Ladybird, Ladybird . . .

by Abra Ebner

  “Gotcha.”

  I didn’t care about his hand around my buckle or the overwhelming wetness of the situation; all I cared about was the texture below my feet. “Gross!” I whined and shivered, looking down at my feet in the murky water. The level was well above my knees. “This is hardly fair. I’m shorter.”

  Leith didn’t indulge my whining; he only smiled. His hand remained firmly latched to my belt as though it had become an extension of his arm. I felt his breath on my face, sweet like the wheat in late summer. When I looked at him, he smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth. His face was hiding something, a secret that made me shiver.

  I narrowed my eyes, only to be distracted from my thoughts by the touch of his free hand on my shoulder. A normal touch would not have drawn such a reaction from me, but the way he allowed it to trail down my arm in measured increments made the touch mean so much more.

  We were so close that there was little else I could do but look at his eyes. I was afraid of his direct, piercing gaze. His brown irises were flecked with gold. I was close enough to see my own reflection in them and was frightened again by the secret he held.

  In my discomfort, I looked down between us, surprised to see that the fish had returned. Though I tried to quell it, my body heat was rising, the water around me surely warming to the delight of the fish.

  Looking at his hand clasped firmly around my belt, I couldn’t help but feel the protective nature of it. His white knuckles showed how strong his grip was. Following my gaze, Leith slowly released his hand from my belt. I started to step back, but he pulled me against him and rested his hand on my lower back, his other hand also finding its way. He’d taken away the only other option I had not to look him in the eye. My gaze was forced back to his.

  In my fear, I quickly thought of something to say as a distraction. “Do you hunt much?”

  Leith’s fingers pressed into the skin on either side of my spine, swaying me gently. He smirked, knowing what I was doing. “Some.”

  I swallowed. “Um . . .”

  Leith was grasping the loose fabric of my shirt in his hands.

  “Deer? Elk?” I choked out.

  He leaned close, his nose pushing my hair away as his head came to rest in the crook of my neck. The bill of his hat ducked behind my shoulder, touching the skin on my back ever so gently. “Both.”

  I swallowed and shut my eyes, ignoring the sensation of his breath against my sweltering skin. “Are you any good?”

  He chuckled, leaning away. “Very good.”

  I exhaled, feeling a moment’s relief as our bodies parted slightly. “What’s it like, taking a life like that?”

  I saw his jaw tighten. Once again pulling me close, his hands splayed across the small of my back. “It’s sad. I don’t like to see things die.” He pressed his lips right up against my ear. “I don’t like to see things get hurt.” His nose then trailed down the length of my bruised cheek.

  I still refused to look him in the eye as his gaze came back to center, though he was making it hard to look at much else. “Then why do you do it?”

  He sighed, grip loosening, surely growing irritated with my distractions. “You talk too much.”

  “I . . .” I smiled. “I’m just doing what you told me to do. I’m distracting you.”

  Leith chuckled loosely. “But I don’t want you to distract me anymore.”

  I shook my head, my eyes finding anything but his. “I’m not going to look at you.” My body felt like an inferno at this point.

  “That’s fine. You don’t have to.” He touched his lips to my ear, the only thing within reach with my face turned away. “This feels good enough,” he whispered.

  My whole body tensed. I wedged my hands between us as I felt the fire become overwhelming, threatening to set us both aflame. The whispering, the touching, it was all too much. I tried my best to shove him away. “How can that feel good? I’m on fire. You don’t feel that?” It was so obvious. I was much hotter than I’d ever been.

  Leith allowed me a little bit of distance, though it was still much less than it had been when he held me by my belt. “I feel you. It’s amazing.” His once gentle coaxing had changed. His arms tensed as they reached around me, pushing me in a direction I wanted to go but couldn’t allow. “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt you, Sam,” he reminded me.

  My body was growing tired of resisting.

  His coaxing ceased. “Just look at me, please. I’m not going to do anything. Okay?” he promised. “I can take a hint. You want your space.”

