As Far as the Stars Page 16

  He doesn’t answer.

  I get out my cell, swipe open the page from the CNN news and place the phone in his hands.

  ‘Have you seen this?’

  He shakes his head.

  And then he starts reading.

  His face freezes. Then he takes a breath. His eyes go massive behind his glasses.

  ‘The autopilot doesn’t just get disconnected,’ he says. ‘This doesn’t make any sense.’

  I don’t know what to say.

  ‘And if it had got disconnected, Dad would have noticed. He’s always checking things, even when he doesn’t have to. I’ve seen him work.’ He pauses. ‘Dad doesn’t get that stuff wrong.’

  ‘Everyone gets things wrong sometimes,’ I say gently.

  He shakes his head violently. ‘You don’t know Dad. You don’t know how he works.’

  I think about Mom. About how, until two years ago, I’d never seen her lose a case. And how it took her months to get over it when she did. How every time something related to the case was mentioned in the news or someone we knew brought it up by mistake, she’d kind of go into herself.

  Yeah, everyone messes up sometimes. Even those you think never will.

  ‘Why don’t you get back in the car,’ I say gently. ‘We’ll drive to Knoxville as planned. Keep an eye on the news. You can call the number UKFlyer gave us, see if they have any more information.’ I pause. ‘Whatever happens, you shouldn’t be on your own right now.’

  He stares at me. Like properly stares.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘You.’

  ‘What about me?’

  He keeps staring.

  ‘What about me?’ I ask again.

  ‘You’re so sure of everything.’

  I laugh. ‘Right now, I’m not sure of anything.’

  ‘But you make it feel like it’s going to be okay.’

  I pause and look right at him.

  ‘It is going to be okay.’

  ‘You see?’ he says. And then he shakes his head. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’

  ‘Thank you. I think. Now stop staring, it’s embarrassing.’

  But he doesn’t stop staring. And the thing is, I don’t really want him to. I want him to keep standing there, looking at me like he believes in me. Because right now, all I can think about is that I’ve screwed everything up. That Mom still doesn’t know what’s going on. That I’m scared to death that Blake won’t show up on time, even for the wedding, regardless of his promises. And worse, that something has happened to him.

  I step forward. Christopher’s so close I can feel his warm breath on my skin. I stare right into his eyes.

  ‘Just don’t keep the truth from me ever again,’ I say. ‘Promise?’

  Then I step back.

  My whole body spins. More, even than when I was standing on the top of that rock. I can still feel his breath on my skin – I can feel how it felt when he was close.

  ‘I promise,’ he says.

  ‘Good.’

  Then I turn around and go back to the car.

  He doesn’t move.

  ‘Are you coming?’ I throw over my shoulder.

  ‘Yes,’ he mumbles.

  And then I hear him pick up his backpack and stumble after me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  07.05 CDT 1-81

  We drive for while, not saying much. Christopher slumps beside me, drifting to sleep. I look at the clock on the dashboard. If I push myself and keep driving, through Knoxville, to Nashville I’ll make it in time for the rehearsal dinner. But what then? I’ll have to stand there, on my own, in that yellow dress, being stared at by my family and Stephen’s family and have to explain why Blake isn’t with me. And worse, I’ll have to explain that I still don’t know where he is or whether he’s even going to make it to the wedding. At least, if I don’t show up, if they think Blake and I are still on our way, they can go on with the party and all the preparations and get through the night, thinking that by morning, we’ll show up and that even if we’ve missed some of the stuff leading up to the wedding, we’ll be there for the important part. The vows. The I dos. Blake’s song.

  And if, in the meantime, Blake gets to the rehearsal dinner and I’m not there – big deal? They can go ahead without me. They’ll get over it.

  I see a turn-off ahead and remember how this, too, was a detour Blake liked to take. How he spent more of his life taking detours than actually getting anywhere.

  I take it as a sign and flip on the indicator.

  ‘You like hiking?’ I ask Christopher.

  Leda barks, like she’s answering for him. She has a tiny body and tiny legs but it’s like she’s got rocket fuel running through her veins. She can hike for hours, up the steepest hills, and not get tired.

  ‘Christopher?’

  But he’s already asleep.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ I whisper, taking the exit. ‘We’ll get some sleep and then I’ll show you the coolest view in the states of Virginia, Tennessee and North Carolina combined.’

  Christopher shifts slightly in his sleep. His head drops towards me.

  He’s in no rush to get to Atlanta, I think. His mom will still be there, whatever happens. And I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet. Maybe that, in the end, is why I take the detour.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  13.00 CDT Deer Ridge Trail, Cherokee National Forest, NC

  ‘Where the hell are we?’

  Someone’s nudging me. I try to swallow, but my throat’s dry. My eyeballs gummy with tiredness. I can feel the afternoon sun pounding down on us.

  ‘Air – what’s going on?’

  I rub my eyes and force them open.

  Christopher’s eyes dart around. One minute they’re on me, the next they’re taking in the dirt track and the map on the side of the road marking out the trail that will take us to the summit of Deer Ridge mountain.

  I glance at the clock on the dashboard. 12 pm. We must have slept for hours.

