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1995
Nat didn’t mean for it to happen. She did her best to avoid Jackie, actually, with her picture perfect suburban house, boyfriend, and outfits.
Nat wasn’t the one who decided they’d be on opposite sides of the scrimmage, that was Coach Scott, and she wasn’t even the one going in Jackie’s direction; one second Jackie was watching the ball pass between Lottie and Mari, and the next she was running for it, slamming into Nat, and they were both on the ground.
They both groaned at the same time at the impact. “What the fuck?” Nat muttered, ribs aching through a breath. She was sure she was going to wake up with a nasty bruise.
Jackie also managed to land on top of her, her torso diagonal across Nat’s, and face caked with dirt from where it hit the ground. She shoved Jackie off, and which made her let out a yelp of pain. Nat almost felt bad, even though, again, this was Jackie’s fucking fault.
She pulled herself on her elbows to squint at the field. Her head still spun, and the sun was particularly bright that day, which didn’t help. She saw Mari fighting off a laugh a few feet away and Lottie staring at them like her brain still hadn’t caught up to what happened.
Surprisingly, Shauna hadn’t started sprinting to check on Jackie yet, but then Nat remembered she was absent that day. Something about the stomach bug, which must have been why Jackie was so off.
Coach Scott arrived by their sides. Misty followed him, first aid kit already gripped tightly in her hands. She looked ready to spring onto them, eyes bright with too much excitement for two of their best players being injured, but before she could, Coach Scott asked, “You girls good?”
Jackie gripped her head. “I think I just gave myself a concussion.”
Coach Scott’s eyebrows drew together. “You can’t joke about that.”
“No, I’m serious.” Jackie tried to sit up like Nat, but she winced the entire time. Nat couldn’t tell how much of it was melodrama versus actual pain. She was clearly fine enough to throw Nat a glare for unknown reasons. She was probably just lashing out because Shauna wasn’t there to kiss her better, but Nat gave her a healthy glower back instead of saying that.
“I can check her!” Misty offered. Her cheeks were flushed red like she was developing a sunburn as she looked at Coach Scott for approval with a grin. “I know the signs of a concussion. Half of the kids I babysat got one!”
That was a pretty terrible statistic. Nat wondered what Misty was doing to those kids.
Coach hesitated, then nodded. “See if we need to take her to the hospital.”
Misty dropped to her knees instantly in front of Jackie. “Follow my finger.”
The two of them were quiet as Jackie’s eyes traced the arc of Misty’s hand. Nat did too, watching as it dipped up and down, then side to side. The skin on it was so smooth, like Misty never did more than lift a pencil in her life. For all Nat knew, that was true.
Jackie seemed fine. Everyone’s attention was locked on her anyway, even as Nat brought herself to stand and wobbled slightly, still dizzy from the fall.
Misty glanced at her as Nat tipped, and for a moment Nat thought she was going to ask if she was okay, too. Their eyes locked and Misty’s mouth opened, the smile she had with Jackie fading into a frown of concern, but then Jackie groaned. It was probably more out of the loss of attention than pain, but Misty’s gaze darted right back to her.
“Okay, repeat this series of numbers backwards,” Misty said. Jackie nodded intently.
Nat rolled her eyes and headed for the locker room, chest tight. She’d probably have enough time to smoke before Jackie’s antics were done.
1996
Everything was fucked. It had been fucked for a long time, since May and the plane crashed, or maybe even before then, but now it was even more fucked, because winter came and decided to make itself right at home in their cabin.
Lottie decided to take full advantage of this, talking about the Wilderness and belief and other stuff she was obviously pulling out of her ass. If there was one thing Nat learned in life, it was that believing didn’t do shit. She used to think if she wished hard enough all of her problems would go away, but realized by age ten that it didn’t work like that. When your problems went away, new ones came right in.
She just…well, she always knew Misty was smart. She was one of those kids who raised their hands in class so much the teacher would sigh and go “anyone except Misty?”, making everyone else look awkwardly down at their desks to avoid being called on.
So Nat was having a hard time understanding why she of all people was going all-in on Lottie’s cult. She watched her follow Lottie around with a dopey smile, willingly sitting in the freezing cold to sit and talk about their feelings, or whatever they did out there, and nod solemnly when Lottie thanked the Wilderness gods for their meals.
