by H. D. Gordon
As of now, a sort of soft twilight hung over the place, the electricity being conserved even as the sun sank low.
“It went great,” I said, and decided it was not a lie. “I didn’t get in any trouble at all, and neither did Thomas.”
“Damn right you didn’t,” Sam replied. “They should be thanking you, if anything.” She studied me from the corner of her eyes. “So why do I get the feeling that you’re super unhappy, despite the pretty smile you keep putting on your face?”
I shrugged. “Just one of those days, I guess.”
I didn’t want to tell Sam about my opportunity to return to my former life. I would tell her, of course, but not yet. Not tonight. Not until I could give her a real answer. The both of us deserved at least that.
Tonight, I decided, as Caleb and Matt met us at the corner near The Grind, I just wanted to be seventeen years old, hanging with friends, and ringing in a new year. I wanted to stand in the midst of the crowd, one small part of a whole, unnoticed and accepted as an equivalent, to absorb some of the warmth and fuzzies that floated off of them, admire the kaleidoscope of auras.
I studied Matt’s aura as we approached, smiling at the way he lit up as his gaze fell over Sam. With my sensitive ears, I could pick up the quickening of his heart, the hitch of air in his chest.
This could be the last time I saw Matt as well. I glanced around me, at the streets that had become so familiar. I listened to the sounds that had often lulled me to sleep in the former months. I inhaled the scents produced by condensed human populace that I no longer despised.
This could be the end of it all.
Finally, I let my eyes wander to Caleb, who stood beside Matt on the corner outside the coffee shop. As always, he was dressed to the nines, an expensive black coat worn over tailored clothes and shoes that shined darkly against the white snow steady gathering on the streets.
“Hey,” I said, as I approached him. It was lame, but what else was there to be said?
“Hey,” Caleb replied, and held his elbow out to me. “Will you walk with me?”
I slipped my arm through his without hesitation, careful not to injure my still-healing hand.
Matt offered his arm to Sam, and the four of us melted into the crowd that was thickening, following the flow of foot traffic down the closed-off streets. There was a quiet hum to the air, an excited anticipation that was miraculously managing to keep my worries at bay, if only for tonight.
Five blocks later, we found ourselves lost in the sea of people making their way to the Grant City Central Park, where the lighting ceremony and countdown to New Years would take place. In order to stay together, Sam linked hands with me, and our little chain of four waded deeper into the fray.
The GCCP was similar to any park you’d find in the cities of the United States; freshly paved sidewalks and well-manicured grasses served as a brief escape from the concrete jungle that was Grant City. In the springtime, I knew various flowers would bloom in the gardens, and the trees would assume some color again. Right now, the beds and branches sat bare, the life within them deep in hibernation as the frosty air decorated them with flakes the size of cotton balls.
I held up a hand and caught some snow on the palm of it, closing my eyes and feeling the kiss of snowflakes falling on my face. Tilting my head back, I soaked it all in. My world may have been falling down around me along with the snow, but I had learned an important lesson; when moments like these came, it was wise to grab hold and squeeze with all you had.
“I wish you could see yourself right now, the way I’m seeing you,” Caleb whispered beside me, the sincerity in his voice making a smile form on my lips.
I didn’t open my eyes. I was floating on the high spirits of those gathered. It was a rare thing, to be in a crowd of people in uniformly good moods, and I wanted to bask in it.
“How do you see me right now?” I asked, wanting to hear kind words, and knowing I could count on Caleb for them.
Fingers brushed against my hair, and I opened my eyes to see Caleb’s handsome face, which was flush with the kiss of cold in the air.
“I see strength, courage, and selflessness,” he told me, his voice so low that only I could hear. “I see pain, and heartache… and happiness, I think, despite it all, but I also see a part that wants to run, to run away from here… to be home.”
A lump had begun forming in my throat. Half of me wanted to tell him to shut up. The other half was hanging from the words.
I could do nothing to stop the desperate way I sounded when I asked, “Where is home? How do I know where is home?”
We’d come to a stop, our little group of four having moved as close to the festivities in the park as we were able with the amount of others present. People had brought out blankets and lawn chairs, and were set up camp-style in nearly every piece of available lawn, all gathered around a giant, four-sided clock that sat atop a metal post in the center of the gardens. Children with snow hats and thick, fluffy gloves ran through the assembled, carrying glow sticks and crying out in delight as the snowflakes brushed at their cheeks and their little feet left trails as they went. The sky above was a blue deepening to purple, the skyline of the city’s buildings enclosing us on all sides.
But Caleb and I may as well have been alone in that moment, because it seemed there was nothing else around me. I was just a girl, waiting for an answer to a very important question, and the rest of the world was waiting with me.
Where is home? How do I know where is home?
As if the handsome boy before me could answer this for me, as if there was an answer to this at all.
Caleb’s arm went about me, and he tucked me in at his side, sharing with me his warmth. I rested my head against his shoulder as a hush fell over the crowd. The countdown to midnight was about to begin.
