Lizard crouched at the end of the sidewalk, watching me with those lidless eyes. I glared at him. “She’s not going to let Rourke get home, is she?” The lizard didn’t react—just crouched like a statue in the snow. I stood, pulling myself out of the swing, and walked over. “We don’t stand a chance against her, do we?” I told Ansul. “Look what happened to Betsy, when she got in the way. If the banshee wants me dead, all she has to do is whisper in my ear!” I groaned in frustration, looking for a response from the lizard. He gave no indication that he had heard my tirade. The tiny amulet on Ansul’s collar was the only thing that moved—it twisted and turned in the wind.
I put my hand over the matching amulet at my throat. The wind picked up my hair, twisting the curls in every direction. The courtyard looked ominous in the disappearing light. Every shadow could be the banshee, waiting for me. I hurried to the door, not wanting to be alone anymore.
I walked inside, ready for a hot shower and maybe some mindless TV. On the couch was draped a dress—the one from the secondhand store that I had admired. The evening light shone through the window, making the dress look mossy-green one moment and burnt-orange the next.
“I knew that dress was yours when I saw you looking at it in the thrift store.” Aunt Avril stepped into the living room. She held the slippery skirt out. “I’ll have to alter it, but I think it will make a fantastic Irish dance costume.”
“You bought this for me?” I hugged Aunt Avril, sandwiching the dress between us. “I love it!”
I ran my hand over the fabric, loving how the autumn-toned skirt fell from my hands in heavy waves of silk. Away from the cluttered store, the dress looked even more elegant. Clusters of beads gathered at the bustline above a perfectly placed velvet ribbon that lined the fitted bodice.
“Can I try it on?”
Aunt Avril motioned to her bathroom—not really a bathroom at all, but a corner of the small apartment, sectioned off by a beaded curtain. I pulled the curtain shut, eager to feel the silky fabric on my skin.
“Where is your mom tonight?” Aunt Avril asked.
I spoke through the curtain. “She took Zoey with her friends to the ski hill to go sledding.”
“Didn’t you want to go?”
“I had dance.” Another day I would have gone up after class, even if only to babysit Benji and drink hot cocoa in the shack, but today I wanted to lock myself in my bedroom. Except that Aunt Avril’s couch didn’t exactly qualify as a bedroom. “Did you find out anything more about Betsy?”
“The police have named Mrs. Saddlebury as a person of interest, but they haven’t tracked her down yet. Betsy was found in the Saddleburys’ yard. I can sense the violence around the mansion, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Betsy got in the banshee’s way.”
Whoever owned the dress before me must have been taller, but the torso followed the lines of my body perfectly. Fabric swished around my ankles with a whisper. I rubbed the silky chiffon sleeves where they touched my fingertips, reveling in the feelings of excitement and fulfillment imprinted within the fabric.
I stepped out from behind the curtain, pulling the amulet out from beneath the bodice of the dress.
“Lovely, my dear.” Aunt Avril spoke around the pins in her mouth. She circled me, pinning and measuring. “I’ll have this finished in time for the feis.”
“You’re a seamstress?”
Aunt Avril winked. “I’m a woman of many talents.”
“That’s for sure. Are you . . . do you sew better than most people?”
“I sew most of my own clothes.” She held up the edge of her vest.
“I mean, do you sew like my mom cooks?”
“Ah, I see what you are getting at.” She placed the last pin and stepped back to look at me. “That’ll do. Take it off now, and I’ll hem it.”
When I brought the dress back to Aunt Avril, she was sitting at the kitchen table lacing orange thread into a sewing machine. She took the dress from me, and I stood behind the chair, waiting for an answer to my question.
Aunt Avril laughed. “I’m no better at sewing than anyone else I know. Here, sit.” She found the pins and cut lengths of the fabric from the dress. I held a remnant in my hands. “Your mother’s gift is not in cooking. It is in her sense of smell.”
My mother’s nose, powerful? It didn’t sound glamorous. “You mean she can make things smell good?”
