Title-less

Prologue.

His words came slowly to me at first. I was in a daze, obviously; insanely high on some strange substance that didn’t exist. I can’t say it wasn’t bad, though. In fact, I can compare the feeling to being on Cloud Nine with ecstasy at your disposal.
Not that I’d ever been to Cloud Nine, per se. I’d been awfully close in the past few weeks, though.
What had he been saying? I wasn’t sure.
I shook my head. The agitation brought my thoughts back into order, for the most part. I noticed now that I hadn’t died and gone to heaven like I’d suspected. We were still on Cape Perpetua, the highest point on the Oregon coastline, and I was still frozen where he had held me.
“What?” I whispered, almost incoherently, to him. I couldn’t seem to look at his face, so I just stared into his chest, wondering, I suppose, what it looked like inside.
He heard my mumbling, of course. He always does.
“I said,” He chuckled; seemingly amused with the stupor I was in, “I dare you.”
“Dare…” I mouthed silently to myself. “T-to… Off there?” I stumbled over my words, glancing out over his shoulder at the Pacific.
I said I was an explorer. Explorers are daring, right? They try new things all the time. Besides, it was wired into me, wasn’t it? I had always boasted that I was the most audacious person in all of Oregon, brave and heroic, like Superwoman. But I was sure that my face didn’t do that claim much justice.
I gave him an anxious and half-queasy look.
He smiled. He could give people heart attacks, the smile was so beautiful. It would knock them straight to the ground. At least, that’s what I thought.
“I promise I won’t let you fall,” He whispered to me in his airy voice.
I nodded slowly, giving my consent without a word. It appeared my throat had closed up on me.
His lips turned up slightly into a sly smirk.
Then we jumped. 











