Sefira didn’t answer.
Celeste sighed. “I just don’t want you to think it’s anything personal. I have nothing against Delilah. Understand?”
“I do.” Sefira leaned forward in her chair placing her elbows on the table. “You know, I never did get her full diagnosis. What exactly did the doctors say she had?”
Plates in hand, Celeste walked over to the table and set them down. “Paranoid schizophrenia, I believe. Want some OJ?”
“I’ll get it.” Sefira stood.
“No, you sit down,” insisted Celeste. “I’ve got it.” Within seconds, she was back with two tall glasses of orange juice.
“Thanks,” said Sefira.
Celeste pulled up a chair at the head of the table and said a quick blessing for them both before diving in.
“Hm.” Sefira poured syrup over her pancakes. “You know, when Delilah got her initial diagnosis, we were living in a tiny town in Iowa. It’s not like she had too many choices in doctors. What if they were wrong?”
“I don’t think so, honey. Apparently, a small team from Raleigh was eventually assigned to her, and that’s one of the scientific research capitals of the country. Chances are they know what they’re talking about. Could you pass the syrup?”
“I guess.” Sefira handed her the bottle, which she promptly took and drizzled over her food. The pancakes didn’t look as appetizing as they had a few minutes prior, but Sefira cut them into perfect little squares anyway and took a bite.
“What I wanted to ask you was whether you’re on board.” Celeste’s eyes were focused on her pancakes.
“With what?” asked Sefira, chewing.
“With talking to someone.” She chewed her food thoughtfully. “We’ve all undergone a lot of change recently, and I just think it would be a good idea for all of us to sit down and vent a little.”
Sefira shifted a little. “Sure, I’m on board.”
“That’s great to hear.” Celeste reached across the table and put a hand on Sefira’s shoulder. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” Sefira answered.
“Hate to intrude on your little breakfast chat, but I’m starving.” Randall emerged from the hallway barefoot and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. “Something smells good.”
“C’mon, pull up a chair. I’ll fix you a plate,” said Celeste, taking one more bite of her pancake before rising.
“Wow, first-class treatment this morning. Thanks Ma,” said Randall. He yawned and sat opposite Sefira, back to the kitchen.
An alarm blared from Celeste’s room. “Oh, I forgot to turn that off.” Celeste left, walking past the length of the table toward her room.
“Well, well, little sis. I see you’ve got mom down here working up a sweat. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Sefira stabbed at her pancakes. Randall had a personality that could curdle milk.
“You sure about that? You came in pretty late the other day and I couldn’t help but overhear a little something about you seeing things.” Rubbing an arm, he sat back, smirking.
Sefira fiddled with her fork. “What, were you eavesdropping?”
“No, just concerned. You know, now that dad’s gone, I’m the man around here. I’ve got to make sure everybody is safe,” he said, with a steely look.
“Safe?” Sefira placed her fork on her plate, propping her chin with an elbow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She reminded herself to keep her voice low.
Randall leaned in and whispered, “You know exactly what it means. Something about you is off.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Sefira was about to stand up and dismiss herself when Randall stretched across the table and grabbed her wrist. “Take your hands off me,” Sefira demanded, jaw tightened.
“I’m watching you, and I swear,” he lowered his voice even further, speaking through clenched teeth, “if you do anything to hurt my family….”
Sefira wrested her arm away and sat back down. “They’re my family too,” she fired back. “If you weren’t so busy trying to find 666 on my scalp, maybe you would realize that.” She glanced at the hallway to make sure Celeste wasn’t returning. “What did I ever do to you? Why are you always on my case?”
He looked exasperated, as if she should already know the answer. “You know what dad told me before he left?“ He glanced at the hallway too, then back to her. “He said that he saw something.”
“What do you mean he saw—“
“He didn’t tell me what he saw. But whatever it was, it scared him good. Mom didn’t believe him, but I do. You’re hiding something.”
Sefira swallowed hard. In truth, she had no words but she couldn’t back down or Randall would pounce.
“Do you know how stupid that sounds?” she replied, leaning in.