She caught Misty’s arm one day before she headed out to the prayer circle. It was a morning Nat and Travis were caught inside from a snowstorm; he hated when they didn’t go out, but Nat always had to tell him that the two of them going missing wouldn’t help Javi. You know, a helpful thing to tell someone with a missing 12 year old brother, not whatever Lottie was whispering in his ear.
“Oh,” Misty said, startling.
“You don’t need to go out with her,” Nat said. She stared Misty down, watching as her face tensed, then relaxed, then tensed, and then finally calmed.
She let out an unnatural giggle. “I know.”
“Misty. Come on.”
Misty’s eyes dropped to where Nat still held her arm. She studied it for a few seconds, long enough that Nat had to fight to not ask what she was thinking—usually she was perfectly happy to not know Misty’s internal monologue, but now the silence between them made her want to yank her thoughts from her head.
Eventually, Misty pulled her arm back. There was hardly any force behind it, but Nat let her go without fighting. She didn’t even know why she grabbed her in the first place. It wasn’t like she was that desperate to have Misty on her side. Though it was strange not to.
“I’m going because I want to,” Misty said, but her voice shook.
“Don’t be stupid,” Nat bit out. Misty’s expression shuttered.
“I’m not being stupid.” She lifted her chin up. “You should come. Lottie can teach you—”
“Lottie can’t teach me shit,” Nat spat. “Don’t tell me you actually believe anything she’s saying.”
Misty hesitated. Then, when Nat smiled, because she got her, Misty knew that Nat knew this was bullshit, she said, quickly, “I do.”
Nat raised her eyebrows. Misty couldn’t seriously think she was being convincing. “You can stay here. You don’t have to go out there…” Misty glanced back at the door, and Nat tried again, pushing out, “You can stay with me!”
She got a dose of satisfaction when she saw how that made Misty still and turn from the door. It almost made up for how humiliating this felt, being practically on her hands and knees for Misty’s approval. She was quickly forgetting why she was doing this in the first place. What about having Misty on her side was so necessary? Why wasn’t she half as bothered by how Van was going out there with Lottie everyday, too?
Because Van was Tai’s girlfriend, and Tai clearly showed enough concern over her friendship with Lottie. So Nat didn’t need to worry about Van, but she did need to about Misty.
Because Misty should have known better. She knew what it was like to have the world not go her way, like Nat. She should have realized that praying to Wilderness gods wasn’t going to change anything, and agreed with Nat in the first place.
The door swung open, a gust of cold entering the cabin. Akilah, still huddled in her blanket, let out a grunt of discomfort.
“Misty,” Mari said. She joined the circle that morning too, then. “Are you coming?”
“Seriously, it’s freezing out there,” Nat tried. “You guys don’t need to go.”
“Misty,” Mari repeated, ignoring Nat. “Coming?”
Misty shivered in her sweater. She wasn’t even outside and she was cold, but when Nat opened her mouth to point this out, Misty was already moving. Mari beamed at her, nevermind she was cursing at her for getting too close to her while cooking last night, looping their arms together.
“Lottie was waiting for you,” Mari said, and Nat watched how Misty’s lips curved into a smile. The door shut with more force than usual because of the wind, like it was slamming in Nat’s face.
1997
It was good that Misty became friends with Crystal. It distracted her from Lottie, it kept her from Ben, and the two of them being musical theater nerds together might have been annoying, but it was also the only glimmer of happiness found in the cabin as winter continued, which Nat counted as a win for dwindling morale.
She’d never seen Misty with a friend before. And like she said, it was good, it was nice to see someone smiling in that goddamn cabin, but it made things weird.
Like one day at dinner, Nat avoided Travis because they got into an argument on whether they needed to tell Shauna to ration the meat more, and the next open seat was with Misty. Crystal was on one side of her, obviously, but the space on the floor to her right was bare, so Nat took her bowl of bear stew and settled there.
“Oh, hi!” Misty said, grinning.
“Hi,” Nat said shortly.
She waited, because usually a response as simple as that to Misty was enough to make her pull you into a conversation, but Misty pivoted back to look at Crystal.
“I think the soup is better today,” she told her, no, she whispered it, like it was some secret and not a totally normal thing, something she could say to Nat too. Who was also right next to her.
“Totally,” Crystal agreed in the same low tone. She didn’t even seem to notice that Nat was looking at the two of them, her eyes focused on Misty. “I still think Mari should let you help her cook.”
“It’s been over a month,” Misty hissed. “She’s so stubborn.”
