I slowed as I neared her block. Approaching her house, I turned the music off and scanned the area. The street was empty. There was a faint light in the living room, and I could see the flicker of a TV in the front window. A dog barked in the distance but went silent as I walked onto her lawn. The flowering trees mingled with the fresh, Colorado air, and the scent was incredible. I crawled up under the maple.
And I felt her.
Chemicals released in my brain and flooded through my nervous system. My shoulders released and the vice on my skull dissolved. I was addicted to this kid before I’d even met her face to face. Her energy combined with that of the maple tree was pure bliss. I wanted to dig down into the dirt like a vampire and just hibernate there until life made sense again. But I wasn’t, and I couldn’t. So instead, I dropped down on the grass, using my bundled-up sweatshirt as a pillow.
There’d been a light mist earlier, but it was dry underneath the tree. The sky was crisp and clear, highlighting the full moon. The stars were brilliant—a “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” night. The little Shadow’s energy enhanced everything. Before long, I was totally high on it all. The grief I’d brought from home dissipated into nothingness. I lay there for about an hour, maybe two, just basking in relief.
Then a light went on in back, and I heard talking…laughter. It was followed by the wailing cry of a violin. The artist rocked, and the music streamed out into the otherwise silent night.
Of course I was curious.
Euphoria dampened down any caution the sober me might have had. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was up and lifting the latch on the backyard gate next door. The neighbor’s house was dark. Hugging the shadows, I crept along the outside of her fence. I found a spot where I could hide in the bushes and by standing on a rock, peer over the eight-foot fence.
I’d seen the tree house in the Life Magazine photo, but in real life it blew my mind. It was as if some giant just scooped up this cool, little cabin and plunked it high in the biggest oak I’d ever seen. A bridge connected the porch on the tree house to a second level deck on the main house. A soft, warm light cast a gentle glow on the porch and half way across the bridge.
That kid, Ipod, was standing on the bridge just wailing on the violin. God, he was good. Like a frickin virtuoso, he swayed back and forth into the light and out of it again, his arm moving, hair flying.
Then out bounced Lex in pink pajamas. She stared at the sky for a moment and yelled, “A.J., come see the stars.”
A jolt of excitement whipped up my spine. The focus of my life had become meeting this kid, and she’d blocked my every move. Of course, I couldn’t speak to her, reveal myself, stalker that I was—not then and there. But at least I could finally lay eyes on what I hoped was my salvation. What I hoped would help me put my life back together again.
“Hey A.J., what’s the hold up? I saw a shooting star,” Lex called.
I waited.
Then, I swear I felt her move—just move—a wave of heat deep down inside me. I knew the tree was heightening my senses, making them more powerful. It enhanced our synergy, and the strength of it drew me closer against the fence. The beating of her heart echoed through the wood…deep, strong, and sweetly disturbing. I’d never been this affected by any other Editor. Not even the Regents were this powerful.
I didn’t know what to think.
Within seconds, my own heart was following her rhythm, like she was controlling it. I stood there with my hand on my chest, listening, wondering, feeling. Then I sensed her turn around, felt it deep, like a ghost of her was inside me, running through my body. The sensation threw me off balance, and I had to step down off the rock to stabilize. I climbed back up immediately, grabbing the top of the fence to steady myself.
It was electric—better than the night before—like someone turned up the volume on everything good.
Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to a shape in the shadows, a ghostly blur on the deck above. She floated onto the bridge. At first, she was a silhouette in the darkness—no colors, no details. But when she got to the middle of the bridge, the light hit her, and I froze. I was completely unprepared.
She was…she was…I didn’t even have a word for it.
She looked like an angel in one of my mom’s Da Vinci art books…flawless skin and huge amber eyes. Her long hair blazed in the moonlight, silky, auburn ripples cascading softly over tiny shoulders. She twirled, her dress billowing around her like a cloud and her hair blowing in the breeze.
I just stood there…mesmerized. It was surreal, like in a dream.
Lex laughed and clapped, and the guy grinned and broke into a waltz. And when he did, the angel’s energy expanded exponentially and streamed out strong into the night. A wave of it flowed through me, and I almost groaned out loud with pleasure.
And the angel…the angel twirled for a moment in the moonlight. I held fast to the fence, my eyes never leaving her face. She smiled and kissed the guy on the cheek. He smiled back, never missing a beat. She hugged Lex and they stood looking up at the stars. She lifted a slender arm to point at the sky. And then she laughed, and I thought my chest would explode.
The wind picked up for a moment, blowing her gown against her, silhouetting her body in the moonlight. I sucked in my breath. This was no kid.
Time stopped.
At that moment, I got her. I totally got her. Who she was. Everything I’d read about her suddenly made sense. Hot girls usually flaunt it. They have more power than anyone does, and they use it too, to get what they want. The baggy clothes and the glasses were a disguise.
To experience the world as a Shadow without knowing anything about it and living a public life, that took unimaginable courage. To have gone all these years without anyone finding out, that took incredible fortitude. People thought she was a freak, but she was totally in control. She wasn’t depressed and screwed-up. She was laughing and smiling, and apparently her friends were devoted to her. This chick rocked.
