Feathermore

by Lucy Swing

  * * *

  That evening, he picked me up a little before eight. The nights were beginning to get much colder now, and I had needed to bundle up, making a complete hash of my plan to look sexy.

  I had decided, with some help from Claire, to wear my black leggings with a plaid skirt over them, a long-sleeved black V-neck shirt, my thick black trench coat, a scarf, and knee-high leather boots. Okay, maybe I did look a little bit hot still.

  When I walked into the living room, where he was waiting for me, he stumbled to his feet, his mouth slightly open as he took me in. The outfit appeared to be a success after all.

  I giggled under my breath and reached behind him for my purse.

  “You look great, babe,” he said as he gave me his arm. “Ready?”

  I locked my arm around his and let him lead me out the door.

  Neither of us was hungry, so we decided to skip dinner and catch a movie—popcorn and a soda would fill me up just the same. There was nothing very exciting playing at the single movie theater in town, but then, we weren’t feeling especially picky.

  We made our way up the aisle. He walked in front of me up the steps and pulled me to the last row, and we sat in the middle of the row, with a perfect view of the screen. He settled into his seat and put the large soda in the armrest cup holder, then set the bucket of popcorn on my lap and grabbed a handful.

  For a Friday night, it was pretty empty. There were couples scattered here and there, and a handful of people sitting alone. I figured that everyone who was anyone must be at Amy Crayhill’s party.

  I won’t deny it: part of me wanted to go and have a great time like any other kid in school rather than be an outcast, treated as if I had the plague. Even though the rumors about me had proved false and I was cleared of all suspicion, people still kept me at a distance. I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself, though. The second I set foot in Amy’s house, people would start talking about it until word of mouth reached her. I could just see her so vividly, stomping her way over to me, yelling a little, embarrassing me only to kick me out, making a huge scene for everyone to talk about for the next couple of days.

  The movie ended up being a real tearjerker, and by the end of it I was bawling. I hadn’t let Avan see me cry when my parents died, but here I was, weeping over some stupid movie. He squeezed me with the arm he had kept around my shoulder throughout the whole movie. He lifted my chin to face him, and I looked up into his eyes, as if I could see through them and into his soul. I didn’t want to lose him. I loved him too much.

  The pull of the energy between us was almost visible. There was an undeniable connection, and I knew that it ran deeper than the mere fact that I, apparently, had voluntarily fallen from heaven for him. There were so many changes taking place in my life, so much that had been sacrificed. I didn’t want him to be one of them. I would do whatever it took to keep him safe, to keep him from running away. But then again, was there anything I could do about that?

  His lips parted as he tried to say something, but I wouldn’t let him. I smothered his words with a kiss. My fingers were in his curls, pressing him against me, my tongue entwining with his. His arm dropped to the small of my back and pulled me closer against him. This time my back started burning, letting me know just how close I was to giving myself away. The kiss deepened, his hands gliding around the sides of my body. I felt him groan softly as our tongues seemed to merge. The stinging between my shoulders grew sharper.

  We were both out of breath when I pulled away. My lips felt scorching hot and swollen. I took a few deep breaths, letting the pain recede until it was nothing but a minor ache. I felt as if we were the only people in the world. Everything around us was blurry and out of focus, like an impressionist painting.

  A bright light shone on us from the aisle. The usher had caught us making out. I buried my head in Avan’s chest, embarrassed, while he apologized. I wondered how long it had been since the movie ended. It felt as if only a minute had gone by. He handed me my coat, and I slid the leather strap of my purse over my shoulder. He held my hand as we went out into the chilly night.

  We sat in the car without talking, waiting for the heater to warm us up. Even inside the car, our breath fogged. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and was glad to see I wasn’t the only one grappling with my inner beast. He looked deep in thought.

  Outside, a group of college students walked past our car, knocking on the window and making obscene gestures.

  I was afraid of where I wanted to take our relationship next, knowing the full extent and the terrible finality of the consequences that the choice would entail. Somehow, though, right now it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. When I fell from heaven, no one came looking for me to take me back. No one did a double take when I went missing. I obviously wasn’t as important to anyone up there as Claire and Nate made it seem. Avan was all I had left, and I loved him to pieces. I wanted to be with him no matter what the risks were.

  We drove in silence to my house, feeling a little awkward for some reason. When we finally got there he put the car in park but didn’t kill the engine, instead letting its purr fill the silence. I didn’t want to spend the night alone, and I felt uneasy knowing he would be alone as well. But asking him to stay screamed of desperation. He would most likely get the wrong impression, and there was nothing I could do about that at the moment.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as he wrapped my hand in his.

  I thought about it for a minute and then shifted my weight to face him. Even here in the darkened car, he managed to leave me breathless.

  He stared intently, waiting for me to proceed, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.

  “What would you do if I turned out to be someone different?”

