Page 19

CHAPTER TWELVE

On Saturday morning at nine o’clock sharp, I meet Leo outside Newberry for our hike. He’s perched on a retaining wall, but when he sees me, he rises and smiles, his dark eyes shining and the breeze teasing his hair.

“No hat?” I ask.

“No, but I’ve got gloves in the car.”

“You have a car?” With so little space for parking, it’s rare for students to bring their cars to Brownhill.

“I’m borrowing Avery’s,” he admits. “I thought we’d drive up near the Tennessee border, if that’s okay with you.”

I nod. It sounds more than okay. The further out of town, the fewer the people. Which means more peace and fewer emotions. I have half a mind to ask him to take me all the way to Knoxville.

In the small student lot, he stops alongside a gunmetal grey Volkswagen Jetta. Not a car I would’ve picked out for Avery—too Daddy’s princess—but it’s further confirmation that her family has money. Inside, it smells like patchouli.

Although we’re fewer than ten miles from the state line, it takes us almost twenty minutes of winding alongside the river on a country road to get to our destination.

We’re deep in the Pisgah National Forest and when we get out of the car, we’re greeted by the wind in the trees and the sound of rushing water.

As I look out past the lot and through the underbrush, I see white foam and blue ripples. “Is that the French Broad?”

“It’s a tributary.” Leo takes a backpack out of the trunk and slings it over his shoulder. “Snacks and water,” he explains with a smile.

“Animal crackers?”

“Among other things.”

We stop at a National Park Service plaque to consult the map. There’s more than one trail we could hike, but Leo points to the second longest, which is seven miles round trip. “If you’re willing, I’d like to do this one. It’s not too steep and it ends at an old ghost town.”

“Ghost town? Really?” There’s such a thing this side of the Rockies?

Leo’s eyes light up. “It was a mill town that was abandoned in the 1920s. There’s not a lot left, only some chimneys and foundations and stuff, but I still think it would be pretty cool to see it.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.” I can handle seven miles easily, and although the idea of walking around a ghost town spooks me a little, I’m not going to be a party pooper. It’s the middle of the day, we’re outside, and I’m with Leo. I’ll be fine.

And no, I in no way believe in ghosts.

For the first mile or so, we walk at an easy pace, hands stuffed in our coat pockets to shield them from the cold.

Dried brown leaves carpet a trail that’s wide enough for us to walk side by side.

Only rarely does Leo need to duck to avoid getting clotheslined by low branches.

He must be at least six feet tall. And for someone who lives on animal crackers, he’s surprisingly fit and lean. All muscle.

I know because I was pressed against him with my hands on his chest .

I turn away to hide my flaming cheeks and mindlessly snap a half-dead leaf off an obliging tree. When Leo notices it spinning between my fingers, he stops and takes hold of my hand.

“Hey.” He stills me with a soft voice and pleading eyes. “Don’t you think it would be better to leave the leaves on the trees?”

I let out a little laugh. “Yeah. Probably.”

The poor leaf in my hand still has some green in it. I’ve taken it before its time.

“You did the same thing to a maple the other night when I walked you home from Avery’s.”

“I did?”

He nods.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I do that.” Apparently, ruthlessly plucking leaves is a favorite nervous habit of mine.

He grins. “Because you’re a heartless criminal?”

“And you came out here to the woods with me alone?” I narrow my eyes, trying my best to look sinister.

“Scary.”

“I know, right?”

He lets go of my hand, drawing my gaze back to the victim of my crime.

Unsure what to do with the corpse, I look up at Leo for instruction.

Chuckling, he takes the leaf from me and, with a gentle flick, sends it floating toward the river.

I can’t imagine how it could make it to the water, it’s too far and there’s not enough wind here among the trees, but the leaf soars more out than up.

It’s airborne for what feels like a moment longer than what natural law would allow, sending a shiver up my back.

I shudder and blink and the feeling disappears.

Leo is gazing out at the river, but I no longer see the leaf. I have no idea where it landed.

“Come here. Let me show you something.” He summons me to a tall, shapeless evergreen tree, takes my gloved hand, and places it, palm flat, on the trunk. Beside me, he does the same thing.

“What are we doing?”

“Shhh.”

“What?” I snatch away my hand. Are there bees in there? “Why do you want me to shush?”

He whispers through his patient smile, “So you can concentrate.”

“On…?”

“Just do it. Shut your eyes.”

