Poppy felt the frustration begin to claw its way out of her. She had just brainwashed another human being, and yet no one would ever know. She wanted to go up to the next ghoul and denounce them as some pathetic pretender. She wanted to whip off the next black witch’s hat and shout out to all of them that she was the real deal. She wouldn’t, though. She couldn’t tell them, just as she couldn’t stride into Ember’s coven and introduce herself either. Both were too petrifying a prospect. Suddenly Poppy felt sick of her own cowardly company. She longed for someone she could talk to, someone who would understand, so she stopped, just for a minute or two, outside the pharmacy where Leo had told her he’d first set eyes on her.
She searched for him, all around, in the costumes, through the masks. And then she saw his face, undisguised like her own, watching from a doorway. Poppy turned and walked the other way.
She knew, of course, he’d walk after her, that he’d catch up with her and pull her arm to stop her. She didn’t know, though, that she would be so angry. She hadn’t realized it was a fight she had wanted all along.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed.
Leo let go of her arm and immediately she wanted it back there, hurting her.
“You were looking for me.” He sounded angry too.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“Don’t pretend. I saw you . . . you were looking for me.”
Poppy stared into his eyes, so dark they were frightening. He put his hands on her shoulders, then her arms. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered.
She saw the uncertainty in his face and wished it away. Then his hands were in her hair, cupping her head. He was about to kiss her. She thought of Ember and it hurt so badly.
“I hate you.” She said it and then ran.
Poppy’s father came in the door around ten in the evening and Poppy didn’t ask where he’d been. She could guess, but even so, it would sting to hear about his Halloween evening with his son.
“You don’t have to come back, you know,” was all she said.
He just grunted and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Her dad was watching a scary movie when the gang of kids arrived so that, at first, Poppy thought the blood-curdling screams were from the television. Then there was laughter, the sound of a trash can being knocked over, more screaming, and Poppy’s name being called, over and over.
“Poppy Whoo-whoo-hoo-per!” Like a ghost.
“What the? . . .” muttered her dad and he went to the window and opened the curtains.
Out on the street they stood, all in masks—devils and Frankensteins, warlocks and werewolves, witches and zombies, ghouls and grim reapers. Poppy saw her dad’s face harden. He looked at her but didn’t say anything. Instead, he strode to the front door and opened it.
“Trick . . . trick . . . trick . . . trick . . . trick . . .” came the chants.
“Get lost, you hear me?”
“Trick . . . trick . . . trick . . . trick . . . trick . . .” they continued ceaselessly.
“Right, that’s it. I’m calling the police.” He slammed the door and looked at Poppy. “Who the hell are they?”
“They’re wearing masks.”
“I can see that, Poppy. Who are they?”
Poppy swallowed. The chanting carried on, getting louder and louder.
“I don’t know. Could be any of them.”
Poppy’s father shook his head despairingly. “Can I get the police involved now?”
“Just ignore them. They’ll stop eventually.”
Her father said he’d give them fifteen minutes. He and Poppy sat next to each other on the sofa, the television on mute, listening to the noise from outside, hearing the neighbors shouting and swearing at the unruly trick-or-treaters. Poppy shut her eyes and willed the gang to stop. I can do this, she told herself. I can hypnotize people. I can make books fly. I can summon rats. Make fire. Start a storm. I have the power.
Then, suddenly, the window smashed behind her and she was the one screaming and her dad was clutching hold of her as she cried.
That night Poppy stayed at Donna’s house. Donna came to the door in her nightgown, looking far more ordinary than Poppy remembered. She told Poppy to be quiet so as not to wake Logan. So that is his name, thought Poppy. As she crept into the kitchen, she noticed traces of her father there. His newspaper on the table, a pair of his shoes in the corner, a tie slung over a chair. It felt like this was his real life, his time with her just pretend.
The house was small and Poppy slept on the sofa. In the morning she woke to Logan poking her in the side.
“Who are you?” he said in a voice husky with sleep.
“I’m Poppy,” she said.
“Did you sleep over?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Cool,” he replied, and his serious little face broke into a big grin.
“Is . . . is your dad here?” Poppy asked, squirming at the awkwardness.
“He’s gone to work. He doesn’t live here much.”
Poppy pulled her legs off the sofa and sat up. “I’m sorry about that,” she mumbled.
“Not your fault,” he said so simply that it made her want to cry.
Poppy sat at the table with them, the three of them eating from matching bowls of cereal. It had been a long time since she’d eaten breakfast with anyone.
“Do you want to see some magic?” Logan suddenly piped up.
“Okay, sure,” said Poppy.
“Quickly now, Logan. You’ve got school to get to,” reminded Donna.
Logan rushed to the other room and came back with a pack of cards. He held them open to show Poppy, then put them in a neatish pile on the table, wiping aside some spilled milk with his hand. He got Poppy to cut them and turn them over, then do it again.
“Now I’m going to get rid of all the upturned cards,” he told her.
Poppy watched as his little hands grappled with the deck until he found the card that was facedown and held it up to her proudly.
“This is your card. Memorize it.” Logan paused for a moment. “Now I am going to read your mind,” he said dramatically.
