Authors: Fabio Bueno
Sean asked me to pick him up. We’re going to the hospital to see Boulder.
My guess is that Boulder threw the party because he felt unloved. I wish he could see what’s happening: all the calls and visits from students from both schools, the flowers and cards accumulating in his hospital room, the messages of concern and well wishes from everyone. They really care.
I just realized the obvious: Boulder is not with Sean and
me. This almost never happens. Actually, I can’t remember any other time.
Isn’t this strange? Maybe some people are just together because they have friends in common. Maybe Boulder is the glue that keeps Sean and
me together. Without the big man, a friendship between Sean and me would never happen.
Our words are scarce. Sean stares out of the window. He’s been gloomy and silent since the accident, the opposite of his usual self.
Sean told me he vowed to stop drinking. He still blames himself for Boulder’s accident. Himself, and his drinking. And Boulder’s drinking.
“I have to stop for gas,” I say.
“Sure,” he replies, not bothering to look at me. “What’s this noise?”
“The engine is shot up. I have no money for a mechanic. Boulder used to fix these things for me.”
Sean says nothing.
We park at a mostly empty Arco, and I go inside to pay the cashier. If I had a credit card, I could pay at the pump.
When I get back to the car to fill the tank, a red Dodge truck is parking besides my Volvo, on the other side of the pump. The driver, a bulky, bearded guy in a plaid shirt, leaves the truck and walks to the 7-Eleven store.
A trio of teenage boys at the side of the building motion to him. He walks over to them.
While I pump gas, Sean gets out of the car. He looks straight at the guy and the kids.
The guy inside the store has just paid for a case of Coors.
Sean goes to the back of my car and opens the hatchback.
“What are you looking for, Sean?”
He doesn’t answer. Through the window, I see him rummaging around the spare tire section. He gets out the lug-nut wrench.
“Sean?”
He walks toward the side of the store. The guy is handing the beer case to the group.
My responsible self makes me stop pumping and close the gas tank before I go after my friend. “Sean!” I yell.
The kids and the guy are staring at him now, utterly confused. Sean just keeps walking. When he gets there, he moves fast and swings the wrench at the case with all his strength. The bottles inside shatter with a loud noise.
“Shit!” The kid holding the case drops it and steps back with a terrified look on his face.
While I scramble to get there, Sean proceeds to smash the case in a rage. His face turns red all of a sudden. More glass-breaking sounds and the smell of beer fill the night.
I come from behind and say softly, “Sean, dude. Please stop.”
He stops. The kids are scared and about to leave the gas station for good.
The bulky man says, “Are you insane? What’s your problem?”
Sean turns and looks the man in the eye. The guy doesn’t back off. Uh-oh.
Then Sean runs back to my car.
“Yeah, you’d better,” the guy taunts.
But Sean passes my car and goes to the other side of the pump. He climbs the hood of the Dodge truck.
“Hey,” the guy yells.
Sean brings the wrench down on the truck’s windshield. It shatters, but the pieces hold together.
“Stop it!” The guy dashes to his truck, and I race after him.
Sean doesn’t hear him. He keeps hitting it like a madman. The guy gets there quickly, but even being much bigger than Sean, he doesn’t try to stop him. Sean jumps off the hood onto the ground.
The guy takes this chance to get closer to Sean. When I realize he’s going to clock my friend, I jump in front of him.
“Don’t!” I say, pushing him back.
His punch hits my arm. Holy cow, it hurts.
The guy is about to strike Sean this time, but Sean points the wrench at him.
“Back off, or I swear I’ll split your head open!” Sean screams. He’s bright red, and his eyes bulge. “Back off. Back off!”
The guy stops for a second. “You little shit. I’m calling the police.”
Sean growls. “Yeah. You do that. I’ll tell them how you bought beer for those kids. And how you just hit my friend. Who’s also a minor. Go ahead!”
The guy hesitates.
“Come on,” Sean says. “Oh, damn it, I’ll do it.” Sean gets his cell.
The guy looks at us. “You’ll go to
juvie.”
“Do I look like I care?” Sean yells.
The guy jumps into his truck and drives off, windshield shattered and all. I see his license plate and type it on my cell, just in case.
The station attendant comes out of the store. “Go now before I call the police,” he says, more scared than any of us.
“Yeah,” Sean says. “I know you saw the kids too. Don’t play dumb.”
