by Kim Chance
My stomach did a somersault, and my feet were already moving by the time my brain decided to catch up. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey!”
The boys at the end of the alley all turned to look at me, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. “Shit,” I said. Now what, Styles?
It was just enough of a diversion, though, and the boy in gray took advantage of it, throwing his body weight backward and slamming his captors into the brick wall behind them. The blond boy lunged forward, swiping the piece of metal through the air, but his arm was easily deflected by the boy in gray. The two began to grapple, the silver of the pipe slicing through the air.
“Shit!” I said again. I took a step forward, though I had no idea what I planned to do.
Half my mind was already supplying me with visions of the murder I was surely about to witness, and the other half was screaming at me to stop staring like an idiot and call the cops.
I had one foot poised to take another step when the back door to Auntie Marmalade’s opened and Auntie Marmalade herself came pouring out yelling like a banshee and swinging her rolling pin as if it were a baseball bat.
The three boys, the leader with the pipe and his two minions, scattered like ants, running in all directions. Two of the male servers who worked for Auntie Marmalade—they looked more like bouncers, really—took off after them.
The boy in gray, however, was standing still amid the chaos staring right at me. He took a step forward and when his face hit a patch of sunlight, I let out small gasp. I recognized him.
The boy in gray was Ty, the guy I had met two nights ago at the comic book shop.
I stood there staring at him, not knowing whether I should wave like we were old pals or pretend I didn’t have a clue who he was. He was taller than I remembered, and I couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and the way his tangled, almost too-long black hair was sticking to his forehead and curling around his ears and the nape of his neck.
He didn’t break my gaze, but one corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin. The smile lasted only a second and was replaced with a furrowed brow, but it still made my heart do a little jig.
With a small inclination of his head, the boy walked right past Auntie Marmalade, still brandishing her rolling pin, and stalked over to the fence at the end of the alley. Without a single look back, he hopped over the chain link and headed toward the opposite road.
I blinked
What just happened? Why did Auntie Marmalade let him pass? Did she know him?
“Are you all right, ma’am?” One of the servers was standing at my elbow looking concerned.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He nodded at me and walked over to Auntie Marmalade. “They were too fast; we couldn’t catch them. One ran down Main, the other two hopped in a car a few blocks away.”
Auntie Marmalade grunted and murmured something along the lines of “stupid punks” under her breath.
“What about the other guy?” I piped up.
The server looked confused. “The other one?”
“Yeah, the one in the gray shirt.” The server gave me a long, blank stare. “You know,” I continued. “Gray t-shirt? Black hair? Tall with broad shoulders, a crooked yet mildly seductive smile that kinda makes you feel like a popsicle on the fourth of July?” I stopped myself. Geez, Styles. Word vomit, much? “Ignore that last part.” I indicated the server. “He walked right past you.”
The server was staring at me like I had sprouted a second head. Auntie Marmalade, who was cradling her rolling pin to her chest like a baby, offered me a sympathetic smile. “You poor dear. You must be in shock. Come inside and I’ll make you up a plate of nice, hot fritters.”
“Oh, no, thank you, ma’am. I’m fine, really.” I thought about how Ty had walked so casually past Auntie Marmalade, as if she couldn’t even see him at all, and hopped the fence.
“As if she couldn’t even see him,” I muttered, under my breath.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head.
The servers followed Auntie Marmalade back into the restaurant, and I was left alone in the alley feeling very much like I had entered the Twilight Zone.
On the ground by the wall, a lump of material was lying in the dirt. It was Ty’s leather jacket. “Okay,” I said, picking it up. “So I’m not completely crazy. He was here.” I wiped the dirt off the jacket and, feeling slightly ridiculous, folded it over my arm and continued toward the library.
The sidewalk was more tightly packed with people now. I weaved in and out of the foot traffic, trying to make sense of all the mayhem that whirled around inside my head. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts, I didn’t notice when the man in front of me came to a complete stop.
Like an idiot, I slammed into his back and fell backward onto the pavement. The man whirled around and gave me a dirty look.
“Sorry!” I squeaked, trying to appear demure.
He harrumphed at me and kept walking. The palms of my hands were slightly skinned from where I had landed on them, and my elbow was throbbing. “Ow,” I groaned, rubbing the spot gently. I stood up, assessing myself for more damage, and wiped the dirt off my jeans.
When I straightened, Ty was standing in front of me, an amused expression in his eyes. The bruise on his cheek, the one I had noticed at the comic book shop, had faded to a greenish-yellow color, but a new one was forming around his left eye.
I started a little. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see you wipe out on your ass.”
“I didn’t wipe out,” I said, matter-of-factly. “I was testing the sidewalk for durability. You’ll be happy to know that this particular patch of concrete is in fact safe for pedestrians.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re welcome.”
