by Rae, Nikki
“What—” I swallow and try again as I untangle my fingers from his. “What should I tell them?”
“Just tell them what Jade told you,” Myles says. “And that I'm at work or something. They'll believe you.”
It's just that simple for him, isn't it? Is it always this easy for Myles? There are more questions that stem from that one, but the wound from the lies is still too fresh, and there's already a new one forming with Jade's name on it. Without looking at Myles again, I march off toward my friends.
***
When we get back to my mom's house, no one else is home. I figure they might have come home, picked up Leena, and took her somewhere as an early birthday present. I was supposed to come home tomorrow for her party. I can’t believe this is why I’m home now.
I go directly down to the basement. Boo follows me while Trei tries to find some clean clothes of Laura’s that I can borrow.
“Are you hungry?” Boo asks, as we sit down on the pull out couch that’s always been down here.
The basement, aside from my piano missing, looks pretty much the same. The TV is still across from us, the bookshelves are still intact. There are a few odds and ends that have ended up in here—mainly garden supplies and junk that now occupy the corner my piano once sat.
Without it, this place feels like a body without a heart.
I shrug. I'm not hungry, but I haven't really had anything all day so I probably should eat something.
Boo sits down next to me, flicking on the TV but keeping the volume down. “We could get pizza,” he suggests softly, like I can't take his full personality right now.
I shake my head because I know if I eat, I won't be able to keep it down. My stomach is still coiled up on itself.
Trei comes back down the stairs a few minutes later with a new set of pajamas and jeans hanging over her arm. “I wasn't sure if you wanted to get dressed or not,” she explains.
I take the clothes from her but just set them next to me. There’s no point. “Thanks.”
“Hey, Sophie,” Boo says in a gentle voice.
I don't think I've ever heard that tone come from him.
I finally get up the nerve to look at him and he smiles a little. One of his arms wraps around my shoulders and the other hand opens in front of me, revealing a white pill in the middle of his palm.
“I know you don't like taking drugs and stuff,” he says, “but I think if there's any time to make an exception, it'd be now.”
“What is it?” I ask, glancing at Trei, who is on the floor in front of the TV, looking for a movie to watch.
Boo shrugs. “Xanax. Our mom was taking them when she was going through the divorce.”
“Yeah,” says Trei, stacking a bunch of DVDs in a pile of rejects. “So were we.”
Boo smiles slightly at the joke and Trei gives him a quick one back.
He stares at the pill. “When Laura texted us and told us what was going on, I figured you might need something to calm you down.”
I want to tell him no. I want to tell him that just because everything is falling apart, it doesn't mean I have to. But what I say is, “Fine.”
I snatch the pill from him and take it without any water.
“Now what?” I ask, settling back into the sofa.
“Now, Sunshine,” Boo says, patting me on the arm. “We relax.”
And I do. My mind pushes the things I'm supposed to be doing—like worrying and freaking out about the club, rehearsal, how cover week starts on Monday and we’re going first and we aren’t practicing right now—and makes room for nothing else besides the colors on the TV as they play a movie I can't recognize.
“I'm tired,” I say suddenly.
“You can lie down for a little while,” Trei says, already sitting on the arm of the sofa and taking a scratchy knitted blanket from behind me so she can cover me with it. “You don't have to sleep,” she says. “Just lie down. Those pills are strong, you know?”
“Yeah,” Boo agrees. “They gave Mom the highest dosage. If you ask me, they should have just knocked her out for the entire divorce.”
I nod, not knowing what else to do with that information.
“You guys,” I practically slur out as everything starts to smear together. I place my head on the cushion near Trei’s knees, and Boo sits down on the floor so I can stretch out.
“Yeah, Sophie?” Boo asks.
I close my eyes to make everything stop moving, which helps keep me from getting nauseous. “I know I don't say it, but I love you guys.”
“We love you too.” Trei's voice comes from above me, and her hand brushes mine.
“Yeah. Why else would we put up with your crap?” Boo attempts at a joke.
That's the last thing I remember for a while.
I don't really fall asleep. I get stuck walking down a never ending hallway that is the realm of between sleep and awake, every step taking me further away from one or the other. But when I surface, I hear talking.
Boo: “Yeah, we tried to get her to eat something, but she didn’t want anything.”
Myles: “Okay.”
Trei: “You sure you guys'll be okay by yourselves? We could stay.”
Myles: “We'll be fine. If anything comes up, one of us will call you.”
Then I go back under, running, running toward sleep but never making it there.
Someone switches off the TV, and my eyes creak open. Myles is standing in front of the black screen, running a hand through his hair before walking to the couch.
“Time?” I ask hoarsely.
“Twelve,” he says. “AM.” He kneels down so his face is on the same level as mine.
“Is everything okay?”
Myles nods. “There isn’t anything that points to Michael being involved,” he says. “I didn't think he was, but I wanted to make sure.”
“Stevie?” I sit myself up, but I have to blink a few times so fight off a wave of dizziness.
