Strife

  “Hey, guys,” Robbie said. He pulled a few kernels from the top of my bag of popcorn and

  stuffed them in his mouth.

  “Watch it,” I joked. “Do you know how much that popcorn costs?” “I’ll pay you back,” Robbie promised, and placed his order for a large popcorn and two sodas. “And a box of Raisinets,” Bree added. I smiled at her. The blond girl gathered their order and lined everything up on the counter. As she was ringing their total, she said shyly, “Robbie?”

  Robbie gave her a blank look. “Yes?”

  The girl blushed. “I’m Jessica Watts . . . from Mrs. Carleson’s class? Fifth grade? You sat next to me.”

  “Jessica Watts?” Robbie repeated. He sounded shocked. I felt my own mouth drop open. Jessica Watts? I thought. As in “Mega Watts”? Bree and I had been in Mrs. Norton’s class in the fifth grade, while Robbie was across the hall with Mrs. Carleson. The classes didn’t really mix much, but Jessica Watts had been famous at our school. At the age of ten she had already weighed over 150 pounds. She got teased a lot and bullied because of her weight. Now it looked like she had lost thirty pounds—and grown four inches. She looked great.

  “Wow, Jessica,” Robbie said, “you lookterrific! I don’t know if you remember Bree and Morgan,” he went on, waving a hand at us. “They went to Widow’s Vale Elementary, too. And this is Hunter Niall,” he added.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi,” Bree said, checking her watch. “Robbie, the movie’s going to start in five minutes.” Robbie looked at her. For a minute I expected him to protest, but instead he just said, “Yeah, okay. We’d better find a seat. Great to see you, Jessica.” Jessica grinned. “See you around.”

  As we stepped away from the counter, Robbie was still shaking his head. “God, I can’t believe how great Jessica looks,” he said.

  Bree snorted impatiently. “She went on a diet—big deal.” “Bree!” I tossed a kernel of popcorn at her. She batted it away with annoyance.

  Robbie gave Bree a look. “I’m not just talking about the weight,” he insisted. “Back in fifth grade, Jessica always looked like a dog who was expecting to get kicked. She looks so much more confident now. . . .” His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant, and he was right. Bree didn’t answer, and I wondered why. She usually had an opinion to voice. I glanced at her sideways and noticed her fiddling with one strand of her dark, perfectly tousled hair. I had known Bree a long time, since we were little kids, and I knew what that gesture meant. She was worried.

  But what about? I wondered. It wasn’t like Bree to get jealous or possessive. In fact, Bree had a history of never letting any guy get too close. She had left a string of love casualties in her wake. I decided to ask her later what was up. Bree didn’t have the world’s greatest family life. I wondered whether everything was okay with her. “Are you two heading up to the balcony?” Bree asked as we neared the foot of the stairs. “Yup. Want to come?” I teased, knowing what the answer would be. We’d been having the same debate since the seventh grade.

  “Forget it,” Bree replied. “You know how I feel about that rickety old railing.” “See you guys later, then,” Robbie said. Bree and Robbie walked through the main entrance while Hunter and I headed up the side stairs.

  I smiled as we walked down the aisle to my favorite seats in the front of the balcony. Looking

  down on the theater below, I saw that there were quite a few heads in the main part. But the balcony was completely empty. We settled into our seats just as the opening credits began to roll. Hunter put his arm along the back of my seat and I leaned against him, feeling like a corny couple out of the fifties.

  “What’s this movie about, anyway?” Hunter whispered as the title flashed across the screen in letters of flame.

