Shadow Hills

by Anastasia Hopcus

  “Are you sure that won’t make my hair look brassy?” I really didn’t do yellow.

  “Of course not.” Adriana waved this worry away. “I know what I’m doing.”

  The dress had kimono sleeves and was body hugging from the waist down to my knees.

  “You don’t look quite as good in it as I do. But you’re still hot.” Adriana spun me around to look in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her door.

  She was right about the mustard shade. It subtly brought out the pale golden tones in my ashy-blonde hair. However, my fair complexion needed some blush.

  “So.” Adriana looked down at my old Vans lying on her floor. “What are we going to do about shoes? Because those look tiny.”

  “Not tiny,” I defended my undersize feet. “I wear a seven.”

  “Yeah, well, I wear a nine, and you are not wearing my dress with those shoes.” She looked at them distastefully.

  “Oh, I’ve got an idea!” I ignored her disparaging inflection. “Moccasins.”

  “I think you’re a little late on that idea, honey. The Indians thought of moccasins a few hundred years ago.”

  “No. I mean I have some. And did you just say Indians?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “We can’t all be from California,” Adriana said by way of an answer. “I mean, let’s consider the name of the Washington football team my dad played on.”

  “Point taken.” I nodded and headed next door to my room.

  I grabbed the black ankle-boot moccasins out of my backpack and slipped them on. They were simple, with one row of fringe running vertically down the side where they tied closed.

  “Wow.” Adriana looked at me in surprise when I came back. “That’s actually really cute. Obviously not something someone like me would wear.” She snorted at this notion. “But perfect for an L.A. native. Funky.”

  A muffled ring came from Adriana’s purse, and she pulled out her iPhone. “Hello?” A pause. “We’ll be out in a bit.”

  We walked outside to the waiting limo. It wasn’t one of those embarrassingly long things, but inside it was plush, and the ride was smooth and quiet.

  “This is it,” I told the driver when we reached town. He pulled into a parking space and opened the back door for us.

  “They might have clothes.” I pointed at a store called Sarah’s Boutique.

  “We’ll try there first, then.” As we stepped inside, Adriana glanced around the dark, dingy shop with disdain. “What is all this pilgrim crap?” she muttered, luckily not loud enough for the ancient woman behind the counter to hear.

  The gift shop was filled with folksy old-fashioned items. Hanging on the walls were blue and white tiles depicting ships at sea and framed squares of needlepoint with quaint sayings and intricately embroidered flowers. At the back of the narrow shop stood an antique dresser, the drawers pulled out to showcase the clothing inside.

  Adriana was already picking through it, holding stuff up in disgust and putting it back. Everything was so conservative that it bordered on Amish: ankle-length, high-necked dresses; white blouses with peter pan collars; and polyester floral print jumpers. As rude as Adriana was being, I had to admit I almost gagged at the sight of the jumpers. Thankfully, the old lady was oblivious to our derision and offered us a friendly wave as we stepped back outside.

  “Hulghhh.” Adriana shuddered. “I’ve seen some scary stuff in my lifetime, including my fifty-year-old uncle in stretchy bike shorts, but that”—she pointed at the offending store—“was truly horrific.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing.” Adriana’s death glare prompted me to explain my logic. “You know, get the worst over with. Nothing can be as bad as that, et cetera.”

  “God, I hope nothing else is as bad as that, or I might have a nervous breakdown.”

  “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?” As I linked my arm through Adriana’s, I noticed my silver Tiffany’s ID bracelet was missing.

  Alarm rose up in me like a wave. The bracelet had originally been Athena’s, and I had always thought it was beautiful. She wore it every day for a year, but then a few weeks before her accident, she’d told me that she was tired of it and I could have it if I wanted. The bracelet was engraved with the infinity symbol, and I’d worn it almost every day since. It reminded me of Athena—that a part of her was always with me.

  “My bracelet must have fallen off inside. I need to find it.”

