The dresser drawers are void of anything helpful and I move to the closet. I poke around the shelves before an idea occurs to me: In my reality, there was a loose floorboard in the closet. That was where I found my dad’s ring. I know the ring was never hidden there in this time, but maybe alternate-me found the loose board anyway. It would make the perfect place for hiding a diary.
My fingers pry at the board for a few second before it budges. I reach in the hole and my fingers brush against the soft leather binding of a book. I pull it out. It’s brown and supple to the touch, with leather thongs tied and holding it closed. With trembling fingers, I undo the knot and open the book.
It’s my handwriting. Of course it is—she would have the same handwriting as me—but for some reason it still strikes me as strange. The first entry is dated August, four years ago—right before I started seventh grade.
Tomorrow’s my first day at Clearwater Middle School. I’m nervous. What if something happens? No one here knows about me, about what I did at Brittany’s party. But I’m still afraid that somehow people will be able to tell. I had a dream last night—a nightmare—that I walked into my first class and everyone stopped and stared at me. Then they started pointing and whispering. The whispers got louder and louder and then someone started laughing. All of a sudden, Brittany was standing in the middle of the room, laughing and pointing at me and yelling, “There’s the freak!”
I know there’s no way that’s going to happen. She doesn’t know where I live now, and besides, there’s no way her parents would drive her all the way down here on the first day of school, anyway. Still, every time I think about going to school tomorrow, my stomach twists and I feel like I’m gonna throw up.
I brush my fingers across the words. She sounds a lot like me the summer before I started seventh grade. Only I wasn’t starting a new school. I hoped that Brittany and her friends would have forgotten about me over the summer, moved on to some other target. I wasn’t that lucky, but she was.
I flip ahead a few pages.
School’s going great. I guess everyone has basically known each other since birth, so they all want to be my friend. I’m new and exciting, not a freak. I like it.
A pang courses through me. My seventh grade experiences weren’t nearly so pleasant and I can’t help the surge of jealousy. I wish things had happened for me.
When we realized things were different, Crystal told me I should take the win, that I should be grateful for the changes. Is she right? We didn’t actively affect the past, yet we came back to a different reality. Did we really reset things to the way they were meant to be? Is it possible I was never supposed to experience all the torment I did at my old school?
I leaf through a few more pages until a familiar name catches my eye. Owen.
That boy who sits behind me in math, who keeps kicking my foot? I finally got the nerve to tell him to stop today. I’m glad I did.
His name is Owen Marsh, and he apologized for kicking me. He said he didn’t realize he was doing it. We talked a little and even worked on our homework together.
He’s really cute. Like, really. Is it bad of me to think like that? Technically, Felix is my boyfriend—
I reread that part a couple times, thinking I’ve misread it. But, no, it doesn’t say Fox, which I’d understand—it says Felix. The entry is dated November of my seventh grade year. A giggle bubbles inside me. He wasn’t lying the other day in class. Felix Wolfe really was my first kiss.
Technically, Felix is my boyfriend, but Dana says it’s okay to think someone else is cute, too. And Owen is. He’s cute and nice, and I’m glad he was kicking my foot.
Dana? Were Dana Crawford and I friends in middle school? I scan several pages, searching for names. Who was alternate-me friends with when she first came to town?
I’m pretty sure Crystal Jamison hates me. It’s not even fair. It’s not my fault we have the same name. We don’t even spell it the same…
She says she’s not talking about me, but I know she is. Crystal and Lexie stop whispering whenever I come by, and they start giggling. It’s exactly what Brittany did at the end of last year…
Today in history, I heard Crystal and Lexie whisper my name and I got all hot inside—like I was gonna explode. Just when I couldn’t handle it anymore, the maps at the front of the room fell off their hooks and crashed on the floor and everyone jumped. Mr. McAllister grumbled about the custodian not putting them up right, but I don’t think that’s why they fell…
In science, Crystal was flicking little paper balls at me. I told her to stop, but she pretended like she didn’t know what I was talking about. She just kept doing it. I swear, she hit me a hundred times. I got so. mad. The heat started in my stomach again and I tried to breathe through it like Jodi told me, but it didn’t work and the projector caught fire. Mr. Holt had to get the fire extinguisher…
My body tenses. It had happened here, too—the uncontrolled bursts of magic. Jodi tried to help me control it, but did she tell me what I am? No, she can’t have—information like that certainly would make it into the diary.
