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Sky of Seven Colors

By Rachelle Nelson

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Where the sky of seven colors
Meets the waters of our lands
When the new one has walked on silver
Eyes of hue and golden hands
— Verse 1127 of The Anticipatory Writings
1

On my seventeenth birthday, I hiked into a forest and disappeared.
It was Andrew’s idea. The forest, not the disappearance.
Pine trees flashed by my window as we drove along a dirt road.
Cloud cover deepened the shade of the woods, promising a summer
storm.
“Your dad’s okay with us coming up here?” I sat in the middle
seat of Andrew’s pickup, my leg a breath from touching his.
His mouth tilted up at one side. “I always explore when I come
for Christmas.”
That wasn’t an answer.
“By the way, you’re invited this year, if you want . . .” His invitation
trailed off. He glanced over at me, then back at the road. “My mom
would kill to have another girl around.”
Christmas with Andrew Knoll. That would be something. I
watched him drive and felt myself smile.
We pulled onto a long driveway, stopping in front of a two-story
house. Large window panes glistened beneath gables, reflecting the
evergreen forest that surrounded us.
I eyed the structure. “You call this a cabin? I’m pretty sure it’s
bigger than my house.”
When I had imagined the place, I always pictured logs and mud.
Andrew laughed. “It’s not as great as it looks. The hot water tank
2 R ACHE L L E NE L SON
goes out half the time. Besides, we’re not here for the cabin. We’re
here for the trees.”
The Knolls owned a hundred acres in the mountains above town.
Private, gated property. Andrew’s mom liked to say the woods were
haunted. Andrew said they were beautiful. I was just glad to be
outside. To be with him.
I slid out of the truck onto the pavement. The air smelled like rain
and pine sap, a welcome change from the dry valley below.
“Tree therapy.” Andrew closed the truck door and flashed a smile.
“You ready?”
I nodded and followed him to a path on the other side of the
driveway. Tree therapy was our thing, an excuse to spend time
together over the summer when we weren’t in school. I had learned
about it in biology class, how some doctors prescribed walks in the
woods to help their patients. So now, that’s what we called our hikes.
But today’s hike was different. Special. It was the Saturday before
my seventeenth birthday, and this was our way of celebrating.
Last year, my mom had thrown a party. Balloons and cake and
half the town on the guest list. That was before she got really sick.
This year, Andrew claimed birthday planning dibs. As if someone was
going to fight him for it. I didn’t want a party. Too many questions
about how I was doing. Questions I didn’t know how to answer, now
that she was gone.
The trees were better than anything I could have asked for.
Ferns and branches brushed our shoes with dew as we made our
way along the path.
“Who built this trail?” I asked.
“My great-grandpa cleared it. For good reason.” Andrew
quickened his step. “You’ll see soon enough.”
For a while, we walked in silence. I didn’t mind the quiet. Liked
it, even. We always acted like tree therapy was a joke, but I actually
thought there was something to it.
A breeze blew my hair over my shoulder, snagging the thin strands
on a branch. I stopped, caught. Things were always getting stuck in
my hair. Jacket zippers. Door handles. But I refused to cut it. It was
SKY OF S E VEN COLORS 3
the same long chestnut as my mom’s, though hers had been thick and
curly, not a curtain of limp snares.
Andrew laughed, reaching to help me detangle.
“Thanks.” I lowered my hands and let him work at the snag.
This close, I could feel his warmth. I was always aware of him.
Especially aware of the distance between us. My heart beat faster
and heat crept up my neck. Great. A blush would make my skin even
patchier than normal. I hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Andrew wore a linen shirt, snug across his broad shoulders,
complementing his olive skin and amber eyes. Those were the kind
of eyes a girl could get lost in, if she looked too long. Which is why
I never did.
At first, when we started hanging out in my freshman year, I hadn’t
noticed him in that way. Since then, things had changed between us.
Part of it was him—he had grown into himself. Part of it was me.
Andrew was the one who sat beside me at the funeral. And after
the funeral. He was there when I finally let myself cry, his hand in
mine. Sometimes, I thought there was more than friendship between
us. But he never said anything, so neither did I. Things were good the
way they were. I didn’t want to mess that up.
Except things weren’t going to stay the way they were, and I
knew it.
In a few weeks, I would start my senior year of high school.
Andrew would go to college.
