314 Book 2 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Page 3

  “Who’s the witch?” asked Alma, but the boy couldn’t hear her anymore. The alarm was so loud now that it hurt their ears. The children winced and covered the sides of their heads. Alma did the same, but kept yelling out her question until the pain from the alarm was impossible to overcome. She closed her eyes and fell to the ground where Aubrey’s blood wet her cheek.

  Then it was over, and Alma felt her stomach lurch, just like it did when she descended the hill on her way into Widowsfield.

  * * *

  Jacker was driving the van as they left Widowsfield.

  Stephen was in the passenger seat and was toying with his camera. Rachel, Alma, and Aubrey were in the back, crunched together on the middle seat. The entire rear seat of the van was loaded with Stephen’s equipment, which required the girls to all sit together.

  “I can’t wait to get home,” said Rachel. “I’m going to sleep for, like, twelve hours straight.”

  Alma had her hands in her coat pocket and was rubbing her thumb against a small piece of soft fabric on her keychain. The sensation soothed her.

  “My eye won’t stop watering,” said Aubrey. “And I’ve got the worst stomach ache.”

  “Stop the van!” Alma’s sudden outburst scared everyone in the vehicle. She leapt from her seat between Aubrey and Rachel and grabbed at Jacker’s shoulder as she pleaded again, “Stop the van!”

  Jacker hit the brakes and the van skid to a stop on the road leaving Widowsfield. It was foggy out, and there was a heaviness to the air that hinted of rain. Alma felt lost for breath as the others asked what was wrong.

  A car honked from behind them, and then swerved to go around. The car’s tires squealed as it passed on the wet road and Alma caught a glimpse of the driver.

  It was her father.

  Chapter 2 – Dragged Along

  I never thought of myself as a very good liar, but I’m a fast learner.

  I think I heard once that the average person lies several hundred times a day. Those are mostly little lies though, like telling someone that you’re having a good day when you’ve never been more depressed. Those are hardly lies. They’re more an adherence to social order.

  The really big lies are taxing. They start small, but to stay alive they have to be nurtured. Over time, those little lies grow bigger as they’re joined by more lies. They grow and grow together, massing into one twisted distortion of reality. It becomes monstrous, and requires a great amount of effort to be sustained. Before you know it, what started as a little lie can overwhelm you, and you’ll end up dragging other people into it as a way of keeping it all together.

  Now start going backwards, and you’ll have an idea of what I’m dealing with. Start with a big lie, one that no one would believe, and then work your way backward, breaking the lie down into smaller chunks as you go. Head all the way back to the very beginning, to that very first lie, and you can control the whole thing. If you knew the outcome of every lie before you ever even told it, you could do anything you wanted.

  As long as you don’t forget where the lying started.

  Chicago, Illinois

  January 18th, 2007

  “What’s it going to hurt?” asked Mindy.

  Nia shrugged as she sipped her boba tea through a wide straw that was stabbed into the thin plastic top of her cup. The brown tapioca pearls at the bottom of the mango flavored drink shot up the straw and filled her cheeks. She enjoyed lining them up along the side of her teeth and then biting through each of them one by one.

  “Come on.” Mindy continued to pry. “At least just go with me.”

  “You don’t think it’s weird?” asked Nia, her voice garbled by the mouthful of pearls.

  “Who gives a fuck if it is?” Mindy chuckled as she shook her head and raised one corner of her lips. “I need the money.”

  Nia looked down at the folded newspaper on the counter of the juice shop where they were sitting. Mindy had found an ad offering to pay fifty dollars to anyone willing to participate in an ESP study, and five hundred to anyone that demonstrated results.

  “And you need the money too.” Mindy didn’t have trouble finding jobs, but she was terrible at keeping them. She’d grown up in southern Indiana, a square peg in a place full of circles. She’d been ostracized in her home town, and fled to the city as soon as she was able. Mindy was a large girl, and very short, topping off at barely more than four and a half feet tall.

