by Skylar Finn
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I said, letting the door slam shut behind me. “The two of you hacked my channel?”
Jazmin nearly severed Lourdes’s fingers as she shut the laptop and set it aside. “Lucia, you don’t understand—”
“Yeah, you’re right.” My voice trembled, dropping into a register so low that I almost sounded digitally modified. “I don’t understand why my best friend in the entire world who knows everything about me, including the passwords to my personal accounts, would team up with a nosy reporter and use my personal life as a story to sell the tabloids. We’ve been friends for over fifteen years, Jazmin. How could you do this to me?”
“I didn’t,” said Jazmin. “Well, I helped Lourdes edit and upload the new video to your channel, and we agreed to lock you out so that you couldn’t take it down, but I swear we had a good reason.”
“We didn’t have anything to do with the news report though,” Lourdes added. A sneer lifted her top lip. It made her look like a petite angry bulldog. “I’m actually kind of pissed off that someone sniped my story and turned it into such a dumpster fire. This is so much more than the morning’s gossip.”
“Don’t even try to act like you weren’t the one filming me and Nick at Porter’s,” I said. “You’ve been following me around since day one like an obsessive stalker. For your information, I am not dating Nick Porter or colluding with him to bring down the other businesses in town. How desperate are you to come up with something like that?”
Lourdes grimaced. “Fine, I did film you and Nick at the restaurant, and I’ll even admit to selling the footage to the local news channel. What can I say? I needed a quick buck. But they came up with that dumb story all on their own. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Get out,” I ordered.
Jazmin stood in front of Lourdes. “Lucia, wait.”
“You too,” I said. “Jazmin, do you know how worried I’ve been about you? I haven’t seen or heard from you since I dropped you off at the clinic earlier. Anything could’ve happened to you. For all I know, you were airlifted to the hospital to have your ankle reset and cast.”
“My ankle’s fine,” she said. “It’s just sprained. They gave me a low dose of painkillers that I’m probably not even going to take. I ran into Lourdes—”
“You keep saying that,” I said. “But I’ve found you together twice now, and both times felt premeditated.”
I picked up Lourdes’s camera bag from the kitchen counter. She leaned around Jazmin, her fingers clenching the armchair. She wanted to stand up and take her things from me, but she was also waiting to see what I would do. Truthfully, I wanted to take out her camera and hurl it across the room, but a lot of that desire stemmed from feeling like I had no control over my life right now. I settled for popping out the memory card. A question popped into my head.
“You already have this information on a hard drive somewhere, don’t you?” I asked Lourdes, holding up the memory card.
Her attempt to hide her smug smile fell short, but she reined her reply in as best she could since I was still holding her camera hostage. “It’s habit. I copy everything almost immediately. You never know when you might lose a memory card or have one stolen from you.”
I flicked the memory card into the garbage, just in case she was bluffing. If she was, she didn’t flinch. “Get out of my room.”
“Lucia—” Jazmin began.
Lourdes clasped Jazmin’s hand in a gesture that seemed far too familiar considering they’d only known each for a few days.
“It’s okay,” Lourdes said, getting up. When she reached me, she held out her hand for her camera bag. I placed it in her grip and folded my arms. She shouldered the bag with a practiced motion. “Just so you know, Lucia. Jazmin was acting in your best interest. We did this for you, not my thesis project.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I said. “You took advantage of Jazmin because she’s kind and trusting, and you knew that you could use that against her. I won’t fall for the same games. Stay out of my life, Lourdes, or I’ll make yours a living hell.”
Lourdes chewed on the inside of her cheek as if trying to contain a retort, but she merely glanced over her shoulder and shrugged at Jazmin. “Sorry. I tried my best.”
“Out,” I ordered again.
Lourdes obeyed, but she took her time about it to annoy me as much as possible. At the door, she paused to look back. “Really, Lucia. Getting mad at Jazmin is pointless. Hell, getting mad at me is pointless. Although, at least I understand that anger. Anyway, just think about what you say before it leaves your mouth, okay? I’ll be around if you need me.”
