Burning Emerald (19 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Burning Emerald
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“No. I'm fine, although my mom is going to a group.” I watched his feet, clad in Italian leather, tread over my friend's splayed arm and hair. The sofa hid the rest of her, so I was spared from seeing her face, her brows furrowing in pain at the foot crushing her hand.
Get off of her! Can't you see her laying there? Move!
I wanted to say, but it would only prove what I already knew, what my parents feared, and what Ruiz probably suspected.
I was losing it. Fast.
Silence dominated the room. The seconds crawled along as we faced each other like a pair of gunslingers. Sweat beaded my forehead as the man began to take on a skewed, funhouse mirror impression. I looked around the sitting area, noting how the furniture seemed to look flat as cutouts in a pop-up book. Whether it was the room or my own disorder, I had to get out of there.
Remembering my manners, I turned around and asked, “Did you want something to drink?”
“Sure. What you got?”
I counted the list of options on my fingers. “Water, iced tea, soda, purple stuff, Sunny D.”
“Tea would be nice, thank you.” Still holding my picture, he took a seat.
My hands shook as I wiped the clamminess from my palms. I waited until I was in the privacy of the kitchen before I freaked out. What was I going to do? And what was taking Mom so long? This guy wasn't going to let the subject drop, and sitting at the scene of the crime didn't help my neurosis at all. Taking long, measured breaths, I wiped the tears from my eyes. While pouring the man his tea, something moved to my left. As if my day could get any worse, Tobias loomed at my back door in a cloud of bad karma.
I opened the door and lo and behold, my nemesis stood there looking good enough to eat, in a gray turtleneck sweater and designer jeans.
He leaned against the doorjamb and struck a pose. “What's wrong?”
“What are you doing here?”
“You're upset, and for once it's not my fault. I had to see why.”
My gaze dropped to my sneakers. “I'm not upset.”
“Again. Tears. Thunder. Loud. Annoying. So why are you upset? Better yet, what's Magnum P.I. doing in your house?”
“The second that becomes your business, you'll be the first to know,” I replied.
“You know he's been following you for about a week now, right?”
“And you would know that how?”
“Because I've been following you, too,” he answered with such coolness, as if violating a girl's privacy were part of a balanced diet.
“Well, at least now I know to request a restraining order.” I tried to shut the door, but he held out his hand.
“I don't trust that guy. There's something off about him.” Tobias craned his neck to see behind me. “He makes you uncomfortable as well—I can feel it. Why is he here?”
“He's still investigating Nadine's murder.”
“I thought it was open and shut.”
I shrugged. “Apparently not.”
He frowned. “Let me talk to him.”
“What? No. I'll handle this.”
“Come on, Flower, I can get through his wall better than you can. I'm telling you, this guy is crooked somehow. He knows something, and I don't want him alone with you. Let me in.”
I didn't want to be alone with Ruiz, either. Just the thought of going back into the living room made me throw up a little in my mouth. However, with Tobias here, my stomach churned for a different reason of which I didn't care to explore. I didn't own the courage to do this alone and Tobias, in his sick, self-centered way, was willing to help.
“Fine. Come in.” Knowing this would come back to bite me later, I stepped back from the door and waited.
He studied the four sides of the doorframe, then took a deep breath. “There's oil on the threshold. I can't come in.”
“But I just invited you in.”
His eyes slowly rolled up to meet mine. “Wrong folklore, sweetheart. I need to cover the oil. Good thing I came prepared.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Ziploc bag full of powder. “Here, pour some of this over the door.”
Taking the bag from him, I examined the strange gray dust. “What is it?”
“It's a neutralizer that will counteract the oil. Now pour it down.”
I did as instructed and spread it around evenly with my foot. Once done, Tobias placed one foot over the border, testing the area, then stepped inside. He sighed in relief, loosened his limbs, and cracked his neck. “Okay, where is he?”
“In the living room. Are you going in there like that?”
“Don't worry about me. You just make yourself scarce. You giving him that glass of tea?”
