Need np-1

by Carrie Jones

  My eyes close. This is probably true. "I don't want that to be true."

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't want to be violent." "It's not violent to protect your friend." "It doesn't matter. It's not like someone's going to go attack Issie."

  "We don't know that," "What? You think Is is in danger?"

  "No." He raises his hands up in the air. "I think we're all in danger."

  "From that guy? The pointing guy? You think he's seriously bad?"

  "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I do."

  I lean forward, closer to him. "But how? How do you know?"

  "I feel it here." His fist taps his stomach.

  We stare at each other for a second. There's something about his eyes that makes me frightened, yet not frightened. That makes no sense. It's like every part of me needs those eyes to look into my eyes a certain way, but I'm afraid of that. I want to ask about the dust I saw on his coat, but I'm afraid of that, too.

  "I'm such a wimp," I say.

  He must think I'm still talking about the pointing man because he shakes his head. "No you aren't. You just don't want to be brave."

  "What?"

  Nick doesn't answer because Devyn rolls back to the table. Issie bee-bops right behind him. He's got a pile of cookies spread across a napkin in his lap. "Is went a little crazy."

  "I didn't know what kind everyone would like," she explains, plucking cookies up off the napkin and putting them on the table. She glances at us. "Oh no. You two are still fighting."

  "No, we aren't," Nick says.

  Devyn eyes us.

  "Really," I say. "We aren't fighting."

  "Then what's all the doomy-gloomy vibe going on?" Issie asks, sitting down. She offers me a cookie, M&M's mixed with chocolate chips.

  "I scared her," Nick explains. He grabs an oatmeal raisin.

  "Good," Devyn says. "She needs to be scared."

  "What?" lssie turns on him.

  "Fear makes us stronger, puts us on our toes. We've got to embrace it."

  lssie snaps her cookie in half. "Guys can be so stupid."

  True. Devyn's face turns red but Mick just laughs.

  "So," I say really quickly, "are we going to go to the library after school today?"

  "There's no cross-country?" Devyn asks.

  "It's our day off," Nick explains. "Should we carpool or what?"

  I turn on him. "You're going?"

  "Yeah. Of course I'm going. That's okay with you, right?"

  I nod. "Yeah, that's okay and yes, we should carpool to lower our carbon footprint and all that."

  But for some reason knowing that I'm going to be in the library with Nick makes a knot form in my stomach, and it's not because the cookie is bad. The knot is becoming a familiar feeling. It's fear.

  That dust on his jacket? It doesn't necessarily mean anything, right? And the way my insides feel all crazy weird whenever I look in his eyes? That doesn't mean anything either.

  There is something about libraries, old libraries, that makes them seem almost sacred. There's a smell of paper and must and binding stuff. It's like all the books are fighting against decay, against turning into dust, and at the same time fighting for attention.

  I touch the cover of one book,ESP Your Way. "It's like they're all crying out, 'Read me. Read me.' " Nick turns around to look at me. "The books?"

  "It's like they're lonely," I say. I shrug on purpose so he doesn't think I'm too weird.

  "Books get lonely," he repeats, not looking at me anymore, scanning the titles above his head.

  "What?"

  "It's sweet."

  I am sweet. My heart flip-flops and I bite my lip a little bit. Sweet as in a lollipop, or sweet as in a girl you would like to kiss passionately in the stacks? That's the question.

  I squat down, checking out the numbers. "Found some."

  Mick squats next to me and whistles low. "Wow."

  We start pulling them out,Fae Lore, Fairy Charms, An Encyclopedia of Fairies.

  Nick carries most of them to the back table by a big bay window. Dust particles swirl around in the sunbeams. Devyn and lssie almost look enchanted, like storybook heroes.

  "You guys find stuff?" lssie asks too loudly.

  A guy by the magazines shushes her.

  "Sorry. Sorry!" She holds up her hand in an apology and then whispers at us. "What a grump. We found stuff too. Right, Devyn?"