Aunt Avril stopped cutting. She handed me the pins. “Skill that is at first glance insignificant can be the most dangerous when overlooked. A sense of smell can evoke memories, overwhelm or calm, and even be used as a weapon.”
“A weapon? How, exactly?”
“Smell isn’t only about odor. The nose can discern cold and pain as well. Let me show you.” Aunt Avril opened a cupboard and ran her finger down a row of vials, each with a different-colored label. Picking a red one, she unscrewed the lid. “Smell.”
I inhaled. A cool, minty fragrance filled my sinuses. I wrinkled my nose.
“What do you smell?”
“Peppermint?”
“Right. Now smell it again, but this time don’t dwell on how it smells, concentrate on how it feels.”
A whiff of the peppermint oil tingled my flared nostrils, making me cough.
Aunt Avril nodded. “That’s pain you are feeling. It’s not intense now, but if I could increase the sensation ten times, or a few hundred times, you would be begging for relief.”
“So Mom can make other people smell things? Is that why her candy business does so well?”
“One of the reasons. Maggie’s like you—not only can she sense with her power, but she can project it onto others.” Aunt Avril turned the dress inside out, sticking pins to form a hem.
“Does the power work better on some people, and not others?”
“Probably. Have you been practicing?”
“Sort of.”
“And is it working?”
“Not really.”
Aunt Avril let the dress fall to her lap. “Without faith there is no power, and without power there could be no reality.”
“You mean I have to believe that the emotion is true in order for it to work?” It made sense.
“I told you she would understand.” Aunt Avril waved her hand to Theron’s shrine near the door.
I stopped Aunt Avril’s arm as she reached for another pin. “If my mom’s power is as intense as you say, then why doesn’t she use it for more than cooking?” Aunt Avril didn’t answer, and when she continued to stare at the photo of my uncle, I wondered if she had heard me.
“Aunt Avril?”
Her eyes snapped to mine, and she took in air as if she had been underwater, holding it until she surfaced. “Yes, dear, I heard you. Your mother has chosen not to develop her skill for anything other than culinary pursuits. Even now, she’s cautious.”
“There must be some reason why she kept her ability a secret from me.”
Aunt Avril rolled her eyes. “I suppose you ought to know.”
She had my full attention now. I slid my chair closer to hers.
“Growing up, we loved our visits to Grandpa’s dairy farm. Maggie and I mucked through the cow fields in our boots, played house in the empty silo, and chased after the peacocks until they dropped their feathers for us. The only bad part about staying with Grandpa was our cousin, Brock. He was a year older than me, and such a tease. Whenever we adventured on the farm, Brock would sneak up on us and ruin our fun. Looking back now, I’m sure he wanted us to include him. But to us he was a pest.
One rainy afternoon, Grandma gave us some hot buttered rolls and shooed us into the loft so we wouldn’t be underfoot. We didn’t want to share the rolls with Brock. Maggie came up with an idea to keep him out of the loft. She gave Brock a desire to smell the rain.” She inhaled as if she could still smell the pungent rain.
“We played in the loft for hours, never imagining that it might be dangerous for Brock to stand out in the storm. Grandma said she tried to get him to com
e in the house, but he wouldn’t leave the hay field. He stood alone, smelling the rain, a beacon for the lightning bolt that struck him.”
I pictured my mother trying to hurt someone on purpose, and failed. I was sure it was an accident. But someone got hurt, and all because Mom used her power on another. I could see now why she didn’t want to use her powers.
“Did he die?”
“No, Brock was in bed for weeks, and Maggie spent all of her time at his bedside until he recovered. She didn’t want the responsibility that the power gave her.”
I’d never thought of my power like that—a responsibility with dangerous potential. I’d thought about trying to influence Josh. Not much, just a tiny bit so that he would be willing to listen to my side of things. I rationalized that it wouldn’t be wrong because he would be glad to hear what I wanted to tell him. But now I decided it would be taking away his right to ignore me.
Aunt Avril folded the dress into a neat square, the pinned hem on top. “I’ll finish the rest tomorrow. We’d better get dinner started. Everyone will be hungry when they get home.”
