Saturday was the day I discovered three things.
First, Jaz is also a nerd. She just hides it better than Kason does.
Second, an escarpment is—I’m quoting Jaz here—the sharp slope that separates a plateau from the rest of the land. Kind of like a point of no return, which seemed to be a recurring theme for me on the trip.
And third, lightning has a smell.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before I uncovered any of these facts, I was sitting at the little dinette table working on a bowl of cereal—it was fruit-flavored, which I hate, but that was the only kind we had—and wondering why, exactly, Blake had planned for us to spend a whole day in the Texas panhandle. The scenery was just as sullenly stark as it had been the day before. A brassy dome of summer sky over heat-bleached grass all the way to the hazy horizon, with occasionally a stunted tree. We’d been driving for about ten minutes, headed to some state park nearby, and the landscape hadn’t changed a fraction.
“G’morning.” Kason settled himself onto the seat across from me. Today he was wearing a new shirt—a yellow tee with WE ARE HAPPY CAMPERS printed across it. Three guesses where that had come from.
I studied my cereal as if it required all my concentration. “Morning.” Somehow talking to him now, after last night, felt—awkward. As if I’d seen him for the first time, right alongside the stars.
Which was crazy.
“Jenna!” To my relief, Jaz dropped onto the bench seat beside me, her enthusiasm still as carbonated as it had been on the day we’d left. “Are you excited for today?”
The cereal was turning my milk pink. Ugh. I shrugged, unwilling to admit I didn’t remember where we were going. “I guess so.”
Kason dropped his head and opened his book.
“It’s gonna be fantastic.” Jaz was eating some frosted pastry thing out of a plastic package. The kind of food Gran always said was unhealthy, but I had to admit it looked more appealing than my soggy cereal, which tasted far more like red dye than genuine fruit. “Palo Duro Canyon. I’ve wanted to see it my whole life!”
Well, at least our destination had a name now. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Because of the geology, you know.” She popped the rest of her pastry into her mouth. When she could talk again, she picked up as if there’d been no break at all. “It’s the second-largest canyon in the whole United States, and the rock formations are incredible.”
“No way.” I tried to imagine how the second-largest canyon in the country could be hiding in a land so flat I could probably see all the way back into Oklahoma.
“Yes! Plateaus and mesas and—oh, everything. I can’t wait to go rock hounding.”
Rock hounding? Like, collecting rocks? I stared at her. “What—uh—” What could I even ask? “What kinds of rocks are you looking for?”
“Anything I don’t already have in my collection at home, but mainly I’m hoping for a lot of sedimentary specimens.”
Sedimentary specimens. Yep. That’s the moment when I knew her nerd side was showing up for the party.
“You’ll help me, right? Help me find some cool rocks?” She drummed her fingernails hopefully on the table. Today they were painted burnt orange.
Even inside the air-conditioned coach, I could feel the heat breathing around the windows. I had no desire to shuffle through the panhandle dirt looking for rocks, but Jaz had been patiently knocking on my locked doors since the moment the trip had started.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Awesome!” She pumped a fist in the air. “This is gonna be the most exciting day!”
If that sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because she said some equivalent of that phrase every day. Every. Single. Day. And for her, they all were. Which sort of made me hate her and sort of made me love her. You know?
After about half an hour of driving, the scenery (finally) began to change. Instead of a tired-looking table of ash-yellow dust, the land turned darker, richer, wrinkling itself into folded rock and sloping cliffs. And then there was a stone sign. PALO DURO STATE PARK.
“Here it is!” Jaz grabbed my arm. “See, Jenna? The canyon!”
The road curved sharply down, suddenly, as if the land had collapsed in on itself. And driving into the canyon was like entering a southwestern sunset. It was all fierce, flaming hues—rocks burning orange in the noonday sun, stones stacked into lumpy formations, cut into sharp ledges, or sheared into bizarre shapes. Scrubby desert trees clung tenaciously to the sand.
And Jaz was nothing short of Christmas-morning thrilled. She started laying down the geology trivia faster than you could say nerd alert. By the time we’d pulled into the little picnic area, where our trailhead was supposed to be, I’d learned that the red color was caused by oxidation, that the canyon contained four different geologic layers, that fossils of phytosaurs (I don’t know what that is either) had been found in some of the stones, and that differing rates of erosion had created—something. I got distracted looking at the scenery and sort of missed that last one.
What I hadn’t learned by the time we all clambered out of the RV, however, was where the trail actually started. And judging from the frown on Blake’s face, he was wondering the same thing. “What is this hike called, again?”
“Palo Duro Caves.” Jaz tapped the pocket of her cargo shorts, where her phone was. “I read all about it on the way here. It’s not very hard and goes to a real cave system.”
A cave system. Somehow, in a land that already felt as if it were watching me, that didn’t sound particularly thrilling.
