by Alex Hayes
The car was my gran’s, and I never had the heart to change the station. “Nope. Like I said, it’s grown on me.”
Shri sighs. “Yeah, well, I’ve been marinating in Science Friday for so long Ira Flatow’s hit bone-marrow. My dad’s mad for the show.”
“So if I turn on your radio, what’ll I hear?”
“Nothing, actually.” An eyebrow twitches as she returns my smile. “It died last year, and I’m pretty much waiting for the rest of my heap of a Jeep to follow suit.”
As I navigate through the parking lot, a shout from outside draws my attention. Jake. I almost roll up the window.
My former best friend stands beside his yellow hot rod. Next to him is his girlfriend and her twin sister, who Jake wanted me to ask out months ago.
He holds up his thumbs with mock approval. “Hey, if it ain’t Gomez and Morticia!”
“He’s such a dick,” I mutter, then glance an apology at Shri.
She shrugs. “Good thing you’re not friends anymore then, ain’t it?”
Five months since he ruined my life, and I haven’t spoken to him since. I took a stand, and he turned everyone in school against me.
Everyone except Shri.
After casting Jake a frigid look, I turn out of the school lot.
Two weeks. That’s all we have left and high school will be over.
Shri’s lips part, then her phone buzzes. She rifles through her courier bag for the device, glances at the screen and puts it to her ear. “Hello?”
A gravelly voice shouts loud enough for me to hear, “Shri? That you?”
Her brow twists as she holds the phone a few inches from her lobe. “Hey, Mr. Jacobsen.”
The Jacobsens used to own the goat farm where Shri and I work. Then they moved across state lines from Vermont to New York after Tom Jacobsen was hurt in a tractor accident.
A shudder ripples between my shoulders. Shri and I were on the scene when the accident happened. If it hadn’t been for Cadi and her telekinesis, Tom could’ve died.
And if it hadn’t been for my big mouth and Jake, Cadi and the Jacobsens would still be here.
“Seriously?” Shri says in response to Tom’s words. Her eyes widen as she looks through the windshield. “How long? Sure I’m interested. Yeah, my last day at the farm’s tomorrow. Matt gave me notice a while back. Writing was on the wall though, you know… So let me talk to Dad, make sure he’s okay with it, and I’ll call you back.”
A murmur comes from the phone.
“He’s right here, actually, but driving. Can I give him a message?” She listens for a minute or so, then says goodbye and hangs up.
We approach the goat farm entrance, where Shri abandoned her car this morning and caught a ride to school with me. I slow to take the turn. “What was that all about?”
Shri grins, still clutching her phone. “Tom Jacobsen just invited us to work for him over the summer. He’s planning a building project on their property in the Adirondacks and needs help. Says the work’ll take a couple of months and he could use both of us.”
My chest deflates because, as great as the job sounds, I can’t take it. I grope for an easy excuse. “Where would we stay?”
“At their place. He says they have guest rooms.”
A crushing sensation in my abdomen makes me pause. “And what about Cadi?” I wish it didn’t hurt so much to say her name out loud.
Shri’s shoulders drop. “Didn’t ask, but I assume she’ll be there.”
I pin my eyes to the dirt road ahead. “And she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” Shri frowns like she’s not happy about where this conversation’s going. “Maybe inviting us was her idea.”
No way in hell. “Yeah, which makes total sense since she disappeared off the face of the planet.”
“She lost her cell phone.”
“And then she found it and I haven’t heard a peep from her since.” I slow as we come to a cattle grid and the car rumbles over the top. “Have you?”
Shri sighs. “She texts occasionally, though it’s been a while.”
“Let’s face it, she blames me for everything that happened after Tom’s accident.” And so she should. “I’ve got to be the last person she wants to spend the summer with.” Even though I’d jump at the chance to see her again, try to make things right between us. Damn it, I still care way too much about her.
