by Diane Farr
Of course, he wasn’t necessarily lying. Compared to the vastness of the cosmos, I guess Transylvania isn’t far from the mall.
“Really?” Nonny’s tone was noncommittal. “Not much of a residential section near the mall.”
I grabbed three orange juice glasses out of the cupboard. “Lance lives in an auto dealership,” I said. “Or is it a Wienerschnitzel? I forget.”
They both ignored me. “We’re renting,” said Lance. “Temporarily.”
“Well, that’s smart when you’re new in town. Gives you time to look for the right situation.” She tilted the cutting board over the frying pan and dumped the chopped herbs with one practiced swoop of the knife. “Where are you from?”
“Oh, everywhere. I’ve lived all over the place. You grew up in Cherry Glen, right?”
“Right.” She pulled a loaf of her world-class homemade wheat bread out of the bread box and started slicing. “Lived here all my life, except for a brief stint during my hippie days.” She chuckled. “It seemed like a brief stint. Fifteen years. Time flies when you’re having fun, they say. Anyway, I brought Zara back here about ten years ago, and I don’t plan to leave again.” Her knife paused for a fraction of a second, then went back to slicing. My guess is, it occurred to her that Lance’s question had turned her attention away from him. And that that’s probably exactly what he intended. Nonny’s pretty smart. At any rate, she went right back to her questions. “What’s your family like, Lance? You have any brothers and sisters?”
Wow, this was great. Nonny was asking all the normal stuff that people ask when they meet their kids’ friends. I’d never asked any of it. He always seemed so other-worldly to me, I just never asked him point-blank where he came from and all that. She made it seem so simple. And her questions were totally making Lance squirm.
I plopped into the chair across from him and watched his face. “Yeah, Lance,” I said. “What is your family like? I trust they’re enjoying Cherry Glen.”
“Who wouldn’t? Cherry Glen’s great. I’m really looking forward to school.” Mr. Sincere. Gag me. “It’s tough starting a new school as a junior, though. I hope Zara will show me the ropes.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to.” In went the eggs. A yummy sizzling sound emanated from the frying pan.
“Hey,” I said, annoyed. “I’m glad the two of you have settled that. But, gee, I wonder what Zara thinks?”
I was immediately sorry I had jumped in. Because just like that, Lance was off the hook. A quick turn of the subject, a few eggs sliding into a pan, a laugh, and Nonny forgot to ask about his family. Grr.
It got better, though. When we all sat down over eggs and potatoes and toast and homemade jam and milk and orange juice and, for Nonny, a big mug of Starbucks French Roast, she picked up right where she left off.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking a lot of questions,” she said, smiling determinedly. “I like to know who Zara’s spending time with. Can’t be too careful these days.”
Lance’s smile was unflappable. “Right,” he said. “These eggs are delicious. Is that fresh dill?”
“Sure is. So what are you and Zara doing today?”
Lance bought himself a few seconds by chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “I thought we’d do a little sight-seeing. This orange juice is really good, too.”
“Glad you like it.” She wasn’t falling for that change-the-subject ploy any more, I noticed. Over the rim of her coffee mug, Nonny was watching him like a hawk. “Sight-seeing. In Cherry Glen?”
Such a charming smile. “You probably think there isn’t much to see, but remember, it’s all new to me.”
“Uh-huh. Like what? We have a Carnegie library, but it isn’t open at this hour.”
I’d never seen her like this. Whatever she’d seen in Lance’s face had really raised her hackles. No smooth-talking hottie was going to bowl Helga Norland over.
And I’d been afraid she would fall for him! I thought he’d have all the power! I couldn’t believe this. I was ready to bust my buttons, I was so proud of her.
Lance turned to me. “Doesn’t have to be anything in particular. There’s lots of pretty country around here. What do you think, Zara? Where shall we go?”
“Me?” I paused in the act of buttering toast. “I’m just along for the ride.”