“Okay, but where is the trailhead?” Blake’s voice was sharpening again.
“Well, it’s not officially marked.”
“Not officially—”
“It’s, like, something only the locals know about. But it’s supposed to be here.” Jaz slung her backpack over her shoulders and glanced around. “Somewhere.”
Blake slanted a suspicious glance at Jaz. “Is this a real trail?”
“Oh, totally.” She was tying some empty pouch onto her belt. “It’s a very popular hike.”
I looked around. Silence lying thick and watchful over an orange-streaked desert where every mesquite bush looked alike. No other vehicles in this parking area.
I pulled a stick of gum from my pocket. This situation warranted it.
“There! That must be it.” Jaz pointed toward a narrow rut—more like a crack—snaking into the hard-packed dirt. “Let’s go.” Without waiting, she marched off, boots crunching on the sandy dirt.
“Seriously?” Adam kept his voice low and glanced pleadingly at the rest of us. “We’re really doing this?”
“Come on, guys!” Jaz glanced over her shoulder and swept her arm in a half-circle. “Caves, remember?”
The caves were what I would rather not remember, but I couldn’t let Jaz run off into the desert alone. I pulled my ball cap down and fell into step after her. “Coming!”
The trail was at least much easier to follow than I’d anticipated—a deep indentation into the hard-packed desert dirt. Orange sand powdered my hiking boots. All around me rose the folded shapes of the weird rock formations, red-rock faces watching me all the way to the horizon. Like a scene from a western. Or the surface of Mars.
Jaz was moving fast, the others straggling behind us, and then she stopped and nudged a chunk of rock with her toe. “Is that—” She scooped it up, turning it over in her hands, apparently ignoring the powdery sand dusting her fingers. “Yeah! Limestone.”
I stared at her blankly. “Limestone?”
“Uh-huh. Sedimentary rock. Compression of sediments over time hardens them into rock. Limestone is carbonate sediments, once they lose their calcium.”
“Really?” I had no other answer.
“Yup. It’s the most common rock in Texas, but still a good find.” She dropped it into the dangling bag at her side and wiped her hand on her shorts, leaving an orange smear. “Ready to find some more?”
“Sure.” Although I had no idea how. I couldn’t read the rocks the way Jaz could. I glanced around, searching for anything unusual, and suddenly noticed a piece of stone that seemed to sparkle. “What about this shiny one?”
“Let’s see.” Jaz nodded at me. “Pick it up.”
The rock was rough and gritty, but also warm, as though it had soaked up all the desert sun and was storing it in the dozens of flecks that glittered like glass.
“Quartz! And feldspar.” Jaz grinned at me. “Good find!”
Hearing her praise my find was strangely satisfying. I tried not to smile so big. “Another sedimentary rock?”
“No, quartz is actually igneous. Volcanic rock. It erodes off the Rockies to the west and ends up here in the desert.”
“This came all the way from the Rockies?”
“Most likely, yes.”
“Wow.” Weird. The rock had come from where we were going. I turned it over, once again watching the sun flash against it. “So…quartz.” Didn’t I remember that from science class? “Like—quartz crystals?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “And like my tattoo, see?”
She pushed her braids back and turned her head, and for the first time I really noticed the design of the tattoo on her temple—a purple line drawing of a cluster of crystals.
“Oh—yeah. I see.”
“Kason and I both got tattoos last summer. Twin tattoos, you know?” She let her braids fall back into place. “His is a constellation.”
I’d never noticed Kason’s tattoo. “Which constellation?”
“Gemini.”
Of course.
“I spent hours drawing out both the designs.”
A cloud dimmed the sun. For just a moment, I could look around without squinting. “You drew out the designs for your own tattoos?”
“Yeah.” She laughed and started walking again. “It was fun. Of course, I already knew what mine was going to be. I love crystals. Always have.”
“How come?”
“Because they’re formed in fire. And they hold the light.”
There was a poetry to the words that gave me the shivery feeling again. Like Kason’s stars and the missing mounds and the great unknowing that kept creeping closer to me. The valley suddenly glowed again with the surprise of the afternoon sun. The rocks flamed orange, clouds boiling like smoke over the horizon.
And the rock I’d found sparkled again. I rubbed my thumb over the microscopic mirrors of the quartz. “You want this?”
“Nope.” She smiled at me. “That one’s yours.”
All the light, all in my hand. “Thanks.” I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know how, so I just slipped the rock into my pocket and glanced at the pouch dangling from her belt. “Is Blake going to be okay with you having a bag of rocks in the RV?”
She grinned as we scrambled up a slope between prickly-pear cacti. “He’ll have to be. That’s my second bag.”
“Your second bag?”