  “A bunch of guys kicking butt,” I replied. “Ah. Lovely.” Hunter settled back against his chair. About twenty minutes into the movie, I began to notice that he seemed uncomfortable. He shifted left, then right, then took his arm away from the back of my seat and gripped the armrest. “Are you okay?” I whispered. Hunter didn’t answer. I turned to look at him and gasped. His face, reflected in the strange shadows of the flickering movie screen, was dead white, and his mouth was opening and closing as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t form the words. My heart pounded as Hunter squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in his breath. I grabbed his arm and was nearly crushed by the weight of some unseen force. Wave after wave of emotions flooded over me—despair, agony, longing, regret, fear. Deep fear. The sensations were so strong that I thought they would overwhelm me as they ripped through my body. Then suddenly the flood of feelings stopped. Hunter sank down listlessly in his seat. It was over. I flopped back against my chair, exhausted, and listened to the sound of Hunter’s breathing—or was it my own? We were both inhaling in ragged gasps. “What happened?” I whispered.

  Hunter was pale, and his chest was still heaving. “It was my father,” he said softly. Cold fingers of dread crept up my spine. “Are you sure?” I asked in a hushed voice. Hunter’s father and mother had disappeared when Hunter was a child. In an effort to save themselves and their family, they’d placed their children with relatives and gone into hiding, running from the dark wave. Hunter hadn’t heard from them in years . . . until recently, when he’d received a scrying message that he felt certain was from his father. The meaning of the message was still unclear, but Hunter had sent a spelled seedpod down the Hudson River in the hope that he might make contact. But until now there had been no word, and I knew that Hunter feared the worst. “I’m positive,” he replied.

  “But—what does it mean?” I asked.

  Hunter sat forward, leaning his elbows against his knees. He stayed there a moment, hunched over in that position, as though completely drained. Finally he faced me. “I don’t know what it means,” he said, “but I’m going to find out.” I exhaled a long breath, trying to release the last of the fear and tension. I looked up at the movie screen. Its flickering images suddenly seemed like nonsense. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered. Hunter was already out of his seat by the time I finished my sentence. I spent the drive back thinking about Hunter’s message, wondering what it could mean. A glance over at Hunter showed me that his jaw was clenched and he was concentrating on the road. I watched the dark, hulking forms of trees flicker past the car windows, and I thought about what it must be like to know that your parents are out there somewhere. To know that they may need your help. And to be unable to give it.

  Soon Hunter’s battered Honda was gliding to a stop in front of his house. He shifted into neutral and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then wordlessly he swung open his car door and stepped out into the frigid night. I did the same, following him toward Das Boot. I would drive home

  from here.

  Hunter was staring out into the darkness. I didn’t feel ready to say good night. “Hunter,” I began, but my voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. I leaned in close and wrapped my arms around him, wishing I could just hold him and make it better. “I’m going to find them,” Hunter said simply. For a moment the words seemed to hang there, coiling around us in the quiet night air. Then he pulled away and turned to me, his green eyes glinting in the dimness with a strange, almost predatory look. “How?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Hunter said. “The council was supposed to pursue a few leads, but they haven’t had any new information in a long time. They told me not to act, but I think I’ve waited long enough. The time has come to step in myself.” “But you have no idea where they are!” I protested. Hunter shrugged. “Not yet,” he said. Then his gaze seemed to soften, and he looked into my eyes. He leaned over, and his lips met mine. His kiss was gentle but insistent, and I felt my heart race at his touch. His fingers felt beneath my jacket and traced along my back. I shivered and pulled away from him.

  “Hunter,” I said, “I know I sound like a goofy movie girlfriend, but will you please just promise that you’ll be careful?”

&
nbsp; He hesitated before finally shaking his head. “I’ll be as careful as I can.” I thought about the dark wave, about what it might take to rescue Hunter’s parents. He was right—carefulwasn’t a word that would go very far in helping them. “All right,” I said finally, fighting the wave of fear that I felt. It would have to be good enough. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight.” I gave him one final kiss, then swung open my car door and slid onto the seat. “Good night, Morgan.” Hunter turned, and his form retreated up the walk to his front door. I watched him until he went inside. Then I drove home, alone with my thoughts. I wished I understood what had happened. Memories of the violent emotions I’d felt swirled through my mind until I reached my house.

