Darkness Before Dawn Read Free

think they were braided together. He’d breathe out and she’d breathe in. I didn’t have anybody, and that’s the way I wanted it. I didn’t think I would ever find anyone else. I’d known Andy since kindergarten. How could someone come and replace eleven years of memories?
    It was time for the all-school picnic. I remember sighing as I packed a bag to take—a deck of cards, a can of bugspray, a Frisbee, even my swimming suit, but I doubted if I would swim this year. This picnic was always the best part of the school year. On the Saturday after the last day of school, everybody went to Houston Woods State Park, where we had races and games, cooked hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, rented paddleboats and rowboats, sang songs and told ghost stories by the fire until midnight. Teachers brought their own kids, students brought their little brothers and sisters, and all the hard work of the school year was forgotten in the flickering of the bonfire at the end of the day. Andy and I had always taken Monty along. He wouldn’t sleep for a week in anticipation.
    I decided to call Monty to see if he’d like to go with me this year.
    â€œI’m scared to go, Keisha,” Monty admitted after a silence.
    â€œWhy, Monty?”
    â€œâ€˜Cause Andy won’t be there,” Monty said quietly. “And I’m scared of the ghost stories.”
    â€œWe can leave before dark. I promise.”
    â€œBut the fire in the dark is the best part.” Monty was worried. “Keisha?” he asked.
    â€œYes, Monty.”
    â€œIs Andy a ghost now?”
    I saw now what was frightening Monty. “No, Monty, I don’t think so,” I said honestly. “Andy is in a good place, where he is happy and at peace. Besides, ghosts aren’t real and Andy is real. He will always be real as long as you love him and I love him.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Monty asked.
    â€œAs sure as I can be, Monty. I know that Andy misses you as much as you miss him. But come to the picnic with me. There’ll be lots of other kids there, and you need to have some fun. Tell your mom I’ll pick you up at three.”
    â€œOK, Keisha. Thanks.”
    When we got to the picnic, most of my friends were already there. B. J. was sitting under a tree with the smallest children, telling them stories and helping them sing songs. I waved at him, and he waved back, smiling. B. J. was either going to be a preacher or a teacher—everybody said so. He loved kids, especially the younger ones. Maybe that’s because they were smaller than he was. B. J. was only five feet tall, but he was tough and wiry and knew tae kwon do. Kids seemed to collect around him wherever he went. He had managed to collect several younger siblings of the senior class, as well as several children of faculty members. The five-year-old twins of Mr. Jasper, the art teacher, each grabbed one of B. J.’s hands as they dragged him to where their dad was painting the faces of the little ones. He grinned at me as the kids pushed him into Mr. Jasper’s lawn chair and he pretended to protest as tiger stripes were painted on his cheeks.
    The principal, Mr. Hathaway, was cheerfully grilling hamburgers. With him was a young man who was obviously his son, but I’d never seen him before. Mr. Hathaway was tall, with caramel-colored skin. He had probably been good-looking thirty years before, and had very unusual hazel, almost golden eyes. Andy used to tease the freshmenand tell them that Hathaway had X-ray vision, because nothing seemed to get by him; those eyes seemed to pierce right into a kid who got caught doing something wrong. Mr. Hathaway’s son, who was delivering ice and soda to his father, looked like a younger, tighter version of his dad. He was muscular, slim, and strikingly good-looking, for his hazel eyes decorated perfectly his honey-bronzed face. His movements, as he lifted the heavy boxes, reminded me of