Half-Breed

by Zachary Smith

  Chapter 22

  Sitting alone in the local coffee shop gives me time to think about the day ahead. Time I wish I didn’t have, as I find myself using it to overthink every possible outcome, all of which end badly. And this is what I’ve been doing for most of the week, finding it hard to concentrate on anything else, other than today.

  With my attention seriously lacking, I decided it was for the best that I didn’t train in the evenings and have been telling Riley I’ve been spending time with Matthew, which isn’t a complete lie. We have been catching up throughout the week, for like ten/fifteen minutes a night, give or take. And knowing how troubling it was for me when I fell from speaking terms with Matthew, Riley has accepted my excuses every time, but I’m unsure how much longer he’ll allow me to get away with it. He’s already getting somewhat suspicious, but I do this for him, rather than waste his time training me in the use my powers, the likes I won’t have much longer. The whole act is pointless now. I have a light at the end of this Half-Breed tunnel, it’s in my grasp, I just need to power forward until I’m free.

  The waitress with limp mousy brown hair overlooks me for the third time, instead taking the order of a couple behind, who have barely been here two minutes. I should say something, grab her attention and voice my dissatisfaction with the service I’ve received, but I know I won’t, so I wait patiently until she’s finally at my table.

  “Welcome to The Coffee Shell, can I take your order?” she mumbles while picking at her chipped nails.

  Looking blankly at the menu, I realise in the time it’s taken for someone to serve me I’ve completely forgotten to pick what I want. “Just a drink please,” I reply, swiftly scanning the page to find the drinks section.

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “What drink?”

  I find the heading ‘Coffees’ and randomly pick the third one down, feeling rushed by her constant foot tapping and pressured by the fact I know I’m holding her up. “A flat white please.”

  “Kay.” She utters, snatching the menu from my hands.

  I’d suggested this place to Miah for our date as I’ve passed it many times and thought the interior looked pleasantly different. It’s mostly stressed wooden timber for the walls, like the inside of an old shack, with abstract paintings hung upon them and metal chairs and tables lining the floor. Even with the dilapidated look, there is still a sense of a homely touch and a cosy atmosphere. The staff, I’ve heard are normally overly friendly, although my waitress has proven that to be a lie in less than a few minutes. Most of them are young and the uniform is casual; it’s a long dark green apron over their everyday wear, some even have a cap on – this is definitely a place I could see myself working.

  The coffee turns up much quicker than it took to order, brought over by a guy that has long blonde hair, with a blue stripe through it and large stretched ear tunnels. He’s a lot friendlier than the girl, having asked if I’m from around here and whether I’d been to The Coffee Shell before – general chit-chat. Instinctively I blow the top of my coffee, ruining the pattern of a shell made out of the foam, and sip it gently. Although it’s a pointless act, as I no longer feel the burning sensation anymore. I do this purely to get the practice in, as a means to stop scolding my tongue when I’m back to normal.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Miah huffs. “I missed the first train, then the second one was late and to top it off, I got lost!” She slams down on the chair with force, taking deep breaths like she’s just finished a run. “Anyways!” her eyes narrow in on me. “Oh, no hat?”

  I blush slightly, I didn’t think it would be that noticeable, granted, this is the first time she’s seen me without one on, but it’s only a hat, why would she even mention it?

  “No, I forgot it.” I nervously laugh. Where it come from, I have no idea, nor do I know why I’m even laughing in the first place. It felt right, but now, as I look at her smirking back at me, I know it wasn’t needed. Nothing was funny about what I’d said.

  “Ya should forget it more often.”

  Again I laugh. Where is this coming from? And why is it I only act this way around her? A bumbling fool. That’s the only way I can explain myself. So to stifle it, I force a sip of my coffee, holding the cup to my lips longer than is needed to also dodge a reply.

  “What ya drinking,” She asks.

  “A flat white. But don’t expect a fast service–”

  “Excuse me,” she calls out to the barista stood ideally next to the coffee machine. “Excuse me!” Rising from her seat, she waves her hands at him until he acknowledges her. “Long black macchiato, please!” she hollers with a cheeky smile. All the while I put my head down, hiding my face from view.

  “What’s the plan for today then?” she asks.

  “I thought we could go to the beach, take some pictures of the horizon?”

  “Sounds great, let’s waste no time.” She beams, grabbing the unfinished drink from my hands and walking to the counter. “Hey! me again,” – she winks to the barista – “could we get the macchiato to go and another takeaway cup for the rest of this?”

  The guy behind the counter takes the drink from her and they continue to chat while he finishes her order. Words cannot be heard over the sound of the coffee machine as it shoots out a burst of white steam, but I’m sure he is giving her direction. With nothing to keep myself busy while I wait, I find my eyes unable to look anywhere other than the conversation they’re having. Why does it bother me so much?

