These Lying Eyes (14 page)

“It’s not from over here.” Dad’s morning voice, full of gravel, had Mina holding her breath.

“It was probably nothing.” Mom said. “Let’s enjoy the quiet while we have it.”

The door re-opened and shut.

Mina gasped, rolling onto her back and gazing up at the sky that was just beginning to brighten.

“How long do we have?” Zizi moaned.

“Sarah doesn’t go downstairs until seven or so.” Mina wheezed.

“So an hour.”

Mina shoved to her feet, staggered, and grabbed the sheet, dragging Sarah across the patio. Neither bothered to move her once she was inside the house.

Sarah’s alarm went off. Mina and Zizi’s eyes met, they froze, and then Zizi scampered across the floor and into Sarah’s room.

“I’ll clean her up. You have to shower; you have to cover for her.”

Mina looked across the expanse of her room, suddenly so much bigger than before, and then crawled to the bathroom.

Two full nights without sleep.

She had to haul herself up before stepping into the shower. Her legs shook until, she plugged the tub, and let it fill. Laying flat on her back in the tub, she let the water flow over her face, covering her in its clear blanket. The bite on her shoulder, the claw marks on her back burned in the hot, pure water. Mina waited until her lungs were burning and her hair was sopping, before she slowly, shakily sat up.

Mina removed all evidence of the fight and stepped, sopping, out of the water. Digging under the sink, she found first aid supplies, set two bottles and a clean washrag on the side of the bathtub.

She examined her wounds in the mirror. They were red, irritated, and jagged. Surely, they would become infected if she didn’t do something.

Her fingers didn’t want to pick up the two bottles and put them on the side of the tub. Not while knowing what would happen, but she did it anyway. Taking a clean washcloth, tossing it onto the ledge of the bathtub, Mina turned on the bathroom sink, the fan, Sarah’s little music player, and she stumbled back to the tub.

Mina knelt in the water, shoved the washcloth down her own throat, and squeezed her eyes tight. Without letting herself dwell on it, she dumped a bottle of rubbing alcohol over her wounds. Screams rose up in her, gagged on the washcloth, and what little squeaks remained were masked by the noise of the bathroom.

Tears streaming down her face, rocking back and forth in the tub, shivering and huffing through her nose, Mina waited until the stinging stopped.

It felt like an eternity.

Mina took out the gag, ragged breaths racked her. She laid her head on the side of the tub and heaved.

She’d placed two bottles on the rim of the bath. One of rubbing alcohol, one of hydrogen peroxide. Quivering fingers took hold of the second bottle. With jerking breaths, she twisted until she could see the bite mark, bit down on the washcloth, and repeated the performance.

This time, by the time the pain faded, her face was pressed against the cool wall, it was covered with tears and snot. Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get out of the bath.

Sarah was waiting, Mina thought.

Several minutes passed before she washed her face again and staggered to her bedroom, wrapped in a towel and weakness.

* * *

Poppy and Hitch had returned with an elderly sprite. Small, wrinkled with feather black wings, skin darker even that Poppy’s, and sharp eyes.

Mina didn’t even say hello. She stumbled to her bed, dropped onto it, and closed her eyes.

They doctored Mina and Sarah, covering them both in potions including one that would protect Sarah—sort of like a mystical bandage—while they dealt with the spell itself.

It all depended on Grace now. Her abilities and who she knew. Poppy’s Grandmother, however, was certain that Grace could help.

Mina prayed that Grace could.

“Mina, Sarah.” The voice of their Mom carried up the stairs.

“Thank you,” Mina mouthed, trusting her—once imaginary—friends with the safety of her very real sister.

Chapter 11

“W
hy are we going to school again?”

They were sitting outside, in the chill, but clear air.

“Something about your Mom.” Zizi, stretched out across Mina’s leg. They were on the same bench they’d been on yesterday. Sitting near the Vespa, watching other students pass by.

With energy and…stuff.

The jerks.

“Maybe if we got something caffeinated.”

“You have a bottle of tea in your bag,” Zizi yawned.

