Chapter 39

James drove in circles until he almost ran out of gas. The twenty minute trip home from August's took four hours.

What should he say? What could he say? Hey man, so, about that coup in Pakistan. Or better yet, I stole data from your computer and broke your steganography. I know everything.

But all James actually knew was that UCC had developed an artificial intelligence that, for some fucking reason, was stirring up trouble all over the world.

Who was pulling the strings? What was the point of it all?

James had questions, too many of them, but no plan for what to do when they were answered. He had responsibilities—to his mother, chiefly, but also to his half-sister, his friends, and himself. If he ended up in a windowless cell or in the river with concrete shoes, what would happen to those responsibilities?

But the responsibility James had been neglecting was to his best friend. Maybe it was too late to go back, but he had to try, or live every day with a bitter taste in his mouth.

When he at last resolved to get in the car and go, his phone beeped. A text message from Casey, uncharacteristically short and to the point.

can u come 2 the park? plz.

***

The night was as black in Laurentia as in the boroughs, the air cool but not uncomfortable. The snow that had carpeted the ground for the holidays had melted away.

The park was as deserted as it had ever been. James saw no one until the central area by the fountain. Deep in the shadow of one of the trees, a figure sat with knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them.

"Casey?"

Even for a deserted park in the middle of the night, her answer was quiet. "You came," she said, without looking up.

James maneuvered into position, sitting against the same tree a quarter turn around the trunk, just far enough from Casey that their elbows didn't touch.

He waited for her to gather her thoughts. Donald would still be there tomorrow. Things could stay as they had been for one more night.

That was fine.

"Can I tell you 'bout Mom 'n Dad?" Casey said.

Of all the topics James expected to be called out in the middle of the night to discuss, that hadn't been near the top of the list. "Go ahead."

"They're great." Casey's voice was barely a whisper, but her enunciations seemed clearer than usual. "They're, like ... upstanding citizens."

James had to smile. "I see."

"Everyone from Texas is big on national pride 'n all. When Bro joined the army, they were so proud." Casey ran her fingers through the blades of grass that lay just between her hand and his. "They're teachers. Mom 'n Dad, I mean. Mom always was. But Dad was in the army. Drill sergeant, just like the movies. Ten-hut, soldier. Fifteen laps for sleepin through your alarm. You cry, it'll be twenty." She chuckled, a dry sound with none of her usual spirit. "They're both always serious. 'N I know my bro had to deal with it most. 'Cause I'm a girl, they laid off me a lot. He went to keep the peace 'n I just stayed home 'n did track 'n sang songs."

Casey rustled, rearranging herself against the tree. "Dad's been goin on 'bout how great it is to serve 'n see combat. He never got to, always doin drills. Mom, she's ... not takin it real well ... 'n Dad just goes on 'bout honor... they can't hardly talk to each other now, they just start fightin..."

James leaned his head back against the tree as she trailed off, staring up through the canopy to the sky above, and all the stars. Billions of them. Strange how they looked close together, but were so far apart.

"I tried stoppin 'em." Casey's hand left the grass and began to pick at the bark of the tree. "Sayin like how I'm sure bro's listenin, don't fight 'cause he'd be sad. Dumb little girl stuff. They got mad 'n started yellin ... 'n Mom, she hates music. It's like ... corruptin the youth. So 70s, right? But she let me do the band 'cause I was always spoiled." Casey picked and picked at the bark, much too hard. "When I tried to stop 'em fightin, she said I'm just a stupid kid 'n I'm not livin right 'n God's punishing us 'cause I'm a bad person. So I gotta quit music 'n games, 'n I gotta study 'n go to church more. I'm not even 'sposed to be here now but I ran away 'cause I needed to talk, 'n 'cause I wanted to see you, but I can't 'cause you're so far away 'n I dunno what to do 'n everything's so messed up." On the word up, her voice caught, and then the tears came in a torrent.

Casey wiped savagely at her eyes, nails torn and bloody and speared beneath with chips of bark, so James grabbed her wrists and held them until all the fight went out of her. She sagged forward into his shoulder and lay there, each breath catching in her throat.

"It's alright," James said, knowing it wasn't. "It's alright."

He released her wrists and her arms went around his back and clung there desperately.

"I d-don't ... w-wanna quit," Casey said, between shuddering breaths, and although her mouth was right next to his ear, she was almost inaudible. "I don't wanna give up music, 'n I don't wanna lose my friends, 'n if God had to punish me why didn't he punish me 'n not Bro, Bro didn't do anything bad, he was helping people." She gulped in air as if she was drowning.

"What happened?"

"An officer came," Casey said.  The weight of her head against his shoulder became almost unbearable. "A lieutenant. He was nice. Worst job ever, huh? Watchin people cry 'cause someone won't be comin home."

***

"Thanks." Casey could finally speak again. "For coming to see me." Her diction was clearer than ever, gravely serious and precise. She stared fixedly down at her hands.

James rubbed the back of his neck. He raised his beer and looked at it, then replaced it on the table without drinking.

Casey had always seemed like the world's happiest person, living its most perfect life. That had never been true. And seeing from the outside all the ways that things could go wrong for her from this moment on, James finally saw so clearly how they had gone wrong for himself. All the mistakes he had made.

Mistakes he had made. Not fate, not God or any god, not Dawn or Richard Kirkpatrick, not the doctors who could do nothing to return his mother to the body she had fled. His own mistakes.

