“I don’t mind ice skating,” he says. Ryan’s voice has just a hint of an emotion that I can’t place.
“I’ll pick you up at eight thirty.”
* * * *
“What is ice skating?” Darklily tips her head at me, eyes inquisitive.
“It’s gliding around on ice,” I answer as I nervously throw on some warmer clothes.
The doorbell rings. I open the door to my room and step out.
“Wait! What about—”
“Your planet. I know. I will go with you.”
Dark’s tail flicks happily. “We leave in the morning.”
“So soon? What if I’m not ready to go then?” I ask anxiously.
Dark’s eyes flash impatiently. “Lissa you’ve had days to make up your mind.”
“I know! But, looking at this from my perspective, I’m leaving my home. I also just lost my parents—I need a little time to breathe.”
She looks away. The doorbell rings again. I bite my lip. I go over to Darklily and crouch in front of her. I gently touch her shoulder. Dark’s fur is thick and velvety.
“I said I will go and I will. I will be ready to leave in the morning,” I say with enthusiasm I don’t entirely feel.
“I hope so,” she says.
There’s a knock at the front door.
I look toward the hallway. The butterflies in my stomach pull me toward the door but it feels rude to just leave.
“I’ll see you later,” I say. Dark springs onto my bed and I clomp down the stairs. Feeling torn, I ruffle the hair behind my ear. Ryan knocks again. I open the door to Ryan wearing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ryan if you’d rather go bowling that’s fine.”
It looks like he’s going to take me up on my offer but doesn’t. “No.”
* * * *
The ice is smooth beneath my blade and I glide effortlessly across the whiteness. I turn around to Ryan. He’s standing in the doorway watching me.
“Come on,” I encourage.
Ryan eyes the ice warily then takes a hesitant step on. He instantly slips, but catches himself. When he’s steadied he takes another step, a determined look on his face. Ryan takes two more strides then slips again, grunting as he falls onto the ice.
“I can’t skate.” He sits up. Ryan says it nonchalantly but I can tell he wants to know how to skate. I glide over and stick out a hand to help him up. A jolt of feeling ricochets through me when his hand slides into mine. I carefully shuffle the feeling away so my voice remains carefree, not strained with emotion.
“Everyone starts the same way.” I go in front of him. “Look.” I lift my skate and move it at an angle. “That’s a stroke. Ice skating is much like roller skating.”
Ryan does his best to copy me but it looks like part step part stroke.
“Not bad.”
“You’re just saying that,” Ryan says.
I smile. “No. You’re doing fine.”
He tries again and goes down. I smother a laugh and extend my hand to help him up. Another bolt of electricity goes up my arm, ending with a tingly sensation running through me.
He tries again. One of Ryan’s legs goes to the side the other slips backwards, almost taking me down with him, but I grab the wall and stiffen my legs. He clutches my hand tighter as he gathers his feet under him. I can’t stifle my laugh this time. Ryan gives me his crooked smile and sounding a little breathless says, “This is harder than it looks.”
“Just relax,” I say. We move a few inches before I say, “Most people think it’ll be a cinch. Then they actually get on the ice.” Several minutes later I tease, “Did you expect to be a prodigy or something?”
“Yeah. I ace everything I do.” Ryan slips and falls, again almost taking me down with him.
“Right.”
“Just help me up,” he mutters.
Fifteen minutes and seven falls later, yes I kept track, and Ryan is doing much better. “You skate really well.”
“I had classes when I was younger,” I answer simply.
“Do you come here often?”
“I haven’t been skating in years.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“It’s like riding a bike. You don’t really forget.”
“How come you stopped?”
I gaze into his eyes, which suddenly seem to be deeper than the sky and a shade darker than light brown. I wonder what his eyes have seen, what secrets they hold.
I look away. Do I really want to tell him why? It would lead to other questions and I’d end up telling him about my life. But I want to tell someone for once. I always hold everything in. Preferring not to speak because even though reading people isn’t very hard, you never know what they’re really going to do, or how they're going to take your words; on the inside or outside. But with Ryan I feel like I can tell him anything—even the craziest things—and he will at least try to understand.
So I pour my heart out to him. I have no idea where to begin, so I start where I felt it began: with my horse jumping competition. I tell him that I lost and for Mom that was unacceptable. After that she acted as if I didn’t even exist. After a few years I got used to it and I was fine because I had my dad. But then he too left me, locking down and residing in his head.
“But it's not Dad’s fault. It's mine. I should’ve seen how depressed he was getting. I should’ve done something to help him,” my voice cracks and I quickly shove my hands into my pockets, digging my nails deep into my palm to try and keep the sadness at bay.
“Whoever said that bad things come in three’s was clearly mislead,” I try to joke but my voice falters.
I look at Ryan’s solemn face and duck my head. That was probably more of an answer than he wanted. I misjudged. “Sorry. That was more than you expected.”
“No. It sounds like you needed to get that off your chest.”
I give him a faint smile. “I did. Thank you. For listening.”
“Hey,” Ryan moves closer to me, “you’re my friend. I’ll always be listening.” Warmth floods through me. Friend. I want it to be so much more but this is more than I’ve ever had and I’ll take whatever he gives me.
