When I finish my food, we step outside, just as dusk is setting in on the bustling street. Andy covers his mouth, trying to hide a yawn. “I think you need to go home and get some rest. I have to go and start prepping for my trip anyway,” I suggest.
“I guess I’m still kind of tired from that stomach bug,” he says, making a face. “Oh, and by the way, you know my mom is probably going to want to throw you a bon voyage dinner, right?”
“Sure, why not. It’ll be nice,” I tell him.
He hops on his skateboard and pushes off in one fluid motion. “Catch ya later,” he says, his voice drifting away. I watch him till he’s out of sight, and then head the opposite direction.
When I get home, the light is peeking from underneath the door of Mom’s studio. She must be in the middle of one of her all night painting sessions, which usually means it’s best not to disturb her. I go up to my bedroom, kick off my shoes, and grab my sketchbook before plopping down on my bed. The blank page stares at me from my lap as I take out my pencils, and close my eyes, trying to visualize my father’s face again. It comes to me clearly; my hands draw at a frenzied pace, quickly adding details as I remember them. After fifteen minutes, I stop and look down at my work, studying his face, satisfied that I’ve captured him even better than before. I write his name “Erik” on the corner underneath his likeness, and close the sketchbook, yawning while I set it aside. My pants slip off easily, and I toss them on the floor before curling up underneath my blanket, falling asleep almost immediately as my head finds the perfect spot on the mountain of pillows.
My subconscious goes from a fuzzy blackness to a vivid scene of my parents. It’s as if someone has turned on a TV and its screen flashes from darkness to a scene in the middle of a movie.
Mom is leaning on a kitchen counter, pressing oranges into juice. Her long hair falls down her back in thick, luxuriant waves. It looks like she’s just rolled out of bed with only her panties and a slightly wrinkled white man’s button down shirt. My father is wearing boxers and a plain white t-shirt. His body is more muscular than I had previously remembered, and his hair is overgrown, wavy, tousled from sleep. He’s frying eggs and placing them onto plates. They’re laughing, and making jokes at one another, though I can’t hear what they are saying, since the scene seems to be on mute. As they sit on the kitchen stools eating, they gaze into each other’s eyes, and it’s obvious that they are in love.
6
There is something disconcerting about dreaming someone else’s memories. But even though it gives me a strange feeling waking up to such realistic images, getting to know my father in some way gives me a little peace of mind. Once I gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed, I grab some clothes from the floor, get dressed and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
When I get downstairs, it’s peaceful and the sunlight is streaming in through the kitchen windows, casting glimmering reflections through the crystal prisms hanging by the sill. Mom must have stayed up all night again. I tiptoe my way around the kitchen, getting a small breakfast together. I chug my shot of tea, throw some waffles into the toaster, pour some juice, and sit. I gaze longingly out the window, and wonder how my parents could lead such normal lives despite the enormous secrets they kept hidden inside. How did they manage everything that an ordinary life entails, and juggle the extra challenges that were thrown at them without falling apart? Sometimes I struggle with the trivial small town problems put in front of me, and it makes me doubt that I’m really going to be able to manage all of this.
I wolf down my breakfast, anxious to go to my special place along the bay for a mid-morning swim. I head back to my room, and put on my silver one-piece swimsuit underneath faded denim shorts and a black tank top. I decide to leave the skateboard behind, so I slip on my flip-flops, and throw some stuff into my beach tote, including my sketchbook. It’s only a short walk downhill and through a cluster of trees before I reach the isolated pebbly beach. The majority of beachgoers seem to favor the wide sandy stretch further down shore, because of the accessible parking and proximity to the snack shacks. My secluded little oasis has shallow, calm waters with little fish hiding in between the boulders, and a variety of birds combing the shores for a quick meal or diving in the water for a larger catch. I lay my towel down on a sandy patch, and sit down cross-legged. I consider texting Andy to come join me, but change my mind at the last minute. Something about our exchange the night before makes me a bit uncomfortable, and staying away for now seems like a good idea.
