by Carrie Jones
The bunny twitches her whiskers again and surveys the parking lot. The only thing that moves is her eyes.
I blush. "I know it's dumb, but they're so furry and cute and cuddly. I don't know."
"You're just like me!" she says. "I knew it."
"Just like you?"
"A bunny lover." She smiles and hugs me. "There are people who like cute, furry things and people who eat cute, furry things."
I pat her back, probably awkwardly.
"I am so glad you're here," she says, finally letting go. She must think about this and then she revises it. "I mean, it's cold and everything, but we have bunnies, although maybe you have bunnies in Charleston…"
I bite my lip, feeling like I'd revealed way too much about myself. I even have bunny pajamas, but I'm not about to tell Issie or anybody else about that, or about my old stuffed bunny, Edgar, and how he sleeps next to my pillow every night.
"Do you want to come over?" Issie asks. The wind blows her fuzzy hair off her forehead and then into her mouth. She spits it out and keeps smiling.
"Hair is not tasty," she says. "You look super cold."
"Ah…" I unlock the car, pressing my hand against my stomach. "I think I need to go get my car registered at the town office, I'm sorry."
I am. Really. Disappointing Issie is like telling a four-year-old that ice cream cones have been banned. If it has to be done, you don't want to be the one to do it.
She stands still. Her face crumples. She tries again.
"Oh, okay. I have a really cute cat, Muffin. You'd love her, I know."
I nod. "That's a cute name for a cat."
"It's not really original," she says and then she hugs herself. "How about just for a minute? There's a lot of stuff about town I should tell you. And Devyn wants to talk to you about the guy you saw. We'll just swing around front and pick him up. I always bring him home. Thank God. He hated riding the special-ed bus."
"That would be cool," I say, unlocking my car door. "You don't think he's still out here, do you?"
"Devyn?"
"No. The guy."
"Oh, I'm sure he's long gone," she smiles. "Right? Okay. Just follow me, okay?"
She waves and bounces away and I start smiling, really smiling. I can feel it all the way to my heart, even though I can't actually see the smile. I haven't smiled that big for a really long time, but Issie is just so cute and lovable that maybe Maine will be okay after all.
Giant snowflakes drift down from the sky. I tilt my head back as they fall. They are really beautiful when they fall soft and gentle. I stick out my tongue and catch one. It melts in a second.
I catch another.
And another.
The roads aren't too terribly icy and I manage to follow Issie's little Volkswagen to her house without skidding, slamming on the brakes, or anything like that.
The whole time I'm driving I'm thinking: This is where my dad grew up. These are the roads he drove.
These are the roads he won't ever drive again. Then I swerve to avoid a pothole. lssie is hauling out Devyn's wheelchair while I park and check out the house.
"Your house is cute," I say.
"It's very shingled Cape." She grimaces. "Very Maine. Charleston houses aren't like this, are they?"
"Not really," I say, and lock the car. It makes a comfortable beeping noise.
"You don't have to lock it," Devyn says. He's standing up beside his chair. I must make some sort of funny look. "Yeah, I can stand."
"I'm sorry. I'm such a jerk. I was staring, wasn't I? God, that's awful. I'm awful." I can feel my face go all red as Devyn plops himself into the wheelchair.
"I'll forgive you this time." He smiles. He unlocks some gadget thing on the side and starts wheeling toward the front door.
"Devyn may eventually walk again," lssie brags, opening the big red door. "He's got the doctors all astonished. He wasn't ever supposed to stand after the accident. He's a good healer."
Devyn gets this pained, embarrassed look so I don't ask about the accident. He changes the subject. "lssie's parents work late."
"At the bank," lssie explains. She flops on the couch, pats the cushion next to her, then lunges back up.
"Oh. I should offer you something to eat. Are you guys hungry?"
"I'm good," I say, taking in the room, the coziness of it. It's almost like a timber frame house, I would guess.
"Starving," Devyn says.