I swallow a sigh. It’s impossible for me to leave home right now, anyway. But I can’t explain that to Shri without telling her all the things I’ve kept hidden over the two years I’ve known her.
“What if Cadi didn’t mind you being there? Would you go?” she asks.
“I have a job at the farm. Matt didn’t give me notice.”
She rolls her eyes and I can guess what she’s thinking. Writing was on the wall though, you know… I’m next.
Except, Matt needs an experienced worker. He can’t run the farm alone. We’re stretched already and it’ll be worse when Shri leaves. He’d be crazy to let me go.
I stop the car next to her Jeep Cherokee and turn off the engine. “It’s not just having the job here. Or Cadi, either. I need to take care of my brother.”
Shri freezes, then says slowly, “So how come you never mentioned you have a brother?”
Crap. Two years, and yeah, I’ve never mentioned Ty. I pull out the car key. “Because he never came up in conversation.”
Shri stares at me. “How is that even possible? You’ve mentioned your dog, like, a million times.”
Sure, because Pepper is normal, unlike the rest of my family. But how am I going to explain that to you?
“Is he older than you?” she asks.
That might justify my not mentioning him, if he’d moved away and was never home.
I sigh because the proverbial lid is swiveling off a can of worms I’ll never get closed again. “Younger. Eleven in September. Ty. Short for Tyler, but he hates that name.”
Shri waits, arms crossed and eyes expectant.
I rub my hands down my thighs. “He’s a little different, that’s all. One of those creative kids. Plays guitar like nobody’s business, thinks the sole purpose of a phone is to shoot video and that he’s gonna be the next Stan Lee. He’s highly distractible and next to impossible to get to do homework. In short, a pain in the butt.” Not a fair description of my baby brother, but I’m hoping it’ll convince Shri to let this go.
“He sounds wonderful.” Her enthusiasm makes me think she really means that too. “You’ll have to introduce us sometime.”
I force a smile. “Yeah.” Totally not happening.
Shri glances toward her Jeep. “Guess I’m outta here. Hopefully Matt figured out what’s wrong.”
I get out of the driver’s seat and rest my forearms on the car roof, while Shri throws her bag onto the Jeep’s passenger seat and starts the engine. The painful metallic groan, like a gearshift being forced without using the clutch, makes me shudder. The engine stalls and the driver’s door opens.
Shri looks at me. “What does that sound mean?”
I purse my lips because I don’t think she’s going to want to hear my diagnosis. “Problem with the transmission.”
“As in it needs to be replaced,” Matt Thompson calls from the direction of the barn. He strides toward us in tan overalls and a long-sleeved denim shirt, rubbing his bristly wheat-colored hair. “Must’ve been giving you trouble for a while.”
Shri’s face scrunches. “Yeah. I was hoping she’d last through the end of school.”
Matt offers a sympathetic nod. “You got Triple-A? Because you’re gonna need to get her towed.”
She nods and rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll call them.”
In less than half an hour, the Cherokee is hoisted onto the back of a tow truck and goes trundling down the driveway, leaving Shri staring after it.
“Get in,” I say. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
She smiles her thanks and we head out. It occurs to me I don’t know w
here she lives and ask for directions.
Is our friendship sad or what? That we know next to nothing about each other’s lives outside of work and school. I feel closer to Shri than anyone, yet I still don’t dare tell her the truth.
Hell, what does that say about me?
“This street here.” Shri points to a narrow road that passes between a couple of farmhouses, then winds up the side of a hill. “Gotta pick up the mail, so no need to turn in. I’ll walk from here.”
The two farmsteads look rundown, one practically falling apart and the other with a front yard full of rusty trailers and gutted joyriders.
I pull over beside a set of three mailboxes and she climbs out.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Welcome. Hey,” I call after her.
She turns back to look through the passenger window.
“You need a ride in the morning?”
Her face drops. “Tomorrow’s my last day. Can’t miss that. I’ve gotta say goodbye to all the goat kids.” Half of which she watched being born in the barn.
