Alex wiped her mouth. “You projected us forward? Why didn’t you do the same thing last spring in Parrish when we went looking for Chase and Jonas? Why did we run instead?”
“Because I was following you that day. I didn’t know those woods. We can only project ourselves if we can see where we’re going. And I couldn’t really explain that to you then because we were in a hurry.” She spun in a circle. “Isn’t this cool? No one usually travels this far away from the buildings.”
“I can see why.” Alex glanced back at the mossy path behind them, wondering if she’d get too terribly lost trying to find her way home. Their company only included monstrous redwood tree trunks and the sounds of nature. Alex zeroed in on the squeaking of squirrel talk. They argued over which direction to travel. Alex wasn’t sure how she knew their language, but she did. “I might go back. I want to get my things ready for the workshops.”
“We have plenty of time.”
Alex couldn’t think of a legitimate excuse. Peeling the bark from a tree didn’t sound stimulating, and a trek through the forest didn’t help.
Skye’s face brightened. “Want me to show you something?”
Not really.
“A secret.”
Alex perked up. “Are you finally going to explain how you know so much?”
“Huh?” Skye stiffened. “No. It’s something here.”
Alex took in their surroundings: trees, bushes, plants, dirt, and pinecones. “No offense, but it looks the same as the rest of the forest.”
“Wait.” Skye lifted a finger to her lips and moved soundlessly through the brush.
“How do you find this tree without anything to mark where you are?”
Skye stopped. “This stays between us, but the first time Duvall sent me to find the bark she needed, I got lost.”
Shocking.
“She didn’t send me again until it was an emergency. And she gave me a landmark.”
Alex glanced left to right. “I think you missed it.”
“No one knows it’s out here because they don’t need to look for it, and likewise, I don’t think it tries to be found. Come here.” She waved a hand, urging Alex to follow. She used her other hand to push aside a few branches, revealing a misplaced, red-brick pathway. It began from nowhere but weaved through parallel aisles of large T-shaped, gray flowers. The flowers stood in rows, as still as gravestones but as loud as the dead.
The flower field rose into a hill, creating the illusion that it marched straight up to the sky. At the edge of the hill was a square entryway made of stone. It interrupted the beauty of gray crosses and stared at them with its sharp, black eye.
“How do you feel?” Skye asked.
“What?”
“Tell me what you feel when you look at them.”
“The flowers?” Bemused, Alex turned back to the field. At first, her cynicism hindered her senses, but she focused on the symmetrical rows. The clouds lingered low, thought-bubbles of puffy white.
She sensed so many different things at one time, yanking her mind in so many directions. She felt the comfortable fatigue after finishing a task. She felt the gratification of winning first place. She felt the humility of accepting defeat gracefully without regret. She felt the dissatisfaction of a bittersweet ending and the promise of meeting someone new. She felt the heartbreak of losing someone special.
Skye watched her, nodding.
“I feel …” Alex felt the emotions swirl around her, pulling her back and forth at her elbows, “… full.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“What is this place?”
“I tried to ask Duvall about it once, but she told me that some things don’t need to be discussed. When I’m walking through the woods, I wait until that feeling hits, and then I follow it. The tree we need is just past here.”
Alex didn’t want to leave. These sensations were fulfilling. “We don’t have go yet, do we? What’s in the cave?”
“No clue.”
The gray flowers shone like light behind stained glass, glinting despite the overcast of redwood shadows. She crouched down next to them.
“Have you ever picked one?”
“No way. I don’t know what they are!”
Alex gazed longingly at the T-shaped blooms, considering the risk.
“Come on,” Skye said. “The tree is back here.”
“Can’t we stay a little longer?”
Skye grinned, exposing a line of perfect teeth. “Oh! I thought you wanted to head back and spend some time stacking your books and practicing your handwriting.”
“Shut up.”
Skye held up the sack. “Let’s go. It might take a little while to peel this much bark.”
Alex bid goodbye to the field and trudged slowly after Skye. “Is this going to take forever?”
“Stop complaining,” Skye reprimanded, lifting her knees high to step through the plants. “You won’t even remember all the hard labor.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Alex swatted at tree branches.
“We’re peeling the bark from a tree that makes the mind forget. Trust me, you won’t remember.”
Alex couldn’t decide if that made the task better or worse. She knew Thymoserum tricked people into forgetting what they saw. It was how the spirited removed things they needed from the bodied world.
“We’re almost at Eidolon’s gate.”
Alex could sense the border before they reached it. It pushed against her like walking into the wind, cautioning her. Finally, she saw the withered grandmother of a tree wilting near the perimeter, stretching its knobby branches in through the gate. Even its thin, frail leaves wrinkled with age.
Alex ran her hand along the bark, which broke away easily like brittle bones. She pitied the tree. It begged to come inside, reaching out to them. “Will it hurt the tree if we take too much of its bark?”
Skye sat on a root, like a child on a grandparent’s knee. “I think she likes being needed. She wouldn’t stretch through the gate otherwise. The rest of them aren’t so willing.”