“You’re not holding the wall.” I point out.
“Told you I was a prodigy.”
“Then I guess everyone is. Ice skating is actually not a very difficult skill to master.”
“You could’ve just let me have that one.”
I bite back a giggle but it comes out anyway. “Never.”
Ryan makes a growling sound and attempts to chase me but ends up with legs flailing and ice beneath him.
“Nice try.”
Ryan makes a face at me then it breaks into a smile. He holds his hand out and I yank him up.
* * * *
Ryan turns the car off. We sit in darkness, as does the house.
“Are your parents home?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
I instantly feel my guard go up. Ryan is really nice, but Dad told me to be careful. “They’ll be home soon,” I say, my voice closed but not rude. He straightens at my tone.
“I didn’t mean anything,” he says. I still eye him, weighing how truthful his words are.
“Can I ask you something? And if it’s too much just say so,” Ryan says hesitantly, nervously. I don’t answer right away. What’s the worst thing he could ask? “What is it?”
“Is it all right if I stay here tonight? Like on the couch or something?” he adds quickly seeing my surprise.
“Can I ask why?”
Ryan’s hands tighten and untighten on the steering wheel. “I have nowhere else to go. Right now.” I can’t keep the shock from showing on my face. He has nowhere to go? What does that mean? Besides the obvious.
“Sure. Yes, you can stay on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Ryan lets out a relieved breath. We get out of the truck and head inside. Instantly I remember Darklily as I flip on the downstairs lights. I fight back
a wave of anxiety. Without thinking it through I decide to tell him.
“Ryan can I tell you something unbelievable?” Ryan grunts a yes then sits on the couch. I do too. Putting a foot between us.
“This is going to sound crazy.” He shrugs and gazes at me intently. “I was in the woods some time ago and this cat spoke to me,” I rush the last words out.
Ryan’s face remains carefully neutral. I decide to rush through without giving a bunch of details. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway; at least someone will know I’m gone.
“She told me that her world is in trouble and she’s been searching for the person who can help. Darklily, the cat from the woods, is convinced I’m the one to help them—her. Tomorrow she’s taking me there—to her planet. I’m going to help her,” I say trying to convince myself more than him.
Ryan’s brow furrows with indecision. “You were in the woods and a cat started talking to you.” Ryan looks to me for conformation. I nod. “She’s taking you where exactly?”
“Somewhere called Pandorma. Look I know I sound crazy, but I’m telling the truth.” I close my eyes. It’d be just perfect if she were to be gone now when I need her to be here to prove that I’m not crazy.
“She should be upstairs right now. Stay here.”
I run up the stairs and stand in the doorway. I flip on the light switch and whisper, “Dark, can you come downstairs for a minute. Pretty please?”
I walk over to the mass of sleek black fur attached to a body almost too long to fit on my bed. Dark’s head is below the pillow next to mine, her head twisted upside-down. Her eyes are closed, her breathing feather light. I take in the sheer size of this cat and awe works its way around me—no matter how many times I’ve seen her. I’m guessing she’s about the size of a tiger but she’s not one. Again I find myself questioning whether or not Pandorma is really another planet. Everything inside me defiantly says no, but Darklily herself could be proof, because there’s not a cat on Earth that looks like her.
“You have a nice room.”
I spin around. I hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs. Ryan stands in the doorway, eyes roving around my room. My room is nothing magnificent.
My bed is in the back corner and has a dark blue and white moon-and-hearts comforter set. Four shelves creating a sort of stepladder down the wall are my bookshelf. A long plaster white dresser is next to my bed on the other side. My Gourami’s tank is at the far end.
The carpet is dark blue, the curtains covering the large window a thick white. A nice ceiling fan hangs in the middle, lighting up my room with a soft white glow.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes. If you don’t freak out.”
Ryan gives me a puzzled look. I lean down to Darklily and whisper her name into her ear. Dark paws her ear but doesn’t wake. I whisper again, adding, “get up.” This time she blinks up at me. I scoot to the side so she can see Ryan. Darklily doesn’t move so she stares at Ryan through upside-down eyes.
“Ryan, Darklily. Darklily, Ryan.” They just stare at each other until Dark stands and shakes.
“Is this who you went skating on the ice with?” She sits down, the bed creaking and folding beneath her weight.
“Yep.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ryan says in shock. Relieved, I gesture for him to come closer. He does, cautiously. Ryan stares Darklily up and down. She towers over us.
“Well at least he isn’t screaming.”
Embarrassment burns inside me. “He wasn’t jumped. I was.” Dark purrs.
“This is . . . incredible. She’s real?” Ryan stutters.
“Yes, she is real. And I’m right in front of you so don’t act like I’m not,” Dark says.
“See? I’m not crazy.”
Ryan runs a hand through his hair, tousling it. “No, you’re not crazy, but this is . . . weird.”
“I had trouble believing it at first too,” I say, starting to get excited. Finally someone else knows. Someone who believes me that is.
“How are you talking?” Ryan asks Dark.
Dark just rolls her eyes at him and hops off the bed. “I’ve already been through this with Lissa. Why is it so unbelievable that I can talk?”
