by Abra Ebner
Max leaned back on his heels, his stance amused. He wore a black sweater, the wool furled ever so slightly as though washed the wrong way. The sleeves were casually pressed back to his elbows, exposing the ever present tattoos.
His hand moved to my chin, lifting it. He forced me to look into his eyes, the exact same eyes in my dream. “What are you doing tonight?” He was calm and confident, his lips shaping around the words in a way that made my heart flutter.
His breath was intoxicating, laced with the sugary mint smell I’d tasted in the dream. I exhaled through my nose until the breath was void from my lungs, not wanting to give in so easily. I calmed myself. “Nothing.” I thought of the Jane Austen book I was planning to read.
“Would you like to come meet my grandfather?”
I felt a surge of excitement as the hope exploded, my feet feeling as though they had left the ground. I smiled wide, unable to contain it. “Yes!” My attempts to remain cool had failed—Jane Austen was dead.
Max chuckled. “I figured you would.”
I couldn’t stop smiling, and for a moment, I was no longer nervous.
“I thought you would enjoy seeing where I live, since I’ve seen where you do.” He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with mine, once again exposing my vulnerabilities. “If I haven’t made it clear, Beautiful, I want to know you better.”
I didn’t know what to say in return. His address seemed so formal, as though he was trying to make his intentions known. I lifted one brow, laughing to ease my nerves.
“You think I’m joking?” He didn’t laugh in return, staring determinedly. The corners of his lips curled just enough to appear pleasant.
I brushed my foot across the ground, my laugh fading. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I—yeah, I want to know you, too.” I nodded.
His smile returned. “I feel a connection with you.” His dimple made an appearance. “It’s no surprise that I find you very… striking.”
My stomach tugged, filling my limbs with a wash of adrenaline. I looked down at my baggy jeans and oversized long sleeved shirt that poked out from under my father’s old jacket. I didn’t understand what he found striking about me. I knew that once upon a time—before my father’s death—I’d had a lot of potential. If I’d kept up with my looks, I would have surpassed Liz in popularity for sure. It would be me that all her minions would be falling over to impress—only a brunette version.
Max looked to the ceiling of the corridor. “I just have a feeling, you know? You do something to me.” He looked back at me, his blue eyes narrow.
I could relate with that feeling.
I heard the bell ring, my anxieties to get to class on time tickling my mind. He turned and stood beside me. “Come on, Stalker. I’ll walk you to class.”
I laughed.
“Oh, I almost forgot…” He had his hands in his pocket and was rummaging for something. “I told my grandfather about your interests in his work. He gave me something that he wanted you to have. He’s an old man, but he never gets tired of meeting a fan of history.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and laughed. “So, this was his idea, not mine. Though, I don’t mind being the one to give it to you.”
Max held his fist toward me, slowly unrolling his fingers. A ring lay in his palm, tarnished with age. My heart stopped. It was so beautiful, made of a white stone that seemed to glow despite the tarnish.
“What is it?” It was a dumb question, but what else was there to say? I’d never been given a gift quite like it.
With his other hand he grabbed mine, bringing it up and holding it flat as he rolled the ring into my palm. At first I didn’t know what to think as I held it. The ring felt so strange against my skin, and it took a moment for the feeling to register. It was—warm.
He rolled my fingers over it. His firm touch cold in contrast with the ring. “It’s a magick ring,” he whispered. “Or so my grandfather says it is. It’s made of an ancient stone, a very rare stone that’s meant for protection.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. “A magick ring?” I couldn’t get past his initial explanation. As I felt the ring in my grasp, I nearly forgot about how beautiful he was.
I rolled my fingers open as he released my grip. I stared at it, unable to deny the fact that it had to be magick. How else could it be so warm when his grasp was so cold? I’d read about the tales of magick that his grandfather spoke of, and I always wondered if something could be offered as proof. To me, this was all the proof I would ever need.
