Captured in Paint

Luke Mercer’s eyes latched onto mine as he strode into history class. I looked down quickly, but I could still feel his gaze. It wasn’t like the sympathetic and curious looks my other classmates gave me. At least they had the decency to seem embarrassed when I caught them glancing my way. Luke had been watching me with cool disdain, his blue eyes never wavering.

He paused as he passed by my desk. I kept my eyes on my notebook, willing him to sit down.

“Please take your seat, Luke,” Ms. Davis said.

He uttered a low, sarcastic laugh and slid into a desk in the next row over.

Luke had transferred from Westdale Collegiate to St. Peter’s High for grade twelve, but it was mid-September and he’d only started attending classes two days earlier. People were saying it was because he’d just gotten out of juvie.

I hunched over my notebook, intent on ignoring him. As I doodled with my right hand, the fingers of my left automatically lifted to touch the silver chain that always hung around my neck. My fingertips only grazed bare skin.

Letting out a sharp gasp, I fumbled with my collar, but I still couldn’t feel the chain. I dropped my pen and frantically ran both hands over the front of my shirt, hoping my locket had just fallen off and got snagged in the material. It hadn’t.

I bent over and searched my backpack. It wasn’t there, either.

Somewhere between home and school, I’d lost the locket. How could I not have noticed? It was one of the few things I had left that tied me to my mother, and now it was gone—maybe forever, just like her. As the thought crossed my mind, my chest tightened in a way it never had before, squeezing until I felt like I was going to explode. A lump rose in my throat, and I was struck by the overwhelming urge to cry.

I never cried. I’d always been good at keeping my emotions in check. Even in the days and weeks following the fire, I hadn’t shed a tear. It was like this wall of numbness surrounded me, keeping me from really feeling.

Now, with the discovery of the missing locket, that wall had come crashing down.

With my heart thumping wildly against my ribcage, I barely noticed when Principal Tobin came on the PA. For a couple of minutes, his voice sounded far away as he read through a list of announcements. But then his tone changed, taking on a sombre note that made me sit up a little straighter. “And now I have a very important piece of news to cap off today’s announcements. As you all know, we lost one of our students this past summer. Nicholas Allen was a bright, motivated young man who was honoured with a Young Humanitarian Award for his fundraising campaign for victims of the Alberta floods. He also…”

No! I screamed in my head. Don’t talk about him.

But, of course, Mr. Tobin couldn’t hear my silent plea. He kept talking about my dead boyfriend, listing his achievements like a proud father.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Something was lodged in my windpipe, cutting off all my air.

“And now,” the principal continued, “Nicholas’ parents are collaborating with the Red Cross to set up a scholarship fund in his memory. If you would like more information, you can contact…”

I’d known about the scholarship because Mrs. Allen had called to tell me about it before school had started. But I had not been expecting to hear about it over the PA today. Hadn’t been expecting Nick’s name to be boomed out across the school just as I was trying to keep it together in the wake of losing my locket. Talk about a double whammy.

I needed the wall again, needed to build it back up and use it as a buffer against the flood of emotions. But the pieces of that wall lay at my feet, and I didn’t know how to put them back together.

I couldn’t ignore the images of Nick that popped into my head—tall, lean, handsome Nick with the crooked smile and caramel-brown eyes that could send butterflies skittering through my stomach, even after two years of dating. But I would never see that smile again. He was gone, just like my mother. Just like the locket.

Stop it, I commanded myself, desperate to put an end to the chain of despondent thoughts. You can beat this.

My mother had taught me some techniques to use if my emotions started to run rampant—simple things like taking slow, deep breaths, counting to ten or recalling a happy memory…affirmations. I’d never had to use any of them…until now.

I took a series of deep breaths and hoped that I would find my equilibrium.

But the deep sadness and regret only grew, pouring over me in waves as Nick’s face floated in my mind’s eye.

My face grew warm. The walls of the classroom were closing in on me. I desperately wished I was somewhere else, somewhere I could be alone, where I could breathe in lungfuls of fresh air.

An image of a field of poppies began to take shape in my mind. I didn’t have time to wonder where it had come from because a wave of dizziness struck me.

Black spots flitted across my vision, and the classroom began to spin.

I closed my eyes.

“Are you all right, Julia?”

The concerned voice of my history teacher reached me through the dizziness. When I opened my eyes, the spinning sensation stopped as suddenly as it had begun. My racing heart started to slow as I fixed my eyes on Ms. Davis. I took another deep breath, and this time I was able to push back the grief that had nearly consumed me.

“I’m fine, Ms. Davis,” I said. My voice was loud and clear, but my hands were shaking. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that the layer of numbness had been peeled back, exposing my emotions…or feeling like I was going to faint. What was wrong with me today?

The eyes of my classmates burned into the back of my head. Whispers swirled around me. They were gossiping about the fire, of course, wanting to know more, wondering how I was.

They could wonder all they wanted, though. I wasn’t talking about it.

“Quiet, please,” Ms. Davis said.

She waited for the whispers to die down then cleared her throat. “Today we’re going to start by talking about the St. Peter’s Mining Disaster of 1938. Does anyone know what happened?”

“It was a methane gas explosion, right?” Tina Myers answered. “It killed most of the miners.”

“That’s right. And what was the significance of the disaster?”

“Uh, a lot of people died?” piped up Ron Freeman, the school’s track-and-field star. He was swift on the track but not so much in the classroom.

Laughter rang through the room. Ms. Davis sighed. “Other than that, Mr. Freeman. What was the significance of the event in terms of a historical context?”

Emily Saunders shot her hand up.

“Yes, Emily.”

“It meant the end of the iron ore industry in St. Peter’s.”

“Exactly. After that—”

“Actually,” Scott Reese cut in, “I think the real significance is that the survivors went nuts.”

There was a collective groan from the class.

“Come on, you guys. You all know the stories. They saw some pretty crazy things as they ran out of the mine.”

Emily tossed her red hair. “They were probably delusional.”

Ron scratched his head thoughtfully. “They were all delusional? I don’t know, Em. I kinda think the stories might be true.”

“Yeah,” Scott said with a smirk. “Stories about miners disappearing in a cloud of dust—and not because of the explosion.”

“Stories about someone using freaky magic down in the mines!” someone else chimed in.

Ms. Davis held up a hand. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s stick with the facts, please.”

I listened to the exchange without participating. It wasn’t like I didn’t have anything to say about the mining disaster. After all, my own grandfather—who’d died before I was born—had survived the explosion. And according to Mom, he’d always insisted the rumors about unexplained phenomena were just that—rumors. I could have contributed this information, but the last thing I wanted to do was prolong a debate about death and tragedy. I was dealing with enough of that in my own life.