“We were all allowed two bags, right? Well, I managed to cram all my other stuff in my backpack to keep that empty bag for rocks.”
So both of the JK twins had mixed priorities when it came to packing. Somehow I liked that.
A shadow fell again over the valley—heavier this time. I glanced up. Those boiling clouds were darker and closer, curling over the sun. “Jaz, did you check the weather before we started?”
She glanced at the sky and frowned. “No, but there was no rain in the forecast.” She slid her phone out of her pocket and sighed. “No service to check the radar. Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to it anyway.”
Half a mile farther down the trail, Jaz had added a dozen more rocks to her bag—I kept expecting the flimsy mesh bottom to rip right out of it—and I’d decided that she knew every fact about every rock between here and California.
“—and so because the rate of erosion is faster on the sides than the tops, those spires are created.” She gestured at the cliffs around us.
“Wow.” I’d understood about every other word. “You really love geology, don’t you?”
“I do.” She laughed. “You should see my rock collection at home. Dad jokes that one day I’ll have enough rocks to build my own house.”
“Kason said your dad called you Rockhound.”
“Yep, ever since I was in first grade.” She grinned. “But he gives cringe nicknames to everybody.”
Jaz’s passion for rocks reminded me of Kason’s obsession with stars. Each of the twins had their own private world of wonder. “Why do you love geology so much?”
She stopped. Tilted her head as if really considering the question. “Well—” She smiled suddenly. The light that was left glinted off her tongue stud. “A lot of reasons. I love exploring. I love discovering. I love identifying and I love collecting and I love seeing how all the world is shaped. But—I think it’s mainly because rocks are underneath everything, you know?”
“Underneath?”
“Yeah. This—” her gesture included the spiky cacti and the wind-dusted dirt and the clouds lowering above our heads—“is all surface. But the rocks—the rocks are underneath it all.”
I turned that thought over for a moment. Under our feet, right now, what was happening? Sediments squeezing themselves into stone? Tectonic plates grinding against each other? Crystals sprouting from the deep primeval fires that kept the heart of the earth alive?
“I like to see underneath.” Jaz’s voice was quieter now. “I like to know what’s deep. What’s beneath all the other things.” She shrugged. “The surface can look one way. But underneath—that’s where things are happening. Moving. Changing. Becoming. And that’s the process that keeps everything alive.”
Hadn’t I felt that? The tectonic tension in my own heart as we’d traveled west?
You need belonging, she’d said. She’d seen beneath my own surface layers.
And I’d—what? Had I ever tried to see the way she did? Ever tried to notice what lay beneath the surface for any of the other kids—even for her?
“And there’s another reason.”
The wind stirred the sand, mesquite bushes bowing before something I couldn’t see. I shifted. “What’s that?”
“My dad gives nicknames, but my mom does too. Except hers are—more meaningful.” Jaz shrugged. “Anyway, she always called me and Kason Sand and Stars.”
“Sand and Stars?”
“Right. Because of rocks and space. Because those are the two things only God can count.”
“Do you think He does?”
“Oh, yes.” There was bedrock conviction in her nod. “He knows the name of every star. Every grain of sand. And every one of us.”
No story is lost, Kason had said. Wasn’t that the same idea?
“Anyway—” She relaxed suddenly, flashed me her sparkling smile. Her philosophical moment was evidently over. “Let’s try to find some sandstone next. It’s rough, kind of bumpy—”
A sudden stream of cool wind caught the rest of her sentence. Dust swirled around us. I felt my cap lifting off and grabbed for it just in time. And then I saw it. A sheet of rain sweeping toward us, looming like destiny across the scruffy grass.
“Jaz!”
“Come on!” Jaz grabbed my hand and started running, towing me after her toward a stack of rocks a hundred yards in front of us. Over my shoulder, I could see the rest of the kids starting to run too.
A flicker of light shimmered in the air around us. And then thunder, echoing like a rolling stone off the cliff walls. I flinched, but Jaz didn’t break her speed.
“Where are we heading?”
“Only one place to go!” Jaz was still cradling her precious rock bag with her free hand. The first raindrops spattered in our faces just as the trail tunneled down into the rocks, straight toward a growing patch of shadow. “The caves.”
#
Another blast of wind—even more determined this time—roared across the canyon, bending the scrubby bushes and swirling the sand around us until the grit stung my eyes. The air was heavy with the cool, clean scent of rain for just a moment before the downpour descended. My clothes soaked instantly, and even my ball cap didn’t do much to keep the rain out of my face.
A flash of lightning brightened the edges of my vision again. Less than two heartbeats later, the thunder boomed. Hadn’t I read something one time about counting the seconds between thunderclaps to know how close lightning was?
“Right here!” Jaz stumbled down the slope into rock formations that loomed high above our heads, all but dragging me through the tunnel-like chasm between them. “The caves are back in here.”