Nat wasn’t sure how to respond to this—she wasn’t a fan of the idea of being drugged again, but she also was pretty sure Misty wasn’t stupid enough to do that twice. Mari could probably let up.
But it wasn’t like her opinion mattered anyway. Crystal and Misty continued to whisper, and neither of them paid any mind to Nat. She became determined to slurp her soup as quickly as possible.
“I know!” Misty said through a giggle, and Nat jolted back into reality. She’d been tuning out the conversation, but something about the laughter reeled her in. Probably because it’d been so long since she’d heard it from anyone.
“I wish Shauna would let us do another baby shower,” Crystal murmured. “So you could practice your acting more.”
“Oh, I wasn’t that good,” Misty said in a tone that made Nat smile through a sip of broth.
“You were,” Crystal insisted.
“What do you think?” Misty asked.
For a moment Nat didn’t realize she was addressing her.
“Uh, yeah.” Nat thought back to the performance, the horror on everyone else’s faces when they realized what exactly Misty decided to act out, and a genuine smile came onto her face. “It was really good.”
That was what got Misty to look pleased with herself, rather than Crystal continuing to talk about her gift for monologues, which Nat couldn’t help but think meant something.
2000
“You need a ride to the hospital?”
It was two AM, Nat had managed to fall asleep after drinking as much of a bottle of wine as she could in one sip, and was then rudely awakened by her new cellphone blaring Misty’s call. Which, stupidly, she decided to pick up.
“Yes,” Misty said, breathless on the other end of the line. “I know it’s late, but I fell on my wrist—”
“Why are you even up?” Out of everyone Nat knew, she’d expect Misty to be the least likely to be walking around past midnight, drunk enough to fall and twist her wrist. She wasn’t one to be invited out in high school, and Misty was nothing but consistent. She didn’t think she’d start going out as an adult.
“I was getting a glass of water,” Misty whined. Okay, so she wasn’t out. She was in her house. That made a lot more sense.
“Don’t you still live with your parents?”
“They’re gone for the weekend. Ow—” She let out a yelp, one Nat could tell wasn’t exaggerated at all. It made her sit up straight in bed and click on the light. “I’m worried it’s broken.”
“Alright,” Nat decided. She put the phone on speaker and pulled on the pair of pants she’d thrown on the floor earlier that night, though keeping the band tee she wore to bed. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” Misty agreed. “Twenty minutes.”
The call clicked off, and Nat laced up her boots. She hesitated, then grabbed her leather jacket. It was August, but it was beginning to get cold at night.
Half of the money she won in the lawsuit went into her car. It was bought new, something she never thought would happen, and was definitely not worth the 19 month vacation to Canada, but everything happens for a reason or whatever that nurse said when they first landed in the hospital.
She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The car purred to life, then skidded on the driveway of the apartment she was renting. Misty was lucky she was only in Newark at that moment. It was more than a 20 minute drive, but the highway was as close to vacant as it got in New Jersey at 2am on a Sunday night, and Nat wasn’t known for driving at the speed limit anyway.
The lights blurred by. Before Nationals, the furthest Nat had been outside of Wiskayok was Newark. Their school took them on a field trip to see a play there in 8th grade, something based on a book they were reading. They each had to have a buddy for if they got lost, and Nat remembered being paired with Laura Lee and convincing her to dip into Wawa to grab candy and soda, purchased with the $10 Nat stole from her dad when he was asleep. She realized that if it wasn’t too much money, he wouldn’t notice.
So even though Nat had been to plenty of places since Nationals, wasting some of the money she didn’t use on the car to book flights anywhere until she stopped getting a terrible adrenaline rush at takeoff and landing, Newark had good memories. She subletted an apartment from a student studying abroad there for 6 months, the longest she’d lived anywhere other than Wiskayok.
The drive wasn’t familiar, but she could tell when she got closer to the town. She took a turn onto the exit that proudly states Home to the Yellowjackets and sped past the high school. The terrible statue of Jackie was gone now after someone defaced it. Shauna swore it wasn’t her, and Nat chose to believe her mainly because she’d expect Shauna to take the statue home and talk to it more than knock it down into tiny pieces.
Misty’s house was on the side of town close to the school, in between where Jackie and Lottie’s big houses were and where Nat spent her childhood. Nat pulled into her driveway, and Misty was already on the doorstep, hands limply by her side, the one that was supposedly uninjured waving to Nat.
