Broccoli & Broomsticks_Nocturne Falls Universe

by Jennifer Fischetto

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  He’s turned his face and I’m staring at his profile.

  My first thought is he’s apologizing for the kiss. My chest tightens and a wave of sadness rolls over me. “For what?”

  “Trying to kill Gio Friday night. I was angry for what happened to Grandpa, scared because of the stories about Mom. I wasn’t thinking of how Gio has loved ones too.”

  I hold in a breath, relieved and floored by his admission. All the boys I’ve ever known don’t talk like this. My ex-boyfriend from last year barely formed complete sentences. That’s not to say I think all boys speak like Neanderthals. Most simply don’t verbally emote efficiently.

  “Thanks.” I’m taken aback and grateful, not sure what else to say.

  Grunting is still discernible but accompanied with the sounds of chewing.

  Malik must be confused about the noises too because he slides past me and peeks out the door.

  My body instantly becomes chilled and I already miss his warmth. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re in the corner, hunched over. I can’t make it out.” He returns to our spot but stands with a couple of inches between us. “Hopefully they’ll leave soon.”

  “What do you think started this? Any theories?” I ask.

  He looks to the storage bins and rubs his temple. “My grandfather.”

  What? That’s absurd. Isn’t it?

  “What do you mean?”

  “I keep thinking maybe it was an experiment gone wrong. He didn’t realize something was wrong until after he ate at the diner?”

  Is he asking me?

  “He’s a scientist?” I ask with a smile, expecting Malik to say he’s a retired janitor or librarian or something mundane.

  But he nods, shaking loose a held back curl.

  Oh shoot. “Seriously?”

  “He was a science professor back in his day. When he retired, he turned the dining room into a lab. He says he likes to dabble, but the table is littered with test tubes, a microscope and all kinds of vials and Petri dishes. The china cabinet where my grandmother’s dishes were has been replaced with file cabinets and a laboratory refrigerator. The room didn’t look like that when Dad and I was last here a year ago. It looks more serious than dabbling.”

  Wow. It makes sense, I guess. “It would explain how he knew something was wrong so quickly.”

  Malik rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was thinking about that too. If he’s not responsible, it could be that the strain changes. Let’s say Grandpa was the first victim. By time the fifth or tenth person was infected and passed it on, it probably already altered.”

  “Like playing Telephone Line.”

  A grin lights up his face and displays those adorable dimples. “Exactly.”

  “How do we find out?”

  “I hope he’ll tell us once his mind clears up. If it does. And if he doesn’t, Dad is looking through his work now and trying to decipher it.”

  “Does your dad know science too?”

  “Not as much as Grandpa but enough to get by.”

  The grunting isn’t audible anymore, so we both step to the door and peer through the glass.

  The yard seems to be empty. We glance to one another and then Malik opens it slowly.

  My heart feels like it’s in my throat, beating a frenzied rhythm.

  We tiptoe along, peeking around the hanging clothes. The yard appears to be all clear. We walk to the side, and I stop short.

  Malik touches my arm. “What is it?”

  I point to the small patch of garden in the back corner.

  There are scattered leaves and torn vines all over the ground.

  The once growing vegetables are decimated. It’s what the zombies were doing. Eating through the fruits and vegetables.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We make it to my house without any more incidences. The driveway is lined with cars, like Friday night. I glance at my phone and realize it’s a little after noon. Shoot. Sunday dinner. Hopefully I’ll be able to peek into the garage, find Nana and Mr. Zayid, and then make it off the property before Mom sees me and insists I eat with everyone. I should check on Gio too. Darn. I’m not making it out of here for a while if she catches me.

  We reach the side door as it springs open and Leo sticks his head out. “Where you been? I had to make the salad.”

  I roll my eyes. It’s not like he has any set chores anyway. Yeah, he works and is in medical school and is a special, magical unicorn. And no, I’m not referring to the actual shifter kind. Leo’s busy but one salad won’t kill him.

