Fake: Book One of the Crossroads Series

by Lori Saltis

  “Lennon,” Carl calls out from under the window.

  I step around JJ and Sway, who lay on the floor in nests made from sleeping bags and blankets. Carl scoots closer to the window and flips open his blanket. My chest tightens. I don’t want to sleep next to some random guy, but is there a choice? I take off my jacket and bundle it up for a pillow before lying down next to him.

  Carl spreads a blanket over both of us. “We take turns on the bed. Tomorrow, I’ll show you where you can buy a sleeping bag for cheap.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re lucky you found JJ. He’s got his shit together. If it weren’t for him, we’d be in the park.”

  I shift among the lumps in the sleeping bag that serves as a mattress. It’s probably better than sleeping on the threadbare carpet, but it smells like body odor.

  “Hey, Lennon,” Carl whispers, “Are you gay?”

  “No.” I stare at the ceiling.

  “Oh. I am. So is JJ.”

  “Okay.”

  “Does that bug you?”

  “No.”

  There’s a silence, long enough that I think he was asleep. Then, “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Carl sighs and rolls over. I exhale. Being gay in the Two Dragon Clan is, like, the worst. You have to either be straight or act straight, no other choice. I would’ve freaked out just now if I hadn’t grown up in San Francisco. In school, we get taught a lot about tolerance and acceptance, which I totally agree with. A lot of artists I admire are gay. It still feels pretty weird. Then I think about Head Elder. He’d freak out if he knew I was sleeping next to a gay dude. For the first time since my parents died, I smile.

  The sound of the freeway rumbles through the room. Big rig trucks make the walls vibrate. In the street below, two men start a shouting match in a language I don’t recognize. A siren wails and the men take off. In the room, other sounds begin: snoring, coughing, weeping. Loneliness burrows a hole into my gut. I’ve barely thought about my parents today, but that’s good, right? I can’t let grief get the better of me. Concentrate on survival and stay clear of the clan. I feel bad about Auntie Cat, but to hell with the rest of them.

  Even Tony?

  Tears cloud my vision. I roll over and they dribble onto my forearm. Someday, I’ll get revenge by killing his parents. And then he’ll get his revenge by killing me.

  Chapter 14

  Penny

  Piece of shit waits for me on my locker door.

  Kayla arrives and turns her combination in silence, like I’m not there. Then she glances over her shoulder before whispering to her locker, “It’s Dani. I saw her.”

  Dani.

  Okay, then.

  “Don’t tell her I told you.”

  This is why I don’t fit in. I don’t understand Bleaters at all. Telling Dani would break our pact, feeble though it may be. Don’t Bleaters have any sense of honor?

  “Okay,” I whisper without looking at her. Then, even though I don’t want to, I add, “Thanks.”

  Kayla sniffles. I glance over. Her shoulders are shaking. A tear dribbles down her acne-pitted cheek. She must be fresh from a round of Daisy Chain taunts, which makes me suspicious. “Was it really Dani?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice gets resentfully louder.

  “When did you see her do it?”

  Her voice shrinks to a whisper. “Last week.”

  Nope. No honor at all. Why should I fight her fight? I open my locker and stare at the wall of insults.

  lezbo

  ugly cunt

  die already

  Piece of shit sticks to my fingers. I can suck up so much for the sake of my family, but this is the limit. So. Done. I slam the door shut. Kayla squeaks and jumps. Like I’d waste any more energy on her. I stride away in search of bigger game.

  Dani is standing at her locker with two other Daisy Chains, all cackling about something. As I get closer, I spot a pink sticky note in Dani’s hand.

  I see red.

  My backpack, heavy with the books I didn’t put away, slides off my shoulder. I’m about to slam it into them when I spot Ms. Gagliardi unlocking her classroom door at the other end of the hall. If I do this, she’ll be the one to break up the fight. I’ll lose my only friend. Are they worth it?

  No.

  I push my way through them and stick piece of shit on Dani’s locker.

