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  She catches me watching them, and she finally gives me a hint of a smile, the faintest curving of the lips. She walks toward me, grabs my hand, and drags me back to the trail.

  When we reach a bend with easy access to the lake, she tests the water temperature. Even for me, used to unheated pools, it looks insane. The freezing water shocks her at first, which might have been her intention anyway. But whatever it is she is doing, it works. Skye walks barefoot in the shallow part for a few minutes, and she comes back from her personal tiny Antarctica with a relaxed smile.

  She puts her sneakers back on, and we get back to the path. Right then, I see someone who might put her mood over the top. I approach a skinny woman sporting short-cropped blond hair and a “Free Hugs For Everyone” t-shirt.

  Skye takes advantage of the woman’s written offer (in other words, I force her to hug a stranger). But it works. Skye lets go of the embrace with a giggle. A giggle!

  With Skye temporarily healed, we circle back to the parking lot.

  ***

  After spending a pleasant morning in the park, we stop by an ice-cream parlor. It’s great being free on a weekday, no times to meet, no places to go. The city is ours.

  I drive her back to her house, dreading the end of our day.

  “Do you want to go out sometime?” I blurt out.

  “What, like a date?” she asks, in a not-too-promising tone.

  “I guess,” I say, my newfound confidence already gone.

  “What did we just do?”

  Okay, it might have been a date, technically, but what I want to know is what’s next. Either she doesn’t understand me, or she’s avoiding the issue.

  I change tactics. “What about the party tomorrow?”

  “You mean, Priscilla’s party?” She looks at me. “Do you think it’s a good idea for me?”

  She’s got a point. She’ll have to face the school crowd eventually, but the school, where a code of conduct might better protect her from all the taunting I’m sure will take place, seems safer.

  “Let’s ditch the party then, and go out. Just the two of us,” I say. When I don’t hear an enthusiastic agreement, I strengthen my case. “It’s the perfect night, actually. We won’t even risk bumping into another Greenwood student in town. They’ll all be at the party.”

  She considers it for a moment, and then says, “Pick me up at seven.”

  Yes! I look at the road, but I can’t disguise the smug smile on my face.

  I don’t know what comes after that. I don’t have the practice. I’ll just go where she leads me.

  Chapter 14: Skye

  I arrive back home. From the front porch, the house looks different. I left this morning with the weight of the world on my shoulders, a bleak future ahead of me. Now I return, renewed, hopeful. Light.

  Waving to Drake as he leaves with the Volvo, I wonder what’s ahead. But I’m afraid to think about it and dismiss the thought. Let me, for once, enjoy the moment.

  I open the door and see Aunt Gemma straighten up on the sofa, her eyes red, her hair disheveled.

  “What happened?” I ask, alarmed.

  “Where have you been? I called your cell; I called the school!” She’s completely distraught, shaking. She stands up and walks to me.

  “What happened?” I repeat, my voice louder. I’m freaked out.

  She grabs my hand, squeezing it with such force I think my knuckles might break. “Your mother had a heart attack.”

  ***

  The other plane passengers must think I’m afraid of flying, with my hand-wringing and all. Aunt Gemma sits next to me. We’re still on the tarmac, but her sleeping pills are already kicking in. She’s terrified of flying, but she wouldn’t let me go alone. Even though she’s going to be passed out the whole flight, I appreciate the gesture.

  I rub my hands together. The pre-flight instructions make me antsy. All I can think of is death, death, death.

  My last call to London calmed me some. Judi, Goddess bless her, told me Mum was still unconscious but stable.

  I also remember the last time I talked to Mum: I hung up on her because she said the prank was no big deal. As it turns out, she’s right; compared to this, it’s no deal at all.

  Mum can’t die. She’s so full of life, with so many friends. True friends. It always struck me as a sign of her great personality that her past lovers are still good friends with her, even with the passion a distant memory. To her, lovers are just a special subset of friends.

