The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  My heart ached far beyond any despair I’d ever felt before. Its potency made bile creep up my throat and grey spots, as grey as Lily’s eyes, danced across the world around me. For a moment, they left me completely blind.

  Gasping, I yanked my hand away. The pencil fell back to the floor.

  “W…Lily?” I muttered, teeth chattering. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes bored through me. She blinked a few times, shook her head, and then leapt to her feet with both hands pale against the desk.

  Mrs. Brown stopped her insufferable droning to study her. “Is everything alright, Lily?”

  Lily hesitated, gaze focusing and unfocusing on my hands, but, with a tremor and with arms shielding her face, she darted toward the hall.

  “Lily? Lily!”

  She didn’t return.

  And, come to think of it, neither did Phil. I hadn’t expected he would show up after class to provide protection, should I encounter Gregory in the hall—and I most certainly wasn’t disappointed that those expectations had gone unfulfilled. Still, it occurred to me that it was strange not seeing Phil’s blonde head tower over my classmates. Loathe as I was to admit it, even Gregory’s absence stirred anxiety in my gut.

  Robbed of all other occupation, I looked for them through the lunch—in the cafeteria, in the parking lot, and even in the library, where he’d hidden before—but the Bronwyns never showed. I wished I could’ve known that before deciding to sit alone in the lunchroom.

  The room around me bustled with human interaction that called to me like a beacon, even if, yesterday, I would’ve been thoroughly repulsed. I’d never noticed the group of girls at the neighboring table; they looked happy. Happier than me, anyway, even if that wasn’t a very high standard at present.

  They glowed. Whether by a new brand of lightbulbs or the recently returning natural light that streamed through the window—or perhaps Zach’s presence had claimed my attention in days past so thoroughly that I’d never noticed before—their bare skin reflected a golden halo. Almost against my will, I stood up, pulled in their direction to touch it.

  Confusion playing out in equal measure across five different faces stopped me in my tracks. “Oh…” If not for the growing glow to their flesh, I might’ve forgotten what I was doing here. Their flickering doe eyes had already turned my mouth dry. “Hi?” One of the girls wore a V-neck, and the uninterrupted expanse of her throat captivated me. I forced myself to smile and look into her eyes and forget that I was thirsty. “C…could I sit with you guys? It’s a little lonely over there.”

  If they were off-put by my stutter, they didn’t show it. The one at the forefront, the one with the tantalizing neck, returned my smile. “Of course.”

  As I sat, I let my fingers brush over her knuckles in a gesture I hoped would convey friend. In actuality, warmth leeched through my skin and dispersed across the rest of my body until I overflowed with positivity and comfort. The worries over Zach, the anger at Gregory, the apprehension over Lily’s absence…

  Everything faded away, lost to a place I couldn’t reach.

  And that made it easy to talk to my new friends. Heavy conversation eluded them in favor of boy-talk, an impending field trip for Astronomy, and one girl’s to-do list of college applications. Normal stuff. Teenager stuff. Non-death-related stuff. It had never occurred to me that I might miss something like that.

  When I strode toward class with smile still alight, no towering blonde head or violet eyes stopped me. Astronomy saw much of the same, with Phil’s chair noticeably empty, although he must’ve been here and gone, because a permission slip for the field trip with his name and the unintelligible scrawl of his parent’s consent sat on the corner of our teacher, Dr. Penn’s, desk.

  Right next to mine.

  I couldn’t put a name to who’d signed, as it definitely wasn’t the Katherine Graves it claimed to be. But that was most assuredly my name, scripted in elegant cursive at the top, despite the fact that the field trip was news. To. Me. It had to have been presented on my day spent in isolation.

  Then one of the girls from lunch—Sam, my mind slowly put together—waved me over to a seat she’d saved, just for me, and I no longer cared. On her every side, a new group of similarly carefree people, whose hands I shook one by one, surrounded her. I couldn’t worry, even if curiosity pricked behind my happy thoughts. I felt restored. Not like I’d already mourned and recovered from Zach’s condition, but like he was still alive and well and in a class of his own, somewhere across the building.

