I got out of the old canoe. I pulled the leather straps of my book bag over my shoulders. Then, I trudged through the muddy grass toward the rusted water tower. The fat Oregon rain pellets fought against me, but I pushed on.

As I neared the tower's legs, I grabbed the rusty ladder. It shrieked as I pulled myself up and pushed off each step. I got to the top of the ladder and stepped over onto the questionable platform.

I hadn't been on that water tower in years. The last time I was there, my best friend Mitch slipped off the ledge after chugging two green apple Mad Dogs.

I strolled over to where she stood, leaning on the frail railing.

"Are you going to jump?" I asked.

She jumped at the sound of my voice. Her head turned with haste, and her long hair slapped her cheek. Up close, I could see how striking she was.

She was clutching the Guardrail.

Would she jump?

I tucked my hands into my front jeans pockets while taking a steady step closer.

"I'm saying, if you plan on jumping from here, you aren't going to die. We're in Oregon; the towers here serve only aesthetic purposes. Real ones are one to two hundred feet high," I said.

She squinted her eyes at me. It seemed as if she were thinking about what I'd said. She shuddered under the rain and glanced over the ledge as if measuring the distance.

I stepped toward the railing, gripped the far side, and glanced over the drop.

"Yee-ep, we're only about twenty or thirty feet up. Something will break at most, but you won't die."

Hopefully I don't talk her off the ledge instead of away from it.

I could see she was studying my face. Her gaze made me feel self-conscious. I know I didn't look great then. I felt like a wet noodle, standing six feet four inches tall and lanky.

I relaxed, being closer to her. Something about her felt safe, even with all the red flags around. I could picture a flag marshal hurling flags my way. They frowned and threw their hands up in frustration.

What else could I say to this girl? I have no clue who she is.

"My friend Mitch fell from here. He was drunk, didn't break any bones, but he got a nice gash on his arm from the fall."

She wasn't budging.

I took a deep breath. I ran my fingers through my wet, messy hair and pushed it back from my eyes before I spoke again.

"I'm saying, imagine jumping and only getting a few bruises and a scratch. That would be pretty embarrassing, right?"

I leaned my back against the railing. Then shoved my hands into my front pockets again. I was trying to seem relaxed, hoping to ease the tension.

"Gahh, I mean, did you even think this through?"

A slight smile crept along her lips but vanished almost immediately. It seemed to be working.

She relaxed her grip on the railing and turned to face me completely.

"Why are you here? Few people come out this way," she asked.

She stepped closer to me and away from the railing.

"How long have you been watching me? In the middle of the woods, by yourself?"

Why is she asking me questions? I should be the one questioning her.

"You're questioning me?" I scoffed. I was enjoying the nature trails. Then I saw you alone, screaming from the top of a water tower. You looked like you wanted to jump down."

She licked her bottom lip, contemplating what to say next.

"If I wanted to jump, I wouldn't still be standing here," she said. "I came out here to watch the stars."

I wasn't buying her vague explanation.

"Well, I'm no genius. But the stars are up there, not down in the weeds," I said, pointing my eyes to the sky above us.

She gave me a light giggle.

"I was waiting for the moon," she said. "Instead, the clouds and the rain came."

I'm not stupid, but I wasn't going to push the issue.

"That's Oregon," I quipped.

As if Mother Nature snapped her fingers, the rain stopped.

She looked around at the dripping trees; her wet hair made her look frail. I shook my head, sending raindrops.

"You want to get dry?" I asked, pulling at my clothes.

What the fuck, Kellen, why would you say that?

"I've never had anyone ask me to get dry before," she said, tucking a heavy strand of frizzy hair behind her ear.

My cheeks were on fire. At least she has a sense of humor.

"Let's, uh, get down," she said.

We climbed off the tower, and in our sticky clothes, we started our walk back down Lover's Lane. Everything around us seemed to be waiting for what we were going to say or do next. That's the only thing I like about wet weather: that when it's over, the world mutes itself. It's like it cleans the earth, and everything resets.

"You live around here?" I asked without looking up.

"Maybe," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Is it weird to ask someone? Maybe it is.

"Ah, you're right, I'm a stranger, don't tell me," I joked. "You don't strike me as a rain-dwelling, beaver-believing, tree-hugging Oregonian," I said.

"You don't strike me as one either," she replied, with a smile tugging at her lips.