The morning sun is already beating down on my shoulders, so I pull off my shorts and tank top to get some relief in the cool water. I wade into the shallows and climb onto one of the boulders, holding on to the ridges as I slowly make my way to the top. I hop from one boulder to another, until I reach the deep side, where I can jump without fear of hitting the sea floor. I dive into the glistening water and feel the bubbles tickling my limbs. As the force of gravity pitches me deeper, I go against instinct and open my eyes, expecting the salt water to sting. Instead, everything is crystal clear, almost as if I’m wearing a pair of brand new goggles. I reach the bottom, about ten or eleven feet deep, and see schools of silvery fish darting around the rocks. After a moment I realize that my body isn’t fighting to float up to the surface, and that oxygen seems to be circulating in my lungs, as if somehow, I’m able to breathe underwater. I touch my skin, and it feels different, like microscopic scales have invaded my pores. By now, my eyes have completely adjusted to the salt water, and when I explore my face with my hands, I find small slits behind my ears like the gills of a fish. My heart is pounding, but the beauty and serenity of the sea creates a calm within me.
I kick my legs, gliding among the fish, which are oblivious to my presence. My body feels graceful as I dodge the boulders, even with the relatively strong tide. I swim faster and faster, till I’m almost in the deepest part of the bay. My feet and hands are now flatter – more fin like, and I maneuver easily because of them. The water turns into a darker blue, and enormous schools of fish create tunnel like shapes that I weave in and out of. I see the underside of the fishing boats in the distance, and decide it would be wise to head back. Going against the tide is trickier, but my newly formed limbs allow me to swim towards shore with little difficulty. When I spot the giant boulders underwater, I glide past them to the other side, where the water is shallower. When I break the surface, my skin mutates with a mild tingling feeling. My hands and feet have suddenly gone back to normal and the gills behind my ears vanish as if they were never there. Even though I must have been underwater for at least twenty minutes, my skin is supple, the tips of my fingers never becoming raisin-like. I paddle to the beach, then walk across the pebbly sand, my limbs heavy and slightly wobbly outside of the water. When I get to my towel, I plop down, feeling slightly dazed and fatigued. I drink the contents of my water bottle in one go, and while drying in the sun, pluck my sketchbook out of my bag and begin drawing the underwater world, immortalizing the experience on paper.. My hands work deftly, and after several minutes finish a vivid reproduction of myself: half-fish, half-human gliding through a mosaic of silvery fish. As I admire my work, I realize my skin is turning pink, and pack-up my stuff into my tote bag.
On my way home, it dawns on me that I must be getting used to my new body, not to mention the powers that come along with it. Had this happened last week, I would have had a complete meltdown, yet somehow, I seem to be at peace with this new transformation in my life.
At home, Mom is out front tending the lush, slightly overgrown garden with a large floppy hat on her head. The side of her cheek is smudged with dirt, and when she sees me, she smiles brightly. “I guessed you were probably at the beach,” she says, looking at my wet hair.
“Geez, you must have some powerful psychic sixth sense or something.” I say sarcastically. She chuckles as she pulls out some stubborn weeds from the ground. I kneel next to her, the pungent smell of freshly upturned earth making me scrunch my nose. “Mom… Remember w
hen you told me that your special tea would keep accidental transformations from happening?”
“What now, Hazel?” she says looking alarmed.
“Don’t worry. I handled it fine and nobody even noticed.”
She removes her hat, so she can look me dead in the eye. “Nobody noticed what?”
I proceed to give her a summary, leaving out some incriminating details like my recklessly wandering into the deep end of the bay. She’s silent at first, and I wait for her to get mad or disapprove. Instead, she beams, her face twitching with emotion. “Hazel, do you know what this means?”
I look at her perplexed. “Uh… No.”
“Your powers are progressing at such an advanced pace, that even my potions can’t control them. It’s possible you may even develop abilities that most shape-shifters only dream of!”
I’m stunned, my legs feeling wobbly and weak. “Special powers? Like what?”
