by Bre Hall
She was just about to roll the bike over the top of the ledge when a vine wound through the spokes and caught, tugging the front wheel, jerking Ren forward. Her boot slipped in a soft layer of dirt below and her knee buckled. Just as she was about to take a tumble, two strong hands jumped onto her hips, steadying her.
“Woah, there cowgirl,” Peter said. “Don’t go falling on me, now.”
He didn’t pull back right away. She didn’t move either. Beneath his touch, her skin chittered, writhed in an unfamiliar way. Her breath failed her. She swallowed loudly.
“Thanks,” she whispered, before she reached down to untangle the vine from the spokes and continued up the bank.
They crossed the bridge in silence, her father’s sorghum field on the other side pressing down on her, the sweet smell putting her senses into a trance. She breathed it in, knowing in a week or so, the combines would roll through, gnawing away the crop, and leave only dust in their wake.
“What’s next?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, now that I’ve seen all I can from Charlotte,” she said. “Do you help me hone my levitating power like Mr. Miyagi and the Karate Kid?”
“No,” Peter said. “No, I think it’d be best if you touched another relic.”
“You have more of those things?”
“A couple,” he said.
Her shoulders drooped. “That’s it?”
“There are more relics out there, I’m sure,” he said. “But I’ve only gathered a few.”
“Will it make me whole again?”
“I’m counting on it,” he said.
They reached the mouth of her long driveway. Ren turned her bike onto the gravel, but Peter stopped abruptly at the fence post that held the rusty, aluminum mailbox.
“Aren’t you going to come up to the house?” she asked.
“Looks like you already have company,” Peter said, nodding to the porch in the distance. Ren squinted up the path and saw a blurry figure swaying on one of the steps. A mess of acid wash blonde hair fluttered on top of a lanky body.
“It’s just Alfie,” she said.
Peter made a disapproving face. Scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”
“I have school.”
“Skip it.”
“I can’t,” she said. “Not two days in a row.”
“I thought you were a rebel?”
“I am,” she said. “But if I want to keep hanging out with you, I can’t get grounded.”
A strand of her hair shook loose in the breeze and blew across her face. She reached up to tuck it behind her ear, but Peter beat her to it. His fingertips grazed the top of her cheeks ever so lightly. His touch was an electric kind of heat that sizzled through her nervous system even after he pulled away. It made her stomach flutter and her heart beat quickly.
“How about after school, then?” he asked, his voice cavern-deep.
“Alright,” she said.
“You know where to find me.” He turned on his heel, back toward the river. He took one step forward and was suddenly gone. Vanished like before. This time, though, she caught a glimpse of a silver light that almost looked like the tip of a wing.
She started up the driveway. With every step she took toward the porch, where Alfie was standing, the electric spark she’d felt with Peter slowly faded. Part of it was because Peter was gone, but part of it was because, even from a distance, she could see Alfie brooding beneath his thick eyebrows. She didn’t even give the unfamiliar red pickup truck parked in front of the garage a second glance because of the look Alfie was giving her.
“What’s up with you?” she asked when she reached the porch. “You look like you could strangle someone.”
“Were you with him?” Alfie asked. His fists clenched at his side.
“Who?” she asked. “Peter?”
“Is that why you weren’t in school?” Alfie asked. “You went to see him?”
She leaned her bike against one of the square hedges and climbed onto the first porch step. “Why do you care so much?”
“I thought you didn’t trust him?”
“You’re the one who doesn’t trust him,” she said. “I just thought he was a liar.”
“Then what are you doing with him?”
“I don’t think he’s lying anymore.”
Alfie’s fists unclenched, but only slightly. “What made you change your mind?”
“We’ve been experimenting all day,” she said.
“What does that even mean?”
She climbed the rest of the steps and leaned against the porch post opposite Alfie. “It means I can levitate now.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s true,” she said. “I saw Charlotte’s death and the power returned.”
“Show me.”
“I can’t,” she said. “At least I don’t think so. I’ve only done it once and I wasn’t even trying. I just woke up from the vision that way.”
Alfie sat down on the steps and rested his elbows on his knee caps. He tugged on the ends of his hair, making it stand up in Einstein-like spikes. He only did it when something was troubling him. She sat down beside him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“What?”
“School’s not out yet,” she said. “There’s like forty-five minutes left.”
“I left early.”
“You cut class?”
“I told them I had a migraine and that I had to leave,” Alfie said.
“Why would you do that?”
“I was worried about you,” he said. “You were in a weird headspace yesterday. I thought maybe—I don’t know.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“That remains to be seen,” Alfie said. He stared at her until she looked up at him. “I don’t like what you’re doing. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Touching the relics or spending time with Peter?”
“Both,” he said. “All of it. Can’t you just forget about it?”
“Don’t you understand? This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me—that will probably ever happen to me—and if for some reason I get to the end of it and find out it was all a lie, then so be it. It was worth it. Then you get to tell me you told me so. Your favorite thing to say.”
Alfie turned away from her and grumbled, a bear emerging from a long winter. “I still don’t like it.”
