watches. And charge our phones.”
“I’ll man the home base,” said Jax. “Even if I can’t go with you, I can still stay up and help. You’re not giving me a curfew now, are you Max?”
“No curfew, little dude.”
“So you can text me any questions. And report back hourly, just to check in.”
“Especially if it’s raining,” said Cara. “Because if it rains….”
“Exactly. Is this thing waterproof?” asked Jax, and lifted a corner of their family’s old red tent.
“Used to be,” said Max. “Not so sure anymore. But it’s not like we’re camping out for days on end or anything.”
“I mean, because of him,” said Jax. “Night and rain. Those are his favorite things.”
“His?” asked Max.
“Pouring man,” said Jax.
“The man who walks in water,” Cara said with a nod.
“As opposed to on water,” added Jax.
“Wait. On water, as in Jesus?” asked Max.
“ In water,” said Jax.
“He sure isn’t Jesus,” said Cara. “Way too creepy.”
Jax shook his head. “And no beard.”
But a slow, steady drizzle began after Max drove off to pitch the tent, telling Lolly he had to pick up his paycheck at the restaurant.
“Great,” whispered Cara to Jax, helping to set the table. “Rain, like you forecasted.”
“I still wish I was going with you,” said Jax.
“Going where, dear?” asked Lolly, bustling in with a basket of bread.
“To-to-to …,” he stammered.
“To school with me in the fall,” broke in Cara, grabbing at straws. “See, they were going to skip him ahead some grades, but Mom and Dad said he was ‘developmentally inappropriate’ for my grade. He’s kind of disappointed.”
“Oh, dear,” said Lolly and patted Jax’s head as though he were Rufus. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. It’s more fun being a kid.”
“Yeah, right,” said Jax.
After she went back into the kitchen they stood staring over the table at the windows beyond, a stack of place mats and napkins in front of them. Cara could see through the trees in their backyard to the rain falling over the bay, freshwater joining the salt ocean in a million minuscule pinpricks on the surface. Soon you wouldn’t be able to see out there at all; already dusk was coming on, and with all the dark clouds overhead it seemed even later.
The branches of the pines dipped and swayed, and beyond them the gray of water and sky seemed to combine without a line between them, into a vague mist.
“Is that what they really said?” he asked after a minute. “I’m not mature enough?”
Cara looked at his hurt face and was surprised, then felt a pang of shame that she hadn’t thought of his feelings.
“I was just making it up, mostly,” she said.
This was one of those times she needed him to keep his promise—his promise not to ping her.
“I mean,” she said, scratching a bite on her arm to give the impression she wasn’t focused on fibbing, “they did think you should be with kids your own age, though. They said you’d have no fun if you were with thirteen-year-olds. That it would be too weird.”
“But I get along with you,” he said. “You’re thirteen.”
“Come on, Jax,” she said gently. “That’s different. You know what I mean.”
He shrugged defensively and turned back to the window.
“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. She didn’t want to make him as nervous as she was about tonight, but she felt so unsure.… They had no idea what they were doing, after all. It was a giant shot in the dark. They were trusting that all this meant something. That it was real—not just a figment of her and Jax’s imagination, which it sometimes seemed to be—and that the signs they were finding were meant for them . “We’re going to be out there at night, with the rain and the lightning, and we’re taking the others, Hayley and Keat and Cory or whoever, without telling them what we’re there to do—maybe putting them in danger, even. And we don’t even know why,
“I’ll man the home base,” said Jax. “Even if I can’t go with you, I can still stay up and help. You’re not giving me a curfew now, are you Max?”
“No curfew, little dude.”
“So you can text me any questions. And report back hourly, just to check in.”
“Especially if it’s raining,” said Cara. “Because if it rains….”
“Exactly. Is this thing waterproof?” asked Jax, and lifted a corner of their family’s old red tent.
“Used to be,” said Max. “Not so sure anymore. But it’s not like we’re camping out for days on end or anything.”
“I mean, because of him,” said Jax. “Night and rain. Those are his favorite things.”
“His?” asked Max.
“Pouring man,” said Jax.
“The man who walks in water,” Cara said with a nod.
“As opposed to on water,” added Jax.
“Wait. On water, as in Jesus?” asked Max.
“ In water,” said Jax.
“He sure isn’t Jesus,” said Cara. “Way too creepy.”
Jax shook his head. “And no beard.”
But a slow, steady drizzle began after Max drove off to pitch the tent, telling Lolly he had to pick up his paycheck at the restaurant.
“Great,” whispered Cara to Jax, helping to set the table. “Rain, like you forecasted.”
“I still wish I was going with you,” said Jax.
“Going where, dear?” asked Lolly, bustling in with a basket of bread.
“To-to-to …,” he stammered.
“To school with me in the fall,” broke in Cara, grabbing at straws. “See, they were going to skip him ahead some grades, but Mom and Dad said he was ‘developmentally inappropriate’ for my grade. He’s kind of disappointed.”
“Oh, dear,” said Lolly and patted Jax’s head as though he were Rufus. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. It’s more fun being a kid.”
“Yeah, right,” said Jax.
After she went back into the kitchen they stood staring over the table at the windows beyond, a stack of place mats and napkins in front of them. Cara could see through the trees in their backyard to the rain falling over the bay, freshwater joining the salt ocean in a million minuscule pinpricks on the surface. Soon you wouldn’t be able to see out there at all; already dusk was coming on, and with all the dark clouds overhead it seemed even later.
The branches of the pines dipped and swayed, and beyond them the gray of water and sky seemed to combine without a line between them, into a vague mist.
“Is that what they really said?” he asked after a minute. “I’m not mature enough?”
Cara looked at his hurt face and was surprised, then felt a pang of shame that she hadn’t thought of his feelings.
“I was just making it up, mostly,” she said.
This was one of those times she needed him to keep his promise—his promise not to ping her.
“I mean,” she said, scratching a bite on her arm to give the impression she wasn’t focused on fibbing, “they did think you should be with kids your own age, though. They said you’d have no fun if you were with thirteen-year-olds. That it would be too weird.”
“But I get along with you,” he said. “You’re thirteen.”
“Come on, Jax,” she said gently. “That’s different. You know what I mean.”
He shrugged defensively and turned back to the window.
“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. She didn’t want to make him as nervous as she was about tonight, but she felt so unsure.… They had no idea what they were doing, after all. It was a giant shot in the dark. They were trusting that all this meant something. That it was real—not just a figment of her and Jax’s imagination, which it sometimes seemed to be—and that the signs they were finding were meant for them . “We’re going to be out there at night, with the rain and the lightning, and we’re taking the others, Hayley and Keat and Cory or whoever, without telling them what we’re there to do—maybe putting them in danger, even. And we don’t even know why,
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