by Abra Ebner
“Sentences in books?” I tried to reel her back in.
She nodded. “I read a lot. Every now and then my mother says things to me in stories. I know it’s her because often it has nothing to do with what I’m reading, particularly biology books. They don’t just suddenly ask how you’re doing.”
“Your mother actually communicates with you in words?” Now I was the jealous one.
Jacqueline shrugged. “Yes. She does. To me, it was never odd because it had always happened. My father wondered why I loved books of all kinds so much. The truth was that it was worth reading just to get a simple hello. I’m jealous that your mother gives you something tangible, though. For me, the words always fade and I’m only left with the memory.”
I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. It was so irrational, and still I was jealous. “Usually the keys disappear too,” I admitted. “All except this one. There are other things she gives me, though, in a box. That’s what the keys always open. Still, it’s not like she ever says anything to me. Not like yours does.”
Jacqueline’s eyes fell away from the key. “But the point is that I gave you that ladybug for a reason.” She adjusted her weight, starting again at the beginning. “Ladybugs are receptive to whatever talent we have. The fire inside us is like the fire of life—or at least this is how I’ve come to rationalize it. Ladybugs are a symbol of both life and death—like a match that starts the fire. It both creates and destroys at the same time. We are ladybugs, Samantha. We can be a curse or a blessing.” She drew in a long, deep breath as though remembering all the things her own past had killed. “Your ladybug died, didn’t it.” It was more a statement than a question.
I dropped my gaze, turning my cheek away from her. “I dropped her.”
“And it upset you? I mean, surely it would upset anyone . . .”
I shrugged. “I was upset about a lot of things yesterday.”
Jacqueline nodded slowly. “Would you say that you were on fire when this happened?”
I thought for a moment, thinking of how my fire had begun. Leith had been the reason for it, a sweet, spicy reason, falling from the tree and into my life like a leaf. “Well, I . . .”
She didn’t let me finish. “Your fire brought her back. She is indebted to you for life—or at least this one.”
I gave up telling her the whole story and paused for a long while, trying to make sense of what she’d told me. How did my fire bring Ladybird back if for so long it only seemed to want to kill? “But why?”
Jacqueline’s face turned sad. “I believe in the moment when our mothers died, we died a little as well. I state this because I believe it to be true. We have one foot in life and one in death, whether that is the Devil’s doing or not. Ladybugs are the same.” She brought her finger to her chin in thought. “And some cats, I believe.” She waved her hand at me, as though to forget what she had said. “Anyway, I became a biologist because I wanted facts, but the celestial world does not have facts. It is what it is, and I choose to see it as a gift.”
“So the fire in me is good or bad?”
She nodded hugely. “Yes, depending on your mood. If you’re angry, it’ll do bad things. If you’re happy, it does good things.”
I wanted to tell her about Leith and how he’d been immune to the fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud. To me, our shared night was still fleeting, a moment I wanted to keep for myself. He was surely a gift from my mother, and that was what the clues were all about, along with the last key. Mother was allowing me to feel happiness around him, not fear or hate. She was allowing me to keep him.
“Tell me you have a birth mark on your back.”
I frowned. “I do.”
Jacqueline smiled. “It’s your first spot.”
I reached for the spot, just left of my lower spine. “What does that mean?” Although I had a hunch, I wanted her to say it.
“It means we’ve died before. We died when our mothers did, only to be revived by whatever magic or curses exists on a full moon . . . and whatever magic the doctors had.” She chuckled to herself.
“Do you think we’ll get more spots?”
She shrugged. “I’m not brave enough to test the theory. Getting more means dying and coming back, I assume. It doesn’t sound like an experiment I want to try to control.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I can see why that makes sense.”
Without warning, Jacqueline enveloped me in a hug. “I’m so glad I found you.”
At first I felt awkward having a teacher hug me, but she had become more than a teacher to me in the past few moments. I allowed myself to hug her back, imagining that this would be the way a mother’s hug would have felt.
