Euphoria Kids

by Alison Evans

  ‘Mm.’

  I place the candles equal distance around the book so they make a circle. I touch their wicks and they spring to life with my own butter-yellow light.

  ‘I didn’t know you could do that,’ the boy whispers.

  ‘She’s made of fire,’ Iris tells him.

  ‘Right,’ he says, then we all burst into laughter because everything seems so ridiculous.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ I open the book. ‘We gotta like, cleanse ourselves or whatever. I know a little about this.’ I grab the glass of water on my bedside table and dip my fingers in, spreading it over my hands. ‘That’ll do, you both do the same. Now, uh, it says to use blood but I don’t really want to? So I got some basil – I feel like it’s the meatiest herb.’

  The boy snorts, but he takes some.

  ‘We’re supposed to put everything in a bowl but like, this’ll be fine.’ I grab the saucer from my cup and place it in front of the book. I light the basil and blow it out, smoke that smells like pizza twisting around the room. I let the ashes crumble in my hands and put them on the saucer. I tell the others to do the same. Iris adds the smoky quartz from their pocket to the pile.

  Nothing happens for a bit, then the candles blow out all at once. I shriek, Iris grips their knees and digs in their nails, the boy makes himself smaller.

  The book flies open to a place somewhere near the front, a double-spread of spidery writing. I don’t think it’s in English, but Iris is leaning in, muttering what it says.

  The room goes totally dark.

  ‘Iris,’ I say, but I don’t think they can hear me. They’re perfectly still, radiating energy. It rustles against my skin, through my hair.

  Slowly, pieces fade in: a tree, grass, birdsong, river sounds. We’re in the realm, I’m almost sure.

  Iris finishes reading and looks up. ‘What?’

  ‘You were reading under your breath,’ the boy says. ‘You’ve taken us somewhere.’

  ‘We’re in the realm,’ I say.

  Iris stands up, holding out their hands. They can feel it too, the land humming.

  ‘Do you reckon it’s safe to walk around?’ the boy asks.

  ‘I’ll check.’ Iris takes a deep breath and steps off the picnic blanket. They gasp. ‘It’s so much. Like I’m being recharged. I think it’s okay.’

  When I step onto the grass, I don’t feel any different than I do standing at home. But the air feels familiar.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ I ask.

  ‘Don’t know. Maybe it’s near the birthday party clearing? The plants seem to think so.’

  ‘You can talk to plants?’ the boy says curiously.

  ‘Oh, yes. Um. I was born from a seed. I don’t mean like sperm, I mean like, a seed in the ground.’

  ‘Oh.’ He nods. ‘Righto. I was born the regular way, I guess. Don’t know if I’m made of anything except flesh and bone.’

  ‘You’ll figure it out,’ I say. ‘We can help you, if you need.’

  He just nods, solemn.

  There’s a path through the trees, so we take it. Iris keeps the book clutched to their chest. A stream flows next to us with a low, shimmering fog lying on top of the water. I’ve never seen anything like it, in all my trips to the realm.

  The breeze smells like something I recognise, but I can’t decipher what. It’s confusing, I’m not sure where it comes from.

  Everything around us is humming with life. I can see the flames coming off me, showing what I’m made of. I spread my arms out, soaking up the sun.

  The forest opens up for us. The tree ferns get taller, the tree trunks get wider, the flowers get bigger. There’s moss over everything, flowers of every colour.

  Again it’s like I’m floating in space, I can’t feel anything. ‘Oh.’

  ‘What?’ Iris asks.

  ‘Is it the flowers?’ the boy asks, pointing to the ones I’m looking at, dark purple.

  Iris bends closer to have a look. The petals end in a fire-red. They shine in a way that reminds me of the moon roses, but like a dark sun.

  ‘Yeah.’ I try to focus on my body, how I exist in it. With it. I am my body. ‘Yeah, it’s the flowers.’ The flames on my arms are so small now I can barely see them.

  ‘What are they? What’s wrong?’ Iris asks.