Still feeling a bit unsteady, I shifted in my seat. As I did so, my elbow struck my pen and knocked it to the floor.

I twisted in my seat to retrieve it, but the girl who sat in the desk behind me had already scooped it up. She handed it to me with a sympathetic smile. I murmured my thanks and was about to turn around.

That’s when I noticed Luke watching me from the next row, three desks down. His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine again. Hi, Julia, he mouthed.

I frowned at him. He smiled, but his eyes remained cool. I faced forward, anger bubbling in my chest as I focused on my notebook again. Soon the page in front of me was covered with the same line, written over and over in small, neat letters.

Stay in control.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. I stood, stuffed my notebook in my backpack and hurried from the classroom. In the hallway, I pushed through a throng of students, anxious to get to my locker.

“Jules!” My best friend, Roxy Butler, hurried up and threw her arms around me.

“Hey, Rox.” As she gave me a squeeze, some of my tension fell away.

“A bunch of us are going to Tony’s for lunch. Please say you’ll come with.”

I shook my head, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “I can’t. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, tucking her curly blonde hair behind her ears. “It’ll be fun.”

I glanced at Roxy as I turned to my locker. She was slim and petite, but what she lacked in size she made up for in energy and enthusiasm. Since school had begun, she’d been urging me to join a group of our friends at Tony’s Pizza Parlor. It had become a Friday ritual of ours over the last couple of years, but more often than not, I said no. No one seemed to know what to say to me, and I couldn’t stand being the target of their sympathy.

“I don’t think so, Rox. I really don’t feel up to it.”

Her eyes met mine. She paused. “To be honest, you don’t look so good. Are you all right? I heard the scholarship announcement and…” She let her words trail off.

I sighed. “It was just, you know, kind of a jolt to hear his name, but I’m okay.” I wasn’t okay, though…not by a longshot. After that weird dizzy spell in the classroom, my limbs felt like they weighed a ton, and I could feel the unfamiliar emotions tugging at me again, wanting to get out. But I refused to break down at school. And that meant I couldn’t talk about Nick or Mom. “So, are you still going to Scott’s party?” I asked quickly.

She nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

Scott’s annual back-to-school bash was always held at the end of September when his parents went on a Caribbean cruise. He’d been having them since grade nine, and I’d never missed one. It was true that I’d told Roxy I didn’t want to go. But suddenly the thought of having easy access to alcohol appealed to me—anything to take the edge off. Plus, in Scott’s huge house, with loud music and people everywhere, the attention wouldn’t be focused on me like it was in a small group.

“Actually, I think I will go.”

She curved her lips into a bright smile. “Great! We can raid my sister’s closet and find you something really cool to wear. And I’ll get Jimmy to drive us.” She paused, glancing at her watch. “Listen… I gotta go, but you’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“It’ll be just you and me?”

“Just you and me,” she said, squeezing my arm. “Movies, gossip and junk food.”

Despite my mood, a smile spread across my face. “Sounds good.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you then!” She dashed down the hall, and I turned the dial on my combination lock.

When I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the little magnetic mirror that hung on the inside of the door, I gave a little start.

It wasn’t the sight of my unkempt hair that surprised me—the thick mass of dark brown was untameable, even on the best of days—but my flushed cheeks and pale lips. And there were dark circles under my eyes that I swore hadn’t been there when I’d left for school. Roxy was right. I did look awful. I wondered if I was coming down with some kind of flu bug. That might explain the dizzy spell.

I took out the books I’d need for my afternoon classes then shut the locker with a sigh.

And turned to find the new guy staring at me again.

He was leaning against the row of lockers across the hall, his arms crossed as his gaze raked me from head to toe. He clucked his tongue. “It’s been a while, Julia Parsons.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at you, all grown up. What are you now, seventeen?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” I hitched my backpack on my shoulders, heading away from him.

He easily caught up to me and matched my quick pace. “Come on. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

I stopped and stared at him. “Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember me?” His mouth twitched once then stilled. His eyes were bright against his deeply tanned face and shock of jet-black hair. The stubble that dotted his jawline made him look older than a grade-twelve student. “Luke. Luke Mercer.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“We used to be best buds when we were kids. You and me, we used to run through the sprinkler together? I lived on Ennis Avenue, a few doors down from you.”

“I don’t remember you living in the neighborhood,” I said, frowning. In fact, I didn’t remember any kids living on Ennis before Nick.

“Well, we were only there for a year before Dad moved us across town. I thought I might’ve made an impression on you, though.” He paused, flicking his eyes over me again. “Back then everyone called me Lucas.”

Lucas.

A hazy image of a little dark-haired boy holding a ratty teddy bear flashed through my mind, startling me. Where had that come from? “When was this?” I asked.

“We were five. Come on. You really don’t remember us playing together?”

“Not really,” I said, my voice high and thin. “I don’t remember much of anything from that long ago.” My father had died in a car accident that year, and I barely remembered that, let alone playing with some random kid who’d briefly lived on my street.

“Anyway, I never forget a name, and your name is flying around this school. When I heard it was your house that burned down on Ennis, I knew you had to be the same Julia Parsons from my old neighborhood.”

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to block out the image of the flames gutting my home. “Yeah. Well, nice seeing you again, but I have to get going.”

He held up his hands, palms outward. “Hey, I get it. You don’t want to talk about what happened, especially with someone you don’t even remember.”

“No,” I said bluntly, “I don’t.” I started down the hall, my chest so tight that I was sure my lungs were being squeezed.

He kept pace with me again. “You know what I find ironic? That guy in history mentioning the word ‘magic’.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, hurrying in the direction of the girls’ washroom. The sooner I ditched this creep, the better.

“Yeah. Because that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” He caught my arm, gripping it so tightly that I was forced to stop. The hard glint in his eyes sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Let go.” I struggled against his iron-like hold, but he didn’t budge. I looked around wildly, hoping to appeal to someone else for help, but the hall had emptied as students made their way to the cafeteria for lunch or left to eat off school grounds.

“Don’t expect me to believe you don’t know what you did to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why do you think we moved away?”

“How would I know that?”

Luke leaned close, his breath hot and smelling like cigarettes. “You tried to send me away with some kind of freaky magic. And this past summer, your mom actually did it. Only it wasn’t me she sent away. It was my dad. Apparently, you witches can send people anywhere, real or not.”

“Okay, you are seriously messed up. How dare you stand there and make up delusional stories about me and my mom?” My face burned. “Now let go.”

A burst of loud chatter came from the direction of the girls’ washroom. Trisha Ford and one of her grade-eleven minions, Kathy something-or-other, stepped out into the corridor.

