by C.K. Bryant
Chapter Twenty
Since the next day was Memorial Day and there was no school, Kira sent a message to Lydia who agreed to meet her at the park. Their plan was to have a normal girl’s day out, with no talk of magic or other worlds. Lydia offered to pick her up, but Kira wanted the exercise and decided to walk instead. Plus, she needed to clear her head.
When she got to the park, Lydia wasn’t there yet. Kira decided to find some shade and relax while she waited. She’d just sat down on a bench when she heard the squeal of brakes and a child’s scream. Instinct kicked in and before Kira processed what she was doing, she’d made her way to where a crowd had formed. Pushing her way through, she saw a young woman holding a little girl, her eyes overflowing with tears.
“Save him, Mommy,” she cried.
Kira looked to the pavement to find a little white dog and it didn’t appear to be breathing.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. He just came out of nowhere,” a man said as he bent to pick the dog up from the ground.
Kira pushed her way forward and knelt down to take the dog from him. “Sir, let me see him.” She just wanted to make sure it wasn’t dead, she told herself, but all she could think about was how upset the child was, and how Octavion would approve of her healing it. After all, he loved animals. He wouldn’t want one to suffer.
The man handed Kira the limp pup.
Kira knew instantly that the dog wasn’t breathing, but she felt a faint heartbeat. As with her broken arm, she concentrated on the injuries and found that she actually saw them in her mind. He had a broken hip and some internal bleeding.
“Can you save him?” the girl asked, big tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.
I can heal him, Kira thought. “I think he just got the wind knocked out of him,” she lied. She tried to be inconspicuous by stroking his side. She closed her eyes and focused on healing him. A prickly sensation ran down her arm and into her hand, making her pull away. The tips of her fingers tingled. Instantly, the dog took a breath and the crowd gasped in unison.
“He’s alive,” she heard a man say from behind her.
With one more stroke of her hand, the fluffy little creature sprang from Kira’s arms and ran to its owner.
“Fuzzy!” the little girl cried, taking her friend into her arms and hugging it tight.
The crowd cheered.
“Thank you,” the mother said.
Kira shrugged. “He was just winded.”
That felt good. Kira stood and watched for a moment as the crowd began to dissipate, but when she turned around, a young boy stood in front of her holding a cell phone up as if taking pictures. What have I done? The thought no sooner left her mind when a strong hand pulled her up onto the curb.
“What did you do?” Lydia asked, panic in her voice.
“I’m sorry. The little girl was crying and—”
“You promised.” Lydia pulled her across the grass and behind a tree where they had more privacy. “Did anyone see you? Did you hear anyone say it was a miracle or anything like that?”
“No.” She didn’t dare tell her about the cell phone. Lydia would freak. “Do you have to tell Octavion?”
Lydia let out a huff of air. “I don’t think he needs anything else to worry about.” But then she closed in on Kira so that their faces were mere inches apart. “You can’t do this again. You understand that, right?”
“Never again. I promise.” Kira reached up and tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear, putting the Crystor in Lydia’s view.
Lydia grabbed Kira’s wrist and pulled it closer to her face. “What’s this?”
Kira had taken a heart charm off an old necklace earlier that morning and attached it to the bracelet to make it look more feminine. “It’s just a charm. I thought it looked good on there.”
Lydia let go of Kira’s hand and leaned back against the tree. “Oh, Kira. Octavion said you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“When he explained what happened the night I was hurt, he said you couldn’t see it at first. That means it’s probably invisible to those from your world.”
“What?” Kira had completely forgotten about that. So much happened that first night, none of it seemed real. How was she supposed to remember such a small detail? She grabbed the charm and unhooked it. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I forgot.”
“Hopefully no one noticed, because all they would see is a charm hanging in midair, attached to nothing.”
“What will happen if someone noticed?”
Lydia didn’t answer, but Kira knew by the deep furrow in her brow that she was worried. “I’m sorry, Kira. I might have to tell him now. He’ll want to know.”
Kira’s heart sank. “I understand.”
Neither one of them felt much like chatting, so Lydia took her home. Kira spent the rest of the day going through the pictures. When she got to those Lydia had taken of the box canyon, she systematically erased them—one by one—except when the last picture came into view. It was the one of Octavion and Kira on the horse. She hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should go against his wishes. But then, who would know? She performed a few editing tricks to her flyaway hair and cropped the edges of the photo. When it came out of the printer, it was perfect—if nothing else, she had one thing to remind her all this was real.
She took the photo to her closet. On the top shelf she kept a box for old photos and keepsakes. She pulled it down, placed the photo on top of the pile, and replaced the box. For a split second she considered reaching for the box and destroying the photo, but then she stopped herself. It was just one photo. What could it hurt?
