What Lies Beyond

by B. B. Palomo

  “Well, I think it’s a great idea, and honestly, if you weren’t so freaked out about it, I’d say we should try it next!” Adira had sat forward, insistence visible across her features. “Plus, it sounds like good money, and I’m not trying to call you out, but it would help you and your mom.”

  I found myself parting my lips to further defend my case, but the only thing I could muster was a sigh and quick nod.

  She was right, after all. Dad hadn’t only been Mom’s and my rock. He was the breadwinner. Until the accident, I lived a blissfully naive life about their finances. Now, I realized they’d always struggled. They just paid extra care to hide it from me. Love was supposed to be enough to stretch the ends to meet, and it was, but our glue was gone, and without him, everything started to unravel.

  “I know,” I said finally. “And you know me, I normally want to stay away from this stuff, but these are complete strangers, and I just feel like I should be there. Just in case.”

  “Did you ask?” Cora chimed in.

  I thought back to the conversation. It was pretty one-sided after her brief explanation. Before I could make a decent argument as to why it was important I should be home, she yawned and excused herself to bed as if she could see the wheels turning in my mind. “I tried to ask, but that woman is evasive.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” Noah joked while Cora nodded her head to agree.

  I exhaled loudly in annoyance, making sure they knew it was just for them and their hilarious comments. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna crash her party. She can’t throw me out then, right?”

  “Excuse me, Willow Harper, will you please keep your voice down.” Secretly, I was thankful my last name was used instead of my mother’s surname, Alden, which was often attached instead, further linking me to a past I had nothing to do with. Most of the people who lived here had roots that stretched back hundreds of years, and I found myself occasionally wondering if their ancestors watched as my grandmother burned.

  A scarecrow of a woman stepped forward, ensuring my view was filled with the hard, wolfish look of her scowl. Mrs. Vanderbelt was as tall as she was thin, with sharp features that jutted out in every direction. I squirmed in my chair, heart crawling into my throat at the authority she somehow possessed over me.

  “And you know there’s no food allowed in here.” She slammed a hand down onto the table, peering at me. Her pearl blouse was tucked into a voluminous tea skirt. I silently cursed the carpeting for not announcing her arrival as long fingers drummed against the table. I fought to find some type of response, tongue fumbling in my mouth like a fish out of water.

  The ordeal caught the attention of everyone sitting at the nearby tables. They looked up from their laptops and books, peering around to see what all the fuss was about, their eyes eventually settling on me—the psychic’s daughter. The sneering that erupted around me was louder than we’d been, but the librarian’s vision never left my face. I unintentionally gulped, my hands growing clammy to match the perspiration that beaded at my hairline from all the attention. I tried to fold into myself like a turtle, making my body as small as possible, hoping she would become bored with her dead prey.

  As much as I wished for it, she wasn’t done with me yet.

  “Just because your mother practices that—that witchcraft, does not mean you can get away with doing whatever it is you so please,” she bit out, and I shrunk farther. I could feel Noah’s eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look at him, afraid of what he would say if he saw mine start to water. Mrs. Vanderbelt’s husband sat on the town’s council. The last thing I needed was him getting into trouble and his dad losing the construction contract he had with the county for his son’s bad behavior.

  “Just because you went to her mom and found out your whore of a husband was sleeping around doesn’t give you the right to talk down to others. I’m sure you’re no saint.” Adira was on her feet, leaning her weight into the desk to jam a pointed finger at my assailant. My eyes widened when that same finger swung my way, still on the prowl. “You better sit straight up in your chair. Don’t let someone like her make you feel small.”

  Both mine and Cora’s jaws hit the ground as Noah called on every nerve he had to suppress the laugh that pulled that half-smile an inch higher. Mrs. Vanderbelt stared at Adira like she had grown two heads, her eyes wild with a mixture of embarrassment and malice. Her jaw ticked with the uncertainty of how to handle us as those harsh whispers turned from me and onto her.

  Without another word, or so much as a glance, she stormed off surely to get someone else involved. My friends and I took about four seconds to silently make our plan and decided on escape. I jammed my books into a worn backpack as everyone else scooped up their items and made a beeline for the exit. This time, none of us could suppress the giggles bubbling from our lips as we ran like children on a playground who had just pulled off the prank of the year.

  We stepped out into the browning fall weather. The susurrus breeze danced delicately across my skin as we fell into step on the concrete path. Fallen leaves skidded across the ground, being tossed everywhere and nowhere, and they searched for their final resting place. It was too early to hear their dried crunch under my feet, the moisture not fully stripped out.

  The walkway we traveled weaved through mature, colonial buildings, their once reddened stone growing a burnt orange from age. Each building came to a peak, with the main structure located in the middle fashioned with a giant clock that still chimed on the hour.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I spoke to Adira, but Cora’s head nodded frantically too.

  “She deserved it.” She stopped walking, forcing us to halt as well. “Don’t worry about it coming to bite you in the butt. Daddy just made a nice little contribution to the school, so I am sure she’ll be told to let it go.” She gave me a wink and checked her phone. “Speaking of which, I have to head out, but text me, okay!”

