The Maple Effect Read online

  She hummed thoughtfully, and then slowly broke into a grin. The small gap between her front teeth visible behind shiny lips. “Well, Aaron is way too good for you.”

  June barked a laugh. “Ain’t that the truth!”

  Aaron slept through the majority of the morning, finally stirring awake when Quail stepped rudely onto the side of his head and accidentally scratched his ear lobe. He blinked into the muted daylight, confused and concerned for a moment until his brain remembered where he was.

  June’s bedroom. The king size bed on the side of the house that stayed mostly shadowed from the pines lining the backyard. That’s right. He’d fallen asleep here; rather easily now that he thought about it. June had been talking about something, and his voice had lulled Aaron to sleep within moments.

  Aaron sat upright and swung his legs off the edge of the bed with a sigh. He felt like this was the first time he’d managed to get a good night sleep since he had arrived at this cabin. His shoulders were a little stiff from swimming yesterday, but other than that, everything was well rested. Body and mind alike.

  The sounds of familiar voices in the living room filtered through the thin walls reaching him and Quail. The cat slinked through the cracked bedroom door to investigate not a moment before Aaron. He might as well get on with the day before it was half over. He walked down the hall and into the bathroom he typically used, listening to June’s quiet laughter. Angie, the ice cream shop girl he’d met the other day, was going on about something that had happened to one of her customers.

  Aaron hurried to fill the bathroom sink and stick his head in it. A poor attempt to tame the chaos that was his hair, but a necessary feat anyway. He heard the sound of the kitchen radio playing. His heart lifted as he towel-dried, brushed his teeth, flossed, and stared in the mirror. Was he getting tan? Aaron had never managed anything but a sunburn before. The everyday exposure plus sunscreen was turning him a warmer color. Maybe California was getting to him.

  He turned and flexed his stomach, then his chest, poked at his sides and the baby fat usually there. Where had it gone? Or…was it there and it just didn't bother him all of a sudden? Maybe June’s cooking (and less eating out) had made him lose the extra pudge. Maybe walking to the lake and swimming so much had toned him. Aaron stared at himself, thoughtfully. Arco would be proud if he saw this.

  Content with himself and this early afternoon, Aaron emerged from the bathroom. Maroon 5’s Sunday Morning played over the radio, and he sang along softly. June and Angie turned their heads to look at him from where they sat cross-legged, facing each other on the couch. They watched as he made his way to the cabinet and dug out a cup.

  Angie looked excited. June looked…curious.

  He stopped singing and cleared his throat, wondering if he should apologize for interrupting them.

  “That was really good,” Angie said honestly. “Did you take singing lessons or something?”

  Aaron felt his skin turning pink from the praise. His voice felt a little raspy this morning, and he didn't sing much aside from in his car and the shower. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought about what it would be like to have his voice on the radio one day. A big dream for a guy with mild endurance and ambition, but a dream nonetheless.

  “No.” He smiled. “But I used to play guitar and sing in a band in high school.” He didn't bother listing the other instruments he’d learned to play over the years.

  June’s mouth fell open in awe or disbelief he wasn’t sure, but Angie’s eyes twinkled.

  “No kidding!” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing. Where you guys any good?”

  He remembered how easily flustered he had gotten staring into the faces of his peers at the local skatepark (the only venue that let them play regularly). There were plenty of other local Portland bands that had been better than Arco, the two other boys, and himself. They’d only done it for fun anyway.

  “No…N-Not really,”

  “Do you ever think about going on American Idol?” Angie crossed her arms over the back of the couch as he turned to get orange juice from the fridge.

  He didn’t know Angie very well, but since he’d met her, he realized she always had this dreamy look in her eyes when she talked about things outside of her life here. Aaron recognized the familiar longing of someone who wanted to fly away. It was very much the same way Arco used to be. Always talking about how he was going to save marine life. How he was going to get that internship in Monterey and make a difference. Free Willy or whatever.