“They’re afraid of you. Afraid of what you might do.”
She cocked her head sideways. “What am I going to do, Randall?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced at the empty hallway, leaning forward. “Your mom was insane. Crazy with a capitol C. You’re capable of just about anything.”
“I can’t take this.” She stood up, pushed her chair in and grabbed her plate off the table. “I’m out.” She went to the kitchen, dumped the remainder of her pancakes in the trash and rinsed her plate. Afterward, she exited the kitchen, brushed by Randall and made for the stairs. Wait. She stopped. He needs to know he can’t get away with this. She did an about-face. Randall still had that dumb smirk on his face as he grabbed his mother’s glass of orange juice and took a sip, studying her.
“By the way,” said Sefira, “don’t ever talk about my mother like that again, and don’t put your hands on me.”
He shot her a dry look, swishing the orange juice around in the cup. The way it sloshed around incensed her. In fact, the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he looked at her—it all made her angry. He was doing it again—judging her with that stupid expression on his face. “Or? What are you going to do?”
That was it. The final straw. A prickly heat travelled up her back to her brain and the next thing she knew Randall yelped, jumping up from the table.
“What’s going on in here?” asked Celeste, emerging from the hallway. Randall’s shirt and face were soaked. “What did you do? Wait—are you bleeding?”
“What do you mean?” He looked down at his shirt, presumably to find the source of her inquiry. Celeste stepped forward and took his hand, studying it, then at him, a puzzled look on her face.
“How did you manage to break the glass?” she asked Randall, a hand on her hip.
“I don’t—” He locked eyes with Sefira. “Sorry, I guess I was holding it a little too tight.” His eyes never left her.
Sefira was just as surprised as he was. “You’d better get a band aid for that,” she said, retreating to her room.
Footprints In The Snow
“What happened to you yesterday, were you sick?” Sky asked as they gathered their books and left chemistry. Today she sported two high ponytails, a pink cut-off shirt and jeans. After unwrapping a bubblegum lollypop, she stuck it in her mouth.
Sefira repositioned her backpack on her shoulder. “I guess I caught a little something when we were out. I just felt drained.”
“May have had something to do with that party over the weekend.” She elbowed Sefira. “Wasn’t it wild?”
Sefira tried to match her enthusiasm. “Yeah, I had a great time.”
“What was up with you going outside and everything? You had us so worried. I mean, we were like two seconds from calling the cops.”
“I don’t know.” Sefira shrugged. “I started feeling a little claustrophobic, so I stepped out for some air.”
“I know you had a headache, but are you sure it had nothing to do with that fine dude you were dancing with?”
“Definitely not,” Sefira replied.
“Seriously?” She pulled the sucker out for a minute. “He was so cute.”
“Yeah, until
he started talking. What about that guy you were with? He seemed to like you.”
“He does.” Sky smiled.
“Did you give him your number?”
“Nah, he asked me my age and told me to call him when I turned 18.”
Sefira nodded. “Oh yeah, right. I forgot they were older. They seemed so much like the guys in high school.”
The sun beamed down on the back of their necks and Palm trees swayed in a blue, cloudless sky as they left the air-conditioned Chemistry building and headed down the shaded campus corridors toward the main quad. Aromas sweet and savory wafted through the air. Sefira sniffed buttered popcorn, brownies, cinnamon-sugar churros, peppery jalapeños and cheesy nachos, the smell of which set her tummy grumbling. According to the brightly painted butcher paper signs taped to the outer walls, ASB and the Black Student Union were holding fundraisers. ASB for homecoming and the BSU for an end-of-the-year trip. Sefira pondered how much cash she had brought to school when Sky tugged at the sleeve of her shirt.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
“What?” Sefira suddenly felt apprehensive.
“What is up with that?” She gestured in the direction of some random guys. They all looked like some variant of the same from the back. Long shirts. Skinny jeans. Skater shoes.
“With what?” asked Sefira.
“The tight pants these dudes are wearing. I don’t get it. If a dude is wearing tighter pants than me, there’s a problem.”