Mom supports me with her arm and leads me inside, setting me down on the sofa next to her. “Hazel, most shape-shifters only have the ability to transform completely. Meaning, there is no in-between like you experienced today. When a shape-shifter is developing, there may be exceptions like with what happened to you in the shower with the tail. That usually only occurs in adolescence. The fact that you can control this at your age means that you will have the ability to partially or fully transform at will. Even your father didn’t have this power.”
Suddenly, it seems like a big bowling ball has been jammed down my throat. I’m at a loss for words. She slides her alexandrite ring off her finger and gives it to me. “This will help protect your powers from being discovered until you have total control over them.”
I put it on my index finger and study the mesmerizing gem, as it sparkles and winks at me. The ring feels heavy on my tiny finger, the aged silver forming the design of an eye, with the iridescent gem positioned at the center of the eyeball. “If you feel a shift coming on, and you’re among humans, all you need to do is tap the gem three times. After the third tap, you will become invisible and those around you will forget you were ever there.”
I stare at the ring wide-eyed. “You mean it’s an invisibility ring that can also alter people’s minds?”
“Yes, but you must only use it when it’s absolutely necessary, Hazel. I am trusting that you will not abuse its powers. Magic must be used only for good, or to protect oneself from harm. Please remember that.”
I nod, the significance of the situation suddenly making the ring feel like it weighs a ton.
7
The rest of the week goes by like a whirlwind. Final exams, end of the school year ceremonies, and yearbook signings make the days go by too quickly. It’s not until Sunday comes around that I feel a sense of panic, knowing that the next day I’ll be leaving home for the next few weeks. That feeling of excitement, jumbled up with a dash of nervous apprehension, fills my stomach with butterflies. I’m actually looking forward to dinner at Andy’s house. The good food and laughter will be welcome distractions.
We stroll to his house at a leisurely pace. Twilight has always been one of my favorite times to amble around town. Something about the fading light kissing the emerging shadows makes it seem magical. I can smell Mom’s comforting scent, jasmine oil, as the breeze blows faintly towards the sea.
“Mom, you know I haven’t packed yet right?”
She puts her arm around my shoulder as we walk. “I know, honey. You won’t need to bring much. I’ll help you when we get home later.”
Her response makes me nervous, and somehow I feel like I’m going to prison with just the clothes on my back.
“Don’t worry. You’ll absolutely love it there. It’s a place where you can be yourself without any fears. I know you’ll make me proud.”
“I know, I know… Now the question is, will you be okay without me?” I say half jokingly.
She chuckles. “As long as you remember your dear old mom and call me once in a while, I’ll manage.”
“Of course, Mom!” I say, leaning in for a hug. “So… How are we supposed to get to this amazing place anyway?”
“Ah yes, I almost forgot... We have two options. The old fashioned way and the magical way,” she says mysteriously.
I roll my eyes. “Care to elaborate?”
She laughs playfully. “Okay, I won’t tease you. By old fashioned, I mean travel by car. Andy’s parents have offered to loan us theirs, the trip would be around three and a half hours. The other option is transport via portal, which would get us there in minutes.”
As tempting as an instantaneous portal sounds, I have a feeling that I’ll be getting my fill of magic the next few weeks. Having never left the comfortable surroundings of Safe Harbor, a road trip seems even more enticing.
“I choose the old fashioned way.”
Mom looks relieved. I know that spending a few more hours with me watching the scenery go by will be comforting for both of us.
“In that case, I’m glad that my driver’s license is still valid!”
I playfully nudge her shoulder. “Geez, I hope you remember how to drive… I may decide that the portal is the better idea after all.”
We both laugh just as we near Andy’s small but cheerful looking house. A delicious smell wafts out the open windows and a warm glow welcomes us. Claudia has decorated the patio with paper flowers and streamers, and the trees are lit up with lanterns. As we approach the front door, Andy opens it looking freshly showered and shaved. He is wearing the only button down shirt he owns and his “nice” jeans. I know Claudia has had something to do with it, but decide not to poke fun at his snazzy attire.
