Winter Falls

by Nicole Maggi

  He snorted and dumped a forkful of hay into the stall. “I guess that’s true.”

  “But you know,” I said, “my teacher applied for a grant to take us to Paris next spring. So if we get to go you’ll have to tell me all the cool places to visit.”

  He kept baling without looking at me. “I didn’t spend much time in Paris. I lived in Provence.”

  “Oh.” I leaned against the door. “What’s Provence like?”

  Heath paused. He closed his eyes and smiled, seeing something that I could not. “Purple.”

  “What?”

  He opened his eyes. “Purple. With all the fields of lavender.” He went back to his baling. “Have a good day.”

  That was Heath. More interested in hay and goats than human beings.

  I slipped out of the barn and headed across the yard to the back door. Once inside the kitchen, I set the basket of eggs carefully on the counter. “Morning.”

  “Buongiorno, cara mia,” Lidia sang out and snagged two eggs from the basket. She cracked them into the hot pan on the stove and scrambled them into the beginnings of an omelet. “Would you like spinach in yours?” she continued in Italian.

  “No, just cheese,” I answered her in Italian. Lidia always spoke Italian in the mornings, as though her brain didn’t awaken to English until later in the day, and it was a good chance for me to practice.

  “A growing girl needs her spinach. Come on, just a little bit. For the vitamins.”

  “Okay. Just a little.” I slid into a chair at the table. Truth be told, I hated spinach, but it wasn’t worth arguing. Lidia was stubborn. “Hey, Mom, I found something weird in the basement when I was down there last night.”

  “Oh?” She tossed the spinach into the omelet, along with a sprinkling of goat cheese, and folded it in half. “Che?”

  “I’m not sure—some kind of amulet or something.”

  A sharp intake of breath made me look up from the table. Lidia’s gaze hardened on the frying pan.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “It had a card attached.”

  “What kind of card?” She had switched to English.

  “Like a tarot card.” I bit my lip and watched her slide a spatula beneath the omelet, then deposit it on a plate next to the stove.

  She kept her head turned away until she brought the plate to the table. By then her features had been rearranged into a placid smile. “It was probably something your father or his parents put there,” she said and sat in the chair next to me. “Mangia.”

  “The card was in Italian,” I said. I didn’t touch my fork.

  “Your father spoke Italian,” Lidia said and became interested in a pull in the tablecloth.

  “But why would he write on the card in Italian?”

  Lidia pushed away from the table, went to the counter, and picked up the basket of eggs I had brought in. “Then maybe it was something I put there when I first moved into the house.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, picking up my fork. I shoveled a big bite of omelet into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “So what are the Benandanti?”

  The crash shook me so violently that I almost fell off my chair. All the eggs I had gathered lay smashed on the floor around Lidia’s feet, and she stood with one crushed in her hand, its broken yolk dribbling down her forearm. I met her eyes for an instant before she looked away, and I saw a darkness there that I had not seen since the night at the hospital when my father died.

  I grabbed the roll of paper towels off its stand and knelt on the floor next to the yolky mess. The eggs seeped through the paper instantly. I laid another layer of towels down.

  “I cannot believe I did that,” Lidia said and crossed to the sink. “No, leave it; I don’t want you to be late for school.”

  I rocked back onto my heels, the ball of sodden paper towels dripping in my hands. “But what are the Benandanti?”

  Lidia slammed her palms against the edge of the sink. “Dammit, Alessia, I don’t have time. This house was built two hundred years ago, so who knows who put it there? And now I have this mess to deal with—and . . . just get to school. Bene?”

  I stared at her. Lidia rarely lost her temper. “Bene. Sorry,” I muttered and tossed the towels in the trash.

  Lidia cleaned up the mess in silence while I ate the rest of my omelet.

  I still didn’t know what the Benandanti were, but I was certain Lidia did and that she was determined to keep me in the dark.

  I met Jenny on the walk to school. The high school was about a mile away at the edge of town, but I liked to walk, even when the weather grew cold. The fresh air, tinged with the scents of salt and sea, was so much better than the smelly bus.

