Spark

by Rachael Craw

  At the sound of the safety latch, instinct takes over. I swing around and fly across the grass before she can pull the trigger. Her eyes flash wide before I ram her and we fall through the air in slow-motion catastrophe.

  Several things strike me in the vacuum of time. The sharp smell of panic sweat. The pounding of Jamie’s feet. His shout. Kitty’s escalating squeal. Two distinct heartbeats, one a frenetic metronome, the other a startled skip. The slow hurtling crossbow, turning over and over, glinting in the light. With an infusion of exquisite dread, precognition comes, midair. The crossbow will make three full rotations before it hits the ground, releasing the trigger, launching an arrow directly at Kitty’s head – if I let her take the impact of our fall. I grip her tight around the waist and turn her above me, extending my arm over my head, palm down, ready to catch the missile.

  Kitty lands with a mighty “Ooof!”, forcing air from my lungs. There’s a metallic click and a burning sensation in my right hand, Jamie above us, panting, swearing. Kitty struggles to get up but I hold her vice-like against me. I can’t take my eyes off my hand. I hold an arrow as if I’ve just picked it up off the ground. It’s hot in my palm like rope burn.

  “Evie.” Jamie kneels by my head and turns my face, his expression terrifying. The full horror of my mistake hits me. I gasp and release Kitty. She pulls back, sheet white. I sit bolt upright and drop the arrow like a stick of dynamite, and we all sit staring at it.

  “Kitty, I’m sorry,” I choke. I put her in danger – me and no one else. Nausea churns my stomach. I press my hands into the grass to still my trembling. “You could have been killed. I don’t know why – I didn’t want–” I shut my mouth. What can I say? That I was afraid for Jamie? The idea scrambles my brain.

  Kitty lets loose a wild whoop, frightening me as she bounces on her knees. “Did you see that? Bloody hell, Jamie!” But his face is impossible to read.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I – I was afraid.”

  He puts a hand on my shoulder and nods at his sister. “Look, she’s fine.”

  Kitty jumps up. “I’m going to tell Dad!”

  “No!” I shoot to my feet. “Leonard will freak.” But she’s already racing back towards the house. “This is terrible. Why would she tell him?”

  “I expect because it’s very good news. You don’t get it. It took me a month to develop reflexes like that. I mean, serious practice.” He rises up and moves towards me. “May I?” He takes my hand, his expression curious like he’s listening for something. My trembling eases and he turns my palm over and blows on the red mark, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “Smarts, yeah?”

  My whole body tingles. I swallow. “How did I do that?” I don’t mean catching the arrow. I mean jeopardising Kitty’s safety to protect him.

  “No idea.” He keeps up the circular pressure on my palm. “Incredible you could override your instinct like that. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  But that’s the thing, another instinct had taken over. It makes no sense. I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing I could undo it. “It was a mistake.”

  “I hope not.”

  My eyes pop open to find his gaze locked on mine.

  “Unless of course it was an insult.” He arches his eyebrow. “I might be offended if you thought I wasn’t up to catching an arrow.” His grin stretches out. “Works better for me if you couldn’t help yourself.”

  I’m too upset to laugh. “But it’s not good, is it?”

  “I would say it was exceptional – that you’re exceptional.” He shakes his head. “Wait till they get a load of you.”

  Before I can ask what he means he looks past me at the house. I follow his gaze. Barb watches us from the newly glazed kitchen window, her face like stone. I pull away. “She didn’t see that, did she?” I’m not sure if I mean the crossbow incident or the hand holding.

  “Judging by her expression, yeah, she did.”

  PROMISE

  I wake to the sound of quiet movement – Barb coming in with a tray of food.

  “This is how you sleep?”

  I’m so used to sleeping on top of the bed in sweatpants and sneakers that it takes me a moment to figure out what she means. “Is everything okay? What time is it?” I rub my eyes to erase the image of my nightmare, as though she might catch the shadow of it behind my eyes.

  “Early. Everything’s fine.” She sets the tray on a stool then turns to open the curtains on a pale morning. “I know you’ll be busy today, training and all.” She fusses with the tie backs. “Thought you might need something to get you going.”

