Beware the Little White Rabbit Read online

  She was lying on top of Aaron Malik, and they were face-to-face. Alice suddenly didn’t have enough air in her lungs to laugh. She could hardly breathe.

  “Hi,” he said, his lips just inches from hers, yet she could barely read his expression in the dark, even from here.

  “Hi,” she whispered back. Never in her wildest fantasies would she have imagined being this close to Aaron. But now, she was all too aware of how every breath brought her that much closer.

  “I guess we should have let sleeping logs lie, huh?” he said.

  She snorted a laugh. Right in Aaron’s face. But she couldn’t help it. “You really didn’t just say that.”

  “Hey, come on. That was slick.”

  “Yeah. Super slick.” She giggled again.

  “You just can’t appreciate true comic genius,” he said.

  “Are we getting up or what?”

  “Sure.” Even in the dark, his lopsided grin was hard to miss. “Whenever you’re ready to get off me, I’ll get up.”

  “Oh God.” Hooray for the veil of darkness. Hopefully her blushing wouldn’t be too obvious. “Sorry.”

  She scrambled off and to her knees as quickly as she could. Aaron grabbed hold of her elbow. “Let me help you,” he said.

  “No, really. I got it.” But he was already hauling her up, pulling so hard she stumbled into him. Their eyes locked. “Thanks,” Alice said.

  “No problem,” he whispered.

  Her hands were pressed into his chest, and she quickly moved them. “The wood,” she stuttered.

  “Right. Wood.” Aaron broke away from her, clearing his throat.

  “Well,” Alice muttered, “that happened.”

  They finished their hunt, and once they had amassed a decent pile, they set to building the fire. Aaron dug out a pit with the camp shovel, and Alice laid out the first layer of twigs and branches. “I bet I can get this going with no fire starter,” she said.

  “Go for it,” he challenged.

  She just happened to be the best fire maker in her family, even better than her dad. Alice smiled smugly as she laid out the wood just so. Meanwhile, Aaron got started on the tent, training the beams from their lights so he could see what he was doing. They worked quietly for some minutes, but it was a comfortable silence, her nervousness from earlier forgotten now that she had a task to do. Soon, the fire was burning away and the tent was all set up.

  Now what?

  They sat awkwardly next to each other on a tarp-draped log. Alice was a jangle of nerves again. Lovely. It didn’t help that Aaron’s shoulder kept brushing against hers as he poked and prodded the fire.

  “Hey, don’t mess it up,” she said. “That’s a finely crafted pyramid.”

  “Impressive.” He relinquished his stick. “How about food?” He handed her the jar of hot dogs.

  Little gray masses floated in unappetizing liquid. Alice made a bleh face.

  “They’re good.” Aaron prompted. “What do you think they use to make pigs-in-a-blanket?” He took the jar, twisted the lid off with a pop, and impaled a hot dog at the end of a stick. “Here.”

  “I don’t think I’m a weenie girl,” she said, and he burst out laughing. She smacked him on the arm. “Hey.”

  “Sorry,” he said, still laughing. “You’re right. You’re not a weenie girl.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.” She put her blanket-less pig over the fire and watched as the flames toasted it to a more appealing golden-brown. It smelled way better than it looked.

  “See, told you,” he said when she grabbed another from the jar.

  Aaron tried the radio again, and this time he got the college station’s classical hour. “We can chill to this. It’s boring, but soothing.”

  “I kinda like classical.”

  They ended the meal with a couple of granola bars from her pack. Aaron crumpled his wrapper and stowed it away in his bag, then slid off the log. He reclined against it, stretching his long legs toward the fire. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the stars beginning to light up the sky. After pulling on a sweatshirt against the cold night settling down on them, Alice inched closer to the fire – closer to Aaron – and lay down too.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “It’s so clear out here. We’ve got a fire, a starlit sky. Now all we need is a story.”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  But all the campfire stories she knew reminded her of her dad. “I can’t think of one right now.”