I could have spent hours suspended in that moment, taking her in, just being near her. I had an iron grip on the fence, and I realized I’d stopped breathing. I sucked in a ragged breath and watched her every move.
“We should crash,” Lex said, finally, walking towards the tree house door. “Play something soft, Ipod.”
“It was the best night, ever,” the angel said. Her voice was soft and silky. She walked across the tiny porch and into the tree house, pausing in the doorway for one last glance at the sky. Then she smiled and…
The beauty of that smile took my breath away.
The kid picked up his violin and played a soft song. The combination of the music and the heartrending vision of the angel left me all kinds of confused. This was far more than just some pretty girl. I’d seen my share of pretty girls. This was something else entirely. Somehow, it engaged the Editor part of me. This girl had gotten into my head in a way I’d never felt before. All I knew was that I wanted to meet her, and not just so she could help me.
I wanted to know her.
I wanted to know everything about her.
A dog barked, and I scrambled back to the front yard, collapsing under the maple. I stuck the sweatshirt under my head and soaked up the remaining Prozac, pulling in every piece of it I could reach. I saw the loveliness of her face in my mind, and I soaked that up too.
What I’d seen changed everything.
I was too overwhelmed to analyze the ramifications of what I’d just witnessed. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think about anything at all. I just wanted to feel. I lay there feeling, until the predawn glow warned the sun would soon be creeping over the horizon. Then I sprinted home and snuck into the house.
I was glad I stayed out all night. Obviously, no one missed me. I could paint myself purple and walk naked into the living room, and no one would notice. Maybe I could sleep all day Saturday. Maybe I could sleep the whole frickin weekend away. Maybe I could just lie in bed, think of her, and drown out the critic in my head. How many mo
re hours did I have till fourth period, room 217?
How the heck was I going to make it through the weekend?
“Wake up, guys. Sam made pancakes!” Ipod shook me.
I sat up quickly. “No way!”
“Way! Believe it or not, ladies, Sam is in the kitchen cooking up a storm,” he grinned. “Pancakes. Blueberry. With sausage.”
“Yeah, right, Ipod. That’s not a nice thing to tease us with,” Lex grouched sleepily, pulling the covers over her head.
“I lie—I die,” he returned. He was fresh from the shower, and he shook his hair like a wet dog on Lex, covering her with drops of water.
She kicked out at him. “This better be good, Ipod, or I’ll have your head for breakfast.” She crawled out of her bunk, sticking her feet into her slipper boots.
I smiled. So Sam was having a good stretch. That really made my day. He had them every once in a while. I got up and kissed Ipod on the cheek. Then I pushed him out of the room so we could change.
Lex had the outfit she’d picked out for me the day before, laying at the foot of my bed. I eyed it warily. She stood there, hands on her hips, waiting for my protest. I didn’t want to break the streak of “good” so I put it on.
“This is awful clingy,” I said, hesitantly.
She handed me a lightweight, waist-cropped hoodie, knowing I couldn’t do it cold turkey.
“Where are my glasses?” I asked, searching.
“I hid them,” she said smugly, pulling on her own clothes.
“I need them.”
“For what? You have 20/20 vision.”
“I‘m exposed.”
“Get over it. Seriously. Look what it did to Sam to see you out of your shell last night.”
Right, play the guilt card. Surely my fugitive clothing wasn’t what kept him sick. Jeez, if it would fix Sam, I’d walk to school naked. Okay, maybe not naked…but what if that fixed him? That was stupid. No one was making me choose between Sam being okay and having to walk to school naked. What a dork! Still, images of me walking around school with nothing but glasses made me shudder. I’d have nightmares for weeks.
“Earth to A.J.…”
“Oh, sorry…my brain got off on a really stupid tangent. Glasses,” I said, deleting the horrific images from my mind.
“Got it covered.” She handed me a pair of trendy sunglasses.
“I don’t know…” I tried them on and looked in the mirror. They covered the eyes of the girl in the mirror, but they didn’t hide her face. My regular glasses were a mask. They hid my identity. “I don’t know if the teachers will let me wear these in class. Mine are…well they’re supposed to be regular glasses, just tinted, because of my ‘eye problem.”’
“They’re perfect,” Lex said, putting them on me. “Transition lenses. You can do this. Besides, this is just a test run. We’re just going to the mall.”
“Guys, food!” Ipod yelled out the kitchen slider.
Lex made me twirl so she could see the whole package. “You’re going to like this new guy, and I want you to look good when you meet him. I have plans.”
“I just want to know if he’s like me,” I said. “The last thing I need is a guy. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with one.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see….” She grinned at me suggestively.
“You, Ipod, Sam, and saving this house,” I said adamantly, “are all I care about.”
She just smiled as if she knew a secret. Whatever. I was already on overload. I didn’t need more complications.
We climbed down the ladder and crossed the yard to the scent of hot maple syrup. Ipod was right. Sam had a huge stack of pancakes on the counter, sausage on the stove, and the table was even set. The yellow kitchen seemed sunnier somehow. Sam was freshly shaven, wearing a blue shirt I didn’t recognize. He was even drinking actual coffee from his mug.