I flip back and forth through the pages, looking for something happier to focus on.
My first kiss occurred at a winter dance in seventh grade. I detailed the event with painstaking care as soon as I got home. Felix insisted the decoration above our heads was mistletoe. I smile. It’s the kind of first kiss I’d imagined back in middle school, and I’m glad that in one reality, I got it.
Felix and I split up after the new year, but there isn’t much detail surrounding it. It only mentions that Dana and I went to Millie’s coffee shop after school that day and got coffee drinks and cookies. I can’t tell if this was in celebration or commiseration.
My heart twists. I don’t know Dana well, but apparently alternate-me did. She’s mentioned more than just about anyone. I can’t help wondering what happened between us, even though I have a sinking suspicion I already know. Crystal, Lexie, Bridget—they’re all mentioned in passing, and it’s clear from my references that we’re not friends. But obviously, that changes. I assume Dana was a casualty of that transition.
As the seventh grade entries continue, there are more frequent mentions of Owen. Owen walked me to class today, even though his next class is on the other side of the school… Owen and I met up at the coffee shop to study for Friday’s test… Owen held my hand on the way to class today—just grabbed it like it was no big thing. My cheeks were on fire the whole way to English, and I couldn’t look at him, but he didn’t let go until we were outside Miss Stoker’s class… Owen asked if he could give me a nickname, and I said yes, of course. Before when I thought about having a nickname, it was because Crystal Jamison wanted me to have one, so we wouldn’t have the same name and so she would still be special. But this nickname is all about me, to make me special. He says from now on, he’s gonna call me Krissa.
My jaw drops. Darkness encroaches on my peripheral vision for a few seconds until I manage to take in a breath. Owen called me Krissa in this reality, too. Somehow the fact makes me happy and sad all at once. If that nickname was always meant to be mine, why does everyone call me by my full name? What was West talking about—what did I do to Owen? A weight settles in my stomach as I read on.
Owen. Just. Asked. Me. Out!!! I’m so excited I can’t even think. We’re going to the end-of-the-year dance together…
I don’t know what to do. I just got back from dress shopping with Mom. She was chatting with Lexie Taylor’s mom—she owns the store—when Lexie and Crystal cornered me. I thought they’d be mean to me—even though they’ve kinda cooled down on that at school. But they weren’t mean. Well, not exactly. They called me a witch. At first, I thought they were trying to insult me, but they said they weren’t, that they were witches, too. That it’s magic—all those things that happen when I’m upset. Before I could ask them more, Mom came over and they were gone by the time I bought a dress…
I think I might know where this story is heading,
but I have to read through to be sure. I turn a few more pages.
It’s the day of the dance and my stomach is in knots. I was so excited when Owen asked me, but now… Now I’m just scared. I have to make a choice. Crystal promised she could teach me how to use my magic so it doesn’t explode out of me—she’s got a book of spells and everything. But she says she has to be able to trust me before she can share her secrets with me. If I want to be one of them—part of her circle—then I have to prove my loyalty.
The problem is I don’t trust her. I don’t like her—she’s been mean to me almost since we met. But she’s not lying about the magic—she showed me she could light a candle with her mind. It was incredible. Can I really do that? I tried to do it myself—down by the river so Mom and Jodi wouldn’t see—and I did it, I lit the candle—but I was sitting on a log and it caught on fire, too. I had to splash water from the river onto it to put out the flames. I can’t control it, and that scares me. She says she can help me control it, but I don’t know if I can do what she wants me to do.
This doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t alternate-me just talk to Jodi about it? Clearly Jodi still practices. Is it possible she didn’t know at that time? That has to be—otherwise why would she run to Crystal for help?
The next few pages are filled with more indecisive ramblings, but when I come to the entry for June tenth, my stomach clenches.
Owen Marsh will hate me forever, but I had to do it.
There’s nothing more to the entry. I flip forward in vain—there are no details about what happened. Entries become infrequent, and the only people mentioned are members of the circle. By my fourteenth birthday in November of eighth grade, alternate-me was dating Fox and bragging about her magical abilities. Besides the entry on June tenth, there’s nothing more about Owen, not even in passing. The one time Dana is mentioned, it’s to comment on her outfit (“slutty”). Instead of the voice sounding familiar, by degrees, it feels like I’m reading entries penned by Crystal or Lexie.
That’s it, then. West has every right to not trust me. My alternate-self chose magic over anything else. That’s why Owen doesn’t look at me. All these years later, whatever I did still hurts him.
But I’m not that person. And somehow, I’ll have to prove it. This is my life now, and it’s time I make it my own. I’ve already taken the first step by joining the psychics. Now I need to prove to West I’m not the person he thinks I am. And maybe there’s some way I can apologize to Owen for whatever the old me did to him. Even if it takes years, I need to try. Reading the diary has solidified one fact in me more than anything else: Owen and I are connected—in every reality. Things got off track here, but they don’t have to stay that way.
Guilt swells, but I push it down. Fox is sweet, but I didn’t choose him. It’s not fair for me to stay with him when my heart wants someone else.
I have to break up with Fox.
Chapter Fourteen
Fox’s monster truck arrives in my driveway right on time the next morning and my stomach lurches.
I’m going to break up with him today.
It’s the best thing to do—the only option, really. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. It’s not fair to him to be with me, not anymore. And once we’re not together anymore, he can find someone who really wants to be with him—the person he’s meant for. Because that person isn’t me.
Although I’ve gone through every argument and assured myself I’m doing the right thing, I can’t shake the guilt welling up inside. Poor Fox will be so blindsided. But it’s the best thing, really. He doesn’t deserve to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with him. No one does.
I say goodbye to Mom and Jodi before heading out the door. They both wave, smiles playing about the corners of their mouths like they know something. Like they know I’m going to break up with Fox today. No, they can’t. It’s just my conscience.
Fox leans across the center console to hug me once I’m in the cab, placing a kiss on my cheek. I return his embrace as best I can, but when we separate, Fox’s eyebrows pull together. “You feeling okay?”
I bite my lower lip, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”
A smile curls the edge of his mouth as he puts the truck in gear. “Good.”
I stare out the window beside me, eyes unfocused as the neighborhood slips by. I should do it now, like ripping off a band-aid. No—there’s no reason to ruin his day so early. What if he has a test today? I don’t want to be responsible for breaking his heart and making him fail a test. But to delay now is only to prolong the inevitable. Either way, he’s going to be hurt, so I might as well get it over with right now.
So deep in this internal monologue am I that it takes several minutes before I realize I don’t recognize our surroundings. The drive to school is barely ten minutes long—we’ve been on the road at least that and nothing around us looks the least bit familiar. I turn to Fox. “What’s going on?”
He glances out the corner of his eye, grinning. “I’m kidnapping you.”
My heartbeat accelerates. “No, for real?”
He laughs, his head tipping backward. “Don’t worry—it’s sanctioned. I was starting to think they told you, even though they promised they wouldn’t.”
“Who?”
“Your mom and Jodi, of course. It took a little bit of convincing, but they finally agreed.”
I stare at his profile, waiting for him to go on. Agitation rises when he doesn’t. “Agreed to what? Where are we going?”
He shakes his head. “It’s a surprise. You just sit there and relax.” He reaches into the back seat and grabs a paper bag. “Here.”