“Are you sure?” I had to yell to be heard over the rain.
“What?”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure!”
Pretty sure is not what you want from someone who is acting as your guide to the only available shelter in an electrical storm. With no other choice, I squeezed through the rocks behind her. The space between them narrowed, pinching in on itself until a dark patch appeared ahead. Jaz scrambled into the shadows without slowing her pace, and I clambered in after her just as thunder boomed again.
“Come on!” Jaz ducked, pushing farther back into the cave. “And—here.”
I glanced around, trying to slow my breathing, trying to see something besides shadows. A small break in the rocks to the upper left of us let in just enough daylight for me to faintly see that we were huddled in a closet-sized area within the rocks. The ground under us was gritty with sand and sloped steeply up.
Scuffling sounds and shifting shadows, and the rest of our group was squeezing into the space with us. Kason’s was the first face I noticed. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me, so it made no sense that as soon as I saw him, I felt something tight inside my chest release.
“Is this safe?” Even in the lukewarm light, I could see that Blake’s hair hung stringy from the rain. He pushed it back with an irritated sweep of his hand. “I mean, are we protected here?”
“From—” Jaz tilted her head at him.
“The storm.” He all but growled the words.
“It smells bad in here.” Brooklyn, of course. And the only thing that made me feel better was the fact that she was staring at the darkness with even more fear than I felt.
“It smells like minerals.” Jaz’s voice was still patient. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Well, now it smelled like minerals and Brooklyn’s fake flowery perfume, but I kept that to myself.
Adam was nervously shifting, like a pacing zoo animal. “They told us in Boy Scouts to never get under rock outcroppings in lightning storms because the metal in the rocks attracts lightning.”
A rock ledge ran like a shelf along the crumbling wall of the shelter. Jaz perched on top of the ledge, folding herself into a cross-legged position. “You can’t always listen to your scout leader, Adam.”
“But is that true?”
A fresh gust of rain slanted through the hole in the rocks, accompanied by a boom of thunder. Jaz swept a hand toward the opening and raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “Do you see any other good options?” She glanced at me and patted the space next to her. “Sit down, Jenna. We’re not going anywhere for a little while.”
I gingerly settled beside her. The rocks were cold and jabbed into my legs uncomfortably. Kason quietly sat on my other side, close enough that I could catch the fresh, cool rain-scent on his clothes.
Another crack from outside. More thunder. Closer this time.
“I can’t believe this happened.” Leaning stiffly against a rock outcropping on the other side, Brooklyn glared accusingly at Jaz. “Didn’t you check the weather before we started?”
Jaz shrugged. “Texas weather changes fast.”
“You can say that again.” Adam still looked pale. “Hey, how far back does this cave go?”
That was not a question I wanted to consider. I was starting to shiver from my soaked clothes.
Brooklyn was rubbing her iPhone on the front of her shirt—as if that helped, given that her clothing was even wetter than mine. “My phone is soaked and it won’t come on. I don’t know if the battery is dead or—”
A sudden snap—a sharp, cracking sound like a whip flicking—and a blinding flash through the skylight. I yelped involuntarily just as the earth roared with a crash that made the rocks vibrate.
“What was that?” Brooklyn sounded nearly hysterical.
“The lightning struck right outside.” Even Blake’s voice sounded shaky.
My heart was fluttering beneath my throat, and then I suddenly felt it. Kason’s hand wrapping warm around mine with the same reassurance as the rollercoaster day. I glanced at him, and even in the shadows of the cave, I could see his expression. That eager alertness, that sense of wonder that never seemed to leave him.
“Smell that in the air?” His voice was low enough that only I could hear him.
I sniffed and caught a new smell. A sharp, almost metallic scent. “What is that?”
“The smell of lightning.” He glanced up toward the skylight, what little light there was glancing off his face. “Light. The edge of a great mystery, remember?”
And this sounds crazy, but somehow, deep in the dark, I did remember the light. And right there, in the cracking thunder and the relentless rain, I sort of understood, just for a moment, the great hovering mystery that Kason and Jaz seemed to trust implicitly. I could feel it, the power that trembled through the land and the stars and the lines in between, and I knew—I knew—that whatever it was I was chasing, echoes of it were in the flaming red rocks and the dark knowing of the caves and the stardust sand that only God could count.
And in the warmth of Kason’s hand.
I squeezed his hand, there in the dark, and I felt his fingers tighten gently around mine. And then neither of us said anything again as we waited, as the time stretched longer between each thunderclap, as the rain’s angry pounding softened, as finally a burst of sudden sunshine splashed down over us all.
Saturday, June 16
Amarillo, Texas
There’s something strange about lightning. All that electricity, cutting through the clouds. So much power. Too much power?
I wish I knew why Kason is never afraid.