He looks like he wants to sit down next to me but Myles remains standing. “Stable.”
I have to fight to keep my heavy lids open. “Where is everyone?”
“Boo and Trei went home. Everyone else is asleep.”
I glance at him, his expression half concerned, half looking like he's waiting for me to fall over. “Jade?”
“He's still at the hospital,” Myles says. “He won't leave until they let him in to see Stevie.”
“Do you think they will?”
A small smile forms at the corner of his mouth. “There's one doctor there that's thinking about it. Probably by tomorrow he'll finally let him in.”
I nod again, my eyes closing without my permission.
“You should get some sleep.” Myles' voice comes from in front of me.
“Yeah,” I agree. If only it were that easy.
“Do you want to sleep here?”
I shake my head. “My room still has a mattress in it, I think.”
“I'll carry you.” His arms are already around me.
I push him away, trying to stand but my legs will not work. “I can walk.”
Without moving away from me, his arm tightens around my waist. “I don't think that's a good idea right now.”
“Boo gave me Xanax,” I say as he lifts me in his arms.
“I know.”
That's all we say for a while.
“Is this it?” Myles says softly in my ear once we're up the stairs.
I open my eyes for a split second to confirm that Adam and Mom's room is to the left of the landing, meaning we're in front of my old door. I nod.
The door opens, and Myles sets me down on the bare mattress.
“I'll go find some blankets,” Myles says before heading back out and down the stairs.
I pull my cell from my pocket and hold it. There are no texts. Jade hasn't called. I don't notice that Myles has come back until his hand is in front of me, trying to take my phone.
I pull my arm away. “Jade might call.”
“I'll wake
you if he does,” he says gently.
I don't feel like arguing, so instead, I turn on my side with the phone clutched in my hand.
A few seconds later, one blanket, then another, are carefully placed over me. Then Myles walks around the bed so we’re facing each other.
“Do you want me to stay here or in the basement?” he asks.
I don't think my mind can process at its full capacity it needs in order to weigh the options, so I just shrug.
A few minutes pass. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“About Michael?” Myles asks. “Yes.”
I stare at him and wait for my vision to settle down. “Are you lying?”
I watch his adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallows. “I deserve that,” he whispers. “But I’m not lying.”
“So,” I say, grasping onto the words through the fog of all the thoughts flooding my mind. “Some asshole just hits someone with their car and leaves?”
Myles looks like he wants to sit down near me by the way he shifts his weight from leg to leg, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”
More silence.
Myles sits in a chair I hadn't noticed that was moved in here. I recognize it as a ratty wicker one that used to be on the porch. I don't know and I don't care how it got in here; this isn't my room anymore.
“Are you still angry at me?” he asks, “I understand if you are. You have every right to be.”
I roll onto my back so I can stare at the ceiling. At least the pink glow-in-the-dark stars that Leena and I stuck to it are still intact. I let out a long, slow, breath.
“Look,” I say quietly. “I'm not saying that what you did was okay . . . or that I'm forgiving you.” I have to blink a few times to keep myself on track. “But,” I glance at him, and he's staring at me intently. “Uhm.”
I have to stare back at the ceiling to continue.
It's so hard to talk right now. Especially about this. “I just don't want to fight. And I don't want to be angry at you. There's too much going on to be concentrating on dumb shit that neither of us can change.”
“Okay.” I barely hear him.
I turn my body in his direction again, staring at him staring at me. “But you can't lie to me.”
He nods.
“I can't do it. Not if you're hiding things.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I turn my eyes back to the ceiling. “You can stay here. Just not . . . here.” I indicate that I mean the bed with my hand. I don't think I'm ready for that right now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod.
I spend the rest of the night half staring at the pink plastic stars, and half stumbling down the dark hallway between being asleep and being awake.
Accidents Happen
Chapter 11
“Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall”—The Shins
My eyes snap open. It's day time again. Myles is exactly where I left him, sitting in the white wicker chair in the corner and staring at me.
“How are you?” he asks.
I don't answer. There is no answer to give. “Okay” isn't true, “fine” is even less so, and if I tell him “bad”, there isn't anything he can do to make it stop.
“Did you sleep?”
I nod. I didn't. He probably knows that, but he lets me have this one small lie.
Myles brushes the dark hair out of his face and leans down next to me like he's looking for something.
“Can I have my phone?” I ask, rubbing my eye with the back of my hand. He must have taken it while I was asleep because I'm no longer holding it.
He stretches his legs longer than he needs to when he stands and reaches into his back pocket. “If I give this back,” he says, “promise you'll stop looking at it every five seconds.”
I'm not promising him crap anymore. Snatching the phone from his hand, I crawl out of bed. “I'm going to get dressed,” I announce. “I have to help with Leena's party.” It’s my turn to stretch now. “Want to meet me back here, like, at the front door, in about an hour?”
He stares at his shoes. “You sure you want me to leave?”
