I drop my arms to my sides. “I’m not going anywhere and you shouldn’t want me to. I’m on your side.” I’m hoping my confidence will call her bluff and she’ll cut the crap.
“Sure.” She says it like she doesn’t believe me.
“It’s true,” I say, scanning the room over her shoulder. There’s not much here—a bed, dresser, desk, and chair. The desk has a laptop and is otherwise covered in clutter, but I notice a gold credit card peeking out from beneath the edge of the computer and I’m betting it isn’t hers. She spies me looking.
“It’s my mom’s. I figure she owes me, but I only use it for important purchases. Stuff I can only get on the internet.”
“You can’t keep your mom’s credit card, Lucy.” What am I supposed to do now? Let her keep it to get close to her? Or do I play tough cop?
“I knew it! You’re just like the others. You’re going to rat me out. Well fine. Hurry up and then get the Hell out.”
“I’m not going to rat you out. Relax.” I give her the winning smile that used to get even the toughest females to open up. Her mom will figure out where the money’s going eventually. That’s not why I’m here. “Now tell me about these others.”
Lucy relaxes a little. “No one stays. No matter who they are or why they’re here. Even my mom thinks I’m completely nuts,” she says. “She shouldn’t worry so much. I’m not gonna do it again. Not to them, anyway.”
“Do what?” I squat down so I’m level with her while she sits on the day bed and grabs one of the fifty throw pillows.
She furrows her brow. “I almost drowned my dad.”
Holy crap. She tried to kill her father? That’s way beyond a stolen credit card. I don’t know if she’s trying to scare me or impress me, but she’s done both. I collect my thoughts and try not to act disturbed. “But you didn’t actually drown him. He’s still around. What did you do, push him in the swimming pool?”
“No. We don’t have a swimming pool, Einstein. I used black magic. He choked on water in the middle of the living room.” Her normal eye lights up and a creepy smile spreads across her face, then disappears. “But it didn’t last. The spell broke almost as soon as it started.”
I cock my head, trying not to react too strongly. Is that shit even possible? Maybe she’s hallucinating or has delusions of grandeur or something. “What are you reading? It’s not what it says on the cover. Show me.”
Her face goes white as she tucks the book behind her back. “Get out.”
I don’t have to see it to know it’s bad. But how do I save her? “Let’s talk about something else,” I say.
“So you’re going to drop it? Just like that?” She sits up straighter, but doesn’t let go of her book.
It’s my turn to strike a nerve. “Tell me what pushes everyone else away.”
She straightens. “Can’t you tell? I’m evil. I have the evil eye.”
“Eyes aren’t evil. People are evil sometimes, but they choose to be.”
“My eye sees things that other people can’t see.”
“What do you see, Lucy?” I stand, then tentatively sit on the corner of the bed, still several feet away.
“I see auras. A shadow means evil, I think. And glowing yellow means good. I can see people no one else can see. I know my eye is ugly, but I like making people scared.” She leans in. “I want to terrify them. Hurt them if they make me mad.”
“Why?” I ask.
Lucy can’t hide her surprise at the question. “I…I don’t know. What difference does it make?” For the first time she seems interested in what I have to say. Maybe it’s because she’s narrowing her eyes and the gray one looks less creepy that way.
“It makes a lot of difference,” I say. “I used to make bad choices, too. So many that I got into the worst kind of trouble.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“I got hurt. Really bad. And it wasn’t just me—I also hurt someone I care about. She was killed because of me.”
Lucy’s cool, collected mask falters for just a moment and she looks a lot younger all of a sudden. It makes me wonder if her attempt to murder her father made her feel guilty. Maybe it was an unsuccessful attempt for a reason. I can work with that.
“Did you go to jail?” she asks.
“Worse. But I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about you.” I scoot closer, giving her my full attention.
She chews at the corner of her thumbnail. “Mom thinks I’m crazy. She’s trying to get a shrink to agree so she can drug me into submission.”