  Gym felt even better, in part, I had to admit, because violet eyes stared down at me from the bleachers. Phil waved to me, patting the seat beside him. The snickering, narrowed eyes, and even scattered gasps proved that everyone noticed. They only grew when I refused him.

  Every day I’d spent in this room, I’d chosen aerobic walking as my sport of choice. It was easy, impossible to fail, and the only option that didn’t necessitate getting close to anyone. Today, that prospect wholly disagreed with me.

  I chose touch football. Without hesitation. I threw myself into the game with a fervor that intimidated my teammates. Sweat-slicked skin felt just as good as dry and then perhaps even better.

  The bell rang too soon. Running off to the locker rooms, I high-fived and patted the others as we left the court and received the same treatment in kind. The day felt short; too short. The rest of the afternoon spent sitting alone in the empty store no longer held any sway.

  I rushed through dressing. With every second closer to the final bell, my expectation that Phil would still be there in the bleachers when I emerged dimmed and dimmed and a future solidified of a lonely walk home in the cold. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach upon first glance up into the wooden stands: no Phil.

  That shouldn’t have stung as much as it did; Phil was prone to bouts of sudden disappearances. And even with the twinge of disappointment, my spirits were high enough that a walk didn’t sound so bad. Still, I’d thought…I’d hoped he might want to see me as much as I wanted to see him.

  My back prickled, skin warming, hair rising. By the time I turned, the body before me came so close that I had to crane my neck all the way back to meet violet eyes. My face ached with my smile. “Thought you’d left me.”

  Phil snorted. “Why would I do that?”

  “You keep disappearing?”

  He fought it but the corner of his lip forced itself upward. “I thought you might miss me.”

  “Don’t get a big head.”

  He stepped closer. “So I was wrong? You are not happy to see me?”

  If the appeal of the others had been like water to the very thirsty, the temptation to touch Phil felt like the world’s most irresistible magnet. Once my eyes met the pink line of his mouth, I couldn’t look away of my own accord.

  Would he have minded if I just reached up and let my fingers fall on the swell of that bottom lip? I didn’t think so, but even so, I might’ve been alright with asking forgiveness rather than permission just this once. My hand twitched, grazing his. The harsh grate of inhuman flesh snapped me back to reality.

  “I’m happy to see your car,” I croaked.

  His smile grew. “What have I told you about lying, Eden?”

  Hiding my reddening face in my shoulder, I tapped his shin with a playful kick. “Alright…you’ve clearly outmatched me with your sixth sense. I’ll admit defeat.” I took his hand and started toward the door. “Any chance you might be hungry? I could go for some dinner before we call it a night.”

  Phil deflated. “I do not get hungry. Not like you do.”

  “Then taste. You don’t have to be hungry to enjoy a milkshake.”

  “You don’t understand. I do not eat.”

  I chuckled. “I saw you eat though. You buy lunch. A lot of it, actually.”

  “Just because I buy food doesn’t mean I eat it.”

  “But…you can eat food, can’t you?”

  “Eat, yes. Food—I am afraid our food is vastly diffe
rent from yours.” His dark tone came dangerously close to killing my buzz. I didn’t want to ask.

  “Oh, put away your scary face, Phil. You’ve got a mouth, don’t you?”

  He blanched. “Yes?”

  “And a stomach?”

  “Debatable.”

  I snorted. “I guess we’re going to find out.”

  9. Secrets

  “The chicken is mine,” I argued, wrenching the sandwich free of his teeth. “You got the beef.”

  He didn’t bother to chew. The words emerged around a mouthful of bread and poultry. “Would you like it back?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  Bits of food fell over my side of the car like rain.

  “Ew!” Though I shielded my eyes, a wet clump of sandwich landed in my lashes. “You animal.”

  “You said you wanted it.”

