by S. E. Akers
“Just thinkin’ about my parents,” she admitted with a heavy sigh. “About lying to them.”
I placed my hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “There’s nothing we can do right now.” Not without that amethyst, I sulked. I wanted to cross that bridge first. Then, once they could even recognize their flesh & blood baby girl, we would deal with the how-in-the-hecks. And I still didn’t know how we were going to pull off all of those without tweaking any memories.
“I know,” Katie agreed, “but it still doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“That’s natural,” I said.
“For you, yes,” Katie grinned. “Guilt for you is like a vital organ.”
I nodded to the water. “I wouldn’t feel that guilty about pushin’ you out of this boat,” I assured with a devilish gleam.
Katie smiled enough to acknowledge my little joke. “Hearing all that stuff about bad thoughts and emotions makes me want to be a better person.” She gave her shoulders a contrite shrug. “And not so bitchy,” she confessed.
Now there was a proclamation begging to be explored. I thought the patina of her halo might need a quick spot-test, just to check its shine. “Even to Bethesda?” I posed.
Up went my BFF’s hand again. “I’d rather be kind to those who are truly in need,” she objected. “A homeless person . . . or help stock a food pantry . . . Or even volunteer at a hospital. The only mercy I can offer my dear, sweet cousin is a good smack upside her head with one of her grimoires.”
“Things aren’t any better?” I questioned.
“No. They’re worse,” Katie huffed, head shaking. “Shi, she picks me apart every chance she gets. I’m not kidding . . . She hates me.”
“Katie, she’s probably just dumping all of her crap on you because you’re family,” I assured. Seriously? Who hasn’t done that a time or two? I was Charlotte’s favorite whipping post. “Bethesda doesn’t hate you. Cousin or not, I don’t think she would let you stay there if she did.”
Katie leaned over laughing so hard I actually felt the boat rock. “Sure she would. My name is rent,” she chuckled. “Just you wait. You’ll see.”
Even if Bethesda was using Katie as a biological-scapegoat, something whispered that my saintly BFF might not be so innocent herself regarding any of their close-quarters roommate squabbles. I’d accrued over thirteen years riding shotgun with her M.O. and knew exactly how sharp she kept her claws. Yep. I was betting there was a whole lot more to this story than simply “Bethesda picking on poor little Katie.” I could feel it. Now I just had to figure out what it was.
The two of us spent the next hour playing catch-up while we strolled around the park, taking in the scenery. But it was mostly Katie detailing her exciting escapades. I simply listened, seeing how I didn’t have anything worthy enough to contribute. It wasn’t long before our one-sided conversation took a supernatural turn to witchcraft. I humored her at first, until Harriet Potter hinted about us comparing spells. I finally had to rip the broomstick out of her hands and steer a different course.
“Have you registered for your classes yet?” I asked abruptly.
“No,” Katie muttered and then went dead silent.
Seeing how she’d been chatting non-stop for the past sixty minutes, my suspicions sent me into panic-mode. “Why not?” I demanded.
“Because I’m waiting for my packet from MassArt,” Katie replied. “I’m thinking about going there instead.”
“But Tanner already got you into Boston College,” I said. “How are you going to swing that without a high school transcript and SAT scores?”
“With the magical aid of Photoshop,” she beamed.
I could totally see her doing it too. Though in all fairness, it was simply a more humanly manipulative version of what Tanner had done. “What are planning on majoring in?”
“I’m thinkin’ Fashion Merchandising or Design,” she replied. “Maybe both?” Her answer sounded perky and prepared enough to ease my worries. The last thing I wanted was her pulling a major “Bethesda” by ditching a traditional college education for studying the “true ways of the world” full-time.
“That sound’s like an ideal choice,” I bragged. Katie was the epitome of a fashionista around the halls of Welch High. Even the asymmetrical bandanna top and denim mini she was dressed in today confirmed she hadn’t lost her voguish touch — right down to her saddle brown western boots. “I could see myself wearing some Katie-Couture.” But I would draw a hard line at wearing something with her name stamped in block letters across my ass. That wasn’t happening.
