A Phoenix First Must Burn

by A Phoenix First Must Burn (retail) (epub)

  Well, and one cemetery where every slave owner turned Confederate war hero is buried right next to several local distinguished members of the town’s civil rights movement. The irony clearly escaped the town as it crawled and then leapt into the twenty-first century.

  Nighttime fell like a shroud and settled over the misty cemetery as I pushed open the creaking gate.

  I stepped right into a puddle as soon as I entered. The muddy water soaked my toes through the mesh of my sneakers. I should’ve worn better shoes. Not that I was used to this sort of thing. I mean, what did you wear to creep into a cemetery? What if there were grave robbers? Were those still a thing?

  Stone angels were scattered throughout. Hovering over graves, watching over them, I supposed. Some had eroded over the years and now had moss growing where eyes had been and vines encircling their wings and necks.

  If the girl from the library was a vampire, this was where she would be, right? Mainville has no abandoned houses, no warehouses to squat in. The cemetery seemed like the next best option.

  I wandered through the tombstones, looking for some sort of hint—an opened aboveground tomb, an unearthed coffin—until something grabbed me.

  I screamed. It yanked me back. I pulled away only to trip on a tombstone. Without a glance back at my attacker, I scrambled up and didn’t stop running until I passed through the cemetery gates.

  “Uh, hey. Are you okay?” called a voice. A girl emerged from the shadows of the dimly lit sidewalk.

  I jumped back. It was her—the girl from the library. The maybe-vampire, her dark skin flawless in the moonlight. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  She eyed me suspiciously, then glanced around the moonlit road outside the cemetery. “Walking down the street?”

  “Right,” I said. “That makes sense.”

  “You have a tree branch stuck in your hair.”

  I touched the back of my head. Sure enough, a tree branch. Then it dawned on me—I was attacked by a tree. I started to laugh, doubling over on the sidewalk.

  She lifted a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I straightened up and imagined how I must look to her. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Oh my god, you’re bleeding.” She pointed to my left leg. My jeans were ripped, and blood soaked the fabric just below my knee.

  “Here.” She handed me a first-aid kit from her backpack.

  I opened the kit and doctored myself up, and all the while she stood there. Her eyes didn’t widen, her breath didn’t grow ragged. She barely flinched as I cleaned up the blood.

  “You should be careful. That cemetery isn’t safe.”

  I laughed shakily. “Why? Because something might find me in there?”

  “Uh, no, because of this.” She pointed to a sign next to the gate. CEMETERY CLOSED FOR CONSTRUCTION. UNSTABLE GROUND. “This whole town is built on a swamp.”

  How did she know that? She must’ve just moved here. After all, Mainville is small—I knew everyone my age.

  As if she read my mind, she replied, “It’s Louisiana.” The girl laughed. “Besides, my aunt’s really into small-town history. She’s an antiques collector.”

  Antiques collector? What a perfect vampire job. “So you’ve been with her your whole life?” I imagined them traveling from town to town, never staying long enough to be detected. Classic.

  “Um, not really. Just recently. Since my parents died.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled. “It’s okay. Are you doing anything right now? I mean, aside from robbing graves.”

  “I wasn’t rob—”

  She laughed.

  “You were joking.”

  “Uh-huh.” She kicked a pebble around with her foot. Then she cleared her throat before continuing. “I, uh, heard there’s this diner, Shirley’s, that everyone visits. I figure even grave robbers have to eat.”

  “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. So you in?”

  “Sure! I like food.”

  She laughed again, and I wanted to kick myself. I like food. Really?? Just bury me in this cemetery right now. “Maybe I should get your name,” I rushed to say.

  At which she laughed even more. “It’s Corrie.”

  “Ayanna,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you, Ayanna.” She smiled at me and I blushed.

  Only when we were halfway there did I wonder: Did I just get asked out by a vampire?

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Several minutes later we were at Shirley’s. The diner in town. The only one.

  One diner. One church. One cemetery.

  We were seated at one of those booths. You know the ones, striped colors. Me across from Corrie. Meh diner light that complemented no one. Except her. She was even prettier than at the library. And her lips were the brightest pink.

  My eyes trailed down to her crisp, white button-down that plunged into a V—

  “Hon.”

  The waitress stood before us. Corrie looked expectantly at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. Heat rose to my cheeks. “Um, I’ll have the chicken tenders and fries, and you—” I turned to Corrie.

  She grinned. “I ordered a milkshake.”

  Way to go, Ayanna. Was it obvious I’d been checking her out?

  The waitress gave me a knowing smile. Yup. Definitely obvious. Invisibility would be great right now.

  No, I reminded myself. She clearly likes you. Why else would she randomly ask you out?

  I took a deep breath and relaxed. Moments later we were deep in conversation. First we raved about our favorite Buffy episodes and our favorite book adaptations.

  “You can’t tell me you seriously liked that movie,” Corrie said, referring to Queen of the Damned, which I’d started gushing about. “I mean, come on. It totally messed up the book.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “First of all, Aaliyah was a genius, and her starring as Akasha was a gift.”

  “Fair. Rest in power,” she said.

  “Second, the soundtrack is everything.”