  “Go right ahead; I’ll be out here trying to recover from the polyester attack.”

  As I searched through the store, I heard a strange, erratic thumping behind me. I turned. The haggard old lady was making her way over to me.

  Her pace was halting, and the sound of her cane striking the floor was oddly menacing. I stood frozen to the spot, unable to look away. One of the woman’s legs was shriveled and dragging behind her. Trying not to stare at it, I focused on the woman’s skeletal face. When my eyes met hers, her mouth fell open, and she covered it with a weathered hand.

  “Rebekah!” she breathed in awe.

  “What?”

  “You’re Rebekah Sampson,” she told me.

  “No.” I turned back to the dresser and started going through the next drawer more quickly. The name seemed familiar somehow and the look in the woman’s eyes was inexplicably frightening to me.

  “Don’t you remember me? It’s Sarah.”

  “I’m not Rebekah.” My fingers hit metal, and with a sigh of relief, I pulled out my bracelet. I needed to get out of there.

  “But you are the spitting image of …” Sarah trailed off. “I’m sorry. I must be getting confused in my old age.”

  But her eyes were bright and sharp as they bored into me. This had been no mistake. Her age-spot-riddled hand was wrapped so tightly around her cane that it made her thick veins press up against her paper-thin skin. It looked like blue worms were trying to wriggle their way out of her body.

  “I’m sorry …” I took a step away from her. “I’ve got to go.”

  Sarah’s intense stare burned against my back as I hurried to the front door. My throat was closing up, making it hard for me to breathe. I felt like I was choking on the scent of death. I swayed—woozy—and held on to the doorknob to steady myself. I had just remembered why the name was so familiar.

  Rebekah Sampson. It had been on the gravestone in my dream.

  Chapter Five

  Once I was outside, my throat released, and I took a deep breath. Why had she called me by that name? It must be some kind of coincidence.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Sarah knew something about me … maybe something I didn’t even know about myself.

  “Took you long enough.” Adriana walked over to me. “Did you find it?”

  I tried to hide my spooked expression.

  “The latch is broken again. Hopefully this time I can get it fixed so that it works for longer than a few months.” I held up the bracelet for her to see.

  If Adriana had noticed anything weird about the way I was acting, I certainly couldn’t tell.

  Hanging out with someone so self-centered had its advantages.

  “Where to now?” I asked.

  “That place looks promising.” She gestured at a door with the word flirt emblazoned on it.

  A lime-green retro fan circulated air from its perch on the front desk. The girl behind it had her feet propped up and was reading ReadyMade magazine.

  “Hey,” she remarked, barely lifting her eyes from the page.

  Her hair was the same purple as her plastic-framed glasses, and a small silver stud next to her mouth stood in for a beauty mark.

  “Rude much?” Adriana mouthed. I shrugged. It didn’t seem that weird to me—who would be excited to be at work on a Sunday?

  “Nice clothes, though.” I pointed at the racks of trendy boutique labels.

  “It’s okay, I guess.” Adriana gave me a blasé look and checked her cell phone.

  It was then that I saw it: an amazing raw silk pencil skirt. Thi
s was not above-average mall clothing—this was designer.

  “Aha!” I held it up, triumphant. Plucking the skirt out of my hands, Adriana checked the label, then headed straight back to the dressing rooms.

  I wanted to try on that skirt. I frowned. That was why Adriana was being nonchalant about the clothes. She was using me as her truffle-hunting pig … or some other metaphor that portrays me more kindly.

  “Well, you walked right into that one,” I muttered.

  “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” an attractive brunette woman asked me.

  “Oh, no. I’m only chastising myself for giving away a gorgeous skirt.”

  “You know”—the woman leaned into me conspiratorially—“I think I have just the thing to make you feel better. I’ll go get it.”

  A moment later she came back holding an incredible ivory silk dress. She was visibly pleased by my awed reaction. “I know it’s lavish, but it would be perfect for the back-to-school dance.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The first formal of the year—you’re from Devenish, right?” the woman asked.