“What makes you think I would ever need you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with my best friend at long last. When I turned to look at Jazmin, she determinedly held my gaze. She wasn’t the type to back down and give me the win. Most of the time, she gave me some much-needed perspective on a situation.
“What is this?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing with that girl? She’s barely an adult. She’s using us for a story and a grade. Why would you let her do that, especially at my expense?”
“Trust me—”
“Trust you?” I scoffed. “Normally, I would, but you’ve been acting weird ever since we got to White Oak. Next time you want to disappear on me or hang out with some reporter who’s trying to exploit me, at least shoot me a text first.”
“Now you’re just being terrible on purpose,” Jazmin said. “You know for a fact that I would never do anything to hurt you. Did it ever occur to you how hard all of this is on the rest of us? You’re not the only one who had to fight for her life at King and Queens.”
“Yes, I understand that,” I snapped. “But Lourdes Calvo wasn’t one of those people. In case you forgot, it was you, me, Nick, and Riley. I don’t consider myself the worst off either. Riley lost her entire family at that damn resort.”
“And what have you done to help her?” Jazmin demanded. “What have you done at all other than mope around the resort and act like some kind of psychic martyr? So what if the world knows about your powers? So what if they think you teamed up with Nick to take over Crimson Basin? It doesn’t matter in the long run. What matters is what you’re doing right now to fix the situation, and I don’t see you doing a damn thing.”
“I’m sick!”
“You’re flailing,” Jazmin countered. “And I get that. You need some time to recover from what happened, but that time is over now. This has always been your problem. You hit one setback, and you refuse to move past it. You can’t throw this one under the rug. You can’t binge eat and cry on the bathroom floor until I come home to put you in the shower. I can’t pick you up this time, Lucia. You have to do it yourself.”
As she called up images of the past, I lost the motivation to stand. I sank into one of the high-top chairs at the kitchen counter and cradled my aching forehead in my cold hands. A sigh whooshed out of Jazmin’s lungs as she walked over to me and leaned her head against mine. She rubbed my shoulder reassuringly.
“I’m here for you,” she murmured. “But I can’t hold you up. Not this time.” She collected her coat and swung it over her shoulder. “I have to go find Lourdes. We didn’t finish what we were working on.”
“By all means, go finish,” I said, sarcasm automatically injecting itself into the phrase.
Jazmin fished the memory card out of the trash and pocketed it. She kissed my forehead. “You should get some rest. That way, you’re fresh for tomorrow. It’ll be a new day. Maybe some new opportunities will pop up.”
“What if they don’t?” I asked her on her way out.
She shrugged. “Then you have to make some on your own.”
For the second night in a row, I dreamt of the demon with terrible eyes. The eyes morphed from yellow to red and back again. I wasn’t sure which color was more terrifying. The red invoke
d the deepest pits of hell, like embers burning the bare skin of my feet no matter where I stepped. The yellow spoke of poisonous gas, filling my lungs with its noxious fumes until I choked on my own spit. I woke in a pool of sweat and tears, gasping for breath as if I was back at King and Queens, fleeing from the ghosts and the burning remains of the old wing. When I wiped my forehead on the nearest pillow, a yellow tint came away with the moisture, as if I was releasing the demon’s poison through my pores. On the upside, I didn’t vomit this time, though my stomach rolled around like a washing machine on the highest setting.
I went out on the balcony in my slippers and robe, letting the chill soothe my heated skin and pounding head. The cold cut right through the satin robe. If I stood out here too long, I’d catch an actual illness rather than the one brought about by unbalanced psychic energies, but it felt too good to go outside. It had snowed last night. The air smelled fresh and clean. I wished the weather could cleanse my energy the same way. I wished it could lay atop my soul like a blanket and smother the aches and pains that I’d carried with me from King and Queens. Alas, as Jazmin pointed out, I was the only person who could fix myself.