  Even robbed of my food, I adored that Phil liked it enough to sneak it out of the bag. He’d been reluctant at first, and he’d pretended not to like the chocolate milkshake I’d ordered for him, but now, six burgers, one chicken sandwich, and fifteen nuggets later, he sipped on that shake with greater and greater purpose. I believed that over his words. “I wanted you to go back in time and stop yourself from eating it in the first place. Did I really have to specify?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Would you be willing to forgive me in exchange for a chicken nugget?”

  “Ten nuggets.”

  “Two nuggets.”

  “That’s not how haggling works, Phil. You ate everything! I’m going to starve. Show some compassion before I shrivel up.”

  He scoffed. “You are awfully rude. I’m taking back that milkshake.”

  I took the cup before he could. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Nevertheless, he leaned over the center console to swipe at my drink.

  “No! Go away! Brute!” I squealed, retreating into the leather upholstery. I thought I heard him laugh under his breath as he stretched over me, body on body, chest very nearly against chest. My giggles died. Save for an instant a million years ago, of my pale-haired angel rescuing me from a flaming car, I’d never been so close to him.

  I wondered if he came to a similar realization; as I silenced, so did he. We hung in suspension, deafened by the harsh inhales rasping through his parted lips. Deafened by mine. Once again, the sight of that mouth so close made time stand still. Would it be hard—unyielding—like I knew the flesh of his hands to be? Or would it be as soft as it looked?

  All I’d have to do was crane my chin to know for sure.

  But Phil stiffened, mouth snapping shut. He scowled through the passenger’s side window. “The sun’s going down.”

  While I heard him, the gravity of his dissatisfaction didn’t occur to me until he’d retreated to his seat and shoved the car into drive. “S…so?”

  “So I—I have to go home.”

  “Curfew?”

  His frown tightened.

  “Oh. Angel stuff.”

  He didn’t reply, which I assumed meant the affirmative.

  “You know…I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit here. I saw you put your fist through a windshield without a scratch and I haven’t told anyone. You have to know you can trust me.”

  He mulled over the words for a long time. Long enough that I thought he wouldn’t speak at all. “I trust you.”

  “So why won’t you talk to me?”

  “I never thought you’d betray me, Eden. I’ve worried—I still worry—that I will do something or say something and it will make you realize that I might look like a human and walk like a human and sound like a human, but I will never be a human. And when that happens, you will run. Screaming.” All the while, he kept his stare trained on the road. The steering wheel creaked under his white-knuckled grip.

  And I wasn’t amused. “You’re taking yourself a little too seriously, Phil.”

  “You’re not taking it seriously enough!”

  “How could I? I don’t know anything about it,” I demanded. “But I do know that you saved my life. Whatever you think is so bad about being an angel, it can’t change that much.”

  He chewed on his inner cheek. “What do I look like to you?”

  “Do you want a mirror? I see a few.” With the intention of making a joke, I grabbed the rearview mirror to turn it on him, but he was faster, hand cupped over its own reflection to keep it still.

  I flinched. Froze. Blinked around what haze must’ve been obstructing my sight.

  In flesh and blood, he looked normal. Tanned skin, reflecting a dull glow like muted sunlight, wrapped large hands that quivered with hidden inhuman strength. In the mirror, he was something…else.

  Shriveled fingers reflected back, curled like the skinned and blackened protrusions of a charred skeleton. Thick black claws tipped the ends.

  I withdrew my hand, movements slow, mouth agape. As much as I tried for words, none would emerge. Phil frowned, thrusting his arm into his chest, and then back to the steering wheel where it had begun. “If you could see what I look like—what I really look like—you would be horrified,” he whispered. “I would give you nightmares. Underneath whatever skin you see, I am a creature more akin to a snake than a human like you.”

  He looked awfully human to me. I stared across the empty space and tried to find a hint of the charred bones from the mirror in that boyish face. But I didn’t. I saw a man. A man whose proximity still made my heart race.