  I point toward the backyard. “We’ll be right back. I need to—.”

  “Is that Aria?” Mom sticks her head out the door. When she sees Malik, she smiles and pushes Leo aside. “There you two are. We’re about to eat. Come on.”

  Malik and I exchange glances before stepping forward. There truly is no way out of this. Hopefully Nana and Mr. Zayid are okay someplace—preferably the garage.

  We step into the kitchen and I stop short. Dad added the center leaf, elongating the table, which has been set for one, two, three…nine. Not only is my family all present and accounted for, including Gio and Nana, but Tomás and Mr. Zayid are also seated.

  Oh, this should be fun.

  Leo shows Malik to a bathroom to wash up, while I do it at the kitchen sink and then help Mom, Dad, and Cari bring the food to the table. I grab the salad I didn’t make and the already sliced loaf of Italian bread. I set them in the center of the table, toward the end with several empty seats, and take the one beside Gio.

  Mr. Zayid sits next to Nana, across from us. From my position, I’ll be able to watch both of their hands.

  “You okay?” I whisper to Gio.

  He still looks good, but I’m fearful he’ll start to wither if he doesn’t get a regular supply of veggies. I wish I knew how long he can go without. I’ll check out our garden and see what can be picked after dinner. Mr. Zayid looks the same as earlier, but not as good as Gio. I’m sure it has something to do with the amount of time he was infected without broccoli in comparison to Gio. I don’t know science well, but I do know food. Is it possible the ripeness of the veggies is the reason our garden broccoli tastes better than store-bought?

  The rest of the dishes are added to the table and Malik sits on the other side of me. Mom approaches with a bowl of peas and says, “I thought we had broccoli.”

  I look down to my white plate, not wanting her to see the guilt in my eyes.

  We spend the next few minutes piling our plates, and when the serving dishes are back in their spots, I notice Gio's and Mr. Zayid’s plates look similar to mine. All three are filled with salad, collard greens, and peas. Mine also has some spaghetti with marinara and a slice of bread.

  Gio's normally a big meat eater like Dad and Cari, and any other day he’d tear through the two whole roasted chickens Dad set down. So far no one’s noticed his food choices.

  Leo starts talking about his course load this semester while I eat and watch the zombies.

  Cari's head is mostly bent, probably not wanting to engage in a college or pregnancy discussion, and Tomás looks like he hasn’t a care in the world. Like he’s not sitting beside a zombie.

  Mom is to Malik’s right, at one head of the table. She glances to Gio's plate, and my stomach knots. If I make it through this meal without everything coming up, it’ll be amazing.

  “Gio, why haven’t you taken any chicken?”

  He looks from his plate to mine and the giant carcass sitting in the center of the table. His mouth hangs open just enough for words to come out but none do.

  “H-he’s decided to try being vegan for a week. I challenged him,” I say.

  It’s a good lie because they know Gio cannot resist a competition, especially with me or Leo.

  Dad raises his brows. “That’s interesting, especially for you, Gio.”

  My brother shoves salad in his mouth and nods.

  No one co
mments on Mr. Zayid’s plate. I guess it would be rude.

  Mom glances at it though and says, “It’s good to see you again, Fahim. It’s been a long time.”

  Wait, what? I assumed our families were strangers and Nana simply knew Mr. Zayid. “You guys know one another?”

  She smiles. “We go way back. Fahim was good friends with your grandfather.”

  Seriously?

  I turn to Mom. “Yesterday morning when you invited Malik inside, you knew who he and his family were?”

  “Not at first, but when he told me his last name, I remembered.”

  That explains why she was so friendly with him.

  Leo leans over the table to grab the salad at the same time Gio does.

  I watch Gio's hand move closer to Leo’s wrist and I shout, “No.”

  Everyone flinches. Mr. Zayid drops his fork, and it clatters against his plate. Dad’s eyes grow huge, and Cari lets out a whimper.

  “What is wrong with you?” Mom asks with a frown.