Luke scowled and released his hold on me. I massaged my arm where his fingers had dug into my skin.

Trisha stopped in mid-sentence when she caught sight of us. Tall and thin, she wore skin-tight leggings and a top that bared one shoulder. A trio of gold bracelets clinked together on her arm as she raised it to smooth down her bottle-blonde hair.

Trisha had been my arch nemesis since grade two, when she’d stolen the doll I’d brought for show-and-tell. Since then, she’d found countless ways to humiliate me, mostly by spreading rumors. I was fairly sure she was behind the malicious stories being circulated about the fire, one of which was the completely bogus rumor that I started the blaze myself. But I’d always been able to remain calm, never letting her see that she got to me. I knew it drove her crazy.

She narrowed her heavily made-up eyes at me before shifting her attention to Luke.

“What are you doing with her?”

“Oh, we’re old friends.” Luke said.

“Friends?” Trisha’s wide, fuchsia-coated lips curled in derision.

“Yeah, we knew each other when we were kids.”

“Wait,” I said, looking from one to the other in confusion. “How do you guys know each other?”

“We met yesterday. Mr. Tobin asked me to give him a tour of the school. We’ve gotten very close, very fast.” She stepped close to Luke and gave his arm a familiar squeeze.

So, the bitch had found herself a new target. As I stared at Trisha, who was looking all smug now, her arm hooked through Luke’s, I thought of all the times she’d tried to steal Nick from me. She hadn’t succeeded, of course. Nick and I had practically been joined at the hip. Her ineffective flirtations had never bothered me, but now the very memory of her batting her eyelashes at Nick made me want to scratch her eyes out.

Get it together, Julia. This isn’t like you. “Well, that’s great. You two are perfect for each other.”

Luke extricated himself from Trisha and took a step towards me. I immediately backed away, my hands in the air. “Just stay away from me, you—you creep.”

I turned on my heel and half-walked, half-jogged down the hall. Bursting through a side door, I hurried through the sun-dappled parking lot, trying to get as much distance as I could between myself and crazy Luke Mercer.

* * * *

I moved the cloth over the stain, willing it to disappear. But no matter how long or how hard I scrubbed, the stubborn spot remained. I paused to shake out a cramp in my hand, frowning at the culprit on my aunt’s granite countertop. It wasn’t big—maybe the size of a dime—but it was bright purple and hard to miss. Stupid grape juice.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the counter and redoubled my efforts. I barely lifted my head when Aunt Karen came through the backdoor.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll make a hole in the counter,” she said lightly.

“There’s this one little spot that…” I trailed off as I caught the smell of pepperoni pizza. Turning, I discovered the source of the heavenly aroma in my aunt’s arms. “Well, I guess the spot can wait.”

Smiling, she set the pizza on the table. “The house looks immaculate.” She glanced at the mop and bucket I’d propped in the corner. “You even did the floors. What brought this on?”

I shrugged. “I had some time.” It was more like I’d needed to keep busy or I would’ve driven myself crazy with thoughts of my missing locket. My stomach twisted. I still couldn’t believe I’d lost it. The silver heart hadn’t left my sight since Mom had given it to me on my first day of kindergarten. I didn’t know of many kids who still had jewellery from their elementary school days, but I’d loved that locket from the minute I’d put it on and had never taken it off. Now my neck felt naked without it. I hoped to God it would turn up in the lost and found at school the next day. So far there was no sign of it there. I’d already called the school office to ask.

“You’re home earlier than usual,” I said.

As a general surgeon at Grace Memorial Hospital, my aunt worked long days. It was normal for her shifts to last up to fourteen hours. Sometimes she even slept at the hospital.

“Managed to finish at a decent time for once. I thought we’d have an early supper.” She lifted the lid on the pizza box. “Thanks for cleaning up, honey. I do appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal,” I said, taking two cans of Coke from the fridge.

After the day I’d had, doing housework had given me at least a small measure of control. I’d vacuumed, swept and mopped, on a mission to keep my mind off the locket—and Mom and Nick. The grief was threatening to creep in again, and for some reason, I couldn’t push it back like I’d been doing all summer.

The encounter with Luke was also weighing on my mind. Obviously, his accusation was some kind of sick joke, but it had rattled me all the same. I bet Trisha was behind it. She could have paid him or something to say all that crap about Mom and me being witches. She had seemed genuinely surprised, not to mention pissed off, when she saw Luke standing next to me, but that had probably been part of the act. Mulling the scene over, I pictured her face in my mind, her eyes flashing with disdain.

I’d rather think about Trisha than think about Mom and Nick. Memories of them had been crashing over me like a tidal wave—Mom’s lilting voice as she hummed a tune from one of her plays, the scent of her lavender shampoo, the feel of Nick’s lips on mine.

It still felt weird, not hearing Mom’s confident step around the house or seeing Nick burst through the front door as if he owned the place. He’d lived a few houses down from mine on Ennis, and it had seemed like he’d been at my place more than his own.

I shook my head. So much for not thinking about them.

I rustled up napkins, plates and glasses for the Coke and carefully arranged two place mats on the table. I took a bite of pizza, hoping the taste of cheese and pepperoni would mask the lump in my throat.

“How was school?” Aunt Karen asked.

“Fine.” I’d already decided not to tell her about the locket. It had originally belonged to my mother, and since the fire, my aunt seemed relieved that I’d continued to wear it—almost reassured, actually. I didn’t want to worry her just yet. She probably wouldn’t notice it was missing anyway, since I mostly wore it under my shirt.

I took a long sip of Coke. The lump was still there, but it was a little smaller. “They’re going over the mining disaster in history again. They really need to get some new material.”

Karen gave me a small smile as she wiped her hands on her napkin. “I agree. How are your other classes going?”

“Good.” Eager to change the subject, I said, “Hey, did you know they’re painting over my mural next week? Jennifer—the contest coordinator—left a message.”

St. Peter’s held a mural contest every fall. Participants were asked to paint their idea for a winter mural on a piece of stretch canvas while a committee of judges looked on. The winner was given the opportunity to recreate the scene on the large wall that lined the road coming down from Joseph Heights. I had won the past year with my depiction of a snowy village. Now the city was ready to paint it over and give this year’s winner a blank canvas.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey.” She paused. “Is that why you’re so distracted tonight?”

I nodded. It was easier to let her think that was the reason. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about everything else that was going on. “Well, that and my artwork for the institute. I don’t have much time if I want to send them some new pieces.” I had yet to start on my portfolio for the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, one of the colleges I was applying to.

Aunt Karen set down her pizza, concern etched in the fine lines around her mouth and eyes. “Julia, you’ll have plenty of time for that. You’re doing enough now.”