“It sounds like your mom is worried about you and trying to find a way to help.” Lucy scrunches up her face like she’s ready to close off the connection we made. I need to talk fast. “You don’t know how good you have it with your parents,” I add. “At least they don’t beat you. And they aren’t convicts or addicts. Your mom even tried to cook you dinner. I don’t remember the last time my dad did that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, standing. “I hate them. They won’t talk to me. Not really, because that would mean they actually have to listen to what I have to say. They want to pretend I’m normal.”
“Sometimes,” I say, stretching out my legs, “people avoid the truth not because they don’t care, but because they care too much.”
Lucy turns and squints at me. “You don’t have an aura.”
“I don’t?” I ask, surprised. If Lucy really can see good and evil, I figured I’d be gold by default. I am technically an Angel. But then again, I was a Demon for awhile, too.
“I like you.” She sits back on the bed, crisscrossing her legs and facing me.
“Well, thanks. I like you, too.” I wink. “The name’s Josh, by the way.”
She offers a hand to shake and I do. “Can you be my tutor? I can’t stand Ms. Alvarez. And don’t tell me she means well. She’s doused in shadows.”
I laugh. “I won’t argue there. I don’t trust her, either. ”
“Why? Are you an ex-student or something?” she asks.
“Something like that.” I shudder. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t be your tutor because I’m no good at all that. I never even finished high school. But as long as you do your work and don’t take her too seriously, don’t worry. I’ll be around.”
Lucy sighs. “Fine. For now, anyway. I’m hungry.”
“How about you go back downstairs, then? I bet if you tell your mom you’re sorry, she’ll make you a new plate.”
“Ugh. I’m not sorry. Forget it. I thought you understood.” She grabs her blanket and hugs it, leaning back against her headboard with a pout.
“Start by saying sorry anyway.” Maybe the feeling part will come with practice.
“Just lie. Simple, yet brilliant.” She jumps out of bed and kisses my cheek. “I knew I liked you, Josh.”
She’s out the door before I can stop her and I’m left in her room, my hand on my cheek, wondering if I’ve just done more harm than good.
Chapter 19
Grace
Kobe huddles by the bank of the river, dragging a stick through the muck and humming to himself. He doesn’t wear a jacket even though it’s freezing outside. He has long sleeves at least, along with torn jeans and dirty sneakers complete with frayed laces. His breath fogs out in front of him as he hums a haunting tune.
I watch him for awhile, mesmerized by his concentration as he carves his temporary artwork into the gunk by the Detroit River. Finally, I draw in courage in the form of a deep breath, approach, and squat beside him.
He doesn’t startle or even look over at me. Instead he pauses briefly before continuing his complex design of squares and swirls. “You better get back to where you came from,” he says. “Girl like you’s gonna get jumped out here.”
I reign in my surprise at his statement. “I’m not worried about me, Kobe.”
He finally looks over at me, forehead furrowed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Grace. I saw you drawing and I wanted to know more about yo
u. What is that design? It’s cool.”
He makes a raspberry sound with his mouth. “How you know my name?”
Smart kid. “I heard someone call you that.”
“You Jon’s bitch?”
“Excuse me?” I fight the urge to stand up and back away. I have to remember who I’m dealing with. He has both bad and good at war inside of him. Ignoring Cam’s dark side turned out to be a dangerous mistake. I never thought he’d try to hurt me. I rub my waist, remembering how he strapped me into his horrible torture device. If it hadn’t been for Josh… I stop myself right there. Just the thought of losing Josh hurts worse than anything Cam did to me.
Kobe gives me a curious look and goes back to etching his masterpiece. A piece of old coffee cup wiggles at the river’s edge, trapped partially in the muck as the slow-moving water tries halfheartedly to yank it free.
“So?” I press. “What is it?” I point at the mesmerizing design.
He considers it. “It’s the music in my head, if it was a picture.” He looks surprised that he admitted that to me and quickly tries to cover. “You probably think I’m crazy, right? Well, I don’t give a shit what you think.”
