As Far as the Stars Page 17

  ‘You didn’t like it?’

  ‘It was amazing – and I’m grateful, of course. I mean, what ten-year-old kid has been to the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China, Niagara Falls and the Galapagos Islands, and all the standard tourist places too – Venice, Paris, Berlin, Iceland…?’

  ‘You’ve really been to all those places?’

  ‘Those are just the highlights.’

  ‘Wow, that’s incredible.’

  ‘I guess so.’ He pauses. ‘But I’d have swapped it all in a second…’ His voice breaks off.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘It’s going to sound stupid.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘To get to do some of the boring stuff.’

  ‘The boring stuff?’

  ‘Spending time at home. Waking up late on a Saturday morning and watching TV in my pyjamas. Ordering pizza with Dad. Just hanging out.’

  ‘Well, you can come and do that with my family anytime. We have the local pizza delivery guy on speed dial.’

  He looks up at me and his eyes go sad and I feel bad for making a joke when he was trying to tell me something.

  ‘It’s the everyday stuff that matters. More than the Taj Mahal, right?’ I smile. ‘Even though the Taj Mahal does sound pretty cool.’

  He nods. ‘It is.’

  I hear voices behind us and then footsteps. A young couple walks past us. When they see us, they smile and nod their heads as a hello. I notice the woman’s eyes lingering on me – I look down and realise that I’m still wearing Christopher’s T-shirt and boxers. My face flushes red.

  ‘Beautiful day,’ the woman says.

  ‘Yes,’ Christopher answers.

  I think about how, for the rest of the world, this is just another beautiful day. All those billions of people on earth haven’t got a clue what’s going on in my life – or Christopher’s. How we’re going through all this stress and worry, how a plane has dropped out of the sky, how Blake’s disappeared off the face of the planet, and how that’s turned our lives upside down, but for most people – like this couple – they’ll never know. It doesn’t touch them.

  I get that feeling I sometimes get when I’m looking up through my telescope or when I’m sitting in the planetarium: a kind of sinking feeling as I realise how small we are. How, in the grand scheme of things, our lives are just a speck of dust in this huge universe.

  ‘See you at the top,’ the young man says and then they keep walking, holding hands, leaning their heads towards each other and picking up their conversation.

  Leda runs after them and bounces around them in circles so they can’t walk any further.

  I put two fingers in my mouth and whistle.

  ‘Leda! Back here!’ I yell.

  I go after her and grab her collar.

  ‘Sorry.’

  The man and the woman laugh and make a fuss of her.

  ‘We don’t mind,’ the woman says.

  ‘She likes to adopt people,’ I say.

  ‘Well, she’s very charming.’ The woman gives her another pat and stands up.

  I wonder how things would have turned out for Leda if Blake, Jude and I hadn’t found her that day at Leda Springs. Would anyone have picked her up? And how would her life have been different?

  I pull her back towards Christopher and we both sit down beside him. She slumps her body over him and he gives her long strokes from under her chin right across her body to the base of her tail.

  After a while, I say to him:

  ‘You know what you said, back then, about not having talked to anyone as much as you have to me?’

  He takes another sip of water, closes the lid, puts the bottle away.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Is that really true?’

  ‘Really true.’

  ‘What about your dad? You spent all that time together growing up, travelling around the world. You guys must have shared so much.’

  He leans back and looks up into the high branches of the pines.

  ‘We were never really alone. Just the two of us, I mean. Like I said, we didn’t do the everyday stuff. And when we were alone together, he didn’t like to talk much.’

  I wait for him to go on.

  ‘Travelling around – airports and planes and visiting places that he thought would educate me; there were always people around. And noise. And activity. When he was at work, he was in official mode, welcoming passengers, joking with the air stewards, giving updates from the cockpit. When we were visiting places, he’d talk loads about the history of what we were seeing, kind of like a lecture, I suppose. And then he’d get tired and go quiet. Really quiet. When we were driving on our own or hanging out in a hotel room, he sometimes didn’t say anything for hours.’

  My family never stops talking about their feelings and probing into each other’s business. Dad’s the quietest one but even he likes to know what’s going on with us.

  ‘I guess it’s kind of ironic,’ he says. ‘If you count up the hours, Dad and I have probably spent more time together than just about any father and son. But when I see other kids with their parents – even at boarding school, now – they seem to have a closer relationship than we do. It’s like time doesn’t really matter. Not if you’re not really tuned into each other.’

  Christopher coughs and then takes another sip of water, like his throat’s sore from all the talking.

  ‘That sounds lonely,’ I say. ‘Being with one person all that time and not feeling close to them.’

  His eyes go far away. ‘Yeah, I guess it is.’

  ‘And you didn’t try to talk to him?’

  ‘Maybe, when I was younger, but I guess I soon worked out that he preferred not to chat about personal stuff, or boring, everyday stuff. So, I stopped asking questions. Let him do his thing. It was easier.’

  He looks down into his hands.

  ‘I think he liked it that way,’ he says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Not being alone with me. Not talking to me.’

  I feel a lump in my throat.