Poppy glanced at Donna, who raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Logan shut his eyes as though thinking hard. “It’s the queen of diamonds.”
Poppy nodded. “Wow. You are a real magician.”
“Do you want to know how I did it?”
Poppy smiled. “Isn’t that a secret?”
Logan shrugged and Donna interjected, “Next time.”
“What? Is she coming again?” Logan asked excitedly.
“Of course,” Donna told him, and then she caught Poppy’s eye. “If that’s what she’d like.”
“My dad’s a magician too,” Logan beamed. “He taught me that trick.”
Poppy tried to keep the ache she felt from reaching her eyes.
“Maybe he can teach it to you,” Logan suggested sweetly, and Poppy got up from her chair and started to clear the table.
At the door Donna took Poppy’s arm. “Your dad’s worried about you, Poppy,” she said in hushed tones. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me about it, but . . . look, we don’t want you to get hurt.”
“A little late for that,” Poppy retorted, then regretted it immediately.
Donna let go of her arm. “He’s had a lot to deal with, your dad.”
Poppy suddenly felt like crying. “I’d better go.”
“I didn’t mean with you, love,” Donna said quickly. “I didn’t mean that.”
But Poppy was hurrying down the path.
“Poppy!” Donna shouted after her, and Poppy turned.
“Are you even going to tell Logan who I am?” Poppy called back, and Donna turned around anxiously to see if Logan had heard. By the time she looked back, Poppy was running down the road.
When she got home, their living-room window was boarded up, and it made the whole house look busted, like something from a war zone. Inside it was freezing cold. Poppy k
ept her coat on. She could see her breath on the cold morning air.
“Dad?” she called softly.
There was no answer. Poppy stood still and listened for a moment. When she was sure the house was empty, she went straight to her room and started gathering any money she had, even the smallest coins. Then she stuffed a few things into her bag and ran back down the stairs to the door. When she opened it to leave, she found Ember standing there, her eyes big and scared in a face that looked paler than usual.
“I’ve run away.” It was only when Ember spoke that Poppy understood she was real, not some strange apparition. “I can’t live there anymore.”
Ember moved toward Poppy, arms outstretched for a hug. As Ember held her, Poppy was surprised at how good it felt to have that contact, how the hurt that had been chilling within her melted away in its warmth.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so,” Ember declared, pulling back to look at Poppy’s face. Then she noticed the bag on Poppy’s arm. “Where are you going?”
“Running away,” Poppy said jokingly. Ember looked confused and Poppy sighed. “I’m going to see my mother.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They sat on the train, Ember gripping the edge of her seat. She had taken hold of it when the train started moving and it hadn’t occurred to her yet to let go. She was too busy staring out of the window at the passing landscape, her brain hardly registering the new sights before they’d gone and been replaced by another and another and another.
“I’ve never gone so fast,” she uttered to her reflection in the window.
“It’ll go even faster soon,” Poppy told her.
“Faster than this?” Ember marveled, not believing it possible, but Poppy was right, and soon the hills were flashing past them and Ember couldn’t look anymore—it made her head hurt.
“So why are you running away?” Poppy finally asked.
Ember felt a little nervous about answering. For as Poppy had led her through the town to the train station, pointing out the various landmarks in a voice that expressed her low opinion of them, Ember hadn’t confessed she’d seen them before. She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so reticent about admitting to her evening with Leo. She guessed Poppy might feel aggrieved. After all, Poppy had been the one to find her and teach her, to open her eyes to the world beyond the camp. In truth, Poppy should have been her guide that night, not Leo. So Ember kept quiet, and now her omission felt more like falsehood and the idea of that made her squirm in her seat.
“Are you okay? You’re very quiet today.” she heard Poppy say, and she broke out of her reverie to look up into Poppy’s inquiring eyes.
“My mother—she’s so angry with me.” Ember hung her head, wishing she was quick-minded enough to come up with some other reason for having fled the coven, but her ears were still burning from the grilling Charlock had given her. Ember wondered now how she could ever have been so stupid to leave the camp for a whole night and not expect her mother to notice.
Poppy was looking at her sympathetically. “I know you’re close with your mom, but that’s what most parents do—tell their kids off,” she said kindly.
“I broke the rules.”
“So?” Poppy was smiling.
Ember shut her eyes. “It is forbidden.”
Poppy sensed what was coming. Ember felt her withdraw, her smile vanishing and her face becoming serious and still. “What’s forbidden?” Poppy asked quietly.
Ember took a breath. She couldn’t lie. She had no magic, no sleight of hand or tongue, no illusions up her sleeve. Only the truth.
“I left the camp one night. I went to the town—with Leo.”
She waited for Poppy to say something, but she didn’t. The silence was too unnerving. Ember had to fill it.
“I saw the streets with all their different names. He told me where you lived. Twenty-five Wavendon Close. He showed me everything. Oh, Poppy. It was wonderful. So big, so bright, so—oh, I wish you had been there.”
“Do you?” said Poppy flatly.
And Ember realized that she had done it after all. Lied.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Poppy said coolly. “You’re allowed not to miss me. You’re allowed to live your life any way you want.”
