Her Name in the Sky (7 page)

He walks over and hugs Hannah, and she can smell the cologne on his clothes.
It’s good
, she tells herself, breathing in his scent.
It’s good. It’s good.
 

Baker breezes into the house a few minutes later, grocery bags cutting into her arms and long brown hair falling over her floral-patterned dress, and Hannah concentrates hard on the lingering smell of Wally’s cologne. But then Baker pulls her aside and sneaks her a pack of Peanut M&M’S—Hannah’s favorite—out of one of the grocery bags, and Hannah forgets Wally altogether.

They finish clearing the space in the family room and start with their party preparations. Luke and Wally fill two ice coolers with beer while Hannah and Baker set up card tables and Joanie opens bags of Solo cups.

“Elixir de Landry,” Clay says haughtily, peering over the punch bowl.

“Oh my god, you made that again?” Joanie says.

“I did.”

“I thought we told you to stop calling it that,” Hannah says.

“Why would I do that?” Clay says, looking back at her over his shoulder.

“Not sure why we’re having this discussion,” Luke says, stepping away from the coolers to fill a cup with Clay’s punch. “I love this shit.”

“It’s going to get us all obliterated,” Wally says, “but I love it, too.”

The three boys stand over the punch bowl and sip from their drinks while Hannah, Baker, and Joanie shoot looks at each other. “That is some fucking good shit,” Clay says, tapping his cup against Wally’s and Luke’s.

Minutes later, just before the party starts, Hannah notices Clay has taped a sign below the punch bowl.

Elixir de Landry
, the sign reads.
Bringing you unprecedented pleasure since 2011.

Hannah pours herself a cup of the orange beverage and takes a long sip of it, resenting how good it tastes.

“Damn him,” she says.

“I know,” says Joanie.

Clay invites Baker to light the outdoor torches with him, so Hannah nudges Wally and says, “Come on, let’s go with them.” Clay’s face shows a half-second of irritation before he smiles and says, “Yeah, come on, let’s all go.”

The six of them traipse across the sprawling backyard and walk along the perimeter of the property, where a rickety old fence separates the Landry’s yard from the steep decline into the woods below. They stop at each torch and watch Clay create fire out of his hands, and for a few minutes none of them speaks.

Joanie is the one to break the silence. “Not to be an ass,” she says, her face scrunched up in the orange-gold glow of the torches, “but what’s the point of this? Aren’t we going to be inside? It’s cold out tonight.”

“Because it looks awesome,” Clay says. “Plus the party might get really crowded and people may want to come outside. We don’t know who all’s gonna show up.”

“It’s a neat effect,” Wally says, sliding his palm across the air, his hand following the curving line of torches as if he could make each one light up with magic. “I always love when your dad lights these in the summer.”

“It’s really pretty,” Baker says, her expression pensive. “It’s almost mystical.”

They continue along toward the center of the torches, each of them following Clay’s steps like a group of preschoolers playing Follow the Leader, until they stop at a particularly pathetic-looking section of the fence. “That’s where Ethan and I crashed Dad’s lawn mower through the fence,” Clay says, pointing at the thin planks of wood. Hannah peers closer and sees that these planks have a fresher color than the rest of the wooden fence. “We wanted to see what would happen if something fell down that hill.”

“It’s a steep drop,” Wally says, craning his neck forward.

“Yeah. Ethan used to say he was gonna kick me over it. Probably would’ve killed me.”

“What happened to the mower?” Baker asks.

“It crashed and burned,” Clay shrugs. “The body of it was all contorted and there was smoke coming out of it and everything.”

Luke laughs. “You and Ethan did some dumb shit when you were kids.”

“We weren’t even kids,” Clay says. “We were, like, 12 and 17.”

“Your mom must’ve wanted to kill you,” Joanie says.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Clay says. “She freaked out over the whole thing. She never even wanted to buy this house just ‘cause of that stupid hill.”

Hannah crouches down to examine the fence. In the dancing glow of the torch fire, the wood seems pained and helpless, a break in the chain that never full mended.