“The rest?”
“These trees are all around the perimeter. I think they were planted there so if people happen to get too close, they won’t remember.”
“You always take the bark from this tree?”
“Her branches are the only ones I can reach without going outside the boundary.”
The bars of the gate intertwined and zigzagged in a spider web pattern. Alex closed her fingers around a section of it, testing the durability. “Out of curiosity, do you know how to get through?”
Skye’s voice dropped. “Why?”
“So we can take bark from some of the other branches. That way, this side won’t be bare.”
“Yeah, I know how.”
“After I died, Ellington said he had to pull me through it or I couldn’t do it.”
“That’s only because your brain was limited at the time. You wouldn’t have believed you could cross through those bars even if he told you.”
Alex ran her fingers along the tough, cold gate. The crooked “bars” extended high above them and felt as strong as steel.
“Any spirit can get through if they know how,” Skye explained. “The gate has energy, like anything else, but you can feel the strength of it, right?”
“Is that to keep newburies from knowing how to go through it?”
Skye stuck her hand through the gate. “If that’s the case, they failed. It’s really easy to go in and out.”
“Is it safe?”
“In my opinion, we’re more at risk waltzing through that fishbowl of tourism in Broderick Square.”
“Good call. You know,” Alex cocked her head, “you kind of remind me of Jonas sometimes.”
Skye scrunched her nose.
“It’s a compliment,” Alex murmured, breathing deeply as a breeze rustled the leaves.
Skye touched her hand to the tree and her face clo
uded.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just a little tired.”
“Who?”
“The tree.”
“How do you know that?”
Skye shrugged, and Alex jutted her chin forward to show that she wanted a legitimate answer.
“I know how to listen. Stop looking at me like I’m insane.” Skye stepped backward through the gate, watching Alex the entire time. She appeared on the other side, grinning like a goof.
If she wanted to change the subject, she’d succeeded. Alex’s jaw dropped down into the moss below. “How did you do that?”
“I pictured myself walking through. And I did.”
“But I didn’t see you go through it. You appeared there.”
“Didn’t look the same in my mind. Walk through it, Alex. Sometimes you’re like a brand new dead kid. If you don’t believe half the things we do, and if you can’t see it in your mind, how the heck do you expect it to happen?”
“Chase calls me naïve.”
“You’re naïve enough to think this isn’t possible. Shift your mind enough to put you on the other side.”
Alex blinked, and in that split second she pictured her projection as a chess piece, moving from one square to the next. She found herself on other side of the gate, on the outside looking in.
“Whoa!” She grinned at her friend. “Are you gifted, Skye?”
“No!” She let out a brisk cough of humor. “No way. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time. You understand things, you know, kind of the way Professor Duvall explains them.”
“Not at all. Not gifted. I grew up with a bunch of tree hugging drug addicts. They were all different there. If I had the abilities of the gifted, I would have used that power to turn the rapist who murdered me into a beetle.”
Something fell at their feet. The impact was heavy, like bitterness. Skye had never given any details about her death.
“If I was magical, I wouldn’t have died. He lived in our colony for three years, and no one saw him for what he was. They had other things on their minds and in their bloodstreams, distorting life.” A branch lowered to her shoulder. She patted it. “There was nothing magical about my life.”
“After something like that, how are you so sweet all the time?”
“Because death is so much better.”
Skye’s seriousness felt foreign. Alex wanted Skye to go back to preaching about the properties of flowers and herbs and stones. She wanted her to throw her hair over her shoulder and giggle at the boys trailing behind her.
“I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours,” Alex offered.
“No offense, but your secrets hover over the heads of the newburies in the vestibule every morning.”
“Not all of them.”
Skye considered this. “Fine.” She spun on her heel.
Alex stared at Skye’s back. “Why did you turn around?”
“I can’t look at you while we do this.”
“Why?”
“Just because. You go first. I’m not sure you have a secret to equal mine.”
“I’d be offended by your lack of trust, but I know this will be worth your secret, so fine, I’ll go first.” Alex felt a knot forming in her mind, thoughts weaving under and over, through themselves, tightening in apprehension. “Chase and I can speak to each other in our minds.”
“Like how?”
Alex threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know how. We just can.”
“When you’re in the same room?”
“No. He could be across campus, and I can hear him. I can even see what he’s seeing if I want to.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“No kidding. Why do you think we kept it a secret?”
Skye still didn’t face Alex but reached out to peel some of the bark from the tree beside her. “You know, that explains some things, like why you guys sit and stare at each other, looking like you’re in mid conversation.”
Alex followed Skye’s lead and picked at the tree. She hadn’t realized she and Chase were so obvious. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Agreed.”
“Oh, this is silly, Skye. Turn around and look at me.”
Skye twisted with a pout on her face. “My secret has to do with pictures. They haunt me.”
“Pictures?”
“In my mind.”
Alex leaned against the tree and crossed her arms. She didn’t think this was worth spilling her guts. “Aren’t we all haunted by snapshots when our minds remember things?”