“What if you don’t know what you want, though?” Ember whispered.
Poppy wouldn’t or couldn’t answer that.
Ember thought of all she had been blessed with—the sisterhood of a treasured friend, the comfort of a mother’s love, the thrill of a boy’s attention. She had never imagined she would have to choose between them. She looked out of the train window and felt the speed and saw the space that went on and on, further than she ever knew. The cities were as dense and vast as her forest but stronger and taller, so much taller even than the highest tree. It made her want to retreat back to the clasp of the coven. There were no choices there. It was too small and tightly knit for that. She felt sewn into the fabric of the camp, attached, and the further away she traveled, the more the stitches pulled and she could feel them fraying from her heart.
“Is that what you do?” she asked Poppy at last. “Live life how you want?”
“I’m trying,” Poppy answered.
“And Leo?” Ember questioned.
“I think you should ask him that,” Poppy said plainly. “It isn’t easy. Life with no clan.”
A man came down the narrow passageway between the seats, pushing a cart before him. From it Poppy purchased two soft, silver bags full of the thinnest fried potatoes and two drinks that fizzed from cans. It was like eating salt and drinking sugar, but it made the rest of the long journey feel better.
They walked for a long while to reach the hospital. The air was different so far from home, more contaminated with particles that Ember didn’t recognize, and warmer too. Winter didn’t seem so ferocious here. Ember saw some plants that were still flowering and many trees that were still clinging to the last of their red and golden leaves. There were none of the chalky gray and purple hues of the hills at home. Even the green of the grass seemed more primary.
The hospital, though, was the whitest place Ember had ever seen. It smelled sour and unnatural. Poppy went to the desk and gave her name. They had to wait for a while on a row of chairs, each one stuck to the next. Finally a woman, clean and stiff, showed them into a box that raised them up—an elevator, Poppy called it—until the number three in the list shone red. They walked along a hallway lined with identical doors, then suddenly stopped at one of them.
“She’s sleeping,” said the woman quietly.
Poppy nodded, seeming unsurprised even though it was still day.
Ember followed Poppy inside. In the bed lay a body, the face turned away so all that could be seen was light hair, fair and gray, fanned out upon a pillow. Poppy sat in the chair beside the bed. She put her finger to her lips as a sign for Ember to stay quiet. Ember moved quietly across to the window and stared out at the garden behind the hospital where people wandered aimlessly in white robes, drifting across the walkways like ghosts.
“Are you real?” The voice was croaky, as if unused to speaking.
Ember turned and saw a face staring at her, pale and drawn, but with eyes that shone like patches of blue sky among the clouds.
“Mom?” said Poppy from the other side of the bed. “It’s me.”
Ember could see that the woman heard Poppy but chose not to turn.
“Come closer,” she said to Ember.
Ember did as she was told, and the woman’s arm darted out from under the covers, grabbing Ember’s hand and pulling her closer. She peered up at Ember’s face.
“Mom! What are you doing?” Poppy jumped to her feet.
“You are real,” the woman whispered to Ember, still ignoring Poppy. Her eyes blinked and blinked, as though not trusting it to be true, and then her face lifted with emotion and Ember realized she had once been young and very pretty. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” The woman smiled.
Ember felt a shiver
ripple through her. The hairs on her arms were standing on end and she felt freezing cold. She wanted to get away but didn’t know how to break free.
“I’m Ember,” she said softly. “Poppy’s friend.”
She tried to pull her hand away gently, not wanting to do anything sudden. Poppy had no such caution. She leaned over and tugged sharply at her mother’s arm. “That’s enough. Let go of her now.”
The woman just held on tighter. “It’s my little girl.”
“Mom, listen to me. It’s me, Poppy. I’ve come to visit you.”
Poppy spoke slowly, but her mother was still looking at Ember, addressing only her. “You’re here at last,” she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Poppy bent over her mother’s bed. “Mom, this is Ember. You’ve never met her before. You remember me, don’t you? Poppy? Dad moved us away, but I’m back to see you. Like I said I would.”
“My daughter!” Poppy’s mother wept, more tears falling now.
Poppy perched on the edge of the bed. “That’s right. I’m your daughter.”
Poppy’s mother shook her head vigorously and turned, for the first time, to look at Poppy. “No. No, you’re not.”
The woman raised herself up to look directly back at Ember, her eyes penetrating into her. Then she let go of Ember’s hand and pointed a thin, delicate finger straight at her.
“She is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Leo felt like his heart would burst out of his chest. His lungs were burning and his throat was gulping down air in loud, rasping breaths. He leaned over, hands on his knees, worried they would hear him. They’d spotted him by the park. The first Leo knew of it was his stepfather’s voice barking across the street. Leo hadn’t even turned around. He’d just sprinted as fast as he could, dodging lampposts and cars, people and strollers. He took sharp turns and shortcuts down side streets and alleys. He jumped down steps and leapt over railings. When he couldn’t hear them thundering after him anymore, he dashed onto the railroad line and climbed up onto the platform. Shielded by the commuters in their suits and their open newspapers, he held onto his legs to keep himself from collapsing and prayed he’d lost them.
The Hawkweed Prophecy Page 19