  “What happened to you last night?” Jenny asked as soon as she saw me. “You totally disappeared.”

  I told her about the scene with Bree and Jonah outside the coffee shop. “It sounds like their father moves them around the country every few months. That can’t be fun.”

  “Yeah, but it’s no excuse to act the way she did.” Jenny grinned and poked me with her elbow. “But forget her—tell me about Jonah.”

  I shrugged, trying to ignore the flip-flop my belly did when she said his name. “There’s nothing to tell. We said about five words to each other.”

  “Come on, Lessi,” Jenny whined. “Now’s your chance to get back at me for going on about boys for years and years. And all you can come up with is five words?”

  I laughed. “I promise, if something more happens, I’ll get my revenge.”

  We turned up Main Street; the school was in sight from here.

  “Maybe he’ll be in some of my classes today.”

  “One can only hope.” Jenny sighed and linked her arm through mine as we approached the school.

  Outside the shabby brick building that served as Twin Willows High, grades eight through twelve, kids sat at the low cement wall that bordered the lawn, soaking up the morning sunshine before we were forced indoors for the greater part of the day. Students poured out of the buses in the parking lot and congregated into the usual groups: the band and drama geeks, the Goth crowd with their hairstyles that Lidia would never consent to, the cheerleaders and their jock boyfriends.

  Jenny and I met up with Carly and our other good friend Melissa. We weren’t the most popular kids in school, but we weren’t the least, either. Soon a group of boys surrounded us, and I pressed my back against the large oak tree that shaded the grass. I wasn’t half bad looking, but next to Jenny with her long legs and mass of golden hair, pixie-cute Carly, and curvy Melissa, my wild brown hair and overactive eyebrows paled in comparison.

  It suddenly occurred to me that since I worked in the office first period, I might get to catch the Wolfes when they registered for classes. I said good-bye to the girls and headed to the office.

  Sure enough, two dark-haired figures were clearly visible through the large office windows, alongside their red-haired mother. I tucked my flyaway hair behind my ears and opened the office door. “Good morning,” I called out, and the secretaries answered in a choral return.

  Principal Morrissey looked over Mrs. Wolfe’s shoulder at me. “Ah, good. Alessia, you can help me register the Wolfes.”

  Bree turned and narrowed her eyes at me.

  I gave her a wide smile as I edged my way around the counter, keeping my face turned away from Jonah until I stood next to Principal Morrissey. My neck ached with the effort of not looking at him.

  “Good morning,” I said to Mrs. Wolfe. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Yes, lovely to see you too,” Mrs. Wolfe said mechanically. Her eyes sunk into the shadows that ringed them, and there were little cuts on her lips, as if she bit them too often.

  “Alessia is one of our top students,” Principal Morrissey said with his trademark toothy smile. “She’s won almost every award for creative writing in the county. She’s a junior, the same as Bree and Jonah.”

  I usually hated it when Morrissey used me as the poster girl for the
school, but when I slid my gaze down the counter to Jonah, I didn’t mind so much. A little butterfly lodged itself in my chest. He was just as gorgeous as he had been last night. Our eyes met for the shortest of seconds.

  “How can I help?” I murmured to Principal Morrissey.

  “Copy out their schedules,” he instructed, setting two blank schedule sheets in front of me. “Our printer still isn’t working,” he added apologetically to the Wolfes, then left me to deal with the paperwork.

  I massaged my breastbone to quell the fluttery feeling and adjusted the glowing green screen of the computer at the edge of the counter so I could read Bree Wolfe’s schedule clearly. My stomach dropped when I saw that we had virtually the same schedule.

  An idea popped into my head. I glanced around; Mr. Morrissey was talking to one of the secretaries, and no one could see my computer screen. I swallowed and tapped on the keys, pulling up Jonah’s schedule. It was completely different than Bree’s; I’d dealt with twins before, and their parents usually liked to keep them separated. My fingers flew over the keyboard. In less than a minute, Bree’s schedule had become Jonah’s, and Jonah . . . was now in almost every one of my classes.