  Adira blew a kiss our way and turned on her heel, sashaying with confidence that only came from money and the undying support of your parents, who also happened to work for the small governmental office in town. Last I’d heard, her dad was running for mayor, and as it came to contenders, no one was overly concerned he’d lose. It didn’t take long for people to realize her importance.

  Still, the self-assured sway she carried in her hips never went to her head. Maybe the behavior was learned. Having to be on and proper to not destroy your dad’s image couldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows. She could easily opt to hang around the popular kids that ran high school and ultimately dominated our college. Still, I think a part of her enjoyed the normalcy our friendship provided.

  I know I did.

  My parents always told me things would get better after graduation, and I believed them, back then knowing in my heart I’d find myself far from this place and the reputation I inherited. I’d planned on joining a sorority, maybe even some extracurriculars activities to broaden my horizon.

  Now, stuck at the local community college, all those ambitions shriveled up like a worm I’d once forgotten on the pavement near my house as a kid. The sun beat down on the slimy creature, stealing its life due to my neglect, and it didn’t matter how hard I cried, or how sorry I felt, there were no do-overs in life. Irresponsibility had invited death to become a staple part of my life. The problem was, aside from losing the chance to reinvent myself or join some shitty sorority where their bias was focused on my looks and not my name, I always walked away.

  The people around me weren’t as lucky.

  At Adira’s departure, Cora muttered something about her next class and skipped off, clearly still worried about the encounter we just had. She threw an exaggerated wave behind her as she rushed away, leaving Noah and me to stand alone. I turned to face him, those raging ocean-filled eyes meeting mine.

  He was still clutching my lunch under one arm, but the other hung freely at his waist. Noah wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere—he never was. I was pretty sure he was only at c
ollege because of me; I never saw him with a backpack or books. Instead, he seemed to float around from class to class ill-prepared, if he even felt like attending at all.

  The part that frustrated me more than ever was that he always ended up with stellar grades, even at his apparent dismay with school. It never failed to aggravate me as I had to study for hours to make half the mark he would without cracking open a book. He joked it was all luck, but I knew better. He was one of the smartest people I knew, and I could only hope to keep up with him.

  “I’m heading out to work with my dad at the yard.” He brushed a stray piece of my auburn hair back behind my ear, which only came loose again as the wind picked up speed. When he pulled his hand forward and smiled, the calloused tips of his fingers lightly stroked the skin of my jaw. His touch lingered there, willing the moment to stretch on. “Do you need a ride back home?”

  “You mean I can’t change my mind about Mom and hide out at your place?” I chuckled but downcast my gaze to fake a pout.

  “Something tells me I would never make it to work if I allowed that.” He leaned forward, and I let the warm chypre of his new cologne wrap around me. I had to lift myself on my tiptoes to meet him, falling short as I often did with our eight-inch height difference. I smiled as he hungrily closed the gap.

  Noah’s lips were soft against mine, the subtle brush not leaving much to the imagination about what he’d envisioned and meant with his comment. It took everything in me not to try and convince him otherwise, knowing his dad needed the help more than Noah needed the money. I deepened the kiss, reaching up and leaning into him until our chests melted together. He wrapped one arm around my waist, locking me in place, while the other held my meal at a safe distance. When we finally broke apart, my heart was racing, and his burning gaze told me he was reconsidering working at all, so I grabbed my meal and shot him a seductive smirk.

  “Go,” I urged him. “I’ll take the bus home. You’re gonna be late, and your dad will be pissed.” He didn’t move back right away, so I assured him further. “We can pick this up later.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed.

  Noah ran a frustrated hand through his hair and somehow smiled and sighed in unison.

  “All right, but text me when you’re home,” he said. “And I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m done with work.”

  I agreed, and he gave me one last peck on the lips before heading out toward the parking lot. I shuffled over to an open bench as the sun made a mad dash behind the building gray clouds that promised an incoming storm. I didn’t know why I felt so drawn to help my mom tonight. Nothing about this stuff gave me the warm and fuzzy feeling of excitement. Instead, it sat in my stomach like cold lead. Regardless, I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to her because she was trying to make money to help me survive.

  Even if it meant she was going to be furious.

  Chapter Three

  I fidgeted with the drawstring to a pair of flowy bottoms marked up in designs I’d never seen before. The delicate curvatures of the small emblems up and down the fabric reminded me of the intricate designs henna artists drew on tourists along the pier. I ran my thumb across the patterns, pretending to be lost in the motion to avoid catching another glimpse of my unrecognizable self in the mirror pressed against the wall. My reflection stayed glued to the glass, mocking me as I wished, despite this being my doing, I were anywhere else.

  Two thin straps to the dusty rose crop top I wore were like silk against my skin. I’d checked the tag twice, not convinced it was rayon and not a more expensive material. My mom pulled my crimson locks back up into an intricate top braid, keeping it from my eyes, but the knots were no match for the escaped baby hairs tickling my face. As soon as her back was turned, I pulled a few more strands from the updo, trying my best to cover up the reminder of the accident not even makeup could hide.