I peered at her over the rim of my glass. She was my mother’s sister, but she didn’t look or act anything like her. Mom had had unruly dark brown hair like mine. Karen’s hair was auburn and styled in a short bob. Mom’s face had been strong-boned, with smooth olive skin, full lips and hazel eyes that I couldn’t always read. Karen had a narrow face with fair skin, a thin mouth and deep green eyes that always gave away what she was thinking. She’d cried in front of me a few times after the fire, mourning her sister. That was all right for her, but not for me. And it wouldn’t have been for Mom, either. She’d been cool and calm, even in the most trying of circumstances. People often joked that I’d inherited her ability to let troubles roll off me like water off a duck’s back.

“The more I do, the better off I am,” I said.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I know you think you have to be strong, but just…go easy on yourself, okay?”

I wondered if now was the time she’d tell me it was okay to fall apart, that I didn’t have to keep my emotions at bay, that a good cry was healthy, like it had been for her. But she didn’t. She hadn’t said anything like that at all since the fire. She seemed to understand that I preferred the numbness that shrouded my grief like a cloak.

The problem was that the cloak had suddenly lifted. And I didn’t like the feelings that lay underneath.

I didn’t like them at all.

* * * *

After supper, I went to Roxy’s. My best friend lived several blocks away, but I had turned down Aunt Karen’s offer to borrow her car, opting for a walk in the mild September evening. I wanted to be moving, to feel my legs pumping and my heart beating in my chest. The sun filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on my skin, and a light breeze swept my hair back from my face. By the time I arrived at the Butlers’, there was a fine layer of sweat on my body and my face was flushed.

Roxy answered the door and immediately propelled me inside. “Thank God you’re here, Jules. I need your math expertise. I’m stuck on a problem.”

I let her pull me upstairs. “Sure. Which set are you on?”

“Ah, only the first one,” she said, shutting her bedroom door. “God, I hate algebra.”

I sat at her desk and pulled her notebook toward me. “Oh yeah. I remember this one.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “You finished it already, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You freak.”

I laughed, searching for a pencil. “Get over here and I’ll show you how a freak does it.”

I ended up helping her with the rest of the problems. When we’d finished, she flounced on the bed. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

I crossed to her dresser and picked up a hairbrush, absently pulling it through my tangles. I could see her reflection in the mirror as she sprawled on the bed behind me, piling her curly blonde hair on top of her head. “It’s not like you to do math on a Friday night.” I eyed her in the mirror. “What’s up?”

She curved her lips up into a sly grin. “Let’s just say I’m going to be too busy to do it this weekend. Jimmy’s parents are going out of town.”

“Oh.” I set the hairbrush down and quickly turned toward her desk, straightening her textbooks so I could avoid seeing the anticipation that gleamed in her eyes.

It wasn’t so much that I was envious of her relationship with her boyfriend—although I guess a part of me was. It was more that hearing about it was a stark reminder of what I had lost. I’d never have an intimate weekend alone with Nick again. I’d never feel his hands caressing my skin, his movements gentle and tender. His tall, lean body would never again fill the doorway of my house, a mischievous grin playing over his face. His absence—his and mom’s—had left a huge hole in my heart, and it was hard to imagine it would ever be filled in again.

Roxy must have sensed my discomfort because she swore under her breath. “Sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean to rub it in your face.”

I forced a smile. “You didn’t. So,” I continued, “something totally crazy happened at my locker after you left today. You know that new guy, Luke?”

“The one who just got out of juvie?”

“Yeah. So, get this. He accused me of being a witch.”

Roxy wrinkled her nose. “What? What do you mean, a witch?”

I quickly filled her in, finishing with Trish’s appearance. “I think she must’ve put him up to it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said, shaking her head. “She probably said she’d sleep with him if he went all crazy on you.”

I gave a short, hard laugh. “Probably.”

“My God, what a bitch. Why can’t she just leave you alone? You’ve been through enough.”

“Yeah, well, she better not be at the party tomorrow.”

“If she is and she bothers you, I’ll personally kick her ass.”

This time my laughter was full of amusement as I tried to picture pint-sized Roxy launching herself at Trisha’s six-foot frame. “Now there’s something I’d like to see.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “You know, I’m actually really excited for tomorrow night. It’s going to be so much better now that you’re going!” She sprang from the bed and tackled me in a hug.

“Can’t breathe, Rox,” I managed.

“What? Oh, sorry.” She let me go with a giggle, then dashed to her closet. “I have just the thing for you to wear. Stole it from Debbie’s room this afternoon.”

“What is it?”

“Her red dress. You’re going to love it.”

“Oh, I don’t need to dress up, Rox. I want to be low-key.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she flipped through the hangers. “Are you kidding me? You know everybody dresses up for Scott’s annual bash. It’s like a tradition. You’ll stand out if you don’t wear something nice. Ah-ha! Here it is.”

Seeing the silky halter dress laid out on the bed, I felt a bit of Roxy’s excitement rubbing off on me. “It is a great dress,” I admitted.

“I know, right?” She flashed me a wide smile. “Good thing you and my sister are the same size. Oh, wait! I have the shoes to go with it, too.” She ducked back in the closet and stood on her tiptoes to reach a box on the top shelf. “So, what made you change your mind about the party?”

I ran my fingers over the dress. “Honestly? The alcohol.”

She turned around, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Really? You hardly ever drink.”

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start.”

“Whoa, where is this coming from, Jules?” She set the shoe box aside and came to sit next to me on the bed.

A loud sigh escaped my lips. “I lost Mom’s necklace today.”

“Oh no. Shit, I’m sorry. I know how much that meant to you. Did you lose it at your house? I can come over and help you look if you want.”

I shook my head. “I had it on when I left for school. It must’ve fallen off somewhere along the way or just as I got inside. I noticed it was gone in history.”

“That really sucks, Jules. But maybe someone will find it and turn it in.”

I pressed my hands together in my lap to keep them from shaking. “I just can’t believe it. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve noticed right away.”

“It was an accident.”

“That was the only thing I had left of her, Rox.” The ache was back in my throat again, so painful I could barely swallow.

“It’s going to be okay. We can—”

“No, it’s not. I’m suddenly missing her and Nick so much that I want to scream or cry or…or drink until I can’t feel anything.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You were probably in shock, and now with the necklace gone, you’re just feeling everything all at once.” She peered at me with concern. “Even you couldn’t hold it in forever.”

“It’s not fair,” I whispered. “Mom should be here, directing her new play. And Nick… Nick should’ve gotten his award that night.”

Roxy rubbed my back. She didn’t have to ask what night I meant. “Hey, don’t do this to yourself.”