“Finally! I’m starving and Mom wouldn’t let me touch any of the food until you guys got here.”
Andy leans down, embracing Mom affectionately, before stretching his arm to playfully push my shoulder.
“So, you ready for camp? My guess is you’ll probably have your nose in your sketchbook all summer… I expect you’ll come home without a tan and with calluses all over your fingers.”
“And what could be wrong with that?” I say the words defensively by accident, feeling slightly guilty about lying to Andy. He looks at me crookedly, as if questioning my tone with his expression, but the interest leaves his face immediately after we hear footsteps coming our way.
Claudia appears out of nowhere, carrying a tray of freshly cooked empanadas. “Hazel, your favorite: spinach, cheese, and egg.”
I grab two and munch on the crispy pastry as we move over to the patio where Andy’s Dad, Manuel, is busy pouring sangria into cobalt blue glasses filled with ice. He graciously hands one to Mom. “Maven, it’s nice to see you out of your studio. Claudia tells me your new paintings are fantastic.”
Andy attempts to sneak a cup of sangria, while his dad isn’t looking. But Claudia catches him from the corner of her eye and swats his hand. “I don’t think so! That one is for you and Hazel,” she says, pointing to a pitcher of fruit punch.
His shoulders slump in disappointment. “Mom! What’s the big deal? It’s mostly juice anyway.”
“Andy, listen to your mother,” his dad says disapprovingly.
Andy sheepishly pours us two big cups, handing me one with a crooked grin. I take a big sip and say, “Mmmm… Thanks.”
Claudia, who looks even more festive than usual, in a cherry print sundress that matches her scarlet lipstick perfectly, brings the food out in platters, balancing them while walking precariously in high heel wedges. All the dishes are vegetarian. I know this is special since Mom and I are the only ones who don’t eat meat at the table. There is a fresh heirloom tomato salad, festive vegetable paella, crispy empanadas, grilled corn on the cob slathered with butter and grated cheese, and a blueberry pie, its juices oozing out from the top crust. We dig in voraciously, eating under the glow of the paper lanterns.
“Andy, what will you be doing this summer?” asks Mom.
Andy shrugs and replies, “You know, the usual. I’m going to help Dad ou
t with the boats, try to spend some time at the beach, take some photos here and there.”
“That sounds nice. I’m sure you’re looking forward to relaxing a bit, and enjoying the break,” she says politely.
A moment of panic grips me. Hearing all this small talk about summer at Safe Harbor already has me feeling homesick. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling sentimental. “I’m looking forward to camp, but I’m really going to miss this place…” I say meeting Andy’s eyes as he gives me one of his warm and comforting smiles from across the table. Even though he means well, the gesture cuts into me, making my already wounded heart sting.
The lively chatter continues until our stomachs are full and the sangria is gone. Mom, whose face is flushed from the alcohol, gives everyone an affectionate hug and peck on the cheek before leaving.
“As much as we would love to stay all night, we have to get back home and pack,” she announces.
Manuel hands Andy the car keys. “Drive them home and leave the car there so Maven doesn’t have to worry about picking it up in the morning.”
“No problem, I’ll just ride my skateboard home,” Andy replies.
We get into the creaky but reliable old truck, and drive through town slowly. It’s only a quick trip, but it seems to take much longer with the fog that has suddenly blanketed town. When we finally get home, Andy parks out front and hands the keys to Mom.
“I’ll go ahead and start organizing your stuff,” she says, leaving us alone on the stoop. We sit on the steps and watch the fog slowly drift down the street.
Andy puts his arm around my shoulder. “So I guess this is it, huh?”
My eyes are teary, and I’m embarrassed to be so emotional. “I don’t know how I will manage without you guys, but I guess it’s time to grow up… At least for the next few weeks,” I reply with a forced a smile.
“You’ll be okay. Actually, you’ll be better than okay, you’re going to kick butt!” Andy cheers enthusiastically, his dimples deepening as he grins.
The Familiar Page 4
