by Raye Wagner
He chuckled. “You don’t even know how to use that, Sphinx.”
Her stomach churned. She couldn’t deny it. “Don’t come any closer, or you’ll find out how well I use it.”
He stepped back and put his hands up, but the leer plastered on his face showed no fear.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said.
“Then what do you want?” Her eyes darted to the shadows, then back to him.
“To gather information for my master.” His laugh was a dry wheeze. “The gods are all astir . . . Because of you.”
A door slammed, and someone cursed.
“Be careful, Sphinx. Your curse will not protect you from . . . everything.”
Hope turned to see a man in cutoff jeans and a dirty tank top coming off his dilapidated front porch. “Who’s there?” He slurred the words.
Hope turned back to the Skia but he was gone. Hope said nothing as she slunk past the man dragging his garbage can to the curb.
What did it say that she was more afraid of the drunk man than the Skia?
She got inside her house and locked the door behind her, once again grateful for the protection of Hecate.
She showered and dressed in pajamas. She ate the rest of the steak she’d grilled earlier, then started on her last bit of homework.
In black marker she outlined the endothermic reaction of citric acid and baking soda on the bright-pink poster board.
Her phone buzzed, then rang.
Finally. She tapped Accept and brought it to her ear.
“Hey, are you done with your chemistry poster, yet?” Hope asked.
A man chuckled. “I had no idea you’d be so young.”
Her stomach dropped. “Who is this?” She held the phone out and looked at the screen. No. No, no, no!
“We know what you are . . . Sphinx.” He hissed the last word, as if a curse.
She clenched the phone, her knuckles turning white. “Who are you?” She pushed the words out in an anxious whisper. “Where’s Priska?”
“We will destroy you. And we will send you to Hades.”
“WHERE’S PRISKA?”
The man laughed.
Her hand shook, and she tapped End over and over and over. Could they trace a cell phone?
Her phone rang again. And again. And again.
What could she do?
Thud, thud, thud.
Hope screamed.
“Hope?” Haley’s voice came through the door. “I know you’re home!”
Hope undid the deadbolt, then pulled open the door.
“So, did I see you run by Sal’s earlier?” Haley pushed past, closing the door behind her. “I thought I saw you.” She stopped at the kitchen table. “And how much more homework do you have? I wanted to go to Portland tonight, but we’ll never make it back by ten. Maybe we could go to Yakima. I’m dying to go shopping.” She turned and looked at Hope. “Holy Hades, what happened to you? Was . . . Was that you screaming?”
Hope couldn’t stop the tremor, and she nodded. “Yeah. I . . . just . . . uh . . . Remember those prank calls I was getting? Well, they’ve been calling, again. So . . . I need to get a new phone.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting the new iPhone.” Haley’s shoulders sagged, then she straightened. “Wait, did you say those guys are calling again? Oh. My. Gods. For real?”
Hope nodded. “Do you know if you can trace where a phone is? Like the physical location?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She frowned. “We can ask at the store. And if they can, we’ll just dump it in the river. Are you all right?”
Hope nodded and grabbed her coat. “Yeah. Let’s go. Now.”
Hope locked the door while Haley went out to get the car started. As she turned, she saw the short Skia standing in the shadow of a tree. He nodded once and faded away.
Her heart couldn’t take anymore.
She ran to the car.
ATHAN HAD NEVER called back. She lay in bed and thought about their date two days ago. It seemed like forever. And that moment at the door? She was sure he was going to kiss her. But then, why didn’t he?
She kicked off the covers.
A couple hours later, she pulled into the back parking lot of the school. Her phone buzzed, then rang, and after checking the screen, she answered it with a frown.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Melody at Mr. Davenport’s office, will you please hold for Mr. Davenport?”
Hope rolled her eyes. She’d called him not even twenty minutes ago with her new phone number. “Of course.”
The sounds of classical music filled her ear, and then: “Hope?”
“You called me, Mr. Davenport.”
He laughed. “So I did. How are you holding up?”
She told him about Mr. Jeffers and her worry about getting in trouble with the truancy board, and her emancipation being threatened. “I need to change again in two days, and . . . I just don’t think I could go back into foster care,” she said.
“I won’t let that happen. If he files a truancy order, just forward it to me.”
She nodded. “Okay. Have you found anything? About Priska?” Hope asked.
Mr. Davenport sighed. “No. That’s partly why I’m calling. Priska was the trustee over your assets. With her . . . disappearance, I’ve got to redraft the trust. I think the easiest thing to do is make you the trustee, now that you’re emancipated.”
“What does that mean?”
He explained in great detail that she would have sole discretion over her money. “Just like it’s been, except this will make it official.”
“So what do I need to do?
He chuckled. “Just come sign a bunch of papers, or I could mail them, or even email them.”
“No. I’ll just come over. At least this way, I’ll have an excuse to be gone.” She thought about how she could tell her teachers she had a meeting with her attorney. That was a good reason to be absent, right?”
“Hello?” Mr. Davenport said.
“Sorry, sorry. I was looking at the calendar. Could I come on Friday? Nine o’clock-ish?”