  Devyn nods but doesn't actually verbalize anything, just keeps reading the book he's got. It's ancient and smelly. I sneeze and settle into a chair. Nick grabs the one next to me. He splits our book pile in half and thrusts three books at me. "Dig in."

  l dig.

  We read and read and read and then Nick says, "Got something."

  I sniff. "What?"

  lssie hands me a crumpled tissue she's fished out of her bag. "It's clean."

  "Thanks," I blow my nose. "I'm sorry. I'm allergic."

  "To books?" Devyn raises his eyebrows like he can't believe it.

  "Old books," I explain and lean closer so I can check out the book that's splayed in front of Nick.

  "What did you find?"

  "It's about the tributes," Nick says. He is almost snarling. "It's vile."

  "Just read it," Devyn demands.

  "Quietly." lssie looks over at Magazine Man, who is leafing through a copy of theEconomist and glaring at us.

  Nick lowers his voice and reads, " 'So you are being chased by a pixie?' " "It doesnot say that," lssie squeals, snatching the book away from him. "Oh my God, it does."

  "Issie…," I warn, looking to see if Nick's pissed. He isn't. "It doesn't really say that."

  "It does!" She shows me the book, pointing.

  " 'Of all of the Shining Ones-pixies, elves, fairies-it is true that the preservation of the princely bloodline is integral to their survival. They all share the sidhe heritage. In fact, their name is derived from the pict-sidhe. They are the Caille Daouine, or forest people. If you have been singled out by a male of their race, be proud. You are singled out to help continue the bloodline. It is unusual for this to happen. It is especially unusual for this to happen to humans. You might have some sidhe blood already flowing through your veins.'" I shut the book. "Oh, I am so honored."

  "That's amazingly bizarre," Devyn said, staring at me like he's never seen me before. "Do you think you have sidhe blood?"

  "What? No." I stare at all of them. "You guys aren't believing this."

  Nick and Issie both put their hands on my arms. Issie reaches all the way across the table.

  "I know this is a little freaky," she says, all calm.

  "A little freaky?" I pull my arm away. "It's super freaky!"

  "Will you please be quiet!" says the man reading theEconomist.

  "Sorry. Sorry." I sit down. I try to breathe slowly.

  "Maybe he wants you to be his queen," Devyn says. "Continue the line."

  "That's crap," Nick says.

  "Yeah." I glare at him. "Why would anyone wantme to be their queen?"

  "That's not what I meant." The front legs of Nick's chair slam back down.

  I can't even look at him. "Right."

  "I just don't get what this has to do with boys going missing," he adds in a whisper that is low and serious. "What do you think, Devyn?"

  Devyn rubs at his nose and stretches his arms out like he's been lifting weights and the muscles are tired.

  "The Web site said if the king doesn't have a queen he needs blood tributes from boys."

  Issie shivers. "Creepy."

  "What does that mean, though, blood tributes?" I grab one of Mick's books out of his pile and look at the index. "Oh. It's in this one. Page I23."

  I flip to the page, scan the lines, and suck in my breath.

  "What does it say?" Devyn asks.

  When I look up from the words I can see him staring at Nick, like he's trying to get strength from him somehow. His face pales.

  Mick nods at me. "Read it, Zara."

  " 'When unable to mat
e with a queen, the pixie king has no choice but to take blood tributes from young males.' " My voice starts shaking and Nick puts his big hand on my shoulder, steadying me. " 'The entire court will help him hunt down the boys, absconding with them to the king's home, where the boys' blood is slowly drained.' " I stop reading. Devyn's face is pale, almost all the dark, good color of it just gone, washed away. lssie's eyes widen more than usual. "That's sick."

  She sits back. She leans into Devyn, who still looks like he might pass out or puke or something.

  Nick squeezes my shoulder. "Anything else?"

  I flip the page. I don't want to keep reading, not if it's upsetting Devyn.

  "It's okay," Devyn says.

  I clear my throat and whisper. " 'Eventually, the boys die, their bodies overcome by the horrors brought upon them by the pixies. The pixies, this narrator might add, have no will to fight this overwhelming need.