“Careful,” Clay says. “It’s not very sturdy. Dad made Ethan and I repair it and we took to it like a couple of girls.”

“Hey,” Hannah says, kicking dirt at his legs. “Watch it.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Clay says. “But seriously, we had no idea what we were doing. A butterfly could land on that thing and it would probably fall over.”

“You two are idiots,” Joanie says.

“Yep,” Clay says, arching his eyebrows, but there’s a peculiar strain of pride in his voice. “Anyway, let’s get back inside. I want to test the Elixir one more time before everyone gets here. Got to make sure it’s Landry standard.”

The house has swelled with people by ten o’clock. The music is ear-achingly loud, and the air is humid with breath and sweat, and Hannah feels that she might be drunk just by standing in the middle of the party.

“Let’s get drinks,” she says, touching Baker’s arm, and Baker nods and follows her toward the punch table. They wind their way through a dozen people, all of whom want to hug them and ask how their break has been so far, and scoot past Michele Duquesne, who eyes them warily as they go by.

“It’s crazy in here,” Baker says when they’re standing by themselves.

“I know. I didn’t expect it to be at this level already. Do you want some of Clay’s punch?”

“Sure. Not too much.”

“I won’t,” Hannah promises, and she makes sure to measure out a small amount.

Everything starts to look softer and warmer—all yellow and gold and orange hues—and the music starts to get even louder, standing as it is on the shoulders of teens. Hannah’s arm muscles slacken and her vision dims, but the magic of the night, the rawness of it, starts to grow in contrast.

“You okay?” Baker asks, setting her dark eyes on her.

“Yeah,” Hannah answers, “just a little tipsy.”

Baker touches her wrist. “I’ll watch out for you.”

Clay finds them after a while. His face is ruddy and bright, the way it always looks when he’s in his element like this, walking around and courting people, finding classmates who validate him and smile at all of his jokes. “Let’s get drunk, y’all!” he says, and when Baker gives him a hesitant smile, he places an arm on her waist and says, “What are you holding back for? It’s our last high school Mardi Gras.”

“I’m not holding back,” she says. “I’m just pacing myself.”

“Let me make you a drink. I promise it won’t be too strong.”

“Says Mr. Elixir-de-Landry,” Hannah says.

Clay shoots her a look. “We’re talking about Baker here,” he says. “I’m not going to get her wasted or something.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Alright,” Baker says, offering her cup. “Mix me something. But nothing too strong!”

“You got it,” Clay grins as he turns away.

“Clay—” Hannah says.

“Yeah?”

Hannah hesitates. “Watch out for Michele. She’s had her eyes on you all night.”

Clay’s expression darkens. “I know. She’s already sneaked up on me twice.”

“Be careful,” Baker laughs. “She’ll get you.”

Clay’s happy look returns. “Yeah,” he says, resting his eyes on her, “I guess I do have to be careful, huh?”

Luke and Wally find them, their smiles eager like little boys’, their temples glistening with sweat. Wally sports an orange stain on his white shirt—“Luke knocked my cup over,” he says, self-consciously following Hannah’s eyes—and Luke wears Joanie’s scarf around his waist, tied low and carelessly like a pirate’s sash.

“This orange shit is getting to me,” Luke says as he hangs his arms over Hannah’s and Baker’s shoulders. “The hell did Clay put in that mix?”

“Insecticides,” Hannah says.

“And maybe some bleach,” Baker says with a glance to Hannah.

“And just a dash of Kool-Aid to make it taste good.”

“He’s a master,” Luke says reverently.

Hannah drinks another cup of Elixir de Landry, and now her muscles feel even slacker and her chest feels heavier. “You alright?” Wally says, placing an arm on the small of her back, and she swats at him and says “I’m fine, Wall,” until he drops his hand.

The room continues to darken and the shouts of Hannah’s classmates get louder and looser. Hannah sips from her drink without thinking about it, until it’s empty once again and she has to mix a fourth drink. “I’ll do it,” Clay says, holding out his hand for her cup. “Baker, you want another one too?”