She looked older than the last time Nat saw her, which was a year and a half ago. They ran into each other at the bagel shop. Misty had been further in line and insisted Nat cut everyone else, which made several people glare and mutter “who does she think she is?” until they took another look at her and went “oh, that’s one of The Girls,” because national news may have moved on quickly, but everyone in their small town remembered who came back from the dead in the first few days of 1998.
The change in Misty wouldn’t be obvious to most people. She still wore a pastel colored sweatshirt with jeans and sneakers, bangs still curled over her forehead, and her glasses reflected in the moonlight. But Nat could tell she was different because she’d spent over a year with her, watching her—and everyone else out there—change so slowly she couldn’t tell it was happening.
Now it’d been nearly as long as they spent in the wilderness since she last saw Misty, and she could tell that her hair was shorter than it’d been in a long time, her gait was a little slower, but there was also a genuine brightness to her she hasn’t seen since Crystal died.
“Thank you,” Misty gushed as she entered the shotgun seat. “I know you live far, but Van didn’t pick up.”
“Van?” The last Nat had heard of her was when Tai bailed her out of jail a few months ago after Nat got into a scuffle with a guy at the bar. She was pretty sure their relationship was on the rocks, because Tai’s whole face tensed when Nat apologized for ruining the date night Tai ran from.
“Yes!” Misty smiled, beginning to wave her hands in excitement, and then quickly stopped with a wince. “We’ve been talking a lot recently.”
“Really.” Nat’s hands clenched the wheel. “Why her?”
“She just gets me,” Misty said. Nat almost made a snappy comment that she definitely didn’t, and if Van knew all of the shit Misty actually did out there she’d probably snap her neck, but she kept her eyes on the road and settled for a scoff Misty ignored. “I called her out of the blue because I was l…well, it doesn’t matter why.” Nat glanced at Misty, but she steamrolled past the slipup. “I tried calling you first, but it went to voicemail and I thought, why not try Van? I usually don’t because it always goes to voicemail, but she picked up, and we had this like, really long conversation. And she listened to me!”
Misty said the last part like it was a miracle. Nat cleared her throat.
“I listen to you when you call,” she said. “All I do is listen, you don’t let me get a word in half the time.”
“That’s not true,” Misty said, frowning. “I love hearing about you. You never want to say anything.”
She got her there. “So Van’s your new confidant?”
“She’s like my new best friend,” Misty proclaimed. Then, after a pause with only the sound of the car against the road, she said, “You’re going the wrong way.”
“What?” Nat squinted at the street signs and cursed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
2016
Natalie was old. She was too old to be picking up calls from Misty Quigley, whose contact she turned into “Don’t Pick Up” after that hospital visit that turned into Misty begging to sleep on her couch for five days in case something else happened while her parents weren’t home. She obeyed her self-imposed command 90% of the time.
Okay, fine. 75%.
But she did pick up that night. It was earlier than the time with the sprained wrist, at 11pm, and she was watching whatever sitcom popped up first on the TV in the hotel. She wasn’t in New Jersey this time and was well-prepared to tell Misty that, to inform her that she was on a beach in Florida because it sounded nice when she was high four months ago. That was the beautiful thing with the Internet, you could make bad choices and pay for them much, much later.
Though Florida wasn’t her worst idea. The sun was nice on her skin and it was a good break from remembering it was 20 years now. She was 20 at the end of it.
She’d gotten back from a day of laying and listening to the ocean and thinking for the first time in a while maybe she could have a good life, despite everything. And then the past came calling and reminded her no, that wasn’t what happened to people like her.
So she picked up the phone, maybe in self-punishment, or perhaps because she was already thinking about the people she knew 20 years ago and was still tipsy from the bar.
The line clicked and Misty’s voice appeared right in her ear. “Natalie?”
“It’s me.”
“Good. I wanted to talk to you.” Misty’s words were slurred. Her and Van's friendship was short-lived, which at the time made Nat a strange amount of relieved, until she realized it meant she'd be the one getting all of Misty's calls again. Always at inconvenient times.
Nat scowled at her phone. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” Misty murmured. “I’m…I’m just…” She let out a big sigh. “I went on a date tonight.”
“Great.” Nat really didn’t want to hear about this. She wished she listened to herself for once and didn’t pick up.
“He was cute,” Misty said, voice slow. “But—I don’t know. He didn’t get me.”
