Perennial

by Potter, Ryan

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “I’m scared, London.”

  “I know,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared. I’m scared every day. Vagabond says courage is being scared to death of something but confronting it anyway.” She pauses. “Trust your abilities, but don’t trust anything or anybody else.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thank you, London.”

  “I’ll say the last part again,” she says. “Don’t trust anything or anybody else. Anybody.” She stands, pushes her chair in, and grabs her clear plastic drink cup. “I know you’ll do great,” she adds, smiling and laying a hand on my shoulder. “Good luck.”

  “Here,” I say, covertly retrieving Aruna’s silver knife from my back pocket and palming the sheath as I offer it to London. “Take this. You’re the warrior. Not me.”

  “Actually, I think you should keep that,” she says, pushing my hand back toward me. “It might come in handy. Besides, my personal arsenal is good to go.” She winks. “Good-bye, Alix, but not for long. We’ll see each other soon under very different circumstances. I just know it.”

  I turn in my chair and watch London Steel exit Zeppelin Coffee. She moves with the confidence of a runway supermodel, the only difference between her and a supermodel being she doesn’t look like she has an eating disorder. What I find funny is that every male in here is basically foaming at the mouth as they watch her leave.

  Chapter 12

  A small yellow envelope with my name written on it in black marker waits for me on the driver’s seat of my Explorer when I leave Zeppelin. There’s no sign of forced entry into the vehicle, so I have no clue how the tiny package arrived. I check the back of the SUV to make sure nobody’s hiding there. All clear.

  I get in and start the engine, savoring the chilly air as the air conditioner cools the hot, sticky interior. The envelope is sealed. I press on it in different spots. It feels empty. I decide to open it using my thumbnail to break the seal.

  I don’t see anything at first, but as I poke my index finger around to widen the inside of the envelope, I see what looks like purple powder at the bottom. I adjust my glasses and squint for a better view. Sure enough, that’s exactly what it is: purple powder, about an inch of it, loose and dry. I waft my hand from the open end of the envelope toward my nose. The substance has no smell that I can detect.

  I freak for a few moments and reseal the envelope as I remember news stories about politicians and some of their staff people getting sick and sometimes dying from opening mail laced with poisonous powders. Thankfully, I feel fine after a few deep breaths, so I place the envelope beside Aruna’s knife in the beverage holder and drive home.

  ***

  I’m home before five, and the next few hours seem to last forever. Dad texted that he’d arrive home later than usual, meaning anytime after ten and before sunrise. Lewis texted that he has a car we could use, which is perfect, because if Dad’s working the Watkins case there’s a good chance he’s in or near Oval City and would recognize my Explorer in a heartbeat. I figure if we leave at eight we should be home by ten. Besides, I’m basically thinking of tonight as a scouting mission, a quick trip to get the lay of the Oval City land.

  I try doing math homework to pass the time, but that’s pointless because I keep looking at the silver knife and yellow envelope, constantly thinking about Aruna, London, William, and Lewis. The whole idea of school seems trivial in comparison to my emerging psychic abilities and my commitment to solve William’s murder.

  Despite the danger that awaits us in Oval City, I can’t stop thinking about how attracted I am to William and Lewis. I mean, William Weed is a ghost! It’s impossible to have a real relationship with a ghost! William can be my Dream Guy anytime he wants, but I need to try and push aside my thoughts about him and focus on Lewis. Lewis Wilde is real. He’s a living, breathing, beautiful, gorgeous, and godlike human. He’s strong and disciplined too. I respect him for getting himself clean and off of drugs when he was at the alternative academy as a freshman.

  I wonder what drug or drugs he was on. Cocaine? Heroin? Weed? Wait. Can you be on weed, or do you just say you smoke weed? Do you do weed, as in do drugs?

  God, Alix, you’re such an innocent person when it comes to illegal substances. Like using that term right there, “illegal substances.” Who says that besides cops? There you go. Dad’s influence again.