“Oh yeah.” I reached out and grabbed the glass. When I turned around, I nearly screamed. Tobias had morphed again, in one of the most disturbing transformations yet. Precise from head to toe stood an exact duplicate of myself, right down to the outfit.
He took the glass from me. “If you want to listen, keep out of sight.”
I just watched, dumbstruck, as he left the kitchen. No mirror could capture the full detail of seeing yourself, and I had to pull my eyes away. This reflection moved independently and allowed me to take in the full dimensions of its form. However, from this angle, my butt wasn't as flat as I'd suspected.
 
This whole body-swap thing turned out to be a bad idea, and why I'd gone along with it was beyond me. I didn't know what bothered me more, that I had allowed an incubus in my house and let him impersonate me, or the fact that my mom couldn't tell the difference. One hug from Tobias had her grinning, all stupid and weak at the knees. He would make a fortune as an actor, because he rendered my smile, my hand gestures, and the inflections in my speech with haunting accuracy.
The party moved to the kitchen, where Mom unloaded groceries and prepared for dinner. As my life played out before my eyes, I hid from sight, a tricky exercise while trying to eavesdrop. If Mom wasn't zipping around the kitchen, Ruiz kept leaving the room to answer his cell phone every ten minutes. I ducked and hid around corners, mindful of the paradox of time travel: The past and the present can never meet and two of the same matter could never occupy the same space.
Of course, Tobias saw me and hid his smile with a cough, ignoring my signals for him to scram. I finally gave up and sat at the top of the stairs, listening to myself talk during the most awkward dinner ever. To add insult to injury, it was Taco Night and Tobias was eating my share.
I was a second away from revealing myself when Tobias stood up from the table. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He made his way to me. His eyes, or more accurately,
my
eyes
, grew wide with that have-you-lost-your-mind look that was my calling card. “What is wrong with you? You could've exposed the both of us.”
“I can take it from here. Thanks.” I tipped my head in the direction of the door.
“It was just getting good.”
“Well, it's always good to leave a party early. Now get lost.”
He eased me toward the kitchen, out of view of the dining room. Leaning in, he whispered, “I pulled some of his energy, but his memories are under lock and key.”
“What does that mean?”
“He's blocking me. Takes years of practice to be able to do that. Which means he knows about us. He knows what we—correction,
what you
—are.”
“What?” This was just great. “What do we do?”
“I don't know, but it's your problem now.” He moved to the back door.
I pulled his arm. “Wait.”
He turned to me with humor. “Stay, go, come in, get out. You really know how to play with a guy's head.”
“What should I do?”
The smile melted from his face as he caught the fear on mine. “For one thing, act normal and stop looking guilty. You haven't done anything wrong.”
Wow. That's a big help. Staring myself in the face didn't improve my mental health, either. Under closer inspection, I caught him peeking behind the eyes, making the color appear more hazel than green. “Yeah, great. You can go now.”
My doppelganger grew an extra foot and a half and lightened in complexion. If I'd blinked, I'd have missed the morphing process. Tobias, in his cruel deliciousness, backed away toward the door with his bottom lip poked out. “Aw, so soon.”
He wasn't moving fast enough for me, so I pushed his chest to help him along. “Get out and take your fairy dust with you.” I handed over his personal effects, then snatched it back. “What is this powder anyway? Is it magic?”
“It's not magic nor powder. It's ash.”
Holding the bag to the light, I examined it closely. “Ash? Like from a fireplace?”
“Something like that.”
I didn't like the sound of that. Knowing I would regret it, I asked, “Where did you get it?”
He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Remember in the cafeteria, I told you I spent the night with a widow after I left your house?”
I struggled to recall. “Yeah. You slept with her and made her believe that you were her dead—OH MY GOD! These are her husband's ashes!” I dropped the bag on the floor and wiped my hands on my jeans.
This wasn't real. There was no way this guy had brought dead remains into my house. No one was that sick. For a moment there, I forgot who I was talking to.
