Banish

by Nicola Marsh

  He waited until I’d finished and slipped the phone into my hoodie pocket—within easy reach, just in case.

  We didn’t speak while walking the two blocks to his place and the sounds I’d found comforting previously now jarred. I wanted to tell New York City to shut the hell up so I could concentrate on filtering my thoughts and try to make sense of things.

  He let us into his building and we rode the elevator in silence, an arm span apart. Not quite how I’d envisaged the next time I visited his apartment. After our kiss earlier and the significance I’d attached to him writing a song for me, I’d visualised us spending evenings curled up on his sofa eating popcorn and laughing at chick flicks. I’d built up an entire cosy scenario in my head that was now clouded by distrust and suspicion and compunction.

  Exactly how things had ended between Noah and me.

  Not a good analogy to make.

  But Ronan and Noah were worlds apart. For starters, Ronan had let me into his life with ease, via cyberspace first and then into his apartment. When I’d set foot inside his apartment tonight I couldn’t help but compare him to Noah, and how I’d never been to his home—not once.

  We’d always hung out in Broadwater, about twenty miles from Noah’s place in Broad River, our sister town. I hadn’t cared, because Noah was the coolest thing Broadwater had ever seen and he’d been dating me.

  I’d liked strolling around town hand in hand, hanging out at the diner and going for long walks through the woods so we could be alone. Noah was a wunderkind in Broadwater, volunteering at the fire department when he wasn’t working as an orderly at the old folks’ home, so no-one in town had blinked at our age difference, his twenty-two to my sixteen.

  Everyone loved Noah, including me. Until he started acting weird and I’d deliberately distanced myself. The more moody he became, the further I pulled away, until I’d had enough.

  I dumped him.

  He killed himself the next day.

  And every single person in the town turned their back on me; when they weren’t blaming me, that is. I couldn’t go to school, couldn’t go to the grocery store and couldn’t walk down Main Street without people pointing and whispering. Or worse—publicly shaming me. Calling out to me, spray painting graffiti on the fence at home—the works.

  A small part of me wanted to blurt out the truth in my defence, but slandering a dead guy would have only made things worse for me so I left. It didn’t help when Mom insisted Noah had a message for me and she’d be happy to translate.

  “Here we are.” Ronan gestured for me to step into the apartment in front of him. Usually I’d be impressed with his manners. Tonight, with sinister imaginings shadowing me, I thought he might stab me in the back.

  I hovered on the threshold, glancing at his apartment, wondering what was behind the closed doors of the rooms I hadn’t seen earlier. Were any of them the one in the video?

  I tried to clamp down on the surge of fear making me want to run. He muttered a curse and stepped around me, flinging open one of the doors on the left, revealing a den crowded with ­computer screens, hard drives, keyboards and discs scattered everywhere.

  “This is where I work and mix music.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped inside as he gestured at the mess. “Feel free to look around for dead bodies.”

  The sarcasm stung. But not half as much as the deep-seated regret that I’d royally screwed up and might never get another chance with him. “I know it sounds crazy, but…”

  “You think I’m a sicko.”

  Hating every second of this I placed a steadying hand on his forearm, hoping it wouldn’t tremble and give away my ambivalence over his innocence. “I was going to say, ‘I don’t think you could’ve done this.’”

  My declaration of his blamelessness sounded feeble and he shrugged off my hand, ignoring me while he booted up a computer. We didn’t speak as I reluctantly pulled up a chair next to his, our eyes trained on the giant screen as the music clip started to play.

  I could hum the song by heart, the number of times I’d heard it tonight, but I wisely compressed my lips, tension creeping up my spine until I sat ramrod straight the closer we got to the end.

  And saw a big, black nothing. The last note faded into darkness, as it had the many times I’d replayed the clip.

  To his credit, Ronan didn’t say a word as he swivelled his chair to face me, but his folded arms, deep frown and rigid stillness spoke volumes. I’m not sure what I expected. For him to fess up? For him to tell me it was all a lame joke, ha ha? I know what I wanted to hear. That it was a big mistake; that someone had tampered with his clip. But staring at the equipment in this room, sitting next to a computer genius, the odds weren’t stacked in his favour.

  “So?” When he finally spoke, he spat the word and that one little syllable drove a dagger of dread deep into my fissured heart.

  I’d seen a dead body. That nobody else had seen despite repeated viewings. Didn’t make me crazy. But it did make me furious that Mom’s insidious fears had somehow transmitted to me.

  “I don’t know what to say.” And it was true. I couldn’t find the words to make him understand. I’d seen that body. Hadn’t I?

  Embarrassingly, my voice quivered and it must have got through to him better than any clichéd apology I could’ve come up with, for he uncrossed his arms and touched my hand. It took every ounce of willpower not to flinch.

  “Do you want out? Is that what this is about?”

  I yanked my hand out from under his. “You think I’d make up this crap?”

  His dubious expression was all the answer I needed. But I couldn’t blame him, not when I doubted myself.

  “Honestly? I haven’t dated a teenager since I was one myself, so I have no clue whether this is an excuse to get out before we really start something or an excuse to come over or—”

  “Screw you.” I leaped from my chair and barged out of the room, making for the door.