  With both takeaway cups in hand, Miah twirls around and makes her way back to me. “What a nice guy,” she gushes. “He said there’s a good spot on the cliff tops that overlooks a good chunk of coastline.”

  Great! That was my original plan anyway, now it looks as if I’m an amateur who’s taking advice from some random. And it’s not like I can say anything as she’d probably just think I’m being jealous, again. “Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “What a nice guy.”

  Luckily for us, the coffee shop is near the seafront and it takes only a few minutes before we reach the cliff tops and are overlooking Shellbourne beach. Luck strikes twice as we couldn’t have asked for a better day, the sun is shining brightly, there’s minimal wind and the sky is a radiant crystal blue. The cliff tops are high, covered in freshly cut grass and to the edge, there’s a white metal fence that follows the stretch of the cliff as far as the eye can see to ensure no one has an accident and falls over. Finding the perfect spot, I begin to set up the tripod and camera.

  “Mr serious.” Miah laughs.

  “You want good photos, don’t you?”

  She salutes me. “Of course. Ready for my orders.”

  Somehow, I’ve unknowingly met the female version of Matthew. It’s beyond me why they didn’t click, although, at the same time, I’m secretly thankful.

  With everything now set up, I signal Miah to join me and position her behind the camera. “Ok,” I begin. “So you’re ready to take your first picture.”

  “I just press?” she asks.

  “Basically. Just wait for the image you want, then press and hold the button for a moment until you hear a click.”

  She turns to me while keeping her finger on the shutter button. “This… all seems pretty easy.”

  A quick laugh escapes my mouth, again, nothing is funny, but I can’t control it. “Well, this is a beginner’s course. First, you need to get to grips with the camera itself.”

  “Oh, I see. It becomes more technical, does it?” She bites the tip of her tongue in jest, which spends a jolt to my stomach and makes my knees go weak.

  With her eye pushed to the camera, she waits patiently before she takes her first shot, mumbling to herself.

  “Everything ok?” I ask.

  She doesn’t break her focus while she talks, remaining in a slightly hunched position, with a stern face. “Artist at work hun, just waiting for a decent wave to crash. Ah ha!” She presses down and waits a moment until the camera shutter sounds. “And that’s how you take a photo!” she ch
eers.

  Shifting through the camera menu, I bring up the gallery and show Miah the picture she’d taken. “For a first timer, that’s pretty good.”

  She stands before me, arms folded. “Just pretty good?”

  My chest muscles tighten, pushing all the air from my lungs. “No, I-I-I mean it’s good. It’s a good photo.”

  She giggles a cheeky laugh and runs over to the white fence, leaning over it to take in the view of the beach. With the wind now a light breeze, Miah stretches out her arms and throws her head back. “This place!” she yells. “You guys are so lucky to live here.”

  I join her, leaning up against the fence. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think most of us take it for granted, though.”

  Thinking back to when I was younger, I never came to the beach, even though it was right on my doorstep. It wasn’t until my teenage years I found the peacefulness it instilled within my troubled mind and began coming here more often, normally after the holidaymakers would retire for the evening.

  With a mischievous look in her eyes, Miah turns to me. “Does that thing have a timer?” she asks, pointing to the camera.

  “Yes…” I reply, cautiously.

  “Well then,” she hurries back to the camera with a cunning smile. “It’s photo time.”

  Backing away and shaking my head, I protest. “I’m fine with taking one of you, but I’m not a photo kind of guy.”

  Tilting her head mockingly, Miah traces my backwards steps, closing the gap between us. “That’s a shame because I am a photo kind of girl, who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  Another laugh slips through my lips as I try and avoid the clutches of a determined Miah. With her hazel eyes set upon me, I’m cornered before I even have a fair chance like the frightened prey to a lioness. “I’m being serious.” She insists. “We will be having a photo together. Now!”

  “Ok,” I relent, afraid of what she might do if I refuse further.

  I can now see why she and Matthew didn’t gel, they’re way too similar and headstrong. They’d clash. Could this be why we do get on? Our pieces fit together well. She orders and I obey…

  Camera set, I take a breath. “You ready?” I ask.

  “Always.” She brags, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to the white fence.

  The flashing red light, indicating the timer counting down, sends a shot of nerves through my body with each flash, causing my body to go rigid. This is why I hate being in photos, I never look natural, and when I look back on them, I feel the awkwardness I felt when it was being taken. “Loosen up a bit.” She instructs, pulling apart my crossed arms. “Just smile and show off those cute dimples.”