  “Then I’ll tell one. Let’s see. There’s the one about the great king Vira-Bhuja. He got all paranoid and locked away his favorite wife, Guna-Vara.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  Aaron shifted, and his knee came to rest against her leg. She tried not to let him feel her shiver.

  “An old Hindu fairy tale.”

  “Are you Hindu?” Alice whispered, trying to figure out if she was supposed to move her leg away or not. But Aaron seemed okay with the situation. Alice was more than okay with it. Way more.

  He nodded. “My mom used to tell me that story.”

  “So, what happened to Guna-Vara?”

  “The prince returned from exile and cleared his mother’s name. Mostly, though, because he met the wise and beautiful daughter of an evil magician. She saved the prince, the queen, everyone.”

  Hearing Aaron’s story made Alice think of her own days listening to fairy tales, except it had been her father, not her mother, who’d told them. He’d taught her how to take care of herself and how to make a campfire. Alice could picture it like it was yesterday. His strong hands arranging the wood, the look of concentration on his beard-stubbled face. The smile he’d get when the spark blazed to life. He’d put his arm around her, and she’d feel loved. So loved.

  Alice smiled up at the shining sky even as the grief washed over her. Why did the good memories have to bring pain? Like some twisted freebie. No wonder Alice’s mother refused to talk about him, choosing to bury herself in work the way an ostrich would bury its head in the sand. That was how her mother coped with all of life’s difficulties, which had been fine as long as her dad was around.

  Not so much now.

  But that didn’t matter anymore. Alice was seventeen, would go to college soon. It was time to get used to taking care of herself – she was taking care of herself. She felt a moment’s pride at how well she was handling all of this. Her dad would be proud.

  “I still can’t believe we’re stuck out here,” she said.

  “Well, we did sign on for a camping trip, didn’t we? It’s just a little different than we planned.”

  “Yeah, and way scarier.”

  “Don’t worry, Alice. We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  Maybe it was the music. Maybe the stars. Or simply his voice in the night. Whatever it was, for the first time in a long time, out here tonight with only this stranger, Alice didn’t feel alone.

  But it wouldn’t last. He’d just graduated after all, and summer was just a few short weeks long.

  “I hear you got into Northland,” she said. “You must be so psyched.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “That’s one of the best environmental undergrad programs in the country.”

  “Are you applying there?” he asked. “That day at Morris Beach, you said you wanted to study ecological science, right?”

  Wow. He totally remembered.

  “Definitely. I hope I get in.”

  “Doing Wilderland will look really good on your apps.”

  “I guess I’m lucky Mrs. Kasbrack thought to tell me about it then.”

  He cleared his throat and shifted. She studied him for a moment, but he kept his eyes averted from hers. “There are a couple other things you can check out, some local internships, volunteering opportunities. I’ll give you some info when we get home.”

  “Awesome.”

  Did that mean he wanted to see her outside of Wilderland?

  “The college application process is really freaky,” she said. “So
many forms to fill out. All those essays.”

  “Yeah. At least they’re online. I can’t even imagine paper applications.”

  She laughed. “I know.”

  “Do you think we should waste some of our water on that cocoa?” he asked.

  “Probably not, but it sounds good.”

  “How about we share one?”

  He mixed a packet of the powder with water in his tin mess cup, then held it over the fire. A few moments later, he said, “Ouch. Damned thing’s getting hot.” He set it down and sucked on his fingers.

  “That’s what happens when you hold metal over fire, dumbass. Here. Let me.” She dug in her pack and pulled out a pair of gloves. It got cold in the woods at night. She came prepared.

  With gloved hands, Alice carefully hovered the cup above the flame, stirring occasionally with a spoon from her mess kit until the scent of simmering chocolate blended with the wood smoke on the air.

  “Here, taste.” She held out the cup.