  I don’t speak or fold my arms because that would look weak and defensive. Gerry told me, in a fight, let the other person get lathered up. Dani’s mouth flaps like a fish with her outraged sputters. Her friends gape, but I can see the gleam in their eyes, eager to enjoy a show. Dani glances at them. Her arms fold. For a brief moment, she looks uncertain. Then she speaks in that nasally, Daisy Chain way. “I’m so telling on you.” She nods at her friends. “They’re my witnesses.” Satisfaction curls her lips. “You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

  “Go on, then. Do it.” I take a step so she has to back up. “I’ll go with you. And after you tell Ms. Ikeda, I’ll show her all the notes you stuck on my locker.”

  “She won’t believe you.”

  “She will when she compares our handwriting.”

  Dani blinks.

  I don’t.

  “You do that and you’ll be sorry. I’ll get you expelled.”

  I take another step. “If I’m expelled, the first person I come looking for is you.”

  Her back presses against the lockers. “I’m telling Kevin.”

  “I’m telling Kevin. I’m telling Ms. Ikeda.” I mock her nasal tone. Then I sneer. “Snitch.”

  The other girls’ eyes pop and their mouths go “O” at the taboo word.

  Dani’s face turns red and her oily eyes well up. If it were anyone else, I’d back off, but it makes my blood boil that she dishes it out, but can’t take it. I point three fingers in the sign of the pitchfork and sweep my hand so they get it’s meant for them all. “I curse the day you were born and the ground beneath your feet. May you never find peace as you walk upon this earth.”

  Their eyes go wide. One friend presses her hand to her heart. The other gasps, “Are you a witch?”

  I smile, turn and swagger away.

  My heart is still pounding in my ears when I get to English class. I want to feel elated. I gamed them and won. Instead, I’m uneasy. Gran taught me there are two kinds of Strowler curses. The ones we sell to Bleaters, which are rubbish, and the ones we use against our enemies, which are real. True curses have power, but they darken the soul. The only remedy is to bless those I’ve cursed, but I don’t want to. I want to scorch their earth the way they’ve scorched mine.

  When I get home, first thing Bridie asks is, “How was school today?”

  I haven’t told her about the notes. What’s the point? All she’ll do is sigh, shed a tear or two, and ask me to bear up for the sake of the family. I can’t tell her about the curse. She’ll go into hysterics and say this is why she took us off the Crossroads, blah, blah, blah.

  I shrug. “Same-same.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing. Kai sometimes stays after school for activities or to hang out with his friends. You don’t seem to do that.”

  I can’t even begin to say how not in the mood for this I am right now. I answer in a dead monotone, “I don’t have any friends. I don’t like the activities.”

  Her lip wobbles. “Maybe you should give it a try.”

  Maybe if you hadn’t dumped me into deep water and told me to swim to save your life. I bite back on those words to avoid her tears. Besides, I have other bones to pick with her. “Right. Look. Kai started middle school with the rest of his class. It’s new for all of them. I started high school as a sophomore with people who already know each other.”

  “I can see how that might make things a little harder…”

  “You don’t. See. Shite.”

  Her eyes storm over. At least that brought out some fight in he
r instead of Miss Pity Poor Me. “Don’t talk that way to me, madam. Another word and you’ll be spending the evening here instead of the Auld Sod.”

  “Good. I don’t want to dance for that chav.”

  “Don’t call him that. It’s insulting.”

  “You’re right. I apologize to all the chavs everywhere.”

  I leave Bridie gawping and head upstairs. I’m so sick of it. We’re not on the Crossroads, but we’re still supposed to respect Kingfisher. Please. Done. I slam my door shut and take a deep breath. What’s wrong with me? Why am I getting worked up over a load of bollocks? I can feel Gerry and Matthew’s eyes on me from across the room.

  Be kind to our Bridie, they whisper.

  I glare at them. What about your Penny? Don’t I count, too?

  You’re stronger than her.

  No. She’s the mother. She’s supposed to be the strong one, but she’s not and I know it. Why all this anger? Is it the curse? I hurry over to the mirror and examine my face. I don’t look any different than this morning. Maybe it takes a while before the darkening of my soul begins. Or maybe it’s a load of bollocks and I’m a gom for believing a word of it.

  I knuckle down to my homework, ignoring Bridie’s call to dinner. A little later, she opens my door without knocking and sets a plate on my desk. “Eat.”