She leaned back and cupped my cheek, careful to avoid the purple bruise there. “Now you know that no matter what, you’ll always have me.”
I felt like crying. All of a sudden I had two people on my side where there had been none only yesterday.
“I’ve long wanted to tell you about us, protect you, and guide you to a better understanding of your life. I apologize that I didn’t do it sooner. I guess I’ve never been able to combat my own fears and think about the horrible things that I went through at your age. It was reliving those fears by watching you that I finally realized how much easier it could have been to have someone to talk to about it. Now you have me.”
I felt like screaming with elation. “Thank you.” I knew my voice was shaky, but the lump in my throat was a good lump. I was happy. It was relief like cold water on an open wound. I wanted nothing but to share more with her. I had so much to say.
Jacqueline could surely see my anxiety in that, but she gave me a pat on the arm that halted my lips from any more discussion. “Why don’t you go ahead and go home. This was enough for you to try and digest for one day. I’ll excuse you from history. Mr. Thompson has a crush on me anyway.” She winked and leaned close. “Not that he’d want to get too close, but we’ll see.” She leaned away, a secret smile on her face, making me finally feel like a part of something.
I laughed and together we made our way back into the classroom. No one had even noticed that we’d gone. They were hunched over papers, faces twisted and annoyed with the attention required for an assignment so late in the year. I went back to my station where I retrieved my book bag and Ladybird.
Walking down the hall, I realized I had no way of getting home but to walk. On a day such as today, though, walking sounded like a good idea. I needed the time to clear my mind, calm my excitement, and harness the reality of what I was. Never in my life had I felt the way I did today, and all on its own, a true smile graced my lips.
NINE
I got home at around the same time I would have gotten home anyway, but it wasn’t fast enough now that I had a place to go. I wondered how many more steps I would have to take to get into the barn and saddle Axon and how many more minutes it would be after that until I was safe under the trees in the world I shared with Leith.
The tractor was gone from the barn. Father was gone. I fed the chickens and made sure they were all alive and kicking. To my relief, they were fine. Axon was pawing the ground before he ever saw my face, anxious to get out and go for a ride and surely anxious to dig up some more wheat.
I pulled him from his stall, and he danced with every step. “If you don’t calm down, this is going to take forever,” I pleaded.
Axon seemingly understood and cooperated by standing in one place, though his head continued to bob. Once I tightened the girth and got the bit in his mouth, I threw my leg over the saddle, and Axon galloped out of the barn.
Riding down the lane, I began to worry. What if Leith wasn’t there? Would he be as excited to see me as I was to see him, or was this trivial to him? Was his need to protect me only because of the bruise on my face, or was his story about always wanting to protect me true? Why now?
I tried to stop myself from letting the confidence of the day slip away from me. I needed to walk into this afternoon
without expectations, just as I had yesterday. If I did this for me and the simplicity of enjoying the refuge of the world under the tree, then I had no reason to be let down. Leith was a confident, truthful person, and I needed to learn to be the same. It was about time.
Reaching the trees twenty minutes later, I felt my stomach rumble with a series of nervous pangs. I stared at the haven of leaves from the outside for a moment, trying to get my nerves under control so my feelings weren’t so obvious. I dismounted, shaking the tension from my hands as I slid the reins over Axon’s head.
Taking a deep breath, I led Axon down the small hill and through the curtain of foliage into the canopied world of the creek bed. It was quiet except for the creek burbling along, making me think of the only thing that mattered right now. I was alone. Leith wasn’t here. My heart sank a little and I sighed. All hurry and hope for nothing. As I positioned Axon near the bed of sprouted wheat, I fought back disappointment, deciding that this place had meant enough to me even before I had met Leith. Besides, just because he wasn’t here right now didn’t mean he wouldn’t be later. We had not made a plan to meet.