  I relaxed, looking up at him in time to see guilt replace anticipation. I suddenly felt as if he had taken the one thing in the world I had hoped for away from me, but wasn’t this what I was trying to do? I wanted him to slow down, didn’t I?

  I found myself sharing the shade of his red hat, and for once, I let my guard down through the guilt he’d placed on me. It was then that I realized what he was doing. He’d tricked me, knowing that if I gave in, if I looked at him in an open manner, then this situation I was in would become a situation we were in. There would be no one left wanting to resist. I lost all sanity in his gaze.

  Holding my breath, I tried to focus solely on his eyes, losing my reason to want to look away. Something inside them was screaming, but it didn’t scare me as I would have imagined. I found myself drowning in the mystery of the secret he held so close. Sadness overcame me, like a ballad of something slowly being forgotten.

  I exhaled slowly, heart beating just a little bit harder.

  “You can see me now,” he whispered, trying to smirk, though his lips shook when doing so.

  Something occurred to me. Leith, too, was nervous. In his confidence, I had forgotten that all this was as new for him as it was for me. I suddenly felt ashamed. I’d left him with the hard part of being the leader while I wallowed in shyness.

  I relaxed my tense muscles, letting myself be the Sam I’d always wanted to be. Gathering my nerve, I reached up and tipped the bill of his cap back ever so slightly. Light chased away the demons on his face. I invited him in, and it didn’t take him long to accept the invitation. He slowly inched closer, and gently his lips met mine. I didn’t know what to do, standing rigid, scared.

  He laughed a little against the kiss, his hand resting at the base of my neck. “Just settle down.” He seemed to be speaking to both of us, taming the wildness we each felt.

  I drew in a deep breath, feeling shaken. “I’m sorry. I—” My apology was cut short when his hands brought me closer and he kissed me again, this time with purpose.

  I let my fears fall away, let my hands find his back, my own back finding a comfortable arc within his. Letting him in like this, I couldn’t help but cling to him. His lips danced with mine, finding their way as life had found its way to the water below us. My temperature rose to new heights, and I began to fear that if we hadn’t been in the water, this whole situation would have turned tragic.

  He pulled back for a moment, releasing his grip on me. I felt myself sliding once more. I had lost all sense of balance, but he casually managed to grasp my belt buckle to steady me.

  Leith laughed loud, head tilted back. “You’re impossible.”

  I laughed with him, turning to find my way back to the rock, though immersing myself in the creek was beginning to seem like a good idea. Once I made it to shore, I sat and pulled my feet from the water, hugging my knees to my chest.

  Leith stood simply, watching me. “I really like you, Sam.”

  I snorted. “Yeah?” I noticed how color had lit his cheeks, flushing them in a way I had grown accustomed to seeing. It was how I burned him, but it was a good kind of burn.

  He walked forward through the water, disrupting its tranquil flow. “I feel so different when I’m around you. Things seem more alive, and hope returns to my life.” His gaze dropped, shielding his eyes from me. He held his hands before himself, fingers twining together nervously.

  I thought about Jacqueline’s theory about how we were t
he fire of life. Then I thought about my theory and how I was likely a drug to him. “I could see how that could be.”

  “But I barely know you,” he added.

  “And I you,” I agreed.

  He tilted his head up. “But we have this place, and we’ll always find our way back here.”

  I nodded, thinking about his words. “I just don’t understand.”

  His lips parted, and he moved to sit beside me on the rock. He ran a hand through my hair, pulling it into a loose knot behind my head. “Understand what?”

  “I really am cursed, Leith. But you don’t feel it.” I tried to make him understand. “Everyone feels it.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t believe what they tell you.”

  “But you’ve seen the others. You’ve seen the marks.” I gazed upon him with what I was certain to be the most desperate expression.