  Nia stood in stark contrast to her pasty white friend. Nia was six foot, black, and as timid as God made girls. She was the definition of an introvert, but somehow ended up with extrovert friends like Mindy. She was cursed to tower over her friend, and just about everyone else, a constant attraction everywhere she went.

  “I think it’s a scam,” said Nia.

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Mindy. “So what?” She sucked up the last of the pearls in her plastic cup of iced watermelon tea, and then swirled the straw in search of more. Nia preferred the watermelon flavor to the mango she had bought, but was always conscious of the racist connotation to that fruit. She avoided ordering watermelon of any sort, not because she was trying to make a statement, but because she wanted to avoid any conversation about it. There was nothing worse than pretending to smile as some asshole hipster makes a joke about post-modern racism. Fried chicken was also off the menu, although Nia often went through the Popeyes’ drive-thru when alone.

  “I just don’t want to go.”

  “Come on,” said Mindy, ever pressing. If anyone should take up a career as a salesperson, it was Mindy Haverford. Although Nia suspected it wouldn’t take more than a few days before Mindy tired of whatever sales job she took on, and began to despise the product she was selling. “You’re the only other person I know that has the voodoo.”

  Mindy tapped her friend’s temple as they sat on the stools beside the counter that looked out on Clark Street. Nia cringed and moved away, annoyed by Mindy’s prodding.

  “I don’t have anything like that,” said Nia in a hushed tone.

  “Sure you do,” said Mindy. “And if you learned to embrace it, you’d be getting better at it, like I am.” Mindy saw one of the juice bar’s employees passing, a scrawny boy whose hair was dyed green. “Hey, Captain Planet,” said Mindy as she held her empty cup out to him. “Could you be a heartthrob and toss this out for me?”

  “Captain Planet, huh?” asked the grumpy teen as he scowled, but he took the cup anyhow. Nia admired the boy’s Bruce Lee t-shirt depicting the martial arts legend with his shirt off and scratches on his cheek and chest.

  “Make sure to recycle,” said Mindy before she feigned an unenthusiastic cheer. “Save the planet.”

  “Be nice,” said Nia.

  “What? I am being nice. Just trying to lighten the kid up a little. Every time I’m in here he’s got a frown on his mug.” Mindy collected her newspaper and stuffed it into her black backpack. “So it’s settled then, right? You’ll go with me?”

  “No,” said Nia with a surprised chuckle. “It’s not settled.”

  “Yes it is,” said Mindy as she took Nia by the crook of her arm. “Now come on. They’re only doing this until three.”

  Mindy led Nia out of the juice bar and then went to the corner of Clark and Belmont, a few shops down, where she scanned for a cab. There was a taxi parked in the Dunkin Donuts shop across the street, and they ran to it before anyone else could take it.

  The driver was in his seat with his windows rolled up and the engine running. It was bitterly cold out, and the Windy City was earning its moniker. Nia shivered in her parka and looked up at the grey sky as it produced a dusting of flurries. Mindy knocked on the cabbie’s window and the Indian man scowled at her as he pointed up.

  “What?” asked Mindy, annoyed. “What does this mean?” She pointed at the sky, mocking him.

  The driver shook his head and looked frustrated as he rolled down his window just far enough to talk to them. “My light is off,” he said in a thick accent. “I’m on break.”

>   Mindy put her hand on the window to keep the driver from rolling it up. “Come on, man. We’re just headed up to Ashland.”

  “Sorry, no.” The driver tried to roll up the window, even with Mindy’s fingers there. Then he stopped when it was apparent she wasn’t going to let go.

  “Come on,” said Mindy.

  “No means no. Now let go.”

  “It’s just a few blocks!”

  “I said no, crazy lady.”

  “Come on, Mindy,” said Nia.

  “Listen to your friend,” said the cabbie. Then he put his doughnut down on his leg and started to push at Mindy’s fingers. “Leave me in peace.”

  “Let’s just walk,” said Nia. “It’s not that far.”

  Mindy finally let go of the window and then flipped the driver off. He reciprocated before getting back to his food. “But it’s freezing out here.”