"Good, I've done my job then," I replied.

The path was slick beneath my boots; the scent of wet earth hugged my nose. Oregon after rain is breathtaking. Most people would disagree.

She walked ahead of me. Her steps were light and carefree as she moved through the damp undergrowth. I didn't see how hard I was trying to keep up with her until she slowed down. I noticed every little thing she did.

I followed her gaze, and then I saw it.

A deer.

Shit.

Standing in the middle of the trail, looking straight at us with wide, coal-colored eyes. It was beautiful. Its coat shone with rain, and its head was down as it nibbled something by the path.

I stopped dead in my tracks, but she didn't.

I wasn't going to say it, but I was afraid.

My heart stuttered in my chest. Nothing good will come from getting too close. I knew this from my own experience.

"Hey!" I said, my voice sharper than I had intended.

"Wait, are you out of your mind?"

She didn't flinch. She looked over her shoulder at me, that same quiet smile playing at her lips like she was humoring me. "It's not a black bear or an alligator. It won't eat me or rip me to smithereens; relax," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. This fun side of her was so different from the girl I had seen yelling at everything.

Who is this girl?

I shook my head. There was sweat beading up along my forehead, and my neck was hot. I looked around, checking for any movement in the trees.

It wasn't the best idea to approach a wild animal.

"This is exactly how humans get things like the Black Plague, Lyme disease, and rabies," I said.

She remained unfazed.

"I don't plan on shoving my hand up its ass or letting it pee on me," she chirped.

My eyebrows pinched together at the remark. I knew it wasn't logical.

I was afraid of something else happening.

She stepped closer with a quiet, steady confidence.

If someone had told me this morning that I'd meet a girl on Lovers Lane, I'd have thought he or she was crazy. But then I saw her feeding a deer with her bare hands, soaking wet.

Don't get too close to it.

I wanted to yell it, but for some reason, I couldn't move.

Instead, I watched as she slid through vines, reached up, and pulled something from a bush. She turned and walked toward the deer. She moved with calm grace, her eyes fixed on the creature. The deer raised its head as she approached, its ears flicking toward her, but it didn't bolt. It didn't run.

I wanted to yell at the deer, "Go get out of here!"

My stomach dropped. "Come on—"

She cut me off with a laugh, "Relax. They fear us more; you have to show them that there is nothing to fear."

She moved right up to the deer, knelt, and extended her hand with whatever it was she'd picked from the bush. The deer sniffed at her fingers for a moment before it took the offering. Slowly, carefully, like it trusted her.

Seeing her stand in front of the deer struck me hard. It brought back a memory I had tried to forget.

I felt my mouth dry. I glanced behind the deer, into the embracing trees. I thought I would see someone or something else. They would be breathing in a calm rhythm, lurking and waiting for their moment.

I was ten years old again, in my favorite light blue Bugs Bunny sweater. Someone stained it with dirt. I wore it every day, no matter the weather. I'd throw myself into a rage when GiGi and Burnie tried to get it off me so they could clean it. It got to the point where they had to do it while I was asleep.

I was in the backyard at GiGi's house, watching ants march in and out of an anthill. GiGi always said ants work hard to prepare for the future. They never stop, not even in winter when we hardly see any critters outside.

Burnie would go on about how they're like the forest itself, always thinking ahead. That's what made me interested in the small insects. I'd sit outside and watch them for hours. When they started moving in a certain direction, I'd know it was about to rain. You watch long enough, you'll see different stories unfold. Marches for food, protecting their home, preparing for weather.

The queen ants don't nurture and care for their young. In fact, they isolate themselves from them. I always figured my mother was like the queen ant. Sometimes I'd watch until my eyes burned, waiting to see the queen ant with her young, but I never did.

A fat black ant marched up the line. It carried a round crumb of Wonder Bread I had scattered around the yard. I watched as the ant and its prize disappeared into the hole.

A deer burst out of the woods. Its antlers were huge, even bigger than my body. It landed right on the ant hill, sending ants and their home flying in all directions. I stood up in front of it, and to me its eyes were shining, as if it were smiling at me. This was the first time I'd ever been that close to an animal that wasn't a dog or a cat. It was calm, and everything around me seemed to freeze. I reached my hand out to its black nose, and before I could touch it, gunfire cracked through the air, popping my ears.