Issie bounds into the kitchen and conies back with a tub of Breyers ice cream. She plops it on Devyn's lap and gives him a spoon. "You are always hungry."
He flips off the top and digs in. "Too true."
We watch him eat. Issie falls back on the couch, but she's so hyper she starts twitching her foot. The silence is big.
"So…," I say. "You guys were going to tell me about the man outside the cafeteria. Have you ever seen him before?"
Devyn swallows. "I'm not sure. He creeped me out, which is not manly, I know."
"You are totally manly," Is announces in a way that makes both Devyn and me blush. She stops twitching. "Devyn looked up some stuff. You are probably going to have a hard time believing this."
I wait. "Uh-huh…"
"You want to tell her?" Issie asks.
Devyn sticks the spoon in the ice cream carton. It stands up straight. He toughs out the words, "We think he's a pixie."
I wait more.
Issie rushes in. "Okay. I know it sounds weird, but hear us out, okay?"
I wonder for a second if everyone in Bedford, Maine, is insane or just Devyn and Issie, and possibly me.
I decide to play along. "Okay."
"Okay," Issie continues. "Okay… um…"
"You said you saw him at the airport in Charleston," Devyn starts.
"On the runway." I pull my legs up under me and settle into the couch. "And then I saw him here."
I shudder, remembering.
"That's so weird," Issie says, tapping her fingers against her leg.
"I know it's weird." I nod. I take a pillow from the couch. It's dark green and has felt leaves on it. I hug it. "I thought I was imagining it. But you guys saw him today, right?"
They nod.
I ask the question. "You think he's a pixie?"
They nod again.
The spoon falls over in the ice cream.
"Aren't pixies little winged things that dance around flower gardens?" I ask.
"Not exactly." Devyn grabs the spoon like it'll steady him somehow.
"Why do you think he's a pixie?" I finally say, trying to take it all in.
"He gets from place to place really fast and he leaves gold dust where he walks," Issie says. "Totally pixie ruler behavior. At least, um, according to the Web site Devyn found."
"Gold dust? Like Tinker Bell?" I stand up. It's too much. "Is this a joke? Some initiation prank, like let's torment the new girl?"
"We would never do that to you. That would be so mean." Issie frowns, all crushed.
Devyn's voice raises an octave. "I told you not to tell her the dust part. It sounds stupid."
"I know it sounds stupid." Issie stands up with me. "But it's true."
"Right. It's true," I say. I jingle my car keys, itching to leave, but still wanting to hear this for some stupid reason.
Issie's practically pleading. "But the Web site said so."
"Well, we're not sure it's true, Is. It's a working theory," Devyn says. His eyes look pained. "I know it seems ridiculous, Zara. I mean, I think it's kind of ridiculous, but I've been all over the Web and I can't find anything else that would explain this guy."
"And why is he following me?"
"That's a good question," Devyn says. "When did you first see him?"
I do not want to think about it. I have been actively not thinking about this for four months, but Is and Devyn stare up at me with these wide-open, trusting eyes and I just plunge ahead, ignore the ache in me.
"After my dad died."
Issie and Devyn look confused.
>
"You saw him when your dad died?" Issie says.
Then I remember. This morning there were little glitter sparkles by my car. Dust. Pixie dust. No, it can't be that. But maybe it's something else-a calling card, some sort of serial killer hallmark.
"What?" Devyn asks, wheeling closer. His chair hits a copy ofPeople. "What did you just figure out?"
"How do you know she figured something out?" lssie asks.
"She has a look."
I close my eyes. I open them. "I'm not sure if I believe the whole pixie thing…"
"But?" lssie straightens herself up, waiting.
"But," I continue, "I am pretty positive that the man I saw when my dad died is the same one at the high school. I am pretty damn sure, actually, and I want to find out who the hell he is."
lssie tries again. "What if he's a pixie?"
I almost laugh. "I don't think he's actually a pixie. Maybe a stalker or something."
lssie's eyes light up. "You mean he read the Web site and he's modeling his behavior?"