  The pixie king can be without a queen for only so long before he succumbs to the dark, torturous side of his nature, and with his weakness the other pixies also become more debased and deprived, roaming the woods, hunting for potential queens and blood tributes.' " "Look," Nick points. "In the margin."

  "What's it say?" lssie asks.

  I squint at the faded pencil marks. " 'Stay out of the woods.' " "Good call," Nick says. His hand drops from my shoulder. I feel abandoned, colder somehow. I go to the back of the book where the due dates are stamped. No one has taken it out since they've pasted in a new sheet on the back page. But there's writing underneath it.

  I start peeling off the edges while lssie says, "I am really not into this pixie thing. You guys think this is right, don't you? About the blood tributes?"

  "Yeah, I know it's right," Devyn says. "But what does it mean that he's pointing at Zara all the time?"

  "That's obvious," Nick adds. "He wants her to be his queen."

  I swallow, but I don't look at Issie when I talk. Instead I stare into Nick's eyes. "Why not? It doesn't say that the pixie queens are bad."

  "It doesn't say they're good!" Devyn almost yells.

  The magazine guy throws hisEconomist on the table and stomps away.

  Issie lowers her voice. "We probably just haven't read the part about the pixie queens being murdered and raped and turned into blood tributes."

  "Right," I say.

  "Zara…," Nick warns. "You're thinking something."

  "No, I'm not," I lie, standing up. I grab the book we've been reading and a couple others. "I'm going to go check these out. It's almost dark. Betty'll kill me if I don't get home before dark."

  "Do you think she knows?" Devyn asks.

  "Knows?"

  "About the pixies?"

  I imagine Betty with her gruff flannel shirts and her fact-gathering nature. "No way."

  Nick gives me a ride home to where Yoko waits alone since we carpooled. We are silent a good part of the way.

  "I don't know if I really believe this," I finally say.

  "But?"

  "But if it's true…"

  "It sucks."

  "Basically. Yeah."

  He puts the MINI in park. "Maybe once we figure it all out we can set a trap."

  "A trap?" I pick at the back of the book, where the due date is. The little wheels in my head are working overtime.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Nerves, I guess," I say and then it peels away, revealing the way that people used to take out books from libraries. There's a list of people who had the book, all their names handwritten in neat lines. I gasp.

  Mick leans over, dark and forest smelling. "What?"

  The words blur on the paper. "On the take-out list. The last name."

  "Matthew White?" He looks at me.

  A tear escapes out of my eye before I can trap it in there. Nick reaches out with his thumb and wipes it away.

  "That's my dad," I stare at the name, written in his scratchy tall letters. "That means…"

  "He knew."

  "He knew about the pixies?"

  Nick nods, "But look at this."

  Written in pencil scratch around all the names like a border or something, it says,Don't fear. Here there be tygers, I57.

  "What does that mean?" I ask.

  "Is might know. It sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Nick says, but his eyes shade as he pulls out his cell phone.

  "You're not telling me something."

  "What?"

  "You're hiding something."

  "And how would you know that? You're psychic now?"

  "Your cheek is twitching. I have this, um, this theory that your cheek twitches when you lie or you're hiding something. It's like you're trying to run out of your own skin."

  He shakes his head, keeps punching buttons. "I don't know what to do with you."

  I smile. "You could just tell me what you're thinking."

  "Hold on," he says and then tells lssie what we found. She says something back and he hangs up.

  "Well?"

  He shifts his weight and slips his cell into a little nook between us. "She thinks it's a reference to the old medieval line, 'Here there be dragons.' It was used on maps and stuff to warn sailors away from dangerous places."

  "I knew it sounded familiar."

  "Mm-hmm."

  "But that doesn't make sense."

  "Why?"

  I point at the first two words. "It says not to fear."

  "And it's not dragons."

  "It's tigers."

  "Weird."

  Betty comes to the front door and yells, "Are you two going to sit out there forever?"

  I blush. "I should go."

  "Yeah."

  I step out of the car. The cold air bashes against me as I stuff the library book into my bag with all the others. I hoist the bag onto my shoulder, buckling under the weight.