I watch his flutter closed as he rests a cheek against the bark. Good god, those eyelashes.

Although it’s hard not to stare at him, I follow suit.

Because the tree feels kind of good. The bark is rough, but it doesn’t scratch my skin, and it’s neither too warm nor too cold.

The tree draws me closer, as if it were a magnet.

I lean my chest against it, wrap an arm around its girth.

For god’s sake, I’m hugging a tree, literally hugging a tree, and I swear it’s hugging me back.

“How does it feel?” Leo asks.

“Nice.” There’s a good chance he’s watching me, but I don’t care. I keep my eyes shut, unwilling to break the spell I’m under.

“You’re an English major. You can do better than nice .”

“Okay, let me see.” The tree is teeming with life, filling me with a sort of nourishing energy. “How about fortifying ?”

I chance a glimpse at Leo. His eyes are still closed and, like me, his whole upper body is flush with the trunk. “That makes sense,” he murmurs. “Trees are supposed to be grounding.”

Grounding. That’s exactly what the tree is. Safe and supportive.

“Oh!” My eyes pop open again. “You know what it feels like?”

Leo peers back at me. “What?”

“Trust.”

He doesn’t say anything. Or blink.

“You know, like, if trust were a tangible thing, it would be this tree.” I step back and take off a glove so I can touch the bark with the pads of my fingers.

I can feel its vitality even more intensely with my bare hand.

How can something this solid and strong exist in our shallow, transient world?

Voice low, Leo says to me, “I knew you would feel it. ”

“Feel what?”

“Its energy.” He tilts his head back to take in the tree’s full height.

“Because I’m clairsentient?”

“Because you’re aware.”

I’m not sure what he means, but I’m not going to spoil the moment with a philosophical discussion.

“It’s a hemlock,” he says, inspecting the tree’s needles and the pattern in its bark.

I’m stunned. Hardly anyone in our generation knows tree names.

We know memes and celebrities and songs, comic book characters and Twitch streamers; we don’t know trees.

I can identify a maple and a weeping willow, but that’s about it.

Maybe an oak if it’s bearing acorns. Sadly, trees haven’t figured much into my life.

I grew up in a newly built suburban neighborhood where the trees were younger and smaller than me.

Of the four little saplings planted in our yard, only one survived its infancy.

I had nothing to climb, hug, or picnic under.

Leo smiles as we reluctantly tear ourselves from our new friend. “Do you think you’ll be able to pull leaves off trees now?”

“No way.” I give the trunk a farewell pat. “Thank you,” I tell it. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

We continue on the trail as it winds away from the river. When it gets too narrow to walk shoulder to shoulder, Leo slips in front of me to lead the way, pushing aside low-hanging branches and warning me not to trip on roots.

Meanwhile, I admire his rear view.

Abruptly he stops, stretching out a hand to keep me from plowing into his back.

Peering around his shoulder, I see an enormous tree trunk lying across our path.

It looks like it’s been here a while, long enough to have things living both under and inside it.

Only a few feet off the trail is the spot where it was ripped straight out of the ground.

It’s a violent sight. Muddy, grotesque roots reach helplessly into the air, looking like veins and intestines torn from a human body. I suck in a breath and turn away .

Leo asks. “Under or over?”

It’s a tricky question. Neither option is ideal. Seeing as it comes up almost to my shoulders, I doubt I’d be able to climb over it without help, but how dirty and damp would I get if I squeezed underneath it?

“Over?” I suggest. “But I might need a boost.”

Leo nods in agreement.

On the count of three, I jump while he lifts me by the hips, giving me just enough height to get my hands on top of the trunk to push myself up. I turn around to help him, but he’s already climbing up beside me.

“I like it up here.” I take off my hat to better hear the trees sighing in the wind.

“As good a place as any to take a little rest.”

Noticing the trunk is wide enough to lie on, I stretch out lengthwise and gaze up at the sky through the treetops. Leo drops his backpack carefully onto the ground and lies down too, so we’re head to head.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” I say. “I’m liable to roll right off this thing.”

He chuckles. “I can’t help you if I fall asleep first.”

“I suppose eventually some other hikers’ll come along and make us move.” So far, we’ve only passed a handful of people on the trail.

“Probably.”

“But until then—” I sigh.

During our time in the woods, the cloud cover has broken up, revealing a bright blue sky. Bare branches sketch black lines and hash marks across it, marks that bend and move in the breeze.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Leo asks, “So have you been wearing the amethyst?”