  I start to tremble. I am my body. I am my body. My feet slip on the Earth, like she could just release me into space if she wanted. I am my body.

  Iris puts an arm around me, but I can barely feel them. I know I’m crying, but I can’t feel it.

  ‘Babs,’ the boy says, and he puts his arms around my waist, pressing himself into me. ‘It’s okay, we’re here.’

  I can’t feel anything.

  Iris gasps. They let go of me and stare around. ‘The trees aren’t happy.’

  I can’t move, and Iris is so quiet I don’t know if the boy heard them. I notice they have a new sigil burned onto their arm from the transport spell.

  ‘The trees aren’t happy, something’s wrong,’ they say, louder.

  ‘Why?’ the boy asks, letting me go to look at Iris.

  Iris shakes their head. ‘They won’t, maybe can’t, answer me? It’s something cold?’

  ‘Cold?’ The warmth returns, filling me up.

  ‘It was cold that day, between the rocks,’ the boy says.

  ‘Exactly.’ I spread my feet a little, feel the way Earth now locks me to her. ‘We have to get out of here.’

  And then, behind Iris, it’s clear to me. I gasp.

  It’s not something I can see, really, but I can feel the vacuum, the cold, the wrongness. The forest is silent.

  ‘What is it?’ the boy asks.

  ‘Cold fae,’ I say. ‘Run!’

  Iris starts to, but the boy doesn’t move. They grab his hand, and we’re crashing through the trees. We don’t follow the path, just keep running. The cold presence is close behind us – I can feel it in my feet whenever they touch the ground.

  ‘Those flowers,’ I yell to the others, not even sure if they can hear me over us crashing through the forest. ‘I remember seeing them when I was with the witch.’

  ‘What?!’ Iris yells back.

  ‘Does that mean she’s nearby?’ the boy says.

  I can’t reply to that; the thought of the witch being close is too much.

  We stop when we come to the stream we were walking beside before, surreal and magical. I don’t think we should touch the water – the fog looks like . . . I don’t know.

  ‘Can we cross it?’ the boy says.

  ‘No,’ Iris and I say at the same time with the same panic.

  A shiver runs up my spine and I cry out. ‘They’re close,’ I say, feeling the tug of their vacuum.

  ‘Are these the same things as before the birthday party?’ the boy asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, shivering. Are these figures somehow with the witch? Does she control them?

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ I say. I feel like I’m being poisoned, the tendrils of cold sweeping up my legs, into my veins, my heart. ‘Come on.’

  A cold hand clamps down on my shoulder. I scream. This spooks the boy even more and he shoots off, me and Iris just managing to keep up with him.

  ‘Can you use the book?’ I ask Iris as we run. ‘To get us out?’

  ‘I don’t know if the same spell will work,’ they say. ‘We don’t have all the other stuff.’

  ‘We can’t run forever,’ I reply. ‘Maybe having the sigil on your body will help?’

  ‘Please, Iris, there’s gotta be something you can do,’ the boy says.

  We’re slowing down, we can’t run much further. The boy is holding a stitch in his side, Iris is red in the face. ‘The basket?’ they ask.

  ‘Forget it,’ I say, waving a hand. ‘We just have to leave.’


  ‘Okay.’ Iris drops to their knees, their skin splitting. Bright blood blooms. The boy cries out and kneels beside them. I do the same.

  Iris lies the book flat on the ground on the right page. They use the blood from their knees to trace the sigil onto the paper. ‘Hold me!’ they yell out, and me and the boy each grip an arm. The sigil fades into the page.

  We’re back in my room.

  We look at each other. We’re covered in little cuts from running through the trees, and breathing too heavy, too red in the face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Babs,’ Iris says.

  I close the book. ‘I’ll get the Dettol; we should make sure our cuts don’t get infected. Your knees especially.’

  Before either of them can reply, I get up and go to the bathroom. I lock the door and sit on the cold tiles, my back against the cupboard.