Sefira chuckled. “I know, I don’t get it either.”
“Too bad they don’t all dress like your man.”
“What?” Sefira was caught off guard. “My man? Since when did I have a man?”
“Hm. I’m not tryin’ to hear none of that.” She glanced over to her left. “He’s over there right now, giving you the come-hither stare.”
Sefira felt that same flushed feeling again. She looked sideways to see Kaetano smiling dead at her. He nodded a “hello” as he stood amongst his friends, who were apparently engaged in an animated debate of some sort. Smiling, she mouthed a “hi” back while continuing to walk with Sky.
“Oooh—I was right. What’s going on there, missy?” Sky leaned on her shoulder.
“Nothing, nothing.” It wasn’t long before they found their usual table filled with the usual people. They sat on the wooden benches and pulled out their lunches. Xavier was the main source of entertainment, as usual.
“Yeah, so I’m calling this girl, ‘cuz I swear, she was tight from the back. I mean curves for days.” He outlined a curvy figure in the air with his hands. “I mean everybody was hawkin’ her. So then she turns around, and I swear—body like a goddess, face from h—.”
“Xavier,” Danielle cut him off, shaking her head.
Alaina started cracking up. “Now see, that’s what you get for going off of appearances anyway. I bet she’s a beautiful person inside.”
“Inside? Hey, I’m like UPS, if the package ain’t wrapped right, I can’t take it. Ain’t that right, Sefira?” He nodded.
Sefira shook her head as she sat, eating her sandwich.
“He’s crazy,” said Sky.
“I know,” Sefira replied in between bites.
Hey, come here, someone whispered.
Sefira looked at Sky. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh,” Sefira said, somewhat baffled. “I thought I heard you say something.”
Over here. There it was again. Sefira’s eyes darted around the table. Xavier was still talking and the rest of the bunch were still engaged in idle chatter. No one else seemed to hear anything. Swallowing, she looked up, surveying the campus. By the fountain. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as her eyes shot to the fountain. There was someone there.
She rose in such haste, that the chatter at the table came to a halt. “Hey Sky, um, I just remembered something I have to do. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay?” Sky’s brows furrowed as she watched Sefira gather her things and walk off, backpack slung over her shoulder.
The person was still there, leaning against a brick wall adjacent to the water fountain. Who is that? She squinted in an effort to make out the silhouette. Is it me? Or are they moving pretty darned fast? As soon as Sefira thought she had a handle on the figure, it relocated to a completely different location—her eyes were unable to keep up. Curiosity piqued, she picked up her pace through the noisy lunch crowd, down a corridor and past the quad. As she rounded the corner of the science building, something grabbed her. Cold fingers pressed tightly against her lips, muffling her cries. In a panic, she kicked and thrashed about, but the more she struggled, the more the sensation in her arms and legs diminished until she could no longer feel them or anything else for that matter. Within seconds, her entire reality was sucked away as if she had fallen into a bottomless pit. Black and silent. A vast void where she smelled nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing and could say nothing. Her very existence became questionable and the only reason she thought she might still be alive was due to the fact that her mind was still active. What’s happened? Where am I? Dear God, I’ve been drugged. Please help me! Her mind whirled having no idea what to think, when suddenly, she felt cold. The sensation saved her. It crept up her legs and torso and eventually spread to her arms and face. She opened her eyes, relieved that they were once again hers to manipulate. At first, they stung. Everything was so blindingly bright, she couldn’t make anything out. Then slowly, like the feeling in her limbs, she recaptured her vision and what she saw almost emptied her bowels. Her campus, the students, the noise—everything was gone. Instead she stood alone, underdressed, ankle deep, in snow.
Ice crunched as she dropped her backpack in what looked like an Arctic no-mans-land, barren but for the snow, a few scattered trees and broken branches. A couple weeks ago she would’ve questioned her sanity. Not anymore. Something was in store for her, she could feel it in her bones. The question was what?
Clutching her arms, she took a hesitant step forward, her right sneaker sinking slightly in the plush snow. “Who’s there?” The words froze on her lips, barely rising above a whisper. “I said who’s there?” she yelled.