I shook my head, pulling myself free from the branch, creating
space between us. I lost some hair in the process.
Andrew removed my loose strands from the pine needles, holding
them out to me. “You’re always leaving your mark.”
I smiled. “Call me Gretel. It’s my trail of breadcrumbs.”
“You won’t need it. We’re almost there.” He put a finger to his
lips. “Listen.”
It was barely audible. Beneath the bird calls and the forest noises,
a roar droned, the sound of river rapids.
“It’s just a little further.” Andrew quickened his steps as he led
the way.
4 R ACHE L L E NE L SON
After two more bends in the trail, we came to the top of a ridge,
overlooking a ravine.
I took in a breath at the sight. Across the ravine, a waterfall poured
over the edge of a high cliff, crashing into a spray of mist below us.
Bright green moss grew on the rocks behind the falls. With the dark
sky and the vivid color, it looked like another world.
It was beautiful. A place untouched by sadness.
To my surprise, my throat tightened with emotion. This was better
than tree therapy.
“What do you think?” Andrew asked over the sound of the falls.
I swallowed back the threat of tears, another thing that made my
skin pink. “It looks like it should be in a national park. How does no
one know this is here?”
Andrew stepped closer to me. “Knolls know. They just don’t care.
My grandpa’s brother fell here as a kid. It was . . . bad. He died. After
that, they closed the place to the public. It was way before my dad was
even born, but still no one comes out here. My parents like jigsaw
puzzles and they hate getting their shoes dirty. You’re the only one
I’ve ever shown. Hopefully it’s not a lame surprise.”
He was watching me.
I grinned and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of green
things. “It’s amazing.”
“It’s even better up close.” Andrew motioned for me to follow him
further down the trail.
He was headed into the ravine. My shoulders tensed. Right now,
the path was wide enough to stay away from the edge. But what if it
became narrow or steep? I had never been good with heights. Even
the Ferris wheel made me want to puke, and it had safety rails.
I didn’t move to follow Andrew.
“Don’t worry.” He came back up the trail. “The path is only tricky
at one spot. This is the easiest way down.”
He took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, then let go. I
closed my empty hand, wishing he had held on longer.
“It’s easy for you.” I edged along the path close behind him.
SKY OF S E VEN COLORS 5
“You’re not scared of anything.” Not heights, or people. Or real
birthday parties.
“That’s not true.” Andrew didn’t elaborate.
He was probably trying to make me feel better. My list of phobias
was too long: spiders, strangers, driving. It hadn’t always been that way.
Last year, when everything went wrong, it was like my brain realized
bad things can happen. I started worrying about the bad, focusing on
it. But good could happen too. Like this hike. Like Andrew.
“Hey,” I said. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It’s better with you.” Andrew looked back at me. “Now, since this
is technically your birthday party, I think it’s time for games.”
“And cake?”
“If you insist.” He pulled a crumpled paper bag out of his backpack
and tossed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
The bag smelled sweet. Inside were two enormous oatmeal
cookies. My favorite.
“I was joking about the cake. But this is better.” I took a bite of a
cookie. Sugar and butter melted in my mouth.
Andrew took a cookie for himself. He packed the empty bag away.
“I wasn’t joking about the games. You ready for truth or dare?”
I laughed. “You sure you can handle it?”
We had played before. Last time, it ended with Andrew having to
eat a concoction of ranch dressing, sandwich cookies, and pickles.
“Well,” he said, “since you’re the birthday girl, you get to go first.”
“Fair enough.”
We kept walking, pausing to climb over a log that had fallen across
the trail.
“Truth,” I said.
“Perfect.” Andrew brushed dirt off his jeans. “Do you have any
regrets?” He didn’t look at me when he asked the question.
Regrets. I tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t ruin the hike.
There were things I wished had never happened. Cancer. Death.
Things I couldn’t control.
6 R ACHE L L E NE L SON
“I regret not eating both cookies,” I said.
“Come on. You picked truth. You owe me a real answer.”
“You’re supposed to ask me something easy. Like, what’s the
worst birthday present you ever got.”
“Your mom gave you a pair of red shoes with glitter last year,”
Andrew said. “You hated them. But you pretended like you didn’t.”
He was right.
“Okay,” I said. “Real answer. When I was in fourth grade, I took
this field trip to the zoo. I waited for everyone else to ride the carousel
before me. I was nervous, I guess. But I wanted to ride the horse. By
the time I got in line, it was time to leave. I know it’s dumb . . . but
it’s a regret.”