  “Actually, L.A. But I’m starting school there this year.”

  “Another big-city transplant. My daughter Camilla and I are from New York City.” The woman pointed to the girl behind the desk. They had the same heart-shaped face and dark eyes.

  “We’re from Brooklyn, not New York,” the girl corrected her loudly.

  “Children always know best, don’t they?” The woman laughed. “It was actually Camilla who made me want to open this place. We came through town, and I noticed there wasn’t much shopping.”

  That was putting it kindly.

  “And Camilla said it was strange that they didn’t have a cool boutique, what with a school full of teenage girls so near.”

  “Actually,” Camilla smirked, “I said it was weird that there wasn’t some corporate store with clothing that costs more than some people in Africa make in a year, when there’s a school full of rich princesses down the street.”

  “Camilla …” There was a sharp note of warning in that single word. The woman turned back to me. “Obviously not the head of our customer service department.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m Anne, by the way.” She stuck out her hand.

  “Persephone,” I replied, shaking it. “And, just a tip, you probably shouldn’t make her head of advertising either.”

  Anne laughed. “Do you want to try it on?” She held the dress out to me.

  An hour later Adriana and I left the store with our purchases and promised to return soon.

  “Is it cool if we go by that bookshop before we head back?”

  “I doubt there’s anything better to do in this town.” Adriana shrugged.

  I took this as a yes and went into the simply named Book Stop. After a few seconds of trying to appear interested in a book, Adriana turned to me.

  “So … you and Graham?” She raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on her face.

  “Me and Graham what?”

  “You know … are you two a ‘thing’?” She did little air quotes.

  “No.” I shook my head. “We’ve only known each other a day. Plus, he has some girlfriend in Boston.”

  Adriana, who had been strolling down the fiction aisle in front of me, suddenly stopped in her tracks.

  “Hummpphff.” I ran straight into her back. “What the hel—”

  Adriana cut me off midsentence, laying her manicured hand on my forearm. “Don’t look now, but I think the sexiest guy I have ever seen in my whole entire life works here.”

  Of course, I automatically looked up just as she had said not to. “Oh, my God.” I gazed at the tall, now-familiar form. “Him again.”

  Adriana’s expression was so astonished I wondered if she, too, had prophetic dreams about handsome strangers. “Him who?” she breathed, apparently unable to tear her eyes away.

  “His name is Zach. It seems like he’s everywhere I go,” I whispered, glancing around quickly, trying to spot his hateful sister lurking somewhere nearby. Luckily, she seemed to be absent.

  Zach looked up, his light, sea-green eyes locking onto mine. A shiver ran through my whole body. I didn’t know how, but I was certain that he had heard me—from fifty feet away. Zach pushed his shaggy black hair out of his eyes as he watched us intently.

  “He is looking straight at you,” Adriana hissed. “What is the deal? Do you have the entire hot-guy market cornered already? I mean, come on … leave some of the cute ones for the rest of us.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Besides, if you pick up a guy while you’re wearing my dress, he automatically reverts back to me.”

  “I am not picking up any guys,” I said as quietly as my frustration would allow. I had to find a way to get Adriana off this subject. From the sly smile on Zach’s face, it appeared he was catching every word. What is with this guy’s hearing? Is he part German shepherd?

  “Seriously, he is way too gorgeous to be with one girl. A guy like that needs to share the wealth.” Adriana looked Zach up and down appreciatively. “You just know a guy that tall and well built has got a lot to share.”

  Zach’s skin was turning red, and he quickly moved over to the nonfiction side of the store. So he could stand there and eavesdrop on us, but the second he’s scrutinized, he runs away? Uh-uh.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Adriana’s hand, following him.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I’m introducing you.” I marched us over to the end of the aisle, where Zach was pricing a biography of Nancy Reagan.

  “Hi, Zach.” My tone was brighter than the yellow dress I was wearing.

  “Hey, Persephone.” Zach rubbed the back of his neck in a show of discomfort.