  The hallway was silent when I went inside. I shrugged off my coat and hung it on a peg, then pulled off my boots so that I wouldn’t track mud all over the house. “Hi, Mom,” I said, walking into the brightly lit kitchen. She was hunched over a pile of paperwork at the kitchen table. I pulled a glass out of the cabinet. “Getting in a little late, aren’t you?” my mom remarked. I stopped, confused. We’d left the movie early. “Didn’t you get my message?” I asked. “I was at the Pavilion with Hunter.”

  “I got your message,” my mom replied. “But Morgan, you know it’s a school night. Have you finished your homework?”

  I hesitated but couldn’t lie. “No,” I admitted. My mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Well, I don’t think I need to explain what my problem with that is,” she said. Her frown etched deep lines around her mouth, making her look older and tired. “Or do I? I don’t know, Morgan, lately I feel like your priorities have shifted.” “That’s not true,” I protested.

  “Isn’t it?” my mother asked. She looked even more weary, and there was a catch in her voice as she added, “You never join us at church anymore. I feel like we hardly see you—like you’re just disappearing from this family.”

  I suddenly realized why my mother had been so eager to get to know Hunter. It wasn’t just because she wanted to make sure that he was a decent person—it was because she felt like I was

  slipping away, and she wanted to bring me back. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a wave of

  guilt. “I guess I shouldn’t have stayed out late on a school night. I just thought that you and Dad liked Hunter so much, you wouldn’t mind. And I don’t have a lot of homework tonight. I can still finish.”

  “Morgan, I don’t want to force you to do things you don’t want to do.” My mom pushed away her paperwork and looked at me. “And I do like Hunter. But I miss you. We all do. I’d like to find a way to make sure that we can spend some time together.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe we could have a regular night to get together,” I suggested. “A family night or something.”

  My mom pursed her lips a moment and folded her arms across her chest, her thinking pose. “Well, maybe we could do something like that once a week.” I nodded, thinking that maybe, if we spent more time together, my parents might realize that it was possible for me to have both themandWicca in my life. “Okay,” my mom said finally. “I’ll check with Dad and Mary K., and we’ll set up a regular night.” She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll think of something fun we can do together.”

  I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. “Sounds good. I’m going upstairs to do my problem set. Sorry I was so late,” I said. Eyeing her paperwork, I added, “And don’t work too hard.”

  “Mmm.” My mom bent over her papers again. Biting into the apple, I went upstairs and crawled onto my bed with my calculus book. But the minute I got settled on my down comforter, the wave of exhaustion I’d been holding back all day washed over me with full force. I closed my eyes, intending to rest them for just a minute. I didn’t wake up until morning.

  Attack

  “You look gorgeous,” I told Bree as I ducked into her BMW, Breezy, on Saturday evening. She wore a soft-looking gray coat over black wool pants and managed to look sleek, sophisticated, and sexy all at once.

  “Thanks,” Bree said without enthusiasm.

  “So,” I said, “will Robbie be at the circle?” I actually already knew the answer to this—Robbie and I had chatted for about one second that afternoon before Mrs. Fiorello, my mom’s coworker, had beeped in on the other line and I’d had to hand the phone over to my mom. But I was looking for an opening. In fact, I’d asked Bree for a ride especially so I could talk to her. “Yeah, he’ll be there.” There was an odd note in her voice. My opening. “Is everything okay with you guys?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. “What do you mean?” Bree’s voice was taut, like a piano wire.“I don’t know, you just seem to be . . . not yourself lately.” I gripped the door handle, preparing

  for an attack. Bree could be prickly about personal comments. She sighed. “Yeah,” she said, and her voice trailed off into the darkness. The road hummed beneath us, and for a moment I thought that she wasn’t going to say anything else. “I’ve been feeling—I don’t know.” Bree shook her head, as if frustrated that the thoughts wouldn’t form a cohesive sentence for her. “I guess I’ve been feeling kind ofpossessive.” She laughed. “Pretty weird, huh?”

