Ashes and Ice (9 page)

“Oh, no, not really. She knew I had my eye on someone else…” His gaze passes over me. I can almost feel his eyes on my skin and it disgusts me.

“That poor thing.”

“Ouch, you really need to work on your people skills.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now will you please, get out of my way?”

“No.”

“Listen, I’m looking for…something.” I say. “I have to go.”

“What are you looking for?”

Exasperated, I tip my head forward and cradle it in my hand. “Jeeeez, please just go away.” Before I glare up at him, I catch sight of something at his feet. I plow forward and push him aside.

He fumbles backwards and drops his beer on the pavement. “Dammit!”

I ignore him and stare down at the chalk image on the ground. Red. An old red door with the numbers etched into the paneling of it. My door! I fall to my knees and splay my fingers on the chalk, hoping for something to happen—a pull, a tingling, an opening, lightning bolts—anything! But nothing happens.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dom grabs my arms and starts to pull me up.

I am so disappointed I don’t resist, but my eyes continue to scour the chalk image until I see the artist’s name: Alathea Bordeaux of Crescent City Books. When I see the tag, I also notice flying books painted around the door. I don’t see it for long, because Dominic steps back in front of me, his huge hands grasping my shoulders.

“Hello? Are you drunk or something?”

“No, I’m not drunk.” No bookstore would be open now. I have to come back. I swallow hard. I will have to cross the lake again. I reprimand myself. Who cares! I found a clue! My first clue since I started searching. I will cross a thousand bridges if I have to. I’ll come back.

I shrug off Dominic’s hands and whistle as a cab drives by. It doesn’t stop. I step onto the pavement and twist around looking for another one.

“Looking for a ride?”

I don’t answer.

“You aren’t going to find many cabs out now.”

I think I see the yellow of a cab and run a bit further down the street until I realize it is just an ugly old yellow car.

“Listen, let me give you a ride home.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you and you are drunk.”

“I am not drunk.” He said, “And why don’t you like me?”

I roll my eyes. “Listen, just leave me alone, okay?”

“Okay, let me make myself perfectly clear: either I am going to give you a ride home now, or I am going to pester you and wait with you until you get a cab.”

I ignore him and start down a side street to see if I can find any cabs there. It gets darker fast without the bar lights. I hear Dom’s steps behind me and I rush back into the Quarter feeling less vulnerable in the street light.

Dominic grabs me and wraps his arms around me, tight and too close.

“What the hell are you doing?” I say, but I don’t push him away. I stare at him and see the stubble on his chin, the smooth arc of his nose, and the tilt of his mouth smirking at me.

“See how vulnerable you are out here by yourself?”

His arms are cool against my skin, he feels like rain on a hot day—refreshing. But like the rain, it clings to you, exposes too much. I pull away, ashamed it takes so much effort.

“So I’ll keep annoying you until you stop being stupid and just let me drive you home.”

Exasperated, I say, “Fine. Just shut up and take me home.” I don’t look at him. I’m just as surprised I said it as he is. He pulls out his keys and unlocks a red corvette a block down.

“Give me your phone.” I say to him.

“What?” He looks startled.

“I want to have a way to call 911 if you decide to rape and murder me on the way home.”

He laughs and tosses his phone to me. “Sure thing.”

I dig my fingers into my thigh and brace my forehead in my other hand as we approach the bridge.

“So, Jade, I was thinking that maybe we should…” The bridge spans out before us, my muscles tighten. I close my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dominic. I have a killer headache and would prefer if we just drive.” Clenching my forehead must be convincing enough because we don’t talk the whole way other than to give him directions once we get closer to my house. I ask him to stop a few blocks down the road. It will just feel too weird if he brings me to my front door. I don’t want him to know where I live, even though I’m sure, in a town as small as this one, he could find out whenever he wants.

“You live here?”

“Yeah, I live right around here.”

He’s quiet for a second. “You just don’t want me to know exactly where you live, right?”

“Something like that.”

He nods after a few moments and stops the car.

I jump out, happy to be on solid ground and out of his car. “All right. Thanks for the ride.” I stand there and wait for him to pull away.

He just sits there stalling for a minute before smiling and changing gears. “All right, Jade. I’ll let you go home.” He revs up the engine. “But I want something else from you.”

“And what—what is that?” I think of boys demanding kisses in movies and my glance drops to his lips before shifting away. Repulsion and…temptation twine in my mind.

“My phone.”

“Oh—” I am disappointed and not sure why. “Here.”

He winks at me and drives away.

I crinkle my nose.

I enter the house quietly and lay under the covers. I squeeze my eyes and hold tight onto the image of the chalk door. I will use the internet tomorrow to check out where the bookstore is and when it is open. It comforts me, and before I know it, I fall asleep.

“Sure thing, kid.”

I head for the door.

“Hey, where you going?”

“Uh, just out for a while. You won’t be back till this afternoon right?”

“Yeah.” He kept his eyebrow raised, “But since when do you go out?”

I roll my eyes at him before closing the door behind me.

I groan. I will die if it’s Dominic checking up on me. “Thanks.” I know it sounds harsh. As I walk by Nanan, I give her a kiss on the cheek before heading downstairs. It’s not her fault idiots dwell in the world. The frown is fixed on my face as I swing open the door.

“Oh, Connor!”

