by Debra Doxer
“Finish your picture, Penelope. Mommy wants to give you a bath when you’re done.” Kyle tugs playfully on her hair as he walks by. She chuckles in response.
It’s a bright morning. A warm breeze pushes cottony clouds across the sky. I follow Kyle to the sidewalk, and he begins a slow stroll once I reach him.
“Is this about Lucas?” he asks.
“No, actually, it’s about my grandmother. Didn’t Chloe tell you?”
He nods quickly. “Right. Yes, she did.”
“I’d like to see her.”
“Chloe said Angela told you she was dead?” he asks, his distaste for our mother obvious in his grimace.
I nod.
Kyle shakes his head at our mother’s lie. “I can take you to see her if you’d like, but you can’t really have a conversation with her. She may not even realize you’re there.”
“I’d still like to go.”
“Alright then,” he says, watching a car drive past.
“Were you close to her?” I ask, fearing the twinge of jealousy that’s waiting if he answers yes.
He thinks for a minute before answering. Then he shrugs. “Not really. She’s a hard person to get close to. She was never the stereotypical grandmother who baked cookies and sewed sweaters.”
“What was she like?”
“She was something of a social butterfly. She had a lot of friends. She always had people around her. Our grandfather died a long time ago, back when Angela was still here. So, Gram lived alone, but she always had her house filled with her friends.”
“Has she been in the nursing home long?” I ask.
“About two years now.”
“Did she know where Mom was? Did she know about me?”
He sighs. “No. She didn’t know any more than we did.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, feeling the familiar frustration welling up inside me. “Why would she make me believe she was all the family I had?”
Kyle stops, and I realize that I’ve stopped, too. He places his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know, Raielle. I wish I did. I’m sorry for what she put you through.”
I take a step back to break our contact. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. She loved me, Kyle. In her own massively messed up way, I know she did.”
He rubs a hand over his face. “You don’t want to say anything bad about her. I admire you for that, for your loyalty. But you might have to face the fact that she kept you away from here for her own selfish reasons.”
“What reasons?” I ask, trying to control my sudden temper.
He eyes me sympathetically. “We may never know the answer to that.”
I want to yell at him that he’s wrong, but I swallow the words along with the tears that are threatening to form. Kyle has his own reasons for hating her, but somehow, I just think he’s wrong about this.
My mother always told me that we only had each other in this world and that we were the only ones that could do what we did, heal people. She said it was important that we tell no one. That was easy enough to believe when I thought it was just the two of us. But now that I know we had a whole family here that she never bothered to tell me about, I can’t help but wonder if she lied about our power, too. “Can we see her on Sunday?” I ask.
“Can’t on Sunday. Penelope has a birthday party and Chloe wanted a few kid-free hours to run some errands,” he replies. “How about Monday night?”
I nod, swallowing my impatience. “Okay. Monday.”
“Now, about Lucas,” Kyle begins. His serious tone tells me that this topic is not going to lighten the mood much. “I learned some things about his family last night.”
I immediately realize that the people from Lucas’s church talked to Kyle last night, which is exactly what Lucas had been afraid of.
“Did he tell you about his mother?” Kyle asks.
I shake my head. A part of me wants to stop him because hearing the information this way feels like a betrayal. But I want to know too badly to do that.
Kyle slides his hands into his pockets, and his eyes turn wary. “She’s ill, Raielle. That’s what Alec’s friends told us last night.”
I eye him curiously. “Ill? What does that mean? What’s wrong with her?”
He exhales loudly. “She’s mentally ill,” he clarifies. “I understand that she’s dangerous. I don’t think I want you exposed to her in all honesty.”
“What exactly did Alec’s friends tell you?”
“That people have seen her wandering around their neighborhood, yelling random things, muttering to herself. She stands up in church screaming that evil is inside her. She hurts herself and she wants to hurt her family.”
I’m staring at Kyle but I’m thinking back to last night, and to Lucas’s reluctance to tell me any of this. “What do you mean she wants to hurt her family?” I ask.
“She tried to burn their house down with all of them inside it.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“It was sometime last year, they said. She started a fire in the basement. Then she walked outside and sat down on the front lawn to watch. It was two in the morning. The rest of the family were asleep in their bedrooms.”
“Oh god,” I bring my hand up to my open mouth. “But no one got hurt, right?”
“A smoke alarm went off before it could spread too far. Lucas’s father was able to put it out. They sent her somewhere to get help after that. But she’s been back for a while and apparently nothing much has changed.”
I look away from Kyle, staring down at the uneven cracks in the sidewalk instead. My heart is breaking for Lucas. I had no idea he was dealing with something like this. He never gave any hint of it. But then it hits me. I wonder if I could possibly help her. I wonder if mental illness is like physical illness. This use for my healing ability is something I’ve never tried before because it never really came up. The closest I ever came was when I asked my mother if I could heal her addiction. She laughed at me, saying she’d been trying to do that for years and daring me to take a stab at it. I did, but nothing happened. There was nothing torn, or broken, or foreign inside her making her abuse drugs and alcohol. There was nothing to heal. Ironically, we couldn’t heal ourselves either. The reason had something to do with needing two energy sources, like some kind of Ying and Yang was required to create the necessary reaction. I never understood it mainly because my mother couldn’t explain it coherently, making me believe she didn’t actually understand it herself. I also didn’t understand how we could be the only people in the world with the ability to heal. That makes no sense. But I couldn’t exactly place ads in the newspaper looking for others, and Google was no help at all. But imagine if I could cure Lucas’s mother? If there were something in her brain that I could actually heal, simply touching her would tell me.