  Alice watched his lips as he blew on the cocoa. He took a tentative sip and smiled. “Definitely worth wasting the water.”

  They shared the mug, back and forth, watching the fire and talking about everything and nothing at all. A haunting violin melody filled the air. Between the music, chilly night, and hot fire, Alice shivered.

  Aaron scooted closer. “Here.” He put an arm around her and drew her against him.

  She nearly dropped the cup in her surprise. He was cuddling with her.

  She needed to say something. Anything.

  “Why do you have a white rabbit on your backpack?”

  He laughed. “That. The hare is a moon sign in the ancient Vedic religion. He jumps the highest and runs the fastest, which gives him power over other signs. My dad gave it to me to remind me of the hare when I’m out in the wild. To keep me on my toes.”

  Tonight’s moon was full. Alice tried to imagine it as a rabbit running. “It’s beautiful.”

  “What?”

  “The moon. The violin. Everything.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice closer now.

  She turned to look at him, and he was staring at her. Her breath caught in her throat. So did his.

  He was going to kiss her.

  Alice stared back, yet she needed to look away, to hide, but she couldn’t move. And part of her didn’t want to anyway. A tickling thrill sparked, grew, ignited; it raced her toward whatever was about to happen.

  But just then the slow, sleepy violin tune changed to a lively, jaunty rhythm, and she jumped again. This time, she did spill the cocoa, only a little, but it ran down her hand toward her sweatshirt sleeve. Without thinking, she licked it, and only then noticed Aaron still watching her. Intently.

  Her cheeks burned, and she looked down at the cup. You better take this,” she said. “Before I douse us both.” She handed him the cocoa and moved away, going for her pack and her cosmetics case. “I’m going to brush my teeth.” Once done, she brought her sleep sweats into the tent to change. Tents were definitely not made for standing. Crouching, she pulled her jeans off and nearly fell over, but managed to catch herself before she could go down and take the whole tent with her.

  She was way too aware of Aaron out there, separated by a flimsy layer of plastic, while she shuffled around in here.

  Half-naked.

  Her figure probably silhouetted against the tent by her camp light.

  Was he watching her? Despite the cold air prickling against her exposed skin, Alice was suddenly hot. She squinted, trying to see through the tent material, but the only thing visible was the faint glow of the fire.

  She pulled on her remaining clothes as quickly as she could. Boy, it was tight in here. Were they really going to sleep in this tent? The two of them…together? Alone all night?

  She emerged a minute later to find him staring into the dying fire.

  “I was going to throw some more wood on,” he said. “But we’d only have to put it out before bed.”

  That word echoed in her brain: bed.

  “Yeah.” She rejoined him on the tarp, but then Aaron rose to take care of his own needs. When he was done, he dragged their sleeping bags into the tent.

  Alice lingered on the tarp near the last remnants of their fire, but she couldn’t stay out here forever. And it was getting really cold now. He emerged from the tent and, without saying a word, sprinkled some of the dirt he’d dug out of the fire pit over the dying coals.

  That was it then. The fire was officially out. Nothing left to do but go to bed. In the tent. Alone with Aaron Malik. All. Night. Long.

  He held the flap open for her. Alice swallowed, and her throat clicked again. Grabbing a bottle of water, she climbed in. He’d laid their sleeping bags out, side by side. Close. So close. But then again, he did say he’d slept five in a tent like this.

  She snuggled down, resting her head on her blowup pillow. She’d never sleep. No way, no how.

  “Do you snore?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  “Nope. At least, I’ve never heard it.”

  “Very funny. Well, I hope not.”

  “What about you? You snore?”

  “Me? Never.”

  He laughed softly. “Do you think your parents will be mad when they find out you spent the night alone in a tent with a guy you hardly know?”

  She was silent for a long time. How to answer? The truth was, her mother had probably forgotten she was even on this little outing. “Well, it’s just me and my mom now. My dad – ” And here’s where it got hard.