“Then come with me tomorrow,” she said. “See for yourself.”
“I don’t know.”
“You can keep an eye on me,” she said.
“Can I tell you when to leave?”
“No,” she said.
“Whatever.” Alfie sighed. “I’ll come anyway.”
She hopped to her feet, feeling strange, giddy almost. She hadn’t felt that way in, well, she didn’t know if she had ever felt that happy. Sure, she’d been excited about rare finds in Richard’s Antiques or about mid-March snow days or even John Hughes marathons with just her, Alfie, and a bowl of popcorn sprinkled in Junior Mints, but never that happy. She always thought she’d have to move away to find that feeling.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel pinged up the driveway and Meredith’s cream-colored SUV swung into view. The giddy feeling coursing through Ren’s veins disappeared immediately. Her stomach plummeted into the heels of her feet.
“Shit,” Ren said. “She’s home early. Why is she home early?”
She didn’t have time to bolt inside and jump under her bed blankets to fake an illness. Meredith was driving fast, her car screaming into the circular turn around in front of the house. She pulled up in front of the garage, parked the SUV next to the red pickup, and was out of it in a flash.
“Good, you’re home,” Meredith said, her voice tight.
“Save me, Alfie,” Ren whispered, but it was too late. Meredith was up the steps and standing in
ches from her in the next breath.
“Did you enjoy school today?” Meredith asked.
“It was okay,” Ren said.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“Because it’s pretty hard to judge the school day when you don’t show up,” Meredith said. “Isn’t it, Ren?”
“It was a half day,” Ren said.
“My ass,” said Meredith. “Where were you?”
“Honest,” she said. “We got out at noon. Isn’t that right, Alfie?”
“I’m not—” Alfie began, but Meredith didn’t even bother.
“I got a call from the school between my lectures,” Meredith said. “I thought I’d come over here on my lunch break and see what was going on.”
“You eat lunch really late,” Ren said.
“Don’t start,” Meredith said. “Not today. Where were you?”
Ren shrugged. “Here.”
“Really?” Meredith asked. “So, if I went in and asked your grandmother, she would say she saw you or heard you at least once today? Or your father for that matter? I’m sure he came in to eat lunch. He would have known if anything unusual was going on.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Ren said. “Honest, Mer. I was here. In my room. Watching movies with the sound turned down.”
“I’m going to just go,” said Alfie quietly. Ren watched as he slipped off the porch steps and walked quickly down the driveway.
“Cut the bullshit,” Meredith said to Ren. “Where were you?”
The front door creaked open and Ren’s dad’s boisterous laugh echoed around the porch. Both Ren and Meredith turned toward the house, where Ren’s dad and a tall, strong man, with skin like smooth chocolate, were coming through the door. They stepped out onto the porch and Ren’s dad finally looked up.
“What are you two doing home?” he asked.
“I just—” Ren began, but Meredith cut her off.
“Who’s this?” Meredith asked, eyeing the stranger.
“This is Joe,” Ren’s dad said. “He’s going to help me out with harvest this year.”
Joe, who seemed a little too put-together in his dark wash blue jeans and brand-new-looking camouflage sweatshirt, stuck out a beefy paw for Ren to shake. She noticed his fingernails were neatly squared and didn’t have a speck of dirt beneath them. She stuck her hand in his, because her dad was giving her the look, the be-polite-now-Ren look.
“Hey,” she said.
Joe turned to Meredith, but she crossed her arms over her chest and squinted at the newcomer until he started down the porch steps. Ren thought that was odd, because Meredith was usually very friendly to all of her dad’s farm hands, especially the new guys. Joe started for the red pickup Ren had noticed earlier.
“See you tomorrow,” Ren’s dad called. “Bright and early.”
“Farewell,” Joe said and slid into the front seat of his car.
As soon as Joe was driving, Ren clenched her jaw, ready for Meredith to start in on her again. Instead, Meredith turned toward Ren’s dad.
“Where’d you find him?” Meredith asked.
“Didn’t,” Ren’s dad said. “He found me. Called this morning looking for work. Ain’t that a coincidence?”
“Are you sure about him?” Meredith asked.
“Says he’s got experience harvesting sorghum,” he said. “What else is there to be sure of?”
“He seemed off to me,” Meredith said.
“Yeah, who says farewell these days?” Ren asked.
“Off?” Ren’s dad questioned, not even hearing her. His eyes were fixed on Meredith. “What do you mean, off?”
Ren wondered if she could slip away like Alfie had. She couldn’t sneak in the front door, because that’s where her dad stood, leaned against the door frame. She backed down the steps one at a time.
“Seemed too clean, is all,” said Meredith.
“I don’t care if he’s clean or as filthy as a pig sty,” Ren’s dad said. “I need a hand and that’s what he is.”
Ren was two steps away from the driveway. If she went around the side of the house, she could make a break for it through the pasture. She could disappear into town or head back to the Johnson place to see Peter.
“Be careful,” Meredith said. “This isn’t mending a fence or feeding cattle. You’ll be using machines, dangerous machines. If he’s inexperienced, you could be the one to pay the price. I’m talking liability if he gets hurt. Or, God-forbid, Hank, what if you do?”