“Because animals don’t talk,” he answers, still in awe.
“I’ve heard that one before.” Dark sets to grooming her fur. Carefully licking her pelt before starting on her face.
Thirty questions later and a thorough inspection of my room—with permission of course—Ryan is watching my fish swim around their tank.
“I say the red one should be named Bob,” he says suddenly.
I laugh. “Bob?”
“Yeah.”
“Why exactly?” I hadn’t named my fish. It had only ever occurred to me once that I should give them names. But I didn’t. I’m sitting on the floor, reading a list of songs Ryan had rattled off to me—songs he swore were the best—, but now I get up and kneel beside him.
“The name fits.”
“I don’t think fish are meant to have names.”
“Why not? We name our dogs.”
I tilt my head slightly, thinking. These guys are the only pets I’d ever had. When I watch them swim around I think of them as a collective beauty. I know they're also individuals but together they make the tank beautiful.
“Because you don’t call fish they just stay in the tank. But if you want him to be named Bob that’s fine with me.”
Ryan snorts. “Can I feed them?”
I nod then open the green box filled with fish supplied and take out the flakes. Unscrewing the lid I take a pinch of food. “Only take about this much and wait for them to eat everything before putting more in.” I sprinkle the flakes on top then lean sideways so I can see the clock. 9:47.
“Only feed them as much as they can eat in three minutes so they don’t over eat.”
“Kay,” Ryan says.
I watch Ryan take a pinch of food and drop it in. When the first bit of food is gone he drops in more.
Since Ryan is staring intently at my fish, I risk studying him more carefully. His face is less than a foot from mine; our arms are teasingly close. I take in Ryan’s cheeks, his lips; his forehead, strands of hair just begging to be brushed away. I think back to every time his eyes had locked with mine and I’d gotten a peak into his heart.
A little boy who didn’t get to live like one. A subtle reflection of myself. A kid who had been dealt a tough hand and was forced to either grow up and deal with it or break down and give up, letting life toss you into whatever corner it can find to most likely be forgotten.
Ryan is grown up, responsible, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things, heard things. Whatever troubles Ryan’s been put through he’s not only lived through them, but overcome them to some degree. And Ryan is a stronger, better person because of it. There is an understanding to his eyes that only comes from years of experience.
I realize that I know nothing about his family and it makes curiosity prickle my skin. Ryan glances at the clock.
“Time’s up,” he says, screwing on the lid.
Like scissors snapping off a rose from its bush, the connection is broken and I’m released back into my own mind. I blink a few times and look away.
Ryan looks at me. I think he’s going to say something but our eyes meet and he stops. Ryan swallows. The air seems to zap with invisible energy.
I wonder what he sees in me. Did I have the same wisdom about me that I could see in him? Or did I just look like a childish girl who has seen only a clean world and not the troubles and hardships life can bring and bestow on people, breaking those weak enough to succumb to them.
I look in the mirror every morning after my shower. There is nothing special about me . . . he couldn’t possibly see something I don’t. Ryan slowly leans forward and my heart speeds up. Darklily loudly clears her throat.
“I’m hungry. Lissa if you could let me outside I’d really appreciate it,” Dark says.
I’m going to get tha
t cat. “Sure, Dark,” I answer tightly.
I open one of the back doors then shut it behind us. I glare at Dark. “What did you do that for?” I hiss. “You couldn’t have let yourself out?”
“I was doing you a favor,” Dark says simply.
“Favor?”
Darklily nods. “Males aren’t worth it. You’ll see, I’m trying to spare you the pain.”
“They’re my lips, I think I can decide if he’s worth it or not!”
“You weren’t deciding. You were feeling.” Dark twitches an ear and walks into the night. My darker side considers shoving her, but I close the door and stand in front of it, letting my anger and the after effect of the previous moment dissipate. I had been so close to getting my first kiss. I’m not sure if I feel elated or—I hate to admit it—nervous. Dark had ruined it though. On purpose. And that made me angry no matter how confused I am about how I feel. Now the moment is gone. I give myself a shake and head back upstairs.
Ryan is staring out the window, his gaze focused on something only he can see. He jumps when I come in.
“Do you have any paper and pencils or pens?” Ryan asks, his voice somewhat unsteady.
“Yeah.” I go to my shelf and open a black box. I hand him a pad of paper and a tin box of pencils. Ryan’s eyes widen a bit after he takes off the lid.
“I can’t use these.”
“Why not?”
“These are really good drawing pencils,” Ryan says, his voice verging on anticipation though he’s trying to hide it.
“I hardly ever use them so it’s fine.”
Ryan doesn’t need anymore convincing. He eagerly takes them then lies down on the floor, spreading the paper in front of him. He’s dead still for a moment then starts making gentle lines. I go to my bookshelf and pull out Black Beauty, just opening it to a random page. I lean against my bed, opposite Ryan. His eyes are glued to the paper. I try to concentrate on the words, but my mind won’t settle. I feel like I have to talk to him. Ask him things. Get his opinion and perspective on everything. I feel like if I don’t take the opportunity now I won’t get another.
Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1) Page 8
