Page 61 of Safety Net
"Oh, sure." Lincoln shrugged, expression amused—and perhaps a bit surprised—at my chattering. But our kiss and every second we've spent together had woven this tapestry of security. There was no expectation to say something wildly meaningful with him. I'm all relaxed, limbs at ease, unhurried thoughts, and deep breaths. I was in the present moment, and it was liberating. It was what I imagined a healthy home should feel like.
"I wanted to be Bubbles. And I can hold my breath for about a minute."
"You do have Bubbles' energy," he agreed.
Our group stopped in front of an abandoned building that used to be a furniture shop. I caught bits of information on how the family that moved there had only been seen at night. Now, every Halloween, a small candlelight could be seen flickering in the window on the second floor for a few minutes. Because, for some reason, all ghosts agreed to sync up on the same holiday to do their essential business.
"I left the cereal box in the attic for a couple of days," Lincoln said. "No answer. One night, I decided to stick around in case the ghost needed to suss out my vibe more. Personally, I wouldn't want to befriend someone I've only heard them live a life below me and left me three questions to answer—no matter the importance of those questions."
"Fair enough. I respect a ghost with standards."
"It's admirable." Lincoln nodded. "I stuck around and talked for a few hours. This ghost has heard my whole life story."
"You were ten, though, right?" I imagined a tiny version of Lincoln full of wonder and the constant need to chatter. "Couldn't have taken more than a few minutes."
"One decade holds a lot of content, Celeste."
I smiled, amused at his insistence. I loved how dramatic this man could be. "You're only conscious of maybe six of those years? Seven if you're like a really self-aware three-year-old."
"I remember things from as young as two," he said.
My brows raised as I tried to recall my childhood and kept getting stuck at a four-year-old me collecting rocks at the base of a mountain. "Man, what I'd do for that kind of memory retention. I bet that's a lifesaver when it comes to studying."
"I wouldn't bet on that."
"Why not?"
"I'm one failing grade away from being on academic probation. From the results of my first few assignments this semester, the chances of probation doubled," he said. "Memory doesn't do much for me these days."
I tried not to show too much shock or concern at the comment. The confession was far more significant than his nonchalant tone suggested. When I met Lincoln's gaze, I saw nerves there. He hadn't meant to share that tidbit. He wasn't using his failure as a setup for some punch line. His jaw tightened when he looked away from me and back to the tour guide, like he was finally interested in the information he'd digested a multitude of times.
"This potential probation," I started, voice low as I treaded carefully. "Do your friends know?"
He let out a dry laugh. "Nope. This was something I was going to take to the grave. Or at least keep under the radar until they started doing their big things and I stayed at Mendell for another year or so without them."
My chest tightened at the thought of him on his own. The strings between us strengthened because, despite being opposites, we'd buried something similar. We were afraid of the same kind of failure and loneliness.
"Do you want?—"
"This is my favorite part," Lincoln interrupted, moving closer to the group.
I watched his back as he turned his attention to the tour guide's explanation of our empty bell tower and the secrets it held.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LINCOLN
My skin continued to burn in embarrassment after we boarded the bus to head up to the abandoned mines and haunted house. The ride took us twenty minutes outside of town. Our tour guide spent the entire time going through repurposed jokes and setups for tourists' questions. I tried to listen in because even from those recycled talking points, I gleaned inspiration. But the twisting feeling of shame weighed heavily on my shoulders.
I’d done well with keeping the vital things under wraps. So, letting my potential probation slip left my system stunned. This day wasn't supposed to end with such a thud. We'd been wonderfully high off over-sugared lemonade and first kisses.
I’d never been properly introduced to embarrassment. I didn't understand the intricacies of this spiral of regret. Now that Celeste knew about my failure and had seen me trying to press forward without much explanation, I was anxious about what would come next and how I could shift her attention to something lighter and less about me.
"It's not a big deal," I said once when I deboarded the bus and stepped into the dusty, abandoned mining town.
Celeste looked up, quiet as she waited for me to continue. Her eyes were soft with understanding for a story I had yet to relay and with empathy I'm not sure I deserved.
"Not to me," I said.