Though it was early, skiers and snowboarders had already taken to the new snow on the mountain, cutting unruly patterns that crisscrossed each other like poor embroidery work. From this height, each vacationer was a tiny colorful dot in the snow. It was as if I were a god looking down at my subjects from above. I could pick up each person and place them where I wanted them to go. If I had that power, I would rearrange almost everyone. I’d put Riley somewhere safe, where she would have access to her favorite ski runs without running into hazardous inexperienced riders. I’d put Jazmin in the spa or maybe the indoor tennis courts. She would enjoy either place, and I’d be able to keep her far away from Lourdes Calvo. My mother, I would put anywhere but White Oak. She belonged in a psychiatrist’s office, but even if the real hand of God dropped her at the door to the building, she would never admit that she needed help.
When my teeth began to chatter, I went inside and made myself a cup of coffee. I almost felt human again. The cold had cleared my head and made it easier to manage my energy. It was easier if I pictured my psychic ability as a balance scale. My mental health sat on one side while my wild energy sat on the other. The more I tended to my mental health, the more the scales evened out, but if I neglected my emotions and let frustration get the best of me, my energy would grow heavier and begin to tip the scale in that direction. The imagery soothed me. As I sipped my coffee and warmed up on the couch, I closed my eyes and imagined evening out the two sides of the scales. Slowly but surely, my stomach calmed down and my headache began to fade. I felt human again.
Since the cold’s effect was so automatically calming, I didn’t want to give it up so easily. I donned several layers—from warming, sweat-wicking leggings to a heavy sweater to my fluffiest snow jacket and hard-wearing boots—and joined the excited guests in the White Oak lobby who were all ready for a day on the mountain. Near the Slopes Café, I rented another pair of hiking poles and traction pads to strap onto my boots. Then, with an air of great determination, I headed up the path to the bird watching platform, this time prepared with a backpack full of water, snacks, and several hand warmers. I huffed and puffed as I climbed the mountain, this time taking the “intermediate” route. I was by no means an intermediate hiker, but in that moment I was after a better challenge. The path acted as a life-sized puzzle. I learned where to put my feet to get the best traction and how to engage each muscle group to pull me up the steepest parts of the mountain. If I got stuck, I stood back and waited for other hikers to pass through. As they did so, I studied their methods and mimicked them. One hiker gave me a boost up a particularly steep hill then showed me how to use a pick axe. He even gifted me with a small axe to keep for myself, claiming he had too many already. I used it to scale the last obstacle before the bird-watching platform. When I cleared the hill and stepped onto the platform to catch my breath, it was the first time I’d felt truly accomplished in several years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so proud of myself. It must have been when Madame Lucia’s Parlour started gaining attention, but that pride was always tainted by the fact that I deceived and exploited my viewers on a regular basis.
The bird platform was quiet. I sat down on the edge of it like I’d done with Gina the first day I met her and dangled my legs over the gushing waterfall. A rainbow arced through the spray, sending dazzling multi-colored diamonds into the air. I ate a protein bar and washed it down with a few swigs of water as I enjoyed the noise of the rushing water and the wind rustling through the trees. For the second time, I wished I could stay there forever, without any other people, living or dead, to wreck the silence. I lost track of how long I sat there, but surely an hour or two must have passed because the cold began to creep into my limbs and stiffen them. I shook my legs and arms out, stood up, and started the trip back.
Down the mountain a ways, parents crowded a larger viewing platform that overlooked a few of the busier riding trails. It was a place for those who preferred to stay off the mountain but still wanted to feel involved in the activities. There was even an outdoor bar and several café tables for everyone to enjoy. I ordered a hot toddy to warm myself up and picked a seat near the edge of the balcony with a good view of the mountain. As I sipped my drink, I scanned the snow for a glimpse of Riley. She hadn’t been in the room that morning, which usually meant she was already out on the slopes. I imagined skiing was to Riley what hiking had become for me. It helped to clear her head. It had been that way since before I’d met her. I probably should’ve taken a leaf out of her book sooner.
