by Jolene Perry
“Okay, Mom. Now you’re making it embarrassing.” My words come out okay, but I’m feeling all mixed up and panicky over this weird flash thing I’m still getting from her.
“Sorry, sorry.” She backs away and sits down. “It’s just a big deal, you know?” Her voice has tinges of concern.
It’s a huge deal. She can’t even begin to comprehend what a big deal it is.
“You two haven’t known one another all that long.”
“No.”
She’s right. I know this. I’ve thought the same thing. But the crazy vision from her still spins in my head, making me only half in this conversation. White. Black. Fear. There’s no detail, and it makes no sense.
“And I know there was some sort of falling out.” Her eyes are fixed on me.
I nod. “Totally my fault.” Mostly my fault, but part his, too. It seems safer to keep that to myself. What can the flashes of black and white mean? Will I be glad or hate that I can do this thing?
“And you know him well enough for a sleepover?” Her lips are pursed a bit and her eyes narrow just slightly. It hasn’t really come up before. I’ve never put her in a situation to worry about me like this.
“Definitely.” I say it with confidence even though I can’t back it up with the information that I want to.
“Okay.” She nods in acceptance. “You were careful, right? I mean, I know you’re a smart girl but all of us sometimes get swept up and—”
“Mom. We did not have sex.” I redden again in embarrassment, but I see the benefits of having a parent trust you. Our conversation happens like this instead of one of us yelling from the porch like Landon and his dad.
“Okay.” She raises her hands up, and I think she believes me, but I’m not positive.
“So, you and Ethan.” If I can be grilled, so can she.
“It’s the real thing, Micah. Like I wasn’t sure I’d ever get, and was starting to doubt it even existed.” Mom’s concerned face has turned into a wistfully happy one.
“I’m glad.” And now that I have Landon, and something that feels like a small amount of stability, I really mean it.
“I’m happy that you had a nice night.” Her head tilts to the side, as if she’ll somehow suddenly be able to read my mind or something. “But it still freaks me out a little.”
I can tell that I’m about to suffer a new round of embarrassment, but I hear shuffling in my room. “I’m going to stop him before he tries to go out the window.”
“Is that how he came in?” She looks incredulous.
“He didn’t know you were gone.” I touch her arm as I start toward my room.
A flash of me and then Ethan. Back to normal. Maybe I need to call Dad about the black and white flashing.
“How on earth did he navigate those huge bushes?”
“They’re now called the bushes of death.” I stifle a laugh as I hit the short hallway and open my door. Landon’s standing in the middle of my room with his jacket in his hand. I’m still half-euphoric at him being here.
“I can’t believe you and your mom.” His cheeks are flushed pink.
“You’re embarrassed. It’s cute.” I reach out and run my fingers down his stomach. Pictures of our night flood my mind. I love it. I wonder how many more times I’ll be able to live it before his mind goes to something else. Or my mind does. I have no idea how this works.
He takes a small step toward me, letting our bodies and faces touch.
I can’t see his eyes. We’re too close.
“Feeling this much is sorta new for me, so if I start to mess up, you’re gonna have to call me on it,” he whispers.
“Me, too.” I tighten my arms.
“Good. I want some firsts with you.” His whisper is quiet and sends a wave of shivers through me that I can’t wait to feel again.
“Thank you. Maybe next time you won’t run away first thing in the morning,” I tease.
“Your mom scares me.” He pulls away so I can see his face.
“Because she’s so nice?” I pull his body toward me, but lean away so I can still see him.
“Something like that.” He bends forward and kisses me.
I pull him closer and kiss him harder. I’ve felt so alone. Being with him shows me so much of what I’ve been missing.
“I’ll be stuck with my folks a bit today, but I want to see you.” I feel his hands in my hair, running his fingers through the curls.
“Avoid the bushes of death and use the door, okay?”
He chuckles a little. “Okay.” He slides his jacket on, and I’m sad for it our first night to be over. It feels as if something will break and things between us won’t be the same. Which is crazy, right?
“Ready?” I step toward the door.
“Your mom’s out there?” He leans away from me.
“Yes, and she knows you’re in here so if you avoid seeing her by crawling through the bushes she might get offended.”
“And she’s not mad I was here last night?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“I’m trusting you.” His fingers brush the side of my face, and this moment is all I see.
“Good.” I step closer and kiss his cheek.
This is what it’s like to fall in love. I never want it to end.
TWENTY-FOUR
I’m not sure if I should be afraid of the woods around my house anymore or not. If it was Lacey, have I made my peace? Paid my price?
The idea that the voodoo woman and the shadows could be real sends random waves of panic through me.
I know nothing, and probably, I’d be better off to keep it that way. It’s been two weeks since Landon and I worked things out, but this is my first trip to his house.
The sun’s going down, but it’s still light. It seems safe. Am I supposed to be afraid of the shadows if they’re here? I mean, I am afraid, but I’ve stood on the trail and spoken with the nothing/something that might be out here. Maybe I felt more depressed on that day than I thought, simply not caring if something happened to me. I stare at my feet on our small driveway that leads to Landon’s house. Right now it just seems better to not know. Not looking means not knowing.