“A lot of people don’t get you.”
Misty sighed. “You do.”
Nat shook her head, then realized Misty couldn’t see it. “No, I don’t.” She was half lying. She often felt like she could look right at Misty and see all of her, because she was so obvious with who she was and never was any good at hiding it. It was what Nat always liked about her. But then she would do something that made all and no sense at the same time, like the chopping off of Ben’s leg, or the transponder, or going on dates with guys like it was only to leave voicemails for Nat to say they didn't work out.
“What was this one like?” Nat asked, working to make her voice disinterested. “Blond?”
“No, I don’t like blond guys,” Misty said. “Blond people can’t date blond people.”
“Jackie and Jeff did it,” Nat muttered.
“But Shauna married Jeff,” Misty said. “Which is wild.”
“Yeah,” Nat said. It was also old news. “So he wasn’t blond.”
“He was brunette,” Misty said. “Like your hair. And he had similar eyes to you.”
Nat didn’t say anything. There was some silence on the other end.
“It’s the anniversary today,” Misty said. “Of the rescue team.”
“I know.”
“We spent so long out there,” Misty said wistfully. “Sometimes I think Tai and Van had the right idea.” When Nat didn’t say anything she clarified, unnecessarily, “Hooking up.”
“Tai and Van were together before the plane went down,” Nat said. “I caught them making out in October ‘95.”
“Well still,” Misty continued. She always had tenacity, Nat could give her that. “If you could have kissed anyone out there, who would you choose?”
“I did kiss someone out there,” Nat muttered.
Misty let out a giggle, high pitched. Then there was a big glugging sound, like she had a bottle of wine right next to her, or something. “Besides Travis. A girl.”
The AC was blasting in the room, but Nat felt hot, her shirt sticking to her. “I don’t know.”
“Choose one.”
Nat hung up, chest heaving. Misty called back, and she declined the call that time.
A voicemail popped up a few minutes later. Nat pressed her fingers to it, stared at the “Don’t Pick Up” contact, and the small, 5 second message left behind.
She moved to delete it, but her finger slipped.
“I would have chosen you!” Misty said, words lilting together, barely definable.
1995
Jackie seemed fine, but Misty did a few extra tests, just to be sure. She was being responsible. Showing her importance. And Jackie obviously noticed with how she smiled wide and thanked Misty with a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m ready to go again,” Jackie said, and it was then that Misty realized Nat had gone. Just a second ago she was standing up, looking a little shaky but otherwise fine, but there was no sign of her on the field.
Coach Scott noticed at the same time. “Oh, come on.”
“I’ll go find her!” Misty volunteered, jolting up. He nodded halfheartedly, waving his hand at her as Jackie ran back onto the field. Misty sprinted back past the bleachers and into the locker room, immediately hit with the smell of sweaty gym clothes.
“Natalie?” she called, voice echoing against the metal.
No other sound emerged, and she didn’t see any sign of her. Nat recently started bleaching her hair, which meant it was always super easy to find her, much to Misty’s delight.
Just as she was about to leave, Misty spotted a black hair tie abandoned on her ground. It could have been anyone’s, but she had this feeling, like she knew it was Nat’s. She had this feeling a lot with her, like they were two of a kind. Both a little on the outside. Nat didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it, but Misty didn’t mind. They both knew it.
She ducked out of the locker room and checked under the bleachers, just in case, but only found cigarette butts and a few broken beer bottles. None of them seemed recently used.
The whistle sounded sharp on the field. Tai and Jackie were arguing about something. Misty left the bleachers, chewing her cheek and rounded the corner of the locker room building, just in case.
And that was when she saw Nat, leaning against the brick, uniform sticking to her and her hair falling choppily to her shoulders. A joint, or maybe a cigarette, Misty could never tell, was in between her fingers as she watched the parking lot.
“Na—” Misty began to say, rushing towards her, hair tie outstretched, but as she did a big, loud car pulled into the lot.
“You’re lucky the comic store fired me,” Kevyn Tan said. Nat grinned, throwing her joint onto the ground and ignoring when Kevyn complained about that being a waste.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” Nat said, climbing into the passenger seat. The car was gone in a second.
Misty watched as it sped out of the parking lot and onto the road. She squeezed the hair tie in her hand. She could give it back to Nat tomorrow.
She was going to keep it, though. That was what she decided as she stared at the marks left by Kevyn’s tires.