“Oh yeah.” Neither moved; neither opened their eyes.

Someone sat next to them, but they didn’t care.

“Mina?”

Max.

She cracked an eyelid.

With a tentative twist to his lips, he waited. Maybe for her to speak first? That wasn’t going to happen. No sign, she noted, of his dimple.

Without speaking, she lifted her brows.

“Can we talk?”

Mina nodded. She was too tired to speak.

“I…”

The wind blew in their faces; other students moved by, watching them out of the corner of their eyes before they were forced to stand and stare or move on.

“Maybe we can go for a walk?” Max asked, still hesitant.

Mina looked at Zizi, who nodded.

Slowly hauling herself to her feet, Mina walked away from the school. She paused to swallow a couple pain killers and forced down several large swallows of the tea. Looking back at the school building, with its dark doorways and small windows, she was happy to escape.

“I don’t know how to begin.” Max walked next to her, a steady, familiar warmth.

Mina looked over at him, continuing to stroll down the sidewalk. They passed other kids rushing the opposite direction, the smoothie shop, the glass blowers little shack. They went towards the downtown, Carousel Park, and the beach. Ocean Haven was bisected with brick footpaths that wove between buildings and away from traffic and adults who would tell on them.

Mina took the first one that ended next to one of the foot trails of Carousel Park.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about what happened.” His voice was soft, deep and husky. It gave her shivers.

She didn’t have anything to say to it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be friends again, but she couldn’t really explain.

Could she?

“I shouldn’t have avoided you after you got back from your…accident. I…I’m just sorry.”

They walked for a while, quiet. There was a touch of friendliness to their silence, though.

Mina took the path that would eventually pour out onto the green of Carousel Park.

“Can we be friends again?”

Mina was so tired she wasn’t sure she was thinking clearly.

“Please.” It was a very insistent plea, and she wanted to say yes to it. But even exhausted, she couldn’t forget how sad she’d felt the last few weeks. She thought maybe, just maybe, it would be better if they weren’t. Better lonely and honest than lying to her friend, waiting for him to notice her distraction and dump her again.

“Max, remember when I told you that you were better off without me? Maybe it would have been better if you’d just taken that offer.” There was no zombie monotone now. Emotion flooded her voice. Sorrow, frustration, anger.

“I remember,” he said quietly. “Do you remember climbing trees together? Do you remember going Trick or Treating, both of us as Superman? Do you remember eating lunch together every day for six years? You were my first and best friend.”

Mina looked at him, directly into his intense blue eyes.

“I screwed up,” he added as they stared at each other. “I get that, but I think I deserve a second chance. We’ve been friends too long to just give up.”

“You watched the video?” She asked, intentionally reminding him of just how bad that crazy episode had been. He hadn’t seen Poppy. He didn’t know what really happened.

“I was there; I didn’t need to.”

A thrill rushed through her. She had watched the video herself a few times. She knew it had been watched thousands of times. Again and again.

But not by Max.

Mina stopped moving, stopped avoiding him. She turned to face him again, met his eyes again, and said firmly, “I’ll tell you what’s going on with me.”

She took his arm, just above the wrist, knowing she might regret this when she wasn’t so tired. “I need you to swear. No kidding, no take backs, swear that despite how crazy it sounds, you’ll never tell anyone.”

Without a pause, he said, “I promise.”

“Ever.”

He nodded. “I understand. I promise.”

Mina took a deep breath, didn’t pause to consider, and told him, “Remember when we used to play with my imaginary friends. Climbing trees, leaping branch to branch when we shouldn’t have been able to. Chasing them through the woods. Having picnics, the whole thing.”

“Yeah, Hitch, Zizi, Poppy. Of course I remember.”

“They’re real. They’ve always been real. The reason I can see them is something I’m still working out. But that whole psycho moment in the hallway was me pulling that cow off of Poppy.”

Max pressed his lips together. She could see his jaw flexing.

“Are you screwing with me?”

She shook her head, not letting him look past her. If he was gonna dump her again, he was going to do it to her face.