I barely heard her. An image of that fateful night burned in my mind. After spending the early part of the evening at an art lecture, I’d gone home to get ready for Nick’s ceremony. He had sent me a text saying he was already there with Mom, going over his acceptance speech.

But instead of finding an excited boyfriend at home, I’d found my house engulfed in flames—and Nick and Mom trapped inside.

I’d watched, paralyzed with shock, as the roof collapsed in a wave of dust and debris. The voice of the fire captain, sounding distorted and far-off, told me it was too dangerous for his men to go in. And I descended even deeper into shock, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. I was too numb to feel, too numb to cry.

Now that the numbness had faded, I could feel. And what I felt at that moment, sitting on my best friend’s bed, was sadness. A deep, dark sorrow wrapped me in a choke hold and refused to let go.

I wished I were dead instead of Mom and Nick.

Roxy shook me gently. “Come on, Jules. I’ll take you home. You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel good.” I tried to take deep breaths, but they came out shallow as my chest heaved with the weight of emotion. If I could have replaced the memory of the fire with a happy one, I would have. But the loss of my locket had brought it all back into sharp focus, and I couldn’t fight the emotion that was growing inside me.

The threads of it tugged at me, looking for an escape.

I had to get out of there.

When I lurched to my feet, my gaze was instantly pulled to the poster tacked up next to the mirror. It was a promotional poster that I had designed for Mom’s most successful play, 'Dragonfly Island.' I’d given it to Roxy as soon as they had been printed. I tried to tear my eyes away, but I couldn’t move. I stood rooted to one spot, focused on the image of three whimsical dragonflies set against the backdrop of a white sandy beach curling around an aquamarine ocean.

The room began to spin, just like it had in history class. My vision swam with black dots. I closed my eyes and put my hand out for the bed, reaching forward like a blind man. But the bed wasn’t there, and I pitched forward. A sensation of warmth flooded my body like the heat of a noonday sun, and a slight buzzing sounded in my ear. The sharp smell of salt reached my nose. I flailed about, my heart thundering in my chest as the disorientation increased.

Then I discovered I couldn’t open my eyes.

From somewhere in the distance, Roxy called my name. My eyelids remained glued shut. It was like being stuck in the kind of nightmare where you know you’re dreaming but your subconscious won’t allow you to fully wake up. I was whimpering, still spinning out of control, when a pair of hands gripped my shoulders.

My eyes flew open, suddenly free from whatever force had been keeping them closed.

“Oh my god, Jules, are you okay?” Roxy’s own eyes brimmed with concern. She tugged my hand and forced me to sit on the bed.

The room finally stopped moving. “I think so. I’ve got a wicked headache all of a sudden,” I muttered, massaging my temple.

“Do you want some aspirin?”

“No.” I shook my head, swallowing hard. “Was just a bit dizzy for a second. I better go.”

“Just rest here for a couple of minutes, then I’ll take you home.”

I didn’t argue. We sat side by side in silence. But when Roxy drove me home, she resumed her steady stream of chatter, and I was grateful.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jules?” she asked when she pulled up to Aunt Karen’s house. “You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

“I’m okay…just tired.”

But I tried not to stagger as I walked to the house, hoping she wouldn’t be able to tell just how weak I really was.

* * * *

I stood in the foyer of the house on Ennis Avenue as debris rained down all around me. I opened my mouth to cry out for Mom and Nick, but the sound died in my throat. White-hot waves of fire danced around me, burning my skin, and thick black smoke curled into my lungs, choking me.

A male voice called out from the back of the house, pained and muffled. I stumbled along the rapidly crumbling hallway.

Nick! My silent scream echoed in my head. Where are you?

I tripped over something in the hallway, landing on my hands and knees. As I did, the smoke cleared and a dirty teddy bear stared up at me, its hard, black eyes taunting.

I bolted upright in bed, my sweat-soaked pajamas clinging to my body and my breath coming in sharp gasps.

The glowing red numbers of my alarm clock, showing three-eighteen, were the only light in my room. The rest of it lay shrouded in a darkness that was closing in on me.

Light. I needed light. I fumbled for the lamp switch. It slipped uselessly for a moment between my clammy fingers before I heard the satisfying click. The room was bathed in soft, yellow light.

But the shadows of my nightmare remained.

* * * *

I woke mid-morning and padded downstairs. Aunt Karen had left for a three-day surgery summit. The house was quiet without her, but at least it would buy me some time to see if the necklace turned up at school. I touched the spot on my chest where the heart-shaped pendant used to lay. I felt its absence like a physical ache.

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I forced myself to eat a bowl of cornflakes and a piece of toast. The cereal tasted like cardboard and the dry toast stuck in my throat like a wad of cotton. I washed them down with black coffee and grunted, thinking about what had happened in Roxy’s bedroom. I was going to need something much, much stronger than Karen’s dark Colombian roast. Scott’s party could not come soon enough.

Back upstairs, I took a hot shower. As I lathered myself with soap, I shuddered at the memory of the night before. What the hell was that? A hallucination? A panic attack? Whatever it had been, it had been more than just a dizzy spell. The sense that I couldn’t open my eyes, the desperate feeling of wanting to be somewhere else… The whole thing had been intense and terrifying. Could grief really do that to a person?

The other thing I couldn’t make any sense of was the awful nightmare that had plagued my sleep.

It was the first time I’d dreamed of the fire. The disturbing images of flames and smoke had been bad enough, but the teddy bear? What was I supposed to make of that? I stepped out of the shower, shivering. My subconscious was seriously screwed up.

In my bedroom, I threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans with a rip in one knee. There was no way I was going to sit around the house all day, worrying that I might be going crazy. So, without giving myself any more time to think, I grabbed some change for the bus and jogged down to the corner. I got there just in time to catch the Number Two.

I took a seat near the back and stared out of the window as the bus rolled on. I was never fully conscious of the traffic, buildings and trees that drifted by on these trips. Usually I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds the bus made as it lumbered along—the loud hum of its engine, the chime of the bell when someone pulled the cord to request a stop, the squeak of the doors as they opened and shut for passengers. It all had a strange calming effect on me. On the bus, I could be lulled into a false sense of security for a little while. Today I didn’t have a destination. I just wanted to kill time.

After about twenty minutes, the bus pulled into a large shopping district. My plan had been to stay on the bus for the entire route and get off when it looped back to Karen’s neighborhood, but the big, newly built Shoppers Drug Mart caught my eye as the bus screeched to a halt. I got off with about a half dozen other people, and a minute later, entered the drugstore through its automatic sliding doors.