Walking only lasts for a few steps before I take off into a run. The pavement stops me. Landon’s house stands nearly as imposing as my trip through the woods.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, walking up to his house like this. Not just Landon’s house, the Michaels’ house. Senator Michaels. The weirdo who I almost ran into at the edge of the trees. I stand next to the front door, take one slow breath in, and slowly exhale. I shake my arms out a few times, until I think I might be able to make my voice sound normal if Landon’s not the one to answer the door.
When I hit the bell, my hand jerks back, and I shift my weight. Please be Landon, please be Landon…I start to turn away when the door opens.
Mr. Michael’s frame fills up the large doorway. He’s in slacks, and a dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. Like he’s trying to be casual, but the material is too nice for that. I suck in my breath. My voice is gone, completely. I open my mouth a few times to speak, but I can’t make it happen. Not good.
“Nice to see you again, Micah.” His deep voice vibrates through me, and sets my nerves even more on edge.
All I can see is the man peering out from underneath his raincoat hood in the dark.
“Hi…uh, sir.” Sir? Do I sound like a complete moron? I rub my hands on my hips a few times and then realize we should probably shake hands. He’s a senator. What will he be thinking about? The latest bill? Committee fights? Page boys? Interns? His wife? Will it be rude if I don’t take the initiative?
He steps back, making space for me to walk through. “We were just talking about you. Come on in.”
“Me?” My heart’s hammering. I definitely don’t want to know what the conversation was about.
“Yes.” He pats my back.
Four boys running in the yard, pride, laughter, sunshine.
It takes
me a moment, but I finally find Landon. He’s the youngest and has the biggest smile. It actually relaxes me. Anyone who feels this for their children is a good man. Mr. Michaels is taller than Landon, well over six feet. His brown hair is tinged with gray and he walks and moves with purpose and confidence—easily, calmly, and without hesitation. Though he is in his house.
“Micah.” Mrs. Michaels waves me in. “It’s so nice to see you. Come sit down.”
“Thanks.” I step slowly into the living room and sit on the edge of a large chair. “I was, um, looking for Landon. He asked if I’d come over?”
“He’s in his room.” Mr. Michaels sits down next to his wife. Neither of them make any move to get Landon or tell me where he is.
Right.
I’m suddenly in an interrogation room. I’m sure of it. They’re on one side of the coffee table, together on the couch. I’m across from them. On the very edge of the chair. By myself.
“How are you and your mom liking the house?” Landon’s mom smiles.
“Very much. Thank you.” I fold my hands in my lap. Maybe I should have changed before I came over. I look down at my faded jeans that could probably use a wash, and old T-shirt. Landon’s mom is in off-white slacks, and her sweater is probably cashmere or something. Their house feels too large and clean for me.
“Are you headed to college in the fall?” Mr. Michaels asks.
“Yes.” Okay. Safe answer. I’m okay. I’m doing okay.
“Do you know where yet?”
“I’ve been accepted to U of W, CSU, OSU and a few schools near my dad, on the east coast.”
“All on the coasts, huh?” Mr. Michaels asks.
Without meaning to, I breathe in at the thought of it. “I love the water.”
“Landon, too.” Mr. Michaels sits back on the couch, touching his chin with his hand.
“He’s kind of a loner that way.” I don’t even mean to say it out loud, it just comes out.
“A loner?” Mr. Michaels sits up. “Landon?” A smile breaks out across his face. “That kid seems to find himself in large groups doing all sorts of things he shouldn’t be doing.” He’s still smiling, but there’s an edge of irritation to his voice.
“Sometimes there’s more solitude in large groups.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Hmm.” The Michaels exchange glances. “That’s very perceptive.”
“Jane Austen. It’s in one of my favorite lines from Persuasion,” I explain. Will I sound like I’m just trying to suck up?
“You read a lot?” Mrs. Michaels asks.
“All the time.”
“Oh, well.” Mr. Michaels stands. “Follow me.”
I glance at his wife who gives me an encouraging smile, but leans back into the couch. Guess she’s not coming. Perfect. I try to shake out another round of nerves.
I stand up and follow the senator. Where’s Landon? Can’t he hear us down here? Where is Mr. Michaels taking me? Can I just run out of the house and not look crazy? Sadly, I already know the answer to my last question.
“Has my son mentioned this scheme of his to you?” He glances over his shoulder.
I’m following him down a hallway, still on the first floor.
I sift through our conversations. If I say something Landon hasn’t talked to his dad about, I might get him in trouble. I’m guessing this has to do with taking a year off of school to sail, but I’m not even sure if Landon’s that serious about it.
“I take your silence to mean he probably has.” Mr. Michaels stops at a set of double doors and opens them, motioning with his hand for me to go through.
I step into the dark. The light comes on, and I’m in a library. It’s two stories tall with a balcony and everything. I feel like I’ve stepped onto the set of My Fair Lady.
“This is incredible.” I exhale.
“Yeah, all my boys like to read. And I’d be lying if I said that part of it wasn’t just the idea of having a spot like this in my house.” A corner of his mouth twitches as he looks around the massive room.
