by Laura Rich
Not that we had many since we lived out of a trailer, but there were things like food and gas and hook-up fees, our cell phone plan with a hotspot so Mom could receive calls from the Bindan and I could access a lot of data for my gaming obsession when we were between a hard-wired land line or trailer park wi-fi. Then there were the clothes I regularly grew out of to replace. So, I guess there were sort of a lot of bills.
I nodded and my attention drifted to things I could do to save money. Reduce my data plan? I shuddered at the thought. Aside from the few regular rennies I’m friends with, most of my friends were virtual and part of an extensive online gaming community.
Three hard knocks rang on the aluminum door. I craned my neck to look out the milky glass louvered windows and snorted when I saw two blond heads. “It’s…uh, not our friends?”
“What?” Mom shot up and flung the door open in one fluid movement.
A cold gust of wind shot through the trailer and sucked all of the heat out in one shot. I shivered and pulled the hood up on my sweatshirt. The forecast said it would warm again just as quickly, but not until later tonight.
“What are you girls doing here?” Mom said. There was a hiss of disapproval in her voice. “You know you’re not supposed to see us outside of the colony!”
“They barely see us inside the colony,” I said, under my breath.
“Can we just come inside?” said a whiny voice. “I think we got whammied!”
“Mom, shut the door!” I said. “It’s freezing!”
Mom stepped back and held the door open. “Get in here before someone sees you.”
Ella and Lily shuffled cautiously into the trailer. Their eyes raked over our crammed living space, with its mis-matched furnishings, in a way that silenced my normally smart mouth. I locked my mental walls in place, one by one, to block out any emotion from them. Whispers of last night’s migraine still lingered in my head and I wasn’t eager to jump-start a new wave of pain.
“Sit,” Mom said, her voice stern.
The girls sat on the sofa, crossed their ankles and folded their hands in unison. With their identical long blond hair and matching mannerisms, it was hard to tell them apart, aside from their clothes.
I rolled my eyes at the picture of obedience while I covertly admired Lily’s chocolate brown high-heeled boots that matched her leather coat and Ella’s (faux?) fur lined parka and booties.
I picked at the pilling on my Pain Diversion T-shirt. It’s my favorite punk rock band, and I had been shocked to find a vintage edition smashed between a button down blouse and a blazer one day at the thrift store. Who would give away a gem like this? Of course, I bought it immediately.
In an effort to save money, my voluntary uniform was second-hand dark blue jeans and black T-shirts. I wore them like an attitude, but a small and silent part of me wished we could afford actual “outfits” for me sometimes. Pretty things that matched, like Lily and Ella’s clothes.
“Tell me what you think ‘whammied’ means,” Mom’s eyes narrowed. “And please, use lots of detail.”
I smirked. I learned sarcasm from the best.
Lily began. “We went to the other fortune teller-”
“What other fortune teller?” Mom demanded, and turned to me.
My mouth fell open. “What? The festival just started. I haven’t scoped it all out yet.” It was sort of my job to check out the competition so we could request a location change, if needed. Usually that wasn’t a problem, though. Mom and I have been doing this so long that we almost always got a prime spot.
“Yeah, and she told our fortunes, that we were going to do great things!” Ella said. “Especially me. I’m going to be an agent of change someday.”
“Please.” Mom raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
I pressed back a smile and earned a glare from Ella.
“Forget it,” Ella said. “All you need to know is that, after, she asked if she could do some kind of blessing on us and we said yes, and she waved her hands around and said some blah-de-blah stuff like we heard at the binding, and then there was a warm glow and poof!” The words tumbled from Ella’s lips, rapid-fire. She seemed like the chattier one of the two.
“I do not say blah-de-blah stuff.” Mom said, her eyes ablaze.
It was Ella’s turn to smirk.
“Hold on.” Mom said, and rubbed her forehead. “How much of the binding did you see yesterday?”
