Captivate (9 page)

Handing him his brace I say, “I think this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

And it is.

“Now I can finally start doing the things I want to do,” Devyn says.

That stops me. “Like what?”

Devyn just smiles. Cassidy clears her throat and gives him her own little hug. “I am so psyched for you, Dev.”

Issie’s backed up against the wall. Her hand is on her throat. She looks away.

“Thanks,” Devyn says.

They pull apart and Cassidy starts scratching at the back of her neck. “I knew this would happen.”

The way she says it stops me short. It’s almost eerie, but she whirls off before I can say anything.

“We are all late,” she says over her shoulder, still scratching. “Congratulations, Devyn!

Let me know if you need a ride home.”

We all head toward our first period. For a tiny bit Nick doesn’t talk about protecting and pixies and pain. For a tiny bit his shoulders relax and he smiles, and it is that very moment that I realize how hard all of this is for him.

Tears spring to my eyes and I’m not sure why. I think it’s just that I don’t want Devyn to ever get hurt again. I don’t want any of us to ever get hurt again.

Spanish class used to by my least favourite part of the day. It’s not because the entire room reeks of our teacher’s lilac perfume and my nose always goes instantly stuffy. It’s because of this girl Megan. Megan used to sit diagonally in front of me and every so often turn and glare. Then she’d whisper something to her friend Brittney, and they would witch cackle. Even though she’s not here anymore, it still feels like she is.

I breathe out, such on the edge of my pen, and make a list.

ILLEGAL
THINGS
WE’VE
DONE
AND
WHY

1. Betty killed Ian because he tried to turn me pixie by kissing me.

2. Megan disappeared, so Mrs. Nix forged her transfer papers, which is okay because she was not just a mean jerk, she was a pixie.

3. We trapped all the pixies in a house because they would have kept killing.

Okay, it’s not
that
long a list and I feel a tiny bit better even if the crimes do include murder, forgery, and mass kidnapping. I fold the list up and tuck it into the back of
The
House of the Spirits
. I start translating again, but I am really thinking about how my grandmother has killed, low I have trapped, how there is a history of violence that exists and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m in Amnesty International. I mean, I care about human rights. But what about pixie rights? They are kind of human. And what do you do when the world has no clue that they exist?

I’m getting nowhere with the book so I pull out a new piece of paper and start working on the pixie handbook, scrawling in an entry that I’ll type into Devyn’s of Gram’s laptop later.

TOP
TEN
THINGS
TO
REMEMBER
WHEN
DEALING
WITH
PIXIES

10. Think pixies are like Tinker Bell? You think wrong.

9. Pixies do not hang out with Peter Pan.

8. Pixies do not sleep in glass jars nor do they carry magic wands.

7. Pixies hate iron and steel.

6. Pixies will call you by name and try to get you lost in the woods.

5. Pixies are great fighters; they use claws and teeth.

4. Pixies can look like human. They are not human.

3. Pixies may go to your school or work with you. We have no idea.

2. Pixies have needs.

1. Never let a pixie kiss you. Ever.

“Zara? Atiende usted?” My Spanish teacher eyes me. She’s right at my desk, smiling sweetly. Her dark brown hair is up in a high ponytail. She arches an eyebrow.

“Yes…yes. I mean, si,” I try to correct myself. I hit me head with my hand and the book flops closed. Brittney giggles.

“Usted no traduce el libro.” She taps her finger on my half-empty page for emphasis.

“Usted esta mirando por la ventana.”

I wasn’t translating. I was looking out the window. Guilty as charged. I try to think of something to say and can only come up with sorry. “Lo siento. Lo siento.”

I am sorry, only I’m not just sorry about not paying attention. I’m sorry that pixies exist and that my existence puts my friends in danger. I am sorry about everything.

The moment class ends everyone jumps up and escapes into the hall, a bunch of cattle in the wild west running from one pen to another. We bump and jostle and finally each get our own personal space as we try to get to our next class. Someone grabs my good elbow. I yank it away screaming.

“Baby? What’s up?” His face is a worried ball of cute.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m edgy,” I say, trying to calm down.