I removed Axon’s tack and saddle and set the saddle on the low branch with a thump. When I heard a second thump of something heavy falling to the ground behind me, I jumped, heart fluttering to life. I twisted fast, hands splayed at my sides as I came face-to-face with beauty I wasn’t prepared for.
“It’s fun spying on you.” Leith’s eyes behind the bill of his hat were shadowed, his arms swaying as he stepped toward me from where he had dismounted the tree branch above.
To my surprise, Axon hadn’t even bothered to look up at Leith. I was relieved that I didn’t have to run after a bolting horse. The fluttering of my heart slowly settled, but it was a far cry from what I would consider calm. “Figures you were in the tree. I should have guessed.” I felt a buildup of every emotion Leith and I shared yesterday come to the forefront, wanting confirmation, begging for it all to be real.
He smiled smugly.
I drew in a slow, steady breath, eyes sweeping over him. Leith looked exactly as he had yesterday, with the same jeans, white T-shirt, and tattered, red hat. There was so much intrigue in the simple way he looked that my whole body pulled toward him, needing to uncover the layers I didn’t understand and unmask the darkness of his eyes. I wanted so badly to see him, the Leith that he was inside. I managed to hold myself back, realizing that throwing myself at the situation wasn’t going to make it happen any sooner.
I laughed with ease, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep them from gravitating toward him. “Been waiting long?”
He shrugged. “Depends what you consider waiting.” His head tilted. “It’s not waiting if it’s for you,” he admitted boldly.
I reeled in surprise, giggling nervously and glancing away. “I see.”
He looked back at Axon over his shoulder, seeing the slick of sweat on his chest from the gallop over. “Looks like you ran here.” His gaze came back, one brow raised in a challenge. “Feeling anxious? For what, a tree?” He leaned close to me as though to kiss my cheek, only to turn and walk toward the creek where he removed his hat and splashed a handful of water onto his face. He dunked his hat in the water and filled it. When he tilted it back onto his head, the water splashed down his back.
I watched hopelessly as water dripped from strands of his brown hair, soaking slowly into the white cotton of his shirt. I shook away the image of it, though basking in it was more what I wanted to do. I turned and walked toward the tree, thinking that my back to him was best.
“Guess what I found today,” I said over my shoulder as I walked to the tree branch.
I heard Leith stand and make his way toward me. He brushed past and sat beside my saddle, right where I had been planning to sit. He had heaved himself up with little effort. I stopped, not having the nerve to sit beside him.
“What did you find?” he asked, hands pressed against the branch, legs swinging casually. Clearly he had no trouble finding comfort in this situation, even though I did.
I pulled the key from under my shirt, swinging it on the string like a pendulum. “I found the key to this place.”
Leith’s eyes narrowed. He extended his arm toward me, and his still damp fingers beckoned me forward. “Let me see.”
I got close enough that he could hold the key. Once he had his hand on it, he was able to pull me closer until I was right between his knees. He didn’t seem to care about me at all, attention fixed on the key as he turned it over in his hands. “You tricked me,” he said accusingly. “You described a key you already owned when I asked you to describe one for this place. That’s cheating.”
I gawked. “No,” I protested. “We came up with it together. Remember? You created half of it as well. How would I already have a key for something you also created?”
He considered my rebuttal, squeezing his knees against my hips.
“I swear,” I pressed. “I found it just this morning.” I tried to free myself from his grip but found I couldn’t.
Leith looked at me speculatively. “Things like that don’t happen. It’s too perfect.” My face must have revealed my fear of being trapped because his expression changed from playful anger to guilt and his legs relaxed.
I snatched the key from his hand. “They do in my world,” I mumbled, at last able to back away from him. “You said you wanted to protect me, to keep me safe. How can you do that if you don’t know me?”
“But I want to know you. I thought that’s what we were doing yesterday, getting to know each other. You didn’t say anything about this.” He pointed at the key, now tucked safely inside my shirt again.