“Enough to recognize magic when we see it!” Ella said.
Mom sighed. “You know why you’re not allowed to watch us, right?”
“It’s not like we’re going to learn how to do magic.” Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “You made sure of that.”
Mom’s face froze.
“Hey!” I pointed at Ella. “That was your parent’s call, not my mom’s!”
“No, it’s okay, Kate,” Mom said. “I understand her anger.”
My shoulders eased. It would suck to have your parents take away your magic and give you no say in it. What a messed up response to the Salem Witch Trials. It happened so long ago. Why keep up the tradition elected by a few scared witches who wanted to blend in to avoid detection? Mom and I easily kept our identities concealed from humanity.
Mom turned to Lily. “Tell me your version.”
Lily nodded. “Well, about thirty minutes after the fortune reading, we started to feel sick.”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “What did this - fortune teller - say, exactly?”
Lily threw up her hands. “I don’t know.” She looked at Ella for support. “Donut?”
“Donut,” Mom repeated. “You heard me do no magic that speaks of bakery.”
The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss, and I stifled a laugh.
“Potent!” Ella pleaded. “That means strong. That has to mean something.”
“Strong donut.” Mom snorted and shook her head with what looked to me like relief. “You saw nothing. More like you ate a bad turkey leg.”
Lily and Ella exchanged glances.
“We did share a turkey leg,” Lily said.
“And funnel cake,” Ella rubbed her stomach.
“And a beer,” they said in unison.
“I’m not even going to ask how you got ahold of beer,” Mom said.
“It was on a railroad tie at the back of the fairgrounds!” Lily said. “Just sitting there!”
“You drank beer you just found laying around?” I said and made a face. “That’s disgusting.”
“Agreed,” said Mom.
“It was in a bottle! It wasn’t open!” Ella said. “We’re not stupid.”
“Oh, clearly,” Mom said. She closed the gap between herself and the girls in one stride and felt their foreheads, then took their pulse on their wrists and lifted their eyelids. “I diagnose mild food poisoning and lack of judgment.” She nodded. “Nothing more.”
“But what about the magic she did on us?” Ella got up and put her hands on her hips.
“Look, at worst this woman is taking away my business.” Mom held up her hand. “I would know if there was another witch about. There isn’t. And there is nothing she could have done with what you described that would elicit the symptoms of food poisoning.”
Ella and Lily looked at me. “Angie?” they said, in unison.
My shoulders sagged. “It’s Kate.” Are they kidding me? That wasn’t even close to my name.
“Oh, sorry. I thought-” Lily said. “Anyway, you believe us, don’t you?”
I sighed. At least she apologized. “It’s not like any magic I’ve ever heard of.” I said, and twisted my lips like I was thinking, to give myself time to try something. They seemed so convinced of their experience that I let my mental walls slip just a bit, to see if their feelings aligned with their experience.
Pings of anger and frustration with an undercurrent of fear flew at me. I slammed my walls up again as I winced at a new wave of migraine pain. If there was no witch at work, something else had definitely scared them. I could check it
out, since I still had to do my walk around the fairgrounds.
But I didn’t want them following me, so I would need to make them go away. I entertained an inner grin. Scaring the Bindan was my specialty.
“I mean, what does it get her to give you guys a stomach ache?” I said, with a shrug. “You should go home before my Mom calls your parents.”
That earned me two more glares, but they didn’t move.
I sighed and stood, slowly straightening to my full height. They didn’t know I was just a hedge witch; we never told the Bindan about my lack of powers. To be fair, they never asked, so as far as they knew, I was a witch, just like my Mom.
Ella and Lily’s eyes widened.
Good, I had their attention.
I drew my shoulders back and pulled down my hood in what I hoped was a menacing gesture.
“You don’t belong here.” I said, between my teeth.
They looked at each other.
“F-fine!” Lily said, as she rose and grabbed Ella’s hand, trying to tug her off the sofa. Reluctantly, Ella stood and let herself be led to the door.