"Yeah. I don't know. But if he's just some normal psycho how can he get everywhere so quickly? It makes no sense. It might just be a big coincidence."
"You don't believe that. You're just trying to fool yourself, to not be scared," lssie says.
I swallow. She's right. I am.
"What about the dust?" Devyn urges. "There's not a lot of it, but it's there. I saw it."
"I don't know about the dust. Maybe he plants it, like some sort of creepy calling card," I say, checking my watch. "I'm sorry. I have to go get the car registered before they close."
It's true, but I'm really trying to leave because I just want a second to myself, a second to figure this out.
When I get to the door, lssie puts her hand on my wrist, gently. "You'll be careful, right?"
I nod.
"You don't believe us?" Devyn asks, pivoting the chair so he can look at me.
"I don't know," I say. "I don't know. The whole pixie thing is weird, but I mean, it's also weird that I'm here in Maine."
"And that he followed you," Devyn adds.
'"That's not just weird," Issie says. "It's creepy. Really creepy."
Amaxophobia fear of riding in a car
This is a fear I've never had. Until now.
"I am amaxophobic!" I announce to the steering wheel. I half hug it to make the point.
The steering wheel does not hug back.
There should be a rule that says you can't get too settled into things because something bad will happen.
Oh, I think there is. It's called Murphy's law, and it's about expecting things to go wrong.
I've only driven about three miles from Issie's when the Subaru tires make this horrible noise. The whole car just slides off to the right. The car angles itself toward the woods.
"Stop!" I yell. I slam the brakes. The car slows. It stops at a forty-five-degree angle in the breakdown lane.
"Okay. Stay calm," I tell the steering wheel. "No need to panic."
The wheel does not panic.
"This is my karmic payback for not figuring out the whole psycho-stalker thing sooner, right?"
I try to move the car back onto the road and its tires skid. Smoke flies up from beneath them.
"Okay, little car, you are protesting roads. They are death traps for animals. They are environmentally unsound impervious surfaces that cause runoff. I understand this. But could we protest in the summer?"
I try to back up again.
One of my tires falls into the gutter thing on the side of the road.
My whole body shakes. I try to move the car. It lurches to the side.
Okay. Two of my tires are now in the gutter on the side of the road.
"Yoko! Do not do this to me!"
Wait. I've named the car. Why Yoko? I have no idea. Yoko was always there for John, unlike the way the Subaru is here for me.
"Come on, Yoko. Let's imagine there's no gutter. It's easy if you try. No empty air below your tire.
Above it only car."
I put it in reverse. I put it in forward. I try to rock the stupid car back and forth. I shut off the Green Day. Maybe Yoko doesn't like Green Day?
"I hate Maine!"
I smash my fist against the steering wheel.
The horn blares, probably scaring all the little squirrels in the woods. I don't care. I hit it again.
"Stupid, stupid Maine," I mutter and bang the steering wheel another, time and then another until red marks start showing up on the sides of my hands.
Things areso not good. The sun is going down. It's freezing out. My car is all stuck and tilted like everything in the world is somehow horribly skewed and wrong, which I guess it is.
I mean, I am in Maine in a car stuck on ice.
I am beating up Yoko, which is just so wrong.
And I can't use my cell phone.
Why? I forgot to charge it.
Could life be worse?
I try to move again. The car lurches but slides right back.
The air screams of burned-rubber smell.
How ridiculous.
"I hate ice!"
I smash my head against the steering wheel and that's when I start to cry, bawl really. I cry and cry and cry. Because I'm stuck on the ice and my dad is dead and my mom sent me here, without her, where there are people who seem normal but are capable of suddenly believing in pixies, and I miss Charleston and warm air and flowers and roads thathave no ice on them.
I used to be the type of person who was always in motion, always doing things, writing letters, running through the streets, laughing with my friends, moving. Always forward. Moving.
Then I got stuck. My dad died and the only words I hear aredeath, deadly, stillness. To never move.
