“You asked who Samantha is.”
She opened her mouth, but no sounds came out. I saw the understanding click in her eyes. “You mean, Samantha is Karta?” She tried to laugh, but it fell flat. “Like, Karta’s her avatar? Her alter-ego? Or she’s just delusional?”
“No. I mean, Samantha Miller is actually Karta.”
“But we’re talking a mythological goddess, Jayne,” she said, her voice uncertain. “How can Samantha be Karta?”
I chewed my lower lip for a moment and then plunged onward. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound very crazy, Meredith. But I think you need to know.” I stared directly into her eyes, hoping to convince her of the truth. “Instead of living on in immortality, some of the old gods and goddesses chose to accept death. They gave up their powers to mortals, giving them the responsibility of carrying out their roles until those mortals choose to ‘retire,’ for lack of a better word.”
She just blinked at me. This was all going right over her head. Time for the practical application.
“Did you read about the goddess Dekla?” I asked.
“Oh, is that how you say it? I wasn’t sure. It’s such a strange name, I thought it was pronounced like ‘delta’ but without the T and with the L and T reversed. . . .”
“Dekla is Karta’s sister,” I interrupted, dragging Meredith back on topic. “Like Karta, she gave up her immortality in favor of letting her powers be carried on forever through mortals.”
“Why would anyone choose to do that?”
While an excellent question, it wasn’t the direction I wanted to go. “Not the point. What I’m saying is, there are two of them. Karta is only one side of the equation.”
“Oh.” Her head bobbed. “Okay, let’s assume for a moment that this is all true. You’re saying that Karta, the long-dead Latvian goddess, lives on in random people roaming the earth today. Right?”
I nodded. “Right.”
“And her sister Dekla? Her, too?”
I smiled, pleased that she’d reached that conclusion. “Yes.”
“So . . . does that mean we could find Dekla’s Facebook profile also?”
“You don’t have to.” I willed her to put two and two together. “She keeps close company with me.”
Meredith shook her head, looking a bit dazed. “I think I’m getting confused. I keep thinking this is a hypothetical situation, like ‘imagine if the sky turned red,’ or ‘what if we found the lost city Atlantis,’ but you keep talking about all this like you believe it, like maybe it could actually be real. And I can’t forget the deaths, the poems, my poem!”
I took a deep breath. “Imagine, for a moment, that this isn’t hypothetical. It’s real.”
Her brow furrowed. “Okay. Samantha is Karta. And you know Dekla? Pretty well?”
“You could say that. I have to stare at her in the mirror every day.”
Meredith gaped. “Is she your sister? Or does she haunt you like some kind of reverse vampire?”
I resisted a facepalm with great effort. “I’m Dekla.”
She looked at me blankly. “Run that by me again.”
“I’m Dekla. I’ve inherited the powers of a long-dead goddess. I’m still me, but I can do everything she was supposed to do too.”
Now she looked at me like she was trying to decide if I was crazy or just pulling her leg. “Let’s back up a bit. So if Samantha is Karta—”
“Well, I’m not sure if Samantha is Karta. But I think I know how to find out. Did you get a birth date yet?”
“Oh!” Meredith jumped in her seat and turned back to her phone. “Searching public records now.” She paused a moment as she scrolled down. “Well, Samantha Miller isn’t exactly an original name, so there’s lots of them.”
“Search the name and hometown listed on Facebook.”
“Right.” A moment later, she said, “That narrowed it down, but I still found about twenty right away. How do I know which one’s her?”
I clicked on Samantha’s profile, glad she hadn’t kept her birthday private. “Any of them born on December twenty-third?”
Meredith pressed her phone a couple of times, and then her eyes lit up. “Bingo! Got one.”
I clicked on Samantha’s profile picture, pulling up a bigger image. Then I stood up, my mind fuzzy with too much concentration. “Hungry?”
“I ate,” Meredith answered, and then she sank down onto the couch. “I don’t know what to make of this, Jayne. If you’re lying to me—”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“Then you’re either certifiably insane and I should run for my life, or you’re telling the truth, and the whole world as I know it isn’t actually right.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Crazy, huh?” If I were her, I’d think I was crazy, too. But I’d started having the visions when I was twelve, and it hadn’t taken me long to realize that what most people considered fiction was my reality. “You already know life has more facets than people realize. You knew you had the ability to manipulate people with your words. Almost like—”
“Like magic,” she finished, staring at the wall.
“Magic,” I agreed.
She straightened and met my gaze. “I’m inclined to believe you, Jayne Lockwood. If only because it makes me think I might be more than ordinary.”
Before I could respond, the front door chimed. It opened a moment later, and my mom’s voice carried down to the den.
“Well, this is a surprise, Stephen! What can I do for you?”
A hard knot formed in my stomach. His coming here was bad news.
“I was hoping to talk to Jayne. Is she here?”
Meredith looked at me, one eyebrow cocked. I forced myself up the steps into the living room. Mom touched my forearm as she passed me and settled herself on the couch again.