“That’s too bad, ’cause you know what I do think?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, standing up and tightening his grip around the stick. I shake off the memory of him stabbing his brother as I stand to meet him.
“I think it’s beautiful. I think it’s amazing that you have something in your head that looks like that. And I think you’re pretending to be meaner and dumber than you really are, and I wonder why you’d do that.”
I fold my arms across my chest. I’m still in my old jeans and shirt, but I have a winter jacket on. The same one I wore when I was at North Farmington High a few months back. When I met Josh.
Damn it, I did it again. I have to focus on Kobe.
Kobe’s mouth hangs open like he’s never seen anyone like me before. His grip on his stick slackens and it falls to the ground, knocking the cup free to flow into the water.
I wait.
“Shit,” he finally says. “You some kind of shrink?”
“I don’t have to be a shrink to know smarts when I see them.” I shrug. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Lady, you don’t know much about this area, do you? Our schools don’t got anything to teach us. No computers, no art classes. Sometimes I go for lunch, but that’s about it.” He shakes his head like it’s a lost cause. “Seriously, this isn’t a nice neighborhood. You should get out of here.”
“Only if you come with me.”
“Where are we going?” he asks, eyes wide. “I know I look older, but I’m only eleven.”
I laugh. “You’re nine, but you look about eight, and we’re going to visit your mom and dad.”
“I don’t know my dad,” he says. “I’m not sure my mama knows him, either. And she’ll beat me if she sees I wasn’t in school.”
I consider whether he’s lying or not. It doesn’t really matter, I decide. I won’t let her hurt him. “Well, your school got a new program. They sent me to find you and be your personal tutor,” I say.
“Oh yeah? What’s this program called?” He folds his arms, too, and narrows his eyes.
I think fast. “GAP. The Guardian Angel Program.” I offer my hand.
He gawks at me for a minute, then shrugs and takes it. “If a pretty girl offers me her hand to hold, I’m not gonna say no.”
“Like I said, you’re smart.” I wink and lead him back toward my bug, which I conjured for old times’ sake. It got me through the biggest blizzard of my afterlife, so I trust it.
Kobe sinks down in the worn passenger seat and puts his feet up on the dash.
“Put on your seat belt,” I say in a tone that doesn’t leave room for argument. He does it, rolling his eyes.
“So, tell me about your mother,” I say as I drive.
Kobe shrugs, but when I remain silent he answers. “What’s to tell? Between me and my brothers and sisters and work, she doesn’t have time for much.”
“Where does she work?”
“She’s a ‘waitress’.” He says with air quotes. He leans back against the seat and stares out the window as we pass melted clumps of snow on the sidewalks. “She thinks she’s got us fooled. Like we don’t know what a stripper looks like. Stupid bitch.”
“Kobe!” I brake hard at a stop sign. I can’t help myself. No matter what, she’s still his mother. “Isn’t there something good you can say about her?” I prompt.
He thinks, sinking farther into the seat. “I guess she used to be funny sometimes. She’d make me laugh. She also used to watch us walk into school and spent all her lap-dance money on us kids, but since Martin died, she hasn’t been the same. Bitch fell apart and now Jon’s in the same gang. She forgets about me between them and my sisters. She still got time to dance though. Nothing gonna stop her from having more babies.”
“That’s no way to talk about your mom, even if you’re disappointed in her behavior. How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I ask.
He shakes his head, but continues on. “There’re six of us. Three girls, three boys. There used to be seven, but then Martin got shot.” He turns on the radio.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say.
He shrugs again. “That’s what happens ’round here. That’s why I’m getting out the first chance I get.”
“Were you close to your brother?” I ask, turning down the side street he indicates.
“Maybe. I try not to get close to anybody. Not a good idea.”
I press my lips tightly together. What an awful thing, to live with fear like that. His mother sounds better than Cam’s, though. And at least this time it wasn’t Kobe who killed his brother.
