The Scattering

There’s a loud sound behind me then. Wheels screeching to a stop, doors opening. Footsteps. I am afraid to peel my eyes from the water. Afraid I will miss some glimpse of Jasper.

“Stop!” a man shouts behind me. Not quite angry. But very, very firm. “Come away from the railing.”

The police? Jasper’s mom must have called them. Thank God.

But I do not turn. I do not take my eyes off that water. I will spot Jasper if he surfaces—no matter what anyone says. “He’s down there!” I shout back instead.

“Come away from the edge!” Even louder now. But a woman this time. “Miss, get off the railing now!”

“But my friend Jasper—”

“We aren’t listening until you come away from there!”

I glance over my shoulder and see the two police officers coming slowly closer from either side of a stopped police car.

“Someone has to go after him. Do you have a boat or scuba people or something?”

“We can talk about that after you step over here, miss.” When I look quickly again, I see the female officer has curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. And she’s waving me toward her. “Take a step or two away from the edge, hon. Toward me.”

The way she says “hon” has a warm ring to it, but she’s nervous. I can feel it. I see her look down at my shoeless, possibly bloody feet. I get it: I look unhinged. But she is trying to be patient, to give me the benefit of the doubt. Her partner, on the other hand—young and jumpy and overmuscular—seems like he is going to pounce. They are focused only on me, too. They don’t understand what’s going on. They’ve been misinformed.

“You’re wasting time! It’s not me, it’s my friend! He jumped!” I shout back at them as I turn again to the water. “He is going to die down there if you don’t hurry!”

“We want to help you,” the female officer says. She is calmer now, like she’s hit her stride. “But we can’t until you step away from the railing.”

Help you. They are still not listening. I am just going to have to make them.

“If you want me away from the railing, then send somebody down there!” I scream, jabbing a finger toward the water.

I whip around and lean way back on purpose over the railing. The female officer stops, but her partner is still inching toward me, off to the side. His right hand is at his hip, reaching for something. I don’t think they would actually shoot me, but there are other options. She raises a hand again, telling him to hold. He does, but he’s pissed about it.

“We’ll see about your friend,” she says, forcing her voice higher. “As soon as—”

When I press even farther back over the railing, she stops talking.

“Now! Go look for him now!”

God, why didn’t I go over to Jasper’s house last night? Because I had believed him, that’s why. Maybe he’d even been telling the truth last night when he said he’d be okay.

“Wylie, hon?” The female officer knows my name? Jasper’s mom might have told them. So why does her using it seem so off? “Are you listening to me?”

No, I am not. What I am listening to is this terrible feeling I am having. I am listening to the way she feels, which is completely and totally focused on me and not listening to a word I am saying, the worst combination imaginable.

“They didn’t send you for me. They sent you for my friend Jasper.” I push up and actually sit on the railing. I feel queasy when I glance down toward the water and see nothing—no boat, no search party, no flashing lights on shore. No Jasper. And being suspended so far over the water is totally terrifying. “Get people to look for him. Now!”

She holds up a hand. “Okay, okay.” Now she is pissed. Worried, too, but in a mostly pissed-off way. She hates that this situation has gotten away from her. Her nostrils flare as she dials her phone. A second later she is asking for a marine unit. “Possible male teenage victim in water. Fall from Bernham Bridge.” She pauses, gives some more details. It is like she is actually talking to someone, and not pretending. “They’re on their way,” she says when she’s done. “Now, Wylie, we had a deal. Come down.”

I still have the most awful feeling. Different now, though. Like I am missing an essential detail. The most important one.

“What’s going on here?” I ask.

“You’ve got yourself leaning over the side of a bridge, which is extremely dangerous. And you’re scaring the hell out of us.”

The girl with the knife has become the girl sitting on top of a bridge railing. Threatening to jump. A danger to myself, no doubt. Shit. How did that happen? How did I become exactly who I didn’t want to be?

“Everyone wants to help you,” she goes on. “We want you to be okay.”

“But it’s not me,” I whisper. I do want to come down, though. It’s scary hanging over that railing. And she has done what I wanted—sent people looking for Jasper. “Okay, okay.”

I grip the metal tighter as I push myself back to the ground. As soon as my feet touch down, something knocks me hard from the side, throwing me off balance and also away from the water. I’m yanked up by my arms right before I hit the concrete.

“Let go!”

“Calm down.” A man’s voice. A new one, behind me. “Or we’ll have to restrain you.”

Here it is, at long last. People coming to take me away. But I hadn’t pictured it like this. Being so obviously unjust. No. I won’t let it happen. I won’t go quietly. I won’t behave, not the way they want me to. They are wrong about me.

And so I nod, like I have heard them. Like I am listening. “Okay,” I say quietly. “But you’re hurting my arms. Please, let me go.”

They loosen their grip, a little and then a little more. It’s my chance. Maybe the last one. I lunge forward. Run. Run. Run

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