  Does she like my dimples? And for that brief moment I forget about the camera, and only see Miah; the first girl I’ve ever looked twice at, who makes me feel awkward, shy and uneasy, yet in a weird twist, strangely confident, happy and content. Even now, in a situation I’d normally shy away from, we stand here on the cliff tops, with the sun upon us and the sound of crashing waves behind us. For the first time, I feel a part of something, which makes me smile.

  Blinded by the flash, I blink hard to rid my sight of the spots in my vision. “Let’s see, let’s see.” Miah pleads.

  Opening the gallery, the first photo that displays is the one Miah took. “Awesome.” She notes. Swiping to the next one, my heart instantly jumps once it loads. The light hits us both perfectly, showing every little detail on our faces; for me, it’s mainly my dimples and for Miah, it’s her tooth filled grin as she leans into me. We both look natural in it. It’s a picture I never thought I’d ever achieve, yet here it is staring back at me.

  “Whoa,” Miah gasps, hunching in closer to get a better look. “That’s… such a cute photo. You look great.

  “You do,” I mumble, unable to take my eyes of the picture.

  Miah recoils. “Was that a compliment?”

  With my mind clouded by the image held out in front, I can’t think of an answer to get myself out of this embarrassing situation, but for once, Miah doesn’t mock me further and with a playful shove, she’s off again, bounding toward the cliff edge.

  Shoes in hand, I take a step onto the golden sand and warm by bare feet as they sink into it. With the beach looking so inviting from the cliff top, I suggested to Miah we took a stroll down one of the zig-zag paths so she could experience it first-hand. “It’s beautiful,” she affirms, running on ahead and kicking sand up in her wake.

  Having run straight to the ocean, she begins jumping the small waves, all the while calling out to me, wanting me to join her. I refuse, shaking my head, instead of shouting back to her, and brace myself, waiting to be pounced on again, but she lets it slide – obviously she’s way too busy having fun.

  With the added reflection from the sea, the sun is brighter here, so I lay back and close my eyes. For once my mind is clear, with only the picture of Miah and me visible, bringing with it the feeling of happiness I felt when it was taken.

  “What’s got you so smiley?”

  My eyes open to Miah leaning over me, her tight light jeans rolled up just below her knees and her feet covered in sand. She joins me, patting the sand flat before sitting. “Well?” she lures.

  “Oh, nothing,” I answer.

  She playfully shoves me. “One of those ‘I wouldn’t find it interesting’ moments?”

  “Basically.” I nod.

  Sitting up, I shake the sand from my hair, causing it to mess up worse than my usual hat-hair. “Nice do.” Smirks Miah.

  I knew I should have worn my hat.

  As I try and fix my hair, Miah stares up into the sky, drifting in and out of a daydream. I look to her, wondering what she’s thinking, and realise, with all the questions she asked me about myself, I’ve never really asked anything about her. “Miah?” I begin.

  “Yes hun?” she answers with her eyes closed and head turned up to the sky.

  “Why are you with Darcy?”

  This brings me her attention, and for a moment, it looks as if she’s shocked I’ve spoken. “Because she’s my guardian, and more importantly, my friend.”

  “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, why is Darcy your guardian?”

  “Oh,” she replies, her body falling slightly. “As you already know, my mother was never around – she was the Daemon. My father, he” – she hesitates – “he raised me from the day he found me. I couldn’t have asked for anything more, I was a real daddy’s little girl; we had our own little world together.” I can tell this is hard for her, her voice sounds strained, tainted with the pain remembering brings.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No-no, it’s fine.” She replies, clearing her throat. “I must have been about nine when he first got sick, cancer. He was a fighter though and I got another two years with him. But when the end came, it all happened so suddenly, one minute he was fine, and then…” She doesn’t say it, she doesn’t need to, we both know what she means. “Even as a child, I knew what was going on. But do you know what got me the most? Everything we never got to finish. Like an unfinished puzzle I found in my room we’d started together, or a TV show we’d been watching. He never got to see the ending. It’s unfair.”

  She takes a moment before continuing. “Then came the day of the funeral. Everyone just kept saying how we’ll finally get to say a proper goodbye. And all I could think about was our unfinished puzzle.” She lets out a sullen filled laugh. “Ya know, I never did finish it. I couldn’t. Why should I get to see the end result and not him?”

  “You were a grieving child,” I say, desperately wanting to comfort her, but knowing my awkward mind would never allow it.

  “I even thought if I didn’t say goodbye, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. Because it’s rude to leave without saying goodbye, right?” Her eyes begin to well up, so she closes them and shakes her head to recompose herself. “Of course, we buried him, there was no way around that one. Then I was taken in by
his only sibling, my aunt. She had no children of her own, it didn’t suit the lifestyle she’d built with her husband, my uncle. They had the large house, fancy cars, two or three holidays a year and ate out at expensive restaurants most nights. So the last thing they needed was a child to cramp their style.”