  Heart thumping, I copied out Bree’s new (and improved, in my opinion) schedule and handed it to her.

  She snatched it and stomped out of the office.

  I cracked my knuckles in an attempt to stop my fingers from shaking and clicked back to Jonah’s schedule, although I could have written it out from memory. “You’re in a lot of my classes,” I said without looking at him, afraid my eyes would give away what I had done. “I can help you catch up, if you want.”

  “Fortune favors the brave.”

  I raised my gaze, expecting to see sarcasm written on his face, but he was just staring at me, his eyes hooded.

  “That might be very helpful.”

  I swallowed and slid the schedule across the counter.

  Mrs. Wolfe laid a hand on Jonah’s arm. “Honey, do you—?”

  “No, Mom. I’ll see you after school.” He barely acknowledged her as she squeezed his arm and turned to the door. A faint whiff of her sickly sweet perfume wafted into my nostrils as she left the office.

  Jonah drummed his fingers on the counter, a thick silver chain bracelet just visible beneath his cuff. He searched my face, like a lost wanderer. I felt a flush creep from the base of my throat to my cheeks. “So what’s our first class together?”

  “Um, French. Second period.” I tapped a finger on his schedule, brushing the side of his hand. I flattened my palm against the counter, but our pinkies were still touching, just barely. “But you have history first period.”

  The bell rang.

  “And you’re late.”

  He shrugged, his lips curving. “I’m sure they’ll forgive me.” He leaned forward a little. “How’d you land this office gig?”

  I propped my elbow on the counter and rested my chin in my hand. “They had a big pageant. There was a swimsuit competition and everything.”

  Jonah grinned. “And of course you won.”

  “No, I was first runner-up. But the girl who won had a sudden unfortunate accident.”

  He laughed, his green eyes flashing. “You’re funny. I like that.”

  A little squiggle of pleasure shot through me. It was the first time a boy had ever been so openly appreciative of me; usually I was in the background behind Jenny. “Thanks,” I said, sure that my face was red as a strawberry.

  “Mr. Wolfe, do you have a class to go to?”

  I whirled around.

  Mr. Morrissey stood in the doorway of his office, flipping through a sheaf of papers.

  “Yes, sir.” Jonah winked at me. “See you in French. Au revoir.” And with that, he sauntered out of the office.

  I watched him go. The little butterfly in my chest multiplied into a thousand. I took a deep breath and turned back to the computer. As I tapped the keys, my hands started to shake. Don’t be an idiot. He’s just a boy.

  But the trembling intensified, ran down my legs so that I could barely stand. I gripped the edge of the counter to keep from falling. This wasn’t the aftereffect of talking to a cute boy. This was something different, something unnatural . . . My mind darkened, closing out thought. I bent over the counter, my forehead pressed to its cool surface, but the trembles took over my whole body.

  My knees buckled and I hit the floor. The lights went out. Pain seared across my chest. I tried to breathe, but my lungs sealed shut. Panicked, I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping everything would return to normal, but when I opened them the floor of the office was far below me.

  I hovered in the air, gazing down at the scene below. Everyone in the office was frozen, the secretaries’ fingers poised above their keyboards as though someone had hit the Pause button on them. What was happening? Everything was in razor-sharp focus, my vision crystalline.

  I spun in the air to face the windows. Reflected in the glass was a magnificent falcon, its wings outstretched several feet across, its snowy breast in gleaming contrast with the blue-black feathers that covered its back. I blinked. So did the falcon. My heart in my throat, I turned my head as the falcon in the glass did the same.

  The falcon was me.

  I screamed, but instead of my voice a terrifying bird-cry ripped out of my throat. I dropped in the air, shock vibrating through me. Had I fallen asleep? Was this a dream? The last thing I remembered was leaning over the counter. Had I hit my head? Whatever was happening, it felt so real. I raised my wings and shot upward with dizzying speed. The top of my head hit the ceiling. I brought my wings down to level myself out. The floor below looked very far away, and my head spun with vertigo. Wake up, I told myself. Wake up! Wake up!