  “True.”

  “And third—”

  The waitress came by and placed down our food. One massive order of chicken tenders and an even larger basket of fries. Corrie’s milkshake was bigger than her face.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Do you have any garlic powder? You know, like garlic fries?”

  Corrie didn’t bat an eye. The waitress came back a moment later with a shaker full of garlic, and I shook it all over the fries.

  I offered the basket to Corrie, bursting with curiosity. If she was a vampire, how would she react? “Want some?”

  “Never had garlic fries before, but first time for everything.” She took a handful, dunked them in ketchup, and stuffed them in her mouth.

  I wilted. Maybe I got a bit ahead of myself on this whole vampire thing.

  “So you were saying about Queen of the Damned?” she prompted.

  We got in a heated debate over whether Tom Cruise or Stuart Townsend was the better Lestat that ended in laughter and a truce.

  She reached for the final fry. “We’ll split it.”

  And as she broke it in half, I smiled. Maybe it didn’t matter if she wasn’t a vampire. For the first time, I didn’t feel so alone.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  We took our time wandering back to my house. I didn’t want the night to end.

  She was the first to break the silence. “So why did you move here, if you don’t mind me asking? Doesn’t seem like this is your kind of place, either.”

  I started to brush it off. Then I looked up at her, calm running through me. A sense of ease. Of belonging I hadn’t felt in a while. Three hours talking at Shirley’s, and it felt like not eve
n twenty minutes.

  “Last year I got asked to homecoming by this guy . . .” I paused, taking a sharp breath as the memory flooded back to me.

  “Did you like him?”

  “No,” I admitted. “We were just friends. Not even that. My friends convinced his friends to have him ask me. He walked up to me at my locker and was just like, ‘You want to go to homecoming?’ It made sense, you know. My friends were all dating his friends, and we were the two oddballs.”

  Corrie looked skeptical. “Your entire friend group was dating his friends?”

  I laughed, embarrassed. “Yeah. They’re Slytherins. I can’t act like it was incidental.”

  “And you?”

  My cheeks warmed. “Total Ravenclaw. You?”

  “Gryffindor . . . Slytherin?” She nervously shuffled from side to side. “I don’t know.”

  I glanced doubtfully at her. “You’ve never read them, have you?”

  She shrugged. “Well, what can I say? As we know from Anne Rice, vampires and witches don’t mix.”

  I cracked up.

  “So you were saying?” she reminded me.

  My giggles broke off as the memory returned. “Right. He asked me to homecoming. My mom lost it, as in I’ve never seen her so happy. She took me dress shopping. Makeup done. Hair. She tried to give me her pearls. It was the first time I felt like I could be the daughter she wanted me to be, instead of . . . well, me. But then he left me on the dance floor for someone else.” The shame felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. “So I came home early. My mom found me on the bathroom floor, dress soaked in tears. The next day, my friends barely spoke to me. They said I ruined their homecoming plans, whatever those were. That it was my fault he left me, that maybe if I would loosen up more he would’ve been into me. They felt we had grown apart. We stopped talking after that. I’ve struggled with depression my whole life, but after that I just felt so isolated—so alone. My parents agreed I needed a new environment. For healing.” I paused. “Sorry. Total downer, right?”

  Corrie shook her head, and sympathy filled her eyes. “More like you deserve friends who treasure how amazing you are.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I mean it.” Corrie took my hand. “You’re smart. Clearly. Your friends . . . that dude, they have their own stuff they need to deal with, but you’re certainly not to blame.”

  I nodded. “I know that now. But thank you. I wish I had met you then.”

  She smiled at me, and I found myself again staring at her lips. “But then you never would’ve met me now.” She gazed up at the night sky. “Besides, I get it.”

  When she looked back, her full gaze was on me.

  I cleared my throat. “May I kiss you?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  I kissed her. Right in front of my home. Her arms wrapped around my body, electricity and heat rising through me. I kissed her like there was nothing else in the world, like . . .

  Something sharp pierced my lip. “Ouch!” I touched my mouth. I tasted copper. “Did you just—?”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, pulling back. Her hand immediately went to her mouth, hiding her . . . fangs? “I didn’t mean to, I—” She stepped into the shadows cast by the trees surrounding my home.

  “Corrie, wait,” I pleaded, but she was already gone. Vanished again. Leaving me, alone, at my front door.

  My phone buzzed. A text from Mama. Dinner’s been ready. Where are you?

  I glanced around once more, hoping she’d reappear. I thought of all the things I could say to her. To tell her I wasn’t afraid. But she was gone. And, like always, it didn’t matter what I wanted.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Mama had laid the table, and Daddy had cooked. Salmon with pilaf and green beans. My favorite, and they both knew it.

  The highs and confusion from my evening with Corrie evaporated. Dread settled in their place.

  Mama pulled out a chair. I sat.

  Daddy reached over and placed his hand on mine like he had Mama’s last night. That scared me even more than whatever he was about to say. “We want to tell you something.”

  “This isn’t working,” Mama announced, blunt as always. “And it’s not you, baby. It’s us.”

  Daddy nodded.

  “We need time. We need some space from each other.” Mama smiled, and that only made it worse. “Now, we would never ask you to choose.”

