Perennial (7 page)

A small yellow
envelope with my name written on it in black marker waits for me on the
driver’s seat of my Explorer when I leave Zeppelin. There’s no sign of forced
entry into the vehicle, so I have no clue how the tiny package arrived. I check
the back of the SUV to make sure nobody’s hiding there. All clear.

I
get in and start the engine, savoring the chilly air as the air conditioner
cools the hot, sticky interior. The envelope is sealed. I press on it in
different spots. It feels empty. I decide to open it using my thumbnail to
break the seal.

I
don’t see anything at first, but as I poke my index finger around to widen the
inside of the envelope, I see what looks like purple powder at the bottom. I
adjust my glasses and squint for a better view. Sure enough, that’s exactly
what it is: purple powder, about an inch of it, loose and dry. I waft my hand
from the open end of the envelope toward my nose. The substance has no smell
that I can detect.

I
freak for a few moments and reseal the envelope as I remember news stories
about politicians and some of their staff people getting sick and sometimes
dying from opening mail laced with poisonous powders. Thankfully, I feel fine
after a few deep breaths, so I place the envelope beside Aruna’s knife in the
beverage holder and drive home.

I’m home before
five, and the next few hours seem to last forever. Dad texted that he’d arrive
home later than usual, meaning anytime after ten and before sunrise. Lewis
texted that he has a car we could use, which is perfect, because if Dad’s
working the Watkins case there’s a good chance he’s in or near Oval City and
would recognize my Explorer in a heartbeat. I figure if we leave at eight we
should be home by ten. Besides, I’m basically thinking of tonight as a scouting
mission, a quick trip to get the lay of the Oval City land.

I
try doing math homework to pass the time, but that’s pointless because I keep
looking at the silver knife and yellow envelope, constantly thinking about
Aruna, London, William, and Lewis. The whole idea of school seems trivial in
comparison to my emerging psychic abilities and my commitment to solve
William’s murder.

Despite
the danger that awaits us in Oval City, I can’t stop thinking about how
attracted I am to William and Lewis. I mean, William Weed is a ghost! It’s
impossible to have a real relationship with a ghost! William can be my Dream
Guy anytime he wants, but I need to try and push aside my thoughts about him
and focus on Lewis. Lewis Wilde is real. He’s a living, breathing, beautiful,
gorgeous, and godlike human. He’s strong and disciplined too. I respect him for
getting himself clean and off of drugs when he was at the alternative academy
as a freshman.

I
wonder what drug or drugs he was on. Cocaine? Heroin? Weed? Wait. Can you be
on
weed, or do you just say you smoke weed? Do you
do
weed, as in
do
drugs?

God,
Alix, you’re such an innocent person when it comes to illegal substances. Like
using that term right there, “illegal substances.” Who says that besides cops? There
you go. Dad’s influence again
.

Anyway,
I bet Lewis got into a lot of fights when he was on drugs. I know there’s a
body full of muscle beneath those long-sleeved V-neck tees he wears. I bet he
looks amazing with his shirt off, maybe even better than William. Maybe.

As
crazy as it sounds, I start to think of tonight’s trip to Oval City as my first
date with Lewis. I’d considered wearing some sort of basic disguise just in
case we come across my dad, but now I realize I want to look as good as
possible for Lewis. My heart felt like it was about to bust out of my chest
when he called me sweet, beautiful, and wholesome in sixth hour today.

I
spend the hour between seven and eight doing something I’ve honestly never done
before: trying to make myself attractive to a guy. I figure it all starts with
the hair, but what can you do with short, spiky dark hair besides make it …
well, short, dark, and spiky? So I ditch the hair and remove my glasses. I
actually think my brown eyes aren’t so bad. I’m no London Steel, of course, but
I make a note to ask Dad about getting me checked out for contact lenses. Until
then the chunky black frames stay on my face, because life is one big, blurry
movie without them. As for makeup, it’s out of the question: my face breaks out
whenever I wear it.

God,
I am such a loser.

My
only real option for changing my appearance is clothing, and this is where I go
to my closet and make a decision to try something new and very un-Alix-like.
London looked absolutely stunning in her tight, stylish black outfit. I don’t
own anything like that, but Mom bought me some things a few months before she
died, things I’ve never worn. She was a big fan of denim, so I try on the faded
denim skinny jeans she thought I would like—skinny jeans complete with
strategically placed tears in the knees and lower thigh. They’re tight but
surprisingly comfortable. I want Lewis to see that I actually have legs, and
these pants definitely have a sexy fit. As for a shirt, I go with a dark denim
button-up with long roll-tab sleeves, button cuffs, and a curved hem, leaving
the top button undone just to remind him that I’m a girl. When it comes to
shoes, I have to go with black Chuck Taylors, because I have a feeling running
is common in Oval City.