  But I didn’t—I couldn’t—wake up. I circled above the secretaries’ desks, the beat of those impossibly strong wings like thunder in my ears. I shut my eyes. Thunder was rumbling. I listened, every other sound in the world disappearing beneath the rumble. It was not thunder. It was . . . growling.

  My eyes flew open. A huge black panther slunk in through the office door, its belly low to the ground, its fierce emerald eyes fixed on me. With its back paw, it knocked the door closed. I spun around; the door to Mr. Morrissey’s office was shut too. My gut twisted. I was trapped.

  I faced the panther again. A jolt thudded through me. It looked exactly like the panther I had seen last night at the waterfall. What the hell is going on?

  The panther sprang onto the counter, scattering papers. In one swift motion, it rose onto its hind legs and swiped the air.

  I buffeted backward just in time; its long claws missed my feathered belly by less than an inch. A tiny cry escaped from me.

  I flew back and forth above the panther while it paced the length of the counter beneath me. My biology teacher had once talked about the fight or flight instinct, but now that I was literally in flight, the panther blocked every move I made. I took refuge by the ceiling panels, my wings fluttering. With nowhere to go, I had to fight.

  My mind whirled, but somehow this strange new body knew what to do. I tucked my wings in and dove, my eyes fixed on the panther’s neck. In less than an instant, I was there. I turned, trying to understand how fast I’d flown, but in that moment of hesitation the panther pounced. It pinned me to the counter, its claws over my throat. I looked into its glowing eyes as it lowered its head, its jaws wide, its long teeth reaching for my throat . . .

  Screaming filled my ears. It was my own voice.

  “Alessia! What’s the matter?”

  I blinked, the fluorescent lights blinding. The office was normal again.

  One of the secretaries bent over me, her face flooded with concern. “Are you all right?”

  I sat up, gulping in air. I held my hand in front of my face, flexing my fingers. It was only my hand, no wings, no feathers. “I don’t—I don’t know.” I looked around. Principal Morrissey and the other secretaries stood in a semicircle around me, their faces perplexed. “Everything went
dark for a minute. Was that just me?”

  “You should see the nurse,” Principal Morrissey said. “Has this ever happened before?”

  My legs wobbled as I pulled myself up to stand. Other than the rapid pounding of my heart, I seemed to be okay. “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry—I think I fell asleep for a minute.” I tried to smile. “Didn’t sleep too well last night, I guess.”

  “Are you sure?” The secretaries clustered around me. Their motherly concern was smothering.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Maybe I’ll—” I glanced at the clock. The bell for second period would ring in ten minutes. “Maybe I’ll just get some fresh air before my next class.”

  “Okay, dear. But see the nurse if you feel sick at all.”

  “I will.” I pushed my way through them and out of the office, breaking into a run until I hit the front door of the school.

  Outside, the air was cold and bracing. In the sharp, clear morning, it was easier to see that it had simply been a dream. A vivid, nightmarish dream but a dream nonetheless.

  That’s all it was, I thought and hurried inside as the bell clanged.

  On the way to second period, I met Jenny in the hall. “You will not believe what Melissa said to me during homeroom,” she started, then squinted at me. “Are you okay? You look weird.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” She looked unconvinced so I decided to distract her. “I registered the Wolfes.”

  “Oooh,” she squealed, her eyes wide.

  Several people near us turned their heads, but once they saw it was Jenny they lost interest. A day didn’t pass without Jenny squealing in the hallway.

  “I did something really wrong,” I whispered. We were almost at the door of the French classroom. I leaned in close to her ear and told her about switching Bree’s and Jonah’s schedules.

  She laughed. “Oh, Lessi, that wasn’t wrong. That was so right.” Still hooting, she opened the door.

  I pressed two fingers to my temple, which still throbbed a little from the whatever it was in the office. I took a deep breath and followed Jenny into the classroom. As I walked to my usual seat between Jenny and Carly, I scanned the desks. Jonah wasn’t here yet.