The blood from the deer, warm and sticky, splattered across my face. I knelt and squeezed my eyes shut, using my hands as earmuffs.

The deer collapsed beside me in the grass.

I opened my eyes to it kicking its feet in and out, trying to run, to get away. It was bleating and grunting, and all I could do was watch, my eyes the size of saucers, before GiGi pulled me away.

I blinked, coming back to the present; the memory still lingered in my chest like a ghost.

I looked at the girl, who was still crouching there, watching the deer with an expression that was... gentle. "Your turn," she said, looking up at me with that smile, as if she'd handed me the world's simplest request.

"W-What?" I stammered, my mind still scrambling to catch up. "I can't. What do you mean—?"

She motioned toward the deer. "Go ahead, let him get your scent."

Something in her eyes, something about the way she said it, made me take a shaky step forward.

Nobody is going to shoot the fucking deer this time, Kellen.

The deer was still there, munching on the last of what she'd given it. I moved closer, every nerve in my body telling me to stop, but my feet kept going.

As I reached out, the deer raised its head. For a moment, it stared at me with wide, knowing eyes. It felt like it could see my past and future.

My hand hovered in the air, fingers trembling.

Then, it took a step toward me. I froze; my pulse thumped. The deer sniffed my palm. Before I could pull away, its muzzle pressed against my skin. Its huge, dark eyes kept watching me. For a moment, I felt like I was part of something bigger.

And then, like that, it was gone. The deer pulled its head back, gave a soft snort, and turned. In one graceful bound, it was off into the trees, disappearing as if it had never been there at all.

My hand hung in the air, still outstretched. I touched a deer.

"See?" the girl said, her voice teasing. "They're not so different from us. You have to be patient."

"Yeah," I muttered, my voice a whisper. "Maybe."

"You know what, I have changed my mind," I said. "You're definitely an Oregonian."

At the end of the path, we both stopped and faced each other. She looked up at me; her hazel eyes, resembling honey, captivated me, and I couldn't help but stare at her.

"Well, stranger, I'm heading this way," she said, nodding toward the left. "But you should leave first," she said.

"Sure, or else I'll follow you to your home, sneak into your bedroom at night, and kill you," I said.

This made her smile widen, and her eyes sparkled.

Ah, that smile.

"How do I know you won't follow me, stalk me, and ruin my entire life, Dr. Dolittle?" I asked, raising my brows.

"There are endless possibilities," she said. Giving nothing away in her expression.

I lowered my head and smirked. Then, I turned away and headed back to The Tattered Lily. After a few steps, I turned around to see her still standing at the opening of the trail.

She waved at me.

"Hey, what's your name?" I yelled.

"If we meet again, I'll tell you!" she hollered back.

I huffed; I don't like leaving things in fate's hands.

Once she was gone and I got closer to the shop Burnie took me to, I pulled out my phone. My fingers flowed across the screen. Aunt GiGi will tell you that I should have some kind of record for the rate of speed at which I can get a text out.

I always told her, "You only think so because you text with one finger."

"Ready to go to GiGi's. Walking back to the lily now."

I hit send, felt a small buzz in my hand, and sighed. It changed from "Sent" to "Read." I shoved the device back into my pocket; the sun was gone at this point. The streetlights in downtown flickered on one by one. This signaled the kids to head home and told the raccoons and possums it was time to scavenge.

Reaching the shop, I plopped down on the curb out front, waiting for Burnie.

I wasn't there long before she pulled up. She stopped the caddy clunker and poked her head out the window. "Why you all chirk?" she squinted. "You been at The Silk Room, ain'tcha?" she smirked.

"I don't care if ya were, I'm happy to see ya without a frown," she added.

She leaned over and pushed the door open from the inside, with a grunt.

"Hop on in," she said.

"I wasn't at any strip clubs, Burnie. My walk helped me clear my mind a bit," I said.

"Mh-hum."

Burnie shifted us into drive. The car chugged around the steep turns like the little train that could. I watched as new bugs found a spot in the windshield collection.

"Noodle," Burnie started. "Promise me you won't get mad and run off?" she asked.

"Why would I do that?" I asked. "I'm putting what happened in the past behind me. I'm going to be here for GiGi; there is nothing that could change that," I said.

Burnie glanced away from the road. She rubbed her lips together, as if applying lipstick. Then she paused, thinking before she spoke.

"Good," she said. "Because your mama is at GiGi's."