  “It doesn’t make much sense to pay a cabbie to drive us someplace so we can make fifty bucks.” Nia started walking without Mindy, certain her friend would follow.

  “Can you believe that asshole?” asked Mindy. “What a douche.”

  “He’s on his break,” said Nia. “I don’t think you would’ve been too happy if you were on your break at Whole Foods and someone started begging you to go find them a coconut or whatever.”

  “Fuck that job,” said Mindy. “My manager was a prick. He would’ve been happy to pull me off break to go get to work. That’s one of the reasons I quit.”

  “So then how can you be pissed at that guy?”

  “Oh quit,” said Mindy. Whenever she was losing an argument she liked to change the subject. “Can we just focus on where we’re going? What do you think they need psychics for?”

  Nia cupped her hands and blew into them, then rubbed them together as she tried to get warm. She’d left without gloves this morning, tricked by the fleeting sunshine of that morning that it was going to be a rare, warm January day in Chicago. It was unusual for Nia to go anywhere without gloves, even during warmer months. She preferred not to touch things. “Who knows?”

  “Well, I guess a real good psychic would,” said Mindy, following the statement with a loud chortle.

  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” said Nia. “You know how I feel about this sort of stuff.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so weird about it,” said Mindy.

  “Weird about what?”

  “Weird about your abilities.” Mindy elbowed her friend. “You should be proud of it.”

  “Mindy, honestly, I think you’re overblowing this whole thing. I don’t even know if I believe in psychics, or ESP, or anything like that. I believe in the sixth sense, for sure, but that’s about as far as I’ll go.”

  “Call it whatever you want,” said Mindy as she sped along. She might’ve been short and chubby, but the girl walked at the speed that some people run. “But ever since I met you, you’ve known shit about me that I swear I never told you.”

  “You probably just don’t remember telling me,” said Nia.

  “Bullshit.” Mindy held up her hand and pointed at a silver ring, made to look like a series of vines curled together and forming a circle. “You knew my boy-toy back in Indiana bought this for me, and I know I never told you that. I’ve never told anyone that, because I was cheating on Mike at the time, and I didn’t want anyone to know I had a booty call back in Hicksville.”

  “I’m sure you did tell me and just didn’t remember,” said Nia as she crossed her arms and tucked her fingers under them.

  “You’re wrong,” said Mindy.

  Nia gave Mindy a sly smile. “Well how about we test it out. Let me borrow the ring, and I’ll try to remember the last time you and Mike had sex while you were wearing it.”

  “Okay,” said Mindy without a moment’s pause. She started to take off the ring.

  “I was joking,” said Nia.

  Mindy held the ring out to her friend. “I’m not. Spy on my sex life all you want, my little voodoo-queen pervert. I don’t care.”

  Nia took the ring but shook her head in disbelief.

  “Go ahead and put it on.”

  “I can’t just put it on and suddenly remember everything,” said Nia. “It only works like that every now and again.”

  “Well, borrow it and when you think you’ve figured me out, give it back.”

  “Fine,” said Nia, more as a way of ending the conversation than anything else.

  They walked up to Mindy’s former place of employment, which was on the way, and stopped in to get warm. Nia stayed silent as Mindy chatted with former coworkers about how much they hated their manager, and then they enjoyed a free cup of coffee before heading out again. Mindy didn’t tell anyone where they were headed, respectful of Nia’s distaste for the subject of her supposed powers.

  When they set out again, Mindy regaled Nia with a lengthy explanation about what went wrong in her relationship with Mike, and how happy she was to be single again. Nia listened, but her mind was elsewhere. She was nervous about meeting with the scientists that were looking for ‘gifted’ individuals. There were some gifts that weren’t meant to be opened.

  Nia had grown up in a strict Baptist home, with parents that were quick to accuse even the most mundane things as blasphemous. There was no telling what would become the target of their scorn next, with everything from headbands to bracelets earning their wrath at one point or another. As it turned out, her father’s zealousness was a mask to hide his own sins, a fact that had been revealed to Nia one day when she held her father’s wallet.