"Prez," Casey said, then caught herself. "I mean ... James. Sorry. I know you hate bein Prez. I always forget 'n I hate that about me. I won't forget anymore, so ... James." She was still staring down at her hands, as if she had scribbled notes on them that she needed for reference.

"I hate it when Donald says it, not when you do. Call me whatever you want."

"Whatever I want..." Casey said, and finally looked up, catching his eye briefly before looking down again. "I like ... Prez. But I kinda like ... James too ... I dunno. They're both you."

"That's true." James took a small swallow of beer.

"...Prez..." Casey said, and he watched as she struggled to decide whether that was the term she wanted. Such a small thing to worry over, but in her mind, deeply significant.

"Yeah."

"What should I do...?" Casey asked, and looked up. Those enormous blue eyes made something inside his chest start squeezing off the flow of blood.

"About what?"

"Just ... everything."

James leaned back into the booth and blew out a breath, turning his gaze to the fan that spun lazily on the ceiling, circulating the musty air.

If only you knew the kind of person you were asking.

What an irony that there was no one else. With things the way they were, it couldn't be her parents.

And it couldn't be her brother, now or ever again.

"S-sorry," Casey said, with a slight hiccup, and when James looked back to her, her terrified expression was a knife in the gut. "I know you don't like it when I get personal ... 'n I did it again ... I'm s-sorry." She looked down and trembled.

"That's not it." James obliterated every trace of anger from his voice, even though that anger was directed only at himself. "Don't worry about that anymore. I was just thinking that I'm the wrong person to ask, because I've been through it, and blew it in every possible way. Though maybe I learned something in the process."

"Please tell me." There was a beer in front of her, and Casey wrapped her hands around it without picking it up.

How delicate and feminine those hands looked when they weren't clad for battle.

"Let me ask something," James said.

"Okay."

"It's good to live for today, but tomorrow is a reality, too. When you're old looking back, what do you want to say about your life?"

Casey picked up the beer and drank, put it down and stared into it, picked it up and drank again. "I don't wanna just ... survive. I wanna say ... that it was fun. Not just fun. I wanna say ... that I left something behind."

"Your brother left something behind. Didn't he?"

Casey nodded. "All the people that he helped."

"That was his path. What will yours be?" Thinking of how he had left school, and all the nothing he had accomplished since then, encouraging Casey to take a similar direction seemed foolish. But Casey Carter was not James Kirkpatrick, and her strengths and burdens were her own. "You could get a degree and a white-collar job and be happy. But could and should are not the same. Your brother had something he believed in. Do you?"

Casey's eyes lifted to the mirror that stretched along the wall next to their booth. She stared into it and through it, as if it contained a portal to another place and time. "I told ya how I really liked running track 'n how I wanted to be a pro because Bro never got to, right?"

"You did."

"Couple years back, I trained, like real hard. There was a trainer 'n she worked with me every day. I had a list of things I couldn't eat 'n all I did besides school was running." A half-smile played over Casey's face, the ghost of a happier time. "At the state meet, I came in second in the 100 'n third in the 200. Everyone at the school was like, totally amazed. I got a plaque 'n shook hands with the dean." That small smile grew, then faded away. "I got an invite to nationals, but I didn't go. I already knew. My trainer, too. She didn't tell me how great I was. Anyone who can't get first at state has no chance of goin pro. After that year, I knew. I couldn't do it."

All the people that had ever thought of Casey as naive, James included, had been the naive ones. Making such a mature judgment against her own wishes was proof enough of that.

"I got depressed," Casey went on, and her eyes in the mirror were still locked on something far away. "Y'know, I'm dumb 'n silly, but I was always best at sports 'n I thought that was enough. Then I realized ... it's not. I was flunkin tests 'n my reports were red marks all up 'n down. I didn't know what to do. So I started Shattered Land. It was like gettin back a place where just bein strong 'n fast made me special. But it wasn't real. Y'know?"

"Only too well."

"But I met Kana." Casey's small smile returned, this time untinged by melancholy. "She was under a tree 'n playin with the little blue guy 'n she was hummin. She talked to me, 'n she seemed friendly. We got talkin 'bout music, 'n outta nowhere she asked if I wanted to make a band. 'N I was all like ... huh? And then we did."

James let out a short breath of amusement. The story was very Kanade and Casey.

Casey chuckled with him, then stilled. "Ever since, I was never sad. I always knew what to do on bad days. Sing a song and it'll be okay." Casey nodded to herself. "Kana says music is a language that talks to everyone. Music helped me. When I'm old, that's what I wanna say. I wanna leave behind a song that'll help someone."

"You can say it now. The song you played at the Colosseum helped someone. It helped me."

Casey's eyes grew big and her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"I'm sorry," James said. "That I didn't talk to you back then. Your lyrics hit the nail on the head. I didn't even realize what I had become. I'm not exactly fixed yet," he tapped the side of his head, "but you did reach me. So, thanks."

Casey stared at him like he had grown a second head, and then a couple of teardrops beaded in the corners of her eyes and slowly trickled down. She reached up and touched the wet trail. "Dummy," she said. "Makin me cry again after all that."

"Sing a song, and it'll be okay."

"Yeah." Casey nodded. "Yeah." Then she smiled.

bowed beneath the world
strong enough to stand and sing
sunlight hair and smile