  I feel a little warm inside. Mother was never shy of discussing her romances with me—when I asked. For somebody with her partying lifestyle, she did a great job of shielding me from her life. She would be open about it, but she never tried to imply her choices were the right ones. Or the wrong ones, for that matter.

  She raised me as best as she could, as best as her career would allow. In certain times, it was good: I had time alone and independence. But there were times when I missed her being a regular mum, a cook-you-dinner and tuck-you-into-bed fantasy mother out of a sitcom. We did go to the movies, but they were mostly premieres.

  Now her awards and her honors (she’s Dame Katherine Lexington-Ellis) are little comfort. She must reach into her other treasure trove—her friends, her Sisterhood—for strength and support.

  I pray to the Goddess.

  If Mum dies, my world is over. I’d have no relatives. The Mothers would no doubt welcome me as part of each of their families, but what would be the point? I know nobody of my own age, since I was a recluse from the time Connor left me. I have no old school friends, thanks to the globetrotting and the tutors. I’d be a ship without a port, cruising aimlessly, with no feeling and no purpose.

  I look at my cell again. Phones were the bearers of bad news today. Seattle was a bad news place. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.

  The elation of this morning is a distant dream now. Poor Drake. He never had a chance.

  There’s one more bit of unpleasantness to go through tonight. Before takeoff, my phone must carry one last mission.

  I text Drake, ending our stillborn romance.

  Chapter 15: Drake

  Skye’s gone for good. I can’t believe her text.

  It’s over before it started. Didn’t our day out mean anything to her?

  I know, I know; I should be worried about her mother. As far as I know her mother is the only family Skye has. I feel for her, obviously.

  Which makes losing her even more painful.

  Only one thing I know for sure I won’t regret doing or saying: I text her, saying I hope her mother gets better.

  It’s all my fault. What was I thinking? A girl like her and a guy like me? Not in a million years. At least, not something that would last.

  The emotions are overwhelming. Simultaneously, I feel anger, pain, longing, regret, disappointment, compassion. How should I feel? All, some, or none of those?

  We’ve never even discussed the weird thing she did in the woods, her with all the chanting and blood, me with the sizzling sensation. Maybe she’s into one of those New Age things and thought it might help. I’ll never know. I was so caught up in trying to get close to her that I never stepped back to look at what that day meant.

  Talking to her is pointless now. And I won’t acknowledge her dumping me. Maybe it will make things easier for her when she takes it back.

  Right.

  ***

  “Hey, Drake,” Priscilla calls me.

  She rarely talks to me. We’re from different planets. She makes her way through the throng of students. We have some time until the bell rings.

  “Hey, Priscilla.” Nobody calls her The Predator to her face, but she knows of the nickname.

  “Did Skye text you?” she asks. When I hang my head, she nods and adds, “Bummer, huh? She told me you guys skipped school together yesterday.”

  “Did you talk to her?” I ask, full of hope. I’m not even shocked Skye chose Priscilla, of all people, to be her confidante.

  “Befor
e she left,” she says, and the hope leaves me. Priscilla anticipates my question. “She’s not coming back. Sorry.”

  “Did she…?”

  The Predator looks at me, her eyes suddenly and unexpectedly understanding. “Do you want to hear it? Are you sure?”

  “I need to know,” I say.

  She pulls me by the arm, to a corner away from the crowd.

  “Okay, she didn’t talk much. Most of time she was crying because of her mother, and packing things in a hurry,” she says. “I got bits and pieces. I think she had a boyfriend she’s not over yet.”

  Priscilla looks at me to confirm she should go on. I nod.

  She says, “She told me the day you went out she had just received a call from him, and it didn’t go well.”

  The truth dawns on me. “She was rebounding.”

  “That’s my guess too. Are you all right?” It’s really odd, this display of concern from The Predator.

  So I was just at the right place at the right time. In other words, I was the first guy she saw after the boyfriend said whatever to her. “Hell, no,” I whisper.