I thought about all the things his grandfather had written pertaining to the ancient claims of magick, and the sorcerers that were not unlike those we read about in everyday fairytales. I didn’t remember reading about the ring in his grandfather’s writings, but perhaps it was meant to be a secret. Modern claims at magickal rings were not uncommon, but one like this was anything but. It was said that they once found a whole grouping of true magickal rings in the Fairy Caves, but when the rings were proven to be no more than mere silver—containing no trace of anything out of the ordinary—it was then believed to be nothing but a hoax.
“Is it safe to wear?” I finally spoke.
He nodded. “Yes, of course. I think that’s what my grandfather intended.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re grandfather’s intentions, right?”
He laughed. “I told you, Beautiful, it’s not from me,” he claimed.
I was only teasing, but the way he continued to react made me question him. I raised my eyebrows, giving him a speculative nod. Max grinned, enjoying our banter. I was finally gaining an edge on the conversation, and was now able to gain my typical confidence back.
We reached my home-room as I slid the ring on the middle finger of my right hand. It fit perfectly, as though molding to the shape of my finger to create an ideal fit. The warmth of it felt protective and safe, as its purpose would imply. “Well, tell your grandfather thank you for me.”
Max had his hands in his pockets once more. “You can say so yourself, tonight. Pick you up around six?”
I twisted the ring on my finger. “Okay.” I smiled, lost in adoration, completely forgetting the fact that he had practically abandoned me for the past six days.
He touched my face, tucking a chunk of my hair behind my ear. When he pulled his hand away, there was a white origami dove tucked between his fingers. The delicate bird contrasted with his edgy aura. He held it there, waiting for me to take it. I lifted my hand, plucking it from his grasp, amazed by the delicate perfection of it. He turned and walked away; I watched him, the smile on my face seemingly permanent. I grabbed the handle of the door for balance, taking a moment to compose myself before walking in. I took a seat, my fingers shaking as I unfolded the small bird.
My stomach tugged.
BEAUTIFUL
It was written in small, perfect capital letters. My stomach fluttered, sending my heart into overdrive.
Wes:
I leaned back in my seat in math class, feeling rather smug. Emily was down the aisle from me. She slid down in her seat, and I watched as her skirt grazed across her thigh. I tightened my jaw. Her hair fell into her face, and she was quick to tuck it behind her ear. She glanced at me sideways, and smiled slyly. I smiled back, looking to the front of the room, pretending that I hadn’t been staring though I knew that she knew.
I began to wonder if she had heard anything Jane had said in the car. Though Jane hadn’t said anything that would upset Emily, I was still cognizant of the fact that the occasional thought of Jane would creep into my mind. Throughout the week, I’d learned that the more crowded the room, the more distracted Emily became, and thus, the less she heard from me. It was those moments when I chose to get my consideration about Jane out of the way, such as now. The way I saw it, there were three desks and three minds between Emily and me, three lines of thought she would have to sift through to find mine.
I glanced back at Emily, unable to resist watching her. Why hadn’t I ever noticed her before? Was I so b
linded by Jane that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me?
The teacher walked to the front of the room, watching Emily with a close eye, suspecting that her act last week had been a fraud. Emily shot him a sassy smirk, extending her leg as though tempting him. I rolled my eyes, at last understanding why she did these things. She was a no-nonsense girl, always pushing the envelope, and I liked it. I’d never felt so much excitement and adrenaline. I’d never felt so alive. For the first time, I was beginning to see what it meant to have someone love me.
I flexed my chest and sat back. My muscles felt good. I thought about the lion, thinking that if this were something I could control, then being something like a wolf, or lion, made a lot more sense than the weepy raven I’d first changed into. I looked at the kids around me, so oblivious to this whole other world, oblivious to the power I had. Why I had this talent was what I was beginning to wonder. What exactly was I meant to use it for?