He let out a deep chuckle, and my cheeks warmed at the sound of it. I wasn’t sure if he recognized me from the comic book store or not, and despite my initial emboldened response I had absolutely no idea what to say next. Should I ask him about the fight?
“Well, now that I know the sidewalks are passable, I better get going. See you around.”
He waved, then turned and starting walking toward the street.
I stared at his retreating back.
“Wait!” I called out. “Wait! So that’s it?”
He turned around to face me, walking backward. His face was lit with a grin. “Were you expecting something else?”
“Well, you could at least give me a high five or something. I saved your life, after all.” And I wouldn’t mind knowing how you managed to go all Harry Potter with an invisibility cloak back there.
Ty stopped, his features suddenly highlighted by a patch of fading sunlight. “You saved my life?”
“That guy had a weapon,” I replied matter-of-factly, pushing back my shoulders. “He could’ve killed you.” At this point, I wasn’t sure the other boys actually had a real chance of killing this mysterious boy in front of me, but the fact remained that without my brilliant—okay, slightly stupid—interference, the fight could’ve ended differently.
Ty walked toward me, each step slow and methodical, his face bright with amusement. “Trust me, he couldn’t have killed me.”
I rolled my eyes, though I had to admit I was the tiniest bit impressed by how certain he seemed of his abilities in the fight. “You’re kinda cocky, aren’t you?”
“Not at all,” he said, without a single ounce of arrogance in his voice, as if he were stating a fact. “And why don’t we just call it even. Had any more troubles with Thor lately?”
“So you do recognize me!”
“Of course . . . babe.”
I had no control over the stupid smile that crossed my face. “We’re even.”
“All the same, thank you, Lainey. It’s not every day such a pretty girl saves my life.” He
winked at me.
He remembers my name! My stupid smile got even bigger.
“Oh!” I turned around and walked back the few paces to where I’d fallen and scooped up his leather jacket from where I had dropped it. When I turned back to face Ty, though, he was already rounding the next corner out of sight.
“Wait!” I called after him. “I have your jacket!” But he was already gone.
“Geez, Styles! Where have you been? I’ve been blowing up your phone for the last fifteen minutes. I was getting ready to send a search party.”
I held my hand up and tried to catch my breath. After Ty had disappeared, I ran the rest of the way to the library.
“I’m so sorry, Mags. I got . . . distracted.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Distracted?”
“Yeah, on the way over here there was this fight and that guy from—”
“A guy, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. How very like Maggie to completely skip over all the other details and go straight to the “guy.”
“It wasn’t like that, okay. It was . . . interesting.”
“Oh-kay.” Maggie stared at me, but decided to move on. “Any news on the ghost front?”
My face fell. The fight had been a welcome distraction.
“Actually, yeah.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the photograph of my mom. “See the necklace in the picture?”
Maggie nodded.
“The woman I’ve been seeing is wearing the exact same one. I saw it when she appeared the first time and then again today.”
“You saw her again?”
I hesitated. The voice in my head urged me to deny it, but instead I nodded my head. “On the sidewalk. I was heading here. And I saw . . . something else too. Flashes. Tidbits of . . . memory or something. I could smell smoke.”
“Weird,” Maggie said, staring at me with wide eyes. She took the picture from my hand and stared at it. “Any idea what this means?”
I bit down hard on my lower lip. I had an idea, but I didn’t want to say it out loud, and the words were like peanut butter sitting on my tongue. “I think she and my mom are connected somehow.”
“Holy crapkittens, Styles. That’s . . . that’s just crazy.”
“Tell me about it.”
I must have look panicked or wounded in some way because Maggie leaned over and gave me a quick hug. “Look, no matter what, I’ve got your back. We’ll figure all this out together, okay? I promise.”
“No offense, Mags, but I don’t think that’s a promise you can keep.”
“Well, I’m gonna try.”
I’d always admired Maggie’s determination—even if it was fueled by mule-headed stubbornness. In this case, I was grateful for it. I took a deep breath. “So what now?”
Maggie looped her arm through mine and steered me toward the double doors of the library. “We’ll just have to April O’Neal this thing until we find the answers.”
“Just like that, huh?”
She grinned. “Yup. Just like that.”
“You’re something else, Mags.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m totally crazy?”
“Well . . .” I smiled.
Maggie shook her head at me. “Oh, Styles. If I ask you to hop on a Nozgul and fly into the fiery depths of Mordor with me, then you can call me crazy. But for now, let’s just go with cheerfully optimistic.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Fair enough.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I slammed the door shut behind me. The door frame
rattled, and the picture of me holding a hot pink fishing pole and small catfish from the line fell off the wall. The glass shattered into pieces against the hardwood floor. “Perfect,” I muttered, massaging my temples. “That’s just freaking perfect.”