  ‘I’m sure he cared about you, Christopher. He was crap at showing it, that’s all.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘He was probably so wrapped up in showing you all this cool stuff that he forgot to check in. And maybe he felt guilty – about things not working out with your mom—’

  ‘Or maybe we just aren’t suited.’

  ‘Suited?’

  ‘Just because he’s my dad, it doesn’t mean we’re made to get along.’

  I’d never thought of that. Sure, kids and parents and siblings sometimes don’t get on. But they’re still family. They’re biologically wired to be together. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?

  Leda comes back out from a bush, her fur knotted with leaves and twigs and pine needles. She bounds up to Christopher, puts her paws up on his knees and licks at his hands.

  I think about getting up and walking on but words push up my throat.

  ‘He just needs to see you, Christopher,’ I say. ‘I mean, really see you.’

  He looks at me and blinks.

  ‘Like I see you,’ I say. ‘Or the bits you’ve let me see anyway. Because I reckon that if he did then he’d want to spend every second being with you and talking to you and getting to know you.’

  Once my words are out, I can hear them echoing between us and I’m scared that I’ve said too much and totally put him off. And worse: that he’s not going to want to tell me any more stuff.

  ‘I’m sorry—’ I start.

  He looks up at me and shakes his head.

  ‘Don’t be,’ he says. ‘Don’t be sorry for anything.’

  For a while, we sit there, staring at the pine needles and the track ahead of us. Then I put my hand on his.

  ‘Shall we keep going?’ I ask.

  He nods.

  We get up, brush down our shorts and pick up the trail, Leda jumping up and down between us.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

 
17.54 CDT

  It’s good to make progress, to feel the mountain disappearing under our feet. The trees start thinning the higher up we go and there’s a change in the air too, how it makes my head go lighter.

  Leda keeps darting ahead of us or disappearing under bushes, chasing critters.

  ‘So, you were really fine with it, not going to school growing up?’ I ask.

  ‘We’re still talking about me?’

  ‘We’re not nearly done.’

  ‘FI,’ he whispers.

  ‘I’m just getting to know you. It’s what people do.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So, tell me, I’m interested. It must have been weird, having your dad as your school. Not going to classes with kids your age and stuff.’

  ‘It was all I knew,’ he says. ‘And Dad said I was lucky. That by travelling, I was seeing the world for real, not just in books. He said that I was going to “The School of Life”.’ He puts on a grand voice. ‘I guess I believed him.’

  I realise that’s what I haven’t been able to put my finger on – that weird contradiction in Christopher, how part of him seems totally wise about the big world stuff, how calm he is, how he seems to let things float off him, stuff that rubs the rest of us up the wrong way, but how he’s totally clueless at the same time. Because, I guess he’s never had the chance to be a kid. To make friends. To have a crush on a girl and ask her out and then break up. All that mindless shit that takes up every waking minute of most of a kid’s life growing up.

  And for a second, I kind of envy him.

  ‘That’s allowed – travelling around rather than going to class?’ I ask.

  ‘Dad had to prove that I was following a curriculum, covering the basics – but as long as that was in place, it was fine.’

  ‘And did it work? Your Dad’s philosophy? Do you understand life?’

  ‘What? You can’t feel the deep wisdom radiating off me?’

  ‘Yeah, I can, actually.’ I pause. ‘It’s just—’

  ‘It’s not enough, right? That’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘No—’

  ‘I mean, what’s the point in learning to meditate with Tibetan monks if you can’t even talk to a girl.’

  ‘You are talking to a girl.’

  ‘Under duress.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. Not anymore.’

  ‘Not anymore?’

  ‘It’s hard for me – at first. To make small talk. To walk up to someone and start a conversation.’

  His shoulders slump and his pace slows, like his thoughts are weighing him down.

  ‘Was it hard starting school, after all that time?’

  He nods but doesn’t look up.

  ‘A boys’ boarding school, you said?’

  He nods again.

  ‘I’ve heard those can be rough. Dad went to one here in the States. He’s still scarred by the experience.’

  ‘It’s not that bad. They leave me alone, mostly. I’m lucky I joined in the sixth form; everyone’s grown up a bit by then. We get our own rooms. And if you do your work the teachers leave you alone too.’

  ‘So, you haven’t made any friends then?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re not sure?’

  ‘I sit next to people in class. And at meal times. I do projects with other guys. Sometimes we talk in the TV room. If that’s having friends, then I guess so, yeah.’

  That’s not having friends. Not even close.

  I step towards him and take his hand lightly. He stares down at my fingers.

  ‘We’re friends,’ I say.

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We haven’t known each other for long.’

  ‘It’s like you said, Christopher – knowing someone isn’t about time.’

  He looks up at me. His eyes are such a pale grey and so wide it hurts to look at them.

  ‘I said that?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, you did.’

  I stop walking, put my hands on my hips and bend over. The air’s getting even thinner and we’ve been walking fast. Every time I look up, my head spins.

  ‘You okay?’ Christopher asks.

  ‘Yeah – just catching my breath.’

  I close my eyes and listen. To my breathing. To Christopher’s. And beyond that, to the long, thin silence between the mountain ranges.