  “Um, thanks. You didn’t need to do that.” I tuck my hair back and sit up, resetting my compass, reaching for Kitty. The reassuring tug in my stomach warms me, cleansing powers against the twisted night.

  “Dig in.” She lifts the tray onto the bed.

  I sip my juice, feeling awkward.

  “I wish you could make peace with your aunt.”

  An ambush. Guilt twists inside me. “I’m sorry, Mrs Gallagher.”

  “Barb, sweetheart.”

  “Sorry, Barb.” It still feels weird to say it. “I don’t mean to make things difficult. I’m trying to let it go but it’s almost like a – a stop sign I can’t get past.”

  “I’m not much of an example, am I? I reacted very badly. But the truth is, if I were Miriam, I would have lied too.” She gives me a sad smile. “You know I was jealous of Miriam when we were at school? I might have been April’s best friend but I could never compete with her identical twin. April would have done anything to keep you safe, Evangeline, and Miriam’s the same. She loves you like you were her own.”

  A lump forms in my throat. “I know. I’ll try.”

  She pauses. “One other thing. I realise this is probably not my business and it’s not my intention to pry, but I gather something’s going on between you and Jamie?”

  “Oh.” Heat blooms in my face. “I – uh, I mean, no.”

  “Evie, I’m not blind or stupid.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Jamie has a girlfriend.” Her eyes widen, embarrassed to have blurted it out. She fumbles in her pocket for a photo and places it on the bed. The image shows Jamie and a beautiful young woman with sandy hair and smiling blue eyes. They’re wrapped up in ski gear, their faces pressed side by side.

  A cold hand reaches through my ribcage and squeezes my heart. “Right.”

  I want to end the conversation this second. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “You must understand, Jamie would never intend to deceive you. He’s a good boy. But as I’m sure you are coming to realise – with the pressure he’s under …”

  I will her to stop.

  “Complications could be distracting and dangerous.”

  “Mrs Gallagher – Barb, seriously, there is nothing going on.”

  She raises her hand to stop me, her eyes over bright. “Evie, my children–” Her voice breaks. “You can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to know that at any moment your children could be taken from you.” Her voice rises. “And now here you are, my daughter’s life in your hands. And my son, his own burden to bear, not knowing when the next crisis will come for him.” She shakes and my insides knot. “I see the way he is with you, Evie. That’s why I can’t talk to him about this. He’d be furious with me for interfering.” Tears slip down her face, her jewelled hand at her mouth. “Promise you won’t let yourself be distracted. For his sake, for Kitty’s, for your own.”

  “Of course.” There is no other answer I can give.

  After breakfast, I want to drown in endorphins so I march out to the lawn, hoping Miriam has planned something gruelling, something that will wear me out so I have no energy left to think.

  Of course Jamie has a girlfriend, but if that doesn’t surprise me, why do I feel so depressed? It’s not like I have to give anything up – nothing exists between us. Besides which, I agree with Barb. I have enough going on and Kitty needs to be my sole foc
us. But still, I can’t deny the bitter aftertaste of loss.

  The muggy day has turned to rain but Jamie and Miriam seem unconcerned, waiting between the twin oaks that dominate the main lawn. Kitty waves me over and welcomes me under her umbrella. No evidence of a journal. For some reason that makes me feel better.

  “Right,” Miriam says, in the neutral voice she’s taken to using since things have gone sour. “We’ve worked a lot on your reflexes but it’s time to go hand-to-hand. You need to feel what it’s like to be in a fight – but don’t worry, we won’t let you get hurt.”

  “I don’t care about getting hurt,” I snap. What worries me is whether I’ll be good enough or fast enough. What if I’m too slow to pick it up? I’ve been itching to learn something that makes me feel useful. Reflex training is all well and good, but I need to know how to break a man’s neck, how to wrench a hip bone or drive someone’s nose cartilage into their brain. “Let’s do it.”

  “We still need to take it one step at a time. It’s about building on your strengths.”

  I sigh.