“Are you scared about the…” He doesn’t say the last word because there are people around. He jams his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “We haven’t found him yet, but I will. I swear.”

The bell rings. “We’re late,” I say, trying to look away, but I can’t. His eyes are so brown beautiful. I brush a piece of dog fur off his deep blue shirt. He’s got a sort of half jock, half skater look today. I like it.

He shrugs a little. “Mrs. Nix will give us a note.”

He tugs my hand and pulls me into the stairwell. We sit on the landing by the top stair.

Callie bullets by us. She smiles. “Lovey lovebirds.”

We smile back as she scampers down the stairs. Her Mohawk waves from our heating system’s way-too-powerful forced hot air. There’s a big puddle of slush on the floor just to the left of my feet.

“So, are you worried about the pixie?” he asks again.

I shrug, so I don’t have to answer.

“Zara? Are you worried?”

“A little.” My voice is a quiet breath in the stairwell.

He moans a little bit, a half growling, half sighing kind of noise. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Zare? We work better when we’re a team.”

“We’re a good team.”

“Yeah. We are.”

For a moment neither of us say anything. I close my eyes against the flickering fluorescent lights, against the ugly gray staleness of the stairwell. I would like to take Nick around Charleston, show him the Battery, watch the dolphins frolic in the river, laugh at the tourists coming off the cruise ships wearing their matching outfits and fanny packs, buying as many sweetgrass baskets as they can scarf up. Cassidy rushes by, her long legs taking the stairs two at a time. She stops abruptly when she sees us. She doesn’t look at me, only Nick, and her mouth drops open. She gasps and staggers down a step, grabbing the railing for balance.

I jump up, ready to lunge around and catch her. Nick leaps up right behind me.

“You okay?” I ask.

She closes her eyes for one long second. When she opens them they are filled with sadness. “Yep. All good. Just startled. Yeah.”

She scurries off still muttering in sentence fragments.

I sit back down, pat the stair next to me so Nick will sit too. “That was weird. I hope she’s okay. She was staring at you.”

“I have that effect on the ladies,” he says all lounge lizard. “I make them stagger and run away.”

“Oh really?” I turn and try to raise my eyebrows at him. His fingertips move from me ear to my chin, following the line of my jaw. Something inside me aches with need and want and all those things, all those human, hormonal-normal things. He smiles and leans in, kissing me. I kiss him back, hard and long and good. When he finally breaks away his eyes are soft and passion filled, darker than their normal rich brown.

“You are too much,” he says.

My hand flattens out against his chest. His heart beats beneath it. One beat. Another. A steady rhythm of life, of comfort.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” I manage to say, and then I duck my head.

He gently lifts my head back up so I can face him.

“You won’t ever lose me.” His voice is husky.

“Swear?” I whisper, but even that one whispered word is a gulp that threatens to yank me into a dark hole of loss and despair and—

Nick’s fingers stroke my skin. “I swear.”

The school cafeteria is an octagon-shaped room with the lunch counter and kitchen on three sides, the doors in and out a fourth side. The rest of the walls are windows and an emergency fire exit. The white of the snow combined with the fluorescent lights make it ridiculously bright in here, which is not a good thing.

Is and I get bagels in the lunch line. They come on paper plates with plastic knives.

“Not environmentally friendly.” Issie makes a little tsking noise and slides her ID

payment card through the machine.

Gisell Brown, who is behind me, says, “I have been protesting about that forever.”

She shakes her head and her dreadlocks fly all around. She’s got an old tie-dye Grateful Dead T-shirt on. She is one of the few people who always come to my Amnesty International meetings on Wednesdays and therefore I love her even if she does occasionally swear at the dictators when she writes. Whatever. We can’t all be perfect.

And if you’re going to swear at someone a dictator is a good choice.

Giselle leans toward Issie and says, “What’s up with Devyn and Cassidy?”

Issie freezes. “What do you mean?”

“She’s all over him. I thought you two were a thing,” Giselle explains.

The paper plate Issie is holding shakes. “No. No. We’re not. We’re just friends.”

“Oh. I won’t hate her on your behalf then.” She smiles at me and then scrunches her nose. “It smells like butt in here.”