“Sure. That would fine. See you then.” He disconnected the call, and Hope let her arm fall. Now she would need to talk to her teachers and get the makeup work.
She looked around the parking lot. Where was Athan?
She spent the day going through her normal routine. Athan never showed up.
“WHAT THE HADES, Hope!” Haley slammed Hope’s locker shut. The last bell had rung, and Hope was trying to collect her homework. “You can’t go and hook up over the weekend and not tell me. I mean, we were out all last night, and you said nothing about your date.” Haley air-quoted the word date.
Hope rolled her eyes and started her combination. “We didn’t hook up,” she grumbled.
“What?”
“I said, we didn’t hook up.” Hope glared at her friend.
Haley’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure, because I heard—”
“For real? Like I wouldn’t know?” It was so frustrating. Athan hadn’t even called since . . . Hope pursed her lips, the epiphany breaking slowly. She wanted Athan to like her. Oh. Gods.
“Whoa. You’re totally right. You would know. Sorry.”
Hope leaned back. “No. I just . . .” This was so much worse than breaking a taboo on friendship. “Where were you this morning?”
“What? What happened? Did Krista tell you that she and Athan . . .” Haley waved her arms together and apart, then shook her head. “Okay. She’s psycho. I’m going to have to talk with Tristan. Because I seriously can’t be around that harpy anymore. It was. Disgusting.” She batted her eyes at rubbed up on Hope. “Oh, Athan, you big, strong man, let me sit on your lap, and lick your face. I just want to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Oh, yum, yum.” She licked Hope’s face.
“Oh, gross!” Hope pulled away.
Haley started laughing. “It was sick.”
Tristan walked up to them. “How come you don’t d
o that to me?” he asked with a chuckle.
“You like that?” Haley pursed her lips and inched away from him.
“Ah, no,” he said with a snort, then turned to Hope. “Was she telling you about Saturday?”
Hope nodded.
Tristan tilted his head toward her and whispered, “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Before Hope could correct him, or question him, he straightened. “Come on Haley, let’s go get something to eat.”
Haley left with a wave.
It took Hope a few more minutes to gather her thoughts and her books.
She drove to the Red Apple after school. She was relieved to see Mr. Stanley behind the meat counter weighing hamburger.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment, Hope,” Mr. Stanley greeted her with his usual warmth.
She nodded.
Mr. Stanley finished wrapping a man’s dinner, and then turned to her.
“How are you? It’s been a few days.” He acknowledged her absence in a way that made her feel missed, not guilty.
“Yeah.” She deliberated for only a second. “I’ve been hanging out with Mrs. Stephens’s nephew, Athan.”
Mr. Stanley nodded. “Is he nice?”
She found herself telling Mr. Stanley almost everything; starting at the Red Apple the previous Friday up to the dinner last night. She edited out the attack in the Dalles and the almost kiss.
They were interrupted several times by customers, but the tale seemed to hold his interest, and so Hope continued talking. When she finished she looked up at the butcher, standing still in contemplation.
When it was clear she was finished, he said, “Well, you’ve had a lot going on.” He didn’t offer advice, nor did he pry.
Talking made her feel better. She thanked him.
“Sure, anytime. I’ve got three daughters, and even though two of them aren’t home anymore, I still hear about their days plenty.” He paused momentarily. “Hey, I found a great riddle online. Do you want to hear it?”
She nodded.
“Okay, here it is. I make you weak at the worst of all times. I keep you safe, I keep you fine. I make your hands sweat and your heart grow cold. I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. What am I?”
She thought about the riddle for a few minutes. It seemed vaguely familiar. Then she remembered. It was one her mom told her a couple years ago after an especially bad day at school.
“Fear,” she answered confidently.
Mr. Stanley nodded. “Yep. Boy, that one threw me. How is it that you are so good at riddles?”
Her smile was wistful and brief. “It’s in my blood. My mom and grandmother studied them for years. In fact, one of my grandmother’s passions was riddles.”
“Excuse me.” An older woman looked from Hope to Mr. Stanley tentatively. “Can I get some pork chops?”
“I’ll let you go.” She waved as she turned to leave.
“Bye, Hope,” he called after her before turning to the shopper.
She got home and sat at the kitchen table doing homework for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. She ate leftovers and finished her work. She was restless after sitting for so long. A short run was just what she needed. The night was brisk, but after the first mile the cool air felt delicious on her bare arms. She modified her loop, going up and down side streets to increase the distance of the run.
Which was the only reason she ran into him.
He was walking past the community hospital, dressed in jeans and a pale-blue T-shirt. The light shirt was a beacon in the dark night.
As if on cue, he turned.
That can’t be . . . There were worry lines that didn’t seem to fit his face, his shadowed features told of sleeplessness, and instead of his normal teasing smirk, his lips were drawn.
As she drew closer, she could see the lines fade as if shadows.
“Athan?”
“Hope.” He said her name as though it was a life raft. His eyes met hers hungrily. His shuffling turned to a determined stride, and he closed the gap, but he stopped just short of her.