  “This is Adriana.” I gave her a little push forward, and they awkwardly shook hands. “She’s also new to Devenish this year.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s interesting.” His expression made it obvious that he wasn’t interested in anything except figuring out a way to escape.

  “I hear there’s a school dance coming up,” I commented. “What’s the deal with it? Do the guys ask the girls, or is it a Sadie Hawkins, women’s lib-type thing?”

  “Um.” Zach was gripping the pricing gun so tight that the knuckles on his hand turned white.

  “Or do people arrive solo and then pair off at the end of the night to go hook up?” I continued. “’Cause that would leave Adriana and me at a real disadvantage, being that we’re new and don’t know anyone yet.”

  “I’m sure you two will do fine.” Zach laid the pricing gun down on top of a stack of books and looked to his left, where the front counter was being run by a man in his mid-thirties. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I think my dad needs my help.”

  I glanced over. He seemed to be in complete control of the hardly bustling store. I laid a hand on Zach’s forearm to prevent him from leaving, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. My heart flipped over in my chest, and I quickly pulled my hand back.

  Adriana looked from me to Zach and back again.

  “I’m going outside to have a cigarette.” She rolled her eyes at me before leaving.

  “So y-you work here?” I almost stuttered, trying to get the words out. That was not just a normal static electricity shock.

  “Yeah. My dad owns the place.” Zach’s gaze lingered on the stack of books next to him, and I noticed a barely visible twitch in one of his eyebrows.

  I almost gasped when I saw what he was staring at. The plastic arm of the pricing gun he had been holding had melted so that every fingerprint, every wrinkle in Zach’s palm was seared into it. Like the handle was made of molding clay instead of hard plastic.

  This was all getting too weird. My iPod miraculously charging when Zach touched it. The electric shock I received from both him and Corinne. The strange effect the two of them had on metal. And now Zach’s hand melting plastic like it had been set down on a hot plate.

  “What the hell?” I stared at the finger indentions i
n the handle. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Zach stuck his hands in his jeans pockets.

  “What do you mean, do what? You melted this pricing thing-amajig.” I picked it up and shook it at him.

  “They look like that. It’s a handgrip.” He pulled the offending object from my grasp.

  “So it perfectly matches your fingerprints? And what about metal? You were attracting it like a magnet at the grocery store the other day.” I took a step closer to him.

  “Um …” Zach tapped his foot nervously, which made him look even more adorable. “I was wearing my belt with the car-seat buckle. It must be magnetized.”

  “Uh-huh.” I raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “So why do I keep seeing you everywhere?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re stalking me? This is my father’s store, you know,” Zach challenged.

  “Yeah, but you’re the one who followed me into the graveyard.”

  “How could I not after I saw you back there in your dirty, torn uniform? I thought you might be hurt.” Zach’s eyes widened, and there was a moment of dead silence. “I mean, it was weird when I saw you disappear into the trees.”

  “I wasn’t wearing my uniform then.” I tried to hide my shock. I’d been wearing a torn and dirty uniform in my dream. But Zach couldn’t possibly know that … unless he’d had the same dream.

  “I have to take these to my dad.” Zach grabbed a stack of books and headed over to the front desk. I followed, hot on his heels.

  “Phe?” Adriana was walking over to us, giving me a quizzical look.

  “Here you go.” Zach deposited the books in front of his dad and quickly shoved the pricing gun in a drawer.

  “So I guess you’re done with our conversation?” I folded my arms across my chest and raised my eyebrows. I didn’t want to ask about the dream straight out, at least not when there were witnesses.

  “Phe? What is wrong with you?” Adriana hissed in my ear.

  “Nothing, I was only asking Zach a few questions.”

  “And I’m pretty sure I answered them.” Zach’s tone was a bit louder than necessary. His dad finally looked up from the papers in front of him. He looked much younger than my father, with just the slightest hint of gray in his black hair. He must have been college age when they had Corinne.