“I saw it,” he says, like he’s reading my mind. “I was in the driveway when he got shot. They weren’t aiming at anybody, but I think they meant it for him anyhow because we were the only ones out there and they were part of a gang that hated Martin’s gang. My sister, Izzy, got shot, too, but she’s okay. She has a scar on her shoulder and she’s always complaining about how it looks.” He shakes his head as if to say, “girls.”
“Wow, that must have been scary.”
“Not for me. I dropped down behind the bushes and I wasn’t close enough to get shot at. Jon was pissed though. He swore he’d go after them. That’s when he joined up with Martin’s gang so he’d have backup. I think there’re better ways to get back at them, though, than giving your life to a gang. I’m going to. As soon as I get my hands on Jon’s piece. Here’s my house.”
Piece? As in gun?
I shudder and pull up in front of the tiny, two-story home that looks like it’s seen better days. The roof is missing shingles in places and the walls are brown in spots—likely due to water damage. The tiny yard is overgrown with weeds, but doesn’t look out of place in the middle of a sea of neighbors with brown grass and cracked windows. I note that there’re bars on Kobe’s windows and doors as I follow him up the uneven bricks to the front stoop.
Inside, a dog barks and I think of Tommy Two, which leads me to thinking about Josh and the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Once again, I struggle to keep my heart from falling to pieces as Kobe leads the way inside.
“Who’s there?” a woman snaps from the kitchen. “I got a gun.” She comes around the corner carrying a shotgun. Kobe’s mother is attractive and far too young to have so many kids. “Tired” would be the nice way to describe her. She’s wearing a simple, brown wrap dress and has a scarf tied around her head. Her face is slathered in makeup, like she’s going on stage, but it still doesn’t hide the bags under her eyes. She stares at us both for a minute, shoulders slumped, then lowers the gun an inch.
“Kobe, what the Hell you doing out of school? I told you if I caught you skipping again I was gonna skin your ass.”
“Actually that’s why I’m here,” I say, stepping between them. “I’m Grace Howard and I am a
tutor from the GAP program.” I offer my hand, catching her eyes so I can glamour her.
“A tutor?” She asks, relaxing and letting the gun fall to her side. She still doesn’t shake my hand, though. “I always knew my boy was going to make it to college. What about my other kids?” she asks.
“I’ll see to it they get private tutoring and transportation, too,” I say. I don’t know how Mr. Griffith will feel about it, but he did send me here and tell me to help, so I plan to do some more glamouring after I’m done with Kobe for the day. First, he needs a jacket and some food.
Just chatting with Kobe and treating him with respect kindles a light behind his eyes that brings a smile to both our faces. Mr. Griffith was right. Helping Kobe does make me feel better, and despite his talk of revenge and his disrespect for his mother, in just these first few hours I can already see a difference in him.
Chapter 20
Keira
Like most teenage boys, Noah can’t get enough sex. Fortunately, unlike most teenage boys, Noah is quite good at it.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt that I’m a good teacher.
Predictably, though, he’s now hungry.
“Conjure me something good, babe. Like a stack of hamburgers or something.”
I laugh at his eagerness. “I can’t conjure you hamburgers, but I can take you out and get you anything you want. How about steak?”
“Steak, huh? Sure. Take me somewhere expensive. And get me some good liquor. Top-shelf.” He offers a hand and yanks me up on my feet. I stretch like a cat, showing off my body before snapping on some new clothes. I conjure him a suit a lot like the Boss’s favorite Armani pinstripe and I choose a red, satin dress with a slit up the side and a plunging neckline. Well, since it goes down past my stomach, it’s more like a plunging navel-line.
“You like?” I ask, modeling for him.
“Hell yeah.”
I guide him outside, where my sleek, black Vette waits along the street. Noah whistles, but I’m not sure if it’s for me, or the car.
“Wait, babe,” I say, using his pet word for me. “Why don’t you drive?”
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