“So you really want Katherine ‘Hepburn’ to become that successful and get that famous?” Katie questioned artfully.
The corners of my eyes twitched my objection. “Not unless you added an air of mystique to your image. You could be known as the eccentric designer who always wears a big black hat with a matching veil draped across your face. Now there’s some crafty image-branding.”
“Yeah,” Katie agreed with a teasing poke to my ribs. “And my big black hat could be pointy . . . and in the shape of a cone.”
I pressed my Asics against the concrete and whipped around on the spot. “Absolutely not,” I fussed.
“Why can Bethesda practice witchcraft and not me?” Katie blasted. “Or you, for that matter?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I countered. “Destiny didn’t offer it to me as an elective.” I straightened my frame and sharpened my stare, feeling as rigid and pointy as a No. 2 pencil. “Katie, do you not understand why you shouldn’t mess around with that stuff?”
“I’m not messing around!” she vowed. “Not like Bethesda. I’m being responsible.” She tossed her hair back with a casual flick. “You know, I’m actually pretty good.”
My jaw dropped like a hot pot. I would have rather she’d just gone on ahead and kicked me smack in the gut. “The kind of power you’re dabbling with has a price,” I lectured, sounding so much like Tanner that I would swear I’d left one of my X chromosomes and picked up his Y by mistake. “You, of all people should know that.” I even reached for her former diamond-dwelling to give it a flick. What I found along with it was the tiny speck of fire opal that hadn’t disintegrated. I stepped back and turned my head. “Shit . . .”
My BFF tucked it back under her shirt. “I told you it was my good luck charm. I’m not taking it off.” She dug both her fists into her waist. “And you can’t make me,” she taunted, knowing full well I wouldn’t compel that head of hers if my life depended on it.
I took a composing breath. “Why wouldn’t you want a normal life free from this?” I asked. “Trust me. It’s not all magical fun and games. There’s plenty of darkness and death.”
“Being trapped in a hunk of carbon tends to open your eyes up to a few things,” Katie countered. “Maybe I’m afraid of something bad happening to me again . . . or something happening to you. Ever think of that Suma Cum Laude? It’s like having a can of pepper spray in your purse. I like knowing it’s there if I need it.”
The silence wafting between us was stifling. The last thing I wanted was an argument about “The Craft”. I knew it was inevitable, but I hadn’t given the first consideration to her reasons why. Now it made perfect sense.
“Katie, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I figured it was just a passing phase that was getting out of hand.”
“That’s not your fault,” she assured. “We haven’t talked long enough this summer for me to really bring it up.”
My stare fell to the ground. Hearing her verbally acknowledge our distance just made me feel even worse.
Katie gave my arm a consoling squeeze. “I’m not upset, Shi — honestly. I figured this would happen. In fact, I’ve kind of been giving you space on purpose. I knew how excited you were about spending the summer at Tanner’s. The last thing I wanted was you worrying about me. I remember how focused and obsessed you were in school when it came to your grades. Ms. Straight-As succeeded at everything. I didn’t want to distract you f
rom your training,” she insisted. “That’s why I’ve been keeping myself busy . . . And I didn’t want you feeling guilty thinking that you were the only one having fun.”
My eyes froze. FUN? And hearing her describe the “old Shiloh” just made me feel like a sad little pup-in-training that had just got their face rubbed in their latest stinky mess on the carpet.
“No, Katie . . . I haven’t been having ‘fun’. I can promise you that.”
Confusion rumpled her brow. “Not even a little?” she posed, mouth cracked.
I couldn’t let this omission go on any longer, especially since I’d promised myself I wouldn’t tolerate any more of them. And that’s what bosom friends were for anyway, to listen and comfort you…no matter what?
I breathed out a heartfelt sigh and leveled my gaze to hers. “Katie, all I’ve managed to do is set a steady trail of dumpster fires for the past five weeks. It’s been one mishap after another, and I honestly don’t know how much more I can take . . . or Tanner can take for that matter. I think this holiday is just as much of a break for him as it is for me — PROBABLY MORE.” I plopped down onto the grass, hands slamming the ground. “And I can’t seem to get past it.” My emotions had finally gotten the best of me, and then the next thing I knew, tears were streaming down my face. “Studying from books and learning about magic aside, I can’t do anything right. So that’s how utterly shitty my summer has been. Trust me — I haven’t had any fun.”