  Leo and Gio both lean back into their seats, neither of them getting the salad they want.

  When I don’t respond, Mom gives me a stern look, sets down her fork, and firmly says, “Well? You’ve been on edge every time I’ve seen you today. What’s going on?”

  “Is something wrong, Aria?” Dad asks.

  Leo stares at me with deep concern in his brown eyes. Malik places his hand on my thigh, down by my knee, and gives a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

  But I’m not reassured. In fact, I’m a nervous wreck. I didn’t realize how much until now.

  “Aria Nicola Ricci, answer me right now. What is going on with you?” Mom uses her Mom voice.

  “I don’t want to go to university,” I blurt out and then clamp my hand over my mouth when I realize what I said. Shoot. I didn’t mean to tell them this way.

  “What?” Dad asks.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I know this is what you want, Dad, but the idea of spending four years learning about history, biology, and English lit sounds boring and won’t help me with my career. It’ll be a waste because I’ll have to go to culinary school after I get my Bachelor’s.”

  My parents look to one another, and Dad clears his voice. “Okay.”

  Then he picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip.

  “That’s it?”

  Dad glances to Cari, probably thinking about her college decline. “Well, I’m not thrilled, but I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want. We can go over it all later. Okay?”

  A cheesy smile creeps onto my face, pulling the corners of my mouth up really high. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

  Luckily the rest of the meal goes by smoothly and without issues other than my parents throwing glances at Cari. They don’t want to discuss her pregnancy at the table or with guests in the house. I’m glad their focus is on her and not Gio or my college choices.

  When we’re done with dessert, Dad gives Malik and Mr. Zayid a ride home, while Cari, Mom, and I clean up. Gio and Tomás go to Gio's room, and Leo scurries off somewhere.

  After I finish loading the dishwasher, I head onto the deck. The night is cool, and I wish I brought out a hoodie, but I don’t feel like going upstairs right now. I’m tired. No. I’m exhausted, and I just want to stand here and stare at the garden. I need to go down and see what can be picked, but even that sounds like it’ll exert too much energy. Is it too much to ask for a calm evening? Tomorrow is school and while it’s only mid-afternoon, I’d love a Netflix marathon.

  Is it selfish of me?

  It’s not going to happen though. Not with a zombie in the family. As much as I want to veg, no pun intended, I want answers more.

  The back door opens and Cari steps out. She walks over to me and giggles.

  “What’s funny?” I ask.

  “You. Thank you.”

  “For what?” I’ve no idea what she’s talking about.

  “You bringing up culinary school means the spotlight is off me for a nanosecond, and I get a breather from their disappointed stares. It’s only been a couple of days, and I feel like I’m drowning in disapproval.”

  She obviously didn’t catch all of the glances Mom and Dad gave her during dinner. Feeling that way stinks though. I haven’t had time to put myself in her shoes.

  “And I’d like a minute to figure out what Tomás and I are going to do. Will we get married? Where will we live? There’s a lot to think about and decide.”

  I whip my head to her. “Tomás?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I stomp upstairs and into Gio's room, swinging the door open so hard it sounds like it cracks against the back wall. Luckily for my hide, it simply bounces and nearly shuts again. I push it until it clicks and turn to Tomás and Gio who are both wide eyed and obviously frightened.

  Good. They should be. Well, at least one of them.

  Gio's on his bed and a semi-sitting/on-his-back position and Tomás is sitting beside him on Gio's rolling desk chair.

  “Aria—” Gio begins.

  I ignore him and whisper shout at Tomás. “You’re Cari's baby daddy?”

  I didn’t think about it much while downstairs. I mean, I was more shocked than anything else, but hearing me say the words out loud now, they take on a whole new meaning. Cari and Tomás have had sex. My sister and the bunyip. My niece or nephew will be part bunyip. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s…well, weird, and the sex part is really eww. But any of my family having sex is gross.