  Then my eyes dart open.

  ‘Where’s Leda?’

  I spin round.

  Christopher looks round too. ‘She was here a moment ago—’

  ‘When?’ I snap at him. ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘I – I don’t know. She kept darting off. But then she’d come back. I don’t know – a few minutes?’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Dogs know how to come back, right? She’ll smell her way back to us.’

  I shake my head. Tears dart into my eyes. The dizziness gets worse.

  ‘She gets confused – she’s not good at finding her way back to places.’

  Christopher looks down the path where we came and then back up to where it keeps climbing up the mountain.

  ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ I kick at a stone.

  Leda’s tough and she can keep going for hours, but the thinness of the air up here will be getting to her. She’ll get disoriented, especially if she can’t find us.

  ‘I bet she’s at the top already,’ Christopher says.

  I keep shaking my head. ‘She could be anywhere.’

  ‘Yeah. But she knows the path, right? You said you brought her here before – with Blake and your dad. Don’t dogs remember the trails they’ve walked, like for ever?’

  ‘You’ve seen Leda – she’s a total nutcase. Who knows what she remembers and doesn’t remember.’

  ‘She’s a dog, Air. She’s hard wired to remember.’ His voice is low and steady and it calms me down for a second. ‘We’ll keep walking. And we’ll find her.’

  ‘But how do you know – what if she’s run back down or thrown herself off one of the ledges or got stuck in a bush?’

  He steps forward and this time he’s the one who takes my hand.

  ‘We’ve got to make a decision and I reckon that the best decision, right now, is to keep walking. If she’s not up there, we’ll turn back.’

  I take a slow breath in and out to calm myself.

  ‘Okay?’ He searches my face.

  I take another breath. ‘Okay.’

  Chapter Thirty

  20.07 CDT Deer Ridge Summit

  It takes us twice as long to get to the top than it should have done – every time we saw a trail leading off the main path or heard a rustle in the bush we detoured to check whether Leda was there.

  I’ve shouted and whistled so hard and so long that my mouth feels like it’s on fire.

  ‘Leda!’ I yell, as we come out into a clearing.

  And then we both stop.

  It’s there. The summit. The long, smooth plane at the top of Deer Ridge.

  I hear Christopher take in a sharp breath.

  ‘Wow.’

  The sun sets early here – it’s already beginning to sink behind the mountain range, a huge orange ball.

  And then I snap back into the present. I scan the ridge. But she’s still not there.

  My stomach turns inside out. Maybe we missed her on the way up. Maybe some crazy mountain animal got hold of her. Or maybe she tried to make her way back down to the car.

  A bit further along, I see the couple who walked past us. They’re sitting on a slab of stone looking out at the sunset.

  ‘I’ll go and ask them if they’ve seen her,’ Christopher says gently.

  I don’t answer. I know it’s stupid to be pissed at him but he’s the one who said to come up here. And I trusted him. And she isn’t here. And I know it’s not his fault but I can’t help feeling angry at the time we’ve lost.

  When I don’t answer, Christopher walks off.

  I turn away from hi
m and look back out at the mountains – layers of blue tissue paper thinning out towards the sky, the sun almost gone now. If we’re going to make it back to the car before dark we need to start heading down now.

  Which is what Jude said to Blake the last time the three of us came up here.

  ‘We need to get back – it’s dangerous, being out here after nightfall. We won’t see the path.’

  ‘We’re here to see the stars, Jude – dark’s kind of the point.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that when we set off,’ Jude said.

  Blake and I had found that when it came to Jude, seeking forgiveness was usually better than asking permission. She worries about things. If we told her the details of our plans, she’d put a stop to them before we even got started.

  ‘It’ll be worth it,’ Blake said to Jude, his smile wide and charming. ‘You only live once, sis.’

  Jude hung around for another half hour and then got cross and stomped off back down the mountain by herself. And took a wrong turning. And got like a million bug bites because it was bug season. And Blake and I got down the mountain before her and when she joined us, she was furious. Because if she’d waited for us, she’d have been fine. And because, once again, she felt left out.

  I feel a pang of guilt now. At how she must have felt all those times when Blake and I went off together. And how even when she was with us she was always out on a limb by herself.

  And the thing was that, most of the time, Jude was right about things. Blake’s decisions were crazy and irresponsible and ended up inconveniencing people and costing Mom and Dad loads of money they didn’t have when they had to bail him out. If it was Blake getting married, Jude would have turned up on time. She’d have turned up earlier than anyone. Made sure everything was organised. Done a load of work so that his day was perfect. And even if she didn’t like Leda, she would never have let her get lost.

  Maybe all that fun, charming, who-gives-a-shit kind of attitude isn’t so cool. Maybe it’s more people like Jude that we need, not Blake. Dependable people. People who make plans and stick to them and show up and keep each other safe.

  I close my eyes and swallow hard. God, everything’s such a mess.

  ‘Hey, Air!’ Christopher calls over to me.

  I open my eyes and look over to him.

  The couple’s standing up now, putting their backpacks back on.