  The subtle peach I’d initially painted my eyelids was now wiped away and replaced with a smokey gray, so I better looked the part. I tried and failed to replicate one of Adira’s famous liner looks and now rivaled the furry bandits that kept knocking our garbage cans over in the middle of the night.

  After a quick nod of approval, Mom busied herself with fanning the smoldering bundle of sage around the room. I inhaled the thick smoke. It coated my tongue, singeing the taste buds and drying all moisture from my mouth that no amount of lip smacking could resolve. Smothering the cough that convulsed my lungs was near impossible, the compromise being watering eyes and snot I had to quickly wipe away.

  Tall white candles painted dancing shadows against the wall. Their flames swayed slowly before lurching as the storm kicked up outside and sent a surprising gust through the cracked window. I sauntered to the opening to breathe in the sweet petrichor being released from thick clouds. Freezing droplets pattered against my outstretched hand, refreshing the dry skin cracking my knuckles.

  The sharp click of my mom’s tongue halted me from opening the window farther, all my dreams of escape vanishing into thin air.

  “Close that window. You’re letting the sage out,” she scolded me.

  “Wouldn’t we be so lucky?” I muttered under my breath and abided, ensuring to shut it softly to avoid another reason for her to be upset with me.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” I sighed and turned to face her, leaning back against the panes. It was pointless to remind her letting the sage out was part of the cleansing process. Of course, she wasn’t burning the herb for its actual effects. It was just another part of selling a specific experience to her clients. “What time are they supposed to be here? It’s getting dark.”

  “Around six,” she said.

  “Are you still mad?” I asked suddenly, needing to clear the air before it drove me insane.

  She paused and turned toward me, leaning into her hip as she decided how to respond. “I just don’t get why you want to be a part of this all of a sudden.”

  “So you don’t think you should have someone here with a bunch of strangers?” I rebutted, noting that she didn’t answer my question.

  In fairness, I didn’t exactly answer hers.

  Why did I have the undeniable urge to be here now? Yes, I meant what I said about how I’d felt uncomfortable at the notion of her being alone with out-of-towners, but there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on. It tickled the nape of my neck, the answer just within reach but ungraspable. I was a moth drawn to a flame, knowing in the end I’d be burned but never stopping long enough to let the heat’s warning deter me from the thrill of curiosity.

  “I can take care of myself,” she argued.

  “We can take care of each other.” I smiled when she sighed in aggravation. “Here, I’ll set up the board.”

  “No!” She threw her hand forward as if she could stop me with pure will, but I’d already retrieved the box to bring it to the round table that was set up in the middle of her workspace. I shot her a crazed look. The only time she’d reacted like that before was when I was a child. I found a lone bear trap laid out in the woods, my foot missing it by less than an inch. The way she’d rushed over to me, yelling about how I needed to look at my surroundings, it might as well had taken my whole leg off.

  “Look.” I pointed down. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I added when she didn’t look convinced. Besides the creepy stories told about Ouija boards and the maternal side of my family not liking them, nothing about it screamed danger. The idea of it still creeped me out, but I’d decided while getting ready that it was my inner child trying to scare me.

  She bit her lip, the bottom of her polished teeth leaving indents in the skin. A war was playing out in her mind, her gaze darting from the board to me and back. The silence riled my nerves as if some wild phenomenon was scheduled, but as I’d expected, everything stayed the same. Her shoulders slumped with a relief I couldn’t understand, the stress almost visible as it left her body in a slow exhale.

  “It’s non-refundable,” she finally said, plaster
ing a grin across her face. I guess she wasn’t mad at me anymore. “So, be careful.”

  “I will,” I said, looking back at the lackluster packaging, the word Ouija its only defining feature. It must have been expensive for her to get so worked up over. “Promise.”

  The board was heavier than I expected as I removed it from the box. The dense wood was nothing like the masonite I’d encountered once before while lurking through Grammy’s things. It appeared homemade, missing any symbolism or trademark linking it to a manufacturer or specific company. Ouija was delicately carved into the top, right in between the words yes and no. In the respective corners were paintings of the sun and moon, artistically drawn with matte black paint. Under the partial solar system was the alphabet, listed out letter by letter in an upward-facing arch. The large good-bye printed in a bold onyx font at the bottom tied it all together like a sinister bow.

  I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced up my spine. It was silly, I knew the board was nothing more than wood and writing, but it still piqued an interest that both terrified and exhilarated me at the same time. Mom hadn’t spoken much about the plan, and when she came by ensuring to cleanse the area around the board more thoroughly than anywhere else in the room, I worried she didn’t truly have one.

  I centered the board on the table and fished out the planchette from the box. I held the heart-shaped talker up to study it. There was a small hole in the middle covered with glass so you could easily peer through to whatever was under it. The tool was made of sturdy metal, which sat heavily in my hand. I rubbed a thumb over the intricate raised markings that tangled their way up the cursor like angry vines. Under the peephole were the moon’s phases, with the full moon dead center. Flipping in over in my hand, I noticed someone had engraved a question.