Page 44 of Fragments of the Lost
Max took a running leap straight from the road, pushing off the guardrail with his back foot, tucking into a cannonball that sent ripples through the water when he hit the surface.
We swam for the riverbank, and when we were back on shore, Caleb said, “Told you she’d do it.”
Max grunted and climbed back up to take another jump. Caleb looked at me, like I’d done something to make him proud. “Sophie never jumped,” he whispered.
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t jump at all. That all I did was tell someone else to let go, and gravity took over from there. Max did it for me, holding on to me until I was ready. I leaned forward, and then I fell.
—
In Caleb’s room now, sitting on the edge of his bed, I smell the river, as if we’re still there, or as if it’s here instead. I feel the water moving faster, the current picking up. And then I picture darkness, nothing but water, pushing us faster, pulling us under.
I tear open the drawer of his bedside table, thinking there might be pieces of whatever had broken inside. But it’s practically empty. There’s a pencil, a paper clip, a list written in his handwriting, crumpled up and flattened again. It looks like it’s a list from the end of last school year, projects due. It saysEnglish Final. Library. Science Final. 22. Card for J.
I think back to June, when we were taking finals, wondering what22could stand for. And what he could’ve been giving me a card for. I can’t think of anything. I don’t remember any cards at all. And then it becomes clear. TheJis for Julian. The 22nd was the date. The day of his graduation party.
—
Caleb hadn’t shown up. I tried not to let it show on my face, when Julian was so happy, and his friends—our friends—were all there. Knowing how hard they’d all worked for this moment, and my parents too, and all the mixed emotions that came with getting him to this point but also letting himgo.
I tried not to let it ruin my time, either. But it was late afternoon and Caleb hadn’t been answering my texts or calls all day.
My dad was grilling and my mom was talking to the other baseball parents. I was checking on the drinks. I was getting more ice, when needed. I was answering the call ofJessa, can youthat I’d come to expect, and for once, I let it take the place of the circle of thoughts running through my head: Why wasn’t he here? Why didn’t he tell me? Why wasn’t he answering my calls?
“Jessa,” my dad called from the back sliding glass doors. “Can you do me a favor and check on the boys. Just make sure they’re not doing anythingtoostupid, okay?”
I stopped arranging fruit. “You’re going to have to definetoo stupid,Dad.”
“Just…,” he said, and he looked up at the sky for an answer, as if filtering an explanation for his teenage daughter was too much to ask. But I knew what he meant. There was an ice bucket of cheap beer that had recently gone missing from the back deck. There were sounds of cheering from the side yard. But he wanted to give them space. Let them celebrate.
“You mean, I should make sure they’re not, like, sacrificing virgins to the Greek gods or anything?” I’d said, trying for humor.
But his face turned red, almost scarlet, and I realized I’d used the V-word, which was strictly against protocol in father-daughter conversations.
“Something like that,” he said, taking the fruit platter from the counter.
Just then, Hailey walked in, in a sundress and ballet flats, red lipstick, wrapped gift in hand. I greeted her with a smile and our mission.
“Can you definetoo stupid?” she asked my father.
My dad groaned at the ceiling and mumbled to himself, and Hailey didn’t get why I was doubled over in laughter.
“We’re on it, Dad!” I called after him, as he carried the fruit out back.
Around the side of the house, in the flattened area sheltered by trees, Julian and some of his teammates were playing a pickup game of football. Except after a moment, I realized it wasn’t really a game of football—it was Julian trying to make it past a team of five alone.
“Hey, Julian,” Hailey called, and he paused, looking over his shoulder. “Need a teammate?”
He shook his head and took off, before getting brought down by Max and Liam, just shy of the makeshift end zone, his arm extended into the strip of grass between trees, which currently housed the missing cooler of beer.
“That counts,” he said, one hand inches from the container.
Max pulled a beer from the cooler, handing it to him. “Only because it’s technically your beer,” he said, and they laughed.
Max waved from the end zone, and Julian called, “Who’s next?” and Hailey turned to me with a grin. “Do you think this counts as too stupid?”
Hailey slipped off her shoes, held out her arm for the ball. “Over here,” she called. “Except we’re a team of two.”
I laughed, stepping out of my own shoes. But Julian shook his head. “Uh-uh. No.” He looked firmly at each of his friends.
