by Ann M. Noser
“Yes, Angie, I remember.” I clench the table. What will she say next?
“Everything was fine,” Angie repeats. “I used that book all the time. I’d done love spells tons of times for friends before, but none of them were as strong as that one. Every single day I did spells to talk to Grandma and for weight control.” Angie flushes. “There was never a problem.”
“What kind of dreams, Angie?” I have to know.
Chrissy glares at me, but I ignore her.
“It was horrible!” Angie’s hand flies to her throat. “A group of guys beat another man to death and threw him in the river. Then they spray painted a smiley face on a tree and drove off. It kept playing over and over in my head, every time I went to sleep. You can’t imagine how it felt to watch that, knowing there was nothing I could do about it.”
Mike and I share a glance, his eyebrows raised in an “I-told-you-so” fashion.
Chrissy catches my eye. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
“Just be careful, Emma.” Angie stares at the table. “That book is trouble.”
“So you don’t want it back?” I hold my breath.
Angie shakes her head, repeating, “Just be careful.”
Her words should scare me, but all I hear is that the Book of Shadows is mine.
Angie doesn’t want it.
The book is mine.
Mine.
n the drive home from Pizza Heaven, Mike tells me what he wants to do with the rest of his time. “I’d love to see a March Madness game in person. Would you be able to get tickets? We could leave tomorrow after your classes and stay in hotels along the way.”
“March Madness? What made you think of that?”
“Good grief, Emma. Weren’t you even listening? We just spent the last hour and a half talking about it at the pizza joint.”
“No,” I confess. “I don’t know anything about sports, so I generally don’t pay attention to that kind of talk.”
“Too focused on your chocolate pudding?” He smiles for a second, and then his face turns serious. “Or your stupid Book of Shadows?”
Mine. The Book is mine.
I need to distract him to avoid another lecture. “Okay. We’ll go to a game.” Oh great, basketball. Boring.
Mike’s stomach grumbles. “Ugh.” He grimaced. “Maybe I ate too much. I feel awful.”
His stomachache doesn’t appear to dampen his enthusiasm. He talks on and on about the teams and players, while I pretend to listen. I’ve no idea who he’s even talking about, I know so little on the subject.
“Although I think you’re being frivolous,” I scold, “I’ll do my best to find tickets. My dad probably has some contacts, or else we might find scalpers outside the arena.”
But first I want to talk to Walker again. Something needs to be done about Kevin.
With two hours to burn until my last class before spring break, I creep past the apartment, sneak into my car, and drive to the police station. Fresh after my successful encounter with Amanda, I tell myself I don’t care if I run into Kevin or not. I’m not hiding from anyone anymore.
I enter the police station and tunnel through hallways of brown seventies-style paneling. It smells like cheap coffee and copy machines.
I slow, hearing angry voices ahead of me. I don’t recognize them until I turn the final corner and enter a big room full of wooden desks. Closed office doors line both ends of the room.
Walker and Kevin glare at each other a short distance in front of me, both so absorbed in their argument that neither one notices me at first. The rest of the room is deserted.
“Why are you spending so much time with that Emma Roberts?” Kevin demands.
“Your problem is that you want to blame her for Mike’s death because you can’t face your own responsibility.”
Kevin’s face flushes tomato red. “I’m not the one who let Mike swim in that river!”
“Your brother’s blood alcohol level was 0.24. Emma had nothing to do with that. You did.”
“How dare you―” Kevin narrows his eyes.
Walker doesn’t let him finish. “You haven’t dealt with your grief. Instead of trying to forgive everyone involved in the accident, including yourself, you just keep pointing your finger at Emma.”
“What is your obsession with that girl? Ever since she found that guy’s body you act like she’s a superhero or something.”
“I understand her,” Walker says.
That’s funny. Walker usually acts like I don’t make any sense whatsoever.
“Actually, I’ve been her,” Walker continues. “I lost a friend in a drowning when I was very young.”
“Mike wasn’t Emma’s friend,” Kevin argues.
That’s not true!
Walker sighs. “Kevin, you’re not listening to me. If you could just forgive her, then you might find it easier to forgive yourself.”
I stare at Kevin’s clenched fists. They seem itching to hit something―or someone. Maybe me.
“You have to come to terms with the part you played in your brother’s death, or it will destroy you.”
“Shut up!” Kevin lets his fists fly.
Walker, despite being about ten years older, is in better shape than Kevin. He blocks the punches rather easily until my big mouth interferes.
“Stop it! Stop it!” I rush toward them.
Walker turns in surprise, just before Kevin knocks him over his desk with a blow to the face.
“Stop fighting! This shouldn’t be happening!” I stand between them and hold out my hands, pretending to be the superhero Kevin talked about.
“I don’t hit girls, but if I did, you’d be the first in line.” Kevin backs away in disgust.
“You shouldn’t hit anyone.” I help Walker to his feet. His nose bleeds profusely.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Kevin snaps. “You don’t have the right.”