“Bye, girls,” Mom said. “Try some mint tea.”
“I hate you!” Ella glared at us with dagger eyes and shoved Lily out the door in front of her.
It slammed shut behind them and the room was heavy with the silence of their absence, and all it implied.
“Ah, impressive display of intimidation, but I fear it won’t be enough. That’s why we don’t go easy on them the first time.” Mom said. “Because they show up at our house, fishing for information about magic. Now I have to report that to Elder Wright.”
“Oh, come on, Mom.” I said. “That guy is the biggest dou-”
“Kate!” she said.
“Well, he is.” I said. “So, you don’t think there is something to their story? I read them. They really are scared about something.”
“Kate.” Mom said. “They’re Bindan. They bind their young so no one will find out they’re witches. Their default is fear, remember?”
Point, Mom. “Yeah, okay.” I picked at the table again.
“And please stop picking at our stuff,” she said. “It’s a childish habit.”
My head jerked up. She had never mentioned it bothered her before.
“Sorry.” I pulled my hands off the table.
Mom seemed stressed out, which is not her default at all.
“You okay, Mom?” I said. “Want to talk?” We always talked through our feelings. We even discussed our dreams over breakfast every morning. It was one of the things that made us so close.
I suddenly felt a rift in that connection.
She looked at me for several beats, as if she was going to say something.
“I’m fine,” she said. She waved her hand at the cellar door. It responded by flying open with a bang. “I’m going to the workshop. I’ll be back in my tent in about an hour.” She descended into the depths that connected our trailer to a pocket dimension that served as our workshop. It was a pretty cool space, and Mom spent a lot of time down there, especially to decompress. She liked to write in her journal and said it helped give her focus and calm.
Gringo bounded down behind her, but he paused first to give me a prolonged hiss.
I gave him the finger and shouted down after her, “I’m going to take a walk.”
“I know you, Kate Roark! You leave that fortune teller alone!” came my mother’s voice from the depths below. “A little healthy competition is good for the soul!”
“I would never!” I said, and grabbed a sweatshirt from a peg by the door.
5
I headed out of the camper park and followed the din of the crowd to the fairgrounds. The festival was organized in the round, with paths cutting across the circle behind the main stage areas. The prime vendor spots were around the edge of the loop by the front, where Mom’s tent was located, because they got the most foot traffic. I’d guessed the competition would be in one of the paths towards the back, since they weren’t visible from Mom’s tent.
After a short search enjoying the warming but still-crisp winter air laced with the familiar scents of smoked meats and spilled beer, I found the other fortune teller and watched from the soft pretzel vendor across the muddy rut that served as a path.
She operated out of an olive green canvas tent with a piece of frayed purple velvet fabric covering the door. A hand-lettered sign with, “Madame Miri’s Fortunes” hung on the side. A long line wound around the corner and out of sight and everyone in it either stared off into space, scratched their arms, or talked to themselves. One woman stood on one foot and did all three.
“What on the Goddess’s green earth is this?” I muttered.
The tent flap fluttered open and a man and woman emerged and squinted in the cold sunlight. They stumbled, then caught each other and drifted away into the crowd, murmuring to each other. The next customer glanced around and ducked into the tent. The flap closed behind him and the rustling line of customers resumed their strange rituals.
Intrigued, I moved next door to the sari tent, the owner of which was my friend, Indira. If my mother was small (at five feet, two inches), then Indira qualified for tiny. I thought she might be four-nine. She was also my favorite person to run into on the festival circuit.
Though her English was minimal (better now that I’d given her some lessons), the language barrier wasn’t an impediment to our friendship. We seemed to hit it off right away even though she was about the age my mom looked - around forty years old. While she was friends both my mom and I, Indira met me first and kept my confidences like someone my own age.
“Kate!” she squinted at me. “What is…problem?”