Finally, they started walking again. Minutes later.

Full minutes of staring at each other.

She wasn’t sure he believed her, but either way, he didn’t want to leave and end it all. And that was ok. So, they moved on. Side by side. Silent, considering, careful steps.

They passed trees, a tangle of undergrowth, ferns overflowed their path, and the sun flickered through the tops of the towering branches.

“I can not believe you just…” Zizi’s wings fluttered; she was shocked.

Mina grinned at Zizi, giving her the slightest of nods. The disbelief wasn’t just on Zeez’s side.

She couldn’t believe she’d just spilled. But friends don’t lie to each other, do they? And maybe it was crazy to tell him, but she didn’t want to lie to him. So, he could take her or leave her, but at least she’d know she’d been honest with him and in doing so, been the type of friend she wanted.

“It is like once you gave up your secret; you could not help doing it again. Who will you tell next?” The scoffing in Zizi’s voice was electric.

And how Mina longed to tell Zizi to shut it.

“I saw them too. When we were little.” Max’s confession hung in the air.

“But you can’t see them now.”

He shook his head.

“Ok,” Mina said, remembering what Grace had said. Witches were drawn to each other, magic to magic. If Max saw them once, maybe he could again.

“I have a confession too.” His voice was careful, just as hers had been, moments ago.

Mina waited, but he didn’t make her promise.

“Last weekend, I went to the old school. I was…well, anyway. I followed our old escape path into the woods. Just…remembering.”

“You did?” They stepped out of the trees and onto the green. The morning light flooded the meadow, rabbits were nibbling at the verge, and there were even deer on the opposite side of the park.

“I missed you.”

Mina swallowed. She looked up at him, and he gave her a little half smile.

With a dimple.

A thrill rushed through her, and she suddenly knew she wanted to be more than just buddies with Max.

His hand brushed against hers as he spoke, “I found the trees we played in. You remember. It was like we flew up those trees. That’s how I remembered it.”

“Me too,” Mina agreed. A little horned bunny flared its fangs at them before darting into the shadows.

“We shouldn’t have been able to make those jumps.”

“But we did. Almost every day. Even in the rain.” It was like the shadows of their former selves were running through the park ahead of them. Mina remembered it so clearly.

“I double checked. I followed our path three times, from different angles. From the playground. From behind the portables. From the front of the school. I kept trying. Certain I was just at the wrong place, but then I remembered how we carved our names into the trees.”

“Oh yeah,” Mina bent, picked a tall blade of grass and wove it between her fingers.

“I found our names, and I climbed the tree for old time’s sake.”

Mina looked up at him, waited.

“We shouldn’t have been able to make those leaps.” His voice was flat and sure.

Mina frowned, pausing to look up at him.

“I’m taller, stronger, and faster now. And I couldn’t do it. Not only would I be unable to make the leap now, I couldn’t even get to the same branch. It’s only been three years since we did it. And then I remembered the rest of those days. Our little imaginary friends helping us fly through the trees. Stealing apples from the orchard on the edge of town with us. Cliff diving.”

She bit the inside of her mouth gently, remembering flying over the forest floor held by Zizi.

“I couldn’t even reach it.”

Mina let him finish the thought he’d been working on. The one that he might believe now.

“I only see two answers. Either, we were super imaginative or those memories are real. But the thing is…”

The sun seemed to push the clouds aside, sending a strong, bright ray down on them. He grinned at her, and the sunshine of his smile, his dimples dazzled her.

“The thing,” he continued, taking her hand, “is that even now I can’t reach where our names are carved.”

Mina licked her lips before asking, voice hoarser than she wished, “So you believe me then?”

“I believe.”

It was so stark. So clear. Mina felt there must be more, so she waited. Needing to hear all of it.

“Most of the time.” His fingers tangled with hers, for just a moment, before he let go. “I want to believe. Is that enough?”

“Yes,” Mina and Zizi said together. Zizi’s hand was to her chest, her grin was wide, and she zipped around them in the sunshine.