The music changes to a song they all love. They throw themselves into the crowd, hugging and shouting and singing, Luke hopping from one foot to the other in a bizarre dance, Wally nodding his head over and over in a kind of trance, and Clay returns with fresh drinks and a roar of delight, and Joanie jumps on Luke’s back from behind, and they all sing the lyrics together, clapping for each other’s melodramatic gestures, drinking from their cups when they’re not sure how to match their dancing to the beat, but most of all falling into the music, into the crowd, into each other.

Hannah feels exuberant—freer in a way than she has ever been before. She clutches her drink and bobs where she stands, watching the people dance all around her, and for just this moment, for just this second of her life, she feels whole, she feels at ease, she feels like she could exist in this cocoon of time forever and ever. She looks at Baker, standing there with her long brown hair falling over her shoulders and her dark chicory eyes blessing everyone around her, and tenderness pours forth from Hannah’s chest like light from a broken vessel.

“Outside?” Baker says, catching Hannah’s eye.

They step out onto the back porch and close the door on the party behind them. Hannah knows the air is cold, but she doesn’t feel it.  Her body is warm and her muscles feel like jelly. She steps forward, closer to the yard, and watches the mesmerizing torches in the distance.

“Baker,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I might be drunk.”

Baker laughs. “I can tell.”

“What? No you can’t.”

“You keep combing your hair over your face. You only do that when you’re drunk.”

Hannah smiles. She extends her hand toward Baker. “Come sit with me.”

Baker takes her hand, and Hannah pulls her toward the porch steps. But when Hannah spins back around to sit down, she loses her balance and knows a split-second’s terror as she falls forward off the steps.

But then Baker is there, quick and steady in her movements. She wrenches Hannah back, gripping her left wrist and the right side of her waist. “Whoa, drunky,” she says, guiding Hannah to sit down on the steps. “Let’s not ruin the night with a bad fall.”

“Sorry,” Hannah laughs.

“You okay?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

They sit still for long minutes, simply breathing. Baker pulls absentmindedly on the hem of her dress until Hannah grabs her hand and stills her fingers.

“Thanks,” Baker says. “Hey, Han?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Clay likes me?”

Hannah stops breathing. “I don’t know.” She hesitates. “Why?”

“I think he does,” Baker says, her eyes narrowed at the dead grass in the yard. “But I don’t think I like him. Do you think that’s bad?”

“Why would that be bad?”

Baker doesn’t reply. They sit in silence in the cold air, and Hannah feels Baker’s energy all around her.

“Sometimes I can’t wait to graduate,” Baker says after a long minute.

Hannah lets the words wash over her. “I never want to graduate,” she says.

Time passes over them. They walk back inside and the party absorbs them again, and Hannah marks the minutes by the songs that play through the speakers. She loves every song that comes on, even the ones she usually skips when she hears them on the radio, and as she looks around the room, she feels elated to see Joanie and Luke belting out lyrics until their faces turn red; to see Clay raising his cup into the air in the middle of the crowd; to see Wally, who rarely sings, throwing his arms around his track teammates and letting them pull him into the song; and to see Baker, who stands next to her, laughing hard as she mixes up lyrics, her skin flushed and her eyes bright.

Hannah’s not sure how it happens. One moment her friends are all walking toward them, and then the six of them are singing in a circle, their arms laced around each other’s waists and their drinks spilling onto each other’s clothes, and the next moment Clay’s trying to kiss at Baker’s cheek. Hannah watches, in a drunken daze, as Clay’s lips graze Baker’s face once, twice, and as Baker jerks back and gives him a look that’s entirely sober, and entirely unlike any look Hannah has ever seen her give before. And then Baker’s gone, and Clay’s looking in confusion at Wally and Luke, and Hannah finds herself suspended in time, until all of a sudden she blinks herself back into awareness and moves into the crowd, following Baker’s path out of the room.