The attendant goes inside, but he doesn’t go to the phone. He just stays by the glass door, watching us.
“We…uh…should get out of here,” I say.
He stares at me. “You okay?”
“Sure.” If my arm wasn’t firm from all the swimming, I’d be hurting a lot. I shake it off. “At least I wasn’t hit on the head again. What about you?”
“I feel better.”
“Did you get it out of your system?”
He smirks a bit. The first semblance of a smile since Boulder’s accident.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, getting into the car.
We leave the station.
“At least your car is running,” Sean says. “This noise worries me.”
“As long as it runs, I don’t care.”
“You always drive with both hands. You grab the wheel really hard.” Sean points to my hands.
In response, I relax my grip. “Can you blame me? I almost got beat up.”
“No, I mean, you
always
do it. Even before Boulder’s accident.”
I don’t answer. It’s probably because I’m concerned about Mona. And my mother. And Skye. And Boulder. And the future. Damn, I need to loosen up. I’m turning into Dad.
My paranoid self checks the rearview mirror for a police car or the truck guy. “Still feeling like going to the hospital?” I ask.
Sean shakes his head. “Not tonight. We’ve been there every day.”
“How is the screenwriting going?”
“I stopped for a while. Sorting things out, you know. Hey, let’s watch a dumb movie.”
The movie takes our mind off Boulder. But when Jason Statham’s cop partner dies, I glance at Sean out of the corner of my eye. He is squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth.
I’m checking my collection of herbs when my cell rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Skye? This is Liam.”
“Who?”
“Liam. We met at the club the other night. We danced.”
Only then I recognize his sweet voice. “Oh, yeah. You’ve got some moves,” I say.
He chuckles. “You too.”
“Not good ones.”
“I’ll plead the fifth on that. So what’s up with you?”
“Nothing much.” It’s better than saying
a friend of mine is about to die, and I’ve been trying to support my bestie and my boyfriend
. People don’t want to hear that. “What about you?”
“I’ve been let down by my wardrobe recently. So you up for some shopping?”
Shopping is my main activity with Priscilla. She’s at the hospital right now, and I don’t want to go with anyone else. It’s like I’m betraying her.
“I’m not much of a shopper. Coffee instead?”
“Sure,” he says, but he sounds disappointed. “Should I pick you up now?”
“Could it be around six? I have a thing.” Yara and Greta are waiting for me.
“No problem.”
“I’ll text you the address later.”
We say our goodbyes. I feel bad leaving Drake and Priscilla taking turns at the hospital, but they both begged me to leave them. And I feel worse meeting Greta and Yara right after Priscilla told me how she felt about it. But I promised the girls I would show up.
***
Despite my earlier reservations, Yara, Greta, and I are having a good time.
“And this one time,” Yara says, “I tried to get out of a speeding ticket. I had a cigarette laced with Forget, and while the cop went to the squad car, I lit up. When he comes back, I blow the smoke right in his face. He takes a step back, and yells at me. I have no idea why it didn’t work, so I stick my head out of the car, and blow again. He pulls a
taser on me! Almost fires it too. My cig was a regular one!”
“That’s horrible, Yara,” I say.
“Nah. We worked it out later. Anyway, that’s why I couldn’t drive for a while.”
“What about you, Skye? Any embarrassing moments?” Greta asks.
“Well. Priscilla thought you were hitting on me that night at the club. The first time we met.”
Greta laughs. “Me? No, I’m straight. Well, straight-
ish. It’s hard not to kiss a girl once in a while.”
I try to think of a comment, but nothing comes to mind. It’s a different experience for me, being around Sisters my own age. I’ve always been a loner.
Greta says, “Hey, I have news. Look.” She stands up, turns around, and lifts her shirt a bit.
“A tribal…lower back tattoo?”
“Call it what it is, Skye: it’s a tramp stamp. But don’t worry. It’s temporary. One of mine, actually. Laced with an Energy potion.”
“It looks good. I’ve always wanted one there, but it’s hard to get over the stigma.”
“You can have one. The one I told you about. With Dispel.”
I’m tempted, but this one is supposed to be for Mona. “Maybe another time.”
“Come on!” Greta says. “Imagine your boyfriend’s face when he sees it.”
Yara’s face changes subtly, but she says. “Yeah.