  I don’t look at her or the food. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then you’ll be dancing on an empty stomach because you’re coming with me and your brother, whether you like it or not.” She gives a firm nod before leaving the room.

  I glance at the plate. Cottage Pie. My favorite. I want to ignore this peace offering, but the aroma of those creamy mashed potatoes covering beef and vegetables sautéed with tasty gravy makes my mouth water. Maybe just a few bites. She’s right. I don’t want to dance on an empty stomach. Besides, I like it when she acts like an adult instead of a damsel in distress.

  I dress without enthusiasm, wearing the same costume as last time. Bridie gives me the cold shoulder when I climb into the backseat of the car. Kai is too busy playing a game on his phone to notice. Nobody speaks until we arrive at the pub and Bridie fakes a cheerful smile as she greets the punters at the bar.

  As usual, Kingfisher is seated front and center, only this time he isn’t alone. There’s a woman beside him with sour eyes and twisted lips, as if she can’t stand the taste of her own mouth. Her red dress hangs loose on her thin shoulders and she looks gaunt despite the bright makeup penciled on her face. A teenage boy is with them. I guess he’s Kingfisher’s son with his shaved head, squinty eyes and teal Sharks’ hockey jersey. Also, he looks an arsehole. The three of them watch us set our instruments and adjust the microphones like it’s part of the show. Kai and I exchange wary glances while Bridie goes about her business as if all is right with the world.

  Kingfisher whistles.

  Her shoulders hunch. Then she pretends she didn’t hear and continues tapping the mike. “One-two, one-two.” Her voice echoes through the pub.

  Kingfisher whistles louder. “Bridie. Over here. Bring the kids.”

  Mum and I look at each other, all the tension between us dissolving. We need a united front against the Upright Man.

  “Do we got to?” whispers Kai, his face scrunching.

  “We got to.” Bridie forces a smile.

  I don’t bother looking pleasant. The role of surly, reluctant teenager suits me better. Kai puts on a middle school version of the same attitude.

  “Mr. Kingfisher, how nice to see you,” Bridie says as we stand before his table.

  “Just Kingfisher.” He points his chin at the woman. “Doreen.”

  Bridie bobs her head respectfully. “Walk in peace, Mother Bird.”

  “She ain’t the Mother Bird.”

  There’s a tense hush at this rude way of saying she’s not his wife.

  Doreen looks Bridie up and down. The tense lines in her face deepen. “So, you’re the rum piece all the crew are prattling about.”

  Bridie’s smile fades. I almost chew off my lip at this insult. Piece means a loose, available woman.

  “Shut up, Doreen.” Kingfisher nods at the boy. “My son, Mikey Boy.”

  “Walk in peace, fair lady.” Mikey Boy makes the polite words sound rude.

  “Walk in peace.” Bridie nods her head graciously. “How delightful to meet your family.”

  Kingfisher takes a swig of beer and speaks through the foam on his lips. “Doreen ain’t Mikey Boy’s ma. She died a while back. Doreen’s my convenience.”

  I stiffen. It’s rare for a Strowler man to out-and-out call a woman his mistress, though the word is worse than that, a convenience being a woman a man uses or not, at his convenience.

  Doreen’s eyes burn. “We have two daughters.”

  Kingfisher turns to his son. “Them’s her kinchin. The ewe is Penny and the whelp is Kai.”

  Mikey Boy looks me up and down like he’s examining merchandise. “She’s a rum dell.”

  A dell is a girl ready to lose her virginity. He and Kevin Anderson would make great mates. Manky bellends, the pair of them. I wish I could paste him like I did Kevin, but all I can do is look at him like he’s got B.O. He doesn’t return the compliment. He’s too busy pouring himself a pint from his dad’s pitcher.

  “Enjoy the show.” Bridie’s cheery tone is as false as her parting smile. She places her arms around Kai and me, and leads us back to the stage. I glance back. Doreen is ordering something from the waitress. Kingfisher and his son are eyeing Bridie’s arse. I want to go over and punch them.

  Bridie’s grip tightens. She whispers, “Never mind them.”

  “We should scuttle,” I whisper back.