Inside, everything with bright and new and shiny. I passed by racks of glossy magazines, prominent displays of school supplies and shelves arranged with colorful bottles of hair products. As I neared the perfumes, a heady mix of scents wafted under my nose. I skirted the main cosmetics counter and slipped into the makeup aisle.

I hovered over a shelf of lip gloss, trying to choose between three shades of red.

“Julia?”

I turned around. A tube of luscious scarlet slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.

Nick’s mother, Sarah Allen, stood looking at me from the end of the aisle. Her short ash-blonde curls peeked out from under a green beret. Her thin figure was clad in a long black cardigan. Closing the gap between us, she exclaimed, “I thought that was you!”

“Hi, Mrs. Allen,” I said.

She clasped my hand in her own, her expression grave. Dark bags hung under her eyes, contrasting sharply with her pale cheeks.

“It’s so good to see you!” She pulled me in for a hug.

When we drew apart, I bent to pick up the lip gloss. “It’s good to see you, too. The principal made an announcement about the scholarship fund. I hope you get a good response.”

She gave me a watery smile. “Me too. We just wanted a way for his humanitarian work to live on. He did so much for so many people.” She paused. “How are you feeling, dear?”

I shrugged, rolling the lip gloss between my thumb and forefinger. Like I’m going to explode any minute. “Oh, you know. I’m okay.”

“You’ve always been so strong. I’ve envied that about you. With Nick gone, I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Some days it still doesn’t seem real.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She dug a notebook from her purse, scribbled something on a page. “This is my new cell phone number. Please call at any time. If you want to come over for a cup of tea or if you want to talk or…anything.”

I took the piece of paper. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

She hesitated. “I was actually going to call you today. My cousin works at the fire department, and he heard through the grapevine that the land at your house is going to be cleared.”

Something rattled loose inside of me. “What? Why?”

“Well, they did close the investigation into the fire.”

Recently the lead fire investigator had concluded that the damage was too extensive to pinpoint the cause. I knew that. I didn’t like it, but I’d accepted it. At least I thought I had. Now, hearing that the rubble was going to be cleaned up, it seemed so…final.

“You’re right,” I said in a hoarse voice. “It’s just—”

“I know, dear. It’s a lot to take in.” Mrs. Allen touched my arm. “Listen, Mitch and I would love to see you. I know you must be busy with school, but keep in touch, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll, ah, give you a call soon.”

“Great.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to run, but I have an appointment to keep. Say hello to your aunt for me, would you?”

“I will.” Normally, I would’ve done the polite thing—asked her if there was anything I could do for her or at least send a greeting to Nick’s father. But still shaken by her news, I couldn’t find the words.

She patted my arm again. “Take care, Julia.”

“You too,” I said, swallowing. I watched her walk away, then looked down at the tube of lip gloss still in my hand. Suddenly it seemed like the least important thing in the world. I dropped it back onto the shelf.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans then just stood in the aisle for a moment, thinking about Mrs. Allen’s news. How could they take away what was left of my childhood home? How could they take it away without knowing what caused the fire? It just wasn’t right.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was being irrational, but I didn’t care. I hurried down the aisle and out of the store.

This time I did have a destination in mind.

With my heart beating like a drum in my head and my throat aching, I stumbled onto the bus that would take me to Ennis Avenue.

* * * *

A short time later, I stood in front of the pile of rubble that used to be my home.

My legs were frozen in place. I stared at the mass of debris where the two-story once stood. Scorched wood, broken glass and scraps of metal were strewn across the square of land that would soon be cleared.

Before today, I’d avoided my old neighborhood at all costs. But after running into Nick’s mother, the burning need to view the damage firsthand had reared up and taken me by the throat. It wasn’t like I could figure out the cause of the fire just by looking at it. I just wanted to—I don’t know—try to make some sense out of that night. It seemed like I’d been living under a rock the last two months, sitting idly by and accepting what everyone told me without batting an eyelash.

Now a million questions zoomed through my head, and I wanted answers. How had the fire spread so quickly? Why hadn’t Mom and Nick been able to get out in time? We had smoke detectors. And the biggest one of all… What had caused it in the first place?

The fire department needed to try harder. They shouldn’t stop until they found out who or what was responsible for burning down my home. That fire had taken everything from me. Everything.

The piles of wood and debris swam in front of my eyes. I backed up against a tree and brought my hand to my face. Was I…crying? Furious, I wiped away the tears before they had a chance to fall.

I shook my head and sucked in a breath. And that’s when my gaze fell on the JP plus NA etched into the ground. Two years ago, when they’d been putting in a new sidewalk, Nick had used a stick to draw our initials in the fresh cement mixture. I sighed, falling to my knees to run my fingers over the letters. Two years ago, he’d become my boyfriend, but we’d been friends for a long time before that.

I closed my eyes and relived that summer day when we’d met for the first time. I’d been riding my bike when a rut in the sidewalk had caused me to topple over. Suddenly a dark-haired boy had been by my side, asking if I was okay and offering up a bag of M&Ms to take my mind off my skinned knees. From that moment on, we had been the best of friends. Over the years, we’d been there for each other through thick and thin, through the highs and lows of growing up. And no one had been prouder than me when, at the age of seventeen, Nick was recognized by the Canadian Red Cross. He would receive a Young Humanitarian Award at a dinner in July, eleven years after we’d met.

Of course, he never got that award. The fire had robbed him of that chance…had robbed him of his life.

My throat started to swell again. Why had I come here? Why was I torturing myself? I had to go, had to get away from this street and all the memories. But I was feeling dizzy and all I wanted to do was keep my eyes closed.

Stay in control.

The mantra in my head, coupled with the sound of a nearby car door slamming, brought me back. I surged to my feet, dashed out of the yard and ran from Ennis Avenue as fast as I could.

* * * *

I was glad to have the house to myself while getting ready for the party. With the borrowed dress and shoes on, I stood staring into the mirror that hung in the front hallway. The halter dress was made out of a silky fabric that clung to my hips and had a hem that fell mid-thigh. I slipped on a jean jacket to cover my bare arms and shoulders and pursed my lips in the mirror. They were coated with the rosy red lipstick I’d borrowed from Aunt Karen. I tried a smile. It looked totally fake.

The forced smile turned to a scowl as I caught sight of my unruly hair tumbling down my shoulders. I twisted the whole thing into a knot at the nape of my neck and secured it with a clip, just as Jimmy’s horn sounded outside.

Roxy and Jimmy greeted me cheerfully as I slid into the backseat.

“Hey, guys.”

Jimmy glanced at me before pulling away from the curb. “So cool that you decided to come out tonight, Jules. Rox was beyond stoked. I mean, I literally had to put the phone down and back away from it. She was screeching that loudly in my ear.” He put a hand to it now, wincing. “I don’t think my hearing will ever be the same.”