  Listening to her words, I’m overcome by her sadness. How I wish I could show her some kind of affection, but my mind won’t allow my body to do such a thing, not while it’s battling my normal inner anxieties.

  She continues. “It was about a year after I moved in with my aunt that my powers manifested. At first, I had no idea what was going on, thoughts would just jump into my head, things I couldn’t possibly know. Then my other powers began to show, I’d unintentionally read people, or even link my vision to someone. You ever tried walking to school while your sight is up in Scotland, or out in Europe somewhere?”

  “You can do that!?” I question with wide eyes.

  “Only when I’d lose control of my powers. Since I’ve mastered them, I’ve never been able to send my sight that far. Anyways, that’s when I did my research and found Dee, who taught me all I needed to know,” She lays back, resting her head on the sand, flattening her hair. “Months later and a thought popped into my head. It was my uncle, he as having an affair.”

  My mouth hangs open, nearly hitting the floor.

  “I know right,” she fumes. “So I told my aunt, thinking it was the right thing to do, but she was so angry. She accused me of snooping and said it was none of my business. I tried to tell her I didn’t snoop around, but she wouldn’t believe me. Why would she? It’s not like I could tell her how I truly found out. And from that moment, our already strained relationship was shattered. I was shunned. Ever had people constantly around ya, yet feeling like ya were the loneliest person in the world?”

  If only she knew.

  “Home life became unbearable, so I spent most of my time with Dee. Until one day, when I came home from school to find a social worker waiting for me, and with my bags already packed – courtesy of my aunt – I was taken into care. From there I bounced around many different foster homes for about six months, feeling unwanted every time I was moved on to the next home – people aren’t too keen on living with a weird child.

  All those years I spent wasted at home worrying about such trivial things in comparison. I feel stupid, but nowhere near as much as I feel selfish. “I can’t even begin to understand what you went though. You had it tough.”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so, but who’s to say what tough is? I got eleven great years with my dad, some people don’t even get that, and that’s what I held on to. Without the bad, how do we know what to cherish as good?”

  Even now, she’s still upbeat.

  “Dee was there for me, she could see the shell of a girl I was becoming, so she suggested I move in with her. Of course, I jumped at the chance and after many social visits and countless signatures on paperwork, it was official, and we’ve been together ever since.”

  “Do you see or hear from your aunt?” I ask.

  “Not really, but that’s her choice and I can’t change that.”

  Brushing my hand along the sand, I scrape my finger on something sharp. “Dam.” I cry, pulling my hand away and squeezing it.

  Miah giggles. “What have you done?”

  Carefully sweeping away more of the sand, I uncover a silver and bronze shell with rough edges and a smooth reflective centre. I blow the remaining grains of sand from it and hand it to her. “Here. This is your pass.”

  Her eyebrows narrow in. “A pass?”

  “Yeah, for Shellbourne… The Shells. I’m making you an honorary member of our town, so… you know.”

  A cheeky grin creeps across her face. “I think I do, but I want to hear ya say it.”

  Feeling a rush of blood to my head, I begin to regret giving her the stupid shell. “So…” My voice is low and mumbled. “You never have to feel unwanted or alone, ever again.”

  I wait for it, a cocky comeback about how easy that was and how I should be like that more often, but nothing comes. So I brace myself and look in her direction, thinking maybe she’s pulling a face at me, but she isn’t. Instead, she sits in silences, staring down at the shell placed in the middle of her palm, and slowly wraps her fingers around it. “Thank you.” She says softly.

  Resting my head back, I look up to the sky and shield my eyes from the burning sun directly above us. Miah joins me, pulling herself in closer.

  Peering down at our hands, I see that they are less than an inch apart. Just grab it! My mind repeats, accompanied by a spasm in my arm, one that takes all my strength to control. What if she’s just overly friendly and enjoys my weird company? If I do grab her hand, this could make it awkward between us. Then again, what if she’s waiting for me to make a move? But she knows what type of person I am, surely she’d know I couldn’t do such a thing?

  I close my eyes, trying to block out the many doubts that swarm my mind and replace them with good outcomes. I can do this, it’s just a hand.

  Suddenly she sits up straight, spooked by something. “It’s Dee.” She murmurs, her voice monotone. “She needs to speak with you. Urgently.”

  Searching the long stretch of beach, I ask. “Where?”

  Interrupted by the ring of my mobile, I look down to see Darcy’s name flashing on the screen, and in a panic, I hit the answer button. “Mitchell? It’s me, Darcy. We need to talk. It’s about that ritual.”