Entwined (38 page)

Rakwena chuckles. “It’s not an ordinary lamp. I have one just like it.” He reaches into his bag and produces another box. He opens it to reveal an identical fist-sized rock, but this one isn’t glowing. “Let me show you something.”

He takes both lamps to the dining table and puts them on opposite ends.

“Don’t you have to plug them in?” I ask. “Or do they run on batteries?”

“Neither. Mine is just a crystal, but yours contains energy – my energy. That’s why the light is blue. I tried to go for pink, but…” He shrugs.

“Wait – you put your own energy into this crystal?” I peer at it. “And it hasn’t worn off yet?”

“It won’t wear off,” he replies, with a hint of pride. “I’ve sealed it into the rock.”

“How?”

He gives me an enigmatic grin. “It wasn’t easy. Took me weeks to get it right, but it seems to be stable. It should last a few years.”

I’m impressed. This boy is just one surprise after another. I give him an appraising look.

“Wait,” he tells me. “There’s more.” He focuses his attention on the crystal closest to him, the one that isn’t glowing. After a few minutes it starts to glow, then the glow grows in intensity until it becomes a bright light that fills the room. “Check out the other one.”

I turn my head towards the other lamp and gasp. Its dull glow has also brightened to an almost blinding light. “Wow!” I whisper, leaning closer to the crystal. “How did you do that?”

“They’re twin rocks – one rock split into two pieces which were then cut into the same shape. I don’t know whether that makes a difference, but I think it might. When I tried it with one, the same thing automatically happened to the other.” He gives me a grin of satisfaction. “So if yours starts to brighten suddenly, you’ll know it’s me.”

For some reason, the idea of this overwhelms me. Tears start to prick at my eyelids, which is silly because it’s just a crystal. “Thank you, Rakwena.”

“You like it? You don’t think it’s stupid?”

I shake my head and wrap my arms around him. “I love it.”

“Good. I was racking my brain trying to figure out what to get you.”

“You did well, Lizzie. I find your presentation most satisfactory.” I pull away and smile up at him, and I’m struck by a powerful urge to kiss him. Again. I move away quickly. “So, um… what were you and my father talking about today?”

He sighs. Disappointment? I’m not sure. “We were talking about you, of course. He called and said he wanted to talk to me.”

I make a mental note to kill my father when he gets home. “Please tell me he didn’t lecture you again about getting me into trouble.”

“Nah – he just had some concerns about our friendship.” He clears his throat and walks towards the sofa.

“What concerns?”

He raises his head and looks at me. “He asked if I had feelings for you.”

What is that frantic thumping sound? Not my heart, surely. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth.”

Thump-thump-thump. “Which is…?”

“Yes, obviously.” He makes an exasperated sound. “You
know
how much I like you, but I’m not going to do anything about it. I understand that maybe you had to test the waters, and that’s why you kissed me, and that you were trying to make me feel better by offering to go out with me. That wounded my pride, but I’ve accepted that we’re just friends, and I told your father my feelings were not reciprocated.”

Twanggggg! Like the sting of someone snapping my bra, if I wore my bra under my ribcage. “Why would you do that?” I cry, before I have the sense to stop myself.

He walks round the sofa and slumps into an armchair. “Relax. He was cool. Hey, it’s your birthday. Why are you sitting at home? Shouldn’t you be partying up a storm?”

My head is reeling from the knowledge that Rakwena thinks his feelings are unrequited. Does he think I go around kissing everybody? How can he not know?

“Hey, let me get out of here so you can go back to your homework.” He jumps up and lands a playful punch on my arm, the kind of boring, not even remotely romantic punch people give their friends. “Happy birthday.” He’s walking towards the door.

Rakwena my good buddy, who thinks I offered to date him out of pity and kissed him out of curiosity. For a smart guy, he can be such an idiot. And in this moment I realise that there is no way in hell I’m letting him leave with such stupid ideas in his head. What kind of more-than-friend would I be?