My heart jumps. “Why? Do you have a bad feeling about something?”
“No.” His eyes are on mine now.
I don’t want to talk about it, but I have to. “What did Ava mean when she told me that the club and apartments are ‘protected’?”
Without me in the bed, Myles sits down on it. “There are places he can’t go.”
“And they just so happen to be the places where I live and work.”
He nods to himself. “Would you believe me if I said magic?”
I snort. “Of course,” I say. “Of course it would be magic.” I have to sit down too now, but I keep my distance.
“It’s true.” Myles shrugs.
“So . . . witches?” I ask.
He smiles a little. “No one calls them witches anymore.”
I throw my hair into a ponytail.
“Vampires are in tune to different wavelengths of energy,” he says. “We can manipulate them to an extent—like taking pain away—but only a few of us can alter the energy of an area permanently.”
I crack my knuckles.
“You don’t want me to keep things from you.” His tone isn’t confrontational.
“Yeah,” I agree. “So you just have someone come and protect stuff whenever you want?”
Myles shrugs. “Kind of. We have to pay them, but once it’s done, it’s safe unless they take the protection away.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Honestly, me either,” he admits. “All I know is that someone cannot enter a place that’s had its energy altered in that way if they mean someone else harm.”
“How many places are protected?” Though I wasn’t aiming to have a paranormal conversation at the moment, it’s taking my mind off of my human life.
Myles stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, thinking. “There are the apartments, the club, Evan and Ava’s place, my house . . . not to mention almost every hospital I’ve ever been to.”
“So, just so we’re clear, Michael isn’t after me?”
He raises a hand like he wants to touch me, but he lets it drop. “No.”
“Why not?” I ask. “What makes you so sure?”
“He tried to kill you and you lived,” Myles says. “He won’t go after you again.” He turns completely toward me now. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he says. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
“I'm okay.” I let a breath out like I can prove it that way. “I'll be fine.”
Those are the only words I can say to get him to leave.
I shower quickly with really warm water, because my mother believes that if we have air conditioning, we should use it. Full blast 24/7. Dressing in dark jeans and a The Cure T-shirt, I don't bother with makeup. I towel off my hair as my Doc Martens slowly clomp downstairs, ready for the craziness that is my mother's party planning to get my mind off of everything currently happening.
“Well look who's awake,” Mom's voice echoes down the hall.
“Sorry,” I croak. I'm not in the mood for a fight.
“Laura's outside setting up tables and chairs. Leena's in the den,” she says in a surprisingly pleasant tone as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder. “I have to go pick up Leena's cake. Do me a favor, and blow up some balloons for me while I'm out?”
I’m grateful that Mom doesn’t seem to want to talk about anything besides Leena’s birthday. I rub my eye again, just to make sure I'm not still dreaming or still high from that pill Boo gave me last night.
“Yeah, sure,” I answer.
Her heels click on the linoleum, and she waits for me to retreat into the kitchen before opening the door to the bright day outside.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket is pointless, but I do it. I want to call Jade and ask him if he's okay. If Stevie is okay. But I don't want to make him think about how his boyfriend—fiancé—is lying there
comatose while his needy sister keeps calling him. So I replace the phone in my pocket and walk into the living room to be a good sister and wish Leena a Happy Birthday.
The couches have been pushed together and there are various colored blankets covering them. As soon as I find an opening, I crawl inside next to Leena. She’s wearing her purple birthday dress with a plastic tiara on her head.
And she's crying.
Her little round face is all puffed out, and her tiny nose is red and there are tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Hey,” I wrap my arm around her. “You shouldn't cry. It's your birthday.” I know why she’s crying, so there's no use in asking. I’m guessing Mom told her something about the situation, I just don't know what, and I don't want to ask Leena for fear of making her cry more.
“I—” She sniffs. Leena directs her eyes to me and then back into her lap where she has a sheet of temporary tattoos with things like unicorns, rainbows, and stars on it. “I need help.”
“With these?”
Leena nods. Sniffs again.
“Okay.” I scoot even closer to her, grabbing the sheet from her little hands. “Which one do you want?”
“All of them.” She gulps down what I assume to be the last of her tears.
I peel the protective plastic away and tear off a unicorn that has a purple star on its ass. It's some form of a knock-off My Little Pony, but Leena doesn't seem to mind.
She sticks out her hand, revealing a wet wad of paper towel. I take it, and she turns around, pointing to her shoulder.
Sticking the fake pony side down against her skin, I start wetting it, waiting for it to show through the paper.
“No,” she says, ”you're doing it wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do it like your tattoos.”
I don't know what she means. “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz,” I try to mimic the sound of a tattoo gun for her. “like that?”
She nods.
And so it goes on like this until the sheet is used up.
“Sophie?” Leena asks when we’re done and she’s covered in cartoons.
“Yes, birthday girl.” My voice sounds almost normal.
“Is Uncle Stevie going to be okay?” Now she turns to me, and her face is still red but her eyes have stopped watering.