Chapter one.
AJ

I’m an explorer, born and raised. It’s in my genetics somewhere, I know it. Unfortunately, so is being accident-prone. Today, I was walking through the woods behind our house in Yachats, Oregon and I guess I wasn’t looking because I stepped off a rock into a big ditch. I almost broke my tibia, --that’s the bone in your calf—but it seems I have an uncanny ability to escape these kinds of situations without major damage. You don’t even understand how big a miracle that is.
“Jesus, AJ, what did you do to yourself?” my dad demanded when I came in the front door with a huge bleeding gash in my left leg, scratches on my arms, and leaves and sticks in my hair.
“Oh, you know, I only wrestled a bear.”
Dad gave me an expectant look. You know the one with the single eyebrow raised and the folded arms. It was probably the same one he gave to that football player last week when he caught the dude trying to TP our house.
My dad’s the football coach for the Fighting Irish at Waldport High; where I go to school. Occasionally he’ll piss off one of the running backs or linemen by making them do extra push-ups or whatever and we’ll find our house egged the next week.
“I fell into a ditch in the woods,” I justified, hoping this explanation would be enough.
“You never were the most coordinated girl,” my dad murmured in his deep musky voice, thinking I couldn’t hear him.
“Well,” he said, sighing more audibly than necessary, “put some peroxide and a bandage on it. There’s a new bag of cotton balls in the bathroom drawer.”
I turned to leave the room, hoping to get out of a few specific things, but my dad stopped me, saying, “Oh, and AJ?”
I cursed silently under my breath. Chores were the worst part of being an only child.
“Don’t forget to wash the dishes, take the trash out, feed the dog, vacuum the carpet in the den, clean your room…” Blah, blah, blah. I rolled my eyes and went up the stairs to my bathroom before I could hear anymore, saying the very generic, ‘Yeah, okay, I’ll do it in a little bit’ line.
I pulled out the bottle of peroxide, cotton balls, and bandages from the drawer and started the routine process of cleaning my impairments. I propped my leg up on the sink counter to dab at the bloody places with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball. I winced a few times before I was through, but I’d had worse.
Once the wound was all white and bubbling, (which I think is pretty cool) I took another look at the entirety of my leg. It had so many scars on it that you’d think I’d had plastic surgery about fifty-gazillion times, without the cosmetic after-effect. That look wasn’t just on my leg, either. I had scars all over my body. I thought it made me look ugly, but my friends at school say it makes me look tough, like a jock-ette or something. Of course, it’s not like I would ever be coordinated enough to play any sport, but it’s good to look like I can, I guess.
I unwrapped and stuck the sterile, ‘Jumbo’ bandage on the gash sloppily. My dad always makes sure to buy some at the corner store whenever he goes down there, because I’m terminally clumsy.
Lifting my leg off the counter, I looked at myself in the mirror. The twigs and leaves were still in my hair, like an oversized bird’s nest in a gold tree. I shook my head roughly to try to get most of them out and then picked a few of the stragglers out by hand, throwing them in the neon green rubbish can that was there.
Glancing back at my face, I studied it, like I do every time I see a mirror. My features weren’t simple, but they weren’t outstanding, either.  My skin was a pretty shade of tan, not too light, but not too dark. The color everyone wants to be. Unfortunately for me, the price I pay for this golden goddess skin is that my cheeks always display when and how badly I’m embarrassed. I had light blue eyes and a pretty straight mane of golden hair. That’s from my dad. I wished it was blonder, like it used to be when I was a kid, but I wouldn’t touch hair dye with a thirty-foot pole. My hair would probably end up purple by the time I was done.
I had an oval face and high cheeks bones that made my face look round when I smiled. Freckles and a strange dimple that only appeared on my right cheek finished off my look. I posed a few times for myself, like those girls on the modeling shows. I can’t ever quite get my eyes to do that sparkle thing that they do, so I don’t really try. Sometimes I wish I could be a model, not that I would be any good at it, (you actually have to walk in a straight line sometimes) but I do this just to make myself feel pretty.
I turned out of the room with a kick and a smile at myself, and opened the door to my bedroom, which was conveniently located right across the hall from there. I flopped on my bed, stomach down, and picked up the remote to my television from under a pair of worn jeans that were haphazardly thrown on my floor. I flicked through some channels and, finding nothing but the annoying paid programming and movies I’ve watched twenty times already, I clicked it off.
I turned onto my back and stared at my pink ceiling. My bedroom was all a pale pink color and it still had the Benjamin Bunny strip wallpaper on it from when I was first born. It wouldn’t be that way if my dad let me near paint. I guess he’s afraid of me inhaling too many fumes and making myself even clumsier than I am already, which I have told him many times is not even remotely possible. I can’t get any clumsier than I already am. The world would end before that happened.
Then again, he might be scared because he thinks if I inhale the fumes too much I’ll become addicted to them like some crack whore, just because of that one time with the glue and sharpies in second grade. The dare was only for one school day, and I only came home half baked. I really don’t see what the hype was all about.
I decided I would put on some comfy clothes to make it look like I was holing up for the rest of the day, maybe even add a book for extra emphasis. We were almost at the end of the glorious two months of summer break, which meant my dad would have extra stuff to do at the school, with summer football training and everything ending and the season beginning. This meant that I had lots of free time, which meant that I could do whatever I wanted. When I have these chances, I tend to take them and make use of the time. Like today, for instance, I was kicking it with my best friend, who had a car.
I started to change into one of my dad’s old college sweatshirt, thinking my idea was a pretty good one, when he walked in, sooner than I expected.
“Hey, AJ, I forgot to tell you-“
“Dad!” I yelled at him. I was only in a bra and panties at the time, and was holding the Oregon State sweatshirt in front of me.
“Oh, sorry honey,” he said, turning around quickly so I could dress.
It’s not that I don’t know that my dad’s seen me naked before, it’s just a little awkward now that I have boobage to worry about. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t care about what I was wearing when he walked in.
I swiftly yanked the sweatshirt over my head and pulled on a pair of holey sweatpants that, even though I’ve had them forever, were still three sizes too large.
“Geez Dad, have you ever heard of knocking before entering?” I asked after I finished changing.
He laughed nervously in reply, running a large, rough-looking hand through ashy blonde hair, but remained turned away from me.
“It’s okay, you can look now,” I stated dully. Sometimes I felt like I was ordering around my little brother instead of talking to my dad. “What did you want to tell me again?”
When he turned around, I was sitting on my bed, watching him closely.
“I was just going to remind you that you have a summer homework paper due on Tuesday. I think it’s for that creative writing class you’re taking.” He said; hands on his hips in his dad’s-so-on-top-of-things pose. “You should get to work on that before the day is over. I’ll be back with dinner around six, okay?”
My dad looked all tough and strict, but he was really just a big teddy bear. He was tall, like me, with a rather young and muscular build for someone in his forties. But despite the fact my dad looked like he could tackle Hulk Hogan no problem, the age really showed in his face. Wrinkles were starting to emerge near and under his eyes, with the fluctuating appearance of bags. You could plainly see the deep laugh lines around his mouth, and the flecks of grey appearing in his neatly-trimmed mustache and beard.
“Okay, thanks, Dad,” I replied in a tone that he must have interpreted as a ‘you can leave now’ gesture, which it was. I loved my dad, but over the past few months his fatherly hovering has been increasing. I didn’t know if something was happening at work or what, but whatever it was needed to end so I could get some peace.
I got up and went to my computer so when dad checked in before leaving me to myself like always, I would look like I was being a good little girl and doing what he told me to. He didn’t think I knew about it, how he checks on me, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know.
For one, he doesn’t know that I won’t be starting my paper today. He also doesn’t know that I’m going on a hike with Noah, my best friend with the car, while he’s away.
 













