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What they read, I think, explains the difference between Kristen and Tristan, which is that Kristen wants to grow into something, and Tristan thinks that right now, being young, is the most real thing. As Tristan put his paper into the fire, he said, “And I might add, I am in love with a beautiful woman. I pray that I will be able to survive losing her. And that she will come back to me if she can.”
Kristen tried to catch tears on her sleeve before anyone could see and said softly, “Your turn, Natalie.”
Natalie didn’t read her intention out loud, but she looked into Ha
Ha
It was my turn next. I was a little drunk from the punch, I guess, but the intention seemed important, like a real intention. I wanted to read it out loud, but I couldn’t do it. I opened my mouth, but my throat got dry, so I threw the paper into the candle and watched the flame grow with it.
It was Sky’s turn last. He didn’t read his out loud, either, of course. But when he put his paper in, instead of burning inside the candle like it was supposed to, part of the paper flamed up and flew right toward me! I scooted out of the way just in time, but everyone was screaming “Fire!” Tristan threw his ci
My favorite part of the night came next. We danced to “Sweet Child O’ Mine” in the living room, which was full of windows that show the city star-lights. Natalie twirled Ha
When the clock turned to midnight, we shouted and kissed, and do you know what? I saw Ha
I kissed Sky, and he pushed my hair back from my face, which was a little sweaty from the ci
When the song ended, Tristan started it over, and Kristen set the clock back three minutes, and we had another midnight, all hugging and kissing each other, and then we had another and another, until we were so tired from dancing that everyone collapsed.
I’d kept drinking and drinking the punch, and I guess by this time I must have been pretty drunk, because when the music finally stopped, the world was spi
Natalie and Ha
He looked at me for a moment, deciding. “If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?”
I nodded that I would.
“My intention was to learn how to feel again like I felt when I was eleven and my dad took me to my first concert. The Stones. I wasn’t even into music then. But something about that night, it got into me. My intention was not to hate him so much that I can’t remember that feeling, and feel it again sometime.”
“What was the feeling?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Like loving something so much that you want to create it. I mean, not it exactly, but like you want to do something. I mean, I was eleven. I don’t know if I knew that then. But I knew that it was the best night of my life.”
I wanted to hold his heart in mine and to make a safe place for it. “You’re going to create something great. You’ll be an amazing writer.”
Sky smiled at me. “Your turn,” he said. “What was yours?”
“It was sort of long. It was about this John Keats poem that we read in English, the one that ends with ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty.’ I’ve been thinking about what that means. And then, when we were writing stuff down, I thought I understood it all of a sudden. The intention said, ‘Truth is beautiful, no matter what that truth is. Even if it’s scary or bad. It is beauty simply because it’s true. And truth is bright. Truth makes you more you. I want to be me.’”
When I finished, I was waiting for Sky to say something, but he just looked at me for a minute. “That’s pretty,” he finally answered, “but I don’t really get it. I mean, what is the truth you’re scared of?”
I shrugged. I thought somehow he’d understand. I thought somehow those words would have been enough to tell him everything I couldn’t say. “I don’t know,” I replied.
“If you want to be you, you can tell me. I want to know you.”
I wanted to tell him, but the story seemed to start such a long time ago. It didn’t fit into my mouth. It didn’t fit into my brain, even. It started when I figured out how things could get broken. When suddenly May couldn’t protect me anymore. It started when knowing that was sadder than all of the things themselves. My thoughts were spi
“Laurel,” Sky said, “talk to me. Stop disappearing. Tell me something. Anything.”
I was spi
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you a secret.” I leaned into him and whispered, “I’m a fairy.”
Sky looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I said. “Watch, then, I’ll show you.” I got up and climbed onto the low wall at the edge of the balcony. “Close your eyes, and I’m going to fly off of this.” I ignored the voice in the back of my head that said, Only your sister has wings. It made me mad.
“Laurel, get down from there!” Sky said, from what felt like the distance.
“No. I want to fly. I want to fly like May,” I said, and started crying.
Sky came over and grabbed me, pulling me off the edge. I tried to hit him. I tried to hit him and hit him, but he wouldn’t let me. He held me tighter, so I couldn’t move.
And when I stopped, when I went limp in his arms, he lifted my face and said, “Laurel, I can’t do this. I can’t be with you if you’re going to be like this.”
“Be like what?” I asked. “How am I?”
“Like your sister,” he said.
“You don’t know what she was like. You didn’t really know her.” I paused. And then I asked, more quietly, “How did you know her?”
Sky just shook his head. “Come on,” he said. “You need to go to sleep.”
I was so tired all of a sudden, and so scared, and so ashamed. I could feel everything that’s bad about me and wrong and everything that I know I shouldn’t feel, all of the ways that I am angry at her rushing toward the surface. I followed him inside and lay on the couch. He brought me some water, and then he told me, “I’m going to go home.” I got the worst sinking feeling, like I’d ruined everything.