“Yes, I do! I cared about Mike, too. Did you know that he idolized you? He wanted to be just like you. In fact, Mike tried to swim the river that night to impress you. He worshipped you back then, but he wouldn’t even recognize you now. He’d just be disappointed.”
Kevin pales. Something in his face collapses. He turns and flees without another word.
“Do you think it’s broken?” I press another wad of tissue to Walker’s bloody nose.
“It’s not broken.” Walker squirms and pushes my hands away.
“Fine, do it yourself, then.”
“Thanks. I will.” Walker continues to stuff tissues up his nose. He retreats behind his desk to his chair.
I lean on the desk. “You never told me that a friend of yours drowned. What happened?”
Walker’s eyes grow distant and sad. “Billy and I were just kids. The summer before fifth grade, we were goofing around in the quarry, swimming where we weren’t supposed to, and he slipped and fell. I couldn’t find him. I had to leave him in there to run for help.”
I hold my breath.
“I think that’s why I keep doing this job.” Walker gestures toward the bulletin board with everyone’s pictures on it. “I’ve never really forgiven myself. I always feel like there was something I should’ve done differently, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah. I know.”
He grabs more tissues and looks at me, a puzzled expression on his bloody face. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“The funny thing is that I came here to ask you what we should do to help Kevin.”
Walker frowns. “About the only thing I can do to help Kevin now is to not press charges against him.”
“Please don’t.”
He readjusts his bloody tissues. “I don’t intend to.”
“Well, I’ve got one more class. I should go.”
He nods, looking ridiculous with eight tissues shoved up each nostril. “Get the hell out of here, then.”
rush off to my last, very poorly attended class before spring break. Afterward, I hustle back to the apartment.
“Okay, I just have to pack.” Alone in my room, I yank a travel bag out of the closet. I toss in underwear, pausing a moment before adding a dress, some jeans, and my contact lens stuff. “I’m ready!”
We drive off just as the sun sets, heading south on Interstate 94 toward the nearest game. I fuss with the radio, since I neglected to pack any road trip CDs.
“Ugh.” I groan. “I can’t find a decent radio station. Do you like any of these songs? Oh, good, here’s an oldies station.”
No response from Mike’s side of the car.
“You’re not saying much.” I glance at his profile. “Is something wrong?”
“I feel funny.” He gazes out the window. “Maybe I’m catching a cold or something.”
“I hope you don’t get sick.” I focus on the road ahead, worried about Mike. Other than talking about basketball, he’s been quiet since Steve left. We both have.
Leafless, gray trees flash by, along with mile after mile of dormant grass. “I miss the color green, don’t you?” I ask.
Mike continues to stare at the darkening landscape.
“That’s the worst thing about winter,” I continue. “There’s no color anywhere. And spring break isn’t really spring at all. It’s just what’s left of a worn-out winter.”
Mike sighs.
“Why are you so bummed? I thought you liked basketball.” As opposed to me.
He frowns. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Sure I do.”
“I’m warning you… You’re not gonna like what I have to say.”
“So what?” I shrug. “I’m used to that.”
“It’s just… I wish…” He sighs once more, and then the words tumble out. “You’re never going to give up that Book of Shadows, are you?”
“What?” I grip the steering wheel. The white lines in the road blur in front of me. “No, I’m not. It belongs with me.”
His shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry I put you through this. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
“Of course you didn’t. So stop feeling guilty about it, because that’ll make me feel guilty because you feel bad, and then―”
“No. You don’t understand. I mean, I do feel guilty, but mostly, I’m just worried about what’s going to happen to you when I leave.”
I flush. My voice wavers as I try to remain calm. “Don’t worry about me. I promise I won’t go crazy and bring you back all over again.”
“Does that mean you’ll stop being a witch once I’m gone? Because I would really like that.”
I stare into Mike’s eyes. Once again, just like when we first met, I find it hard to break my gaze.
Thump!
Our car rolls over something large. I hit the breaks and battle the steering wheel as we jerk over to the side of the road.
“What was that?” Mike spins around in his seat, staring back through the darkness.
“It had to be a deer.” My voice shakes. I focus on my clenched hands, unable to face what else I might have hit.
“Are you sure? Did you see it?”
I can barely breathe out the word: “No.”
“Then we’d better go look.” Mike digs in the glove compartment for a flashlight.
“Mike. Be careful. We’re on a highway, and it’s dark out. This isn’t safe.”
“Then just stay here. I’m dead already, remember?” He gets out of the car and jogs down the edge of the highway, his flashlight bouncing up and down as he scans the road ahead of him.
As usual, I don’t listen to Mike. I stumble out of the car, my legs rubbery. The wind whips hair into my face. With the sun gone, there’s only the moonlight and the flashlight to show us what lays unmoving in the middle of the highway.
It’s not a deer.
It’s a body.
I’ve killed somebody.
“No!” I scream and dart into the road, racing toward the lifeless form. Mike meets me on the dotted lines, aiming the flashlight at the figure sprawled on the road.