  If we’d followed Plan A, Christopher would be on a Greyhound heading to Atlanta by now and I’d be on my way to Nashville, in time for the rehearsal dinner.

  But while Christopher was sleeping, when I decided to take that turning, I ditched Plan A.

  ‘I thought we could do with a break,’ I say.

  ‘A break?’ He looks down the winding mountain track behind us. ‘There weren’t any rest stops off the highway?’

  ‘I wasn’t looking for a rest stop.’ I get out of the car and stretch my stiff legs. Leda jumps out too and runs around me in circles. Then she starts sniffing at the earth and wagging her tail. She remembers this place.

  ‘You coming?’ I ask Christopher.

  ‘Coming where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘You’re doing this again?’

  ‘No jumping off high ledges this time, I promise.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, I’m reassured.’

  I tilt my head to one side and smile. ‘Come on.’

  Finally, Christopher gets out too. He’s got a big crease mark from sleeping pressed up against his seatbelt.

  ‘So where are we?’ he asks.

  ‘Deer Ridge.’

  ‘And we’re here because?’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  He tries to smooth down his hair from where it’s got all smushed in his sleep, only it makes it worse – though it makes him look kind of cute, a bit like Leda actually, a dishevelled kind of cute.

  ‘I don’t understand, Air. I thought you had to get to Nashville in time for the rehearsal dinner.’

  ‘I decided not to go.’

  His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You decided not to go to the wedding?’

  ‘No, I’m still going to the wedding. But if I show up tonight, without Blake, everyone’s going to flip out. I want to give him some more time to get there. Otherwise the whole wedding will be ruined. Mom will send out a search party—’

  ‘Perhaps a search party would be a
good idea. For Blake.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  It’s the first time he’s challenged me about how I’m going about finding Blake.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Air – for someone not to be in touch. Someone who’s meant to be here already.’

  Leda comes and sits at my feet and looks up at me.

  I blink away Christopher’s words and shake my head.

  ‘Blake’s going to show up. And in the meantime, I’ve got to let my family believe that we’re coming.’ I swallow hard. ‘No search party.’

  Christopher nods and then kneels down and rubs the soft spot on the top of Leda’s head, a bit that’s a lighter brown, like it’s been bleached by the sun. Leda rests into him. She totally loves him.

  ‘You’re not sad you’ll miss the dinner?’

  ‘Sad? God no. I mean, of course, I should be there for Jude. But no, I hate those things. Dresses and sitting at a table for hours and being polite to relatives.’ I pause. ‘The only way I survive those things is if Blake’s there.’

  ‘You’re fine about going into space but you’re scared you won’t survive a family dinner on your own?’

  ‘Fear’s subjective.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Anyway, it looks like Blake’s not going to show for the dinner. Otherwise he would be there already. And I’m not showing up without him.’

  ‘And if, for some reason, he does show up – and you’re not there?’

  I give Christopher a big smile. ‘Win-win.’

  ‘Win-win?’

  ‘Everyone will be thrilled Blake’s there. No one will mind that I’m not. Not really. I’ll avoid the dinner. And I’ll still make it to the wedding, that’s the main thing, right?’

  ‘I think they’ll mind that you’re not there.’

  ‘Maybe. But they’ll get over it.’ I step closer to him and touch his arm. He flinches a little and the top of his cheeks go pink. ‘And you’re in no rush to get to your mom, are you?’

  He shakes his head. ‘No rush at all.’

  ‘So, I thought we could buy ourselves a few more hours.’ I swallow. ‘Before we say goodbye.’

  He looks up at me.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘So, you forgive me?’ I ask.

  ‘Forgive me?’

  ‘For driving you off course when you were sleeping?’

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well, then, I guess I forgive you.’

  Christopher look up at the tall pines, at the fierce blue sky, at the mountain track I drove up this morning and then at the opening of the trail which leads up to Deer Ridge.

  I look down at his flip-flops. ‘You’ve got some sneakers, right?’

  He nods. ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re going for a walk.’

  ‘A walk?’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  I grab a bag of kibble from the boot of the car along with a water bottle and fill Leda’s two bowls. She bounds past me and starts wolfing down the food. Then I grab a couple of cereal bars from the glove box and throw one at Christopher.

  ‘We’ll get a proper meal when we head back down the mountain. These should keep us going until then.’ I reach further into the glovebox and pull out two foil wrapped rectangles and throw one to him. ‘Oh, and for dessert.’

  He pushes his glasses closer to his eyes and turns over the wrapper. ‘Strawberry ice cream?’

  I nod. ‘From the Air and Space Museum. It’s delicious.’

  He scrunches up his nose.

  ‘Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,’ I say.

  ‘Can’t be worse than airplane food.’

  He puts the cereal bar and the astronaut ice cream in the pocket of his shorts. Then he grabs his backpack and pulls out a pair of sneakers. As he’s lacing them up, I say:

  ‘Oh, and another thing.’

  He stops lacing and looks up at me. ‘Do I want to hear this?’

  ‘You’re going to do some talking. Walking means talking. Or it does in my family.’ I look at the map at the side of the road. The squiggly green line mapping out the trail to the top of Deer Ridge.