The melancholy in her eyes hits me like a fist to the diaphragm because, for the first time, I have to acknowledge that after tomorrow we won’t be working together.
“Meet you here at a quarter till five?” she asks.
I wink at her. “You got it.”
Her sad smile makes me swallow. She steps to the curb and waves as I pull away.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I catch sight of her walking up the road toward the more ramshackle place.
3
Cadi
I perch cross-legged on the black leather sectional in the basement of the Thorny Rose working through calculus problems. The Thorny Rose is an old station building and one-time nightclub, now owned by Marek’s mom.
Marek is Idris’s best friend and a science geek. He helped Idris figure out how to use his sound manipulation abilities to cut through a steel door and find me on the other side of the wormhole.
Idris sits at the opposite end of the sectional, fingering a romantic ballad on his acoustic guitar. His music is perfect for helping me concentrate, and I fly through my math homework and move onto physics.
All’s good until he starts to sing. New lyrics. He whispers the words, but his voice sucks my attention like a vacuum.
His gentle tones play like fingers up my spine and along my shoulder blades. My toes curl and my leg muscles tingle.
Paper flutters to the floor and the physics textbook slides off my knee onto the seat. I untwine my legs and wiggle across soft leather until my jean-clad thigh touches his.
Lost in the music, he doesn’t respond. So I watch his face. Emotions tighten and relax his features, telling a story all their own. So beautiful. So hypnotic. So sexy.
My body picks up the beat, swaying in sync to the song, while my heart rate echoes its rhythm.
Is he doing this deliberately?
I discovered his control over sound the day we met, the like me signal he unknowingly transmitted and pledged never to use again. But this attraction isn’t the same. Nor is it like the tugging pull that connects us through our crystals. No, this is something different.
Idris, what are you doing to me?
He seems oblivious, even as my arms wrap around his neck like charmed snakes, fingers weaving into the tight curls at his nape, bringing me closer and closer until my proximity interferes with his playing.
“Cadi, what are you…?” His eyes meet mine and widen. A puzzled frown settles onto his features as he sets aside the guitar.
My thighs slide over his until I’m straddled across his lap, hips rocking back and forth, tighter and tighter, until I can feel his body pressed into mine.
His arms circle my waist, long fingers cupping my butt and pulling me closer.
God, I want him. Right. Now.
There are a few rules at the Thorny Rose, guidelines Idris and Marek came up with when Marek’s mom gave them permission to use the place to practice music. For one, sex is allowed only in the bedroom with the door bolted. That way, no chance of inadvertent interruptions or embarrassment.
The sectional is not in the bedroom.
“Maybe we should—” he starts.
My mouth lands on his as I shove him into the seat cushions.
What is going on with me?
But I can’t stop. My mind tells me it’s too much effort, and what are the chances Marek will show up in the next half hour, anyway?
Idris escapes my lips long enough to say, “Cadi, love, what are you—”
I cut him off again, my mouth on his, as my hips grind into him. This makes no sense, but god, it feels so…
He rolls me onto my back, pressing me into the couch, and pulls his mouth away. “Cadi, what the hell?”
“I need you.” I lunge for him, but he flattens me back into the cushions.
“Cadi! Close your eyes and imagine jumping into the hidden lake. In winter. In the freezing cold. Wearing overalls, hip waders and a really ugly canvas hat.”
A low chuckle rattles from my throat. “What color?”
“Huh?” He stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “Oh. Uh… puce?”
I burst out laughing. “What kind of color is that?”
His hold on me relaxes. “Dunno. A pukey pink, I guess.”
A lot of deep breathing, but that crazy image broke the spell. “I-I think I’m okay now.”
He lets me up and retreats to the opposite end of the couch. “What the hell just happened?”
“You started singing and I… Well, I wanted you. Badly.” I shake my head, trying to keep the amorous fog from returning.