He looks at first surprised I acted as if I were expecting someone else, almost worried and then he looks content I am relieved to see him. “Hey, Jade. Can I talk to you?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” I step outside and close the door behind me.

“I just wanted to say sorry—“

“What? Why are you saying sorry? I’m the one who woke you up in the middle of the night demanding a ride.” I feel terrible for causing his guilt. I see it all over him. He’s slumped forward even more than usual, his eyes cast down as if ashamed.

“No, but, I—“

“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “I need to apologize. I’m so sorry. I mean, I freaking hit you in the face with a rock.”

That made his lips turn up in a small grin. “Yeah, you have a good arm. I’m surprised you didn’t break my window.”

I put my hand on his cheek so I can see his face. He stiffens and I feel I crossed some boundary I wasn’t supposed to so I drop my hand to my side. I can’t read his expression as his shoulders relax back into their typical hunch. “It looks like you’ll survive.” I start for the porch steps. “I am actually on the way to the library.”

“The library? On a Saturday? Aren’t you suspended?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. I’m not going for school, I have some things I need to look up on the internet.”

“Oh, I see.” He stands there, awkward.

“Do you want to go with me?”

He brightens, his face changing into something open and honest. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, don’t you sound excited about the library.”

He fumbles a step. “Well, I…”

“Bored?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Oh and I was coming by to let you know I can give you a ride to New Orleans next week, probably even on Monday.”

I nod slowly. “Cool, I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if I need a ride.” I have no idea when the bookstore will be open. I also think it is better for me to go alone, but I don’t want to cut off any options.

Connor looks confused. “It seemed pretty urgent last night…”

“Oh, yeah, well…” I don’t want to tell him I went to New Orleans yesterday. I also don’t want to tell him Dominic gave me a ride home. I’m not quite sure why, but I feel like he would be disappointed in me and I don’t want him to feel that way.

I glance over at him. He’s so slumped over he almost looks like a C shape. I fall in stride beside him, suddenly aware of his mass. I take in the details of his frame for the first time. He’s all earth tones: brown and gold. Not the extremes though, a mix of the colors so gradual, so blended, I can barely see the gold glimmer in his hair and the flecks of sun in his eyes. I jab two fingers into the place right under his shoulder blades.

He flinches forward, arching his chest up and his back straight. He flashes me an accusatory look. “What the hell?”

“Oh! You are tall! I could never tell with you hunched over like a decrepit old man. Question one: Why do you stand like that?”

“Are you seriously criticizing my posture?”

“Of course not. Why would I do that? Seeing as how sexy eighty-year olds are nowadays.” I grin.

He starts to say something then swallows it. “I—don’t know.” He finally says.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t, uh, like to…”

“Be noticed?”

He’s quiet. It’s as if the truth is too shameful to admit aloud, but his silence confirms it.

“You know, you never told me why you came here. And what are you doing living with Nanan?” He says suddenly, changing the subject. I already see him start to hunch again, but I let it go.

The story unfolds in my head. It plays out in a choppy, bullet-point summary. I woke up in the woods with no memory of my past. I lived there lonely and afraid. I saw a dead girl in my woods. I had this treacherous urge to taste her blood, to break and destroy her. It scared me. I ran away. I hit the city and the lights slammed into me before sputtering away. I was pulled around the country by some strange magnetic force. It dragged me everywhere. The trail stopped in this little swampy town. I crumbled at a river dock, desperate and alone and then an angel—of the old, round variety—plopped down beside me smiling warmer than the sun itself and offered me a place to stay. Nanan. Now I am searching for a red door and a perhaps real, likely imagined, old man who will help me piece my world together.

I am not about to repeat this story. “Short version. My parents are dead and my foster parents are horrible. I ran away, got tired of traveling, and though I was planning on just passing through on my way to New Orleans, Nanan saw me, chatted me up, and demanded a nice girl like myself must have a decent place to stay so she offered me a room in her house and I took it.”

“Nice girl, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

He awkwardly reaches his arm behind his back, trying to rub at an unattainable spot. “I’ll remember that when I’m explaining this bruise on my back to my mom.”

Jade mulls it over, staring at the screen, her eyebrows still pinched together. “So, you know about this lady? This Alathea?”

“Not really. Just know she owns the store.”

“That is where I need to go. I need to meet her.” Jade says, her voice serious.

“Uh, okay. For what?” As soon as I say it, I see her narrow her eyes slightly and crinkle her nose. She doesn’t like me prying. “Well, let’s check the website. She keeps weird hours, I think.” Why had dad gone to see her? Research for an article? I couldn’t remember.

I lean over the keyboard and type in the address into the browser. Dark, creepy music plays softly over the speakers as pictures of the store flash on the screen. I can barely believe the place has a website. The photos look like a cross between a voodoo and a new-age hippie shop. I click on the hours and, sure enough, there they are: SAT, SUN, MON, TUES: Closed. WED: 6-8pm. THURS: 1pm-12am. FRI: 5pm-7:30pm.

“Wow, you were right. Those are weird hours.” Jade stares at the screen. “I can’t believe they won’t be open till Wednesday.” She sits back in the chair, disappointed.

“Yeah, I think she goes out and does séances or tarot readings or something.”

Jade nods as she writes down the hours and address on a piece of paper. She starts to scoot out before she stops and asks me, “Connor, if you see something written in another language and don’t know what language it is, can you, I don’t know, still find a way to translate it?”