I slipped deeper among the racks of fragrant, silky fabric that lined her tent. Her huge brown eyes let nothing escape scrutiny. She was a hard-nosed business woman, adept at haggling, even through the language barrier, and I realized she probably knew everything I needed to know about my mother’s competition.
She followed my gaze and narrowed her eyes at me with a smirk. “Ah, you want to know for…other daayani.”
I frowned and repeated her. “Di-yanni?”
She shook her head. “Daayani.”
“Ok,” I let it slide. It sounded the same as when I said it. I had no tongue for other languages - reason one hundred and sixty-two I’ll never make it beyond a hedge witch. Latin will never be my second language and it was practically required for even the most basic spells. “Do you mean other fortune teller?”
Indira nodded towards the fortune teller’s tent and pointed to me, then back at the tent. Her dark eyes sparkled and I wished I could understand her better.
“Daayani,” she said.
“Sure, that.” I gave up and nodded. “What do you know about her?”
Indira pointed at the people in the line and made circle motions with her finger around her ear: the universal sign language for crazy.
I laughed and nodded again. “They do seem a bit strange.”
“Daayani make… sad,” she said.
I bit my lip. Sad? More like anxious, but I got the picture. I pointed at myself, then at the fortune teller’s tent. “I am going to go there and get a reading.”
Indira’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head. “No, Kate. Bad Daayani. Not like you.”
I cocked my head at her and was just about to explain I didn’t tell fortunes like my mother, but a group of middle-aged women with too much cleavage showing swarmed between us and peppered Indira with all kinds of questions.
“Kate!” Indira strained to see me over the towering heads of the women. “Kate!”
“That’s okay!” I said. “Thanks for the talk! I’ll catch you later!”
As I headed towards the end of the line for other fortune teller’s tent, I resolved to find a good Hindi-English translation app so I could speak to her in her own language, too.
6
The line moved quickly despite all the hitching, twitching and general itching o
f the participants in it. I inched forward and glanced at Indira’s tent now and then to see how she fared with the sudden crowd of customers. I saw her dark head bob in and out of the racks to fetch different colors and styles while the women milled around, laughed and held the colored silk against their chests and blatantly ignored the, “No Food or Drink Inside the Tent” sign. Indira would flip her lid when she saw it. I’d seen her chase customers off for less.
“You haven’t seen Madame Miri yet, have you?” a too-close man’s voice said in my ear. Spittle landed on my neck. My mental walls clicked in place. Close talkers always triggered my empathy, regardless of my connection with the person. It was reflex to protect myself against them, too.
I jumped back and looked the speaker up and down as I took him in. The man had wild, uncombed hair, a stained, half-buttoned dress shirt with one tail tucked out, and his pants had a big rip along the side. He looked like he had slept in these clothes, in a sticker patch. I took another step towards the doorway and tried to look interested in a poster that listed Madame Miri’s appearance dates and locations.
“No.” I used the edge of my sleeve to wipe my neck. “First time.”
“I was here yesterday, the first day, too.” The man nodded and rubbed his arms. “She’s good. Lots of detail.” A wind swept up behind him and his hair fanned out around his face.
I glanced at him sideways and nodded slowly. “Ah, sure.” The line moved again and I moved with it, and noted from the poster that this was the first festival where Madame Miri, Mom and I were all in attendance. Illinois, Indiana, Michigan…she was on the northern circuit prior to this. “Aren’t you, ah, cold?”
“Cold?” He said, and looked around, noting for perhaps the first time, that everyone was dressed warmer than he was.
I wrinkled my brow and looked at the poster again. Why did she come so far south? Most people pick one or the other, depending on their weather preference. Mom and I, for instance, hate the cold, so we stayed south. Well, that and the Bindan colony was down here.
“So you came to see her yesterday, and today?” I said. “You know, there is another fortune teller, a really good one, just up there.” I pointed in the general direction of my mom’s tent. “She’ll be back in probably an hour.”
