• That night, the night I knew for sure she was still alive, it was raining. It was one of those nights that begin horror stories, cold and stormy. However, since her disappearance, I hadn’t looked at storms the same way. For me, they were no longer fearful omens of some evil power, but a sign that a challenge was coming – challenge I had promised to overcome and conquer many times over. The deal had been simple – she didn’t die, and when she came back I would follow in her footsteps and find whatever it was she expected to find out there also.
    That night, she was standing outside my window. I remember smirking because she seemed almost as happy as she was wet - and she was very, very wet. She just smiled and pointed at me, forcing me to remember our deal, and then turned and ran off my front lawn and down my driveway, back into the soaking twilight. If I had come to my senses a moment sooner, I might have gotten my shoes on in time to catch her and tackle her into staying. Instead, all I found was a letter on my doorstep. I was bloody pissed that she hadn’t stayed long enough to even say hello, but as her boyfriend had often said to me, “Sarah isn’t someone you can cage. She’s different from the rest of us, bigger than her own life should allow. It’s silly to expect her to act like a normal human being when she is so much that something else, whatever that is.” He was right, but that didn’t help how much I missed her. We all missed her.
    The day she left for teh first time, we were all still high the paradise that is Portland in the Summer. It was early September, and the kind of glow that only comes from Oregonians who have obviously had too much sun was still clinging to our arms and faces. Wincing, I sat down on Sarah’s couch, enjoying the last day of the always too-short summer break. “Ok, next time we go camping on the lake, I’m going to bring at least two more extra tubes of sunscreen. Oh, and David, I still hold to the idea that the whole ‘let put on war paint and charcoal on and be right in Rachel’s face when she wakes up’ joke was NOT funny in any way, shape or form. You owe Sarah big time for convincing me to let you keep all your limbs intact.” Sarah started cracking up all over again and fell over on the couch. David, who was standing against the wall, hoarding all the pickled halibut, just smirked and kept on chewing, a light in his eyes that I had quickly learned meant only one thing: doom.
    That was the way it was for us, all summer had been spent together, the three of us. David had answered Sarah’s prayer and finally moved to Portland after all this time away from her. Together we had everything, love fun, and an endless supply of rules to break. It was the kind of summer that goes on for years upon years’ worth of perfect moments, and then ends long before your ready. That day, as the sun began to set, and I was setting up my sleeping bag in her room, she had looked out her window at the school, and without expression of any sort, had revealed to me her devastating plan.
    “I’m goanna do it,” she spoke just loud enough for me to hear, “I’m going out there,” she motioned with her arm in a wide arc, “I’m finally feel like I’m ready. But you have to promise me something.”
    She suddenly looked me straight in the eye, caching me off guard again, “What kind of promise?” I asked, knowing all to well what her answer was, and praying to whatever gods controlled the inner machinations of Sarah’s mind that I was mistaken.
    I want you to promise me that if and when I get back – I am coming back, you can count on that – that you’ll go out there too, and come back with the same thing I found. You and me, we’ll do it like the Native Americans. You and I will come back ready for anything. We’ll be ready for your Armageddon. Deal?” In that single word, “Deal?” I heard my life being decided. This was how it was going to happen. How could I say no to the one person who had in many ways literally dragged me out of conformity into being my own person? I smiled, although there wasn’t much joy in it. I knew I had no real choice.
    “Deal.” I heard myself say, and in it I heard the tone respect from follower to leader, and tones from an equal to a dear friend. My smile widened. I really did want this after all. I starched out my arm, opened my hand, and felt Sarah’s own warm palm embrace mine in our most sacred hand shake. We’d only used it once before, when he promised each other to not ever loose ourselves in adulthood. That was a very sunny, vary warm day.
    Sarah beamed at me and I pulled her in for a hug. I knew she didn’t particularly like any hugs that weren’t from David, but I also knew that she knew that I needed hugs. That’s just the way I am. There were no tears as I watched her start to write a latter to David – this was not the kind of thing she would be able to explain to his face – and listened to her ramble on and on about what to do with this or that thing so that her wicked mother wouldn’t try and sell them or throw them away. Not to say I wasn’t horribly sad, just that it was the sort of sadness that come from a grave mission, or a temporary goodbye, both of which applied in this case.
    “I’ll be gone before you wake up - I’m leaving at sunrise. I’ll come back when I’ve found what I’m looking for, but you can’t tell David what’s going on until you’re sure I’m good and gone. Then give him this latter.” She folded the piece of paper she had been furiously scribbling on, and put in my hand. “Don’t read it, just give it to him. Oh, and tell him he can take whatever he wants, but the books I’m leaving with you – you can read them if you like.” I was torn between not listening in the vain hope that if I didn’t hear her, it would somehow undo everything, and it would be like she had never said it; and listening avidly in order to understand exactly she wanted me to do in order to make this as easy for everyone involved as possible. I firmly forced myself to chose the latter. “This latter, on the other hand,” she thrust another piece of paper at my chest, shaking it slightly to be sure I noticed and took it, “is for you. Read it…” she pause for a bit to think, and then a small smile curled her lips, “Read it on the night of the next full moon, so you won’t be quite so scared when you read it. You have to read it as late at night a possible though, as all the spirits and monsters get a good look at it too, ok?” I nodded slowly, I would have agreed to anything then to make it all go smoothly. With some effort I managed to voice the question that had been forming in my mind for some time.
    “What about David? How will I keep him from trying to track you down?”
    “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have it covered. You know I’ve wanted to do this forever, and it’s not like I haven’t talked to him about this already, I mean, he knows…” She suddenly turned away from me, and looked down ant the pencil in her hand. I realized then that this was just as hard for her as it was me. Even if Sarah had always been the one who was against everything, the one who was the strongest out of all of us in our little cult, it didn’t mean that going out into whatever wild she found to be alone form everyone - including the ones she loved – wasn’t going to be hard. All over again I felt awe and respect wash over me, even though I knew what she was doing was foolish and insane, I also knew how much she wanted to do this, and how much courage it was taking her to finally go through with it. I reached out and touched her shoulder.
    “Try not to kill yourself, eh?” I smirked, doing my best to lighten the mood.
    “Yeah, I’ll work on that.” She mocked in her usual sarcastic tone.
    “We should probably get some sleep. We both have loooong days ahead.”
    Sarah just nodded, and, placing the notes under my pillow, I curled up in my sleeping bag, unsure if I would actually be able to sleep, knowing that at some point in the night, I would hear her tiptoe out of bed, out of the house, out of mine and David’s lives for God only knew how long. Strangely enough, I feel asleep quickly and soundly. That night, it rained for the first time in months. That night, nobody dreamed.