On my other side, Sam’s small hand entwined with mine, and she pressed close as well, huddling near along with Matt, who gave me his wide, semi-goofy smile from Sam’s other side.
Voices began to raise into the air, the sound of my own mingling along with them, as if we were one and the same.
Just before the ticking hand on the clock struck twelve, Caleb Cross turned me toward him, shifting me gently by the shoulders. “You just know, beautiful girl,” he told me in the softest of whispers, offering an answer at last. “You just know.”
As the crowd erupted into cheers, and streamers rained down over our heads, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, knowing that it would be the last one we shared.
Because he was right, and it was time to go home.
CHAPTER 54
Rose blinked at me, alarm and disappointment leaking into her aura. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
I nodded at the same time as a no ran through my head. “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m sorry to let you down, and I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve loved working here. I just… I have to go. I’m sorry for the short notice.”
“You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?” Rose asked.
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I answered, and wondered why it felt like a lie.
“When are you going?”
“Tomorrow.”
Rose tucked some of her graying brown hair behind her ear. This news upset her, but she was trying to hide it. “That’s sudden… Will you be coming back?”
Another shake of my head. “No, ma’am. I don’t think so.”
I watched as conflicting emotions raged through my now-former boss’s aura. A part of her was devastated, legitimately upset about the prospect of losing me, but oddly, there was also a clear streak of relief there that made me pause. Though I didn’t think Rose suspected me of anything, there must’ve been something in her that recognized me as not belonging here, and that something felt relief that I would be going.
This conclusion hurt me more than I wished it would have. I
shifted on my feet, switching the grip of my skateboard so that I could offer Rose a quick hug before retreating. The deed had been done, and now I wanted to get out of here. There were other affairs still to be closed up.
“Thank you again,” I said, pushing open the door to the shop, listening to the chime of the bell overhead one last time.
“Can I still reach you on your cell?” Rose asked, biting her lip. “In case I want to check in?”
I paused, watching her aura for a moment. There was such a rainbow of emotion running through it that I couldn’t help but take notice.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d like that.”
***
On the scale of difficult goodbyes, Rose’s had been the least heart wrenching. It was New Year’s Day, and tomorrow I would tell Nick that I would return to the Brokers with him. Tomorrow, I would leave Grant City, and return to the path that had been carved for me so long ago. Tomorrow, I would go home.
My reasons were many, and I didn’t feel like I owed an explanation, but it would be a lie to say that I hadn’t compiled a list of pros and cons for both sides of the coin, and that returning to the Brokers and assuming my previous station was the obvious most logical choice.
The news and media was still slamming the Masked Maiden, the mayor and Chief of Police having reiterated and doubled their offered reward for my capture. Grant City as a whole seemed to be turning against me, the people eager for my blood.
Not to mention the fact that Andrea Ramos—the big stupid head—had put me on the radar of those detectives, and Caleb had told me himself that my name had been whispered by his father, the very man offering the reward for my apprehension.
On top of that, I was barely making enough money to survive here, and I was ending up badly injured more often than I even had working with the Brokers. After the altercation with Andrea Ramos at school when I’d first arrived, it wasn’t like I was on the best of terms at Grant City High, either. In fact, with all the vigilante-ing I’d been doing, my grades were worse than they’d ever been.
The cherry on top of this why-I-had-to-leave-Grant-City sundae, however, was the fact that Grant City as a whole was probably safer without me. The Scarecrow had been proof enough of that. The crazed Warlock would never have even come here if not for me, and the child he’d killed as a result of this would weigh on my conscience for the rest of my days.
Nick had been right. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t one of these people, and as I sat at The Grind by myself on New Year’s morning, having a cup of coffee paid for with the last of my meager flower shop earnings, it was as if the Universe were confirming all my thoughts.
As usual, the news was playing on the many flat screens hanging about the place, and my favorite reporter was standing front and center. The volume was not on, but I followed along with the subtitles scrolling at the bottom of the screen.
Miss Gail Golden was interviewing citizens of Grant City, obtaining their opinions concerning the Masked Maiden.
“I just hope she’s caught soon,” said an older lady with terrible makeup.
“Just let her get herself killed, I say. Sooner or later karma works things out, ya know?” answered a young man with a blue ball cap.
“It’s those violent video games,” said a mother with three little boys squirming around her legs. “Violence and law-breaking are the norm.”
Next, a man with a cane commented, “What’s this city coming to? No one has any respect for the law.”
I pulled my eyes away from the screen, stood, and tossed my coffee cup in the trashcan.
I needed to go say goodbye to Sam.
***
Standing on the stoop of her apartment building, I raised my hand to press the buzzer for what felt like the millionth time, and then dropped it again.
I couldn’t do this. I was going to have to take the coward’s way out and write her a letter. She’d be angry and upset at first, but surely she would understand. That was the thing about Sam; she always could be counted on to understand.