  When would it stop hurting so much? All the counselors and the grief books said it took time. That the pain would dull and eventually go away. But it had been over two years since he’d gotten sick and nearly a year since he’d died. And it was almost as fresh as day one.

  “You okay?” Aaron said.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Spaced out there for a sec. My dad had cancer.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know. That really sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to comfort her or ply her with stupid, corny clichés, and she was grateful.

  “What about you?” she said. “Will your parents be mad for sleeping out here with a girl?”

  His sleeping bag rustled as he shook his head.

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Because they raised a proper Hindu boy. They know I’m a gentleman.”

  Some restless little flitting thing inside her settled down at those words. Only then did Alice realize she’d been frightened. She really didn’t know him well. It was probably dumb to assume he was trustworthy. But for some reason, she believed his words.

  And yet, a part of her was disappointed too, that he wasn’t going to try anything with her.

  “That must be nice,” Alice said. “To be so close to your religion. We’re Catholic but only go to church on holidays. Maybe you can tell me about Hinduism sometime.”

  “Sure,” he said, voice gone sleepy.

  “And in exchange, I’ll teach you how to build a kick-ass fire.”

  “Deal,” he said with a yawn.

  Alice woke with a start, completely disoriented as to where she was. She felt an arm wrapped around her – heavy, warm, almost protective – and a body pressed against hers.

  Aaron.

  As the memories of their situation came back, she became aware of his sleep-breath gently tickling her neck. He stirred slightly, snuggling closer.

  The layers of sleeping bag separating them felt both too thin and too thick.

  She stiffened, not knowing what to do. But her eyes were so heavy, and he was so warm. One of Aaron’s hands, resting against her, moved with her every breath. Not really meaning to, she covered it with her own hand, pulling it more firmly to her. Then Alice let her eyelids close until sleep took her again.

  When she woke, Aaron was still there. She’d rolled over in the night, and he was watching her.

  He smiled when she opened her eyes. “Morn
ing. Sleep okay?”

  “Like the dead. You?”

  “Same.”

  She sat up. “My hair must be a mess.” She felt her head, and indeed, her blond curls were sticking up at all angles. “What time is it?”

  Aaron’s jeans were in a pile next to his sleeping bag. He pulled a chain watch out of his pocket and snapped it open. “A little after six. And your hair looks fine, but your breath is awful.”

  “Hey.” She hit him with her pillow. It had deflated in the night, so all it did was brush limply off his arm.

  “Oh, you’re dangerous. I’d better watch out.”

  “Like your breath is any better.”

  Alice scrambled from her sleeping bag, planning to go right for her toothbrush, but Aaron grabbed her arm, and she plopped onto the warm pile of down.

  “I’m just kidding,” he said. “You’re fine.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” Just to be safe, she held her breath. “We’d better get going. Find the group.”

  “Yeah.” But instead of untangling himself from his own sleeping bag, Aaron wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down. He snuggled up against her back, and she felt that warm protective weight from last night.

  “Isn’t this nicer?” he asked. “It always takes me forever to get out of bed.”

  “I think I’m okay with that,” she whispered.

  All she wanted to do was roll over and wrap her arms around him, too. But she couldn’t move.

  He pulled her even closer. “Alice.”

  “Hmm?” She didn’t trust herself to say anything more because he was nuzzling his nose in her hair.

  “I have a secret to confess.”

  “Yeah?” she whispered.

  “Mrs. Kasbrack.”

  “Wait, what? My guidance counselor?”

  “Uh-huh. I kind of told her about Wilderland. That you might be interested.”

  “You did?”

  She felt his nod.

  “After Morris Beach. After meeting you.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” Alice rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look him in the face. “You did what?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Mad? Why would I be mad? But why’d you do it?”

  “I used to see you sometimes. With your camera. You’d get this look on your face when you knew what you wanted to shoot. The same look you had when you were working on the fire last night.”