P. Hoover - Solstice

“No really. You’ve been looking at me funny all week.”

Have I been that transparent?

“You’re imagining things.” I reach up to her arm and feel her tattoo. “I’m just excited we got these.” But I pull my hands back when I touch her. With the temperature as high as it is, Chloe’s skin should be burning, but it feels cool.

“Yeah. I can’t believe you really did it,” she says.

My mouth falls open. “You thought I’d chicken out?”

“Let’s face it, it’s really the only rebellious thing you’ve done since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I think about Reese and Shayne and the mixed-up night before. Will Chloe be mad I kissed Reese? I’ll figure out a way to bring it up slowly and then I’ll tell her I have no interest I him.

“So what gives? Why are you looking at me so funny?”

I’m not going to tell her about Tanni. But still…

“Do you believe in fate, Chloe?” As I say it, the heat seems to press down on me.

She kicks the water with her foot. “Like whether we were fated to be friends?”

“Kind of.” I splash some water across onto the rocks, watching it dry almost as soon as it hits. I see a tiny pool of fish, swimming circles and trying to reach the next part of the creek. So many fish have died off; only the tiniest ones still live here.

Chloe rubs my tattoo, and again, I’m struck by how cold she is. Like her body isn’t processing the heat at all. She’s not even sweating. “Yeah. I think we were destined to be friends,” she says. “I felt that way from the first day we met.”

I felt that way, too. On my first day of public school after being homeschooled my entire life, I was sure I’d talk to no one the entire day. In fact, I vowed I wouldn’t. Since my best friend Charlotte had died in sixth grade, I kept my distance from people.

I decided I wouldn’t make friends, and my mom would be happy. And if my mom was happy then I could keep this small semblance of freedom. But no sooner had I found a seat on the shuttle than Chloe plunked herself next to me.

“You aren’t going to hog the whole seat, are you?” Chloe asked.

I shook my head, and down she sat.

I did my best to keep my mouth shut, but Chloe had been persistent.

“Are you new?” she asked.

I nodded, still trying to keep my vow of silence.

“So where did you move from?” she asked.

“Chicago,” I finally said, thinking I could end the conversation even though this girl seemed kind of cool. “Homeschooled.”

“Wow. Your whole life?”

“Yeah. Even before that when I lived in Virginia,” I said.

Chloe offered me a Life Saver then, giving me my choice of colors. I reached for the one on the top, trying to be polite.

She scrunched up her nose. “You really like the green ones?”

I hated the green ones. They reminded me of fish scales. “No, but that’s okay.”

She grabbed the green Life Saver out of my fingers and pitched it out the shuttle window, which shocked me since littering was way illegal. “Pick your favorite color,” she said.

I took a red one. And we’d been friends ever since.

Movement off in the tall trees catches my eye. I look through the barren trunks but see nothing. Not even leaves rustling. I slowly realize the whole world is still. And hot.

“How about death?” I say. My chest tightens even as the words come out. But I can’t stop myself now. “Do you believe fate determines ahead of time when someone will die?”

Chloe turns my way, and our eyes meet. She stares at me, not saying a word. I notice her orange bandana holding back her hair, matching the burning sun overhead. She’s stopped smiling, and I know she’s thinking about my question.

She stands up and moves farther down the creek. It narrows to a trickle here, hardly moving over the rocks. They say the creek’s been drying out for years, and once it stops flowing, the clean water source to Austin will be cut off. Chloe squats down and puts her hands in the water, bringing it up to her face, but instead of drinking it, she lets it slip through her fingers.

Chloe will die.

The light shifts, and I imagine her there, lying dead in the creek, facing downward, looking toward Hell.

Chloe will die.

I close my eyes and suck in a breath. I smell the earth around me—the rocks and the soil and the tree bark. And I smell something else. Pungent and odorous. The thick smell of rotting flesh.

“I don’t know,” Chloe says.

I’ve forgotten she hasn’t answered. I try to push the smell away. “You don’t know if you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know if death is known ahead of time.” She reaches down again, scooping more water with her hands and letting it slip away.

Far off, in the distance, the sirens wail. I pull out my FON and confirm the deadly temperature of one hundred and twenty-two. The heat bubble has come.

I jump to my feet. “We need to go, Chloe. We need to get out of here.”

The rotting smell is even stronger. I look at the trees, and this time I see a man, short and strong, and when he moves to the side, I see wings attached to his back. White as clouds, and so long, the tips nearly touch the ground behind him.

He ignores me. He’s looking right at Chloe.

Chloe will die.

The man takes a step toward Chloe. She’s looking right at him but doesn’t seem to notice he’s there. From overhead comes the thump of the disperser missile being fired. I brace myself. All I know is I need to get Chloe away from here.

“Chloe! We need to go now!” I move to take a step toward her, but the heat presses in on me. The air’s so thick, I’m having a hard time finding oxygen.

Chloe opens her mouth to answer me, but her words won’t come either. And for the first time, panic crosses her face.

“Run, Chloe!” I know the man approaching her is Death. He’s coming for Chloe.

She doesn’t move; it’s like her mind has stopped processing the world around her. The winged man takes another few steps, gliding so smoothly across the earth, it’s like he’s flying. His rotten smell permeates the air. The heat descends, and Chloe falls to the ground.

Chloe will die. The voice in my mind chants over and over.

“Shut up!” I can’t take it. I need to reach Chloe before Death does. I suck in the hot air and begin to run. But the winged man is already there, by her side, and he’s grabbed her wrist.

Her face tightens, and the color drains out. I’ve almost reached her when I stop in the wet bed of the creek and see Shayne. I don’t wonder why he’s here; right now, I don’t care.

“Help me!”

He hears me. I know he does. The winged man shimmers and begins to fade. Chloe’s fading, too. I cross the distance and break their arms apart. The man fights me but lets go with a glance over my shoulder. And then he stands there watching. I manage to get my hands under Chloe’s armpits and drag her from the water. She’s pale and cold, but she’s still breathing. My face is covered in tears, but I don’t take the time to wipe them away as I sink down next to her.

“I can’t.” Shayne says, standing next to the winged man.

I look up, meeting his eyes.

“Can’t what?” I say.

“I can’t help you. She’s supposed to die.”

“No! She’s not. She’s alive.” Chloe has to be alive. I know it. Why did she have to ignore the heat advisory anyway?

He shakes his head and places a hand on her limp chest. “She shouldn’t be.” Under his palm, I see her chest rise and fall, erratic. She’s not breathing enough. And she’s pale. Way too pale.

I stand and punch at him with my fists, but he catches them.

“She can’t die.”