her house. As if she didn’t just have a face full of my brother. I can tellAaron is embarrassed, walking with his arms straight at his sides. It’s not until Jess wraps an arm around his waist that he actually begins to look normal again.
Everybody stops in front of a tall chain-link fence. Behind it, in the darkness, waves crash against rocks. Salt fills my nose, the smell transforming into memories of me and Aaron playing on the beach, our legs raw from the sand and our backs hot from the sun. Myrtle Beach in the summer, Dad’s unnatural ability to find the worst motel no matter how many times we made the trip—all of it rushes over me like one of those warm ocean waves.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that the fence is locked and looped with thick chains.
“It’s closed,” I say. A few of the kids laugh, and Jess puts her foot onto the chain link, pulling herself up.
“Only for the mortals, Abs,” she says, climbing up and over the fence in only a few movements. The others follow until it’s only me and Aaron standing there.
“Can you get over it?” he asks.
“Of course I can get over it,” I say. “What kind of question is that?”
But I don’t hop the fence with the rest of them because that’s not what’s bothering me. “She called me Abs.”
He shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”
It’s familiarity. Only Aaron has ever called me it—because when we were little, he stuttered and couldn’t get Abigail to come off his tongue. Right or wrong, it was always ours—mine. And hearing Jess say it bothers me, even if I can’t fully say why.
Jess rattles the fence and says, “You guys coming?”
Aaron looks at me before putting his foot into the fence. I don’t have much of a choice but to follow him, and when my feet are on the sandy pavement on the other side, he smiles and points to a dark wooden staircase. The others, except for Jess, have already started down.
“Be careful. It’s super dark,” Jess says.
As we take the steps down toward the beach, the fog thickens and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks comes again from the darkness. Below us, on the beach, the others are running and yelling, shapeless shadows that disappear into the darkness like tiny ghosts.
I turn in their direction, and Jess stops me. “We’ll go down there in a minute. I want you to see something first.”
She goes the opposite way, leading us to a second staircase, which ends in front of a huge boulder. In the darkness, my feet find grooves cut into the rock by the windand the sand, perfect steps. As I put my foot in the first one, Jess’s hand appears above me. She pulls me to the top of the boulder, where the entire bay spreads out beneath us. In the distance, the fuzzy lights of the Golden Gate Bridge fight to break through the thick air.
We stand there, staring at the bridge and the fog, as Aaron climbs up and stands between us.
“I love this,” he says.
Even through the fog, the bridge seems alive, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Lights from distant cars skip across it before disappearing into the darkness on the other side. I want to know what’s out there, where it takes people. But I don’t ask, only watch. I could sit here all night.
“This is one of the first places I found when I came to the city,” Jess says. “I thought it was my own little secret. Like nobody ever noticed this perfect beach. Or the staircase, for that matter.”
She laughs.
“I was stupid. About a lot of things.”
Aaron puts his arm around her and she leans her head onto his shoulder, still talking.
“For a long time, this was the only place I felt safe. I’d sleep down on the beach, next to another boulder. Evennow, if things get too crazy, I come down here.”
Jess smiles but it reminds me of Mom—a flare that burns bright, only to go out just as quickly. In front of us, the bridge sits in its hazy glory, oblivious to anything other than itself.
“Do you still sleep
Everybody stops in front of a tall chain-link fence. Behind it, in the darkness, waves crash against rocks. Salt fills my nose, the smell transforming into memories of me and Aaron playing on the beach, our legs raw from the sand and our backs hot from the sun. Myrtle Beach in the summer, Dad’s unnatural ability to find the worst motel no matter how many times we made the trip—all of it rushes over me like one of those warm ocean waves.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that the fence is locked and looped with thick chains.
“It’s closed,” I say. A few of the kids laugh, and Jess puts her foot onto the chain link, pulling herself up.
“Only for the mortals, Abs,” she says, climbing up and over the fence in only a few movements. The others follow until it’s only me and Aaron standing there.
“Can you get over it?” he asks.
“Of course I can get over it,” I say. “What kind of question is that?”
But I don’t hop the fence with the rest of them because that’s not what’s bothering me. “She called me Abs.”
He shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”
It’s familiarity. Only Aaron has ever called me it—because when we were little, he stuttered and couldn’t get Abigail to come off his tongue. Right or wrong, it was always ours—mine. And hearing Jess say it bothers me, even if I can’t fully say why.
Jess rattles the fence and says, “You guys coming?”
Aaron looks at me before putting his foot into the fence. I don’t have much of a choice but to follow him, and when my feet are on the sandy pavement on the other side, he smiles and points to a dark wooden staircase. The others, except for Jess, have already started down.
“Be careful. It’s super dark,” Jess says.
As we take the steps down toward the beach, the fog thickens and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks comes again from the darkness. Below us, on the beach, the others are running and yelling, shapeless shadows that disappear into the darkness like tiny ghosts.
I turn in their direction, and Jess stops me. “We’ll go down there in a minute. I want you to see something first.”
She goes the opposite way, leading us to a second staircase, which ends in front of a huge boulder. In the darkness, my feet find grooves cut into the rock by the windand the sand, perfect steps. As I put my foot in the first one, Jess’s hand appears above me. She pulls me to the top of the boulder, where the entire bay spreads out beneath us. In the distance, the fuzzy lights of the Golden Gate Bridge fight to break through the thick air.
We stand there, staring at the bridge and the fog, as Aaron climbs up and stands between us.
“I love this,” he says.
Even through the fog, the bridge seems alive, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Lights from distant cars skip across it before disappearing into the darkness on the other side. I want to know what’s out there, where it takes people. But I don’t ask, only watch. I could sit here all night.
“This is one of the first places I found when I came to the city,” Jess says. “I thought it was my own little secret. Like nobody ever noticed this perfect beach. Or the staircase, for that matter.”
She laughs.
“I was stupid. About a lot of things.”
Aaron puts his arm around her and she leans her head onto his shoulder, still talking.
“For a long time, this was the only place I felt safe. I’d sleep down on the beach, next to another boulder. Evennow, if things get too crazy, I come down here.”
Jess smiles but it reminds me of Mom—a flare that burns bright, only to go out just as quickly. In front of us, the bridge sits in its hazy glory, oblivious to anything other than itself.
“Do you still sleep
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