  “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  Not half as sorry as I was for taking this situation from bad to worse. Ronan was seriously confused by my wacky behaviour. Understandable. But rather than owning up to my craziness, I redirected the anger at myself onto him. Not cool.

  But what would be even less cool? Crying in front of him. So I did the one thing guaranteed to speed up my departure.

  “Stick your apology up your ass.”

  The faster I alienated him the faster I could escape. But before I could run from the apartment he grabbed me from behind. I fought, wriggling and lashing out, needing to flee before the tears started. It was futile. The harder I fought, the more he tried to soothe me and that’s when the sobs started in earnest. Great, big, heaving, snot-clogging sobs that made my chest ache and my eyes burn.

  What seemed like an eternity later but in reality could have only been a few minutes, I stopped fighting, exhausted by my irrational fury. And I was furious, deep down inside where I’d learned to lock away emotions. Furious at Ronan for ruining the excitement of a new relationship, furious at Angie for planting that stupid seed about spiritual powers, and furious at myself for daring to believe things could be different for me in New York.

  “You done?”

  I gave another kick into thin air for good measure and he chuckled, his breath warm against my ear as he gently set me down on my feet. “You could try talking to me rather than throwing a temper tantrum.”

  Mortified he’d guessed my motivation I tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but he held me tighter.

  I sniffed. “I was embarrassed, okay? Didn’t want to cry like a baby in front of you.”

  His lips brushed my hair. “I don’t scare easily, especially by a few tears.”

  “Those weren’t tears. Those waterworks were humiliating to the max.” I hiccuped to prove it.

  “I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

  His arms held me close, comforting despite my doubts, and I wished I could erase the last half hour with a wave of Angie’s wand.
r />   I liked having him cuddle me from behind; it felt safe, like he had my back and…

  “Oh my god, is that a boner?” I wrenched free of his embrace and turned around in time to see his sheepish shrug.

  “I’m a guy. You were rubbing against me. Do the math.”

  I should have been repulsed he could get turned on at a time like this but the lonely girl inside me who had been starving for affection for a long time was flattered.

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered, dropping onto the couch and holding up my hand when he made a move to sit beside me. “Listen up. Don’t you ever use my age against me. I’m seventeen. Big freaking deal. You knew that when we started hanging out, so don’t use it against me now.”

  He nodded and I jabbed a finger in his direction, not finished, not by a long shot. “Secondly, I don’t need an excuse to drop around. I like you. You know that. If I want to come around, I will.”

  His mouth kicked up at the corners at my use of present tense and I hurried on. “Thirdly, I came here because some small part of me trusts you not to play sick games and I wanted to see your reaction to this crap.”

  “And?”

  And despite all evidence pointing at Ronan, I didn’t think he did this.

  “And I wish whoever tampered with that amazing song you played for me rots in hell for ruining the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.”

  His pleased smile had me scooting over a tad so he could sit. “You liked it, huh?”

  “Loved it.” I plucked at a tiny rip in my jeans, wondering if I’d said too much. He covered my hand, his fingertips grazing my skin and sending a shiver of longing through me. I wanted to hold hands with this guy, stroll through Central Park with him, applaud at his gigs and have him write songs for me. Before that clip, I’d dreamed of him being my first.

  Now, while I’d verbally acquitted him, my heart struggled to accept it. I wanted to believe him, I really did, but I’d been burned in the past for trusting too easily. Time to wise up.

  “I didn’t do this, so who did?” He threaded his fingers through mine—long, elegant fingers made for coaxing brass to perform magic.

  “No idea.”

  All the people who despised me enough to pull a prank like this were back in Broadwater and none of them knew where I was. I’d made sure of it. Left school without telling anyone where I was going, severed contact with the few friends who’d turned into acquaintances when I started dating Noah and devoted all my time to hanging out with him, ensured no forwarding address was noted anywhere.

  I had wanted to put my past behind me. Had craved a new start far from guilt and sorrow and regret. I sometimes wondered if Mom even knew where I was, she was that out of it some days.

  “You don’t think…” He paused, strumming the back of my neck with his free hand, and I pretended that was responsible for the shudder down my spine and not a premonition I wouldn’t like what he had to say.

  “What?”

  His grip on my hand tightened. “You told me your aunt does witchcraft online. You don’t think she’s messing with you? Trying to get you to believe in her crap or something like that?”

  “No way.” I untwined my fingers from his, annoyed at his ludicrous suggestion. “She wouldn’t do it to me.”

  Not after what I’d been through. Angie knew about the tragedy in Broadwater. I’d told her about Noah, about needing to get away. She wouldn’t have got any more than that from Mom, who’d been only too happy to foist me on her sister so she could concentrate on the important people in her life: her imaginary ghost friends.

  Would Angie do something this bizarre, with the aim to win me over to her way of thinking? She’d tried before and the only thing that had stopped her was Mom, who stood by my choice to remain mundane.

  Would Angie pretend I had a supernatural gift, nurture me along, support me until I believed…?