Katie swooped down beside me. “You should have told me,” she fussed.
“I know,” I acknowledged, wiping away my river. “I’ve never felt this low before. It’s not like when Daddy passed, or you . . . or even Bea. All I felt was pure sorrow and abandonment. This is different. I just feel so incredibly switched-off and pathetic.” I pointed to my eyes. “This is the first time I’ve been able to cry over all this,” I sniveled. “That’s how freaking broken I’ve felt.”
Katie pulled my head onto her shoulder and started stroking my hair, and in turn, I commenced with an overdue account detailing all of my screw-ups to date. I fudged on the faeries of course. Talk about some catnip that would have her witchy little ears shooting straight into two wicked points. She would be hatching a plan to summon hers before we made it back to the car.
Katie quietly sat beside me throughout my entire distressing narrative, wide-eyed and completely stunned. “What has Tanner said about all this?” she finally asked.
“He’s been encouraging,” I replied. “But I still think I’m the real reason for this break.”
“Hasn’t your amethyst helped your mood?”
“I didn’t think I would need it . . . So I kind of surrendered it, purposely,” I explained. “And then when I started needing it, part of me thought I shouldn’t rely on it to fix things, and the other part couldn’t bring myself to ask him for it back.”
“How’s that pride workin’ for ya?”
“Like a bull in a china shop,” I replied. “Everything around me just feels like it’s crashing down. I miss Daddy. I miss Bea. I miss you. I miss Samuel. I miss Welch. Hell, I even miss the terrible-twosome, even as bad as what they can be.” I pulled up a dandelion next to my thigh and twirled it between my fingers. “And I miss the way Tanner and I used to be . . . before he was my round-the-clock mentor.”
“You know,” Katie began in her all-knowing tone, “I think you need to figure out where your frustration is really coming from so you can deal with it and move on. Your failed attempts at vanquishing monsters . . . or from him.”
My eyes shot into a disgusted roll. “It’s the monsters,” I groused, even though I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced myself. “Trust me — I’ve got the beatings to prove it.”
The heavy shroud of Katie’s eyelids hinted more than a few doubts. “Whatever you say,” she sighed. “You know, if you really want to get some clarity, you could always try meditating.”
I threw myself on the ground with a groan. “Now you sound like Silas.”
She gave my catatonic frame a couple reviving shakes. “Hey, it really works,” she raved. “I’ve been doing it every day.”
I looked up at her, eyes skeptical. “When did you turn so New Age?”
“Hello?” Katie grunted, waving her hands. “Been livin’ with a witch for weeks.”
“Lucky you,” I grinned.
“It’s not like I had another option. Live with Bethesda and meditate or suffocate the bitch in her sleep and rot in a cell.” Katie pulled her lips into a tart pucker. “Hey — I just got paroled. I’m not lookin’ to get locked up again.”
I had to agree with her on that one. Though jail-braking her out of four-concrete walls wrapped in rows of barbwire would be a piece of cake compared to her former diamond prison.
“Plus, the whole orange jumpsuit thing was an added incentive.” My BFF’s eyes shot into a foul roll. “No one looks good dressed as a traffic cone.”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the sky, needing to feel the sun’s warm embrace. “Katie . . . I don’t know if I’m truly cut out for this. I’m not Adamas. How can I possibly keep a horde of creatures from escaping The Veil when I can’t even send one back across the damn thing?”
“No, Shi, you’re not Adamas,” Katie agreed. “Not from the way you described him.” She scooted closer and gave my hand an endearing squeeze. “But you’re still the person who didn’t let me down. I held out hope for five months . . . Don’t tell me you’re ready to give up on her after only five weeks.”
A sobering rush of air parted my lips while her words lingered in my head. I turned to my astute bosom friend straightaway. “That was pretty deep.”
