by K. G. McAbee
A weird feeling went through me.
How could I see the image of somebody standing behind me when I was alone?
I turned. No one there of course.
I shook off the weird feeling. Just tired, or jet lag or something.
I jumped in the shower.
***
Grand didn't stick to her threat about making me ride in the limo with my sisters. We all shared a rushed but really good breakfast, dished out by Brent, while Grand gave us directions to our new schools. Gave me directions, at least; Jos and Jax were going in the limo after all.
"Why can't Tommy drop us off?" Jax demanded through a mouthful of eggs. She had her blonde hair in a shaggy ponytail and was wearing a purple t-shirt and jeans.
"Because Tommy's car is a two-seater, and his high school is across town from your grammar school, that's why." Grand calmly buttered a biscuit.
"I didn't know Brent could make biscuits," I said as I grabbed my third.
"It's North Carolina. He doesn't have a choice." Grand looked smug.
"After today, can we ride the bus?" Jos asked. She had a green blouse that looked nice with her corn silk hair hanging down to her shoulders. She sipped her grapefruit juice, trying to be as ladylike as Grand kept trying to make them both. Jax joggled her elbow and a drop spilled onto her blouse.
"Hey! Now I'll have to change!" Jos glared at her twin.
"Serves you right, blouse stealer!"
"Nobody is doing anything but heading out the door. Girls, the limo is waiting for you out front. Tommy, here are the keys for the Jag; Ray put a map to your school on the seat. Out you all go." Grand made shooing motions with one hand, but I noticed she was eying the remaining biscuits.
I grabbed the keys, snatched a biscuit and ran.
***
James P. Cothran High School was a long low brick building on a hill at the edge of town. From the parking lot—the highest spot around—I could see woods falling away on the slope behind a shabby stadium. I could just make out the glint of water off beyond it. A pond or river.
"Hey, my man; nice car!"
I looked at the guy who was just getting out of a rickety old pickup truck either rust colored from neglect, or possibly constructed entirely of rust. He was husky, almost flabby, with dark hair and eyes, and eyes with a look I'd seen in too many before. He wanted my car and he hated me for having it, but he didn't dare show it cause, dude, I must be rich to have a car like that, and he was not.
"Hi," I said. "I'm Tommy Hopkins." I held out a hand.
He took it and tried to turn it to hamburger, but I've dealt with his kind before. I work out for just such reasons.
"Name's Jordan Raquel. You must be the one who's living in the old Berwick house, huh? My dad told me somebody'd bought it."
"If it's a big old Victorian on, let's see, Clarke Street, then that's me all right. Your dad a realtor?"
"Nope, he runs a yard service. I help him cut grass and stuff. He's been taking care of the grounds at the old Berwick place since the last people left it. He said last week it'd been sold. Your old man must have a ton of money, dude. That place is really something."
I smiled. "It is a big house."
I saw no reason to mention it wasn't my dad's biggest house, or his only one.
"So, aren't you afraid to drive something like that to school?"
I looked at the Jag. It stood out in the parking lot full of old cars and trucks like a bright green jelly bean in a pile of dirty pebbles.
Maybe I should start taking the bus.
"It's my dad's. He's out of town. Business trip."
Jordan punched me in the shoulder.
"I get it. While the cat's away, huh?"
He hefted a ragged backpack over one shoulder. I could hear glass clinking inside. Come to think of it, he probably didn't have any books to put in it yet.
"Uh, sure. Hey, can you show me how to get to the principal's office? New kid and all that."
"You bet. Follow me, my man."
***
Principal Fisher shook my hand for the fifth time and then shoved a handful of papers at me. "Anything I can do, son, don't hesitate to ask. Our little town is mighty glad to have your family move in. We surely are. So just let me know if I can help at all, you hear?"
From the looks of some of the town I'd seen as I drove to school, I wasn't surprised the principal was glad we'd moved here. Closed businesses, empty warehouses, storefronts with all the glass broken out. Manning looked like a lot of the little towns my dad moved us to all over the country.
My dad's company, WFG Ltd., is a big multi-national conglomerate which builds factories, businesses, and clinics all over the place. Plenty of towns we'd moved to in the past looked as bad or worse than Manning, and I knew this one would look a whole lot different soon. Some of it already did; I'd passed a couple of streets where the old buildings had new fronts, where businesses were moving in and apartments were being offered for rent. Yep, this town would be different when we left. I just hoped it wouldn't be too soon. Grand seemed to like this place. Like it a lot.
But everything depended on Dad, of course. He was due to arrive later today. We'd find out then what our time frame might be.
I didn't have much trouble finding my classes. A couple of wings of the school building were shut down, and the entire student enrollment couldn't have been more than a few hundred. My last school, right outside of Palermo, Italy, had nearly two thousand students. The one before that, in San Diego, had over three thousand. This was going to take some getting used to.
The day passed kind of slow. Jordan Raquel was in several of my classes; he traveled with a pack of dudes following him like dogs. A couple of girls in my Spanish class welcomed me with squeals and hugs, and all the teachers were, well, teachers; what else can you say?
All the kids were welcoming. Heck, even the lunch room ladies smiled at me and one added extra pickles to my hamburger.