  The witch. Vada said she was far away, but we were so close. I shiver, try to remember I am my body, we’re in the world together.

  I take the bandaids and Dettol back to my room, where Iris and the boy clean my cuts, bandage me up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Static Girl

  Babs is half visible on the bus. When I sit beside her, she smiles at me, but then I turn my head and she’s gone. I reach out for her but there’s just empty space. I get out my book and then she’s back. As I look at her again, she flickers like static.

  ‘Babs?’

  ‘Those flowers,’ she says. ‘I can’t believe they were there. I don’t think I believed it.’

  ‘What? Is that . . . good?’ I can’t tell.

  Babs starts to cry; I put an arm around her but it’s hard because she keeps disappearing.

  ‘I want to see her,’ she says. ‘I want this gone.’

  I pat her back and she cries some more.

  ‘Why don’t we find her?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t understand why Nova wouldn’t want me to know.’ She’s stopped crying, but she’s breathing heavy and she leans on my shoulder.

  ‘They want to protect you.’

  ‘I don’t need protecting,’ she mutters.

  ‘They’re just scared. I don’t think it was right for them to keep this from you in the first place. That’s why Vada told you.’ I shiver at the memory of the coldness. ‘Maybe the witch is working with the cold fae. Or . . . maybe they work for her.’

  ‘It could be really dangerous,’ Babs says, and then she’s gone completely.

  I take my arm back and get out my phone. I text her, tell her to let me know if she needs anything. But she doesn’t respond by the time we get to school, and I have to stop checking my phone.

  Babs isn’t in art class, but the boy is. We sit together, feeling the absence of her.

  ‘Do you think she’s okay?’ he asks, not looking at me. He concentrates on colouring in something on his page. I don’t know what it is. With him, I can never tell until it’s all done.

  ‘Not really. Do you want to go to Eaglefern after school? She’ll probably be there.’

  He nods. ‘Sure.’ He colours in some more, green again. Green seems to be his favourite.

  I don’t know what I’m doing with this big art project. I’ve taken to cutting the letters out of newspapers and sticking them all over the page, hoping maybe some thoughts will appear. So far no, but it’s fun and Miranda seems to like it.

  ‘Hey,’ the boy says, ‘you know how you said you’d come with me to the doctor?’

  I nod, but then when I look at him he’s not looking at me. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you reckon maybe we could go? Maybe this weekend?’ He’s blushing, gripping his pencil with whitened fingers.

  ‘Sure. I’m taking the pill for my period, it’s good. I end up having one every few months but it’s so much better than before. If that’s what it’s about. You don’t have to tell me.’

  He glances up at me then back to his page. ‘Thanks. I’ll make the appointment and let you know.’

  ‘Great.’

  I watch him colour a bit more before I go back to cutting out letters and words. I find an old article about plants and use that, covering the page with seeds of ideas, but still nothing takes shape.

  ‘How are you two going?’ Miranda asks.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the boy says. The two of them start talking about his project, and I notice Miranda never uses the name the other teachers use. She uses the right pronouns because she must’ve heard me or Babs using them. But never in front of the class.

  While they talk, I rub my glue stick all over the letter-spattered page. I get the bottle of pearlescent-pink glitter from the stores cupboard, and I shake it onto the glue. It’s a strange thing, to see the letters and the words poking out through the glitter. They still don’t say anything, so it’s like trying to listen to a radio through static. Glittery static.

  It looks ace, but it’s not what I want for this project. I try to figure out if there’s something I want to keep in it, to use in another piece, but I don’t know what. The glitter’s nice. Maybe it’s not magic enough.

  ‘How are you going, Iris?’ Miranda asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. How do I tell her that what’s on the page is the mess I feel about this piece? Hidden words – thoughts, I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be.

  ‘Bit lost?’

  I nod.

  ‘What is this?’ She gestures to the glittery word page.

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘You’re finding words a little hard today,’ she says. Her face is kind.