Had hell frozen over? Were pigs flying around the room? I raised my eyebrows at Lex and Ipod. Lex shrugged her shoulders, and Ipod grinned and snagged a sausage. They smelled heavenly.
“Morning, Sam,” Lex stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “This smells yummy.”
“Morning, Sweetie,” Sam said, beaming at her. “Good morning, Autumn.” He held out a plate and kissed the top of my head.
I took the plate, trying to move past speechlessness.
“Killer sausage, Sam,” Ipod said, building a bridge across my awkward silence.
“Yum, pancakes,” I said, finally, sitting down at the table. It was all a little unsettling…nice, but still…
Sam brought plates for Lex and Ipod, and then one for himself. I doused my pancakes with actual hot maple syrup. I couldn’t remember Sam eating a real breakfast in years—not since before. I picked at my food nervously, but Lex and Ipod attacked theirs. Even Sam seemed ravenous.
Me, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You look exceptionally lovely today, Autumn,” said Sam, with his mouth full.
Lex winked at me. “See,” she mouthed.
I knew she was trying to snag me into the collective delusion that things were fine, that this was just another Judy Blume moment in our sweet, little Hallmark life. I smiled warily at Sam and took a breath. Who was I to argue with Hallmark?
Delusional or not, we needed moments like this. I couldn’t believe that the simple change, okay, massive change in my appearance had so much power. I debated bringing up the house, but no way did I want to wreck the moment. Whatever it was, I wanted to hold on to the good while I had the chance.
Suddenly I was hungry, not just for the good but for the food itself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had pancakes. I shut the paranoia closet and dove into them. Ummm, spongy, buttery maple infused my mouth with flavor. I closed my eyes, melting into the sweetness. I inhaled the savory smell of sausage and the sound of my family talking and…
“Most excellent breakfast, Sam,” I said. I smiled at him.
He smiled back and reached over and touched my cheek like my mom used to. Lex hooked her ankle around mine under the table and swung it back and forth. Ipod ate enough to feed an army. And we all sat around the table, stuffing our faces and beaming at each other.
Like a real family.
Too bad no one was filming it, because we could have been a freakin Hallmark commercial. At least for that moment in time.
I sent this text to my friend, Daniel, who was the drummer in my band.
Am still hating life. The weekend sucked—you don’t want to know how much. If there was a suck-meter, it would have exploded.
This came back: Bummer to be you, man. Every time I bang my drums, I send up a shout for you to the guy upstairs, because you be having some God-awful luck. He needs to give you a break. That’s what I think.
I could just see him sitting there, size twelve’s on the cluttered coffee table. He’d be thumbing away on his phone and bobbing his head to some reggae tune in the background. His wiry, black braids would be poking out every which way, and his drumsticks would be within easy reach. The only flaw in this picture was that he was in Seattle and not here. I really missed having him around.
I sent this back: You have no idea.
Daniel: You need to meditate, man. You need to get in touch with your inner self. Play some music. I miss that sweet, mellow bass of yours. The band’s not the same without you. Come on home, man. You can bunk with me…finish high school. You gotta do that, man. The music. Come home for the music.
Me: No can do, Daniel. I can’t leave them alone. It’s mad crazy here. I’m the only sane person in the house.
Daniel: And you’re questionable at that.
Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Daniel: Hey, I live to serve.
I tossed my phone on my desk and cracked the door a couple inches to assess the situation. Devon’s game blared full blast which meant Mom was probably hiding in her bedroom. Dad had gone to the office early, even though it was the weekend. Predictable. He couldn’t handle
warzone. Devon really knew how to clear a room.
I shut the door. At that point, I was holding on by a thread. It wasn’t pretty. I needed to find a way to deal with the fact that I was now treeless. Normally, I was good at storing energy. A hit like I got at the Shadow’s house would hold me for a week…a month. But lately, I didn’t seem to be able to hold on to anything. I’d jogged home from her house, feeling all warm, and buzzed and rejuvenated.
But the minute I opened the front door, the desperation hit me. Now, my skin crawled and I was amped up. Not even music could mellow me out. As the hours went by, it only got worse and worse. The good me and the screw-up me warred all weekend long. The good me wanted to not be frickin spying on her. But the screw-up me just wanted to feel better. The critic lectured nonstop about being a stalker. Intuition told me I was out of control.
But I didn’t cross the line into the back again. Even I have my limits. Well, except for the one time, but since then I’d stayed behind that frickin line. I compromised by basking in the energy that escaped into her front yard, telling myself I was just relaxing from a run, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was bad enough I kept ending up at her house like some heat-seeking missile. As soon as I soaked up enough calm to think straight, I left.
The rest of the night I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Then I’d limp home exhausted, fall into bed, and sleep the day away. I knew it was cheating, tapping her energy to get me through withdrawal from my redwood.
But I was desperate.
The weekend lasted a month. I don’t think I took a shower until Sunday night. I don’t remember eating the whole weekend. Of course, no one noticed that I didn’t shower or eat. No one bothered to find out if I was still alive. No one noticed that I slept all day.
Dreaming.
Playing the video of her in my head…over and over and over and over.
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