“I don’t see only the things my own thoughts have filed away. I see the things that objects have saved in their memories. See, you can rest against a tree and be at peace. When I touch something, usually whatever it is, the thing decides to speak to me.”
Alex watched as Skye crouched down and stroked the petals of a bright red flower. “A gray fox passed by here not too long ago. No more than a few minutes because it’s the first thing the flower decided to show me.”
“The flower?”
Skye nodded. “Some things are too proud, but most are more than willing. In class, I’ll sit in a chair and see the person who sat there before me, or I’ll see the teacher or the lesson. I get a lot of answers right that way. If I try hard enough, I can shuffle through several memories, but it’s tiring. Trees are the most willing to share. I think they get annoyed about not having an opinion. I couldn’t do this during life though,” she added. She lifted her palms up in defense. “I wasn’t gifted.”
“Have you talked to Duvall about this?”
“No. Considering the questions she asks me and the tasks she gives me, she knows though.”
Duvall always preached that everything had an energy and life of its own. Skye’s talent went hand in hand with such an idea.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Only you.”
Something settled between them, clicking like a key in a lock. “Secret’s safe with me.”
“Likewise.”
They stood regarding each other for several slow moments, and Alex enjoyed the feeling of solidarity.
“So trees speak the most, huh?”
Skye nodded. “Gossipers, yes.”
Alex touched the grandmother tree. “What about this one? Looks like she could have some stories to tell.”
Skye picked a piece of bark with her nails. “To tell you the truth, most of the time I’m scared to ask, but let’s see.”
She pressed her entire hand against the gray trunk. After a moment, she dropped her bag to the ground with a crunch.
“What?”
Skye spun around. “Don’t move,” she hissed.
“Very funny. Are you trying to scare me?”
Skye sucked in a large breath. “Shhhh. Do you smell that?”
Alex inhaled a lungful of ashes. It reeked of fire. Why? She saw nothing, felt no heat, sensed no danger.
Skye slapped her other hand to the trunk of the tree, muttering to herself. “How long ago was she here?”
“What do you see?” Alex insisted.
“A girl. Wiry hair. Ignited eyes. Energy around her. She’s looking for something. Her intentions are desperate.” Skye let out a loud curse. “She’s still out here! Get back through the gate.” She snatched Alex’s hand. “Come on! What are you doing?”
But Alex couldn’t move. Once as a child, Alex was so wrapped up in a game of capture the flag that she hadn’t noticed a copperhead snake coiled three inches from her foot. Its thick, scaly body pulsated as it watched her. Fear struck her, freezing her mind and trickling ice down her spine.
The same sensation struck her now as she felt tiny hands clasp her shin. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping it would go away. Whatever it was, it let go momentarily before wrapping its whole arm around her leg, and its hair brushed against her.
Alex opened one eye. Then, another. Lo
ok down, she commanded to herself. A barefoot toddler clung to her. Her white cotton dress matched her white, silky hair, which rippled down her back until it ended in a crashing of curls like the break of a waterfall. Alex stared at the child who stared right back.
“Pick her up,” Skye commanded.
“Why?” Alex cried.
“Because she’s stuck to you, and we can’t stay out here in the open.”
“Is she bad?”
“No. Pick her up.”
The child reached up, outstretching her short arms. Alex didn’t know what else to do but obey.
“The bodied can’t get through the barrier of the gate.”
Alex scooped up the girl and cradled her like a baby. “Can she get through?”
“Of course she can,” Skye spat. “Can’t you distinguish the dead from the living? No breathing child looks like that!”
Once they were safely on the other side, Skye stopped and grabbed hold of the interweaving bars, peering into the unknown.
“Are you sure there was someone?”
“It was one of the gifted.”
“Not her though?” Alex jutted her chin at the child.
“No. I already told you she’s dead. And you can put her down.”
Alex set the child on her feet.
Skye shivered violently, and her hair rippled like a curtain in the breeze. “I don’t think my body will ever abandon old habits.”
Alex didn’t understand why the gifted should be so feared. She thought of her friend, Liv, and her endless supply of jokes. “I knew someone gifted growing up, and she was ordinary.”
“Then you never saw her trying to do anything out of the ordinary.”
That was true. “Can you touch the gate or anything else to see if it saw her?”
“Good idea.”
While Skye played patty cake with nature, Alex surveyed the little girl in wonder, mesmerized. Pink cheeks glistened under a perfectly sculpted nose. With her tiny hands, she tugged at Alex forcing her to crouch down. The girl reached to cup Alex’s face.
Skye ran her fingers through her hair. “Nothing. But the fog is rising, and that’s not a good omen.”
The girl nodded empathically.
“We’d better go talk to Duvall,” Skye said.
But by the time they passed the field of gray crosses and reached the frozen creek, they couldn’t remember what had frightened them. They knew they hadn’t completed their task, but they didn’t know what had scared them enough to make them leave. They scratched their heads and wracked their intelligent brains, but each time they opened the bag to see that it was only half full, the haze of forgetfulness deepened.
Of Delicate Pieces Page 6