  Priscilla moves to touch my face, but she catches herself and withdraws her hand. “It’ll pass,” she says, steely. “Go have fun. Are you coming to my party tomorrow?”

  I shake my head. “Sorry. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

  ***

  Later, Boulder and Sean see my hangdog face.

  “Why so serious, D-Man?” Sean asks.

  “Skye’s gone,” I say, simply. “Back to London.”

  Surprised, Boulder says, “Jesus, Drake, what’s wrong with you? At least you didn’t scare the girls away before.”

  Sean giggles. I’m not in the mood for laughs. I try to explain. “She had to go home. Her mother had a heart attack.”

  That stops Sean cold. “For how long?” he asks, respectfully.

  “Forever,” I say, being overly dramatic. “According to her text.”

  “You got dumped by text?” Sean says, snickering—back to his normal self.

  “She didn’t dump me. We’re not together, remember?” I regret the lie, but I realize I might not be lying after all.

  “You’re taking this pretty hard, man,” Boulder says. “You knew her for, what, a week?”

  They don’t know about my romantic day, and I want to keep it that way. I don’t brag about girls, maybe because I’ve had few opportunities to do so. In any case, I want to keep that day to myself, even if Skye sees it as an accident, a mistake. Mentioning it to the guys will cheapen it even more. But I have to justify my visible pain to them, or I won’t hear the end of it.

  “She helped me, you know, when I hit my head and all,” I say, lamely. They buy it, though, nodding their heads.

  “I get it,” Sean says. “But come on, D-man, we’ve got a party tomorrow!”

  “Hunting trip!” Boulder yells and high-fives Sean.

  “I’m not going,” I say. Their enthusiasm bothers me.

  Boulder stops and looks at me. “No, no. What you’re saying is you don’t want to go. But you are going.” When I open my mouth to protest, he pokes me in the chest. “You are,” he says.

  Chapter 16: Skye

  I hate hospitals. However, in one week, I’ve been to two hospitals in two different continents. Mum is in her bed, looking surprisingly good for someone who had a heart attack the day before. Maybe her Allure is working overtime.

  Aunt Gemma and Judi are in a corner of the room, silent.

  I’m relieved Mum’s doing so well, considering. Maybe joie de vivre isn’t just an abstract concept; maybe hers helped her turn this around. The concern remains, but most of the grim thoughts are in the back of my mind now.

  “You didn’t need to come back, darling,” Mum says, her voice betraying some weakness. Her hand clutches mine.

  “Of course I needed to be here, Mum,” I protest.

  “I’m glad you did, though.” She taps my arm with her other hand. Age is catching up to her. Slowly, because of her Allure, but nobody can stop time. Not even us. Her eyes still shine with youth, though, even after the scare. She takes a deep breath. “But your mission is important; you must go back.”

  “What?” What’s going on? I voice the same concerns I had before going to Seattle. “Why? We’ve been searching for almost two years now, and I’m just one of the Sisters planted in high schools over there. How can I make a difference?”

  The answer I received the first time was: we all need to do our part. Mum looks at Judi, who’s been by Mum’s side since she came to the hospital.

  Judi says, “We’re running out of time, dear.”

  “But I—”

  “But you, Skye,” Judi interrupts me, “are a great asset. True Sight is rare, and yours is powerful. We put you in one of the most likely places—where you can get a whiff of energy to put us on the right path.”

  “But now is not the time,” I say, pointing to my mother.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Mum says. “I have the best medical support money can buy. Also, I have the best alternative medicine available.” She winks.

  “Our coven is having a circle of prayer tonight for your mother. And I won’t leave her side,” Judi assures me.

  It’s hard to think clearly when the magical signatures Judi and Mum release are so intense. In closed quarters, the combined energy of the two Sisters is overwhelming.

  I shake my head. “Mum, I want to be here. You just had a big scare; you’re weak and alone. You need me.”