Here.” She gives me a sheet with the design. It has a plastic cover on one side.
I think about it. I can have fun. I’ll need a Dispel in some form anyway when Connor makes me take the Truth potion for the deposition. “Okay,” I say.
“Use water to apply it.”
Greta goes out to get some water.
“How do you make it?”
“It’s pretty simple,” Yara says. “I need to print the design, right? So I just added the potion and a special emulsion into an empty printer cartridge. I print the design on the paper, and we’re done. It’s not topical—it needs to enter your bloodstream, so it’s okay to be in contact with your skin. Just don’t scratch it before you need it.”
Greta is back with a damp hand towel. I turn my back to her, and she applies the tattoo.
“Hey, it’s too low,” I protest.
“It’ll look hot. Trust me,” Greta says.
They’re so wicked. Between them and Priscilla, I feel like a prude.
I’m amazed by Yara’s expertise. I thought it was strange, having her and me, with such unique Charms, in the same city. What are the odds? But it makes sense. The Mothers probably tried to assemble the equivalent of an All-Star team of Sisters here to find the Singularity. Well, an Under-17 All-Star team, but still.
While we wait for the tat to dry, Yara says, “Here, try this.” She hands me a purple pill.
“What is it?”
“Just take it. You’ll be surprised.”
Since she knows her stuff, I decide to go for it. I put the pill in my mouth and swallow it.
“What now?” I ask.
“Give it a minute,” Greta says. “So Skye, tell us. How did you find the Singularity?”
“Didn’t your coven tell you?”
“They told us the girl, Brianna, goes to Greenwood and that you found her. And that she set the school on fire.”
That’s interesting. It’s funny to see it through their eyes. They know just a small part of the whole story. They don’t know about the fire—
All of a sudden, I see an image of Yara and Greta on fire. It’s like a vision.
“Whoa!” I blink a few times.
“What?”
“Nothing. Weird flashback.”
The two of them exchange a furtive glance. I must look like a fool.
“So tell us!” Greta claps excitedly. “Was it dangerous?”
I never thought of a fake version with all the details. I should’ve expected a request for a play-by-play eventually. But I give them only the highlights—from the
official
version.
“Yes. When I figured it out, I followed her to the school. She freaked out and set the gym on fire by accident. I escaped and dragged her outside.”
I don’t tell them about the knife at Mona’s throat. Or about saving Brianna and Drake with a commune ritual.
Then it comes again, a swift vision of Greta with her throat
impaled
by a knife.
“No!” I yell without meaning to do it. But Greta is before me, unscathed. Then her face blurs a little.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You’re tripping, Skye. Just relax,” Greta says.
“What are you talking about?”
Greta and Yara look at each other.
“What?” I ask. They’re hiding something from me.
Yara talks to me. “You took a happy pill. I mean, it’s going to make you a bit high—”
“Goddess, Yara! Did you drug me?”
She looks at Greta for support, but Greta doesn’t open her mouth. Yara says, “Yours is pretty mild. All the coven girls are doing it.”
“I don’t care! Is that why I’m hallucinating?”
Greta asks, “What do you see?” She’s a mix of concerned and curious.
“How do I stop it?”
Yara is worried too. “You can’t. Unless you want to waste the Dispel tattoo on it. It’s expensive, and it takes a long time to brew, but if you want to…”
I think about it. No, I’d better save it for when it’s really necessary. They don’t know it, but I need at least two: one to beat Connor’s interview, and one to give to Mona just in case. I am wearing one, and I already gave Mona the other.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll tough it out. I just don’t like this sensation.”
“You could just wait until the effects pass. Should be a half hour or so.”
“I need to go,” I try to stand up, but my legs are wobbly.
Yara pleads with me. “Please stay, Skye. Give it a little time, and you’ll feel better.”
“I
want
to go.” It’s not only the effects: Yara’s brightly painted house makes my head hurt—and the visions worse.
Greta bites her lip. “I can’t drive you. I’m high too. Can you call a taxi?”
Ack. I look up the time on my cell. Drake must be home by now, after spending the day at the hospital. And I don’t want him to see me like this.
I should call Priscilla, but I’d have to explain to her how I got “accidentally” high without mentioning magic.
The cell dings. Liam texted me. I forgot to tell him the address. Maybe he could pick me up. I don’t want to give him Yara’s exact address, so I just send him an intersection close to her house.