  Aaron wished he had half of the confidence his older cousin did when it came to achieving life goals.

  “No.” He chuckled, uncapping, and pouring himself a glass. He was acutely aware June hadn’t said anything to him yet. “I’m not good enough to go on American Idol.”

  “I bet you are.” Angie rested her head in her arms. Was she ogling at him? Aaron suddenly felt like his whole body was going to go up in flames.

  “I get nervous in front of big crowds,” he explained, making his way to the smaller couch sitting adjacent to theirs. He could see now that they had been in the middle of a nail painting session—June held a tiny bottle of neon orange nail polish and Angie’s toes looked like the victim.

  He noticed June had painted only his ring fingernail black, and somehow, admired it. When Aaron was in middle school, there had been emos and grunge babies that colored their nails with either black sharpie or neon highlighter, but the trend died along with hemp bracelets and cassettes.

  He caught June’s eyes looking a little defensive as if daring him to question his antics. Aaron smiled back.

  “That’s too bad,” Angie said, looking down at her toes. She carefully touched the pad of her finger to the nail to check if it was dry. “If I could sing, I would do it.”

  “You could do it now.” June snorted. “Half the show is about the people who sing horribly.”

  “Speak for yourself.” She glared back at him.

  Aaron had just settled into the corner of the couch to listen to them bicker when June stood. He turned away from his best friend and promptly plopped himself onto the pillow next to Aaron. Jostled, Aaron set his glass on the side table.

  “What are you—”

  “Give me your hand.” June shook the bottle of black nail polish and waited. Angie huffed, amused.

  “O-Okay.” Aaron swallowed and slowly placed his hand in the other boy’s. Aaron's fingers were longer, but June’s were unexpectedly strong. He remembered the way it had felt when June pulled thorns out of his skin and dabbed him with Neosporin. A slow shiver started in the pit of his stomach and rolled up to his ears like a wave, suspending him in nervousness. He suddenly wished he’d put a shirt on before coming out into the living room. The goosebumps were noticeable.

  June turned his hand this way and that, deciding which nail would be the best before finally settling on his pinky. He used his thumb to push back Aaron’s cuticles and then held the polish out at him.

  “Hold this.”

  Aaron did as told while June uncapped it and rubbed the bristles against the mouth of the bottle. He noticed—like many things June did; cooking, drawing, pulling out thorns—he did it with a delicate, practiced grace. The brush swept soft and cold against his pinky fingernail exactly four times. It was so perfect Aaron had to ask.

  “You’ve done this a lot, huh?”

  “Two sisters will do that to a guy.” He gestured toward Angie with his chin. “And her hands are unsteady.”

  Angie nodded in agreement. “It’s true; the only time I ever have my nails painted is during the summer.”

  Aaron watched June bite his lower lip as he admired his work. He looked proud as Aaron flexed his fingers to look at it. A shiny black contrast next to his other four bare nails. He wondered why June chose his pinky but didn't bother asking. He didn't mind it, so what did it matter?

  “There.” June took the bottle back and capped it. Humor laced his tone. “Now when someone tries to kick my ass tonight at the bon
fire, I won’t be alone.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes and reached back to grab his glass of juice. He didn't think there was a person on this mountain brave enough to square off with June. With or without nail polish, the guy was intimidating. With his piercing blue eyes, endless confidence, and quick wits. If his tongue wasn’t strong enough to strike someone down, Aaron was sure he could throw a punch or two.

  What June said though—about a bonfire—confused Aaron.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Angie flopped onto her back and stuck her legs up over the arm of the couch. “A big group of high school students goes down to the north shore from time to time in the summer.” She waved her hand around as she spoke. “We camp by the lake and drink shitty beer and swim.”

  Aaron’s stomach churned.

  “It’s a lot of fun! As long as you bring mosquito repellent.”

  “Y-You sleep out there?” He didn't know why he asked. That was the very definition of camping. Bonfires under the moonlight surrounded by nothing but the dark forest and even darker depths of the lake. That was also the very definition of what set his teeth on edge.