  Tomás imitates a fish out of water with opening and closing his mouth and nothing coming out.

  Gio's brow furrows and he reaches over and slaps Tomás on the arm.

  We all simultaneously gasp and freeze as the realization hits us. One simple scratch can mean the end of living Tomás, and I really don’t want to tell my sister her baby daddy is dead, undead and vegan.

  I step closer and look at his arm. “Are you okay?”

  Tomás grabs his skin and twists his arm to get a better look.

  From what I can tell, there’s nothing there. No scratch, no line, no broken skin.

  We all take a collective sigh of relief, and I turn to Gio's dresser and yank open the top drawer.

  “Sorry, man,” Gio says. His voice wavers. As it should.

  I find his glove stash and pull a pair of black knit ones from the nest. I toss them at my brother. “Wear these. Always.”

  He nods and dutifully puts them on. The fear is evident in his eyes. And it makes me mad. Mad I’m standing here talking about babies and not out there finding answers.

  “I’m going back to the diner.” It’s the only lead I have. It isn’t much of one, but maybe I can find something out if I talk to whoever is working this shift. I plan on grilling every single person there. Including the patrons.

  “I’ll see you later,” I say and then turn to Tomás. “Keep an eye on him?”

  He nods and his floppy ears-hair moves with his motions.

  “And…welcome to the family. I can’t think of a better baby daddy. But just so you know, when all of this is taken cared of…” I point to Gio. “I’m gonna want details, like how long you and Cari have been seeing each other, and how do you feel about becoming a dad, and what are you intentions with my sister?”

  “I love her.“ His grin speaks volumes, and my heart fills with it too.

  That’ll do for now. The image of him and my sister still has me shuddering though.

  I take off and manage to escape the house without anyone seeing me. I consider asking to borrow Mom or Dad’s car, but I don’t want a lot of questions. Questions I’ll have to lie about. I hate lying to my folks. And the diner isn’t far. Normally, I wouldn’t think about driving there. I like walking around town. It’s usually either really quiet or entertaining depending on the time of year. Today, there’s terror mixed in with each step though. Too aware I can run into zombies, I don’t take shortcuts and stay on the main roads.

  I’m less than a
block away when I notice a cop car and a small huddle of people. I rush forward and make out Sheriff Merrow talking to several diner employees. I get closer and closer, trying to hear what they’re saying but staying in the shadows of the parked cars.

  I can’t make out much. Something about complaints about rose bushes being trampled on. That’s not bad. At least no one has been hurt.

  “What do you know, Aria?” Sheriff Merrow asks.

  Oh crap.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He pulls me to the side and asks me what’s going on. I’m torn between telling him the truth, getting it all out there because we could really use the help, and protecting my family. I don’t know what will happen if they find out Gio's a zombie. My fear flashes images of them locking him up or tying him down for scientific probing. Either way, it’s an outcome I’d like to avoid. So I lie.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His gaze pierces through me because he knows I’m lying. The disbelief is etched in the tiny lines around his blue eyes. “Then why are you here?”

  “I came in for a salad.” Yes, it’s as lame as it sounds.

  He holds up a sheet of paper. “Have you seen this young man?”

  I study the computer printed, black and white photo of a guy with a hard jaw and… Oh my Goddess, it’s Zombie Sire.

  Praying my realization didn’t cause my eyes to bug out, I clear my throat and shake my head. “I don’t think so. Who is he?”

  “Timothy McFarland. Does the name ring any bells?”

  I shake my head because it honestly doesn’t. “No. Should it?”

  “He went to school with Gio, and some eye witnesses saw Gio yesterday evening, walking past their homes.”

  I don’t make the connection. “And?”

  “He was near Mr. McFarland’s home. Has Gio seen him?”

  Oh, wow, that seems like a stretch, but is it possible Gio went to go see Timothy? Wouldn’t he have mentioned it this morning when he was feeling well again? “I don’t know.”

  “Right. I’ll have to ask your brother. Where is he now?”