Falling Under

by Gwen Hayes

  I bit my lip. Knowing I wasn’t the most beautiful girl in school didn’t change the elation I’d felt when he said I was. Haden was out of my league, I knew that. If I was going to begin the kind of games boys and girls play in high school, I should have started with a nice boy who didn’t make me feel like Little Red Riding Hood alone with the Big Bad Wolf. I wanted so badly to believe he thought I was special that I was willing to pretend I didn’t know better.

  “Nothing to say to that?”

  “I can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound stupid. I don’t have much practice with—”

  “Compliments?”

  I nodded. Compliments. Boys. Conversation. Seduction. You name it, I was inexperienced.

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  I nodded again.

  “I suppose, in the long run, that’s probably a good thing.”

  “Haden?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, Theia.” He leaned forward again, smiling at my agitation. I couldn’t help but smile back a little.

  “Does anything make you nervous?”

  He cocked his head to the side, measuring me and his answer carefully. “Not very much. Why do you ask?”

  “I suppose I just want to get some equal footing. You seem to like to keep me off balance.”

  His grin turned wolfish. “I suppose I do. It’s not a good idea for you to be too comfortable around me anyway.” He raised an eyebrow like a well-accomplished villain. “I’m not a very good person.”

  “You want me to be afraid of you?”

  He shook his head. “I want you to be smart.” His voice was so low I instinctively leaned closer.

  “Are you so very dangerous, then?”

  The distance between our faces grew shorter with each breath. “I’m not like the other boys,” he teased.

  “I’m glad,” I whispered.

  Haden sighed and his eyelids lowered, his gaze resting on my lips. “I’m serious, Theia. You’ll never be safe with me.”

  “If you are about to tell me you are a vampire that glitters in the sunshine, I will—”

  He laughed, a chuckle really, but it wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t an emotion he put on to impress me or anyone else. It encouraged me to want more of him.

  His hand traced the table near mine, and I spread my fingers out in hopes of an actual touch. He pondered our closeness very carefully, it seemed. I wished very much to know what he was thinking.

  Our moment was broken by a female voice. “Haden?”

  We sat up, and I blushed eighteen shades of red while he answered, “Hey, Brittany.”

  Disappointment and humiliation twined around my insides while looking at Brittany. She was perfect in all the ways that counted when attracting a boy. She shimmered in the right places and stayed matte in the others. Sixteen going on twenty-three on the outside, while portraying a wholesome, family-values girl on the inside. Maybe that was her outside too, though. I don’t know what she was on the inside. An enigma. She wasn’t very nice—but you never saw her being overtly ugly either.

  “My locker is stuck. Can you come help me?” She was already pulling him by the hand. The look she shot me had territorial written all over it. “We’re all going to Hootenanny’s after the game. Can you come?”

  Hootenanny’s was our small town’s answer to TGI Friday’s and the place the sneetches loved most in the world after sporting activities. Donny, Ame, and I avoided Hootenanny’s, preferring the smaller, less frequented places in town.

  “Of course I’ll help you,” he answered. “We’ll work on these later?” he asked me as he was being led away.

  “Right.”

  He walked backwards a few more steps and brought Brittany’s hand to his lips without taking his eyes off me.

  My hand tingled where he kissed her.

  And the bastard knew it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Later that afternoon, Donny reluctantly pulled her car in front of the cute bungalow Ame pointed to on the right. “I really think this is lame,” she said, complaining one more time in case either of us was unsure how she felt about this visit to the psychic.

  Amelia smoosh-hugged her across the seats. “I know you do. Thanks for coming with me anyway.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at Amelia’s barely contained excitement. She clapped her hands, the sound muted by her rainbow-print fingerless gloves that striped their way up her arm. I looked at my bland beige-on-beige outfit and pursed my lips.

  I wasn’t exactly all-in on this little adventure, but it was a distraction, and I needed one desperately. Haden had tangled my insides with his pretty compliments followed by total disregard.

  And then there were my dreams.

  We’d had a substitute in history, so we watched yet another war film. My skin felt heated the entire hour, but I didn’t dare turn to see if Haden was looking at me. After class, he disappeared into the hall before I managed to sling my bag over my shoulder.

  I was disappointed and relieved at the same time.

  Donny and Amelia were still talking in the front seat. I realized I’d been daydreaming again.

  “Don’t expect me to spend money on this scam,” Donny reminded Amelia. “And don’t tell me to have an open mind. I’m open to new experiences—just not ones that include me paying some fraud to tell me things I already know about myself.”

  “You’re the most open girl in our whole school,” Ame teased as she threw open her door and bounded out of the car.

  “I don’t think she meant that in a good way.” Donny met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “C’mon, English. If I have to go in, so do you.”

  I nodded my assent, but was much slower to exit the vehicle than Amelia, who was already halfway up the sidewalk to the door.

  She hurried back and grabbed our arms as we rounded the car. “Would you guys hurry up?”

  We made it to the front porch, our arms straining at the sockets. Ame punched the doorbell and bounced on the balls of her feet while we waited for Madame Varnie to answer.