Lewis
knows my dad isn’t home, so he knocks on the door at eight. He’s punctual. I
like that. I slide Aruna’s knife into my back pocket, liking how the back hem
of the shirt conceals the sheathed weapon. I open the door, and we stand there
for a few awkward moments, the two of us staring at each other. He’s still
wearing what he had on in school, but it doesn’t matter. With those hypnotic
eyes, that dark, wavy hair, and pale, exquisite face, he can wear anything and
look good. He steals a glance at my pants and then quickly returns his gaze to my
face.

“You
look great,” he says. “Good call on the Chuck Taylors too.” He smiles and looks
over my shoulder. “Are we leaving right away?”

I’m
speechless and feel like a fool for not inviting him in.

“Oh,
here,” I say, turning sideways. “I guess we have a few minutes. Come on in.” He
leaves behind the smell of mint and a light soapy cleanliness. Perfect. I look
outside to an empty driveway and street. “Where’s your car?”

“Down
the street.”

“Why?”
I say, the door closing behind me.

“Isn’t
it obvious?” He stops and turns in the middle of the spacious living room. “I
didn’t want your dad to see it.”

“What
if he pulled up right now?”

Lewis
shrugs. “Then I guess you’d have to hide me.”

I
stare at him and feel afraid of what I need to tell him.

“Alix,
it was a joke,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“Lewis,
Aruna’s alive.”

There’s
a silence.

“What?”
he finally says. “How do you know?”

I
tell him all about our encounter and fight in the parking lot behind Zeppelin,
leaving out the psychic parts, including Aruna knowing I’m psychic and
communicating with William. I also leave out the parts about Face having powers
and me seeing Aruna’s inevitable death, although I do tell Lewis how awful she
looked.

“Do
you know her family?” I say. “Is there anybody we can tell?”

“Aruna’s
older,” he says. “She’s at least twenty-two by now. I don’t know much about
her. She was Willis’s girl, not mine. She’s been on the streets since she was a
kid. Willis said she ran away from a sicko stepdad. I’m glad she’s alive, but
it sounds like she’s Face’s slave.” He pauses. “How did she know you would be
at Zeppelin?”

“I
have no idea,” I say, which is true, but I’m fairly certain Face had something
to do with it. “But it looks like I have my weapon.” I withdraw the knife and
show him before quickly tucking it back into the sheath.

“Okay,
this is pretty huge.” He rubs his forehead, Lewis thinking hard about
something. “If Face sent Aruna to intimidate you, it means he’s afraid of you,
which means you’re not telling me everything, because Face isn’t afraid of
anybody.” He stares at me. “What are you leaving out, Alix?”

“Nothing,”
I say, hating the feeling of lying but knowing I’m not ready to tell him
everything yet. As with Dad, if I start babbling to Lewis about psychic visions
and a violent world of evil demons and courageous human warriors … Well,
I’ll have no chance with him. “Maybe Face knows about my dad or something. Or
maybe somebody in sixth hour heard us talking today and told Face.” I pause.
“The Mercedes could have followed me and dropped Aruna off on the street as I
pulled around back. That would have given her time to hide on me.”

He
considers all of that and seems to accept it. Good.

“Okay,
so what’s your goal tonight, Alix?” he says. “Why are we going to Oval City?
Have you even asked yourself that question?”

“Of
course,” I say. “We’re going to Oval City in search of proof that William was
murdered. Based upon that obscure blog post I came across yesterday, combined
with what you’ve told me about William and today’s run-in with Aruna, I think
Face killed William because William had information that could bring down
Face.”

“I
agree,” he says. “But what do you expect to get tonight? Do you think you can
just go around asking for Face in Oval City and find him? Even if you did, what
then? Do you just walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Face, I know you killed William
Weed. It’s time to turn yourself in’?” Lewis shrugs. “Look, I admire your
courage and sudden determination to solve William’s murder, but you have to
think things through. If not, you have a good chance of getting hurt. Or worse.
Personally, I don’t see why you won’t tell your dad everything you know.
Especially now with the whole Aruna thing.”

I
lose it and yell, “I don’t need my dad right now, okay, Lewis? Stop talking
about him. Please!” He stares at me, expressionless, as I take a few deep
breaths and finally calm down. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not saying we need to find
Face and solve the mystery tonight. But I need to see what the area looks like.
I need to know where William hung out. You know Oval City. I trust you to show
me what I need to see. Nothing more for tonight.”

“Okay,”
he says, nodding. “That’s better. I can do that.” He raises his eyebrows and
clasps his large hands together in front of his waist. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,”
I say, nerves already rocketing through me. “But there’s one more thing you
need to see.” I point toward the kitchen behind him. “Somebody put a present in
my Explorer when I was in Zeppelin. It’s on the kitchen table.”