When I smiled this time, it did feel genuine. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed lanky, goofy Jimmy. “Well, I couldn’t miss the party of the year, could I?”

“Yeah, should be a good time,” Jimmy said. “And a bunch of us are going to the football game next Friday, maybe get a bite to eat after. You should come.”

“Uh, maybe.” The truth was that I was far from ready to plunge back into social events. I was just going to the party because of the alcohol. It would be flowing freely there, and I planned on consuming as much as it took to take the edge off.

My gaze flicked over the empty seat beside me, the seat where Nick would sit when we went on double dates. I stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride, my chest tight.

We arrived at Scott’s house just as people were starting to trickle inside. I stepped into the foyer behind Roxy and Jimmy, blinking up at a huge crystal chandelier that glittered from the ten-foot ceiling.

Even though I’d been to parties at Scott’s before, I was still blown away by the place. The house was like a mansion. It had plush carpeting, gilt-framed mirrors and crown moulding. There was a big-screen TV in every room, a Jacuzzi, sauna, swimming pool, pool table, walk-in closets and a guest loft above a double-car garage that had its own private entrance. Couples often escaped to the loft for their own little private party.

We headed to the kitchen for a drink. At the long stainless-steel island, Roxy and I mixed vodka and cranberry juice, while Jimmy grabbed a beer and joined a group of his friends from the lacrosse team.

Leaning against the counter, I took a long swallow of my drink. It burned my throat and sent a trail of warmth down my stomach. I sighed. That was what I needed.

I listened to Roxy’s chatter with half an ear as I continued to drink. By the time my glass was empty, I was already feeling steadier, the emotions pushed down beneath the surface where they belonged. I poured another drink and gulped it down. Oh yeah, I had a good buzz going now. I was lighter, the constricted feeling in my chest considerably loosened. I even felt my face break into a bright smile as a few girls from our grade swarmed around us, begging us to join them in a game of pool downstairs in the rec room.

“I’m in!” Rox said. “What about you, Jules?”

“Maybe in a little bit. I want to check out the patio first.”

“All right. But don’t be too long.” She leaned towards me and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “I need your help kicking their asses.” Then she bumped her hip against mine with a laugh. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one enjoying a nice buzz.

I gave her a playful shove. “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

In order to get to the back patio, I would have to go through the living room. With a new drink in hand, I headed in that direction, eager for some fresh air.

In the cavernous living room, with its large ornate fireplace and long leather sofas, Trisha sat with one of her cheerleader friends.

Emboldened, I walked over to them, my steps just a tad wobbly. “Hey, Trisha.”

Trisha raised her head, her eyes narrowed. She was wearing way too much makeup. The thick eyeliner, bright blush and heavily caked-on fuchsia lipstick made her look even trashier than usual. Her purple miniskirt was way too tight and the matching top way too low. If she leaned forward even a little, her boobs would probably fall out.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “I’m just surprised you aren’t here with Luke, since you guys are so close.”

Trisha scowled. “He was supposed to meet me here, but he didn’t show. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“He blew you off, huh? Tough break.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever.” Turning back to her friend, she bent her head and whispered something in her ear. The other girl laughed in response.

I rolled my eyes and took another drink. “I know you asked Luke to call me a witch. And I also want you to know I don’t care. Don’t you get it by now?” I added, swaying on my feet a little. “Your pranks don’t bother me, especially this stupid one.”

Trisha rounded on me. “What prank?”

I set my empty glass down on the mantel. “Don’t play dumb with me. You got Luke to make up some crazy story about me doing witchcraft on him when we were kids. I mean, really, Trisha? Witchcraft? That’s a new one, even for you.” Through the haze of alcohol, the notion struck me as being not only crazy but completely hilarious. A laugh bubbled up in my chest.

Trisha’s face contorted into a look of utter contempt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better get out of my face before I get really pissed off.”

“You can deny it all you want,” I said, still laughing. “It’s obvious you put him up to it. You’ve given sexual favours for a lot less.”

Trisha’s jaw dropped and her face went an even brighter pink. “You…you little bitch!”

“Anyway, have fun being stood up.” I waggled my fingers at her and strode from the room. Out in the front hallway, I stopped and leaned against the wall, shaking my head in wonderment. I couldn’t believe I’d finally stood up to Trisha. It was amazing what a little liquid courage could do.

Now, where was I heading? Oh right, the patio. The confrontation with Trisha had distracted me so much that I’d gone in the wrong direction.

A group of girls entered the foyer, their loud voices carrying around the corner.

“Did you guys see Julia Parsons at school this week?” one of the girls asked. “Ugh, she’s still going about her day like nothing happened.”

“I know,” another voice chimed in. “I heard she didn’t show any emotion at the funeral. How heartless is that?”

“Yeah, they’re calling her ‘Ice Princess’. Sounds about right.”

“I would totally lose it if my mom and boyfriend died.”

They rounded the corner and stopped in their tracks when they saw me. Their chatter ceased abruptly. In the awkward silence, I lifted my chin and studied each one of their mortified faces in turn. Tenth graders.

“Hi, girls,” I said in a cool voice. “Well, don’t look so surprised to see me. Just going about my business.” Anger penetrated my buzz, coursing through me in thick, hot waves. My hands started to shake. Just like that, I was losing control of my emotions again. I needed more alcohol to beat them back.

Pushing past the girls, I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a half-empty bottle of vodka from the counter. A couple of football players whistled and hurled catcalls at me, but I ignored them and ran from the room.

Back in the hallway, I hesitated, the girls’ words resounding in my head. I wouldn’t have been able to show any emotion at the funeral, no matter how much I’d wanted to. At that point, the shock of Mom’s and Nick’s deaths had still been wrapped around me like a cocoon. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Everything and everyone had moved around me in a blur.

Now I wished for that numb-like state again. All I wanted to do was drink until I couldn’t feel anymore.

I looked around wildly, anxious to find somewhere to be alone. The problem was that there was nowhere to be alone at this party. The rooms were crammed with people drinking or making out. Music reverberated through the house, and the roar of laughter and conversation made my head hurt.

Then I remembered the guest loft.

While I might not be totally alone—a few people might’ve already gravitated up there—it would definitely be quieter than the main house.

Clasping the bottle against my chest, I shouldered my way through a new crowd forming in the foyer and stumbled onto the front steps. I paused for a moment to draw in several breaths of the cool, crisp air, then hurried around the side of the house.

The loft was situated over the three-car garage. I mounted a short flight of stairs and turned the knob on the solid oak door. Finding it unlocked, I pushed it open and looked around.