I picked up stray threads, balling them together in my hands. “Will Mom be mad that you told me?”
“Definitely. But she’ll get it over it.” Aunt Avril winked. “She always does.” Aunt Avril slid me a paper with a number written on it. “Crew’s number at the FBI,” she said, motioning for me to pick it up. “Keep it close. Just in case.” I picked up the paper and tucked it away in my satchel.
“Onstage now is the slip jig trophy special. All two-hand specials please check in backstage.” The announcer’s voice echoed in the gym.
I searched the backstage area, a knot forming in my stomach. I hadn’t seen Josh yet. He didn’t have to come early this morning for the solos, like the rest of us, but I’d thought he would come at least an hour early for the duet.
Maybe he wouldn’t come. I shoved the thought away. Josh would come. No matter what he thought of me, he wouldn’t leave me partner-less.
My own solos had gone better than I had expected. Leah had somehow slipped me in at a higher level than most beginners, and I’d made it through all of my dances without messing up. One first-place and three third-place medals were tucked into the side pocket of my dance bag. My results were lower than I wanted, but for my first feis, I couldn’t complain. Rourke and Leah were pleased.
The other duets were showing their pinned-on numbers to a woman with a clipboard. I wasn’t worried about checking us in—I’d already done that. But Josh and I needed to be lined up, onstage, in twenty minutes, and I still needed to change out of my beginner costume for the duet. I made my way into the hall.
A line for the girls’ bathroom snaked down the hall. I bypassed it and sought out a smaller, less popular restroom. Shedding the black skirt and jumper that marked me as a beginner, I slipped into my dress for the duet. I stroked the silky fabric that clung to my waist, wondering if Aunt Avril really did sew magic into it. Changing from my beginner outfit into the filmy costume made me feel beautiful and confident. When I turned my head, the tiara, a gift from Leah, sparkled in the light.
I was washing my hands when the door burst open and Taminy stumbled into the bathroom. Her eyes were red, and black mascara ran a trail down one of her cheeks.
She stopped when she saw me, and then darted into a stall.
My first instinct was to hurry out and pretend that I didn’t notice that she had been crying. Then Taminy sighed, and I couldn’t leave her there.
Taminy emerged from the stall, a wad of toilet paper in her hand. She walked to the full-length mirror, pulling her arms out of her solo dress. A white tank top kept her cool, and she let the bodice of her dress hang over the skirt.
“Are you ok?” I asked, moving closer to where she stood.
Taminy whipped her head up—her eyes were filled with tears. “How would you feel if you blew your last chance to qualify for the regionals?”
I stepped back, surprised by the despair in her voice. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but obviously it was important to Taminy.
Taminy hiccupped. “The thing is, I don’t want to compete at the regional competition.” She looked at me as if she expected a response.
“That’s good then, right?”
“I don’t even want to dance, but if I don’t keep advancing, my mother will quit paying for my violin lessons.”
Now I was floored. Taminy didn’t like to Irish dance? I never would have guessed.
“Mother was good—a three-time World’s qualifier, even. But my grandparents couldn’t afford to go overseas for the competition, and she never got her chance. I think she wants me to win so that she can go to World’s.”
I watched a show once about mothers who pushed their daughters to perform in pageants. Some of them made their little girls compete against their wills. I guessed that life for Taminy had been similar.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t imagine putting in all of the work to get the dances perfect if you don’t enjoy it.”
“It’s not so bad.” She wiped under her eyes with the tissue. “I don’t mind it most of the time.”
“Will you still be able to play your violin?”
“I’ll ask Daddy. If I throw a fit about it, he’ll keep up my lessons.” She smiled, and it was the first time that I saw Taminy’s smile reach her eyes.
The door opened and two little girls burst into the bathroom, each of them with several medals hanging from ribbons on their necks. Reel music floated through the open door. “I have to go,” I said.
The smirk returned to Taminy’s face. She eyed where my costume brushed at the backs of my calves, and slipped back into the arms of her own solo dress. “Don’t trip.”