Well, all the kids but one. I couldn't help notice her; she was in almost all my classes. But she entered after everyone else was already in their seats, and she huddled to herself at the back of all the classes. She was dressed in dark clothes, a blue t-shirt and jeans, but she wasn't a Goth. Except for her red hair, she was just dull. Almost as if she wished she was invisible and was trying hard to pull it off.
I ignored her just as much as the rest of the kids did. Or tried to at least. As the day wore on, and she appeared in my classes one after the other, I found myself catching the movement of her pale fingers as they pushed strands of her hair away from her face. Soon I was studying the girl until she glanced over in my direction and I was forced to turn my attention back to the teacher at the front of the room.
There was something weird about the whole place though. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was there. I finally decided it was probably just left over jitters from the feeling I'd had in the bathroom this morning, when I'd seen some kind of hazy figure standing behind me.
After my last class, I headed down the hall to the door which I thought led to the parking lot. I found I couldn't go through the closed off wings and had to go around almost the whole school building. It took longer than I expected to find sidewalks, obviously well used, heading in the right direction. I wondered briefly how many years the wings had been closed off.
By the time I saw the parking lot in front of me, it was almost empty except for the Jag and Jordan's old truck. I headed for my car, but something stopped me in my tracks.
"Hey there, magic maker," someone said, loud and nasty.
Magic maker?
What, was I in Hogwarts or something?
I saw Jordan and his pack clustered on a sidewalk across the street from the school. I headed in that direction. For some reason I didn't understand, I was careful to remain out of their view. I even ducked behind a gnarled old tree with roots crumpling the sidewalk.
But I didn't need to be sneaky; they weren't paying any attention to me or anything else for th
at matter. All their senses were directed toward their prey, a figure in blue maybe half the size of the smallest guy there.
Then I recognized her. The wanna-be invisible girl from my classes.
Jordan reached out and took a strand of her hair between two of his thick fingers. She pulled back, and I could see the look of disgust cross her face.
"You're the same jerk you've always been, Jordan."
Her voice was low but it didn't sound scared, which surprised me. I would have been scared in the same situation, believe me.
She turned away, her backpack bouncing on her thin shoulders, but Jordan's well-trained pack went into action, crowding to flank her so she couldn't leave. One of them grabbed her arms as Jordan closed the distance between them.
"Maybe we should bring back the old days, huh?"
I saw the fear cross her face, to disappear as quickly as it came. I couldn't see Jordan's face, but I could hear the sneer in his voice.
"Have us a little old bonfire, maybe? Burn us a witch?"
That was enough. I'd been behind the tree but I stepped out.
"Hey, Jordan? You guys need to spread out a little, don't you think? You're crowding the lady."
Jordan turned, looking at me and I knew, clear as if he'd said the words, he hated me. Hated my guts.
"Lady?" he asked with a big grin. "No way, man. She's a witch, not no lady. But it's cool; me and my boys were just wishing her a good start to the old school year. Right, boys?"
Growls of agreement from his pack.
"Witch?" I laughed. "Hey, are you guys seniors, or are you guys, like, really big seventh graders? Last time I looked, witches were for Halloween, along with goblins and Darth Vader."
"You'll see, Hopkins." Jordan shook his head, like he was sorry I was so stupid. "She's a witch, all right. It runs in her family; ask anyone in town, they'll tell you. She'll curse you like she will us now. Come on, boys. Let her go and let's get outta here."
One dropped the backpack onto the sidewalk as they followed their alpha dog back toward the old truck in the parking lot.
"Hey," I said to the girl as I picked up the discarded backpack and held it out to her. "Are you all right?"
She didn't say anything, just took the backpack and hooked it over her shoulder. It looked too big for her and I wondered if I should offer to carry it or something.
She continued with the not saying anything, until finally I blurted out, "You were right, though. Those guys are jerks." I held out my hand. "I'm Tommy Hopkins, aka the new kid in school. I've seen you in some of my classes. Well, all of them, actually."
Her voice came out in a whisper, as if she was afraid to speak too loudly in case the dogs came running back.
"Anya. I'm Anya Blanchett."
She looked down at my hand like she'd never seen one before.
I let it hang there in midair for a little, then dropped it.
"Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Anya."
"I...I gotta go."
"Can I give you a ride? Those guys might be waiting for you."
"No!"
Instead of a whisper, she almost yelled the word and backed away from me like I was the predator. I didn't move. I had a funny feeling I'd startle her; like she'd turn into a deer or something and race off into the woods.
She hitched up the other strap of the backpack and started to turn away to leave. I couldn't explain the flash of fear rushing through me, but I reached out and took hold of her arm before she could get too far. "Wait...Anya...."
When she turned back toward me, I noticed the rich emerald green of her eyes and my words got stuck against the back of my throat before I could say them. The fear I'd felt only moments before changed into something like recognition. I felt as if I knew her, had known her, forever.
"Look, Tommy..." She let out a shaky breath and slipped her arm from my grasp. "I...really, it was nice to meet you. But really, it's fine. Thank you." The girl smiled softly before turning once more to disappear down the street, leaving me standing there shaking my head, trying to get rid of the strange feeling washing over me.
