My mind wandered as I walked, and I grew curious. I hadn't forgotten the conversation we'd had by the sea cliffs-I'd been waiting for him to bring it up again, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.
"Hey . . . Jake?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"How are things . . . with Embry? Is he back to normal yet?"
Jacob was silent for a minute, still moving forward with long paces. When he was about ten feet ahead, he stopped to wait for me.
"No. He's not back to normal," Jacob said when I reached him, his mouth pulling down at the corners. He didn't start walking again. I immediately regretted bringing it up.
"Still with Sam."
"Yup."
He put his arm around my shoulder, and he looked so troubled that I didn't playfully shake it off, as I might have otherwise.
"Are they still looking at you funny?" I half-whispered.
Jacob stared through the trees. "Sometimes."
"And Billy?"
"As helpful as ever," he said in a sour, angry voice that disturbed me.
"Our couch is always open," I offered.
He laughed, breaking out of the unnatural gloom. "But think of the position that would put Charlie in-when Billy calls the police to report my kidnapping."
I laughed too, glad to have Jacob back to normal.
We stopped when Jacob said we'd gone six miles, cut west for a short time, and headed back along another line of his grid. Everything looked exactly the same as the way in, and I had a feeling that my silly quest was pretty much doomed. I admitted as much when it started to get darker, the sunless day fading toward a starless night, but Jacob was more confident.
"As long as you're sure we're starting from the right place . . ." He glanced down at me.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Then we'll find it," he promised, grabbing my hand and pulling me through a mass of ferns. On the other side was the truck. He gestured toward it proudly. "Trust me."
"You're good," I admitted. "Next time we bring flashlights, though."
"We'll save hiking for Sundays from now on. I didn't know you were that slow."
I yanked my hand back and stomped around to the driver's side while he chuckled at my reaction.
"So you up for another try tomorrow?" he asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Sure. Unless you want to go without me so I don't tie you down to my gimpy pace."
"I'll survive," he assured me. "If we're hiking again, though, you might want to pick up some moleskin. I bet you can feel those new boots right now."
"A little," I confessed. It felt like I had more blisters than I had space to fit them.
"I hope we see the bear tomorrow. I'm sort of disappointed about that."
"Yes, me, too," I agreed sarcastically. "Maybe we'll get lucky tomorrow and something will eat us!"
"Bears don't want to eat people. We don't taste that good." He grinned at me in the dark cab. "Of course, you might be an exception. I bet you'd taste good."
"Thanks so much," I said, looking away. He wasn't the first person to tell me that.
9. THIRD WHEEL
TIME BEGAN TO TRIP ALONG MUCH MORE QUICKLY THAN before. School, work, and Jacob-though not necessarily in that order-created a neat and effortless pattern to follow. And Charlie got his wish: I wasn't miserable anymore. Of course, I couldn't fool myself completely. When I stopped to take stock of my life, which I tried not to do too often, I couldn't ignore the implications of my behavior.
I was like a lost moon-my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation-that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity.
I was getting better with my bike, which meant fewer bandages to worry Charlie. But it also meant that the voice in my head began to fade, until I heard it no more. Quietly, I panicked. I threw myself into the search for the meadow with slightly frenzied intensity. I racked my brain for other adrenaline-producing activities.
I didn't keep track of the days that passed-there was no reason, as I tried to live as much in the present as possible, no past fading, no future impending. So I was surprised by the date when Jacob brought it up on one of our homework days. He was waiting when I pulled up in front of his house.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Jacob said, smiling, but ducking his head as he greeted me.
He held out a small, pink box, balancing it on his palm. Conversation Hearts.
"Well, I feel like a schmuck," I mumbled. "Is today Valentine's Day?"
Jacob shook his head with mock sadness. "You can be so out of it sometimes. Yes, it is the fourteenth day of February. So are you going to be my Valentine? Since you didn't get me a fifty-cent box of candy, it's the least you can do."