“Gregory, please continue with this problem.” The teacher broke my concentration, saying a name I wasn’t familiar with. I sat up, looking to the back of the room as a chair brushed across the floor. He was wearing all black, his narrow green eyes less than impressed by the fact that the teacher had called on him. I watched him as he stood, a noticeable afterglow glimmering behind his kelly-green stare. My heart beat faster, feeling a familiar hatred toward this boy, the same hatred I felt for Max. That’s when I realized this must be the other brother all the rumors were going on about.
The teacher looked noticeably frightened as Gregory strode to the front of the room, leaning close to him in a threatening manner. Gregory took the dry erase marker from his hand as the teacher cowered away. It was then that I felt Emily’s heart amongst all the others, surging to life. I winced, the pitch of it like a scream in my head. I looked at her, seeing her squirm as though to hide the fact that she was clearly put-off by the new student. Her head was bowed, her hair forming a curtain that hid her face. How did she know him?
I looked back at Gregory, jealousy tingling throughout my body. Was he one of her dealers? A crush? But that didn’t make sense. Hardly anyone had spoken to the brothers at all, so how could she act this way? I saw him glance at her, a noticeable look of hunger in his eyes. Looking back at Emily, I saw she was still squirming, now touching her temple as her heart throbbed in my own.
I watched Gregory with a heightened sense of protective duty, noticing my own feelings of unease toward him were growing. My mind went wild, now wondering if he had assaulted Emily somehow. She hadn’t told me anything, but would she? Gregory finished the long equation with a flagrant dot that rattled the board. He had answered it perfectly.
He tossed the marker at the teacher who fumbled to catch it. Gregory walked back to his desk, leaning into the chair with a look that was smugger than my own. I glared at Emily, trying to get her to look at me. When she did, I saw the pain in her eyes. My emotions were suddenly a mess, my hormones raging. I felt sweat form on my brow, and for the rest of class, I wasn’t sure if I even breathed. I was too afraid that if I let myself go, my secret would be revealed.
And the new kid would be dead.
Emily:
There was something about this Gregory kid, something evil. He was seducing me, and I felt his body the same way I had that day he had approached me in the parking lot, when he gave me the pills. What was he doing in my head? And whose voices were those that followed him?
Class was almost over, but I was afraid to move. I felt Gregory waiting for me in the back of the room, as though he were hunting me down. His thoughts were impossible to hear over the screaming, and though I tried to endure it, I couldn’t. I flashed Wes another painful look, hearing his thoughts flood with uncertainty, jealousy and anger. The students filtered out, and I held my breath as I saw Gregory move from his chair, his gaze locked on mine. He approached, leaning close to my ear—too close. I dared myself to stare at him, and for a moment, I swear I saw his green eyes flash with flecks of red. He smiled, and his hand touched my thigh.
“Hello, Darling.” His voice whispered over the screams in his head.
I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, but my lips were sealed. There was a foreign twang of both familiarity and fear resonating through my thoughts. Greg laughed, knowing he was making me uncomfortable. I forced back his image and thought about Wes, focusing on him as someone grabbed Greg by the shoulder, shoving him away from me.
“Leave her alone,” Wes had appeared beside me. He growled at Greg.
I took a deep breath, afraid it was the last one I’d be able to sneak in before a fight broke out. Greg shoved Wes away from him, causing Wes to flail backwards. Wes steadied himself, about to charge back at Greg.
“Hey, hey!” the teacher interjected. “Break it up!”
My eyes darted toward the teacher, seeing him standing at his desk, clearly frightened. Seeing that he was a small, rather rotund man, I was surprised he’d said anything at all. With a closer look at his thoughts, I saw he had been driven by his educational duties to keep the peace, and his promise to do so. I twisted to face Wes, glaring at him to stop. His body was taut, and his muscles flexed.
“Control yourself,” I whispered through clenched teeth, praying that his animal instincts wouldn’t kick in and a bloodbath would ensue.