  Anyway, I bet Lewis got into a lot of fights when he was on drugs. I know there’s a body full of muscle beneath those long-sleeved V-neck tees he wears. I bet he looks amazing with his shirt off, maybe even better than William. Maybe.

  As crazy as it sounds, I start to think of tonight’s trip to Oval City as my first date with Lewis. I’d considered wearing some sort of basic disguise just in case we come across my dad, but now I realize I want to look as good as possible for Lewis. My heart felt like it was about to bust out of my chest when he called me sweet, beautiful, and wholesome in sixth hour today.

  I spend the hour between seven and eight doing something I’ve honestly never done before: trying to make myself attractive to a guy. I figure it all starts with the hair, but what can you do with short, spiky dark hair besides make it … well, short, dark, and spiky? So I ditch the hair and remove my glasses. I actually think my brown eyes aren’t so bad. I’m no London Steel, of course, but I make a note to ask Dad about getting me checked out for contact lenses. Until then the chunky black frames stay on my face, because life is one big, blurry movie without them. As for makeup, it’s out of the question: my face breaks out whenever I wear it.

  God, I am such a loser.

  My only real option for changing my appearance is clothing, and this is where I go to my closet and make a decision to try something new and very un-Alix-like. London looked absolutely stunning in her tight, stylish black outfit. I don’t own anything like that, but Mom bought me some things a few months before she died, things I’ve never worn. She was a big fan of denim, so I try on the faded denim skinny jeans she thought I would like—skinny jeans complete with strategically placed tears in the knees and lower thigh. They’re tight but surprisingly comfortable. I want Lewis to see that I actually have legs, and these pants definitely have a sexy fit. As for a shirt, I go with a dark denim button-up with long roll-tab sleeves, button cuffs, and a curved hem, leaving the top button undone just to remind him that I’m a girl. When it comes to shoes, I have to go with black Chuck Taylors, because I have a feeling running is common in Oval City.

  Lewis knows my dad isn’t home, so he knocks on the door at eight. He’s punctual. I like that. I slide Aruna’s knife into my back pocket, liking how the back hem of the shirt conceals the sheathed weapon. I open the door, and we stand there for a few awkward moments, the two of us staring at each other. He’s still wearing what he had on in school, but it doesn’t matter. With those hypnotic eyes, that dark, wavy hair, and pale, exquisite face, he can wear anything and look good. He steals a glance at my pants and then quickly returns his gaze to my face.

  “You look great,” he says. “Good call on the Chuck Taylors too.” He smiles and looks over my shoulder. “Are we leaving right away?”

  I’m speechless and feel like a fool for not inviting him in.

  “Oh, here,” I say, turning sideways. “I guess we have a few minutes. Come on in.” He leaves behind the smell of mint and a light soapy cleanliness. Perfect. I look outside to an empty driveway and street. “Where’s your car?”

  “Down the street.”

  “Why?” I say, the door closing behind me.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He stops and turns in the middle of the spacious living room. “I didn’t want your dad to see it.”

  “What if he pulled up right now?”

  Lewis shrugs. “Then I guess you’d have to hide me.”

  I stare at him and feel afraid of what I need to tell him.

  “Alix, it was a joke,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lewis, Aruna’s alive.”

  There’s a s
ilence.

  “What?” he finally says. “How do you know?”

  I tell him all about our encounter and fight in the parking lot behind Zeppelin, leaving out the psychic parts, including Aruna knowing I’m psychic and communicating with William. I also leave out the parts about Face having powers and me seeing Aruna’s inevitable death, although I do tell Lewis how awful she looked.

  “Do you know her family?” I say. “Is there anybody we can tell?”

  “Aruna’s older,” he says. “She’s at least twenty-two by now. I don’t know much about her. She was Willis’s girl, not mine. She’s been on the streets since she was a kid. Willis said she ran away from a sicko stepdad. I’m glad she’s alive, but it sounds like she’s Face’s slave.” He pauses. “How did she know you would be at Zeppelin?”