  Nicks jumps out of the car so quickly that I don't even notice it, and he's suddenly beside me, taking the bag off my shoulder. "Let me get it."

  I am all for equal rights and everything, but it's pretty heavy. "Thanks."

  "No problem," he says, walking with me to the porch where Betty's still standing, arms crossed over her nonexistent chest, smiling at us. Nick lowers his voice to a whisper. "Don't do anything stupid."

  "You either," I whisper back.

  Betty snorts as we clomp up the steps. "Well, Mr. Colt. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

  "She's cooking," I warn.

  Betty swats me with a dish towel. "Spaghetti. What can I do to spaghetti?"

  Nick puts my bag just inside the door and actually looks scared. "That's okay. I've got a steak planned at home."

  "Fine," Betty winks at him and then winks at me. Nick blushes. "I'll let you two say your good-byes."

  "How embarrassing," I mutter.

  Nick laughs. Dimples crinkle up the skin near his lips. I will not look at his lips. How can he never have used those? That's a crime against humanity right there.

  "Bye," he says. "See you in school."

  "Bye," I say, and he walks away. The sun is pretty much gone. The woods are dark, tall masses that lock the sky to the ground. Anything could be hiding there. I watch him get in the car. I watch him drive away. The whole time I expect something to jump out, grab him, and take him away, a blood tribute. I shake my head. The taillights disappear around a curve.

  Betty's hand comes around my waist and I jump.

  "You're letting the cold in," she says, and she shuts the door.

  "So, John McKee's son has a ruptured appendix," Betty says as the water for the spaghetti boils.

  I put forks on the table. The tongs of my fork touch an old water stain that looks like a cloud on wood.

  "That's too bad."

  "It's more than too bad," Betty grumbles. "It means that I might get called in. We're the only paramedics in town. We're the only ones who can handle anything big. The first responders are just the drivers. They need John or me to deal with the big stuff."

  "So?"

  "So? So?"
She tosses the pasta into the pot in one big clump. Half of it pokes out above the rim. "So that means I have to figure out what to do with you."

  My words come out slowly the anger right beneath the surface, bubbling. "What to do with me?"

  "If I have to go."

  I push her out of the way, grab the pasta spoon tiling, and push at the spaghetti so it goes down beneath the boiling surface. "You can leave me here. I'm a big girl."

  "I don't want to leave you here alone."

  "Why?"

  "People get more depressed at night. Almost all my suicide calls are at night. We just want… we want you to be okay, Zara."

  I turn the heat off high so the water doesn't boil out of the pot, down to medium. "Is that why Mom sent me here? Because she thought I was going to kill myself some night?"

  Betty's eyelid twitches. "She was worried about you."

  "I'm a big girl," I mock. "I'm fine."

  "You miss your dad."

  "Of course I miss my dad!" I point the pasta spoon at her, which feels way too melodramatic. I put it on the counter by the coffee maker. "That doesn't make me suicidal. That doesn't mean I have to have some freaking EMT babysitter standing over me all the time."

  Betty's face crashes down but her thin, wiry body hardens up like she's made of steel. "Is that what you think of me?"

  "No. I'm sorry. That was mean." I swallow hard, look away from her hurt face, and turn back to the stove. I grab the stupid pasta spoon again and swirl it around in the water, pretending like it's really important that none of the spaghetti noodles stick together. "I could come with you if you have a call."

  She sighs. "That would work, maybe. But not if it's something complicated. You couldn't come into the building. You'd be sitting outside in the ambulance all by yourself. Plus, it's illegal."

  "Illegal?"

  "To have civilians in the ambulance."

  I turn up the heat a little more and face her.

  She smiles. "I could call that Nick boy and have him come over."

  "No!"

  "What? You don't like him? I've heard tell you and him and Devyn and Issie are running around all over town together. You went to the library today, right?"

  "You're spying on me?"

  "No. It's a small town. People talk."

  I shake my head, grab some glasses, and open the fridge. "You are not going to phone Nick."