. There seemed to be heat coming from him and it felt like it was being passed on from him to me, like a current.

      "Okay," he said, staring off into the distance, at the sports fields. "I'll tell you."

      I leaned back in my seat, readying myself for it, but nothing came. I could sense that it was hard for him to tell me the thing, or the things. So, I stayed quiet and gave him some space. Hoping that he'd eventually find it in himself to tell me.

      But even without any words, the moment was perfect. His nearness was overwhelming. I felt light inside, and giddy. I was thrilled just to be sharing oxygen with him.

      Seconds passed and then minutes. I was intensely aware of the sun across my face. It seemed to be bestowing me with some kind of blessing. An omen of good things to come. And the sun fell across his face too. Illuminating those perfect features. His hair, his cheeks. And I envied the sun then. For being on him. For touching his face and resting on his skin.

      "Okay," he finally said as he looked over at me, and I heard something in his voice. Resolve and determination, I thought. And I knew then that he would tell me. The things that had been difficult for him to say.

      He looked right at me and I saw that his eyes were still dark. As if a shadow had moved in. The contrast of his dark green eyes and his sun-drenched skin was striking.

      "Do you mind if we drive?" he asked.

      I shook my head. I didn't mind at all. I'd go anywhere with him. To the mall, to the moon. Or I'd just drive him all around town in my very old car. My parents were both at work and I was supposed to be in biology. It was the perfect time to escape with Derek. My mother wouldn't wonder about me, she wouldn't grill me the moment I walked back in the house with questions about my friend.

      I started my car and the music came on. An album I'd been listening to for weeks now. One I knew well, but not something anyone else at school was listening to. I was about to switch to a radio station instead. But he stopped me. His hand caught mine midair. I was glad that the car was still in park. If I'd actually been driving, I'd have driven off the road or into something.

      His hand was holding onto mine, stopping me from changing the music. He held my hand and I felt it—his skin touching mine. He looked at me as he slowly released it. My hand was on fire. The whole moment was so intense that it took my breath away. The heat in my hand and his nearness. His face only inches from mine.

      "I like this music," he said as he stared straight into my eyes.

      "Joni Mitchell," we both said at the same time.

      "You know Joni Mitchell?" I stammered. I was taken aback. Nobody our age knew Joni Mitchell. She'd been famous in the seventies.

      "Her songs are like poems," I said. I was suddenly eager to speak to him about Joni Mitchell and her incredible music.

     "My mother listened to Joni Mitchell," he said, and his voice was lower. It was almost a whisper.

      "Your mother," I repeated. The mention of his mother brought gravity to our conversation.

      "My mother is dead," he said and stared off into the distance. "My whole family is dead," he continued, his voice a total whisper now. "My mother, my father, my little sister."