  Since I had no expectations of what Madame Varnie looked like, I have no idea why I was so very surprised at her appearance. To say that she stunned the three of us into silence when she opened the door would be an understatement.

  I suppose the first thing that stood out was her lilac turban that matched the shapeless shift she wore. The shiny fabric formed a large beehive on her head, and in the middle of it was a glass eye the color of peacock feathers and surrounded by fake jeweled beads. It was about twenty-four inches of nonsense, but unfortunately, not the oddest thing about her.

  Madame Varnie’s face was overly made up. Too much powder, too much shadow, and too much lipstick were spackled onto a face that was distinctly neither middle-aged nor female, as the costume seemed to suggest. Instead, Madame Varnie was very clearly a younger man in drag.

  “Well, hello,” she said, in a breathy, effeminate voice.

  Amelia squinted very hard at the person in front of us. “Um. Madame Varnie, I’m Amelia. I have an appointment. I’ve brought my friends—I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course, dearie.” Madame opened the door wide and ushered us into the house.

  Amelia bounded in with no hesitation; Donny and I, however, had to silently dare each other inside with our eyes. The first room we encountered—the living room, I supposed—was filled with moving cartons in various states of packing or unpacking. I couldn’t be sure which.

  Madame led us into another area of the house through a beaded doorway. This room was considerably less transitory than the other. I had to credit Donny for yesterday’s observation; it did have a circus tent feel to it. Fabric was draped artfully across the ceiling, billowing in shades of purple and red. White lights stretched around the perimeter of the room like stars against the dark wall. In the center of it all, a small table covered in blue velvet held an iridescent crystal ball. It was nearly the size of a basketball and rested on a pewter holder.

  Donny release
d an exasperated sigh. “The only thing missing from this big top is the amazing fire-eating dog woman,” she said under her breath.

  The ambience was excessive, but it wasn’t off-putting. I rubbed her arm, reminding her to behave. We were here for Ame. She nodded, probably recalling all the times we’d accompanied her on boy-scavenging expeditions that really didn’t interest us.

  Madame Varnie sat Ame in one chair and brought another to the table. I saw another chair against the wall and helped myself. We crowded around the small table, with Ame between Donny and me and Madame across from us.

  “Miss Amelia, what type of divination are you most comfortable with? We can do tarot or the crystal ball . . . or I can just read your hand,” Madame Varnie stated in her falsetto.

  I could feel Donny grimace at her fake voice even if I couldn’t see it. The tension in the small room ratcheted up. Even if Madame was not a true psychic, she must have felt the disdain coming at her across the table.

  “Cards, maybe?” Ame answered.

  I shuddered. The images on tarot cards always frightened me. Even Amelia’s Hello Kitty deck. She tried to read our futures with them sometimes, but had to use a book to look up the meaning of each card. By the time we were half done, none of it made sense to anyone and we resorted to eating chocolate and painting our nails for the rest of the evening.

  Madame Varnie did not have a reference book. “What is most on your mind, Amelia?” Madame began shuffling the deck, the sound of it making my toes curl. I don’t know why I hated the cards so much.

  “You’re the psychic,” Donny blurted out. “You tell us what’s on her mind.”

  “Donny!” Ame shouted. “You’re being rude.”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t buy this. Mrs. Doubtfire here is going to ask you leading questions and then you’ll be so impressed when he comes up with profound insights into your character.”

  I was embarrassed for Ame. This was important to her, but Donny was a raging guard dog when it came to protecting us. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for us, and I couldn’t count the times I’d relied on her saying the things I just couldn’t work up the courage to utter myself.

  Ame gasped a protest, but the psychic only smiled. “It’s all right, Amelia. Your friend only has your best interest in mind. We should all be so lucky to have someone so valiant on our side.”

  Donny crossed her arms in front of her defiantly. Madame Varnie sat back and removed the turban from his head, revealing the messy blond spikes he’d hidden beneath it. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, but it was hard to tell under the makeup.

  In his own voice, a hundred octaves lower than “Madame’s,” he spoke directly to Donny. “A lot of my clients like the show. They wouldn’t take a guy like me seriously—they need the theatrics and the entertainment value. They don’t want to know I spent the morning carving waves with my surfboard before I read their future.” He shrugged. “I’m leaving town soon anyway, so I don’t really care if you see me.”

  “Are they running you out? Lynch mob maybe?” Donny asked and then offered, “Come to think of it, I did see a sale on pitchforks at the hardware store.”

  He laughed. “No. Let’s just say the vibe in Serendipity Falls is no longer as welcoming to people who can see the truth. Plus, the waves are bigger down the coast.” He paused. “I’m the real deal. Give me your hand and I’ll prove it to you.”

  Donny stared at his hand with the same expression on her face as when Gabe tried to give her Catcher in the Rye. “I don’t think so,” she intoned.

  “You’re not being fair, Don,” Ame said, clearly upset. “Give him a chance.”

  Donny lanced Amelia with a look that promised retribution was in her future and then thrust her hand at the halfcrossed cross-dresser, palm up. “Fine.”

  Instead of looking at the lines on her palm, he turned her hand over and back a couple of times, inspecting it like he was picking out a good melon. “The girl that sits behind you cheats off your tests.”