  “I have no idea,” I say, which is true, but I’m fairly certain Face had something to do with it. “But it looks like I have my weapon.” I withdraw the knife and show him before quickly tucking it back into the sheath.

  “Okay, this is pretty huge.” He rubs his forehead, Lewis thinking hard about something. “If Face sent Aruna to intimidate you, it means he’s afraid of you, which means you’re not telling me everything, because Face isn’t afraid of anybody.” He stares at me. “What are you leaving out, Alix?”

  “Nothing,” I say, hating the feeling of lying but knowing I’m not ready to tell him everything yet. As with Dad, if I start babbling to Lewis about psychic visions and a violent world of evil demons and courageous human warriors … Well, I’ll have no chance with him. “Maybe Face knows about my dad or something. Or maybe somebody in sixth hour heard us talking today and told Face.” I pause. “The Mercedes could have followed me and dropped Aruna off on the street as I pulled around back. That would have given her time to hide on me.”

  He considers all of that and seems to accept it. Good.

  “Okay, so what’s your goal tonight, Alix?” he says. “Why are we going to Oval City? Have you even asked yourself that question?”

  “Of course,” I say. “We’re going to Oval City in search of proof that William was murdered. Based upon that obscure blog post I came across yesterday, combined with what you’ve told me about William and today’s run-in with Aruna, I think Face killed William because William had information that could bring down Face.”

  “I agree,” he says. “But what do you expect to get tonight? Do you think you can just go around asking for Face in Oval City and find him? Even if you did, what then? Do you just walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Face, I know you killed William Weed. It’s time to turn yourself in’?” Lewis shrugs. “Look, I admire your courage and sudden determination to solve William’s murder, but you have to think things through. If not, you have a good chance of getting hurt. Or worse. Personally, I don’t see why you won’t tell your dad everything you know. Especially now with the whole Aruna thing.”

  I lose it and yell, “I don’t need my dad right now, okay, Lewis? Stop talking about him. Please!” He stares at me, expressionless, as I take a few deep breaths and finally calm down. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not saying we need to find Face and solve the mystery tonight. But I need to see what the area looks like. I need to know where William hung out. You know Oval City. I trust you to show me what I need to see. Nothing more for tonight.”

  “Okay,” he says, nodding. “That’s better. I can do that.” He raises his eyebrows and clasps his large hands together in front of his waist. “You ready to go?”

  “Yes,” I say, nerves already rocketing through me. “But there’s one more thing you need to see.” I point toward the kitchen behind him. “Somebody put a present in my Explorer when I was in Zeppelin. It’s on the kitchen table.”

  I follow Lewis into the kitchen, where he picks up the yellow envelope and gives me a look before opening the flap and examining the contents. Seconds later he closes the flap, drops the envelope onto the table, and backs away. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look afraid.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Looking quite vulnerable, Lewis says, “Alix, the thing about being a recovering drug addict is that you’re a recovering drug addict for the rest of your life.”

  “That purple powder is a drug?”

  “Oh, it’s a drug,” he says. “But not just any drug.” He points at the envelope. “The purple powder in that envelope is more addictive than cocaine, meth, heroin, or anything else I’ve ever tried. I’m surprised I was able to beat it. Most people get hooked the first time they try it and never quit. That’s what happened to Willis, Aruna, and who knows how many others around here.” He shakes his head. “They couldn’t beat it, and it destroyed them.” He looks at me and says, “Whoever gave you this wants you to try it. They want you hooked too. So you have to promise me you’ll never try it.”

  “I promise,” I say. “Lewis, I’ve never done drugs in my life. I’m not about to start now, especially with something like that.” I study the envelope. “What’s it called?”

  There’s a long silence.

