I toss open my curtain. Sunlight floods my room, the golden hues of a sunny day brightening my walls and bedsheets. I grin until my cheeks hurt. It wasn’t too long ago I’d sat by my jacaranda tree at school and dreamt about a picnic by Lake Lasem.
It’s the first sunny day we’ve had in weeks, and I refuse to waste it. I pull on a red polka dot sundress, adjusting the straps around my shoulders. The skirt twirls around my knees when I move, light as a feather. Thanks to Ward’s endless winters, the dress has been taken off the hanger a grand total of two times. I draw a white cardigan over my arms and clip a tiny glass dolphin necklace around my neck.
Staring into the mirror, I twist the necklace between clumsy fingers and try to swallow around the rock in my throat. Mama bought the dolphin for me when I turned seven. She’d gone to a conference with Baba in Santa Barbara and delivered it to me inside a cerulean glass case.
This little basha couldn’t wait to find you, she’d said in a co-conspiratorial whisper.He leapt right into my hands.
I turn away from my reflection. Someday, I’ll make my peace with never having truly known my mother. Love is difficult to suffocate. It fuses to your bones, fills your veins, coils around your mind. At best, extracting it leaves scars. At worst, you don’t survive it.
Maybe when I’m stronger, I’ll bury my memories beneath the truth of who she was and hope it extinguishes that persistent voice that whispers:
She was terrible. She was a villain.
But she was mine.
The trees whisper as I walk between them, branches rustling in the warm breeze.
The only parking near the lake consists of a three-car dirt lot, so I parked near the tourist center. Baba would have too many questions if I came home with mud splattered over the tires.
I try to move carefully along the path, avoiding the trenches of mud left over from the Ward Wailer. Not an easy task in the best of times, but with half my body numb and leaden, I keep forgetting how to shift my weight against the dirt.
The sun pierces through the trees, casting twisted shadows along the path. They stop my heart for a good minute.
I shield my face against the sun, grumbling a laugh. Of course, it would be in the brightness that I’m most afraid. Shadows don’t exist in perfect darkness. They can only be created in the light.
I pass warning sign after warning sign, most of which have met the unfriendly end of a bottle of spray paint. I don’t need to read past the graffiti to know they’re warning hikers away from this side of the lake. Even during the day, Lake Lasem poses a real threat to anyone unfamiliarwith the path. The most careful Ward locals have stumbled off the ledge on the south-facing side of the lake. One wrong step, and you’re free falling sixty feet into the water. In the winter, if the drop itself doesn’t kill you, the temperature of the lake will.
I’d bet my last dollar that Jesse picked this spot to avoid the crowds on the other side of the lake. Canyon High tradition dictates a pre-prom picnic by Lake Lasem, which means half the school is probably camped a few miles north.
I walk for what feels like an eternity before I find him.
Sitting against a slim redwood, his arm slung over one crooked knee, is Jesse. He doesn’t notice my arrival. I stop short, drinking in the sight of him.
He looks … exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes have only sunk deeper. The light tousle in his hair has officially upgraded to messy, as though he’s been shoving his hands through it at all hours of the day. He rolls his head back against the tree, bloodshot eyes fixed into the distance.
Deep in thought, he doesn’t notice my approach.
“You can’t be mad at me for being late,” I say. “I hiked a mile to get here. In adress.”
Jesse doesn’t raise his head, but a single sardonic brow arches. “The parking lot is over there.” He gestures vaguely behind him. “It’s a five-minute walk.”
“I didn’t want to get mud on the car.”
His lips hitch into a small smile. “Ah, the great Yasmina Mansour finally falls prey to parental wrath. Celebrities—they’re just like us!”
Rolling my eyes, I settle next to Jesse on the blanket, placing my basket next to his. “If skulking around train yards doesn’t pan out, I’m glad you have a career in mediocre comedy to fall back on.”
Jesse’s smile graduates to a full-blown grin, but it doesn’t spark the same warmth in my belly as it usually does.
He isn’t looking at me.
“Your dad still pissed?” he says.
I study Jesse’s profile for a minute before turning my attention to the lake. “No, he doesn’t usually stay mad for long. He’s just hovering. Guilty conscience, I think. He hasn’t paid this much attention to me since I was a kid. Lot of years to catch up on.”
We gaze out onto the lake. I rearrange my dress around my legs as a I draw my knees to my chest. Closing my eyes, I tip my chin toward the sun, soaking in the warmth.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I murmur.
