Free Learning Not to Drown by Anna Shinoda

one look, andPeter would mutter “Sorry” and leave the room. But I hadn’t seen Luke for months. Right before Christmas he’d just disappeared. I’d gotten a letter from him on Valentine’s Day asking me to be his pen pal. Even though he’d written that he loved and missed me, he still hadn’t come home. Not even for Easter or the Fourth of July.
    And he wasn’t there to protect me from Peter when I needed him the most.

Chapter 11:
Stagnant
NOW
    It’s sad to see the leftovers of a party. Only ashes remain in the bonfire pit. Marlboro butts and empty Coors cans lie with pine needles and pinecones. How did the forest survive our night?
    â€œOkay, kiddos.” Dad hands us each two bags and a pair of rubber gloves. “Trash in one bag, recyclables in the other. Go to work.”
    I snatch the bags from him, still pissed off, until I notice in amazement that my father is putting on gloves and bending to pick up a beer can. I thought this was my punishment.
    â€œYou’re going to help?” I ask.
    Dad nods.
    â€œThanks,” I mutter. I’d expected him to sit in the truck and take a nap, or go hunting for more dead animals.
    Drea works in circles around the fire pit while Dad stands in it, picking out charred cans. I follow a trail of trash to the outskirts of the clearing where two hiking paths meet.
    â€œMan, this sucks,” I say aloud, realizing the chore is bigger than I even imagined.
    Squirrels chatter loudly as I step off the trail, pursuing the shiny aluminum deeper into the forest. Light trickles down through the trees, but where it doesn’t, it’s dark, making it feel later than my watch tells me it is. I reach the end of the can trail. The bonfire pit is pretty far away—I’ve wandered farther than I thought. Hairs on my arms stand on end. I hurry back to the path, noticing each chirp, snap, and rustle. Then I freeze. Someone is walking toward me from the other hiking trail. Tall. Male. Making big strides.
    He’s probably just a hiker. I’ll walk toward the clearing, even if it means turning my back on him.
    â€œHi,” he calls out before I have a chance to move.
    â€œH—,” I say nervously. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.”
    â€œNice day for a walk. . . . Hey, I know you.” He steps forward. “You’re Luke Tovin’s little sister, right?” He smiles. “I’m an old buddy of his.” Steps closer. How could he be one of Luke’s friends? His face is lined in wrinkles and he’s missing a tooth on the left side. His nose is raw, like mine looks after a day of snowboarding. He looks way too old to be a friend of Luke’s.
    I spy Skeleton out of the corner of my eye, peeking from behind a nearby tree trunk.
    â€œOh, yep. That’s me,” I say, silently willing the man to go away, to not get any closer. “I’d shake your hand, but . . .” I see him take in the trash bag in one hand, the glove on the other.
    â€œYou picking up the woods for a charity project or somethin’?”
    â€œSomething like that,” I mutter. Step out to pass him. A wide step. Skeleton peers out from behind the tree again, bones trembling.
    â€œNeed any help?” The man bends down to pick up a can I missed. Gives it a little shake next to his ear. “Got to see if anything’s left. Don’t want good beer to go to waste.”
    Gross. He laughs. Looking up the trail, I see Dad bending and standing, picking, picking, picking, his back toward me.
    â€œHow is Luke, anyway?” the man says.
    â€œGood. I’ll be seeing him soon. I can tell him I ran into you.” I step back. Skeleton grabs a branch, pulls himself up to the next, climbing fast. He stops at a high branch and looks down, a death grip on the tree trunk. Motions for me to start climbing.
    â€œWe used to party up here too, you know.” He steps forward