After a few minutes, I caught sight of Riley’s familiar figure and neon yellow jacket and grinned as I watched her ski in and out of the others with a cocky confidence. She looked more at home on the slopes than both the tourists and the locals. As she approached the part of the mountain that passed beneath the balcony, she glanced up and made eye contact with me as if she instinctively knew my exact position without having to search for me. It was if an invisible string connected the two of us, but as soon as her eyes locked on mine, my head began to swim. My vision went fuzzy, blurring the colorful skiers together into one rainbow blob against the white mountain. When I blacked out, yellow eyes and a mouthful of teeth laughed at me in the darkness.
I came to on the floor of the balcony, my head resting on a stranger’s knee. A crowd of guests stood around me, but one woman in a teal jacket and white earmuffs kept them a safe distance away. She knelt beside me and fanned me with a cloth napkin.
“Oh, you’re awake!” she said when she noticed I’d opened my eyes. “Thank goodness.”
I pushed myself off the stranger’s knee. He was a nice-looking man whose jacket matched the woman’s. They wore matching rings as well. I rubbed my aching head.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You fainted and fell off your chair,” the woman said. Someone passed her a glass of water, and she offered it to me. “Here, drink this. Are you okay?”
I took a sip. “I think so. How long was I out?”
“Only a couple of minutes,” said the man. “You seemed alarmed about something right before. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Alarmed? I—oh my God. Riley!”
I sprang up from the floor, swaying as I tried to figure out how to balance again. The married couple jumped into action to keep me upright, each of them taking one of my arms and helping me walk to the balcony’s edge. Immediately, I noticed Riley’s yellow jacket. She was sprawled in the snow, her right arm twisted at a gross angle. She tucked in the broken arm and rolled to the side of the path with a garbled yell of pain.
“Riley!” I yelled, panic rising in my throat. I pushed at the couple trying to help me. “She’s hurt. I have to get down there.”
“You shouldn’t be up and about,” the woman said.
“She’s my kid,” I said without hesitation. “What I shoul
d or shouldn’t do doesn’t matter.”
She took in my expression and nodded. “Okay then. At least let us help you get to her.”
The couple accompanied me down the slippery steps and the rest of the way to the slopes, flanking my either side like my own personal security guards.
“I’m Daphne, by the way,” the woman said. “And this is my husband, Dash. We’re both nurse practitioners. We can help you and your daughter.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I just want to get to her first.”
I spotted Riley in the snow. Other skiers crowded around her, blocking most of her from view. I couldn’t tell how badly she was hurt through the throng.
“Get out of the way!” Dash ordered, his voice booming through the crowd. “Move, people! Her mom’s coming through.”
The crowd parted for us, murmuring and whispering in worried undertones. When I saw Riley, I understood why. Her broken arm was much worse than it had looked from the balcony thirty feet above and she was bleeding from a large gash in her forehead. I tore myself away from Dash and Daphne and threw myself into the snow next to Riley.
“Riley!” I refrained from throwing my arms around her like I wanted to do, unsure if she had any injuries that I couldn’t see. “What happened? You were fine one second, and then the next—”
“I passed out,” she said, teeth clenched as she cradled her broken arm close to her chest. She was in a lot of pain, but she was also a trooper who didn’t like to show weakness. She gestured to the injury. “So I don’t remember how this happened.”
“Some idiot ran over you,” said a teenaged boy who carried his snowboard under his arm. “I was right behind him. I saw you crash, and I tried to warn him, but he just kept going. He nailed your head and your arm in one go.”
“Call the paramedics,” I urged Daphne as Dash took Riley’s arm and gingerly felt the bones.
“No need,” Daphne said, nodding toward the resort where a four-man team of White Oak’s medical staff carried a portable stretcher toward us. “They’re already here.”