“Is he dead?” Mike asks.
I can’t answer.
“Here.” Mike shoves the flashlight in my hands. “You aim the light, and I’ll check. Keep an eye out for cars.”
As Mike crouches down next to the body, I suddenly recognize the red shirt, dark hair, and the shape of the victim’s head.
I’ve seen it before. In all my nightmares.
Only this time I’m awake.
“Mike! Mike! Don’t look! I’ll do it!”
But I’m too late. Mike cradles the head in his hands and turns it toward the beam of light.
Then we both stare down at Mike’s own dead face.
“What the hell?” Mike jumps back and grabs my arm. “That can’t be real! Let’s get out of here!”
“Not again,” I whimper, tears racing down my cheeks.
“This happened to you before?” Mike yanks on my arm. “Come on! Let’s go before any other cars come along.”
“You’re right. This isn’t real. It’s one of my nightmares, only this time you’re here, too.” I aim the flashlight at his shocked face.
“Emma, I’m so sorry.”
BEEEEEEP!
The warning blast of a car horn sends us scurrying to the side of the road.
WOOOSH!
The car races by, right over where the body had been. Except now the body is gone. I aim the flashlight at the spot. The road is empty.
“Let’s get out of here!” Mike grabs my arm and drags me down the side of the road toward the car. “I can drive if you want.”
“That’s probably best.” I sink into the passenger seat. The keys jangle as I hand them over. My hands tremble so much that it takes three tries to strap my seat belt.
Mike starts the engine. “I hate this. I hate that you’re getting hurt because of something I did. And I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to my family.”
“Oh, Mike.” The tears fall.
“You brought me back, and I haven’t made anything right.” Mike glances at me. “In fact, I wonder if I’ve made things even worse, at least for you.”
“Don’t say that.”
He takes a jagged breath. “Would it make you feel better if I talked to my brother? At least you would’ve brought me back for a reason.”
I smile, wiping at my stupid tears. “There’s still time. We could turn around right now.”
“No. I’m not ready yet. I’ll do it when we get home, during the next full moon, right before I go back.”
“Okay.”
“Now you just relax and I’ll drive.”
More miles pass by. Mike opens and shuts his mouth several times before speaking.
“Emma, please tell me about the nightmares. And don’t leave anything out this time. Bernard and Steve aren’t here. It’s just me. So you don’t have to edit.”
I fold my hands in my lap. “Now I’m warning you―you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“That’s okay.” Mike grins. “I’m used to that.”
I take a deep breath and continue. “When I crawled out of the river the night you drowned, I looked back and couldn’t find you. But I thought you were just looking for your stupid socks again.”
Mike throws me a puzzled look.
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“Well, you kept losing them in the river. It scared me half to death. So when I got out and couldn’t find you, I kept thinking your head would just pop back out of the water. But that never happened. I ran up and down the shoreline, searching for you. Then someone came at me through the bushes.”
Mike’s face pales.
“At first I thought it was you, but it was this other guy who called 9-1-1 and wouldn’t let me back in the water. I fought with him until I fell down, being the klutz that I am. I woke up in the hospital. That’s where I first met
Walker. They sent me home with pain meds because my head hurt so bad, but the pills gave me nightmares about the river.”
“Are you still taking them?”
“No. I stopped ages ago, but the dreams continued. I kept seeing your dead body, over and over again, on the bridge and in the river. I thought I was going insane. Then I found my Book of Shadows and decided to bring you back.”
Mike stiffens. “So this really is all my fault.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Tell me you hate me. Anyone else on the planet would. I’ve single-handedly ruined your life. Now that your nightmares are becoming real, how far is this going to go? How will you stop it?”
“You worry too much.”
“No, I don’t. It’s like we’ve switched places. Now you’re the one who wants to go swimming and I’m the one who doesn’t know how to stop you. Except this time it’s about witchcraft and not the river.”
In my mind I once more watch the moonlight reflecting on every ripple of the river, the ducks bobbing on the water, the night shadows over Mike’s face.
Mike clears his throat. “What about the others? Do you dream of them, too?”
“Just you.” I pause. “Well, I see Jake sometimes, but that’s not a nightmare.”
Mike raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say a word.
“I mean, sometimes I think I see him on campus, but it’s never really him.”
“Oh.” Mike nods. “You know, Emma, I care about you, too.”
“What?” My heart stutters.
“I know it sounds stupid given the situation, but I like being around you. Hell, I even like watching Gilmore Girls if it means I can be alone with you.”
I can’t look at Mike. Memories flood my brain, of Jake and me dancing at the Christmas party, of Jake being dragged across the snow, of Mike catching the Frisbee out on the lawn.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mike continues. “I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve hurt you enough already.”
Mike’s gaze darts back and forth between the road and me. “Emma, I’m just trying to say that you’re definitely the coolest girl I’ve ever met.”
“You must be joking.” This is going too far. It isn’t realistic. I’m anything but cool.