The Jade Notebook Read Free

With every step, sand squishes between my toes and sea-foam licks my heels. Wendell moves my hand to his face, lets his lips run up the sensitive inside of my arm. Tiny shocks of pleasure ripple across my skin.
    When he looks up, his eyes glisten with an idea. “Hey, Z. Let’s meet here for the handfasting.”
    I stare, surprised. Surprised in a good way, a
bien padre
way. Last year, when Wendell spent the summer with me in France, we did a Celtic handfasting ritual, a promise to be together for a year and a day. We were told to choose a special meeting place for our next handfasting, on August second. If we both show up, then we renew our promise. If one of us doesn’t come, our bond is broken and we agree to move on. I didn’t realize he’d taken it so seriously, that he’d actually been on the lookout for the right spot.
    My gaze sweeps over the beach, at our moon shadows stretching far in front of us. We’re standing beside a huge driftwood log, exactly in the middle of a long crescent of sand. One side is lined with jungle, rising into the majestic cliffs of Punta Cometa, and on the other, the surf forms a scalloped lace pattern at our feet. Yes, this is perfect. I mark an X on the sand. “Right here,” I say, smiling. “This very spot.”
    “August second, at midnight,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
    “Midnight,” I repeat, raising my face toward his.
    Our lips are on the verge of touching when that noise thunders from the forest above. It’s not as close this time, but it’s clearly audible over the pounding waves.
    I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the sound to fade into the rush of surf.
    Wendell pulls away from me, scanning the cliffs. “What was that?” His eyebrows furrow. “I heard the same sound at dinner, Z. When you were on your walk. I was a little worriedabout you, actually.” He squints up at the trees. “What do you think it is?”
    “I don’t know. But I’m not letting it scare me.” I twist my finger around my wind-tangled hair, deciding how much more to say. “I heard it earlier tonight, too,” I admit. “Loud. And close.”
    “Why didn’t you say something?” His voice is full of concern. “Where’d it come from?”
    “The place in the jungle with those weird signs.”
    “The Forbidden Territory?” he asks, frowning. Up to now, whenever we’ve mentioned the Forbidden Territory, it’s been to joke around. As in,
If you don’t help me take out this trash, I’ll banish you to the Forbidden Territory
. But now, his voice is serious, worried. “What did it sound like up close, Z?”
    I shrug. “Just—loud. And deep. Kind of rumbling. It’s probably some crazy echo from the cliffs.”
    He doesn’t look convinced. Chewing on a fingernail, he stares up at the jungle. His wariness puts me on edge; he’s not a person who scares easily.
    I’m almost angry at that noise for breaking the mood. Determined, I set my jaw. “Listen, Wendell, just forget about it. Let’s enjoy ourselves, okay?”
    And to prove the point, I sink to the sand, pulling him down with me. Easily, he surrenders.
    “As long as we don’t get devoured,” he murmurs, kissing my ear.
    “Or eliminated,” I counter.
    “Or cursed.”
    “That would be the worst.…”
    Within minutes, we’ve lost ourselves in salty skin and sea spray, and after a while, we fall into a delicious half-sleep induced by ocean waves.

    Some time later, my eyes open. Wendell is nudging me gently. I prop myself on my elbow, brush the sand from my cheek. With a finger to his lips, he motions to an enormous dark form in the surf just meters away.
    “What is it?” he whispers.
    I rub my eyes and stand up, brushing more sand from my dress, my legs, my shoulders. Wendell’s already walking toward the thing. Following him, I squint in the faint moonlight. In a sleep-scratchy voice, I speculate, “Some kind of sea creature?” When he stops at a distance, I stand beside him, blinking, sensing that we’re