The large, open space had a combination living-dining area with white Persian rugs, glass tables and brocaded lamps. An adjacent kitchenette gave way to a short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. I heard a giggle from one behind one of the closed doors, but the main part of the loft was empty. That was good enough for me.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I sank onto a plush brown sectional and curled my legs underneath me. I tilted the bottle up to my mouth, took a long swallow, then coughed and sputtered as the vodka stung my throat.

“God, that’s nasty by itself,” I muttered. Still, I forced myself to take a second drink before plunking the bottle down on the coffee table with an unsteady hand. With my eyes closed, I leaned back against the sofa and let the alcohol do its work, numbing my pain like ice on a swollen, throbbing ankle. Soon a sleepy, relaxed feeling flowed from my head to my toes.

Through my mellowed state, I heard the door to the loft open and close. I opened my eyes, lifted my head and gave a slight jerk of surprise. Luke stood across the room.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He wore tattered Levi jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with the gold and white Harley Davidson logo. His jet-black hair stood up in wild tufts, and a cigarette was stuck behind one ear. He stared at me with eyes that glittered like blue ice, his dark brows raised slightly.

“So this is what a witch does on a Saturday night—hides out at a party, drinking alone.”

“If Trisha asked you to follow me and continue your little witchcraft story, you can forget it. I already told her I figured out her sick joke.”

“A joke,” he repeated, his voice flat.

I snorted. “Come on. Enough is enough already. She’s had her fun. Now just leave me alone, okay?”

He dug in his jeans pocket and withdrew a silver lighter. Then he crossed to the sectional and sat down close beside me. He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear, and as he lit it, I noticed the initials LM engraved on the front of the lighter in big block letters. He took a long drag before speaking again.

“Cut the bullshit, Julia, and just admit what you did.”

“Me? What did I do? Trisha is the one who—”

“Would you shut the hell up about Trisha? This has got nothing to do with her.”

“But she said you were supposed to meet her here and—”

“She lied,” he said, his tone rife with fury. “I only came to this lame party because I heard you tell your friend you were coming.”

“No, you’re the liar. You’re new at school and Trisha pounced on you. She made you say those things.”

“She didn’t make me say or do anything. Look… I heard the rumor around school. She wanted your boyfriend. You can blame her all you want for that, but—and I repeat—she has nothing to do with this.”

Through the fog of alcohol, a sense of apprehension was beginning to creep in, but I fought to keep my voice calm. “Just because Trisha didn’t tell you to say it doesn’t mean you’re not lying. And I don’t have to sit here and listen to you. You’re…you’re just some psycho who just got out of juvie.”

“Oh, juvie.” He laughed humorlessly. “That was just a misunderstanding. Some asshole store owner charged me for robbery. Truth was, I was just an innocent bystander. But enough about me.” He tossed his half-smoked cigarette onto the snow-white carpet and ground it under his shoe. His mouth turned up in a nasty smile. “Let’s talk about you—and what you did to me when we were kids.”

“I didn’t do anything to you.” He was taking this way too far, and I wasn’t going to stay and listen to his delusions. I lurched to my feet. “I have to go.”

I had barely taken a step when Luke shot up and seized my wrist. He yanked me back onto the sofa. I let out a cry of indignation and struggled to stand up again, but he tightened his grip on my wrist, holding me in place.

“It seems like I need to refresh your memory, Parsons.”

My stomach twisted into anxious knots, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. “I told you that I don’t remember anything from when I was five.”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot either. My father does, though. He saw everything that happened that day.”

“What day? You’re not making any sense.” And he was a total psycho. I was regretting my decision to come up to the loft alone.

The cool blue eyes locked with mine, boring into me with an intensity that unnerved me. “The day you threw a temper tantrum and used your freaky power. You opened up some world and I almost got sucked into it. You tried to send me away, witch. And a couple months ago, your mom used the same magic on my old man. Only she succeeded.”

Opened up a world? The idea was so ludicrous I almost laughed. I would have if he hadn’t been holding me against my will. “That’s crazy. Absolutely crazy.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “Now let me go.”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere until you bring my father back.”

By now my mellowed state had completely faded. It its place was a hot rush of anger that had me reeling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m sick of your twisted games. Now take your hand off me. My friends are waiting for me downstairs.”

In response, Luke pressed his fingers into my flesh so hard that I yelped in pain. “This isn’t a game. This is my dad’s life we’re talking about. Now, get him back.”

“And where exactly do you think he is?”

“Your mother sent my dad into that ugly mural you painted.” He leaned close, and the scent of cigarettes irritated my nostrils. “Like I told you yesterday, you Parsons witches can send people anywhere you want—even into a goddamn painting.”

My anger rose even higher now, and I was breathing rapidly as I tried to contain it. My face burned and my head ached. “Stop it,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Stop it right now.”

But even as I said it, I recalled what had happened with the poster in Roxy’s room—that freaky sensation of not being in control of my body—and the recent dizzy spells. Then, like a bolt of lightning, an image of the ratty teddy bear flashed through my brain again. Except this time, it hovered in the air, suspended against a backdrop of blue and white. I swallowed and shook the image from my head.

“You know it’s true,” Luke said. “Now I need you to do whatever it is you do when you move people between worlds and get him out of there.”

Before I could say anything else, the door to the loft opened and Roxy and Jimmy burst in.

Jimmy took one look at Luke’s hold on me and rushed forward. “Hey, let her go!”

Luke grunted but released me, lifting his hands up in surrender. “No worries, man. We were just having a little chat.”

“It didn’t look like that to me.” Jimmy narrowed his eyes at Luke.

“Chill out,” Luke said. “This has got nothing to do with you.”

“Actually, it does,” Roxy said. “Julia’s our friend.” She turned to me. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I took another deep breath, and as I focused on my best friend, my vision cleared. I found my centre again. “No, I’m all right,” I answered her, rubbing my wrist.

“When you didn’t come downstairs, I started to get worried. Someone told me they saw you come up here.”

“Yeah, I just wanted a few minutes alone. Then this creep”—I nodded in Luke’s direction—“followed me up here. But I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.”

“You got it,” Jimmy said, still shooting daggers Luke’s way. “Don’t let me see you touch her again.”

Luke ignored him. “We’re not done here, Julia.”

“What’s he talking about?” Roxy asked.

“Nothing. He’s crazy. Let’s go.”

We moved to leave. Jimmy led the way, Roxy bringing up the rear. At the entrance to the loft, I couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. I immediately wished I hadn’t. Luke’s eyes were cold, dark and calculating. I could feel them on me even as I turned and walked out of the door.