  Then Lewis says, “That purple powder keeps Oval City and Face in business. Rumor is Face invented it, but nobody knows for sure.” He takes another step back, as if the envelope might come to life and attack him. “You wanted to know what Perennial is,” he says, studying me and pointing toward the envelope. “Well, Alix, you’re looking at it.”

  Episode 3

  Chapter 13

  “A drug,” I whisper to Lewis. “Perennial is a drug.”

  “Bingo,” Lewis says, still eyeing the kitchen table as if it’s a violent monster. “And the stuff in that envelope is pure. I can tell by the color and texture. People started calling it Perennial on the streets because the high lasts so long, like a permanent high. And it’s such a good high you want it to last forever, which means you have to always have more. Boom. You’re addicted before you know what hit you.”

  “Perennial,” I say, recalling the definition. “Permanent. Present at all times.”

  “Face is the kingpin,” Lewis says. “He’s got a monopoly on something that’s about to go viral. Last I heard, the only way to get genuine Perennial is to buy it in Oval City, which means if they took the trouble to put it in your car, Face or somebody is afraid of you.” He walks toward me and does something that both surprises and thrills me. He takes my hands in his own and stands less than a foot away. “Alix, I’m going to be honest and tell you that part of me wants to snort everything in that envelope right now, which is why you need to take it and flush it down the toilet. Can you do that for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Like, right now,” he adds, giving my hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them and heading to the safety of the living room. “I’ll meet you outside. We need to leave.”

  When he’s safely out front, I do exactly what he asked and flush the small yellow envelope full of Perennial down the toilet of the first-floor bathroom. The purple powder reminds me of grape Kool-Aid as it swirls and disappears down the porcelain bowl.

  ***

  “So what does it feel like?” I say. We’re hustling down the sidewalk to wherever Lewis parked his car. The night air is cool but humid, the street quiet on a Wednesday night. “The Perennial high, I mean. What’s it like?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” he says, scanning the neighborhood. “What’s the greatest physical feeling you’ve ever had?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I feel good most of the time. I suppose you could say I enjoy a natural high.”

  “Come on, Alix.” He groans.

  “What?” I say, nudging his elbow with my forearm. “I’m not very exciting that way, okay?”

  “You have a knife in your back pocket that you took away from a girl who was trying to stab you. I’d say you’re exciting.”

  “Well,” I say, smiling, “that might be true, but you’re looking at somebody who doesn’t drink, smoke, or do drugs, remember? I don’t know what any of that stuff feels like.”

  “Fair
enough,” he says. “Then what was the happiest moment in your life?”

  “Hmm,” I say, thinking. “Not to sound corny, but the happiest moment in my life was probably two years ago when I took a summer trip to Niagara Falls with my parents.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” he says, laughing.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Wait a second,” Lewis says. “Two years ago? You were in high school and went to Niagara Falls with your parents?”

  He continues laughing, but in a sweet way that makes me smile.

  “I know,” I say. “It’s not very teen-angst-like of me, is it? Look, what can I say. My parents are pretty awesome.” Lewis’s laughter fades to silence. He is surely remembering that my mom is dead. “Have you been there?” I say. “To Niagara Falls?”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. “The falls are huge—even bigger than they look in pictures. People say the Statue of Liberty always looks smaller in person. Niagara Falls is the opposite. There’s this tourist boat called the Maid of the Mist that takes you right up to the falls. They give you a plastic poncho to wear, and you need it because the mist really does soak you. Anyway, there was this moment on the boat where I just stopped and watched Mom and Dad’s mist-covered faces as they took it all in and smiled at each other. I’d always known they loved each other deeply, but the looks of happiness on their faces that day made me so happy to have them as parents.” I feel warm tears rolling down my face and wipe them away. “Then Mom and Dad looked at me looking at them, and we all laughed and shared this incredible moment. Nobody said a word, but the feeling of love in our family on that trip is something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.” I wipe more tears away. If Lewis notices, he doesn’t say anything. “It was the last time we took a trip together. One year later she was gone.”