Back The Lightness
Chapters (25)
  1. THE LIGHTNESS
  2. Praise for The Lightness:
  3. Dedication
  4. i
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  23. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  24. About the Author
  25. About the Publisher

Sure enough, when I approached Luke’s cabin, the lights were on. His leather sandals were outside on the mat; I could see the smooth black imprints of his feet in their soles.

Instead of knocking, I walked around to the side of the house and put my face to the window. I wanted to see what he did when he was alone.

But he was not alone. In fact, I couldn’t see him at all. In the slice of light between the two inexpertly pulled drapes, I could see only Serena, lying face down on Luke’s bed. The skin of her bare back was clear, the rest of her hidden by blanket. She was still, as if dead. I shifted a little to see more. And then I could see more: I could see that her hair looked strange, and maybe it was the light, but no—the hair tucked against the pillow wasn’t black at all, or long, but a smear of dark, earthy purple. Those shoulders, hard and strong, like a boy’s.

Somewhere to my left, I heard Luke wrench the front door open, heard him ask a question into the night air. I froze, but after a few seconds of silence he retreated, leaving a thin scent of lavender behind. My face was still at the window when he entered the room, leaned over, and kissed her on the head. It wasn’t actually until this movement, which was so tender—the way his lips descended into her hair, the way her hand curled around his leg in response to his touch—that I really understood what I was seeing.

But I was to understand it better, because then he slid under the blanket and put his arms around her, and they began to move. She sat up, straddling him, and he tried to sit up too, and she pushed him down again. It was some time after this, his arms wrapped around her small body, her chin on his shoulder, that, for the first time, for the only time, I saw her smile. I won’t say she looked beautiful, because she didn’t, and aside from the blush of youth, wasn’t. But she looked happy. She looked perfect. It was her smile that made me unstick my fingers from the windowsill and slink back to the dormitory. It was a long time before I heard her climb up into her top bunk and push her face into her pillow.