  “Alone? I have my Sisters and a house full of servants. I’m back home tomorrow,” she says.

  “I can’t leave. You just had a heart attack, and you’re asking me to leave? It’s not normal.”

  Mom shakes her head, a weak smile on her face. “And when did we have a normal life, darling?”

  ***

  I’m exhausted. Unlike Aunt Gemma, who slept through the whole nine-hour nonstop flight, I never closed my eyes. We went from Heathrow to the hospital, and now the sleeplessness is catching up to me.

  A cab takes Aunt Gemma and me to my mother’s house. I mumble hellos to the servants, who all express their concern about my mother. My old room awaits me. It feels familiar and strange at the same time. Mum and I were always on the road, in hotel rooms, in trailers. We rarely came back to the house. When she had time between projects, we went on vacations. To more hotel rooms. Nice ones, some close to beaches, some close to ski slopes, but soulless hotel rooms anyway. We always had this house, but we never had a true home.

  I see the flowers people sent her. It must be nice being beloved: friends, actors, directors, agents, studio executives, crew unions(!), and, of course, fans sent all kinds of mementos. Get-well cards, stuffed animals, pictures. Even the not so thoughtful ones—a recent heart attack victim certainly doesn’t need boxes of chocolates or bottles of scotch—have a certain sweetness to them. The flower arrangement Connor sent towers above all of them.

  Is it wrong that I resent it? That Connor cared much more for my mother than he did for me? I shake my head, feeling selfish and small.

  I go to my room, lie down, and close my eyes.

  Chapter 17: Drake

  Night comes, and of course my previous resolution is shot down. Boulder and Sean drop by to drag me to the party at Priscilla’s. It’s early, and we just hang out for a while. They tell me to follow them; no way they will climb aboard the Volvo.

  “Tell you what: you can drive us back. You’ll be our designated driver,” Sean says, sitting on the hood of my ride.

  “But then you’ll probably be passed out,” I point out.

  “Of course, Drake. No one would ride in this consciously,” Boulder says, tapping my car’s hood. He circles my car to have a better look. “What is that?” he asks, pointing to its lower side.

  “This is called faux-wood,” I say.

  He slides his finger on the side of the car, as if making sure the wood is really faux. He reaches the cargo area door and peeks
inside. “A wagon, D-Man? It looks like a hearse.”

  “Well, when you’re passed out, you can lie down in the back,” I say.

  Boulder says, “It’s brown… Or caramel? I don’t even know what this color is called—with wood paneling or whatever? Does your father hate you?”

  My oversized friend arrives at the front again and sits beside Sean on the hood. The Volvo’s front drops half a foot.

  “Dad wanted me to have a safe car,” I say. “It does have airbags and ABS, you know?”

  Sean says, “It’s not about safety, it’s about style, D-Man. And a car this old can’t be safe. How long have these airbags been sitting there? If they deploy, you’ll probably die of mold poisoning anyway.”

  I try to defend my wheeled friend. “This baby goes from zero to sixty in nine seconds.”

  Sean giggles. “Sure. On free fall.”

  “Even if it made it in nine, that’s not impressive at all, Drake,” Boulder says, shaking his head. I have no idea; it’s just a stat I read online.

  We kill some more time, and then drive in a convoy to Priscilla’s. I follow Boulder’s slick yellow Mustang. Night is falling.

  Priscilla’s house is bigger than I thought. I wonder why she doesn’t go to a private school. We ring, and Priscilla answers. “You’re early,” she tells us.

  “We wanted a head start,” Boulder says while going inside.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” Priscilla says to me. Boulder and Sean ignore us. They make themselves comfortable, opening the fridge and checking the food and the beverages.

  “I thought so, too,” I say, nodding in Boulder’s direction.

  “You have good friends,” she says. “Kind of pigs, but good friends.”

  I shrug, my hands in my pants’ pockets.

  She says, “How are you holding up?”

  “Haven’t thought of her until you brought it up,” I say.