  “You’ve got hair so blonde it’s practically white,” I murmured. “It’s getting too long in the front, like you’ve put off a haircut. And a round jaw, not soft but…inviting. You’re too tall for doorways, so it’s kind of funny watching you duck into rooms. Your fingers are long—bass player fingers. And they’re always warm, even through gloves. Bottom lip is too big to match the top. And your eyes tilt just a little bit up at the corners…”

  Against my will, I looked away from the steering wheel just enough to meet those eyes and instantly regretted it. I could feel his gaze caress my skin. Softly. Tenderly. My stomach flipped and I glanced back at his hands to hide from it.

  That made no difference; his eyes burned. “Was that good enough?”

  The car pulled to a stop, Garden of Eden sign occupying the whole of the car’s windshield, awash in the day’s dying light. Home. He held out his hand for me and I deliberated a long while before, inevitably, taking it. If I’d thought my nerves were frayed without the added benefit of physical touch, I vibrated with it now. His arm moved under mine, forcing me to caress the scaly expanse of his forearm. “Do you see that?”

  I nodded.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Just…smooth skin.”

  “But it doesn’t feel that way.” His fingers clasped loosely around my wrist, pads drawing circles into my human flesh. He seemed entranced by the flat plane. “It is an act. It shows you what you find most attractive. So I look different to you than I would look to anyone else. What do I smell like?”

  “Roses.”

  “It is no coincidence that I smell like what you love most.” He cast the door aside, stepping into the parking lot without warning or explanation. In three strides, he’d already rounded the car and offered me a hand.

  I tried not to show my disappointment. “Does that mean no more talking?”

  “Only for tonight.”

  He stole my hand, pulling me up and into him like the opening steps to some intricate dance. My nose accidentally brushed his neck and raised a trail of goosebumps along his skin. I had to disentangle myself before I got too comfortable; despite the scaly grate of his flesh and the shell-like feel of his abdomen, embracing Phil felt as inviting as I’d envisioned.

  I cleared my throat. “No chance I could get you to stay?”

  “It gives me no pleasure to leave you. If I had the choice…”

  My head nodded but I didn’t understand. “What happens when the sun goes down?”

  “I will show you. Someda
y. But not today.” He bowed low, bringing the back of my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. First light. Don’t bring lunch. I think I’d like to pay you back for that chicken sandwich.”

  Oh, right. The Astronomy trip. As Phil released me and started toward the driver’s side, I recalled class a few hours ago, and a paper marked by handwriting I didn’t recognize. “Did you forge my permission slip?”

  “You missed the deadline.”

  “And that’s…all the explanation needed?”

  He kept up a perfectly blank façade. “I figured I would save you a day of missing me.”

  I almost snorted, but a foreign sensation pricked at my brain. Some part of my psyche tried to slither out and probe at it to find out what it was, but, as a whole, I retreated. The taste repulsed. It burned. It choked me up.

  And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Phil was lying to me.

  “Oh…okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Phil frowned. I thought he would speak again but with another scowl at the fleeting sunlight, he pulled himself into the car and peeled out of the parking lot. With every foot that Mustang crept into the distance, the unpleasantness at the edge of my subconscious ebbed. It never vanished, even when I climbed the stairs and flopped onto the greenhouse bench. Even when I crawled into bed. Even when the sun fell behind the horizon.

  And it was the first thing I felt when I woke up Tuesday morning. Besides, of course, the headache and the upset stomach.

  ***

  As far as planetariums went, it probably wasn’t impressive. The stone looked to be in a state of semi-dilapidation, the paint covering the school in light blues and white had faded to grey, and the sidewalks split in massive cracks. But I’d never seen a planetarium before, so the dome-shaped building nearest the parking lot seized my attention, nonetheless.

  I stepped off the bottom step of the bus and surveyed the area with disgust. Joy County College looked like everything I hated about our little town: much too small, much too simple, much too…familiar. It sent a shudder down my back to think that, if Illinois didn’t get back to me, I might actually get stuck here next year.