“Hey, Stephen. What’s up?” I paused, startled as always at how much weight he’d lost since his parents’ deaths.
“I thought you were coming over after school. Oh, hey, Meredith.”
I glanced at her, relieved at her presence. “I’m so sorry. Things got kind of busy.” And I’d completely forgotten I’d told him I’d come over. I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Hungry? I was just getting dinner.”
“I better go,” Meredith said. “See you two later.”
“Wait, Meredith!” I poked my head out of the fridge, panicking. I needed her to stay.
She was already going out the door. “I’ll call you later.”
Stephen turned and watched her go, then faced me as soon as she was gone. “Hey,” he said, coming into the kitchen and setting his keys on the counter. The familiarity of the gesture twisted my gut. “You okay? It’s not like you to forget.”
I tried to find the food my mom had left for me, but all the items blurred together. “I had some work stuff to do, been researching things . . .”
He pushed the refrigerator closed and stood next to me, a full head taller than I was. I stared straight ahead, feeling his eyes boring into me, and tried to ignore the heat of his nearness.
“Look at me, Jayne.”
I would not. I moved around him, putting the table between us, before lifting my gaze.
“Come on,” he said, leaning against the counter, exhaustion written all over his features. “Don’t be that way.”
I rubbed my arms, distraught by how much his presence affected me. Aaron wanted some space, and I—I wanted to be held.
But not by Stephen. “What way?” I feigned confusion. “I’m just—rearranging the chairs.”
He laughed. “You’re acting like you’re afraid of me. I’m not going to bite you.” He came up behind me and dropped a hand on my shoulder. I shoved the chair in so hard the table moved.
“Hey,” he said, his other hand dropping to my other shoulder. “Remember how you used to sit up in the loft reading while I worked? And then I’d join you on break with the latte of the day?” The twang of nostalgia entered his tone.
“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “You spilled the pumpkin latte all over my white dress.”
He groaned. “Of course you didn’t forget that.”
“It looked like someone puked on me.”
He was laughing now, too. “But I took it to the dry cleaner for you. Did you ever pick it up?”
Come to think of it, I hadn’t. After what happened, everything Stephen-related felt like torture, and I never wanted to see the dress again. “It was just a dress.”
Stephen paused. “I did everything wrong, Jayne.”
“You did some things right,” I protested.
“But I lost you. You were my friend, the one person I could count on. I miss that. I want that back, at least.”
He stood so close behind me. If I turned around, our faces would meet.
“I’m not sure how good a friend I can be.” I forced the words out of my closed throat.
He released my shoulders. “Sure. Sure, I get that.” He moved away, picking his keys up and tapping one on the counter. “Sorry to bother you.”
Just like that, he left. I pushed away from the table and watched out the window as he drove away.
“What was that about?” Mom called from the living room.
My face warmed. How much had she heard? I headed around the corner, threading my fingers together as I made eye contact with her. “He’s been going through a hard time.”
“I’m sure he has,” my mom said, compassion on her face. “But I haven’t seen him here since you two broke up.” One eyebrow shot up. “Did I miss a play somewhere?”
“No, no,” I said, quick to reassure her. “It’s just that, I knew him, you know? Back when his life was normal. I think I help him remember what it was like.” And what we were like. All the walking down memory lane wasn’t helping. I felt closer to Stephen now than I had in months. Closer than I did to Aaron.
The traitorous thought made my insides squirm.
Mom was still watching me, her photographs and house specs forgotten for the moment. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yep.”
I returned to the kitchen, finally getting myself that plate of food. Remembering everything Meredith and I had been working on before Stephen interrupted, I grabbed a notebook and sat down, trying to focus as I wrote out what we’d discovered about Samantha Miller/Karta. Taking a swallow of milk, I sent Laima a text asking her to confirm Karta’s identity. She could do that at least, right? I mentioned my idea to use Aaron to find out more about Karta, since Laima didn’t want me to contact Karta directly.
Without meaning to, my fingers pushed back the messages on the phone until I reached Aaron’s. He hadn’t said “taking a break.” He’d said “give each other space.” A week or two.
A hollowness filled my chest, and hot tears swam in my eyes again. So why did it feel like we’d broken up?
The food tasted like ash in my mouth. I dumped it in the trash and hurried upstairs.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
For some reason, calling Aaron took more courage than I expected. Our last phone call hadn’t gone so well, and after Stephen’s appearance, I was starting to feel like a two-faced girlfriend.
If I could even call myself his girlfriend.
Beth poked her head in to say goodnight. I echoed her greeting and stared at my phone, which remained ominously dark. Turning out the light, I slipped under the blankets, still holding my phone. Heaving a sigh, I pressed Aaron’s name. The phone rang four times, then went to voicemail.
I waited two minutes, then tried again, holding my breath. This time, he answered.
“Jayne,” he said, my name rolling pleasantly off his tongue, his voice hushed.
I closed my eyes, treasuring the sound. How could I make him happy with me again? “Why are you whispering?”
“I’m in the library.”
Because I’d been staring at my phone for so long, I knew it was almost ten. “Is that what I have to look forward to in college? Long nights at the library?”