Katie stroked her fingertips across my cheek, wiping away the streaky remnants of my tears. “Now aren’t you glad you picked me in Kindergarten instead of Kara?”
The crimp seizing my lips broadcasted my answer, loud and clear.
“That’s what I thought,” she cooed.
A clown that was looking just as cheery and colorful as a rainbow hailed our attention when he walked past. We followed his trail over to a red & white striped tent where a pack of eagerly waiting children stood in line.
“Hey — We can have him paint a smile on you,” Katie teased.
“I doubt they brought enough red to accomplish that feat,” I assured.
“You’re probably right,” Katie agreed. “And they’d need a diamond-tipped tattoo gun to make it stick.”
“Probably,” I concurred, trying not to grin.
Katie hopped to her feet. “Well, there has to be something we can do today that will perk you up.” I could tell her mind was whirling from the steep pitch of her chin and the number of times her finger tapped against it. “I know!” she blurted, wide-eyed. “Let’s find someone for you to heal. You said that gave you a real rush . . . So, pick someone.” Then she motioned to all the people around us like a model on a game show, eager for me to select a prize.
My eyes casually bounced around the lively scene. Kids were playing… Parents sat huddled nearby, chatting with one another while they watched and waited patiently… Picture-perfect couples strolled lazily down the lane, hand-in-hand. As far as mental basket-cases or cracked noggins went, my search couldn’t have seemed more pointless. The only thing missing was a diamond-shaped road sign stamped, “DEAD END” glaring at me.
“I don’t see anyone in need of mental repair,” I muttered. “Everyone looks happy to me.”
“You’re not even trying,” Katie whined and then pulled me to my feet. “Take a good gander at them, especially the kids.”
With a more scrutinizing look this time, my eyes perused the much rowdier scene. Children were actually pushing each other around instead of playing nice, throwing sand back and forth, cutting in front of other kids waiting to get on the slide, ripping toys out of each other’s hands, there was a whole lot of crying & whining, and I even spotted one little boy punching his dad in the face every time he tried lathering his arms with sunscreen. And
that was just what I’d witnessed off in one remote corner of the wide-open chaos running rampant all around.
Katie arched her brow knowingly. “Now, you can’t tell me that not one of those parents sitting over there aren’t missing a screw or two.”
I shook my head, half-grinning. It wasn’t a secret that Katie had never been a huge fan of young children. “Believe it or not, you were once a kid too,” I scolded.
Suddenly a little girl nearby blasted off a stream of “NOs” to her mother, screaming at the top of her lungs. Then she threw her cherry-red sno-cone at the woman and dropped to the ground in a kicking tantrum.
Katie glared at the scene. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I never acted like THAT.”
“You’re right . . . From what I hear, an only child is way worse,” I joked and gave her waist a quick pinch.
Katie swatted my hip and then leaned into my ear. “I can break one of their arms,” she whispered. “Just say the word.”
“No,” I fussed, mouth gaped, and then pinched her side harder. Now I wanted to snag that clown and have him paint a line of stitches down her cheek to match that gangster attitude.
“I’ll make it look like an accident,” she assured discreetly. “Then you can come along like a magician and poof them all better, minus the black cape. It’s way too hot today.”
“Just sit tight, Scarface. Let me get a better look,” I urged. My gaze circulated the picnic tables like I was at a farmer’s market in search of the ripest peach to plop in my basket. I sifted through the unsuspecting parents’ heads, silently absorbing their thoughts. Although none of the gathered masses were radiating any mental disruptions that came anywhere close to what I’d sensed the other day at Transcendence, they certainly had more than enough worries to technically deem them certifiable. Mortgages and bills were a popular theme for many of them, but overall they were obsessing about their children. Things like planning birthday parties, hoping they got accepted into the best private school, thinking about what they were cooking for dinner that everyone in their households would eat, remembering to call sitters for date-nights with their spouses, and trying to figure out how they were going to cram in all the umpteen-million organized sports and activities on their children’s mile-long lists. And rest assured, the parents of all those do-it-all Super-Kids had plenty of daydreams about a nine o’clock bottles of wine to go with them.