  “I’m talking about kinesthetic memory, or neuromuscular facilitation, as it’s known in the trade – like we’ve been practising at home with the sparing dummy and knife throwing. You see it, store it,” she taps her temple, “then do it.” She rubs her hands together then turns to Jamie. “Shall we?”

  A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. He takes a few steps back and positions himself, knees bent, arms loose at his sides.

  I hold my breath.

  Jamie nods.

  Miriam launches herself at him with ferocious speed.

  My eyes struggle to keep up.

  “Blimey,” Kitty whispers.

  Blimey about covers it.

  They look like they’re trying to kill each other. Miriam spirals over Jamie in a cartwheel blur. He counters with a low sweep of his leg to collect her ankle in landing. She flips back into a squat then they’re both in the air, twisting in a collision I expect to end in a heap of limbs. They land light and without interruption to their sparing. Transfixed, I will my greedy brain to absorb the details, feeling the tension in my arms and legs as my muscles twitch in response. Jamie laughs and dodges out of Miriam’s reach, pelting away from her. With Miriam hard on his heels, bellowing good-natured abuse, they disappear into the trees.

  Kitty and I wait for them to reappear, scanning the tree line for a sighting. I glance at her. She chews her lip.

  “If you want to go inside, I’d still sense you from here.”

  “I’d rather see. Imagining is worse.”

  I know from Miriam’s alley memory that she’s wrong. Not that I’ll point that out. Instead, I take her hand and stare at the trees, wondering how far Jamie and Miriam have gone, trying to ignore the strange stirring of jealousy about what they might be doing and why it’s taking so long.

  You’re sick.

  Jamie appears first, powerful body, phenomenal stride. I realise I’m staring in a way that’s unhelpful after Barb’s warning but he makes it impossible not to. Miriam follows and I hope I look as good as she does at full speed. They skid to a standstill before us, the fabric of their clothes darkening with the damp. They laugh and clap each other on the back; everybody’s friends with Miriam except me.

  “Not bad.” Miriam wipes the drizzle from her face. “You’ve been active what? Two years?”

  “Two and a half.”

  “You’re good.”

  “I was being a gentleman.”

  Miriam laughs but drops the smile when she turns to me. “Okay. Your turn.”

  “You think I’ll be able to do that?”

  “We’ll start with a some cat and mouse. Get some speed on. Try some blocking.” Her eyes move over my face in an awkward moment of indecision – will I spar with her or Jamie? She steps aside. “See if you can catch him.”

  Kitty gives me a bracing thumbs up and backs away with her umbrella, leaving me in the rain. “You’ll be right, Evs.”

  Jamie darts past, nudging me with his elbow.

  “Don’t go too easy on her,” Miriam says. “Make her work a little. Maybe try some obstacles.”

  “Come on, cat.” He jogs backwards, beckoning, taunting. I leap forwards, my feet sliding in the damp. He laughs and takes off across the lawn. The twinge of embarrassment spurs my speed, but as I lean into the wind, gaining momentum, adrenaline charges through me. I almost close the gap as we near the forest, but part of me holds back, afraid of what might happen if I catch him: us grappling in the damp grass, the urgent thrashing of limbs. Stop it. He slips through the trees, dodging quickly out of sight, and I skid to a halt, disoriented by the haze of grey and green. No sign of him. I turn on my heel, searching, feeling the cooler air chill my lungs and the clamour of my pulse.

  Wind rushes at the back of my neck. I spin and find myself nose to neck with Jamie. I gasp. The branches overhead still shiver from his sudden drop. Not even puffed, he stands relaxed, hands in his pockets, an electric four or five inches between us. Neither of us moves.

  “Want to try something?” His voice a low, warm vibration.

  I can barely nod.

  “All right. Concentrate. Forget about everything but me.”

  Well, I was already doing that.

  “Good.” He grins. “Try to block me when I move.”

  I stiffen.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to take hold of you. But you can stop me. Relax. You’ll anticipate my move.”

  It feels like an exam I’m sure I will fail.

  “Concentrate.”

  I would need to close my eyes and stop breathing altogether to do that. Instead, I inhale and exhale slowly through my mouth and wait. Something blurs in my peripheral vision then Jamie’s wrist appears in my right hand before I hear the slap of our skin or feel the jarring impact in my shoulder.