A sharp keening noise cut the silence behind her. She whirled around and was met with a shove so hard that she felt the blow on her clavicle long after she skid backward in the snow. Sweating, she scrambled to her feet, eyes flitting, trying to anticipate the next blow. She wouldn’t have to wonder long. The same whistling sound headed in her direction and the next thing she knew she was tossed into a snowy embankment. Any physical pain she suffered was overshadowed by anger, and it drove her to get up immediately.
Ice crystals fell from her legs and elbows as she pulled herself up. While rising, she noticed something she’d overlooked before—footsteps in the snow.
Fists balled, she screamed, “You’re a coward! This is what you do, huh? Hide? You don’t even have the guts to fight me face to face!” It seemed like an eternity passed without a response. She’d almost convinced herself that the oddity was over when she eyed a stampede of footprints headed in her direction accompanied by the familiar whirling cacophony. This time Sefira didn’t wait for an invitation to the party. Using her mental capabilities, she snatched a heavy piece of driftwood from off the ground, slicing in the whirlwind’s direction. A gasp and a thud were heard as her invisible assailant hit the ground, materializing. You’re kidding me. “Joy?” Sefira was perplexed. “What the heck is going on? Why are you doing this?”
Joy was on the ground, chest heaving, arms and legs sprawled. As far as Sefira was concerned, she still looked dressed for Halloween. The large green eyes glowering at her looked like they’d been Crayola’d with a thick black marker, and her mouth bore the brightest red lipstick known to modern man. Only her hair rivaled in color—raven black with pops of punk rock red throughout. Snow flaked off her long, black military-style jacket as the girl scrambled to her feet. When her coat caught the wind, it revealed
a faded and ripped grey t-shirt and black leggings full of gaping holes inlayed with fishnet. Sefira thought it was an odd choice of garb for an ass-kicking soiree, but maybe she was just that confident.
After settling into the fact that the girl she helped in the alley was now attacking her, a flush of anger swept over Sefira. Her mouth opened, ready to give her a piece of her mind, when Joy disappeared. The next thing she knew she felt a burning sensation on her right shoulder. Perplexed, she glanced at her shirt and saw tiny red swirls swell like inkblots on her blouse. “Are you crazy?” she yelled. “What’s your problem?”
Movement in her peripheral caught Sefira’s attention. Joy was a few yards away, fists balled with a scowl on her face. Sefira waved an arm body-slamming Joy into the snow, resulting in a small yelp.
The girl disappeared and was back on her feet swiping snow from her face. “You’re a liar!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think you know what I’m talking about.” Retrieving what appeared to be a cell phone from her pocket, she pushed a few buttons and began to read, her tone mocking. “10:47 October 31st, you got a message from Zada. ‘What’s up, Fira, where are you? Did you find that girl?’ 10:59 ‘Fira, we’re in front of Rakor. Wrap it up with the girl. We’ve got to go.’ I could read more, but I think you get the gist.” She tossed the phone to Sefira.
“You brought me to planet Krypton to fight because I lied about my name?” asked Sefira, stuffing the phone in her pocket.
Before she could blink, Joy was standing directly in front of her, face screwed with a finger pointed at her chest. “No, I brought you here because you lied about everything. Fake name, fake address, and fake story. I started thinking—there was no way you could’ve made it to me that fast unless you could orb—and clearly you can’t do that—or, you were following me. Your cell confirmed that.” A hand on her hip, she said, “You’ve got five seconds to tell me who you are and what you want, or—”
Alright Zada, I’m going to try this your way. “Or what?” Sefira stepped forward with a finger of her own. “This stunt here, today, just exceeded my threshold for BS. If there’s something you want to know, ask—and you’d better ask nicely.” She looked Joy dead in the eyes. “Don’t let this sweet face fool you. I’m down to break bread in heaven or hell today. So, we can talk like civilized individuals, or we can go Buffy and Faith. Your choice.”
For Blood & Glory Page 24
