Beyond the Distance

Chapter 10

He left him in that store alone to fiddle with feathers and faux flowers in the uncharacteristically childlike manner Malick carried himself after Chris had given in to his demands. It was a terrible compromise. Chris didn't understand its significance, but he could already feel the consequences of his impatience with this kid. Scott will probably kill me. I know how much he hates Grosvenor, and this little tyrant is basically an extension of him. I couldn't just say 'no,' now could I? He raced through the streets toward the trolley stopped just ahead of him and cast quick, anxious glances back at the store to make sure Malick wasn't following him out—not that it mattered now that he knew where the party was, but a dirty feeling of guilt coursed through Chris's veins, and if he could just find a moment for himself, this sickly feeling might go away. He climbed into the trolley and took a seat, rubbing his face with his cool hands. Only when it started to move did he ease into his aloneness, and he let his guard down for the first time all day. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, his vision blurring as he strained to focus. He caught his breath and looked down at the bag that concealed Keona's present. How could I risk so much for this? I mean, it's not like it should have been a problem. It's mine. I bought it. I can do what I want with it. And... it's not like Keona has never worn blue amber before. He looked out the window at the passing houses as the trolley moved through a local neighborhood on its way toward the next stop across the street from the transport station. I have about twenty minutes to come up with something before Malick becomes a problem again. I need to... He sighed. I need to brace myself. There is no way this'll end well.

At the entrance gates to the Greens' house, Chris withdrew his phone and dialed Scott's number. He listened to the dial tone on the other end until there was a click, and Scott's voice broke through to tug on his nervous heart. "Hello."

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I'll open the gate for you."

"Okay," he replied as the call disconnected. The ache in his chest intensified, and he caught himself clutching his shirt over the pain, a trembling anxiety soaking him through with icy sweat. He glanced up to meet Scott's eyes peering across the black bars of the gate that divided them, the intensity in them flickering like a deep green fire. Such a discerning gaze would peer straight into his guilt and awkwardness, so he guarded himself against their penetration into his mind.

"You're later than I expected," Scott said when Chris slipped through the gates.

He feigned a smile. "Yeah, I had an errand to run for my parents. I had to take the trolley deeper into town. It took me out of the way a bit."

"That's fine," Scott replied as the two of them walked beside one another, although Scott's gait was slightly quicker, and Chris stared, mesmerized by the smooth sheen in Scott's hair that draped his shoulders. Scott continued: "We haven't seen you around in a while. Have you been doing alright?"

"Of course," he lied. "Why do you ask?"

Scott turned a melancholic expression toward him and searched his face. "The pallor in your skin, the darkness under your eyes. Your lips are thin and lacking color. Have you been sleeping okay?"

Chris hesitated. Not even his mother concerned herself with these details. He attempted to swallow down the dryness in his throat. "I guess my sleep could be better."

Scott's mouth tugged as he turned away.

He knows something's wrong. Chris made an effort to keep up with Scott's pace, which shouldn't have been difficult, as Scott was shorter than he was, but he was growing increasingly aware of the preoccupation he had with the little vial of tablets that shifted in his pocket with each step. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else. "So... Acton's come to stay, hasn't he?"

"Oh yeah, he's here."

Scott's casual disinterest made him continue. "It must be good to see him again after so many years."

"Yeah, his parents didn't like him coming around—not after my mother died, especially. But he's kept in touch—with Keona, mostly. They go out sometimes." After a beat: "In fact, I think you would see him more often than any of us did—at rehearsals and performances with the orchestras."

"Yeah, but it's been a few years now."

"So it has." Scott stopped before they reached the backyard, and his fascination with something else was undeniable. "You know, I had a conversation with my good friend Grosvenor earlier today, just before I came home, and he just happened to bring up your name. Something about responsibility or trust or something—I can't remember entirely. His words are mostly worthless, but he knew about this party and your invitation to it. Have you talked to Grosvenor lately?"

"No, not at all. Why would I do that?"

He sighed. "What about his son? He mentioned a little something about him in the same conversation. Any relevance?"

Chris shook his head. "Not really. I mean, he goes to the Academy with me, and we stay in the same dorm during the semester, but that's about it. I just see him around sometimes."

"I would hate to think that they may be using you to get information about my family. You're not volunteering information to them, are you?"

"No, of course not. That would betray your trust."

"Sure. You should probably watch yourself. Maybe they're getting their information from someone else, like a friend of yours at the Academy. I don't know. Just try to keep that in mind when you talk about me or Keona. Make Grosvenor's job a bit harder."

"I agree. They don't need any help."

"They certainly don't." And then they proceeded, and Scott's tone brightened. "We just got our dinner set up about five minutes before you called, so everyone is probably in the kitchen filling their plates. Keona wants to have her cake and gifts out under the pavilion, so you could put your bag on the table out there with the others if you'd like."

Illuminated by the sunlight, the pavilion was wrapped in flowered vines. It glowed a heavenly white and brought back a rush of nostalgia from their teenage years when he and Scott spent their days out under the domical ceiling. Scott hadn't looked at him again since they started walking, so Chris stared somberly at the back of his head, the rope handle of his gift bag chafing against his fingers. "I think I'll hold on to it. It's kind of special, and I don't want to lose sight of it."

"Very good. Keona will be happy to see you." He smiled and ushered Chris inside.