  ‘It was Dad’s thing,’ I say. ‘He said it went back to ancient times. That when people had things weighing on their minds, they’d go out into nature and walk it out of their systems. When we were kids and he’d sense we were upset about something, he’d say: “Get on your hiking boots.” And he’d take us off. Sometimes for a hike around DC. Sometimes we’d take the car and go into the woods, further out. But it worked. Even if we had to walk in silence for a few hours, sooner or later we’d open up to him and by the time we got back, things would better.’

  It’s the reason we first came to this place, as a family. We were driving to visit Grandpa in Nashville and Jude, Blake and I were arguing in the back seat. Dad swerved off the highway and drove us up here and made us hike to the top of Deer Ridge until we’d stopped bickering and started talking to each other properly. When we got back in the car, we were nice to each other the rest of the way to Nashville. Or maybe we were too tired from the hike to argue. Whatever, it worked.

  ‘You’re taking me on a hike up a mountain so that I’ll talk?’ Christopher asks.

  ‘Kind of. The mountain’s cool anyway. But yeah, you could do with talking. You don’t do enough of it. Which is why you didn’t tell me about your dad. And if I’m going to have you in my car and drive you all this way –’ I swallow, my mouth still dry from sleep. ‘If we’re going to be friends – well, then you’re going to have to start telling me stuff. That’s how it works.’

  Christopher ties a knot in his laces and then stands up.

  Leda finishes her bowl of kibble, slurps some water and darts towards the trail. I put away her bowls, then I grab my telescope and swing it over my shoulder.

  ‘Ready?’ I say.

  ‘You know that I’ve talked more to you since we left DC than I have to basically any other human being in my whole life, right?’ Christopher says.

  I think about how I’ve probably talked to him more than anyone else outside my family. And how that’s a big deal too.

  ‘I’m honoured,’ I say.

  He gives me a sideways smile. ‘You should be.’

  ‘And now you’ve warmed up, you can do some more talking.’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Your brother’s right, you know.’

  My head snaps up.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You are FI – totally, unquestionably Fucking Infuriating.’

  I smile. ‘So that means you’re coming?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He smiles back, then reaches into the car, lifts his backpack onto his shoulder and steps towards me. I grab his hand and pull him towards the mouth of the trail.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  15.10 CDT Deer Ridge Trail, Cherokee National Forest, NC

  For a long time, we don’t actually do that much talking. It’s good to be out of the car, listening to woodpeckers high up in the trees; to our breathing, deep and steady at the effort of the climb. Sometimes we stop and stare, catching a glimpse of a view through the branches, our hearts speeding up at the thought of what it will be like when we get to the top.

  Leda keeps darting ahead of us and we have to call her back. She’s running off all that excess energy from being cooped up in the car for all those miles. And she’s excited to get to the top too. And there’s something else I’ve noticed too. Whenever we stop in a place where Blake would stop too – stop with her, when they did this route together – it’s like she’s looking for him.

  I brush away the thought. I don’t want Blake in my head right now.

  I stop and check my phone for the time. We’ve been walking for hours. It feels good to have left the world behind for a bit.

  Before I put my phone away again I notice the reception bars.

 
‘Thank God,’ I say.

  Christopher turns around. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Off grid.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘No one can get in touch with us now, not until we get back to the car.’ No messages from Mom. No panicking from Jude. No aching silence from Blake. And, though I wouldn’t say it to Christopher, no news from the plane either. For now, we can put it all down.

  I put my phone away.

  ‘Come on, let’s keep going, we’re nearly halfway.’

  ‘Nearly halfway? How long is this walk?’

  ‘It’s a hike, Christopher. Hikes take time.’

  ‘Okay, fine. But if we’re going to expend all this energy, I think we should stop for some of that delicious ice cream you mentioned,’ Christopher says.

  I swipe at his arm. ‘Hey, I told you not to knock it.’

  ‘I’m not. I could do with an ice cream break.’

  It comes back to me. That ironic tone that British people have so that you’re never quite sure if they’re kidding or not.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s have an ice cream break.’

  He nods and smiles and we find a log to sit on and ceremoniously unwrap our foil parcels. Christopher takes a bite. He makes his jaw work really hard, like a toffee’s got stuck between his molars. Then he swallows hard.

  ‘Wow,’ he says.

  I roll my eyes.

  ‘Seriously – wow. Strawberry polystyrene: who knew that that was what was missing from my life this whole time?’

  ‘Hey!’ I punch his arm again.

  He holds his hands up. ‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It does taste pretty good. In a weird kind of way.’ He takes another bite.

  We sit there, munching. Leda sniffs around at our feet for a while and then dashes into a bush after some critter or other.

  Christopher pulls a bottle of water out of his backpack and we take it in turns to sip, like I do when I’m hiking with Dad.

  Yeah, Dad would like Christopher. He’d make him laugh. And he’d like how calm he is. How he doesn’t make a drama out of everything just for the sake of it.

  ‘You must have seen some pretty amazing places,’ I say. ‘Travelling around with your dad for all those years, before you went to boarding school.’

  ‘I guess so.’