  “We can’t, not with them sitting right there. Concentrate on the show.”

  Easier said than done. The show starts and Bridie’s timing is off. Kai and I can’t harmonize with her and sound awful. Bridie sets down her guitar, picks up her fiddle and closes her eyes as she plays. I do the same with my penny whistle and we sound a little better, though Kai’s drumming is still off. By the third song, and my first dance, we perform in harmony despite the presence of the Upright Man, his leering son and seething mort.

  As I bow to the crowd’s applause, Doreen slams down her glass after draining the contents. “It’s disgusting the way you’re looking up her skirt.”

  Kingfisher’s head turns slowly. His glare makes her shrink back in her chair. “You accusing me of looking up that little girl’s skirt?”

  “Not the ewe.” She jerks her head toward Bridie. “The doxy.”

  “Get lost, Doreen.” He empties the pitcher into Mikey Boy’s glass and thumps the table twice with his meaty palm. Moments later, a male Strowler hurries over with a full pitcher.

  Bridie’s knuckles whiten around the neck of her violin. The rest of the set proceeds at a miserable pace. Her fiddling is so off I stumble at the end of my third jig. My cheeks burn through the sympathy applause.

  Bridie comes up to me, motioning Kai to join us. She whispers, “You’ve sprained your ankle. Choose a foot.”

  I lift my right foot, touch it to the floor as if testing it and wince.

  Bridie goes back on stage and leans regretfully into the microphone. “Well, everyone, I’m afraid my daughter hurt her ankle and I’ve got to get her home. Sorry to cut things short. See you next time.”

  I limp off the dance floor to another round of sympathetic applause, though this time I feel happy rather than humiliated, since it signals the end of our ordeal.

  Kingfisher stands. The tiny stage shakes as he comes up the stairs and walks over to where Bridie is packing away her fiddle. “Join me for a drink.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t. My children.”

  “The kids can join us. I’ll buy them dinner.”

  “They’ve already supped. I need to get Penny home so I can look at that ankle.”

  “It won’t hurt her to sit for a bit.”

  “I think it will. Besides, your mort
,” Bridie nods toward Doreen, who glowers at them while tipping back her glass. “Won’t appreciate me keeping you company.”

  “I told you, Doreen’s my convenience, and she’s becoming inconvenient.”

  “That’s between you and her. I have to get home to my husband.” Bridie lifts her guitar case in one hand and her fiddle in the other. She turns to Kai. “Help your sister.”

  I put my hand on Kai’s shoulder and do my best to limp without milking it.

  Kingfisher calls after us, “It won’t last. Bleaters don’t understand our kind.”

  Inside the car, Bridie locks the doors. As we pull away from the curb, she lets out a breath. “Oh, that dreadful man! Sorry, children, but we’ll have to stash our game at the Auld Sod. We’ll wait a few weeks and find another pub.”

  I bite back on saying Kingfisher will eventually find us wherever we go. Unpleasant thoughts poke at my mind, until I finally have to speak. “Mum, have you thought about cursing Kingfisher?”

  The light from the car’s console casts shadows over Bridie’s face, making her cheeks hollow and her eyes dead. “I’ve thought about cursing a lot of people, but I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not.”

  “The darkening of the soul. Is that for real?”

  “Real enough.”

  My heart starts fluttering. “Why even have curses if they bite you in the arse like that?”

  “A curse isn’t to be cast lightly. It’s a last - not a first - resort. You’re darkening another’s road and you pay by darkening your own.”

  “But what if the other person really deserves it?”

  “You mean Kingfisher?”

  Sure, why not. “Yeah.”

  “He’d have to have a well of darkness so deep within that the curse can’t reflect back on you. I don’t know if he’s that foul. He’s not worth chancing my soul.”

  I cross my arms as a chill runs up my spine. I hate Dani and the whole Daisy Chain. I want to curse each and every one of them, but not enough to harm myself. I chew my lip before saying, “Mum…”

  I start with the notes and describe my life as the school’s toadeater. Kai slides forward and offers to thrash anyone who’s tarnished my name. His face is wound tight with outrage. It’s touching he wants to defend my honor. Bridie, on the other hand, listens with her eyes on the road and her face blank.