As I bent and began picking the shards of glass off the floor, I couldn’t help but notice the irony of the situation. The library had been a complete bust. Maggie and I hadn’t found anything remotely helpful, and I had driven home with a knot in my stomach that grew bigger with each passing mile. Just like the glass, the shred of hope I had been clinging to—the one that told me we would find some kind of logical answer—was broken. I was out of ideas, out of clues, and very likely out of my own damn mind.
A small sliver of glass sliced through the pad of my fingertip, and I hissed as a thick droplet of blood rolled down my finger. I was still holding a small pile of glass pieces in my other hand, so I glanced around for something to stanch the blood.
“Here.” Gareth walked over and knelt beside me, a box of tissues in his hand.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping the tissue around my finger. “Sorry about the picture.”
Gareth shrugged. “Frames can be replaced.” He narrowed his eyes, looking closely at my face. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Gareth, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Should I tell him? What if he thinks I’m completely nuts? I took a deep breath. “Do you believe in fate? I mean . . . do things happen for a reason, or is everything just some cosmic hodgepodge of random, unrelated events?” The words came pouring out. I studied Gareth’s face for a reaction, but he didn’t seem surprised or confused by the question.
“I think we all have a path we’re destined to follow. The people we meet, the places we go, the things we experience . . . Nothing is by chance.” He paused. “However, whether or not we choose to follow that path is another matter entirely.”
“What do you mean?”
“A person’s destiny isn’t a concrete certainty. There are people who live their entire lives and never fulfill their true purpose. Free will and choice, you see, are powerful tools of alteration. A simple choice can change everything.”
“So, when crazy things happen,” I questioned, “it’s up to the person to choose how they want to react . . . and that choice ultimately determines their future, right?”
“Exactly.” Gareth smiled at me. “If a man were told he might die on an airplane, then he could choose not to travel by air or take his chances. Either choice would drastically alter his future. Thus, the powerful nature of free will.”
I nodded, relief welling up inside of me. It was a comforting thought, though I still had a nagging feeling. “But what if free will isn’t part of the equation?”
Gareth raised his eyebrows.
“I mean,” I continued, “what if something happened that you had no control over—something that made no sense. Something even free will couldn’t stop?”
A strange look passed over Gareth’s face. Confusion, maybe? “Well, there are, of course, some very powerful forces at work in the universe . . .” He trailed off. “Are you sure everything’s okay? Did something happen with the test? When you called, I thought you said you did well.”
“No, the test was fine. Just have a lot on my mind, I guess.” I swallowed. “The future and all that.” The lie came naturally. Real brave, Lainey. Real brave.
Gareth’s face relaxed, and understanding washed over his features. “I keep telling you, kid, you have nothing to worry about. And you’ve got time, you know. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
I snorted. “Don’t you know me? I’ve had my life mapped out since I was old enough to make my first to-do list.”
“That may be so,” Gareth said with a chuckle, squeezing my shoulder. “But your future is far from decided.”
“That’s what terrifies me.”
“Just remember: you can’t control what happens to you, but you can control how you react to it. Those choices are what will determine your destiny.”
“Gee, thanks, Yoda,” I joked, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Simple it is,” Gareth said, imitating Yoda’s gravelly voice. “Trust me, you sh
ould.”
I laughed and let him pull me in for a hug.
“Now, what do you say we get this glass cleaned up and order a pizza? Serena is on her way over and we can watch terrible movies and eat greasy carbs together.”
“I like the way you think.” I grinned. The knot in my stomach was still there, but the weight of it didn’t seem quite as heavy.
I stood up, unzipping the jacket I hadn’t yet removed. “I’ll go get the broom. Is the dustpan still in the pantry?”
I looked at Gareth. His shoulders were tense, and I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. He was staring at the handprint—now faded, but still visible—on my arm.
“Lainey—” he began.
“It’s nothing,” I squeaked. “Maggie and I were messing around. You know how she gets.” I forced out a dry laugh. More lies. “Serves me right for having an easily excited best friend.”
“Maggie did that?”
“Oh, yeah. Something about a new Avengers movie. She saw the trailer and freaked out.” I sounded so sure I almost convinced myself. “So, the dustpan?”
Gareth stared for a moment before finally swallowing. “On the bottom shelf in the pantry.”
“Right.” I shuffled toward the kitchen. I pulled the broom and dustpan from their respective places and also grabbed a clean sweatshirt from the basket on the laundry machine. I threw it over my head, making sure the handprint was no longer visible.
I’ll tell him the truth when I know what’s going on, I promised, hoping to placate the guilt stirred up by all the lies. I will tell him.
I let out a long breath and walked back into the hallway, a forced smile plastered on my face. “So the real question is,” I said, “cheese or pepperoni?”