  “For you? Um, yeah,” I agreed. “You usually run for the hills when someone acts possessive with you.”

  “Tell me about it.” Bree scowled. “I just can’t seem to stop myself. It’s just—I’ve never felt this way about a guy before.”

  “But that’s great,” I said. “It means you care.” “Maybe.” Bree sounded doubtful. “I’ve never really let myself get this close to someone before. I guess this is why.” Running an impatient hand through her dark hair, she added, “I really hate the way I’m feeling right now, Morgan. I hate the way I’m acting. I don’t want to be clingy and needy—but I just don’t want to let Robbie out of my sight. I guess I’m just worried that he’s going to get bored with me or something. That now that I actually care about someone, he’s going to move on.”

  I reached over and grabbed Bree’s hand. Even through our gloves, I could feel her hand radiating heat. “That’s not going to happen,” I assured her. “Robbie is nuts about you. He’s been nuts about you for a long time—and that’s not going to change.” I pictured Robbie in my mind, remembering how he’d confessed to me his feelings for Bree. “Besides, he’d never want to hurt you.”

  Bree squeezed my hand. There was a catch in her voice as she said, “I know.” I leaned my head against the cool passenger’s-side window. I wanted to say more, but we were almost at Alisa’s house, and I didn’t want to discuss this in front of her. My breath made a steamy crescent on the side of the window, and I remembered the two of us in elementary school, breathing on the cold glass of the school bus window and writing our names in the steam. That was before Bree’s mom moved away to live with her boyfriend in Europe. It was before her older brother, Ty, went off to college and before Bree’s corporate-lawyer father began working so hard that she hardly ever saw him anymore. Bree was so beautiful and poised, it was easy to forget that her life was sort of lonely. Until now, she’d always kept the guys she dated at a safe distance. But Robbie was different—they’d been friends before they started going out, and he knew her too well to be satisfied with staying at arm’s length. He was chipping away at the wall that surrounded her. I wondered whether it would open her up to caring about people in a new way or whether it might make her crumble. I briefly considered talking to Robbie about what was going on with Bree but rejected the thought. It was their relationship, after all. Instead I asked her, “Have you spoken to Robbie about this?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Maybe you should.”

  Bree bit her lip and didn’t reply. She made a left turn. The silence yawned between us as we pulled up into the circular driveway in front of a small, tidy ranch-style house. Alisa must have been watching for us because a moment later she hurried out the front door. Bree turned to me. “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she said quickly. Good, I thought. I’d done my good deed for
the day.

  Alisa said a shy hello, and Bree eased the car back onto the road toward Hunter’s house. The car

  was silent for the rest of the drive. I guess we were all lost in our own thoughts. Hunter’s small living room was already filling up by the time we arrived. The room was lit by the warm glow of candles, and in the soft light the worn furniture seemed comfortable and welcoming. The air was heavy with the scent of mulling spices—Sky must have put a pot of cider on the stove. Robbie stood in the corner, talking to Simon Bakehouse, but the minute we walked in, he flashed Bree an enormous grin and hurried over. I gave Bree an I-told-you-so look, and she smiled as Robbie draped an arm around her shoulders. They melted into the rear of the room.

  From his place by the tattered armchair, Hunter waved to me and continued an intense-looking conversation with Sky. Jenna came over and said hello to me, and she and I chatted for a few minutes. “Are you feeling all right?” I asked. “My asthma’s bothering me,” she admitted. “I took a shot off my inhaler before I came here, but it hasn’t helped much.”

  I resisted the urge to lay my hands on her back. I’d helped her with her asthma before. But I knew that Hunter and Sky frowned on such practices, and I was trying to show them that I’d turned over a new leaf.

  Not everyone had arrived yet, so I headed to the kitchen to help myself to cider. When I pushed open the door, I was surprised to see Alisa sitting alone at the small table, staring off into space. I hesitated a moment, reluctant to barge in on her. But I decided it would look weird to scurry away, so I just plowed ahead.