  “That’s all you got? Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I’m not reading the girl, I’m reading you. The reason I know she cheats is because you purposely wrote down three wrong answers so she’d get them wrong, and then changed them at the last minute after the bell. Geometry, I believe.”

  Donny snatched her hand away and didn’t have a snappy comeback for once.

  Ame looked at her and then at me with wide eyes before stretching her arm across the table. “My turn, Madame Varnie.”

  He took her hand gingerly. “You can just call me Varnie, sugar, if you like. It seems a little less ridiculous under the circumstances.”

  Ame blushed. So he was a sweet-talking, cross-dressing, fortune-telling . . . surfer?

  While he inspected Ame’s hand, it struck me that no matter what we called him, it wouldn’t make this situation less ridiculous. Donny, however, was still being quiet, likely trying to work out how he’d managed to extract that information about her. I’m sure she wouldn’t allow for him to really be psychic yet. Her mind must have been churning like mad to find a plausible excuse.

  “Miss Amelia,” he began, and though his words conveyed a Southern accent, he didn’t have one. “Why didn’t you try out for that part in the play?”

  She swallowed hard. “What—what do you mean?”

  “You would have been an amazing Liesl. They would have picked you.”

  “You didn’t try out?” Donny asked her. “I thought you were going to.”

  Amelia had spent weeks constantly practicing for Sound of Music tryouts. It had gotten to the point that Donny and I had memorized all the lyrics and the scene she needed to read just from being in her presence.

  “I changed my mind.” Her voice, shrunken and small, made me sad.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The other girls who were trying out were so good. I didn’t think I had a chance. Not really. I mean, one girl looked so much like the actress in the movie, I was really surprised she didn’t get the part.” She picked imaginary fuzz off her arm warmer. “Who ever heard of a Korean Liesl?”

  Donny pulled Ame into her shoulder. “You’re such a dummy. The only one who cares about that kind of stuff is you. You nailed that song every time you sang it.”

  I glanced across the table and found Varnie staring at me strangely. I didn’t know how long he’d been doing that, but he didn’t look away after I caught him. “I think we should use the cards for you,” he said, his forehead furrowing into worried wrinkles.

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes, let’s do that.” Amelia sat up from leaning on Donny, eager to change the focus back to something metaphysical.

  “Just relax,” he told me as he shuffled. “Try to think about nothing at all.”

  That was strange. All of Amelia’s tarot books had told us to focus on a question or a problem.

  I inhaled deeply. The oxygen relieved my poor lungs, leaving me to suspect I’d been taking very shallow breaths since we’d arrived.

  He stopped shuffling, even though he hadn’t asked me to direct him to stop. The first card he placed on the velvet cloth sent a shiver through me. It was red—bloodred—with a black-cloaked figure and scythe in the middle.

  It was the death card.

  Ame reached for my hand and squeezed. “Remember, it’s a visual representation of transformation, not necessarily death.”

  I nodded, and he flipped the next card.

  It was the same as the first.

  Ame clutched my hand tighter and goose bumps invaded my skin. There should only have been one death card in the deck.

  “That’s impossible.” Varnie paled under the already white makeup still on his face.

  The hair on my arms lifted like it was trying to get as far away from me as it could. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the identical cards, though I wanted to. My fight-or-flight instinct was begging me to run away, but I was glued to the seat.

  Varnie slapped anoth
er card on the table like he was angry that his cards were betraying him. Again, the same card appeared. He recoiled.

  Donny stood up, pushing the table for leverage and it wobbled. “We’re leaving.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the cards.

  Donny tapped my shoulder. “Come on. He’s a con artist. He obviously stacked the deck to scare you into giving him more money for a reading.”

  I raised my eyes to Varnie’s. He was more scared than I was.

  “I didn’t do this,” he said. “Someone must have come in and messed with my deck. . . .”

  As his words trailed off, we realized he didn’t believe that any more than we did.

  “I need a beer.” He pushed away from the table and strode out.

  I didn’t want to be in the room with the cards, so I yanked Ame with me and got up too. Donny grabbed my other hand.

  By the time the three of us were back in his living room, he had a beer in his hand and was pacing. Varnie was full of pent-up energy. Whatever had happened in there was not good. Not good at all.

  “I’m so glad I’m leaving this godforsaken town,” he murmured to no one in particular.

  “Where are you going?” Ame sounded lost.

  “Away. Far away.” He stopped pacing and pointed his beer at me. “You might think of doing the same.”

  “Are you old enough to be drinking beer?” Ame asked.

  All three of us swiveled our heads to look at her.

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  Varnie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing his lipstick. “Sugar, we’ve got a few more important things to discuss than California liquor laws.”

  Ame crossed her arms over her chest. “That means no, you’re not. How old are you anyway? It’s hard to tell with all the . . .”

  “Maybelline?” Donny finished for her. “Ame, focus.” Donny tugged her hood on. “We’re leaving.”

  “I’m nineteen,” Varnie answered.

  Ame walked right up to him and peered into his eyes like she was looking into windows of a house. “There’s something strange about you,” she murmured.

  “Ya think?” Donny answered. “Can we go now?”