  “Best you stay with your mother,” Daddy cut in. “You need the stability.”

  “What about you?” I whispered. Every syllable felt like he was punching me in the heart.

  “I’m going back to Chicago. They offered me my position back.” The way he said it was so easy, like he wasn’t about to rip our family in half.

  Divorce. Divorce.

  Suddenly I was slipping past them. Up the stairs to my room.

  “Ayanna!” Mama called as I slammed the door.

  “Give her space,” Daddy said, but she rushed after me.

  Mama tried to push open the door. “Ayanna, I—”

  “I’m fine.” I glared at all the vampire memorabilia around me. Even my supposed sanctuary couldn’t protect me now. “I just need space. Okay? I need some time.”

  I waited until she left, glass shards in my chest, and then I knocked down the books, the shows, the films. I ripped down the posters from the wall. Even my Prozac bottle tumbled to the floor. Down it all went, until I was crumpled on the ground, crying.

  All I wanted was to go back to laughing at Shirley’s.

  I could stay with Mama here, where every sentence she spoke was riddled with guilt. Or with Daddy, who saw depression as some sort of family curse.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t,” I murmured. I looked to my things, scattered all over the floor. I was seventeen. I could run away, but what would I do? Where would I go? Sooner or later I was going to have to make a choice.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  A knock at the window breaks through my teary haze. I stand up and move toward the glass.

  When I look down, she’s there. Corrie. The vampire. On the side of the house. Climbing it in a way no human could. I swear I see the glint of fangs in the moonlight.

  My phone buzzes. A text from Dad: Please come back down. Your mother and I love you very much. We’ll figure this out. I promise.

  But I don’t want to come back down. Don’t want to listen to their arguments, their tears. Never asking me what I want. Never once really bothering to try, any more than my “friends” back in Chicago. Well-meaning isn’t enough.

  I open the window, and the curtains sway in the breeze. The hot Louisiana summer air rises. I look at my list on the floor with all my notes.

  How can I care so much for someone I just met? Feel so connected to a girl I barely know? A calmness settles within me. For once, I want to live my way. By my own rules. By my own choices.

  “May I come in?” she asks, brown eyes shining up at me.

  My heart flutters. My lips curl into a smile. And I nod, because it’s the only thing that feels right.

  “Yes.”

  TENDER-HEADED

  By Danny Lore

  Akilah buzzes apartment 3C, because the witch has stolen another hair-braiding client.

  Everyone on their block knows Auntie’s a witch. Akilah’s mama knows: “Don’t go crossing Jayleen’s auntie,” she says. “Be polite, keep out of her way, leave her alone.”

  Akilah’s homegirls know, too: “I don’t know why anybody gets that ol’ woman doing their hair,” Tiana says, “when you’re cheaper, faster, and less creepy.”

  Jayleen’s daddy is Auntie’s favorite nephew, so even though they’ve been dating for a year, Jayleen never gives Akilah their opinion on the matter.

  Except today.


  “Lala,” Jayleen pleads. “Don’t start with Auntie.”

  For once, Akilah isn’t trying to hear it. When Sonia came around Akilah and Jayleen with a head full of fresh, beautiful extensions, Auntie had to be responsible. No one else on the block braids like Auntie does.

  Akilah holds up a hand to keep them quiet. “I’m tired of this.” She buzzes again; she knows the woman is upstairs, so she’ll do it for however long it’ll take. “That’s the third this month. Last week it was Derek, and I’ve been doing his hair for half a year. How long am I supposed to put up with her poaching my clients?”

  “You kind of poached them first.”

  Anyone else would get the full brunt of Akilah’s irritation, but even now Akilah can’t keep that momentum up with Jayleen. Her mama says it’s because Jayleen’s too sweet, too honest, but Akilah suspects it’s because of the way sweatpants settle on the curve of Jayleen’s hips. But still. “There ain’t no way that Auntie’s so gentle or amazing that it’s worth twice the money.” She buzzes a third and fourth time, barely seconds in between. “Bet their hair smells like musty old ladies and strawberry candies anyway.”

  “Maybe you need to treat your clients better, Lala.” Even annoyed, Jayleen uses Akilah’s nickname.

  Before Akilah started braiding hair, everyone went to Auntie unless their parents did it. Akilah heard how much people paid and was aghast; she learned to braid on cousins who wriggled and whined, and she realized that, if her clients could put up with a little roughness, she could get a full head done in half the time it took Auntie. So, she charged less, and soon enough, most of the girls and guys in her school who rocked braids were coming to her.

  And then the first one went back to Auntie. And then the next. And the next. It’s become a cash flow problem.

  “Oh, whatever.” Akilah sucks her teeth.

  “So what are you going to do, huh?” Jayleen moves to block Akilah from pestering the poor intercom. Akilah exhales in a huff. “You’re gonna fight an old woman over a few bucks?”

  “Your aunt isn’t just an old woman, and you know it,” Akilah hisses. “I’m not some bully—and I’m not stupid. I just wanna see what’s so special.” Jayleen frowns, confusion in their dark-brown eyes. “She’s gonna do my hair.”