Tears spring to my eyes, unbidden. I definitely can’t move now.
“What that Craig guy said to you wasn’t just, like, teasing,” he continues. “It was cruel. You said you’re worried about destroying things, but some things need to be destroyed. That doesn’t make you a monster. Not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.”
We stand there for a moment, frozen in time. I am acutely conscious of the sun beating down on us, the sweat beading the back of my neck, the scent of jacaranda wafting through the air. And, of course, of his hand holding mine. His touch is light, his grip is loose—I could easily pull away if I wanted to.
And yet, I don’t.
Henry’s the one who finally breaks the spell, giving my hand a little tug forward, then dropping it.
“We should get moving,” he says, his voice overly bright—back to wearing that too-big costume. He walks ahead of me, his stride long, his steps jaunty. I almost expect him to start whistling. “I have no idea where I’m going,” he calls over his shoulder. “You gotta take the lead again.”
I shake myself out of my frozen stupor—as if an evil witch has released me from her curse—and jog back in front of him, self-consciously brushing my unruly hair forward so that, once again, he can’t see my face.
It takes us ten minutes more to reach the site of the old zoo, but it feels like ten years. We’re definitely about to be late. The sun is hazy in the sky now, the full power of its brightness beginning to dim. It bounces off those jagged rock formations in dreamy patches of light.
This old site has always fascinated me—there’s a sense of abandonment and decay, all too apparent from the fading slashes of graffiti sweeping over some of the old sun-bleached orange-brown animal enclosures and the rickety picnic tables covered in the gossamer film of spiderwebs. And yet, there is also something about it that’s indisputably alive—the air feels heavier when you enter the space, the chorus of bug chitterings seems to get louder, and I always half expect all that graffiti to come to life, leap off those surfaces, and envelop everything in its bright web of jagged lines.
It’s almost like the old zoo is begging not to be forgotten, even though it no longer serves its original purpose and never will again.
The area is fairly deserted as Henry and I approach—there’s a mom trying to get her kids packed up and outta there, an old man taking a meandering walk with a sack of oranges slung over his shoulder . . .
And then the old man moves out of the way to reveal a slim figure in a wispy white summer dress with a flowing mane of raven hair. Her back is to us, and she’s standing very still.
Waiting.
My footsteps slow, even as my heart speeds up. And I swear a glow surrounds this figure, calling out to me. My heartbeat is so loud, I can hear it in my ears, pounding relentlessly through my bloodstream, syncing with each step forward.
I imagine mere milliseconds into the future, the figure turning and seeing me, her eyes lighting up as the glow emanating from her surrounds us both—
“Rika,” Henry says—and he sounds as excited as I feel. “I think that’s . . .”
Then she actually does turn. And her face does light up—for the man rushing toward her and sweeping her into a romantic embrace.
It’s not her.
It’s not Grace.
My head gets the message before my heart does, stopping me dead in my tracks once again.
And then my heart gets it, too, plummeting back through my chest, my stomach, right down to my shoes.
It’s not her.
“Oops, false alarm,” Henry says. “It really looked like her from the back, though.”
“Let’s go,” I say, my voice spilling out in a way that I want to be brisk and businesslike but sounds way too much like I’m trying not to cry. “It . . . it’s just like I thought. We’re too late, she’s not here, and . . . I already knew she wouldn’t be, I don’t know why I let myself . . . hope . . .”
“Hey.” Henry moves in front of me so I have to look at him instead of remaining fixated on Not Grace off in the distance. “Just because that’s not her doesn’t mean she isn’t here, period. I did some research into the old zoo last night—aren’t there other areas, like . . .” He gestures at the rock formations. “Inside? Or behind? That we can explore?”
“Yes,” I say, forcing my mind to focus, to stop my heart from wailing at me about its dashed hopes. “But why would she go deeper inside if the whole purpose is to meet up with me? Why would she hide?”
Henry purses his lips and turns to the rock formations, assessing their every crevice. “Maybe she doesn’t want anyone else to see her—since she’s gone off the grid and all. But also, this whole situation is weird, right?” he says. “Just flat-out, does not make sense, sounds like a totally made-up story weird. I don’t think we can apply logic to any of it. You said the zoo is like LA’s ancient ruins. So we have to consider ourselves true adventurers—explore every possibility.”
He grins at me—and his gaze is so earnest, I can’t help but feel that little flutter of hope rise in my chest again.
“I . . . okay,” I say, turning back to the rock formations. “So, yes, there are more parts of this we can explore. These enclosures were kind of built into a giant hill, and there’s this area that’s sort of inside the formations, that leads you to the upper part of the hiking trail—that’s where the graffiti game really comes out. It’s kinda hard to maneuver in, though—you might be a little, um . . . tall . . .”
Why