  “It’s just their game, Sam. They’re just trying to make you believe that you’re this cursed person. You do nothing to me but make me fall in love with you.” His gaze was constant when he said this, pressing the point. “When I touch you, I can’t describe what I feel, but it’s beautiful. I can say with certainty that it’s not a typical thing, but it’s your flourish.” He winked, referring to Jacqueline’s project with the bugs. “In no way does it react negatively with any ounce of my being.”

  “But . . .” I stopped myself. He wasn’t going to understand this, and besides, he had just admitted to loving me. It felt too soon, but I had already had the same feelings earlier. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I had found love with the Buckhead boy on Chatterley Lane, the same boy who two days ago was just a shadow to me.

  He took my hand, smoothing his fingers over and down mine. “I used to watch you, Sam. I used to think that I’d always have a broken heart if not for the chance to see your face every day. If being burned by a rumor was the only danger, it didn’t seem like danger enough. Yesterday I knew that. Seeing you here, in my world, it was my chance. I have to take chances when I can. I’ve realized this lately.”

  I bit my lip. “I guess I didn’t know you noticed me like that. As confident as you seem now, I can’t believe you couldn’t have just said something.”

  “I couldn’t.” His face grew pained. “I didn’t realize how important you would be to me. I didn’t realize all those chances that I let go. A simple hello could have changed everything.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked. I suddenly felt cheated of time I could have had with him. He could have saved me sooner.

  “Why didn’t you?” he challenged.

  It was a good reply, and in that, I had my answer. I’d always been too afraid. Everyone in my life had rejected me. What kept him from doing the same?

  He pulled my hand to his chest, and I couldn’t help but burn at the feel of it. “Certain things in my life always kept me from living the way most can. It was a mental road block, thinking that you’d be the one thing that could change all that.”

  “So what made you change now?” I knew I was reiterating the question, but he kept dancing around the answer. “What was the catalyst that took the shy, introverted, Buckhead boy and suddenly made him into the outgoing Leith I see now?”

  He shook his head, dropping my hand and standing. He knelt and retrieved his socks and shoes. “Circumstances have changed, but that doesn’t mean the reason is a good thing.” His reply was vague and choppy.

  “What do you mean? You can tell me.”

  He was beginning to look frustrated, the emotion filling his face showing he didn’t know or wasn’t willing to admit why he’d changed as he had. I’d exposed something about his secret, and I could sense his fleeting need to protect what I’d tried to unlock.

  “What’s wrong?” I pressed, ignoring the possible danger.

  He paused, eyes looking out over the creek, away from me. “My life is complicated. I don’t want to tangle you in it. You don’t need to be involved.” Looking back at me, his gaze was sharp.

  My questions had changed him, brought him full circle. He looked like a wild animal trapped in a cage, wanting nothing but to get away. He was rejecting me.

  “I should go.” It was as though he couldn’t leave fast enough.

  “So that’s it? You got the kiss you wanted and now you’re just going to leave?” I teased.

  He spun, eyes darkened under the bill. “I should go.” He turned and made his way up the hill and out of the trees at a determined pace. Axon didn’t even bother to look up, too driven by his desire for food.

  “I thought you said you’d never hurt me,” I mumbled, voice shaking. I was too broken to say it any louder. What just happened? What had I done? What had I said that was any more than he’d said to me?

  TEN

  I saddled Axon and rode home, fighting back tears. The key around my neck suddenly felt heavy. I ripped it off the string and threw it in the ditch. I’d never thrown a key away. Then again, I’d never been allowed to keep one long enough to do so.

  At home, I closed Axon in his stall and walked with a heavy heart to the house. I regretted every happy moment I allowed myself to feel for the past two days. The only thing I could think of now was Jacqueline, and I wished she were here to talk to; I wished she were my mother. Instead, when I walked in the front door, I noticed a line of beer cans already gracing the kitchen counter. I tried to shut the door quietly, but the damage had been done.

  “That you, girl?” Father slurred from in front of the television, his hearing somehow impeccable though every other function was surely compromised.