“LIZARD!” It comes out more frantic shriek than composed shout, but oh, well.

He turns around, his eyes wide with dismay. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You, of course.” I roll my eyes and march over to him. “You’re hopelessly wrong, as usual. Your feelings are… I mean… well… I appreciate them.”

He stares at me. “Thank you. Night, Connie.”

“No, wait!” I grab his hand. “
Eish!
Fine. Can we just do this already?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Do what?”

“You know.” I look at the floor, the door, his sneakers, my flip flops. “Date.”

“Why?”

Trust Rakwena to make this as difficult as he can. “Because I… I…” Deep breath. OK. Take two. “Because I like you, too.”

His grin has reached a new level of obnoxiousness. I should slap it off his face. “I’m sorry. I think I must have heard you wrong. Could you repeat that?”

“Absolutely not,” I growl.

He heaves a theatrical sigh. “Too bad. I was really hoping we could clear this up tonight, but…”

I throw myself into his arms and kiss him properly, without any thought of the consequences. The tingle goes right through me as he pulls me close. I feel like a supernova, from my tingling eyelids to my tingling toes. When I pull away he’s smiling, pompous fool. “Is that clear enough?” I ask breathlessly.

“Crystal,” he chuckles.

“So we’re official now?” I have to ask, to make sure. You never know with this guy. “You know… like… a couple?”

“Unless you’d rather be kissing cousins.”

“Yuck.” I’m feeling a little giddy as I make myself comfortable in his arms. I rather like being here – I could get used to it.

“You do know that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” he goes on. “I was thinking we could take a long, romantic walk, then maybe a candle-lit –”

“Don’t push your luck, Lizzie,” I mutter, resting my head on his chest. “I don’t do walks or candles or stuffed animals or chocolate hearts.”

He chuckles softly, then lifts my head with his finger and kisses me again. Tingle, tingle, tingle.

I’m dreaming of a beautiful park. It’s familiar, but this isn’t Botswana – there are too many towering trees thick with greenery. I’m sitting on the grass with a book in my lap. I’m wearing one of those flimsy knee-length dresses my mother loved to wear.

A guy comes up to me; about twenty or so. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun so I can see him properly. He’s well-built, dressed in formal clothing. He asks me for the time. I look down at my watch, which is odd because I haven’t owned a watch since I was about seven.

And that’s when it happens. The dream shifts, not in that fluid way that dreams usually do, but with jarring abruptness. Suddenly I’m in a deserted parking lot in a seedy area with graffiti scrawled across the concrete. The guy is perched on a high wall opposite me. No human should be able to crouch like that, shoulders raised, legs curled like a cat about to pounce. His head is turned to the left, as if he’s waiting for someone.

It’s not long before the “someone” arrives. Another young man, and another, and another, a steady stream pouring into the parking lot. Fear paralyses me. This doesn’t feel like a dream any more. I’m aware of my body lying stiff in my bed, my pulse racing.

The guy from the park jumps off the wall and joins the others. Line after line of figures, exuding power and menace. As one body, they turn to face me. Their eyes are covered by a grey film, every last one. I turn to run, but the Puppetmaster is standing right behind me.

“What do you think?” he asks in that eerie effeminate voice.

My eyes spring open. I push myself up in bed, breathing hard. That was no dream – that was a premonition. I turn to look at my crystal. It’s on my bedside table, emitting a comforting glow. As I watch it starts to shine brightly, filling the dark room with Rakwena’s blue light, and despite the horror of my premonition and my still-racing heart, I smile. Honestly, that boy
never
sleeps.

I take the crystal and hold it against my chest, replaying the premonition in my mind. The Puppetmaster is alive and well, and building another army. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know whether I’ll find the Puppetmaster. One thing I do know is that I’m not alone.

I close my eyes and rest my chin on the crystal, secure in Rakwena’s energy. Maybe by the time morning comes, I’ll be Superwoman. Or maybe I’ll still be Conyza Bennett, freak with a stubborn streak. And maybe that will be enough.