“I don’t want you going over there,” Kyle says stiffly, bringing my attention back to him.
I stare at him, slowly realizing that he’s giving me an order.
“He can come here and you can go places together, but I don’t want you in his house or anywhere around her. Do you understand me, Raielle?”
I want to laugh in disbelief at his sudden laying down of the law. I’m ready to protest and tell him how ridiculous he’s being, but then I think better of it. I’ve been running my own life for a long time. If he wants to think he’s taken over the job, I’ll go ahead and let him, only I’ll know better. “Fine,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t want to be unfair to Lucas, but he’s not my concern. You are,” he continues to explain himself.
I nod. “I get it. If what you’ve heard is true, I’m sure he’s not exactly rushing to invite his friends over anyway.”
“You’re probably right.” He runs a hand over his head before shoving it back in his pocket again, looking uncomfortable. Then he changes the subject. “Do you need a ride to work today?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll walk.”
When we get inside, I check my
phone. I have a message from Gwen, but no one else. I want to call Lucas, but I’m not sure I should. Pretending not to know about his mother doesn’t feel like the right approach. But if I do call him, what will I say? In the end, I decide not to call right now and to worry about it later.
Jacinda is a lapsed college student taking a year off to chill. That’s what she told me when she introduced herself as the owner’s niece and my fellow ice cream scooper for the day. I thought it was some kind of pun when she said it, but her oblivious chattering told me otherwise. I quickly realized that she could make conversation with the wall if I wasn’t here.
“My boyfriend is driving down tonight, and I might need to leave a little early if that’s okay with you?” she says when we’re barely a half hour into our shift.
“Um, okay.” I answer, realizing that as the owner’s niece, she takes liberties.
“I got a new tattoo as a surprise for him. Would you like to see it?” she asks. She’s attractive with long wavy hair that she has pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her skintight jeans reveal the kind of curves that guys go nuts for. Next to her, I probably look exactly like the beanpole people called me growing up.
I hesitate. “That depends. Where is this tattoo?”
She cackles at me. “Relax. I’m not going pull down my pants or anything. It’s right here.” She approaches me, lifting the edge of her black T-shirt up over the side of her torso. There, looking red and angry, is a scab-encrusted tattoo of a panther spanning her side with its head reaching toward her bellybutton and the tail whipping back toward her spine.
“Wow.” I wince even as I’m admiring the artistry of it. “That looks like it hurt.”
“Like a bitch,” she laughs.
“What’s the significance of the panther?”
“It’s a hellcat,” she says. “That’s what my boyfriend calls me.”
“Ahh,” I nod, not sure I’d want that nickname, but whatever.
“You never got back to me.” The door to Scoops swings open, causing the cool air from outside to waft in.
I turn to see Gwen, dressed in what looks like a plaid schoolgirl outfit, walk up to the counter. “I know, sorry. Jacinda, this is my friend, Gwen.”
Jacinda gives her a little wave. “I’m going to restock the toppings,” she says. Then she disappears into the back.
“So?” Gwen asks impatiently. “How was your date with Lucas?”
Just then, the door opens and a couple of tween-aged girls walk in. They’re talking to each other and texting at the same time. Gwen waits while I scoop their cones and ring up their totals. Once they’re gone, she eyes me expectantly.
“It was really nice,” I say, and I can feel my cheeks heating.
“Oh my god! Look at you. It was better than nice.”
I smile at her. I’m sure she doesn’t know about Lucas’s mother or she would have told me.
“So, what exactly did you do?” she asks, resting her arm on the top of the counter.
“You want me to kiss and tell?” I tease.
“Is that all you did? Kiss?” she raises her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes. It was our first real date. All we did was kiss.”
“And how was that?” she asks, appearing disappointed that more didn’t happen.
“It was memorable,” I hedge. I’ve never really had girl talk like this and so far, it’s not a great fit for me.
“Uh-huh and if you fell off a cliff, you’d probably say hitting the ground stung a little,” she giggles, laughing at her own joke.
I shrug with a smile, thinking that it’s a good comparison. Free falling off a cliff is a perfect way to describe how I felt when I was kissing Lucas.
“So, since it’s only Saturday, are you guys going out again this weekend?” she asks, lowering her voice as Jacinda reappears with tubs of candy.
“No. I don’t think so. I haven’t talked to him since last night.”
“Want to come over then? We can get a movie or something?” She’s eyeing the Oreo cookie topping that Jacinda is pouring into a glass container.
“Sure. Um, would you like an ice cream, Gwen?”