Nonny stabbed a fork into her eggs. “We’ll see about that. What ride? Do you drive, Lance?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, I know how to drive. But I’d never drive Zara around without your permission.”
I rolled my eyes. The aw-shucks routine was going a little too far, if you ask me. And it didn’t snow Nonny, either. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that. And I’m sure you can appreciate that I like to know where Zara is, and who she’s with, and when she’s coming home.”
“I’ll have my phone with me,” I said.
“This jam is great,” said Lance. “Did you use the peaches from those trees beside the house?”
“Yes,” said Nonny. And that’s all she said. I guess she was done thanking him for every little compliment. Not that Lance was necessarily blowing smoke; Nonny’s jam is scrumptious. She took another sip of coffee. “I want you to stay in public places today, Zara. Do you understand me?”
I raised an eyebrow. Nonny hardly ever orders me around. I mean, hardly ever. So when she does, I tend to oblige her. Because it usually means she’s concerned about my safety. If you go through life with an adult who generally lets you do anything you want, when they finally tell you point-blank to do something, or not do something, you pay attention. “Okay,” I said. “Sure.”
I felt Lance’s anger heating up across the table from me. I felt it, but it didn’t show at all on the outside. The guy’s control is really amazing. He continued to eat calmly, and never batted an eye to show how irritated he was at Nonny. She gave a brisk little nod, then got up and started clearing her place. Lance started to rise from his chair when she did—where did he learn his beautiful manners?!—but she waved him back to his seat.
“No, no, you kids take your time. I need to get going. You want to take something with you?”
“No, thank you,” said Lance. “Zara’s lunch is on me today.”
Eye of newt and toe of frog, no doubt.
Nonny stacked her dishes in the sink, untied her kitchen apron, and hung it neatly on a peg near the door. Then she swung back by the table to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “Call me,” she said.
“I will,” I said.
She patted my shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Lance. Keep my girl safe today. I want her back in one piece. Walk me to the door, sweetie.”
She didn’t mean for me to walk her to the kitchen door, of course. I got up and walked her to the front door. The kitchen door faces the meadows behind the house; the front door faces the road and, across it, Norland’s Nursery. My walking her to the door gave us about twenty seconds of privacy.
Her face was tense. “He didn’t answer a single one of my questions, Zara. So I’m asking you. Who is this boy? Where did he come from?”
Whew.
I had to tell her. “I honestly don’t know.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re scaring me. Do you really expect me to let you go God-knows-where with him? Who are his people? Have you met his family?”
“Um. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
She stared at me. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”
I could feel my ears turning red. “I guess it means that if I’ve met his family, I don’t know it. That probably sounds lame.”
“It certainly does. Have you seen where he lives?”
This was getting worse and worse. “No.”
Nonny was ruffling up like a hen when you pet it backwards. I rushed into speech. “Look, we’ve only set this up for one day, I promise. And we haven’t planned anything romantic, if that’s what you’re afraid of. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. In fact, if it makes you feel any bett
er, I don’t trust him any more than you do. But Meg’s getting all gaga over him. I want to find out what makes this guy tick. I can’t do that with Meg around.”
Here’s the horrible thing: each one of those statements was true. And yet, strung together like that, the individual true statements left a deliberately false impression—that I planned to spend a day harmlessly getting to know Lance because Meg was falling for him. In other words, I was twisting the truth. That’s not far from lying. In fact, it may even be the exact same thing as lying.
Add that to my ever-growing list of things I really have to think about someday. Someday SOON.
But today was for Lance. After all, I had given my word. I couldn’t let anything stand in my way.
But that, I realized ... as the magic thickened in the air all around me ... wasn’t true. It was just an excuse. I could have, in fact, let Nonny stand in my way. She was certainly willing. This was my golden opportunity, and I was kissing it off. One nudge from me, and Nonny would have put her foot down and forbidden me to go. Instead, I gave her a song-and-dance about Meg and hustled her off to work, promising to call her and keep her posted on my whereabouts.