“That's the only thing that could break the barrier. Your oil sanctified the entire house. I had to desecrate the dwelling to enter.”
“With a dead guy?” I asked while trying to keep my voice down.
Snickering, he picked up the bag and tucked it in his pocket. “It's not a corpse, Samara. It's just the ashes.”
My body shook in disgust, fighting the urge to coldcock this dude straight in his grill. I'd seen enough death to last a lifetime, and even Nadine would agree that this was way too morbid. Oh my God, I actually touched it! There's only so much a girl can take, and I stood a breath away from losing my mind or my lunch, whichever came first.
“Get out!” I hissed through my teeth.
He had the nerve, the complete and utter gall, to look upset. “Calm down.”
I nearly fell back in a dead faint; blood pounded around my temples. “Calm down? Really? What reason do I have to calm down? My boyfriend is in a coma, my mom's flipping out, my best friend hates me, I'm failing government and trig, I'm being shadowed by the cops, and now I've got dead man crumbs all over my floor. Get. Out!”
He had the inhuman strength to fight me, but he didn't, and one good shove sent him into the chilly night. Just when I was about to shut the door in his face, he said, “Oh, one more thing you might want to know.”
“What?” I bit out the word.
“Ruiz has a crush on your mother. Huge. And the feeling is mutual. Good luck defusing that bomb.” Whistling, he trotted down the back porch, leaving me stock-still by the door.
18
W
elcome to Beat Up on Samara Week in Williamsburg.
First up to bat was Mom, and the lady was a heavy hitter. She didn't overlook the ditching school thing, but whatever charm Tobias had used on her cushioned the blow. Plus, she seemed too starry-eyed and dizzy over Ruiz to ground me. I didn't trust the man and was highly grossed out by their courtship, but I appreciated his help in dodging that bullet.
Mom seemed impressed by my new interest in housecleaning. After dinner, I dumped the ashes outside, buffed the kitchen floor to a shine, painted another coat of oil over both entrances, then soaked my hands in rubbing alcohol for an hour before going to bed.
Once again, Lilith added her two cents, curling, flipping, and practically digging a hole in my back. I didn't know if she was hungry or pining for Tobias, but whatever it was the result was another restless night.
The energy from Tobias made her spoiled, greedy for more than what I was willing to give. We had both fallen off the wagon as far as food was concerned, and it was up to me to take back the reins and resume control. Tobias was a one-time trip to the buffet for Lilith and a lesson that I would never forget. I just had to get her to agree with me.
Things didn't improve in school. Girls gritted their teeth, sharpened their nails, and cracked their knuckles. Whispers grew louder behind my back. Jason Lao tried to keep the gossip under control, but the web was a lawless terrain with no conscience or master.
Tobias found any excuse to talk to me in the hall, but I kept ducking that fool as if I owed him money. On the day our class pictures returned from the studio, I was forced to look at him, by means of the wallet-size photo that landed on my desk. I peeked over my shoulder and caught Tobias passing out autographed pictures to the rest of his harem.
It didn't surprise me that my photo looked like a criminal mug shot, but Malik's senior picture had me wincing for a different reason. Perhaps it was due to the entire image casting a soft glow like those Glamour Shot photos at the mall. Or it might've been Tobias's dead-on impression of Derek Zoolander's “Blue Steel” pose.
“I know you saw it,” he whispered in my ear. “You should have seen your face on Picture Day. It was priceless.”
Time went still when he was this close to me, yet the world around me progressed in natural speed. Mr. Frasier went on with his lesson, students took notes and texted under the table, and Mia slumped over her desk, not even trying to stay awake.
“What exactly did I see on Picture Day?” I asked while keeping my eyes to the front of the classroom.
“Something only demon eyes can see. It only happens in harsh light. No need to lose sleep over it, Flower. We have plenty of time to know each other.” His breath, a light flame, licked at my earlobe, neck, and shoulder. I gripped the desk and rode out the wave of heat that reached down to my shoes. Each day, the fire took longer to die down and its burn left me exposed to the elements. I counted the seconds until class ended, not that it would do any good.