  He hated being afraid of the dark. Hated it. Loathed it more than anything else.

  June looked at him expectantly. Unguarded. Almost pleading.

  He was going to let June down.

  “Yep,” Angie said. “I have a big tent and everything.”

  “Oh.” Guilt gnawed at him. He wasn’t ready to admit what a chicken he was. He wasn't ready to ruin the dynamic they had. June had treated Aaron as an equal here. Enjoyed his presence enough to invite him places and even let him sleep in the same bed.

  He’d been so careful about sharing this part of himself with people. While growing up, there had always been a valid excuse or a reason to keep himself out of embarrassing situations. He could tell friends his mom wouldn’t let him go with them. Or he had something else to do. He could lie ahead of time and save himself the trouble altogether.

  The only way Aaron was going to get out of this situation was to pretend he was sick, and considering how cheerful he’d woken up this morning, it wasn’t going to be easy. Not to mention June was one of the most intuitive people he’d ever met. He looked right through Aaron.

  But would he understand? Aaron was practically a full-grown adult. He shouldn’t have a crutch like this. He should have grown out of it by now.

  After a moment of awkward silence, June finally murmured, “You’re gonna come, right?”

  Aaron watched the walls build back up in his friend’s eyes. Saw the gentle, hopeful expression give way to defenses. Warmth turned cold, and Aaron had the audacity to feel sorry for himself.

  Had Angie not been in the room, he might have blurted out the truth to June right then and there. Taken a shot in the dark (haha) and hoped June understood enough not to be upset.

  Instead, Aaron faked his best smile, nodded, and dug himself into a deeper hole.

  “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll go.”

  He wasn’t going.

  Aaron’s burning desire to be a part of June and Angie’s evening down at the lake was strong, but he knew better than to put himself in a situation like that. The darkness would only lead to panic and embarrassment. And he wasn’t prepared to make a fool of himself in front of a whole new group of people. He’d end up wracked with anxiety, trying to breathe deeply as his chest closed inward. His throat would dry up; catch when he tried to speak. His brain would short circuit; flooded and overwhelmed with the fuzzy memories of being pulled up from the bottom of a mineshaft. Ears would ring a distant and shrill wail. The sound of an ambulance clearing a crowded street.

  The memories of that frozen Portland day would haunt him, snapping at his heels every chance he tried to run. Corralling him into a pit of self-doubt and shame.

  Aaron had attempted to conquer his fear a few times in his life but found each event as unsuccessful and traumatic as the last. When other people were involved, he ended up ruining the few pitiful scraps of reputation he had, which resulted in bullying and the noble (but pathetic) act of his older cousin standing up for him. People weren’t nice to him when they found out about his fear, and they especially weren’t nice to him when Arco broke their nose on his behalf. Aaron grieved the lack of his confidence with a heavy heart.

  Only now, at this point in his life, did Aaron feel he had some control over what people thought of him. He’d escaped the torment and drama of high school, shaken off the old feelings and allowed himself to move forward despite his weaknesses. He’d learned how to hide his fear well; distancing himself from anyone who wouldn’t understand.

  Which is why he couldn’t go with June.

  Aaron had no idea how June would react, and he wasn’t ready to risk their new friendship by telling him his biggest secret.

  His heart ached thinking about those shiny blue eyes smiling at him when he lied earlier. June had looked relieved and hopeful and…and now Aaron had to take it all back.

  Aaron stared at his hand in the mirror, eyes drawn to the single black pinky nail. What an ironic way to get under his skin. A constant reminder of how easily he had given himself over to the other teen. Like dipping the single finger into hot water and yanking it back before he could be fully burned. There was a part of him that encouraged the burn. Craved it. Tainted black with a taste of what it might be like to spill the truth to someone new despite nine other digits that clung to keeping him safe.

  June had won over that pinky.