  It was a moment that would haunt Nia her entire life. Her father was home, asleep on the couch, when the ice cream truck took a rare jaunt through Nia’s neighborhood. Her brothers convinced her to go in and find some money while they stopped the truck, and she tiptoed through the house in search of any spare change they could use. She stopped when she passed her father’s wallet on the coffee table.

  Nia had never stolen anything in her life, but she saw the corners of several bills poking out from the edge of her father’s leather billfold. Before she could stop herself, Nia picked the wallet up to see how much money was inside. She was terrified, and her heart raced, but she took the money anyhow. That was the first moment that an object had spoken to her, and she wasn’t certain what was happening.

  The experience wasn’t as dramatic as most people might suspect. She didn’t have a vision, or hear a voice telling her about her father’s infidelity. Instead, Nia was just suddenly aware of the fact that her father had a mistress who he’d offered this money to. She knew he’d taken the cash out of his wallet and tried to give it to her, but the tall, skinny woman threw it back at him as she cried. Nia knew the girl’s name, without ever having met her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” asked her father as he awoke.

  Nia had been frozen for a moment, holding his wallet as she recalled his history with the strange woman. He sat up from the couch, wearing only a pair of jeans, his strong chest dripping sweat. “Girl, I asked you a damn question. What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She had the dollars in one hand and the wallet in the other. Nia held the money up and squeaked out an answer, “Getting money for the ice cream man.” All the while, the truck’s music twanged outside, providing a soundtrack to Nia’s terror.

  “More like stealing money,” said her father as he stood up and snatched the money out of Nia’s hand. He splayed the bills, a meager twenty or thirty dollars in all. “You want ice cream? What about dinner? What about clothes? What about all the other shit I buy for you? Do you know what this money’s for? Huh?” He lunged across the coffee table and slapped Nia hard enough to knock the seven-year-old to the floor. “Do you know what this money’s for?” He shook the bills at her.

  “Is it for Veronica?” asked Nia, giving the name of her father’s mistress.

  He stopped, not even breathing as his eyes grew wide. “What did you say?” he asked, speaking quiete
r than before. The malice in his tone should’ve been reserved for nightmares.

  “Nothing, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Nia didn’t understand what she’d done wrong, but he was clearly incensed. She was certain he’d offered the money to Veronica, but couldn’t have explained how she knew it.

  “Have you been spying on me?” His look of shock turned to fury as he unhooked his belt buckle.

  “No, Daddy!”

  “How do you know about Veronica?”

  “Daddy, please don’t!”

  He came around the table and grabbed his daughter’s wrist. He jerked her up and held her arm in the air so that only the tips of her toes touched the floor. With his other hand he slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans. The sound it made as it came out reminded Nia of a snake hissing in the muggy living room. She closed her eyes and pleaded for mercy as the ice cream truck sang its song outside. Her brothers laughed, their voices distant as they cavorted on the street to delay the ice cream truck, all while Nia cried.

  Her father ripped Nia’s skirt off and whipped her. Each strike of the belt brought new memories of horrible moments. Every time he’d used that belt to whip her brothers came surging into her mind with each thwack. She felt their pain, along with her own, and the belt snapped against her naked rear with an echoing thunder that seemed far louder than it should’ve been.

  Nia was never certain how she learned the secrets she did, but her father taught her to keep her mouth shut about them. She remembered his lesson well.

  Mindy prattled on about her failed relationships, insisting that it was anyone’s fault but her own. However, just like with Mindy’s jobs, Nia suspected her friend was often the true culprit of her own misery.

  “This is it,” said Mindy as they finally got to the office building on Ashland.

  “What time is it?” asked Nia.

  “Quarter till,” said Mindy. “We just made it, which is a bit of a miracle. Remind me to call that cab company and raise hell.”

  Nia didn’t bother reminding Mindy that they’d spent a good amount of time chatting with her former coworkers at the grocery store, which played a part in why it took them so long to get there.