  “Wow.” Adrenaline surges through me like soda water. I stare at my pale hand around his bronzed wrist. I have to give my fingers a direct command to unclench, leaving white indentations. He winces. “Sorry,” I say.

  But his face transforms with a brief, brain-scrambling smile. “Again?”

  I nod.

  Jamie assumes his relaxed stance. “Watch me now.”

  This time I see it happen as my hand connects with his right forearm, hear the echoing smack, feel my body swing back and the twinge in my ribs. “Jamie!”

  A predatory glint narrows his gaze. The engine in my chest guns, the warning to flee flashes in my mind and I release his arm as though it burns my hand. An electric pause elapses.

  “You have three seconds.”

  I debate passing out.

  “Run, mouse.”

  In the first second, I can’t deny a major part of me wants to be caught. The next, I run. Crashing through the brush on the left, I map out a path through the undergrowth that will lead me to the splintering arm of the Border River, in the vague hope I can cross over and he’ll lose my signal. The third second hits and the sound of Jamie’s pursuit fills my ears.

  I hammer forwards, branches slapping my arms and legs. The ground, uneven with vines, broken logs and unexpected hollows, jars my steps. I vault a fallen tree trunk, landing untidily, my feet sliding on mud-slicked leaves. I resist the compulsion to squeal, right myself and almost trip again with the sound of Jamie closing in. But I find my footing and, as the roar of the river grows louder ahead, I mow through the last hundred yards like a locomotive. Even if Jamie can’t see me, he can’t help but hear me.

  The river’s edge arrives abruptly and I make a wild leap, the bandwidth going momentarily blank. I don’t quite clear it. Freezing water swallows my leg up to the knee and I gasp, swinging my arms in a chaotic windmill up the opposite bank. The bandwidth comes back to life.

  Jamie lands beyond a thorn break that runs parallel to the river and I veer left again to follow the bank. His low chuckle echoes through the undergrowth and I realise he could probably take me without breaking a sweat. It whi
ps my pride and I force myself to lengthen my stride. Ahead, rocks and trees obscure the path and I have a choice to cross back over the river, or turn right where the wall of thorns parts. At the last second, I lunge through a gap in the bracken but falter when Jamie’s hurtling body cuts through the trees far sooner than I expect. He collects me midair, a lung-crushing collision, turning us to take the force of the fall on his back. While we fly, the moment gives me the full feast of his expression and it isn’t the landing that takes my breath away.

  We skid a few yards, coming to a heavy stop at the base of a pine where we lie panting. “Are you okay?” he says.

  “I think so.” Conscious of lying on top of him, I sound strangled. “You?”

  His chest vibrates, a low laugh bubbling up inside him. “I’m good.”

  I push back onto my knees, too awkward and exposed, blood thundering in my ears. “How did I do?”

  “Very well.” He smirks, leaning on his elbows, streaked in mud. “You make a hell of a lot of noise. Great reflexes though. I should do all my training with you as bait.”

  “Nice.” I wrinkle my nose and try to find my feet. Jamie gets up, chuckling, and takes my hand, hauling me the rest of the way. My shirt clings to my skin, my ponytail has come loose and my hair hangs tangled and heavy. I regret my wet sneakers and self-consciousness.

  “No, I actually think you make me faster.” He pauses, frowning like he can hear something. “I’ve been wondering …” His hand feels hot around my cold fingers. I notice because he still holds them, tingling in his grasp. I wait for him to let go, to complete his thought, to look away.

  He doesn’t.

  With total clarity I see he will kiss me. It flashes in my mind like a brightly lit billboard and the want of it drowns the warning bells. I can almost anticipate the taste of him and the infinitesimal sway of my body, like something magnetic, draws me in. He moves slowly, unblinking, his thumb sweeping over my knuckles. His gaze moves to my mouth, his body closing the gap between us, his lips almost touching mine. I waver on the brink. It comes to me, late but loud – the cause for alarm – Barb. With painful resolve I push away. “I’m sorry.”