He released my ankle and stood up. “Good,” he said. “Your mom still got that . . . whaddaya call it?”
“Fibromyalgia.” As I said the word, I felt my upper lip curl in a sneer. “So she says.”
“She getting better?”
“She’s trying to get social security benefits, you know, the one for disability.”
The words tasted bitter in my mouth.
“Oh yeah,” Matt said. “I saw Big Ed’s car here the other night. He’s her lawyer, right?”
My hands automatically curled into fists. I narrowed my eyes and studied Matt’s face, looking for a smirk or maybe a suggestive wink. Even though I didn’t want to punch him, I could and I would. I knew how to punch. Faye had made sure.
No problem. He’d moved on. Wonder of wonders, he was looking at me. I mean, really looking at me with those sexy blue eyes. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my chest. Whoa! Was he checking out my ’cots? I was suddenly aware I’d outgrown my shorts and tee shirt. Not knowing what else to do, I shoved my hands into the pocket of my cut-offs and took a step back.
“Well, hey, I gotta go check the mail. See ya, Matt.”
His voice followed me as I headed down the driveway. “Hey, kid. If you ever need a ride somewhere, let me know. I got the Jeep running real good.”
Because my mouth had fallen open once again, I settled for a casual wave of acknowledgement even though I wanted to pump a fist in the air and scream, “YES!”
As I trotted to the mailbox, the late April sunlight warm on my shoulders, I pondered this strange turn of events. Even though he called me “kid,” clearly Matt had noticed a couple of new bulges on my formerly stick-like body. Hmmm. Had my tumble off the ladder, followed by the electric fence zapping, released some sort of male-a couple of new bulges on my formerly stick-like body. Hmmm. Had my tumble off the ladder, followed by the electric fence zapping, released some sort of male-attracting hormone?
In spite of my mini-triumph, Matt-wise, a dull headache began to throb painfully at the back of my skull. I opened the mailbox and, as predicted, Faye’s check had not arrived. There was, however, a familiar tan envelope from the Social Security Office of Adjudication and Review. Probably another 396
form for Faye to fill out asking questions like, “Are you able to push a grocery cart?” And, “Can you walk up a flight of stairs?” Questions Faye had already answered
“No” and “No.”
When I handed her the envelope, Faye sighed and dropped it, unopened, onto the pile of similar tan envelopes stacked between the bed and wall.
“Big Ed’s coming tomorrow. I’ll let him deal with it.” She looked pointedly at her watch. I took the hint. It was time for Fay’s nightly ritual, two slices of peanut butter toast and two cans of Busch Light. The menu varied only on Thursday night. Big Ed night. He always brought burgers, fries and a fifth of Stoli. Not that I’m around on Thursdays. No way. But, when I come home on Friday, the place smells of grease and vodka.
Let me make this crystal clear. Big Ed was Faye’s lawyer, not her boyfriend. That was what Faye said. He’d been working day and night on her case for two years. That was what Big Ed said. Me? I had my doubts.
Later that night, I heard the sound of Faye’s rhythmic breathing and tiptoed back to the bedroom. I gathered up the empties and the plate littered with peanut butter-smeared crusts and tossed them in the garbage.
Tomorrow was Thursday, Big Ed night. I’d be staying with Kizzy Lovell, the town witch. That was what a lot of kids called her. Since I wouldn’t be home until Friday, I made sure I had clean underwear in my backpack.
As the evening wore on, my headache grew steadily worse. At ten, I turned out the light. I pulled the curtains back so I could see the night sky, a brilliant canopy of far-flung stars and a full-faced moon. I held my hand up to the window. Bathed in moonlight, my palm looked washed in silver, its tell-tale lines carved in dark relief by the unknown maker of my fate. I thought about the times Kizzy studied the lines on my palm and said, “You’re a special girl, Alfrieda. Like it or not, you have the Gift.”
Every time I’d say, “What gift?” Kizzy would smile mysteriously and say, “You’ll see,” which really irritated me because, clearly, the only gift I had was the ability to get all-A’s on my report card. Even that wasn’t a gift, since I hated Algebra and had to work my butt off. I had no sooner wrapped up in my faded pink quilt and snuggled into the couch bed when I remembered the aspirin and glass of water I’d placed by the bathroom sink before I brushed my teeth. I groaned and switched on the light. The bathroom was only a few steps away. But in my present state—cotton-mouthed and head pounding with pain—the distance seemed as vast as the Sahara Desert. I swung my feet to the floor and turned my head slowly toward the bathroom. I could see the glass of water perched on the counter like it was taunting me, “Come and get me, Allie.”
I reached out a hand, thinking, It would be a whole lot easier if you came to me, and it happened again. The whole dark-around-the-edges, tunnel-vision, buzzing-in-the-head thing. The glass teetered back and forth, danced a little jig across the counter and shot into the air for a moment before it slammed onto the floor and shattered into about a jillion pieces.
“What the hell’s going on, Allie?”
I looked up to see my mother standing in the narrow hallway. My hand, still extended toward the glass that wasn’t there, shook violently. “I dropped it. That’s all,” I said.
“Go back to bed. I’ll clean it up.”
Faye’s eyes narrowed in suspicion but finally, she turned and trudged back to the bedroom. When I opened the door and stepped outside to fetch the broom, I was greeted by a symphony of night music. Strangely, the pain in my head was gone. The soft spring air was alive with a chorus of crickets backed by a full orchestra of spring peepers, their mating songs accompanied by the tinkle of wind chimes.
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But, hold on. We didn’t have wind chimes. We’d never had wind chimes. I walked to the back of the trailer and stared up at the gnarled old apple tree next to Blaster’s pasture. Nudged by a gentle breeze, long silver tubes bumped together, creating a melody with subtle variations as the air around them ebbed and flowed. It was stabilized by a dangling iridescent glass ball whose surface caught and held the moonlight.
Must be some prank of Matt’s. Vowing I’d figure it out in the morning, I grabbed the broom, opened the door and froze. A woman sat on my couch bed. A woman with flowers in her long, dark hair, wearing a pink-and-yellow, tie-dye dress embellished with a blazing purple sun. A woman, smoking what looked and smelled like weed. I opened my mouth, preparing to scream so loudly and shrilly the shards of glass on the floor would shatter into even smaller pieces. The woman said, “Hi. I’m Trilby, your spirit guide. Guess what? You just passed your first test. Isn’t that groovy?”
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Table of Contents
PART FAERY AND HAS A FAKE GRANDPA ALL IN ONE WEEK! STAY TUNED
Table of Contents
Book 3 The Unbidden Magic Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter One
Moon Spun Page 24