Ren’s dad chuckled. “Do you know how silly you sound? I don’t need to worry about being careful. I’m a grown man Meredith, I can take care of myself.”
“It’s not just you I’m worried about.”
Ren’s boot crunched loudly as she stepped on the gravel. Meredith whirled around. Ren froze. She expected phrases like ‘you’re grounded’ or ‘we’re not finished, young lady’ to spit out of Meredith’s mouth. Instead, she walked past Ren toward her car.
“I’ve got to get to my next class,” Meredith said. “And I have to stay late to grade papers.”
“What about dinner?” Ren’s dad asked.
“There’s frozen pizza in the freezer,” Meredith said. She was in the SUV and driving away before anyone could breathe another word.
Ren stood in the driveway, staring at the cloud of dust Meredith’s tires sprung up. Her dad cleared his throat and she turned back to him.
“Did you already tell me why you’re home from school early?” he asked.
“Half day,” she said quietly.
“You’ll put the pizza in the oven tonight then?” he asked.
Ren was so dumfounded that Meredith would run off so quickly when they were just raring up for one of their epic showdowns, that all she could do was nod aimlessly, and say, “Yeah. Sure.”
“I’ll be in the barn if you need anything,” Ren’s dad said before slipping back into the house and closing the door behind him.
Ren squinted down the driveway. The sorghum swayed in the wind, its bronze heads of grain and vibrant green stalks still clouded in the dust kicked up by Meredith’s tires. She watched as it slowly settled. A calming just after a thunderstorm. Or the lull in the eye of the storm. Just after the first bout of havoc and just before another onslaught.
chapter
11
THAT NIGHT AT DINNER, GRAMS insisted her pizza be brought to her room. When Ren pushed through the door, she found Grams sitting up in her bed with that kiddie tiara plopped on top of her head again. The old woman snapped her fingers and lifted her nose closer to the ceiling.
“I require the entire shaker of parmesan cheese be brought to my chamber, post-haste, if you don’t mind, miss,” Grams said in a nasally, overly pronounced English accent.
“Really?” Ren asked. “The whole shaker?”
“Do you dare deny a request made by your queen?” Grams asked, bits of her usual twang peeking through the cracks of the royal façade. “The consequence of which will have you drawn and quartered.”
Ren made a face. There was no way Grams would inflict the actual punishment, but the repercussion of not bringing the cheese would be great, so she appeased her majesty, the Queen of rural Kansas, and brought her the damn parmesan. Ren quickly joined her dad in the dining room afterward, before more requests could be made.
It was rarely just her and her dad. Though she would never admit it out loud, she missed the days before Grams moved in, before Meredith came along with her pinch-faced nagging. In the years before they arrived on the scene, Ren would spend weekend afternoons riding around the farm on her dad’s shoulders. They’d flit from the barn, to the back acres, to the herd of cattle, and sometimes, if the price per head was on the up, to the lambs that tottered close to the house. In those days, no one told her what to do or demanded anything from her. Those days were bliss. They were freedom.
“How do you put up with her?” Ren asked her dad as she picked off a pepperoni and nibbled on the edges of the greasy disc.
“Which ‘her’ are you talkin’ about?” Ren’s dad asked. He bit into his third slice of pizza, a string of cheese dragging between the slice and his lower lip. “Your grandmother or Meredith?”
“I guess the question applies to both,” she said. “But I’m really talking about Meredith.”
“She’s a busy woman, kiddo,” he said. “She’s got her career and me and you and your grandmother to look after. She’s doin’ her best, don’t you think? She keeps us fed. Keeps us on track.”
“She’s just—” Ren stopped talking.
Meredith’s grandfather clock nearby filled the silence that dropped between them. Tick, tick, tick. Like it wasn’t just telling time, but keeping it moving. The steady swing of the pendulum somehow turning the earth in its rotations. Ever forward.
“Harvest is lookin’ good this year,” her dad said. If he ever felt uncomfortable, he started talking about the harvest or the weather. “Should make up for last year as long as the rain cooperates.”
“Do you still love her?” Ren asked.
“’Course I do.” Her dad chuckled, nervously almost. “Now, who are you talkin’ about?”
“Mom.”
“Your mother, Celia?”
“Yes,” Ren said. “My mother.”
He grunted. Took another bite of his pizza. “Never stopped lovin’ her. She’s the one who stopped lovin’ me.”
“So, why are you with Meredith?” Ren asked.
“Love’s a messy thing, kiddo,” he said. “It ain’t straight like rows of corn. More like a root crop. You never quite know how it’s gonna turn out until you reach into the raw earth and pull it out for inspection in broad daylight.”
“It’s just…” Ren trailed off.
The clock picked up again.
A blanket of tension settled uneasily over the room.
Ren’s dad took one last bite of pizza and pushed back from the table. He rubbed his belly and started for the den, his socks sliding across the hardwood. “I think Texas Ranger’s comin’ on. You got the cleanin’?”