The lunch lady looks up from her supervisory duties and bats her eyelashes. “That’s not butt, that’s cabbage.”

Giselle jerks backward, fumbling. She drops her banana. I grab it before it hits the floor.

“Oh! Oh! I didn’t mean that meanly. I am so sorry. I am really, really—”

The lunch lady points a white Bic pen at Giselle. Her hair net wiggles to the left a little bit. “Hush up. I think it smells like butt too.”

I slide my card through and head to the table with Issie. It’s a small four-seater with a puke pink top. Nick and Dev are already chowing down on pizza. I scoot into the seat next to Nick.

“Hey, baby,” he says and kisses me. His breath smells like pepperoni. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I open up my bagel with one hand.

“Giselle just told the lunch lady that it smells like butt,” Issie says just as Giselle walks behind her.

“I didn’t mean it meanly!” she insists, still shaking her head. She plunks herself down at a table with Callie and some other kids who are into art and theater.

Nick spreads cream cheese on my bagel for me because it’s hard to do with one hand.

You need to hold the bagel and everything.

“You are the nicest boyfriend ever,” I tell him and kiss his cheek.

“Gag,” Devyn says.

“You’re just jealous,” Nick teases him and points his plastic knife at Devyn. “Which is ridiculous because you are
the star
of the school now that the wheelchair is totally gone.

Everyone is talking about you.”

“Star of the school?” Devyn asks. He takes a swig of Gatorade.

“All the girls.” Nick gestures to the girls giggling behind them. “They like miracles. It’s sexy. Remember how much play Jay Dahlberg got when he came back from being abducted?” He does not add by
pixies
because he does not have to.

“Really?” Devyn does this cheesy and really fake eyebrow wiggle thing so he looks like some sleezy porn dog.

Issie makes a gasping squeal noise and drops her water bottle. The cap wasn’t on and it splurts everywhere, all over the table and our plates. “Oops! Oops! Sorry.”

She tries to wipe up the wetness with her sleeve. Nick gives her napkins while I jump up and grab some more. Water’s dripping off the table onto the floor.

“I am such a klutz,” Is says, frantically dabbing at things. “I am so sorry….”

Devyn grabs her hand in his. “Issie, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

She freezes. Their eyes meet. Their hands are still touching.

She whispers the word, “Sweetheart?”

It’s like all the air and all the noise has gushed out of the cafeteria. Nick and I and everyone else are just silent witnesses to the movie that is Devyn and Issie.

Nick starts smiling super big and I know that I am probably smiling the same way.

Issie’s mouth, however, has dropped into a stunned O. Devyn lets go of her hand and reaches over and closes her mouth by gently touching the bottom of her chin.

“Kiss her!” Callie yells. “Kiss her!”

A couple people start chanting it.

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”

Issie’s face turns bright red. She squeals for real and stands up. She flies out of the cafeteria so fast that for a second I think she must be the one with the pixie blood.

Devyn’s face, unlike Issie’s, drains completely of color. People start murmuring and sighing, obviously disappointed. Nick grabs the disgusting clump of soggy napkins off the table and says, “You’ve got to do it, man. She’s totally in love with you.”

Devyn shakes his head. His eyes are hard. “I can’t.”

It takes me a second to respond. “You better not like Cassidy, Devyn, because I swear I will kill you.”

“Cassidy?” His voice is numb.

“Dude. Everyone’s talking about it,” Nick says.

“I don’t like Cassidy,” he says.

“Then stop flirting with her.” I stand up. “Flirt?” Devyn looks at Nick, probably for help. “Yeah. Flirt. You’re always with her. She’s giving you rides to school. You’re always talking about her and messaging her,” I protest.

“I don’t have the vaguest idea how to flirt. I’m a nerd. We have no social skills.”

I can’t believe him. “Well, you are flirting up a freaking storm, Devyn.”

“Zara, take it down a notch,” Nick says. “You sound jealous.”

“Do not tell me to take it down a notch,” I say, and we glare at each other. “You can be so patronizing sometimes.”

He looks away first.

“I’m just trying to figure Cassidy out.” Devyn wipes at his hair, ignoring us.