Chapter two.
             Noah

From my window, I watched my dad get into his beat up old Jeep and drive away into the afternoon sun towards civilization. We lived about ten or so miles from any malls, nail salons, fast food joints, or any other social orifice that isn’t important. We had one barber shop, two café-diners, a roller rink, a gas station, and plenty of woods. I like it that way. Of course, it is sort of a dreary place to be when a birthday comes around, but other than that, it’s all I need. Besides, the only thing I desire to do is explore the woods. I hardly go into the skating rink or hang out at the diners at all. I told you it's wired into me somewhere.
After I could no longer see the florescent red glow of Dad’s taillights, I hastily ripped off my lounge clothing and tugged an old pair of jeans on. They were one of my favorite pairs; I’d blown a hole in the knees a while back when some friends and I were climbing this cliff about a mile to the east of a not-so-travelled path. I rolled them up at the ankles, and snaked a dark leather belt through the loops.

The phone rang. It must be Noah, I thought to myself. He always calls before he picks me up. The phone rang two more times before I plucked it from the wall in my room.
“Hey AJ,” Noah’s friendly voice sounded from the other side of the line.
“Hey Noah, you’re coming to pick me up, right?” I asked, still half-dressed.
“I’m already here. Look out your window.”
I pulled back my curtains and opened my bedroom window, sticking my upper body out the window. I didn’t care that he saw me with only a bra on; it wasn’t like he’d never seen me in a bathing suit before. I mean, he should have, he is my best friend.
Noah waved at me and put on a huge goofy grin that seemed to be his trademark.
“Nice boobs,” He said into the phone, though I could hear him perfectly without it, “I think they got bigger.”
“Shut up!” I retorted, hanging up on him and going down stairs to get the door. I grabbed a plain fitted white t-shirt on the way, walking and pulling it over my head at the same time.
That proved to be a bad idea.
I tripped over my feet and fell down the last few steps on the stairs, hearing Noah laugh at the audible thud I was sure I made when I landed. I got up in one hurried movement, not concerned about whether I got a new bump or bruise. It wouldn’t be the first time.
My so called ‘best friend’ was still chuckling when I opened the front door. I smacked him over the head with the Saturday paper I found on the doormat before throwing it into the house with no particular target in mind. I gathered up my beloved black Converse high-tops from beside the door and slipped them on, hopping around stupidly trying to lace them up.
“Hey!” He cried, rubbing his head in the spot where I swatted him, “That actually hurt…”
“Get over it, you big baby,” I stated with a smile. I stuck out my tongue in his direction; to which he replied by picking me up and hurling me into the back of his Chevy.
I brushed it off, though I did hit the truck bed pretty hard. I collected my gold hair into an ordinary ponytail, using the yellow hair tie that I always kept around my wrist for such events as these.
I couldn’t see it, but I could feel Noah watching me for the few moments it took for me to pull the naturally straight tresses into a messy ponytail. Instead of looking back at him, I searched around the bed until I found the case of water bottles and boxes of raisins we took each time we made one of our unlawful trips.
I heard the car hinges creak and the rusty door slam closed a few seconds later. Then the old engine roared to life rather nicely, despite it being decrepit and all.
We started backing out of the driveway, but Noah was intent on banging me up in the bed of the Chevy. He was stepping on the gas, then braking harshly; gas, break, gas, break, gas—
“Noah!” I shrieked, banging on the glass window between him and me. I could hear him stifling his laughs from inside. “I swear to God, if you don’t drive correctly, I’ll—“
I was cut off by the sudden increase in speed, and thrown back into a corner with the water. Shocked, I sat there for a bit before Noah’s will broke and he burst into combinations of snorts and hoots, all of which were extremely loud. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror, giving him a stern look that soon turned into a smile and a giggle. I hit the glass between us again; mad because he always made it so hard to hate him.
I stood up on my knees and leaned over the side of the truck like a dog. We zoomed past every type of tree, not that I was trying to notice that. I smiled in the wind and closed my eyes, letting the wind wrap around me in every which way.
Tourists that came to view the Sea Lion Caves were always guaranteed to want to hike at some point or other, so there was the beginner’s path for them. For regulars and residents, though, there were deeper trails. Tougher ones that took longer to complete. Today, Noah and I chose to go hiking on a trail that wasn’t used anymore. It is very rough and they don’t show it on the maps anywhere, which kind of means we aren’t supposed to be hiking on it, but if nobody uses it anymore, who’s going to know?