I take the bag and peer inside dubiously. A sweet scent tickles my nose and I spy at least a dozen oatmeal cookies loaded with raisins, chocolate chunks, and walnuts. Although I’ve already eaten breakfast, my stomach rumbles and I have to stop myself from taking one. “You baked?”
He snorts. “You remember what happened last time we tried to bake something? No, I ordered these special from Treat Dreams.”
A prickling sensation gathers in the corners of my eyes. “They’re my favorite.”
He gasps. “Really?”
My cheeks redden and I hit him in the arm. Of course he knows that about her—about me. He’s been with my alternate self for so long, it would be a bigger surprise if he didn’t know her favorite cookies.
I fall quiet. How am I supposed to break up with him now? I have no idea where we’re going, and he’s brought me a special present. My resolve wavers. If not now, then at the end of the day, for sure. I can’t break up with him if I don’t know where we are. What if he gets upset and drops me at the side of the road? No, I can’t risk it.
Minutes tick by as Fox drives. He flips on his radio to a station I like and even hums along with the songs. He doesn’t seem at all bothered that I’m not making conversation, so I don’t let it bother me, either.
At the half hour mark, I get antsy. “Okay, for real, where are we going?”
Fox smiles. “Still a surprise.”
I press my lips together. “Are you sure my mom actually okayed this? She’s not gonna get a call from the school saying I’m skipping and be pissed when I get home, is she?”
He shakes his head. “Feel free to text her if you don’t believe me.”
I pinch my lower lip between my thumb and forefinger. After a moment’s debate, I pull my cell from my back pocket and type out a text. Fox laughs quietly as I hit send. A minute elapses before my phone vibrates in my hand.
Jodi and I had a bet to see how long it would take before you contacted one of us. Looks like I win. Have a good time today.
When I look up, Fox is smiling. “Satisfied? Now, relax and eat a cookie. We’re still a ways out.”
Figuring I don’t have many other options, I do as Fox suggests. We’re on the freeway now and I watch as the scenery on the side of the road changes from field to small town. I’m reminded forcibly of when Jodi drove me from my home in the D
etroit area out to Clearwater, after my mom’s death. Are we heading in the same direction? I keep alert for signs that might indicate where we’re going. After a few minutes of vigilance, I’m rewarded by a sign indicating how many miles away from Detroit we are. Is that where we’re going? Back to my old house? But why would Fox be taking me there? In this reality, I haven’t lived there in four years, and there would be no reason for Fox to have ever been there. Maybe he’s taking me to something in Detroit—the Detroit Institute of Arts or… or maybe Wayne State University. Are we going on a college tour? That would explain why my mom would be okay with me missing a day of school. But if that’s where we’re heading, why wouldn’t she be the one taking us? Besides, college is still nearly two years away.
Different ideas chase themselves through my mind as we continue. I try to wheedle the information out of him a couple of times, but he quickly changes the thread of the conversation any time I get too close to asking about our destination. After a while, I give up entirely.
After nearly two hours pass, I suddenly know exactly where we are. I’ve been on this part of this freeway before. I scan the horizon to confirm my suspicions. When I see the water tower in the distance, I gasp. “Tell me we’re going to the zoo.”
Fox doesn’t quite hide a smile. “It’s still a secret.”
But when he pulls off at the Woodward exit, I know I’m right. I haven’t been to the Detroit Zoo since before my dad left—not that I haven’t wanted to go since. But my mom worked full time and she claimed it would be too crowded to go on the weekends. Besides, there was the expense to consider; after my dad left, we didn’t have a ton of extra money. I can count on one hand how many movies we saw in theaters once we were on our own.
As we approach the zoo’s entrance, my skin tingles with barely-suppressed excitement. I wonder how much of it will be like I remember it and how much will be different. I also wonder what the reason could be for this impromptu trip. At two hours away, it’s not like this is a quick jaunt.
Wild Magic Page 11