I appreciate his honesty, and start to think that maybe my first impression of him was off.
“What will you do in school?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” I know Mom really wants me to go. Almost like she needs me to after it taking her so long. “Probably English, because I love reading so much.”
“Always best to work toward your strengths.” Mr. Michaels’s shifts his weight next to me. “I’m sure you have some interesting talents, Micah.” His words worm through me, making me uneasy—like he’s hinting at the thing I don’t tell anyone. Did Landon say something to him about my visions? No. There’s no way. Is there...?
“Um.” I have no idea what to say. Not when it feels like he might be implying something I’m nowhere near ready to admit. I feel shaky now, nervous. I scan the room. The only way out is the way we came in. Will it matter? Where is Landon? I swallow the ball of nerves that’s lodged itself in my throat. “I guess.” Only I can’t really think of any “interesting talents” aside from my visions, which seem to be broken at the moment—the weirdness from Mom being my evidence.
“Hmm.” His eyes still study me too carefully.
Why did I come? Why didn’t I text him on my way over to make sure he was the one who opened the door? That would have been pretty simple.
We stare at one another for a few moments. Now I have to break my eyes away to look around the large room again. That should seem normal. Not rude.
Okay.
The mood on his body is suddenly lighter. His face holds an easy smile. I no longer trust it. “What do you think about Landon taking off on his trip?”
I’m afraid to answer. “I think he knows what he’s doing.” I picture Landon at the wheel of his own sailboat and smile. “He’ll love it.”
“He’s taken you out on the boat, hasn’t he?” Mr. Michaels sits on the corner of his desk. “It’s okay. I know he does it.”
I nod. “We just sat on the bow.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment. Where is Landon?
“You know Landon has a bit of a reputation where girls are concerned?”
Is he warning me? Trying to scare me off? No matter what, talking about Landon is way easier than talking about my possible talents or staring in silence.
“Yes he does. They all hate me right now.” It seems like a safe answer. I just want out of here. Away from him.
Mr. Michaels laughs. “Well, I can see why he likes you so much, Micah. I hope I didn’t scare you away. Aside from this crazy scheme of his, I really think you’ve been good for him.”
I’m not sure how to answer. The compliment is simple, but also a bit overwhelming. “Thanks.” The smile relaxes my face and lets me take in a nice breath without gasping for air. And then I remember I don’t trust him.
“I’m good at reading people, always have been. It’s served me well.” And there it is again, the look that tells me he’s watching me too carefully.
“Oh.” Is he trying to say something with that comment? Is he reading me right now? What does he think? Do I pass his test? Is it a test?
“Landon’s probably the smartest of my boys, not as motivated of course, but definitely smarter.”
I nod. I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment.
He gestures around the room with his hand. “You’re welcome to borrow anything you like from in here, anytime. You don’t have to ask. Just knock before you come in.”
“Thank you.” But all I care about is how can I get out of here and away from this man who’s looking at me way too closely.
“You can’t take anything from that upper wall over there.” My eyes follow his arm up as he points. “Those are all first editions, snobby kind of stuff. They have to stay here.” He laughs, puts his arm over my shoulder and leads me out of the room. It’s the exact same picture, but I see Landon’s face more clearly this time.
“Thanks for chatting with me, Micah.”
“Thank you.” Th
ere’s really nothing else to say.
We stop and Mr. Michaels gestures with his hand. “Follow these stairs to the top, his name is on his door.”
“It was nice to meet you.” What else do I say? You scare me? I think you’re hiding something? What is it? You’re way too smooth… I might be psychotic and seeing things that aren’t there?
“Nice to meet you too, Micah. Don’t be a stranger around here. Landon likes you a lot.”
I don’t have any idea what to say, so I nod before starting up the stairs. I know without looking back that he’s watching me go.
TWENTY-FIVE
Landon’s room is marked with his name, as promised. The house feels even bigger from the inside. I knock quietly on his door.
“I don’t need another lecture about maturity today.” He calls.
“I wasn’t planning on giving you one.” I open his door slowly.
“Micah.” His smile fills his face. “If I’d known you were here, I’d have come downstairs.” He climbs over the back of his couch and grabs me into a hug.
Us dancing. His hands slide across the blue silk. Love. Contentment. Wow. Prom. It sort of got lost in the shuffle.
“Gonna tell me? Or are you still on the no-telling policy.” He raises a brow.
“Never going to be on the no-telling policy again. You’re taking me to Prom.” I smile.
“Well, I guess that’s the easy way to ask.” He laughs. “Awesome.”
My heart completely swells at this. We really, really are okay. The shakiness from earlier is starting to disappear—the part of me that wondered if we’d be able to move past what I put between us. What we both put between us.
“I met your parents.” And the nerves come back just thinking about it. “I mean, I’ve met your mom. You already know this.” Why am I so nervous? “But I’ve only sort of met your dad.”
“How was it?” He keeps his arms around my waist, but leans back far enough to see my face.
“He’s nice. He loves you guys a lot—you and your brothers. It took me a while to find your face. He sees you all as pretty little.” I run the picture over in my mind again, but am still a bit creeped out by the way his dad looked at me.