And why did you say that? I said that the first time I saw you, through the bus window. We’re studying Romeo and Juliet at school.”
“My mom made us memorize and recite.”
“We have to do that, too. It’s good for you I guess. Trains the brain. But I can’t see how I can memorize a long poem and then say it in front of people. I picked a short one.”
Ben leaned back on his elbows. He asked, “What poem did you choose?”
“‘Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost. ‘And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.’ It’s like saying a dream.”
“Because it’s easy,” Ben teased her.
“Because I love it. What about you, smart guy?”
“Watch for me by moonlight. Wait for me by moonlight. I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
“What is that?”
“Look it up,” said Ben, pulling up the collar on his leather jacket with one finger and bending down to kiss Merry’s nose. He didn’t touch her, but again, she felt that glow, that strange, golden sense of being claimed and loved. The awkward, stiff-lipped, eighth-grade kisses from Will and Dane were nothing like this. Without laying a hand on her, Ben made her feel like a woman, a woman in blossom. “Will you be safe here? Do you want me to sit outside and watch out for you?”
She sighed and said, “No. I’m fine. Thanks, though. I’ll see you later.”
“You can bet on it,” Ben said, sprinting down the steps. “I’ve got your glove. I found it on the porch! You must have dropped it coming in.”
“Give that back,” Merry said, half teasing.
“It smells like you,” he said and took off down the street at a jog.
Meredith had to get inside and think.
As she stood, she was suddenly dizzy and her last thought was, No ... no, what was this?
The land was like a park, but surrounded by twisting, broad-leafed, unfamiliar trees, hung with vines. The grass was worn away, but beautiful birds bounced on the branches of the trees. Wearing a helmet, his face smeared with grease and streaked with sweat, Ben was saying, “Come on, buddy. Just a few more feet. Just a few more feet. ” All around him in the dust, something struck like hail, sending up showers of dirt. “Come on,” Ben said, throwing himself down on his face and covering the back of his head with his hands. It was a game, a sport of some kind. There was a goal everyone was headed for. Everyone needed a helmet. Everyone was filthy. The ground was wet and slick. And Ben looked frightened—frightened and terribly sad.
“Merry, are you coming in?” Adam said. “Are you okay, ’Ster?”—a word he used only when he was feeling especially tender or shaky. Merry guessed that he felt both.
“I’m fine, Adam Ant. I just was out here trying to get some air. I’m learning to ... um ... meditate. So I don’t talk so much.”
“Well, you looked like you got the hang of the trance thing. And you got a lot of it. Air. I could hear you talking to someone under my window.” Adam liked his room cold and always kept his window cracked open. Campbell went in and closed it before she went to bed, but she wasn’t at home. Merry hadn’t figured on him opening his window and eavesdropping.
“I don’t really like being alone in the house right now,” Adam said. For a twelve-year-old guy, this was a huge admission. Merry thought he really must have been scared.
“It’s morning!” she said. “We’re both here.”
“Mallory’s asleep like a dead person. And it’s a creepy time of year.”
“Winter?” Meredith said, incredulous. Adam loved winter—skiing, Christmas, snow days.
“When we were alone here last night, I heard things outside,” Adam told his sister. “Okay? It creeps me out. I could hear ... possums and bats and junk. And voices. After Luna left. Creepy voices.”
“And bison, I bet,” Meredith said, teasing. She prayed, Don’t let him be like Mallory and me.
“Go ahead and
“My mom made us memorize and recite.”
“We have to do that, too. It’s good for you I guess. Trains the brain. But I can’t see how I can memorize a long poem and then say it in front of people. I picked a short one.”
Ben leaned back on his elbows. He asked, “What poem did you choose?”
“‘Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost. ‘And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.’ It’s like saying a dream.”
“Because it’s easy,” Ben teased her.
“Because I love it. What about you, smart guy?”
“Watch for me by moonlight. Wait for me by moonlight. I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
“What is that?”
“Look it up,” said Ben, pulling up the collar on his leather jacket with one finger and bending down to kiss Merry’s nose. He didn’t touch her, but again, she felt that glow, that strange, golden sense of being claimed and loved. The awkward, stiff-lipped, eighth-grade kisses from Will and Dane were nothing like this. Without laying a hand on her, Ben made her feel like a woman, a woman in blossom. “Will you be safe here? Do you want me to sit outside and watch out for you?”
She sighed and said, “No. I’m fine. Thanks, though. I’ll see you later.”
“You can bet on it,” Ben said, sprinting down the steps. “I’ve got your glove. I found it on the porch! You must have dropped it coming in.”
“Give that back,” Merry said, half teasing.
“It smells like you,” he said and took off down the street at a jog.
Meredith had to get inside and think.
As she stood, she was suddenly dizzy and her last thought was, No ... no, what was this?
The land was like a park, but surrounded by twisting, broad-leafed, unfamiliar trees, hung with vines. The grass was worn away, but beautiful birds bounced on the branches of the trees. Wearing a helmet, his face smeared with grease and streaked with sweat, Ben was saying, “Come on, buddy. Just a few more feet. Just a few more feet. ” All around him in the dust, something struck like hail, sending up showers of dirt. “Come on,” Ben said, throwing himself down on his face and covering the back of his head with his hands. It was a game, a sport of some kind. There was a goal everyone was headed for. Everyone needed a helmet. Everyone was filthy. The ground was wet and slick. And Ben looked frightened—frightened and terribly sad.
“Merry, are you coming in?” Adam said. “Are you okay, ’Ster?”—a word he used only when he was feeling especially tender or shaky. Merry guessed that he felt both.
“I’m fine, Adam Ant. I just was out here trying to get some air. I’m learning to ... um ... meditate. So I don’t talk so much.”
“Well, you looked like you got the hang of the trance thing. And you got a lot of it. Air. I could hear you talking to someone under my window.” Adam liked his room cold and always kept his window cracked open. Campbell went in and closed it before she went to bed, but she wasn’t at home. Merry hadn’t figured on him opening his window and eavesdropping.
“I don’t really like being alone in the house right now,” Adam said. For a twelve-year-old guy, this was a huge admission. Merry thought he really must have been scared.
“It’s morning!” she said. “We’re both here.”
“Mallory’s asleep like a dead person. And it’s a creepy time of year.”
“Winter?” Meredith said, incredulous. Adam loved winter—skiing, Christmas, snow days.
“When we were alone here last night, I heard things outside,” Adam told his sister. “Okay? It creeps me out. I could hear ... possums and bats and junk. And voices. After Luna left. Creepy voices.”
“And bison, I bet,” Meredith said, teasing. She prayed, Don’t let him be like Mallory and me.
“Go ahead and
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