  “What do you mean?” His eyelids scrunched.

  “Would you still love me?”

  “Jade, what are you talking about?”

  Why isn’t he just answering the question! I searched his eyes, hoping that somewhere I could find the answer I was looking for, but nothing came.

  “I—I don’t know,” he finally replied. “It depends, I guess.”

  It depends… I nodded in acknowledgment as the red flag waved right in front of me. Letting go of his hand, opened the car door, and the chill of the night licked my face and began to seep into me. “Good night,” I said. Before he could say anything else, I closed the door and ran up the driveway and into the house.

  After I slammed the door and heard the roar of his engine speeding away, I fell to the ground. He would never accept me for who I was. It was all in vain, I had fallen in love with someone who wouldn’t love the real me back. After the frustration ceased and I was able to think again, I looked around the house. It was empty, dark, and cold—just like my soul.

  I dragged my feet up the stairs, and this time I opened the door that led to my past, to everything I had once had and loved. The scent of vanilla floated in the air, wrapping around me and bringing me down to the shattered shell that I truly was.

  I stood at the door for a moment, taking in the dark room. My hand found the switch, and the lights blazed on. The bed was perfectly made, and the whole room was immaculate, no doubt thanks to Claire’s cleaning team. I walked in, grazing my fingertips against the dresser with its perfumes and colognes neatly set in a bamboo basket. I picked Mom’s favorite perfume and sprayed it on my left arm, then got Dad’s favorite cologne and sprayed it on my right arm. I smelled one and then the other, both of them together. I started to break down. I could feel my already shattered soul cracking into ever smaller pieces.

  Being in their room, surrounded by their things, made it all sink in: they were truly gone. But as much as I tried to move on, to go on with this new life I had, they were always present in my mind. I lay down on their bed, in their picture-perfect room. I hugged the pillow and allowed myself to let go. The tears came easily, and hearing my own sobs made it even more painful.

  I sprang suddenly awake on t
he bed. My head felt heavy and thick. It took me a moment to realize where I was. The noise that had woken me was there again. Footsteps. I lifted the blankets off me and tiptoed to the door. Whoever was in my house was getting closer. I hid behind the door and waited.

  The footsteps stopped at the entrance to my parents’ room. I listened intently, but there was nothing, yet I could feel its presence.

  Manifest! my own inner voice told me. I concentrated and felt the weight of my dad’s .357 Magnum revolver in my hand. Through the crack, I saw a person take a step into the room. I closed my eyes, gathering the strength I needed for what would come next. Before I could change my mind I moved in front of the door, holding the gun up, ready to fire if needed.

  I was alone in the room. After willing all the lights in the whole house to come on, I peered onto the hallway. Nothing. I searched the house but could find no trace that anyone had been here. I was losing my mind. It was now official. Seeing things that were not there? What was wrong with me?

  The microwave showed that it was 2:37 am. I was starving—popcorn and root beer didn’t seem to have enough staying power. I pulled a bucket of chocolate cookie dough from the freezer and turned on the oven. While the cookies baked, I turned on the TV and flicked to the cartoon channel. It would be a perfect way to keep me from thinking of someone lurking about in my house.

  I ran up the stairs two at a time, afraid someone might still be in here somehow, and grabbed my cell phone from Mom’s nightstand. I had one text from Claire, wondering how the movie had been.

  “It was a cry-me-a-river kind of movie.

  I think someone was in my house.

  See you tomorrow.”

  I hadn’t made it back to the couch when the doorbell rang, making my heart jump. I walked to the entrance, clutching the manifested gun, and looked through the peephole.

  “What the hell are you doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack!” I yelled as I swung the door open.

  Claire walked in and closed the door behind her. She didn’t smile or even look at me. She just used her supernatural speed around the house. When she finally sat down next to me on the couch, she grabbed one of my cookies and pointed at the TV.

  “Oh, I love this one!” she said. “It’s the one where Tom falls in love with the female cat and does all these stupid things to get her attention, but then Jerry—”

  “Thanks, Claire,” I said. “I really don’t need you to tell me what it’s about. I’ve seen it as many times as you have.”

  “Well, someone is a little snappy tonight,” she said, and wolfed down half the cookie.

  “Well, let’s see, shall we? My boyfriend may never accept who I am, someone is trying to kill me, and—oh, yes, that’s right, let’s not forget—someone was here!” My raised voice carried throughout the house.

  “What happen with Avan?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important.”

  She took a long look at me, and she knew. It was best to let me be. “Whoever was here was one of us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah, you know—a good guy.”

  Then what the hell was a good guy doing creeping around my house! I wondered if it was the stranger I kept seeing, the one who had been on my front door—or whom I had imagined there, anyway. I kept seeing him randomly around town. It almost seemed as if he was stalking me. I had to wonder whether he was in cahoots with Lilith.

  21. CAMPING GONE GRONG