She turns her attention back to me. “What? No, I’d better not. This job of yours could get dangerous if I come in here too much. I’ll pick you up later.”
I decide to call Lucas on Sunday afternoon. I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off on Friday night, but that wasn’t so long ago. I really hate that I’ve been staring at my phone, wanting him to call. My gut is telling me that if everything were fine, he would have called. But my head is saying that’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other very long. We’re not at the chat every day stage. But I do have a good reason to get in touch with him. I want to tell him that Kyle is taking me to visit my grandmother after school tomorrow. When I get his voicemail, I hesitate for a moment before saying, “Hey, it’s Raielle. Hope you’re having a good weekend. Call me if you get a chance. I have some news.”
Then I go back to studying. The house is quiet. I’m the only one at home. Now, I watch my phone even closer, ready to throw the completely silent piece of metal and plastic out the window by dinner time. This time, I know something isn’t right, and with what I know about his mother now, I’m starting to worry. Since I don’t plan on stalking him at his house or asking Myles about him, there’s no way to find out what’s going on until Monday. Best case scenario, everything is fine, and I’m completely paranoid and obsessing far too much about him. This actually makes me smile. Who would have thought that I would be swooning over a guy? I’m usually known as some variation of the term ice queen in every school I attend. But somehow, Lucas has changed that. Then why is my gut churning, telling me that something is very wrong?
On the walk to school the next morning, there is palpable tension between April and Myles. She’s spouting one word monosyllabic answers to his attempts at conversation, and he’s giving up and giving into the silence as we make our way down the last block. I give them an impatient wave as I speed ahead into the building, making a mental note to ask Myles what the heck happened between them when I see him later. Lucas never did return my call from yesterday, and I’m feeling anxious at the thought of seeing him.
I beat him to first period, and I nearly cheer when Tucker arrives and sits across the room from me with the girl who usually talks to Lucas. I’m trying not to stare at the door when he comes strolling in. My heart immediately begins hammering when I see him. He glances up, catches my eye, and then looks away when I smile. My grin falters as I watch him survey the room, seeming uncertain about where to sit. Then some kind of resignation takes hold as he finally moves in my direction, taking the empty seat beside me, all without ever glancing in my direction again.
I grip my pen tightly as I realize my instincts were right. Not hearing from him after Friday night did mean something was wrong. Something like regret on his part maybe?
“Hey,” I say quietly to him.
His eyes shift toward me. “Hey,” he replies in a monotone voice, like he’s talking to the mailman.
“I left you a message,” I say, confused by his coldness. If he’s regretting what happened between us, he should say so, not act this way to me.
He nods. “Yeah, I got it.” Then he pulls his pen and notebook from his bag and keeps his eyes trained on them as he sets each one on the desk.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, ignoring the sinking feeling inside me and still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?” he responds, turning to me causally, before dismissing me again. That emotionless tone of voice is back and hearing it feels like a knife is piercing my heart.
I shake my head and laugh miserably at myself. I should have known better. Don’t form personal attachments because people always let you down. That’s how it works out every time. I should have remembered that before I tossed all my hard-learned lessons out the window for Lucas Diesel. God, I’m an idiot. One amazing mak
e-out session, and I’m ready to jump into a relationship with him. I was actually waiting for him to call me. I was expecting things from him. Well, if he wants to play it this way, he’ll get as good as he gives. He can run hot and cold if he wants, but from now on, ice cold is all he’s getting from me.
I spend the rest of class building up my resolve so that when the bell rings, I’m able to gather my things and head to the door as calm as can be. I don’t burst into tears when Lucas makes a beeline for the pixie girl, chatting with her, and taking no notice of me as everyone files out into the hallway. That’s how I survive the rest of the day, by pretending I’m fine even as the tears swim just below the surface. I ignore Lucas all morning and as far as I know, he never attempts to talk to me either. I sit and laugh with Gwen at lunch, never hinting at the knot of disappointment twisting inside me. I even grab Myles at the end of the day and ask him what’s going on with April.
“I met someone,” he says with a hesitant smile.
I raise curious eyebrows at him.
“He works at the pet store where we get DJ’s food. He started last week.”
“DJ?” I ask. “You have a dog?”
“Turtle,” he says.
I chuckle, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve had all day. “You have a pet turtle?”
He appears offended. “I have an aquarium. Turtles are great pets. They’re quiet and you don’t have to walk them. They don’t eat much, either.”
“Well, that’s great, Myles. I’m happy you met someone,” I say, and I mean it. He’s a genuinely nice person. Nice people deserve to be happy. Too often it just doesn’t work out that way.
“April disagrees.”
“What was her reaction when you told her? Did she have any idea?”
“Actually,” he hedges, “I only told her that we should see other people.”
This shocks me, and I can’t help feeling disappointed in him, in all guys for that matter. “You should tell her the truth. If she honestly has feelings for you, you owe her that.” I hitch my bag up onto my shoulder, completely annoyed now. That causes me to say something I hadn’t intended to. “By the way, the warning you gave me about not stringing Lucas along? You gave it to the wrong person.”