“Are you all right?” Her concern was a presence between them.
“Oh. Yeah.” He sighed, sounding defeated. “There was a lot I needed to sort out, and it all hit me today.”
She nodded. The first couple of months after her mother died had passed in a fog of despair. Maybe it was the same for him. “Is it about your mom?” she asked.
“Oh, no. No. My mom . . .” He sighed again. “I haven’t been totally honest. My mom passed away a while ago. I’ve been living with extended family for years. But, when I move . . . It’s easier than trying to explain my family situation.”
As she listened, she found herself nodding. His quick adjustment hadn’t been so quick. “But then, what is wrong?”
“Actually,” he continued, “I was thinking about change.”
“About change?”
“Have you ever,” he started and broke off. A deep breath. He met her gaze. “Have you ever felt so comfortable, and then your world turned upside down? I knew what my responsibilities were, what was important, and how to accomplish what needed to be done . . .”
“Like, you thought you had all the answers, only to find out you didn’t even know what the questions were?”
“Exactly.” He practically simmered with emotion.
“That first month after my mom died,” she started softly, her voice just above a whisper. “I pretty much sat in my room. I felt bewildered. Then I got angry. When I finally grasped that it was just me, I started moving, thinking, doing again.”
She thought of leaving Bellevue, living in foster care, and coming to Goldendale, the changes each had been painful. Even now, if she thought too much, the memories felt like picking off a scab before the cut was healed.
Hope took a deep breath, pulling her focus to the now. Because now didn’t hurt nearly so much.
“So what kind of change are you having a hard time with?” She brushed a sweaty strand of hair back from her face.
His brows pulled together in a look of perplexity. “It’s. . . What I thought was important doesn’t seem to be so important anymore.”
What did he mean? He wasn’t talking about her, was he?
He glanced at her sweaty figure. “You were out for a run. May I walk with you?”
As they approached her house, they bumped shoulders. Hope laughed as he pretended to stagger from the impact. When he drew close again, his hand grazed hers and caught it.
When they were on the porch, Athan leaned against the wall, his gaze drilled into her.
“What?” She breathed.
Athan brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear, and then traced his fingers down her neck to her shoulder. He tilted his head and focused on her lips. “I want to kiss you, Hope.” He leaned in, his hand cupped the back of her neck, his fingers threading into her hair. His lips brushed her skin as he breathed in her ear. “And I want you to kiss me back.” His lips touched the hollow behind her ear, then traced a path across her jawbone.
The world stopped. Her heart exploded in a sensation that was wholly unfamiliar, but completely wonderful. A breathy sigh escaped her lips.
His breath was warm on her skin, and her lips parted to breathe him in. She wanted to say yes, wanted to tell him she wanted the same thing—for them to be together. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward in anticipation.
His arm circled her waist, his hand at the small of her back pulling her to him. His lips brushed hers lightly first, then with more pressure. His lips were soft and warm. The kiss tender and sweet.
Athan pulled away, and Hope was left off balance.
“Hmm.” He looked almost sleepy, but his smile was mischievous. “Again?”
“Please.” Her hands ran up his chest and to the back of his neck. Her fingers trailed into his silky hair. Their lips brushed again and again, and then more deeply.
When they broke apart, both were bre
athing heavy.
“What are your plans tomorrow?” His hands continued to trace the back of her neck, trail over her shoulders.
“School.” She blushed at her incoherence.
He chuckled, and his laughter radiated through her, bringing a smile to her lips.
“Then I’ll see you at school.”
“Okay.”
His lips touched hers again, skimming back and forth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His lips pressed hers briefly, then he released her, and stepped down to the walkway.
The hot shower felt great, and so did the coolness of her sheets, but all of this was lost. As she snuggled down under her blankets, she was giddy from the high, and her lips tingled with the bliss of her first kiss.
FOR THE FIRST time since her mother passed away, Hope felt excited. She alternately floated and buzzed through her morning routine. On the short drive to school, she envisioned what it would be like to have a friend—a boyfriend. The thought made her giggle.
She opened the door and walked into the crowd of students.
“Oops.” Someone bumped into her, hard. “Excuse me.”
Her smile froze and then faded, as she turned and looked down to Krista’s venomous face.
“I totally didn’t see you there. You just kinda blend. Almost like you’re invisible.” The girl’s lips curled into a sneer. She sauntered off, giggling, with her gaggle following behind.
Something ugly bubbled up inside Hope, but she shoved it down. Krista had nothing Hope wanted. Just because Athan went with her and Scott on Saturday night meant nothing. She had told him to go. And he had kissed her last night. That had to mean something.
She got to her locker and started to turn the dial, when she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, I forgot to ask you last night, where were you Sunday?” Athan drew close; his fingers separated a lock of her hair that he curled around his finger. “I called and called, but you never picked up.”
“Oh . . . yeah, sorry.” She pulled out the new phone in its bright pink case. “New phone. I texted you, though.” She frowned.
“New number, too?” He pulled out his phone. “Ouai. Sorry. I didn’t look.”