I remembered the first time I’d ever seen Irish dancing, when Taminy soaked my ballet costume. Not much had changed, but at least she was being civil, which was more than I had expected, coming from Taminy. “Thanks. I hope your dad lets you keep your violin.”
I ran back to the gym, hoping that Josh would be lining up. Girls in vibrant dresses filled the backstage area. I could see the other duet groups stretching and going through their dances. Still no sign of Josh.
The violinist played a toe-tapping reel, and the audience clapped along to the beat of the dancers. Our duet would be next. My heart beat in double-time to the music. Before the feis, I’d been nervous that I wouldn’t be able to dance to the live musician, but Rourke had assured me that a reel was a reel, no matter which reel the violinist chose.
I peeked through a slit in the curtain that had been suspended down the middle of the gym floor. A temporary dance floor had been taped down over the basketball court to form a stage in front of the bleachers. The adjudicator sat at a table near the front of the stage. She stared at the clock, not at the dancers lined on the back of the stage. She had been judging all day, and probably hoped that the specials would get over quickly.
The bleachers were filled, and the crowd’s energy rolled over me in a wave that clenched my stomach. Next to Mom and Benji, Zoey lay with her head on Dad’s lap. Zoey had danced earlier that morning, earning the first feis medals that all beginners won. Aunt Avril caught me looking at her and waved, never pausing in her conversation with Mom.
I stepped around dress bags and shoes scattered around the floor, and spotted Leah and Rourke near the far wall, with Josh kneeling beside them. When Josh straightened from tying his shoes, I caught my breath.
Aunt Avril had said she would make something for Josh to wear for the duet, but I wasn’t prepared for how he looked. His shirt was a deep red, a perfect complement to the velvet ribbon that laced down my back. A black vest set off the tie Aunt Avril had made from the leftover fabric of my dress. Josh held one foot behind him in a stretch, pulling the muscles in his arms and chest taut. His eyes darted around the room, and he smiled at something Leah said.
But it wasn’t Josh’s costume that made me slow my walk and watch him from a distance. In that moment,
I truly saw what he meant to me. He didn’t love Irish dancing the way I did, but he was here, at a competition. For me. He knew me, with all of my failings, and still he stood with me—even when I took his friendship for granted. My heart swelled with the realization.
I walked through the crowd of dancers to stand beside Leah.
“Oh McKayla, you are radiant.” Leah embraced me.
Josh turned, and when he saw me his eyes widened.
“Hi Josh.”
The orange and the reds of his costume made his eyes deepen to a darker green, and in them I could see the approval I longed for. But he didn’t smile, and a moment later the connection was gone, replaced by the wall I wanted to break down between us. A sick feeling knotted in my stomach, and my nerves returned in full force.
Rourke strode over to us, his limp barely noticeable. He was dressed to kill in a black jacket and dark jeans, with an orange cravat at his neck. Leah stepped back when she saw him coming. He stood between Josh and me, resting one hand on each of our shoulders for a moment before he began to sign.
Josh looked to Leah for translation.
This is your time to shine. I want you to forget about the people out there watching. They don’t care whether you dance well or not.
Josh and I nodded. I didn’t know if Rourke’s words were supposed to get me excited or scare me to death. I noticed the other dancers sneaking glances at us, probably distracted by Rourke’s sign language.
Feel deeply. Rourke patted his chest and looked me in the eye. Draw it from here, and pull it out for all to see. He clapped Josh on the back and headed for the bleachers.
There were three other pairs getting ready to compete backstage. They didn’t look as nervous as I felt. One of the pairs stretched on the floor, their matching black dresses studded with crystals. The other four dancers practiced their routines, warming up muscles that were overworked from the earlier events of the day. Two of the girls wore their dance school’s dresses, adding cat-ear headbands for a costume, and the other two wore hats with spinners on top. Tweedledum and Tweedledee maybe? Josh was the only boy in this competition, and I smiled knowing that he was my dance partner.
Awakening (Book One of The Geis) Page 23