Gregory suddenly stood tall, glaring at me and then Wes, as though he had discovered something interesting that he hadn’t noticed before. “Well, would you look at that,” he seethed under his breath. His gaze locked on mine. “You’re a—and you…” His head snapped to meet Wes’s fuming mask. Greg snorted, straightening his black leather jacket as he stood tall, finding us—for some reason—more amusing than before. He nodded toward the teacher as the teacher swallowed hard.
My heart pumped harder, the breath in my lungs hot.
I was a what? And Wes was a who?
It was all I could think about. What was he going to say? What was it that he knew about me?
Greg let one more exalted laugh pass his lips before he turned and strode out of the room, no further explanation offered.
As the door slammed behind him, Wes’s face faded from anger to guilt. “Sorry Mr. Johnson,” he looked at the teacher in a rueful manner.
The teacher seemed to be breathing again, which was an improvement. He nodded, bracing himself against the desk. He cleared his throat nervously, waving us away with his other hand. “Oh, yeah… it’s fine.”
I grabbed Wes’s hand, trying to pull him from the room, knowing that the seemingly confident Mr. Johnson was about to be sick with nerves. “What was that?” I hissed as we turned and walked away from the teacher. I was confused.
I heard Wes swallow hard. “I don’t know, but that kid knows something we don’t.”
I snorted as I grabbed the handle of the door. “Something tells me that’s not a good thing, either.” I began to regret taking the drugs from him.
Wes gave me a grave look of agreeability. “I think you’re right. I don’t think we’re alone.”
Jane:
“Hi.” I got into Max’s car, remembering to buckle in this time.
Max smirked. “Thank you. You remembered.”
He eyed my outfit, a dramatic change from earlier. My mother had finally showed a bit of motherly grit, forcing me to accompany her to the mall where she placed me in a new pair of sale skinny jeans and a modest, yet form fitting long cardigan. At the end of it, my mother was so drunk with a joy I thought was gone forever, that she’d even splurged on a pair of tall black riding boots.
“Of course. I understand your emphasis on vehicle safety…” I looked out the window. “I was in a horrible accident when I was seven. Buckling in is something I’ve always done. I think that one time, though, I just forgot because…” I trailed off on purpose, hoping he could fill in the blanks—blanks meaning I’d forgotten because all I could think about was how lucky I was to be in his car.
Max’s smirk grew. “Oh, I get it. You were distracted.” He
winked at me and backed out of my driveway as his headlights lit the front porch of the house, illuminating the fact that my mother was standing in the window, watching us with a proud look on her face.
I smiled to myself. Most people asked further questions, or acted awkward when I mentioned the accident, but Max hadn’t. He didn’t even seem curious, as though he already knew about it. I twisted the ring on my finger, finding it was my new nervous habit.
“I hope you’re hungry. My grandfather insisted on making a feast. Or rather, catering a feast.”
I furrowed my brow. I’d never had anything catered.
“He’s rather old-fashioned when it comes to entertaining. I tried to explain to him that when people come over, there is no need to get so formal. He clearly doesn’t get out much, nor does he have many guests—at least not for the last fifty years.”
I smiled. “He’s probably lonely, Max. I understand.” I pressed my palm against the seat, hoping the cool leather could cause the blushing in my cheeks to stop.
“Yeah, his interest in history bores most, so as you can imagine, the result is a lack of people willing to listen.” He tapped his fingers against the wheel, exuding an aura that I would never find to be interested in history of any kind. “But when I told him you had a special interest in his brand of history, he nearly fell over with excitement. He’s a ninety-six year old man; not much happens in his life anymore.”
It felt good to know that, but where were Max’s parents? Would I meet them, too? “What about your parents? They don’t visit?”
I saw Max’s features change, and the glimmer in his eye disappeared.
“I mean…” I knew that look, and I instantly wanted to take my comment back. I shut my eyes, cursing to myself. Of course! Why hadn’t I figured it out sooner?
“They died a long time ago.” His voice was monotone.