  I nod. I don’t know what else to say. There’s a burning within me to make something, an urge growing under the soil, the way I did. But I don’t know what it is. The leaves haven’t yet poked through the surface.

  ‘It’s okay. You have a few weeks, there’s plenty of time.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Miranda leaves our table and goes to check in with someone else.

  ‘What are you planning for this project?’ I ask the boy. I realise I’ve talked about this with Babs but not him.

  ‘I’m just trying to figure out what my name is,’ he says. ‘So, I don’t know.’

  ‘I feel like I don’t know anything either. I’m trying to figure out how to tell people about how I was born from a seed.’

  He stares at my glittery page for a while. ‘This looks just like that. Everything’s obscured and magic, and you’re not sure but no one else is either. I think you can use this.’

  His page is rainbows. Flowing shapes, long curls of colour.

  ‘You’ll figure it out,’ I tell him. ‘There are lots of names. There will be one right for you. You’ll probably find it when you’re least expecting it.’

  He gives a small smile.

  We go back to our work, and Miranda tells the class that we’re all doing well. One boy snickers and nudges some­thing to his friends, but Miranda pretends she doesn’t notice. She lets us go from class a few minutes early.

  In the corridor I text Babs, telling her we’ll be at Eaglefern for a bit after school ends. I put my phone back in my pocket before any of the teachers see me.

  The boy and I head to different classes. At lunchtime it’s raining so we sit in the library, mostly in silence. I keep sitting there after the end-of-lunch bell rings, skipping maths again.

  Saltkin flits in through an open window and looks at me. His face is scrunched up, sad.

  ‘Are you disappointed in me for missing another class?’ I mutter so it sounds like I’m talking to myself.

  His disapproval is replaced by laughter for a moment, before he gets stern again. ‘Iris, you know I don’t care about that. I know what happened in the forest.’

  ‘What happened in the forest?’ Maybe he doesn’t know.

  ‘With the book. Why did yo
u transport yourselves there? That book can be dangerous, you have to look after yourself.’

  ‘Can’t this wait until after school?’ I ask quietly. ‘People will notice I’m talking to no one.’

  ‘This is important, Iris. Can you meet me outside?’

  ‘It’s raining, Saltkin, that’ll look even weirder.’

  ‘Fine. Listen then.’ He sits on my pencil case. ‘You can’t go looking for the witch, Iris. You made a pact with me not to. Those aren’t easily broken. And you could put yourself in real danger – we don’t know what she’s capable of. The forest is changing.’

  ‘It’s not like you did that pact on purpose.’ I can’t look him in the eyes.

  Red flashes across his skin, sparking out at his hands and feet. ‘It doesn’t matter. You have to be careful with magic, you could hurt yourself. You could hurt your friends.’

  That gets me. ‘You’re right. But we went there accidentally, and we thought it would be fine. It looked just like where we had the party. And we weren’t looking for the witch, by the way – that was a coincidence. I didn’t even know what the flowers meant.’

  He gazes at me for a long time, and I don’t know what he’s thinking. When he opens his mouth I expect him to say something, but then he shakes his head and flits right back out the window. I sigh angrily and roll my eyes. It’s not like we meant to get in any danger. Everything was an accident.

  I wish he had a phone.

  I start working on my art project again, cutting out letters and sticking them onto the next page. I join them with a black fineliner, not in any order, just trying to make some kind of connection. I create a nonsense word, a sentence, and then I put the pen down.

  I check my phone. Babs still hasn’t replied.

  Are you okay? I text. I wait about half a minute before writing another one. sorry i dont mean to bug you im just worried please lmk youre okay. I hover over send for a second, wondering if it makes me too needy or whatever, and then press it.

  There’s still no reply by the time the end-of-school bell goes. Me and the boy walk down the hill together, all the way to Eaglefern.

  Bec is working today. I blush as I order a hot chocolate, and the boy can’t look at her. ‘Do we all have crushes on her?’ I ask him as we start to walk over to Babs, who’s sitting in her usual spot at the back. She’s flickering again; I frown.