I
follow Lewis into the kitchen, where he picks up the yellow envelope and gives
me a look before opening the flap and examining the contents. Seconds later he
closes the flap, drops the envelope onto the table, and backs away. It’s the
first time I’ve seen him look afraid.

“What
is it?” I ask.

Looking
quite vulnerable, Lewis says, “Alix, the thing about being a recovering drug
addict is that you’re a recovering drug addict for the rest of your life.”

“That
purple powder is a drug?”

“Oh,
it’s a drug,” he says. “But not just any drug.” He points at the envelope. “The
purple powder in that envelope is more addictive than cocaine, meth, heroin, or
anything else I’ve ever tried. I’m surprised I was able to beat it. Most people
get hooked the first time they try it and never quit. That’s what happened to
Willis, Aruna, and who knows how many others around here.” He shakes his head.
“They couldn’t beat it, and it destroyed them.” He looks at me and says,
“Whoever gave you this wants you to try it. They want you hooked too. So you
have to promise me you’ll never try it.”

“I
promise,” I say. “Lewis, I’ve never done drugs in my life. I’m not about to
start now, especially with something like that.” I study the envelope. “What’s
it called?”

There’s
a long silence.

Then
Lewis says, “That purple powder keeps Oval City and Face in business. Rumor is
Face invented it, but nobody knows for sure.” He takes another step back, as if
the envelope might come to life and attack him. “You wanted to know what
Perennial is,” he says, studying me and pointing toward the envelope. “Well,
Alix, you’re looking at it.”

“A drug,” I
whisper to Lewis. “Perennial is a drug.”

“Bingo,”
Lewis says, still eyeing the kitchen table as if it’s a violent monster. “And
the stuff in that envelope is pure. I can tell by the color and texture. People
started calling it Perennial on the streets because the high lasts so long,
like a permanent high. And it’s such a good high you want it to last forever,
which means you have to always have more.
Boom
. You’re addicted before
you know what hit you.”

“Perennial,”
I say, recalling the definition. “Permanent. Present at all times.”

“Face
is the kingpin,” Lewis says. “He’s got a monopoly on something that’s about to
go viral. Last I heard, the only way to get genuine Perennial is to buy it in
Oval City, which means if they took the trouble to put it in your car, Face or
somebody is afraid of you.” He walks toward me and does something that both
surprises and thrills me. He takes my hands in his own and stands less than a
foot away. “Alix, I’m going to be honest and tell you that part of me wants to
snort everything in that envelope right now, which is why you need to take it
and flush it down the toilet. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure.”

“Like,
right now,” he adds, giving my hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them and
heading to the safety of the living room. “I’ll meet you outside. We need to
leave.”

When
he’s safely out front, I do exactly what he asked and flush the small yellow
envelope full of Perennial down the toilet of the first-floor bathroom. The
purple powder reminds me of grape Kool-Aid as it swirls and disappears down the
porcelain bowl.

“So what does it
feel like?” I say. We’re hustling down the sidewalk to wherever Lewis parked
his car. The night air is cool but humid, the street quiet on a Wednesday
night. “The Perennial high, I mean. What’s it like?”

“It’s
hard to explain,” he says, scanning the neighborhood. “What’s the greatest
physical feeling you’ve ever had?”

“I
don’t know,” I say. “I feel good most of the time. I suppose you could say I
enjoy a natural high.”

“Come
on, Alix.” He groans.

“What?”
I say, nudging his elbow with my forearm. “I’m not very exciting that way,
okay?”

“You
have a knife in your back pocket that you took away from a girl who was trying
to stab you. I’d say you’re exciting.”

“Well,”
I say, smiling, “that might be true, but you’re looking at somebody who doesn’t
drink, smoke, or do drugs, remember? I don’t know what any of that stuff feels
like.”

“Fair
enough,” he says. “Then what was the happiest moment in your life?”

“Hmm,”
I say, thinking. “Not to sound corny, but the happiest moment in my life was
probably two years ago when I took a summer trip to Niagara Falls with my
parents.”

“You’re
kidding, right?” he says, laughing.

“No.
I’m not.”

“Wait
a second,” Lewis says. “Two years ago? You were in high school and went to Niagara
Falls with your parents?”

He
continues laughing, but in a sweet way that makes me smile.

“I
know,” I say. “It’s not very teen-angst-like of me, is it? Look, what can I say.
My parents are pretty awesome.” Lewis’s laughter fades to silence. He is surely
remembering that my mom is dead. “Have you been there?” I say. “To Niagara
Falls?”

“Not
yet.”