In other words, there’s no point in pretending anymore. I’m not even fooling myself.
I want this day with Lance. I want it bad.
Sure, I’m scared. And no, I don’t trust him. But I’ve longed all my life to know what I am. And if I have to take lessons from an arrogant, manipulative, amoral jerk with a killer smile and eyes to die for, I guess that’s the breaks.
12
I went back to the kitchen. Lance was clearing the table. He paused when I stopped in the doorway, and our eyes met.
I was suddenly super-aware that we were alone. We’d been alone together at the edge of the woods, or on the porch, but now we were alone in the house. Alone indoors is different from alone outdoors. I couldn’t tell you why, but it is.
My voice sounded huskier than usual. “No more mysteries,” I said. “I want answers.”
He straightened, still holding a stack of plates in his hand. “You stop running from me,” he said softly. “And I’ll give you what you want.”
I nodded. “Deal.” I moved forward and took the plates from him. “For one day, Lance. I’m standing still for one day. At the end of the day, I might start running again ... or I might not.”
“Depending on what?”
I couldn’t keep my wits about me while looking at him. So I carried the dishes to the sink. “Depending on how badly you scare me, I guess.”
“Well, see, that’s what I don’t get.” He followed me to the sink. Not to help, mind you. He leaned against the drainboard and watched me, his eyes as hard—and as beautiful—as jewels. “What scares you, Zara? Tell me. Then maybe I can keep from scaring you.”
Yeah, right. As if I could ever feel safe around Lance.
“It’s not just you. All of it scares me. You know that,” I said. I started running water over the plates, so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “It spooks me, having powers that I don’t understand. Powers that other people don’t have. I mean, okay, the upside is obvious. But there’s a downside, too. It’s a lot of freakin’ responsibility, for one thing. I never know what’s fair and what’s cheating. And I’ve had to figure it all out for myself, and let’s face it, I haven’t gotten very far. It’s not that I don’t know how to use my powers—although I probably don’t. It’s that I never know whether I should.”
“There are rules I can teach you. Tips, to keep you safe.”
Safe! He thought I was worried about getting hurt, or getting caught.
He didn’t get it at all.
I may not know much about him, but a few things I do know. The glimpses I’ve had into his brain left strong impressions. His way of thinking is much less cluttered than mine, much less mixed-up. But that is largely because everything is so straightforward to him. There is only one consideration to be applied to every circumstance, and his world is ruled by it: what’s best for Lance?
Lance Donovan is the most perfectly self-contained person I have ever met. He is also, possibly, the most selfish person I have ever met. And if he has a moral compass, I haven’t found it.
I struggled to find words to explain my situation to him. It was no good letting him into my mind at this point; my thoughts were too chaotic. I had to say it out loud to give it some cohesion.
“Safety is good, but it’s not the only thing I need. Nonny brought me to Cherry Glen because ...” My voice kind of faded out. This part was hard. I shut the water off and faced him. “I don’t remember much about it, but I think she brought me here because we were in trouble. We came from a commune. I was little, and I didn’t understand, and I was ... doing things. At dinner I would turn my broccoli into ice cream, stuff like that. Harmless stuff.” I took a deep breath. “Only it wasn’t so harmless. Because everyone at the commune ate together. And people notice when broccoli turns into ice cream.”
“Ah.” That’s all he said, but I knew he understood. “How old were you?”
“I don’t know. Four, maybe.”
An odd thing happened when I said that. Lance’s whole body went still. And for a second or two, I couldn’t read him. He was shutting me out.
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Four’s a little young, that’s all.” His gaze refocused on my face. “Go on. People started to notice, you said. And Nonny took you away?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I could be wrong, you know. Maybe we would have moved here anyway. Maybe our departure had nothing to do with me. Because her uncle died, and she inherited the farmhouse, and the whole what’s-up-with-Zara vibe at the commune might have just, coincidentally, been happening at the same time. But I don’t think so. We left very suddenly.”