  Aaron listened through the wall, where June hastily gathering items to take with them tonight and sighed. Clouded eyes and lips pinched together as if he was in pain. His hands clutched the rim of the sink, knuckles white. He tried to imagine telling June the truth, but there were no words to explain how much of a disaster he was.

  He was running out of time though, and if he didn't say something soon, he was only going to make things worse. Angie had left to go pack camping gear over an hour ago, and they were supposed to meet up with her at the docks.

  He realized, when he placed his hand on the doorknob, that what worried him most was the possibility June wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he knew. It seemed incredibly petty and childish for someone to ditch a friend for their phobias, but Aaron had experienced it more than once or twice in his life. He closed his eyes and fought the rise of anguish in his stomach. He wasn’t ready to let June go.

  He took one last deep breath and pushed open the bathroom door.

  June wished he could say that he was surprised, but the writing had been on the wall.

  He was quite good at reading people, and Aaron wasn’t exactly good at hiding his emotions. The difference between his genuine smiles and his nervous smiles were obvious. Distinct in the lines of his face and the flash of his teeth. When he was excited, his shoulders pulled back slightly, and when he was sad, they drooped. The difference between eyebrows pinched inward or relaxed. The way his lips parted based on levels of excitement or surprise. June was well aware of the mechanics behind Aaron's feelings.

  So, when Aaron came quietly out of the bathroom he’d been hiding himself in for the last ten minutes, June knew what was coming. Thick disappointment hung in the air.

  He turned to face Aaron from his place on the bed, sketchbook in one hand and small pencil case in the other.

  “Hey, you almost ready?” June asked because it didn't make much sense for him not to. Aaron was too naive to know that June already suspected the worst.

  The boy shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, crossing his arms and staring down at the carpet. He looked a little bit like a kicked puppy.

  “Well…um. Actually, I-I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  Here it is. June felt all the flames of hope inside of him burn out. One by one blinking away, leaving nothing but ashes in their path. He waited patiently, guarded, wondering what reason Aaron might have to do this.

  “I think I should stay home,” he whispered. “I don’t feel great.”r />
  A lie.

  He saw it written all over Aaron’s face. This was a guy who didn't lie. A guy who didn't like to keep secrets either. So why? June writhed and fought with the idea that Aaron might not want to be around him. Pushed at his insecurities as if they were a pendulum always swinging back to him. They gained momentum, weighted and heavy.

  June didn't know what to say, but he knew better than to try and argue. Aaron wouldn’t give him the truth anyway, that much was obvious.

  “Oh.” He huffed, shoving his sketchbook and pencils into a drawstring bag. “Are you sure?”

  Aaron licked his lips and nodded.

  Despite June’s best efforts, he couldn’t deny the strength of Aaron’s decision. His brain felt fuzzy, partially with disbelief and partially with hurt. He imagined the filing cabinet he’d tried so carefully to put back together being torched. Pages of information—everything he thought he knew—going up in smoke. Sprinkler systems going off and ink running blue. The pale watered down color of his veins.

  June knew well enough when to bail. And when he caught Aaron’s sorry green eyes, he knew now was that time.

  “Okay.” He hoped he sounded strong. Unwavering and untouched despite his eighteen-year-old-turmoil. Every negative emotion was like a pair of red-hot tongs; scary to hold onto but unable to be dropped without burning your toes.

  June pulled strings on his bag tight and flung it over his shoulder. “Well, I better go now if I have to walk.” He slid to his feet and found his flip-flops in the corner of the room.

  “June I—”

  “It’s no big deal,” he insisted, bumping past Aaron and making a straight line for the front door. “I walk down to the docks all the time.”

  “I’m sorry.” Aaron followed him. “I-It’s just—”

  “No. Big. Deal,” June said again as he snatched his keys from the kitchen counter. “I’ll see you later.”

  He slammed the door as he left. Not out of anger. Out of something that felt a lot more like rejection than he was willing to admit.