Turning on my heels, I nearly ran smack-dab into someone standing behind me. With a jolt, I realized it was Sam’s father, Phillip Shy. It took me a moment to recognize him. I hadn’t seen him since the dinner on Christmas Eve, and he looked shockingly different than he had then.
He’d shaved his face and trimmed his light brown hair. He was wearing a shirt that wasn’t stained, tucked into ironed khakis and sealed off with a new belt. Groceries were in his arms, but inside the bags my ears didn’t pick up the clink of beer cans or the click of liquor bottles. It was the first time I’d seen him when his eyes were not bloodshot, and the scent of alcohol didn’t linger on his breath.
“Aria,” he said in greeting, as I just stood there like a genius staring.
I cleared my throat. “How’s it going, Mr. Shy?”
Sam’s father smiled; another first from him. “It’s going well,” he said, shifting the groceries in his hands. Like every other person on the planet, he’d loaded himself up with infinity bags so that he wouldn’t have to take a second trip. “You coming up?” he asked.
In answer, I took half the bags and held the door for him. There was no running away from this. It had to be done.
But that didn’t stop my heart from aching as we made our way up to the apartment, and were greeted by a grinning Sam once inside.
“I didn’t know you were stopping by,” she said as we put the groceries away.
I let out a breath, biting my lip. “Well, surprise.”
Sam laughed, but sobered as she took in whatever expression was on my face. We were alone in the kitchen now, her father having left again to retrieve the mail, which we’d forgotten on the way up.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“I’m going back,” I said, forcing the words out before they could jam up in my throat.
There was a moment of silence where one could hear a pin drop, or a heart break.
“Going back where?” Sam asked, though we both knew the answer.
“Back to the Brokers. I’ve been reinstated.”
I braced myself for an explosion that didn’t come. For what felt like an eternity, Samantha Shy just stared at me. I shifted on my feet, thinking I could melt under that gaze.
“Why?” she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. Her brows were knitted tightly, her blue eyes intense behind the frames.
It took me longer than it should have to answer. “I don’t belong here,” I said. “I never did, and besides, the whole city hates me, anyway.”
Now the explosion came. “That’s bullshit,” Sam snapped.
I looked down at my shoes, then back up at her. “You know it’s not. Two detectives came to see me yesterday, Sam. They were asking about the Masked Maiden.”
“They can’t prove anything,” Sam retorted, though her aura told me that the seriousness of this was not lost on her. She slammed her little hand into the palm of her fist. “I’m going to kick Andrea’s ass! That stupid bitch snitched on you!”
Samantha Shy’s fury usually amused me to some degree, but there was nothing funny about this. In fact, the tension in the small kitchen felt thick enough to slice.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Andrea doesn’t matter, and you know that. The point is it’s not safe here for me, Sam, and whether you accept it or not, Grant City doesn’t want me. The truth is, it’s better off without me.” I paused, the words feeling heavy in my throat. “This isn’t my home. It was never my home.”
Now there was real anger mixed with the sadness and alarm flooding through my friend. Sam threw her hands up in the air. “And how would you know?” she snapped. “You’ve never had a home, Aria, so how the hell would you know?”
These words hit me like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut, and I had to suck in two sharp breaths before I could calm myself. I’d told myself I would not cry. Crying would only make this harder.
I found myself repeating Caleb’s statement back to her, my voice bre
aking on the last syllables. “I just know,” I said. “Sam, I just know.”
With this, the floodgates opened, just as I’d known they would. Tears sprang from Sam’s eyes and the lenses her glasses fogged up like warm windows on a cold day. For a fraction of a moment, I thought Samantha Shy just might slap me, and would not have stopped her had she tried. Instead, she only came forward and wrapped her arms around me. She rested her strawberry-blonde head on my shoulder, squeezing me with impressive strength for such a small thing.
Holding her this way, she was not privy to the tears that escaped my own eyes, and I was sure to brush them away quickly. Sam was crying enough for the both of us, anyway.
I just know, I’d told her, the words echoing in my head. Sam, I just know.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered as she held me tight and allowed me my goodbye. “I don’t believe you at all, and the city is not better off without you.” Sam pulled back and met my eyes, her face firm despite the tears. “Run if you want, Aria Fae, but don’t pretend it’s home you’re running to. Don’t pretend it’s the right thing to do.”
CHAPTER 55
I stumbled out of Sam’s apartment building a moment later, my breath hitching in my chest as I fought tears the way Hercules fought river monsters. My throat felt tight enough to choke, and an ache had formed in my chest that I wasn’t sure would ever fully go away.
“You okay?” said a familiar voice behind me, and I turned to see Sam’s father standing beside the stoop in front of a row of mailboxes, holding a stack of letters. For the first time since I’d met him, I could see a few of the features he’d passed down to his daughter.
Forcing some semblance of a smile to my face, I said, “I’ve been better, sir.”
Mr. Shy gave a nod, shuffling some of the papers in his hands. I was just getting ready to bid him goodbye and make my retreat when he cleared his throat and met my gaze.