“It’s
beautiful,” I say. “The falls are huge—even bigger than they look in pictures.
People say the Statue of Liberty always looks smaller in person. Niagara Falls
is the opposite. There’s this tourist boat called the
Maid of the Mist
that takes you right up to the falls. They give you a plastic poncho to wear,
and you need it because the mist really does soak you. Anyway, there was this
moment on the boat where I just stopped and watched Mom and Dad’s mist-covered faces
as they took it all in and smiled at each other. I’d always known they loved
each other deeply, but the looks of happiness on their faces that day made me
so happy to have them as parents.” I feel warm tears rolling down my face and
wipe them away. “Then Mom and Dad looked at me looking at them, and we all
laughed and shared this incredible moment. Nobody said a word, but the feeling
of love in our family on that trip is something I’ll never forget for the rest
of my life.” I wipe more tears away. If Lewis notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“It was the last time we took a trip together. One year later she was gone.”

Lewis
takes my left hand in his right and squeezes gently as we walk.

“I’m
sorry,” he says. “But at least you have the memories. Those will never go away.
I envy the hell out of you, Alix. Most kids don’t talk about their parents like
that.”

“I
know,” I say. “Believe me, I know.”

“So,”
Lewis says, “imagine this. If you could take that moment on the boat, the
happiest moment of your life, and make it last forever, you sort of get the
idea of what a Perennial high is like. That’s how good the stuff is.” He stops at
the quiet corner of Maple Grove and Covington, where a run-down black Ford
pickup rests in front of a stately house across the street. “There’s my truck.”
He takes the keys from his pocket and jingles them. “Looks like it’s showtime.”

“Is
it yours?” I ask as we cross the deserted street.

“My
grandpa’s a retired Ford engineer and has a lot of cars. He tinkers around on
them all day.” Lewis unlocks the doors with the key-chain remote. “Don’t let
the looks of it fool you. This thing runs great. He called it his Detroit
truck. It’s the only thing he drove if he had to go into the city. He made it
look beat-up on the outside so nobody would ever think of stealing it.” Lewis
shrugs. “It might not look very Beaconsfield, but it’s mine until graduation.”

“I
love it,” I say.

We
get inside the truck, where the smell of cleaning chemicals greets us. The
interior is pristine and like new. Lewis starts the engine, which comes to life
instantly and also sounds brand new. Lewis’s grandpa sounds like a cool guy, so
I make a mental note to ask Lewis if I can meet him soon.

Right
now, of course, we have other business to tend to.

“You
were wrong a minute ago,” I say as Lewis pulls forward and makes a right onto
Maple Grove.

“About
what?” he says, playing with the radio before powering it off completely.

“About
the Perennial high,” I say, glancing at the passenger-side mirror and noticing
a pair of headlights far behind us. “I don’t think any man-made drug can ever
replace the natural power of love. At least not the kind of love our family
had.”

Lewis
doesn’t respond to that. It’s silent for a few minutes. A few turns later, I
notice the same car still trailing us.

Lewis
notices too. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and says, “I think somebody
is following us.”

The
vehicle is closer now, maybe a hundred feet back, headlights almost blinding as
they reflect off of the glass.

“Speed
up and turn on the next street you see,” I say, heart pounding. “But use the
opposite turn signal.”

“What?”

“Just
do it,” I say. “It’s something my dad taught me.”

Lewis
accelerates, doing at least forty-five in a twenty-five zone. The vehicle
behind us speeds up and gains some ground on us.

“There’s
a right coming,” Lewis says, activating the left-turn signal.

“Make
the turn at the last possible moment, okay?”

“Alix,
what if it’s a cop?”

“It’s
not,” I say. “I can tell by the headlights.”

Lewis
does as instructed, hitting the brakes hard just before turning right onto
another residential street lined with enormous yards and large homes. Moments
later the mystery vehicle makes the same turn at high speed.

“Shit,”
I say. “We’re in trouble.”

“You’re
sure it’s not a cop?”

“Trust
me,” I say. “Besides, the lights and sirens would be on by now.”

“He’s
going too fast,” Lewis says. “There are little kids around here.”

The
vehicle is fifty feet away and closing quickly.

“Just
breathe, okay?” I say. “Whatever you do, don’t pull over. You need to get to a
main road and park in a public place full of people. Can you find one fast?”

“No problem,”
Lewis says, eyes darting to and from the rearview mirror and the road. “But
what if he—”

“Watch
out!”

Lewis
never sees the stop sign as we approach the residential intersection. The last
thing I see is another pair of headlights to my immediate right, followed by a
brief glimpse of a car colliding head-on with the rear passenger side of the
truck, the awful sounds of metal grinding against metal ringing in my ears as
we spin out of control.

Then
it falls eerily silent inside the truck as everything fades to black.