The rusty red Chevy pulled into the parking lot and let out a final wheeze before the engine stopped and Noah got out. He went around to the back to get me out, and I grabbed him by his brown hair, titling his head to the sky.
There were lots of groans and he tried to pull away, but I just held on harder.
“You had to have known this was coming, bro. No one gets to beat me up except me,” I whispered to his agonized face, “Now help me out.”
I let go then and he looked at me with an angry expression, to which I replied, “You know you just got served, right?” and laughed. His mouth slowly spread into a smile as he picked me up and dropped me gently on the ground.
The both of us started walking towards the maps and the beginnings of trails. The trail we were going to use was off a regular’s route, hidden by brush in attempt to keep people out. I think the story was that someone died on the trail, and that’s why they don’t let people hike it anymore.
“What was the deal with this trail, again?”
Noah would know about it; he always was one for stories.
“A hiker died because they fell off of a steep slope and landed in some sharp boulders. The police checked for her on the trail when her husband said she hadn’t come back to the hotel. They found some blood, but there wasn’t a body or piece of evidence that she’d passed through there. A few days later they discovered the body on the rocks, where they’d first found blood. The weird thing was that she wasn’t there the first time they inspected the area,” he answered in an interested tone. Noah loved a mystery or myth, when he could find one. He got a kick out of the puzzles, where I just used reasoning to come up with a logical answer.
“That’s a stupid reason to close the trail off,” I said as we started walking on the lawfully set trail, clearly unenthused.
“No, you’re face is a stupid reason to close the trail off,” He retorted dumbly.
I tried to reach up and grab his hair again, but he grabbed me and wrapped me in a headlock first. I struggled, but his arm got tighter around my head. The next thing I knew, I was biting his arm. He immediately let go of me and yelled, “Ouch! AJ, you friggin’ cow, that hurt!” He mumbled something incoherent after that; he looked kind of like Yosemite Sam in those old Bugs Bunny cartoons.
I imagined Noah with a ten-gallon hat and a pistol, mumbling curses under his breath. I doubled over with laughter and had to sit down. He looked at me like I was crazy.
“What in the world are you laughing about?” He asked, wild-eyed. Soon though, he was laughing, too.
We had to quiet it down, though, because some of the people were staring. Noah helped me to my feet and we were on our way again.
Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, we reached the spot in the trail that branched out into the hidden path. I carefully removed the brush that was covering the unused hiking route, and tried my best to make it look like it hadn’t been touched. We ran deeper so no one could see us and where we were travelling.
It was nice and green, very peaceful for a place where lots of tourists gathered. We were about a mile or so from the Pacific and Cape Perpetua, the highest point on the Oregon coastline. There was a course that led to the top of that point, but it was hardly used, it being so dangerous and all.
“So Noah,” I said with a prying tone of voice, trying to look at him and walk over a rock at the same time, “Who’s the girl of the week?”
He looked over at me and shrugged, saying, “No one,” in a small voice.
See, Noah’s the kind of guy everyone likes, and all of the girls fancy. Well, except me. But that aside, he doesn’t know how a relationship is supposed to work. He sees a girl, thinks she’s pretty, and asks her out. She says yes, but the next week he sees another girl. And that’s how it’s been going ever since he grew six inches and got contacts in tenth grade.
So you could see how I might have been surprised at his answer.
“What?!” I asked loudly, stopping and looking at him like he was mad. “There’s no girl this week? You’re still with Jacklyn?”
“No…”
“What?! You left Jacklyn? What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled.
I was flabbergasted. He has always wanted to go out with Jacklyn. She’s the Prom Queen. She’s the head cheerleader. She’s the prettiest girl in school, for God’s sake! And now he finally gets the chance to go out with her, and he dumps her.
What a douche.
“You’re a douche. I hope you know that.” I said bluntly. I say this same line every time he dumps someone. Oh, and then I bash the person he’s going out with now.
Except… there’s no one to bash this time.
“She wasn’t…” He stopped, thinking, but I took this time to butt in.
“Enough of a bitch?”
He looked at me with a strange expression then. He almost looked like that hurt. Emotionally.
Dude, that’s deep for him.
Not to say anything bad about his taste in women, but it sucks. The more girls he goes through, the bitchier his remaining choices get. First he tackled the shyer ones, those were okay, but recently he’s been moving up the cheerleading ranks, and he just dumped the bitchiest one of all. I don’t know how much higher up the ladder he can climb, since you really can’t find anyone prettier (or skankier) than Jacklyn.