No forward. No backward. Just stuck. Gone forever, like my dad, a blank screen on the computer, an old photograph in the hall with no spirit in it, an ice patch on a road to nowhere, nothing. Just gone.
The sun is setting and it's only five o'clock.
How do people live here? It should be against the law to live anywhere that the sun sets so early. If I were a dictator I would totally make that law. Since I am not a dictator, I stumble into the cold with one of the flares from Betty's emergency kit and light it. I check out under the tire. I get back in the car.
Someone knocks on Yoko's window.
I jump in the seat and scream. I probably would have hit the ceiling but I'm wearing my seat belt. I cover my face with my hands, horrified. Someone raps on the window again. Finally, finally I get enough nerve to look.
Nick Colt stands next to my car, all casual, like standing in the ditch is part of his everyday routine. I put down the window.
Cold air rushes in. I shiver.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, stunned. He saw me scream. He looks like he thinks it's all funny, his cheek twitching like I'm some big joke.
"Is that any way to greet your rescuer?"
He smiles. His smile is perfect.
"I'm sorry. I'm just- Oh, I don't know what's wrong with me." I shake my head. "I'm freaked out. I'm sorry."
"Obviously." His voice is steady and low.
I wipe at my face. "I've never driven on ice before. Back home I'm a perfectly good driver."
"I'm sure you are."
"I am. I am a very competent person."
"I'm sure." He has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles.
I force myself to look away from the cute boy, look away from the dimple. "Really. And I don't usually scream when people knock on my window, either."
I start to open the door but he puts out both his arms to hold it shut.
He glances at the woods up the road a bit. "Stay in your car, Zara."
"We're not going to be able to get it unstuck. You'll have to give me a ride to my grandmother's house."
"It's better if you stay in the car."
I glare at him. Things shift inside me. What a bossy jerk. "I can decide if I should stay in my own car
or not."
"Let me try to push you out. It's better for both of us if you can drive your car home," he says, looking up the road again.
This time I follow his gaze. My gasp rips through the quiet. A shadow leaps off the road and disappears into the trees. Oh my God "Was that a man up there jumping into the woods?"
Something Hashes in Nick's brown eyes. Anger? Will? I don't know. God, I don't know anything. "It was nothing. Put up your window. Put your car in neutral. I'm going to try to push you out."
"But the man up there. He could help us?"
"There was no man up there."
His jaw tightens.
I swallow. "And if he wanted to help he wouldn't be jumping into the woods, right?"
"Right."
"Okay," I say. "Fine. But there was a man." My voice comes out angry and raw and then I add, "You aren't strong enough. This is a heavy car. It's a Subaru."
"I know it's a Subaru, Zara. Just let me try."
He glances up at the woods again. The tension in his shoulders eases a bit and then he reaches into the car and touches my cheek. His voice comes out much softer. "You were crying?"
I jerk my head away, late, just a little too late. His fingers feel like electricity against my cheek, like a magnet I can't be near.
"I don't cry," I lie, and start to put up my window.
His voice stops me. "It's okay to cry. It's frustrating getting stuck, and you're probably not used to ice."
"I wasn't crying."
He shakes his head, obviously not believing me, and then walks around to the back of the car and yells.
"Now. Put it in forward."
"Okay, just don't hurt Yoko."
"Yoko?"
"My car."
"You named your car Yoko? As in Ono?"
"You have a better name?"
"How about Subaru?"
"I'm shifting!" I shift the gear and the entire car lurches up and onto the road. I press the brake, amazed.
The car is not tilted anymore. I'm not stuck. Yay!
Nick trots up to the car, wiping his hands on his jeans. He bends down and smiles all cocky. "Told you I could do it."
His eyes aren't so hard.
"Thank you," I say. I bite my lip and look away and then look back. The center of my palms tingle. Why does he have to be so handsome? "You didn't get hurt or anything, right?"
"Do I look hurt?"