“I told you I collect keys. Sometimes they’re very . . . special. Like I said, I found this one this morning.” As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t quite ready to tell him the whole story. He could sense that.
“Okay. Let’s just say I believe you for the time being. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
I turned and walked to where the ashes from last night’s fire lay dead, shaking away the intoxication of his advances. I cleared my thoughts of Leith, thinking about the things Jacqueline had told me.
Ladybird had been a miracle, a result of death and revival, all because of me. I felt powerful knowing that, and I wondered then, if Leith wasn’t being repelled when he touched me, maybe the opposite was happening. What if my heat were intoxicating, like a drug, to him? What if that were the only reason he liked me? Did I care?
“How was school?” Leith broke the lull.
“Interesting.” I turned my bad cheek toward him to answer.
“Did it pose you much problem?” He was referring to the bruise.
I mashed my lips together, considering the day. “Not really. I got some pity, but . . .” I smiled. “I was really happy today. I think it confused them.”
“Seeing you smile would confuse them.”
I turned my cheek away from him and back to the ashes, thinking that I had never let them see me smile. Smiling was the thing I kept sacred. I would not allow them the pleasure of seeing me happy, but today I did. I’d given away my best-kept secret.
“I never saw you smile,” he admitted. “Not until here. Has to mean something, right?”
I twisted back to face him.
He tilted his head inquisitively, his tattered hat making his casual, easygoing ways seem more rugged. “I feel lucky to have seen it first.”
I laughed once. “Well, it’s obvious. I like it here,” I replied matter-of-factly.
He let a thought manifest before finally saying it. “Made better by me, no doubt.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Feeling boastful today?” I knelt and picked up a stick from the ground.
He shrugged. “I take advantage of what chances I have. Like I said, I’m cursed to tell the truth.”
I walked to the edge of the creek and sat on a rock, then dipped the tip of the stick in the water and traced figure eights throug
h the current. I dropped the stick and watched as the water took it downstream, bobbing over breaks in the earth and around rocks in its way. It was a turbulent tumble, not unlike the way I felt, falling in love with Leith.
My skin glistened with sweat, partly from the anxiety of the ride over and partly from the heat of the day. I untied my shoes and removed them so I could dangle my feet in the cool creek for relief. All this time, I could feel Leith watching me, feel his energy building.
“Well, I’m just cursed,” I finally mumbled in return.
Leith jumped from the branch and came down to the creek. He dropped his own shoes on the shore and waded in until the water reached his knees, about as deep as the creek got. I had watched him do the same thing last night when he had caught fish. This time, though, he just watched them.
“How can you stand to have them get that close to you?” I crinkled my nose. “They’re so slimy. It’s gross.”
I watched as the fish idly swam against the slow current. I wondered how they could find their way into such a small creek, though I knew it fed into the larger Snake River at some point. It was determination that had gotten them here, a true example of how life reacts when faced with the notion of death and the need to survive.
They swam around Leith’s legs, unconcerned by his presence, feeding off his warmth. “Come in and find out.” He once again extended a hand to me.
“I’ll get my jeans wet.” The excuse came from the hip. I didn’t care about wet jeans. I’d proven that yesterday when I’d dunked my shirt. What I did have reservations about was giving in. If I were a drug to Leith, I didn’t think indulging his cravings was necessarily a good thing.
Leith tilted his head. “It’s fabric. It’ll dry.”
He leaned farther forward until he could grab my hand. I thought he was just trying to give me a hand up, an encouraging gesture, but then he yanked me off the rock.
Water splashed up into my face as I fell forward. I yelped, pants far more soaked than they would have been if he’d just let me walk in myself, but I guessed that was his goal. Finding my footing, I attempted to stand. I slipped constantly, unable to make graceful an otherwise embarrassing situation. All the fish had scattered at this point, as I had caused too much of a disturbance. One last slip and Leith caught me by the waist, hand wrapped around my belt buckle.