Darkheart

The Past: Lost & Found

There was nothing like being on the water, zipping along at the bow of a boat, sun warming bare skin while the water sprayed refreshment in a fine mist. Under any other circumstances, Heather would've been in some kind of heaven, but as things were, she was moody and quiet, something her peers noted and commented on more than once. It wasn't that she was ungrateful for them, for Ashley's cousin who owned the amazing bowrider that had taken them out, for the conviviality the others encouraged, for the absolutely immaculate weather or the sapphire lake and sky. No, she wasn't ungrateful, and she wasn't selfish. She just literally couldn't figure out how to dissemble delight when everything was so, so wrong.

She'd not told anyone about what she'd seen on the resort, especially Danny. Her feelings toward him were an uncomfortable mangle of germinating resentment and complex affection. She felt at once no loyalty and complete loyalty to him, and her inner contention had been only exacerbated by what she'd seen on the Fourth, not lessened. She was wary of trusting him with any information, felt sure he'd laugh at her, wouldn't believe her. And her mother? Well, Heather hadn't had a proper talk with her mother in years. Like many mothers and daughters traversing the latter's adolescence, they'd grown apart. Tthough there'd been moments when Heather had wanted to open up, to seek advice, to question the right and wrong of her inconstant world, she'd needed a push, and for whatever reasons, her mother had never thought it necessary to provide one. Perhaps it'd been lethargy or a blindness to her daughter's needs, or maybe it'd been only that the distractions of the woman's own life had been as much as she'd been able to handle--wherever the neglect originated, Heather, in her impressionable manner, had interpreted it as a general lack of interest and had responded accordingly by distancing herself further.

But the tension of knowing what had happened to Ignacio, of the terror of that night and the fear of what it might mean and what might come--it was building in her. She didn't want to talk to the other three: Kevin and Jeremiah and Crystal. She hardly knew them, first of all, and even worse, speaking with them in all their solemnity made it too real. They brought that night back to her in all its horrifying colors.

Still, if she kept it all in, she'd surely lose her mind!

"Hey." One of the girls with whom Heather had spent much time the past school year approached.

The engine had been shut off; the boat now floated atop the exquisitely calm water. Ashley and her cousin and a few of the others who'd come along for the ride were socializing in the spacious cockpit. Someone started playing music. Coolers were opened. Voices picked up, audible now that they weren't in motion.

Heather remained at the bow, long bare legs up on the otherwise empty bench, toes pointed toward the prow. "Hi, Amanda."

"I like that color," the girl said, sitting across from Heather and pointing at her feet.

Wiggling her toes, Heather thanked her friend. In an effort to keep herself distracted, she'd painted her nails a periwinkle blue the night before. They complemented her celestial-patterned tank, which she'd tied in a knot above her belly button, and her white cut-off shorts. She'd worn her hair in a long, shimmering ponytail, stud earrings the same color as her eyes sparking in her lobes. Her skin was smooth and glowing, tanned to perfection without any striving on her part. Heather knew she looked flawless even if she didn't feel it. At least she held that confidence. She always had.

Amanda, petite and curvy and cute, in general possessed an amiable though relatively dull character. The two had never been more than surface friends, near one another though never close to one another, yet there Amanda was, handing Heather some sort of fruity bubbly definitely-alcoholic beverage in an apparent attempt to check in on her. "Why are you all alone? Is everything ok?"