  “Yes.” I squeezed my hand around the handle of the door, fighting for strength, trying to judge his mood.

  I heard him get up from the couch. “Where you been? With that boy I saw ya with?” His voice was deep and angry, making me jump.

  “No.” He had meant David, so I wasn’t lying. David was long gone.

  “You better not be.” He stumbled into the front hall, leaning against the jamb between rooms.

  I felt myself begin to quake with adrenaline. “I’m going to bed.” Avoiding this was the best thing I could do. I made a move toward the stairs, but with speed I didn’t know he could possess in such a state, Father stepped between me and my refuge.

  “Wait a minute. No yer not.”

  My heart pounded a little harder, bones tingling.

  He stumbled as he stood without a wall to lean on. “You killed the chickens,” he began, picking a fight.

  I spoke through clenched teeth. “I didn’t kill the chickens,” I protested. My hands compressed into fists at my sides. My eyes judged the gaps I could run through to get to the stairs, wondering what kind of reaction time my father really had.

  I saw delight in his eyes at the way I had reacted. “You killed them like you killed your mother.” His voice deepened. “And now you’re gonna get yerself knocked up just like she did, too. I know it. I’m not dealing with that.”

  My blood began to boil. “You don’t want to do this,” I warned, but I could see he was enjoying the challenge, blindly thinking he could control the situation.

  Lines carved into my father’s face as he smiled sickly. His skin was weathered from the winds of many summers. “Worthless,” he spit.

  “Leave me alone,” I warned again. We’d had this type of fight before, and it didn’t end well . . . for him.

  He foolishly stepped forward and grabbed my arm. Almost immediately he yelled and let go, skin sizzling. “You’re the Devil!” he cried, reeling back and clutching his arm. He stumbled when his foot hit the bottom stair, falling backward only to catch himself on the banister. “Just like she was.”

  I knit my brows together with growing strength. I had the power in this situation, and this time he wasn’t going to hurt me. He had allowed my anger to build instead of catching me off guard as he had yesterday, but this was our dance. He was fool enough to do it time and time again.

  “I’m glad Mom is dead,” I challenged back, bitterness gatheri
ng on my tongue. “I’m glad because she doesn’t have to see this. She is someplace better than here, better because she’s away from you.”

  I could tell he wanted to rip me to pieces. He looked like a caged wolf, though his bark was stronger than his bite. If it weren’t for my curse, I’d be dead come tomorrow. Heck, I’d be dead already. But after a comment like that, a comment I had so longed to deliver, there was no denying his murderous longing.

  I gathered momentum in a burst of flames. “Things would be different if you had been a caring father. My curse is both good and evil, but you just choose to nurture the evil side,” I explained.

  He swayed, staring at me with shock in his eyes.

  “Mother talks to me for a reason. Because she loves me and hates what you’ve done to me. She nurtures the good in me.” For the first time, I was allowing myself to feel her love. Too long I had discredited myself, but this sudden realization built my potency. “If she gave a shit about you, then she’d talk to you too.”

  Father and I had long ago acknowledged what I was. In this house it was something unspoken but understood. Whatever curse I had, this curse of life and death, was real. At school it was a rumor about a pyromaniac girl with matches, except for those who had felt the fire on their bare skin. Their sanity depended on those lies, though. I stared at my father one last time before brushing past him, sending him stumbling against the banister he clung to.

  “This was never about the chickens,” I said, storming up the stairs past him and to my room where I locked myself inside.

  I fell face-first into my pillow, only to be met by the presence of something hard and cold stuffed inside. For a moment I tried to ignore it, shutting my eyes, breathing in the thick, filtered air of the pillow around me. My mother’s interjections would never cease, and I felt the strength and futility of that once more. In my ferocity, I sat up and ripped off the pillowcase, but that wasn’t enough. I dug my nails into the seams and ripped the whole thing in two, feathers flying. When the mess settled, below it all there was a key. It was my key, the key I’d thrown away . . . the key Mother insisted I keep.