Images flashed in my mind. Memories like bullet points, disconnected fragments containing only parts of the whole. That’s what happens to childhood memories when you can’t reinforce them by asking questions of the adults who were present at the time.
I remembered Nonny arguing with someone ... someone important ... about me.
I remembered, dimly, a hurtful impression that people who used to like me didn’t like me anymore.
And I vividly remember packing by candlelight, and Nonny not letting me help because the packing had to be done quickly and had to be done right. She set me on the top bunk, out of her way. She told me to hush—in a whisper so fierce that it frightened me into silence. And because Nonny was afraid, I was afraid. And then I fell asleep, as little kids do. And when I woke up, I was in the back seat of some kind of vehicle that bounced a lot. A truck, probably. And our boxes and suitcases were stacked all around me in the dark.
I don’t know how much of this, if any, Lance picked up from me while I remembered it. I shook my head like a swimmer coming out of deep water, and came back to the present. “Anyway, we left the commune. And Nonny impressed on me ... rather strongly ... that when we got to Cherry Glen, I had to behave myself.”
“No more magic.”
“Right.” I looked down at my hands. They were clenched tightly on the edge of the sink. I forced myself to let go, and rubbed some life back into my cold, stiff fingers. Just remembering those days made me tense. Telling someone else about it was even worse. “The whole subject became taboo. We just ... pretended I was normal.”
“You’re kidding.”
I looked up from my hands. Lance’s expression was so shocked it was almost comical. I smiled a little. “I wish. No, I’m not kidding. I stopped ‘playing tricks,’ as Nonny called it, and we just tried ... the two of us ... to forget. I think she hoped I’d outgrow it. In fact, for all I know, she believes I have. Outgrown it, I mean.”
“Are you telling me that Nonny doesn’t know?” His disbelief was palpable. “She thinks your powers were, what? Pulled out with your baby teeth?”
“Something like that, I guess.” I could feel myself getting defensive. “Like I said, the subject
’s taboo. We don’t talk about it, so I don’t actually know what she knows or doesn’t know. All I know is, I’ve hidden it from her all these years. I don’t like to upset her, and my powers upset her. So, I figured , why rock the boat?”
“Wait a minute. When you ‘played tricks’ and she got upset, was it because of the things you did? Or just the fact that you could do them?”
“Oh, just the fact that I could do them. I wasn’t a spiteful child or anything. I didn’t play mean tricks on people.” Suddenly a light bulb went on in my brain. “Come to think of it, that’s why I started believing that magic is bad. It always upset Nonny, no matter what I did with it. When I was little I thought it made her angry. Looking back, I think it just frightened her. And she worried, I think, that she might lose me. Like, if I did something that made us too conspicuous, the Men In Black would come and take me away.”
“Wow.” He shook his head in amazement. “So you hid it from her. Which means she thinks you’ve outgrown it. When, in fact, it’s been growing with you.”
“Right.” I filed his remark away for future reference. Even that little tidbit, thrown out so casually, was news to me: apparently it’s normal for the magic to strengthen as you get older. No wonder I was having more trouble controlling it.
My ignorance about myself is astounding.
“Anyway, now you know where I’m coming from. If I seem skittish to you, it’s because this whole magic-thing is forbidden territory, to me. Just talking about it creeps me out.”
A smile quirked one side of his mouth. “I see that. In fact, you’re amazed that you’ve told me all this stuff.”
“Yep. And I’m already starting to regret it.”
“Don’t. Your secrets are safe with me.”
Not all of them, I thought.
“Probably not,” he said. “But the ones you just told me are.”
I quickly blocked him before he could see the secret I had been thinking of—that the Men In Black weren’t Nonny’s only fear. Sure, it would be bad to have her little Zara stolen by some black ops agency that wanted to weaponize her powers or something. But to Nonny, it would be equally bad to get Child Protective Services sniffing around. Since our relationship wasn’t exactly legal. And there was probably no way to make it legal.