  “No freaking way.” I yelled more forcefully this time, ready to leap up again when he laid a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  “Chill for a moment and let’s figure this out.”

  When I glared at his hand he removed it.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  I wanted to tell him where to stick his help but right now I had two options. Blow off the guy who had sent me the video and could help me unravel the mystery, or trust him enough to see this through to the end.

  I sighed. “Sorry for being a bitch but I’m seriously rattled.”

  “It’s more than the video, isn’t it?”

  I focused on my fiddling fingers that had resumed their usual cuticle defilement rather than look into his eyes and allow him to see the truth. More? There was so much more, his head would spin if I told him everything.

  I dragged in a deep breath before voicing one of my greatest fears. “My aunt’s pretty together with the whole witchcraft thing but Mom’s been having a hard time lately. Guess when I saw that dead body I freaked because a small part of me hoped I wasn’t going crazy too.”

  “You’re not crazy. And loads of perfectly sane people practise witchcraft.”

  “Yeah? Name one.”

  “You just said your aunt’s pretty cool?”

  “Says he who just accused her of masterminding this entire thing to lure me to the dark side.”

  He laughed and I reluctantly joined in.

  “I’m just throwing stuff out there, trying to make sense of it.”

  You and me both.

  “Did you really suspect me?”

  I heard the hint of vulnerability and that slayed me more than a hundred cool songs he could ever write for me.

  “Just a little?” I held up my thumb and forefinger an inch apart and he swatted it.

  “Blame it on my insecurity.”

  He tweaked my nose. “You’ve got nothing to be insecure about.”

  “I didn’t know that at the start. When I was filming you tutoring at school? When we hung out afterwards and you helped me organise my shots? When you sent me those YouTube clips for the CD you’ve got planned? I thought you liked me but—”

  “I liked you but I didn’t want anything to happen.” He leaped off the couch and start pacing. “You’re still in high school, I didn’t want to mess with that.”

  “Have the band said anything?” The band were more than buddies. They were his sounding board, his conscience.

  “They rib me, that’s about it.” He blushed and I hazarded a guess they had added a few more crudities. “Besides, I don’t give a shit what they think about my relationships.”

  “Ah…”

  He stopped and frowned at me. “What?”

  “You said relationships, so I’m guessing not wanting to hook up with me has something to do with your past?”

  He glanced away and I had my answer right there. “Just the usual baggage, nothing major.”

  I could assuage my rampant curiosity and push him for answers, but he might do the same to me and then what would I say?

  By the way, the last guy I dated ended up too much for me to handle so I dumped him and he hanged himself the next day?

  I settled for, “So what made you change your mind?”

  He knelt in front of me and my lungs seized with the tenderness making the gold flecks in his eyes pop. “You.”

  I gulped, trapped in the intensity of his stare, speechless.

  “You’re quirky and fun and blunt and cute.” He shrugged. “I’d be a fool not to date you.”

  Glowing under his praise, I submitted to his hug, wanting to believe in him but all the while wondering if this incredibly understanding, great guy was too good to be true.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I’D NEVER LIKED working with a partner at school.

  Lab partners, Lit partners, gym partners—all a giant pain in the ass. Depending on other people for anything didn’t come naturally and when getting good grades was my escape ticket from my past and into a spirit-free future, I preferred doing things my way.

  Thankfully, Se
th was nothing like the lab partners I’d had at Broadwater High. He actually worked and shared the load, and kept our study appointments. Unsurprisingly, our friendship had grown from there.

  The fact Seth had only been at Fields two months, also lived with an aunt and came from a small town made me feel closer to him. Though that’s where our similarities ended. Seth had come to New York City because his dad, who was his best bud apparently, travelled a lot for work and didn’t like leaving him unsupervised for long periods. Pity Mom wasn’t my BFF.

  And Seth’s home town in upstate Connecticut sounded nothing like Broadwater. From the little he’d told me of Quest, it sounded warm and welcoming; a place he’d been reluctant to leave. Definitely nothing like Broadwater, which couldn’t wait to see the back of me.

  We’d also bonded because most of the other kids had been raised in New York City and were a tight clique that practically lived in each other’s houses. They hung out, their parents hung out, they knew which teachers to suck up to and which classes to ditch safely. Seth and I had some catching up to do.

  “Do anything exciting last night?” He dropped into the chair next to me, dumping a stack of textbooks on the desk while slinging his backpack underneath.

  Our study corral was empty as usual, being the furthest from the cafeteria. I cherished the privacy and Seth didn’t seem to mind.

  “Went out.”

  “Thought you had the history assignment to finish?”

  Uncomfortable discussing my burgeoning love-life, I shrugged. “Ronan helped me out, then we grabbed something to eat.”

  “Ah…Roooonan.”

  I chuckled at his teasing. The way I’d talked about Ronan nonstop while filming him for my music assignment, it hadn’t taken Seth long to latch onto my crush.

  “So, how was it?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “The grabbing something to eat?”

  “Okay.” That’s me, queen of the understatement. Pity our magical first date had been overshadowed by what happened later.

  “Just okay?” He made a noise like a deflating balloon and I poked my tongue out.