Idris stands. “Come on, I could use your help with some backup vocals for this new song. Maybe that’ll distract you.”
I nod.
He grabs his guitar and leads me into what used to be the nightclub office. Its soundproof walls make the space perfect for recording, and Idris has all the equipment set up. I sit on the gray velvet couch across from the desk and wait for his direction.
I’ve never been much of a singer, but when Idris is around, staying in tune is easy. He explains what he wants me to do, turns on the recorder, then starts playing his guitar. I close my eyes and feel the beat pulse through my crystal, keeping me in time. In a way, I become an extension of Idris and the words pour out.
After several takes, Idris stops playing and switches off the recorder. “That was beautiful, babe.” He drops onto the couch next to me.
The music has stopped, but the beat plays on inside my head. I lean closer, breathe in his citrus scent and a muskiness that triggers those jumping hormones again. “Idris,” I murmur. “I could seriously jump you right now.”
He pulls me against him. “Well, we could…” His cheeks darken. “I mean, maybe it’s time we, uh… you know.”
I pull back, suspiciously. “What?”
“Like… make love in our natural form. That might release the hormonal whatever-it-is that’s going on with you.”
He’s talking about turning Livran. Not a good idea. “But what if I get preg—”
“You’d have to stay in that form for several hours afterward, right?” A suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. “Why not do this and get it out of your system?”
My hormones say, Yes! Oh, yes!
But my mind’s playing devil’s advocate. In the cold light of reality, having sex in Livran form is such a bad idea.
At least, right now.
Of course, I want kids with Idris. Someday. Mr. Scrim talked about building a Livran colony, and I’m all for that. But our kids will need crystals and other kids growing up with them. The ar’n bala tree has only just been planted, and to my knowledge, there are no other Livran kids on the way.
If anything, those like us who escaped Daïzani aren’t much more than kids themselves. I’m almost eighteen, but I don’t feel anything close to adult.
I shake my head. “There’d still be risks. What if all that stuff happens in minutes
? Before I change back?”
He sighs and brushes my cheek. “I wasn’t suggesting we stop using protection.”
My lungs fill up on his musky scent.
Idris pulls me to my feet and into his arms. “You decide. I’m just saying I’m up for whatever you want.”
I melt against him. “What I want probably isn’t…” My mouth finds his, making my desires all too clear, and what’s left of my resolve turns to smoke and blows away.
His body shimmers, molten silver, then fills out under his clothes into a body more muscular, greener, scalier and… way sexier. “You’re sure about this?”
Ugh! Why’d he have to shape shift and then ask me that?
I’m really not sure. At all. In fact, I think I need to get out of here. Away from him, his scent and his sexy body.
I close my eyes and try to block out the image.
His scaled hands brush my bare arms. Hairs bristle under his fingertips. I think about chopping onions, peeling potatoes, scrubbing pans.
His fingers skim my jaw. “I love you, Cadi,” he whispers.
He has no idea what he’s doing to me. How out of control I feel right now. And I’m doing a terrible job communicating that.
I want him so badly.
My disapproving-busybody-old-lady sense kicks in, determined to save me. “I gotta go!” I exit the recording room and dive up the staircase. Sunshine, fresh air, that’ll do the trick.
I reach the top of the stairs, panting, and stop short.
Mrs. Lakewood, Marek’s mom, steps through the back door.
Oh my god.
She swings to face me, her conservative high heels clacking on the wood floor. “Hi, Cadi.” Her smile morphs into a frown. “Are you okay?”
I force a grin but know my face is as pink as a petunia. “Fine.” Think of an excuse that isn’t a complete lie! “I… um, just had this really strange reaction.” I reach a hand to my shoulder and scratch. “And it made me kind of… itchy.”
Will she buy it? Will Idris come flying up the stairs all green and scaly, and scare the hell out of her?
Footsteps pound the wood stairs behind me.
I hold my breath.
Perfect Pitch