I wasn't the only one with problems. I caught Dougie at lunch, hoping to get friendly advice, but got another earful of heartache. His new plaything had decided to change schools, and he suspected Mia's harassment had something to do with the sudden transfer. He seemed to be pressed for time, eating half his food while still in the lunch line.
“Yo, SNM, you better get your friend. I mean it—she's friggin' crazy and I'm done!” he said, grabbing two slices of pizza from the warming pan. “I'm trying to be the bigger person here, 'cause this is just getting dumb. So I go over Mia's house and bang on the door until she talks to me. Next thing I know the door opens, and I get hit upside the head with a can of soup. Soup, Sam, soup.”
I scooted closer, trying my best not to laugh. “Was it chicken noodle?”
“No. Cream of mushroom. Could you focus please? Anyway, I'm sick of it. You know how many girls would love to get some of this?” He rolled up his shirtsleeve and flexed his bicep to a rhythmic beat. “Check it out. Pow! Yeah, that's what's up.”
I had to admit, it was impressive. I guess wolfing down protein shakes and rolling around on a gym mat with sweaty guys worked wonders.
Dougie took a bite of his pizza and slid his tray down the line. “But girls around here are too scared to approach me now. I gotta step up my game. Enough about me. How's Caleb?” he asked. “Does he know about you and Malik Davis?”
Oh, great. Not this again.
“There's nothing going on.”
“Sam, I may not be an honor student, but I ain't stupid either.” He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You've been all kinds of shady, don't deny it. We're in the same lunch and you never sit with me. Who does that?”
“I know, I just ... look, there's a lot going on.”
“And we mere mortals are too dumb to understand, right?” he replied. “Because we don't notice all the guys that follow you around, or why you never talk about that girl that died in your house this summer. We're just too stupid to notice how your brown eyes look real fake.” He inched closer. “I can see the tiny rim around the whites of your eyes. You never wore contacts before.”
I stood frozen in shock. Was my transformation really that obvious, or had I been underestimating my friends? “I'm sorry, Dougie. I wish I could tell you what's going on, but ...”
“Nah, it's cool. You got your reasons. Just don't get too caught up in the bullshit and forget the people around you, is all.” He handed the cashier a crumpled five, then turned to me. With a mouth full of greasy cheese and crust, he said, “Listen, I gotta go. I need to meet the coach before lunch is over.” He snatched up his half-empty tray, and in a moment, he was gone.
That afternoon, my report card came in the mail, confirming that I was, in fact, failing government and trig. Not wanting to be left out of this communal stoning, Dad rolled up and threatened to hold my new car for ransom.
“It seems only fair that since you no longer want to attend Howard next fall, you won't be needing the car I spent my hard-earned money on.” Dad treaded the kitchen floor, clutching a copy of my transcript, which Mom had faxed to his office. Snitch.
Mom usually played “good cop” during these interrogations, but she was slacking on the job big time. She was parked in front of her laptop, chatting with her new squeeze about live ammo. Only Mom would agree to a date at the gun range and find it sexy.
“Don't argue with your father, sweetie” was all she offered to the conversation.
Knowing I was on my own, I tried to reason. “Daddy—”
“Don't ‘Daddy' me!” he barked. “You know how important education is. You're ruining any chance of a future running around behind some boy.”
I almost fell out of my stool. “Whoa! How can Caleb be a bad influence while in a coma?”
“You spend all your free time with him and it's interfering with your schoolwork.”
This debate was going nowhere, so I cut my losses and did damage control. “I'm sorry you feel that way, but unlike Caleb, at least I'm awake to apologize. I don't know if he will ever open his eyes again. Besides, I haven't been to the hospital in a week!”
Whatever he was about to say had been cut off and he lost all his steam. “Samara, I know how you feel about him, but take a moment to see things from where I'm standing. I just wish ... I ... Just talk to me, baby girl.” He wore that look again, that confused mask of unfamiliarity, struggling to match the face with the name. The longer he stared at me, the sicker I felt.