He elicited a small laugh. “I have my own cubby now. Don’t even have to go home to sleep.”
His humor was a good sign, and my shoulders relaxed. “Wow, congrats?”
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell over us. I searched for more small talk and then gave up. “I have a really odd favor to ask.” I tried to say it casually, but my heartbeat kicked up a notch as I spoke.
“Okay.” There was no teasing in his voice now. Just wariness.
“There’s a girl on Facebook I want you to Friend.”
He paused. “What?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I hurried on. “I just need to know a few things about her, and there’s no way she’ll tell me.”
“Sounds like this might border on the realm of stalking, Jayne.”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that.” Not to mention, she was actually stalking me. “Just Friend her and let me see her profile. Please?”
“Why? Who is she to you? Did you See her in a vision? Is she a potential suicide?”
I needed to give him an honest answer, or he wouldn’t do this. “I think that she might be Karta. That’s all.”
“Karta? As in, your sister goddess?” Now he just sounded puzzled.
“Yes. So will you Friend her?”
“Why don’t you?”
I sighed. “She doesn’t appear to like me. She sent me a threatening letter.”
“She did what?” He kept on going even as I opened my mouth to respond. “Jayne, is she behind the suicides? Is she blackmailing people? What did she say to you?”
I blinked, instantly regretting my words. I should have played it down better. Judging from the volume of his words, he wasn’t in the library anymore, either. “Calm down, okay? It was just a poem.” I sensed somehow that if he knew the whole story, things would go downhill fast.
“A threatening poem? What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” I backpedaled quickly. “It wasn’t threatening, just—challenging. I need to check her out, find out what her angle is.”
Silence reigned for a moment. And then Aaron said, “Are you lying to me, Jayne?”
The question stabbed like a knife to my heart. “N-no,” I stuttered, my voice betraying me.
“What is going on, Jayne?” His voice boomed through the speaker, and I winced, pulling it away from my ear. “You only tell part of the story, manipulate the situation so people only see what you want to reveal. Who are you? No, you know what—I know who you are. Or who you’re becoming. And I don’t want to be a part of this.”
His words cut me. I staggered beneath them, literally aching. “I’m still me,” I whispered.
“I won’t help you. Do yourself a favor. Stay away from her.”
The phone went silent. I pulled it away from my ear and sat there, staring at it in stunned silence.
“I am Jayne,” I told it. Wasn’t I?
I closed my eyes. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure.
*~*
I heard Beth in our shared bathroom early the next morning, before my alarm even went off. Normally I’d hide under my pillow for another half an hour, but today I pushed myself out of bed, my head already aching from last night’s tear fest.
Beth had already dressed and was straightening her long brown locks when I joined her.
“Good morning,” I said.
She met my gaze in the mirror. “You’re up early.”
I shrugged and grabbed a toothbrush. I glanced at my reflection, wondering if I should grow my hair long before dismissing the notion. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Wish I had that problem. I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.”
“Hmm.” I acknowledged her with a nod and leaned over the sink to spit. “How are your friends these days?”
“We’re doing all right,” she said, putting down the hot iron. “I’m learning who I can really be myself around.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I know how that goes.” I wondered if sh
e remembered the time all the kids in school called me Crazy Jayne. No, she’d been too young.
Beth was still watching me, even as she started her elaborate makeup routine. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”
“Liar.”
A flush crept to my hairline. Now even my sister thought I was a liar? “Okay. Fine. There’s this girl I want to stalk on Facebook, but I can’t Friend her because she’ll notice.”
“Why do you want to stalk her? That’s weird.”
“Um.” Don’t lie. “I think she might be talking about me—or things that involve me—on Facebook. But she’s not friends with any of my friends, so I can’t see her posts.”
Beth stopped with the mascara wand and turned to face me. “Why would someone talk about you?”
I glanced at my reflection and noticed the way the white scar around my neck stood out next to the splotchy pink skin. I opened the drawer and pulled out a scarf.
Beth’s eyes followed the scarf as I tied a knot in it, and she frowned. “I thought everyone was done talking about that.”
Telling the truth was harder than I’d thought. “It’s hard to explain. I think she’s—jealous.”
“Well, you could always create a fake profile and try to Friend her.”
Duh. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “But will she just Friend someone she doesn’t know?”
Beth’s eyebrows rose as excitement colored her eyes. “We have to make the profile look real. It helps if you can manage to Friend some of her friends. Oh.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “It has to be a hot guy, too.”
We discussed various potential profile types as I dropped Beth off and hurried to Lacey Township High. Morning classes were a blur. My heart still hurt from Aaron’s words last night, and I distracted myself by working through that fake profile in my mind. Meredith nodded at me in class but kept herself busy and didn’t stay to talk after. I didn’t try to stop her. Maybe she needed time to process things. I rushed through my assignment in journalism third hour, then as soon as Ms. Baker turned her back, I pulled up a new internet window on my assigned laptop. Time to create a new profile.
Except the school board was one step ahead of me, apparently. Facebook was blocked.
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