“Acceptable answer.” Andrew guided me to the inside of the path,
away from a raised tree root. His hand was warm on my back.
“I used to ride that carousel all the time when I was a kid,” he
said. “I’m sorry you never got to.”
“You were probably first in line,” I said.
“I was.”
“You probably cut in line.”
“I did.” Andrew grinned.
That smile made something flutter inside of me. I looked down,
concentrating on my steps. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
I rolled my eyes. Andrew always picked dare.
“Before you decide the intensity of the challenge,” he said, “keep
in mind that I did bring my first aid kit. So we’re good to go.”
I didn’t have a dare for him. I wanted to keep talking. “What do
you regret? I dare you to tell me the truth.”
I expected Andrew to fight me on this. He liked his dares. But
he was silent for a moment. He turned to me and held my gaze, his
eyes serious.
“The truth.” He paused. “Actually . . . I did want to talk to you
about something.”
I could hear in his voice that the game was over. My stomach
tightened. “About what?”
SKY OF S E VEN COLORS 7
He put his hands into his pockets. “Meg, I’m going to be leaving
soon—”
I interrupted, panic washing over me. “But you’re not leaving
today.”
This was the one subject I didn’t want to talk about. No matter
what he was about to say, he was leaving eventually, and nothing
could change that. We would be apart for a whole year, except for
Christmas. He would probably meet some college girl from the city
with silky blond hair and a rock-climbing gym pass. Today, I would
avoid heights, parties, and this conversation.
I took off down the path, past Andrew, hugging the safe side.
“Meg—” The sound of his footsteps followed behind me.
I laughed, passing it off as a chase. When I came to a patch of
pinecones on the ground, I had to slow down or risk stumbling.
Andrew passed me and stopped, blocking the trail. We stood facing
each other.
“I need to tell you something,” he said. “Will you listen for a
second?”
I nodded, my smile fading. Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to
let it go. He took a step closer. My head tilted up to see him.
“I know I’m leaving . . .” he went on. “And I don’t know where
that leaves us.”
Us? I tried to stop him with my eyes, to beg him not to tell me that
things were going to change between us. End between us. Whatever
we were.
Andrew searched my face like he was looking for something.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked.
He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture he only made when he
was frustrated. I held my breath.
“What I’m trying to say is—It’s just . . .” He dropped his hand to his
side. “It’s just that, after everything this year, I didn’t want to move too
fast. And then we never moved at all. And everything’s been the same
for years, but it’s not the same for me anymore. I can’t leave without
saying something.”
My heart leapt to my throat.
8 R ACHE L L E NE L SON
He took a deep breath and spoke in a steady voice. “I’m in love
with you, Meg.”
I froze, my eyes locked with his.
He kept going. “I’ve been trying to show you for the past year,
maybe longer. I’m sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, but it’s true
and I need to say it out loud.”
My breath grew shallow. Raindrops flecked my cheeks.
Neither of us had ever said I love you—not in that way—but I had
felt it a hundred times and tried to hide it. I had spent all that time
keeping silent. I had trained myself to push aside my feelings. Now,
I stood there, trying to wrap my brain around what he had just said.
I waited too long to reply. I felt it in the awful moment when he
looked away.
Andrew scuffed a rock with the toe of his shoe, his hair curling
in the rain. “So . . . I guess I wanted you to know that. If you didn’t
already.” He turned and kept walking, deeper into the gully, speaking
over his shoulder. “We’re about halfway to the bottom of the falls.”
In a minute, when the rush of feelings slowed, when I caught
my breath, I would figure out what to say. The right way to say it. I
walked behind him, chewing the inside of my lip.
Within a few paces, the ground transitioned from packed earth to
slick gravel. A thin stream of water trickled under our feet. I turned
up my collar, steadying myself.
Andrew tried to smooth over my silence. “Maybe you’ll want to
do a sketch?”
I always had my sketchbook. Leather bound and weather worn, it
sat in the bottom of my backpack, which was slung over my shoulder.
I made an entry in those pages on every hike we took. Andrew made
a big deal out of each drawing. It was another reason I loved him,
another reason to tell him so.
I opened my mouth, ready to speak, hoping that the right words
would come out.
And that was when Andrew fell.

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