“I don't know what to say. I'm still trying to adjust to everything.” I shook my head and swallowed down what I really wanted to say. “I can take a makeup exam and do some extra credit. I have until Christmas break to pull my grades up.”
He knew I was hiding something, but didn't say a word, and it was almost a blessing when he left. I could hear his heart breaking, see the fumes of frustration and helplessness waft off his skin. That defeated look hurt worse than any possible slap or strike with a belt, and I bore every lash in silence.
Thinking I would get a break from my troubles, I pranced to work on Saturday. All merriment flew out the window when the store manager called me into her office. I knew I wasn't employee of the month, given all the sick leave, but I didn't expect Linda to whip out a chainsaw on my work schedule. She assured me that it was just until the Christmas run began, but I wasn't getting my hopes up.
Alicia gave me the cold shoulder during our shift. Between busy rushes, she kept herself occupied with odd tasks and rereading the latest edition of
Specter
. From what little I got from her, she believed the rumors of Malik and my romantic tryst, and was ready to stamp a scarlet A on my forehead. I had never known this, but apparently she supported my relationship with Caleb, and held a personal investment in its staying power. I wished I shared her optimism.
I had never felt so lost, so overwrought, so alone in my life. I craved my Cake Boy. Though only a week had passed since I'd last seen him, it felt like a millennium and each minute lasted a year. I needed to see his face, touch his hair, smell his skin, hear him breathe, just a few crumbs of his presence to keep me going.
The last straw came the day before Thanksgiving break when I caught Mia by her locker. She'd been evasive as ever during class, pretending I didn't exist. When that didn't work, she delivered her famous death-ray glare that turned living objects to stone. I was used to that look from the other students, but getting it from Mia hammered the final nail on my coffin.
“Would you please talk to me?” I begged. “I don't get why you're acting this way.”
She loaded books into her locker, not bothering to look at me. “I'm not acting like anything. You're the one who's forgotten who your friends are. I'm curious, how is Caleb doing? Or are you so far up Malik Davis's ass that you forgot about him, too?” She lifted her eyes to a spot behind me.
Tobias stood by the wall, wearing his Malik suit, some faded varsity sweats, and a secretive smirk. He watched attentively as if he could read lips from the thirty-yard gap. It appeared that he could, and he clung to every word and the spaces in between.
“Mia, I'm not cheating on Caleb. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a cheat. Again, always jumping to the wrong conclusions; no wonder Dougie dumped you.” The words just flew out of my mouth, their venom going straight for the heart. I had no idea where they had come from, but as soon as they reached daylight, it was a wrap.
Mia slammed her locker, the noise drawing an audience. With one hand on her hip, she crowded my space and unleashed the dragon. “Look, I understand you've become male catnip for some inexplicable reason. But in case it escaped your attention, the world doesn't revolve around you. You're not some sacred vessel; you're not God's gift to the world. You're the same girl who snorted a packet of ramen seasoning in eighth grade on a dare, so get off your pedestal.”
“Mia, I—”
“No, Sam, you forget yourself, but I know you. Don't be that girl who's too caught up in attention to make up her damn mind. If you want Malik, cool, go be with him, but don't string them both along. You're better than that, and I refuse to be another groupie in your fan club.”
I stood with my mouth open as she marched up the hall. Trust Mia to serve it up raw, and the hurt in her eyes told me this had been a long time coming.
I turned, ready to go after her, but stopped on sight of Tobias. He stood against the wall, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. To add to my disgrace, he lifted a finger to his lips, tracing the tiny dent at the top. His eyes twinkled as he mouthed,
Shh
, before disappearing around the corner.
Only then did I realize how much of my life Lilith had taken, a pendulum swinging to the beat of indecision. Her obsession was making me soft, letting me go quiet into that good night like a punk. If Mom knew that I'd allowed some dude to bully me, I really would be grounded. I had to take Angie's advice and handle business, demonic treaty be damned. This was my house, not Lilith's, and this dance had to end before the music stopped altogether.

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