Weird. Man, I'm just saying. This was one really weird town.
Chapter Three
Anya
I don't remember much about the long walk home aside from jumping at every shadow across my path. The trembling made my steps unsteady, so what focus I could muster moved from my memories of what happened to the sheer desire to stay upright.
Despite the violence I'd faced, I found my mind kept wandering back to the one who had saved me. The one named Tommy whose eyes grabbed mine every time he looked at me. His face held something I wasn't used to seeing from those my own age, or any other age.
He looked...concerned. Not mad, or scared. There was...
I shook my head to drive the thoughts away as I approached my home, surrounded by the gardens my aunt loved more than anything else in the world. Rich greens overlapped the purples and reds of the herbs she tended, and I breathed in the scent of earth radiating from beneath the plants. She was there now; her hands quick to grab what she needed and push away what she didn't, gather what she wanted and discard what was useless. Her bright green eyes, the same shade as mine, peeked out from underneath the brim of the wide hat she wore and as they met mine, her peaceful smile changed into a frown at my expression.
"Annie, child! What happened to you?"
Dammit...I shrugged as I approached her bent form. Should've stopped and calmed down first.
"Not a thing, Aunt Evie. Just had a fall, that's all."
Those green eyes knew better, but she pursed her lips as she examined my pale face.
"Just a fall, eh?"
The thick gloves on her hands were gone before I realized it and she gestured toward the darkening skin on my arms.
"Make sure to put some dragon root salve on those bruises before tonight. Ivy will have a fit if she sees them. You mustn't have any type of negativity for the fitting, you know. It'll just ruin the whole thing."
I sighed at the truth in her words. If my mother was anything, it was dramatic. Her reactions were never rational when it came to negative things. I winced as I thought of her raging, and nodded in agreement. I gave Evie a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Aunt Evie, I'm fine, really." My smile was small but I made it work as she patted my cheek and turned back to her beloved plants.
The relief flooding through me calmed my nerves. I bounded up the stairway to my room.
My haven. I chuckled as I threw my bag down in the closet. The room was small but neat, evidence of my personal version of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Time wasn't on my side if I was going to get cleaned up before the fitting, and I groaned as I headed for the tiny bathroom down the hall and grabbed the salve.
It was green and sticky, but the dragon root mixture Evie made did wonders for sore muscles and bruises. I rubbed it on the blooming purple fingerprints, the only physical reminders of my little confrontation during the walk home. I examined my reflection in the mirror.
The red hair I'd thrown back into a ponytail before school was now loose, causing tendrils to fall and frame my face. The dark green eyes looked full of fear, almost wild above the circles, light purple against the pallor of my skin. At eighteen, the childish roundness had left my cheeks and made them gaunt across bones a bit too fragile.
I hurried to throw a shirt over my arms as I heard the whirlwind of noise my mother always made when she returned home from work. Her voice met me now as I left my quiet solitude and stood at the top of the stairs to watch her.
"Annie, you seemed to have survived." Ivy's grin was bright as she pulled off her lab coat and threw it over the purse she had dropped beside the door. "See, I told you. It must not have been that bad, eh?"
No, worse.
I trotted down the steps, grabbing the white coat to hang up for her. I'm neat; Ivy's not.
"How were things at the store?"
My mother chuckled as she hugged me. "Exhausting. Taking care of those
old people wears a girl out."
My tongue clicked against my teeth as I hung her coat up on the rack in the back of the hall closet, smoothing the thin white cloth. Ma worked behind the pharmacy counter at Floyd's Drug Store at the edge of town, mixing prescriptions for those who have come to love her for her good sense and common wisdom. She had the exact opposite effect I had on people, and I was glad for it. It kept her happy to be wanted and needed. At Floyd's, that's exactly what she got.
I met her in the kitchen, not surprised to see she already had her cards out and was spreading them into a configuration across the table. The kettle on the stove had just begun to steam. I grabbed mugs and the tea bags down for the afternoon ritual we had started in my childhood.
"What do you see, Ma?" I asked as I put bags in our mugs.
Ivy's brow knitted as she concentrated on the colorful array spread out before her.
The tarot was her talent. Each card spoke to her in a way they had never spoken to me. The cards spoke to Ma just as Aunt Evelyn's herbs and star charts responded to her patience. You'll find your gift soon enough, Annie, my mother had told me through my many failed experiments, with the cards, the charts, powders, and spells. I chalked it up to my rebellion against their workings, but now I wondered if a talent of some kind, any kind, couldn't have helped me this afternoon.
I placed the mugs on the table and joined her as she swept the cards into her hands and passed them to me in silence. Their worn surfaces felt cool against my palm before I shuffled them, concentrating on nothing but myself as they shifted into an order of importance. I set them on the table in front of her and waited, wondering if my secrets would be exposed to the one person I didn't want to share them with.
Her thin fingers split the stack into three separate piles, then collected them up once more into a single one before picking the first three off the top. Ivy's lips were moving along with her hands as each card was flipped to expose the pictures underneath.
"The Queen of Swords. King of Wands. And the Ace of Wands."