Captivate

  He nods again and a goofy smile spreads across his face. “You are such a diva sometimes.”

  “I am not a diva. My wrist is sprained and I have a monster bruise all over my chest.” I let go of his hand.

  “Yep. You just think you’re too good for a Downeast Maine bowling date.”

  “I do not think I’m too good for a bowling date, in Maine or anywhere else, thank you very much,” I say, yanking the door open. Cold air blasts in. I jump out, shut the door, and meet him at the front of the MINI. “I just think a bowling date is a little . . . um. . .”

  He presses the key fob button. “I can make it romantic.”

  I snort and grab his hand. Our fingers clasp each other’s again and I feel grounded, connected, better. That’s only part of the truth. Everything still feels dangerous—like we could be attacked any moment, like some warrior woman might swoop out of the pitch-black sky and take us away.

  We stride across the parking lot. I try not to step on the icy patches, sort of zigzag around them, even though I know if I start to fall Nick will catch me. There is a flashing neon bowling pin on the bowling alley sign. It is incredibly tacky in kind of a cool retro way. He hustles me toward the glass front doors and grabs the metal handle. I touch his arm. “Nick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve never actually, um, bowled before.”

  “So?”

  “So, well, I’m probably going to suck. Plus, you know . . . slightly sprained wrist.” I hold it up to prove my point.

  He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll help. It’ll be fun.”

  “I hate sucking at things.”

  “It’s good for you. Keeps you humble.”

  “Yeah right, says He Who Sucks at Nothing.”

  He yanks open the big metal door. “Not true.”

  I say as I step inside, “Totally true. Name one thing you actually suck at—”

  “Being calm. Not being patronizing.”

  “Well, at least you’re self-aware, right?” Laughing, I step inside the bowling alley. Issie and Devyn and a ton of people from school are already there. Issie’s renting shoes at a long counter. Cassidy is already bowling. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling. Shifting lights flash across the entire alley and they are playing retro eighties music.

  “What do you think?” Nick whispers.

  “I love it!”

  The love doesn’t last very long because, okay, let’s face it. Bowling is evil.

  “I am developing a bowling phobia,” I tell Issie before I go up for my next turn. If there is a name for the fear of a painful bowel movement (defecaloesiophobia) there should be a word for the fear of bowling. Bowling is definitely phobia worthy.

  I hold the ball in my one hand. Luckily, it’s candlepin, which is some weird kind of mini bowling ball that they have in New England. It’s lighter and stuff. I try to think about form and alignment and the physics of it, which Dev went on and on about during my crash course. It doesn’t help. The annoying brown bowling ball veers totally off to the left and clanks into the gutter every time.

  “Why is it not doing what it’s supposed to?” I yell as I turn around. Nick cracks up, all doubled over. Dev’s hand covers his mouth and his shoulders shake because he’s trying not to become hysterical.

  Issie straight-arm points at them. “No laughing.”

  “It’s not staying in the lane,” I say. I check to make sure the latch on my anklet is secure. It’s so delicate. I’m terrified of losing it.

  “You have to roll it straight,” Nick says. He stands up and grabs a ball out of the ball return bin thingy that’s between all the lanes.

  Bowling balls crash into pins in other lanes. Cassidy squeals, “I rock!”

  “Awesome job, Cassidy!” Devyn yells.

  Issie starts trying to tie her shoes better, fumbling around with the laces.

  “Okay. First, when you throw the ball with your right hand you want your left foot to be the one in front. Opposite way if you’re doing it leftie,” Nick says. He puts the ball in my hand. Our fingers touch. Something electric passes between them. I sniff. He smells good, like trees and mint and cake.

  “Uh-huh.”

  More pins fall down. More balls thunder down the wooden lanes. He takes my good arm and swings it back in slow motion. “You want to keep your wrist and palm rigid, don’t bend it.”

  “But the ball is heavy. How do I not bend it?”

  Nick’s fingers steadily brush against my skin. Warmth shivers up my tendons and ligaments. I try not to sway.

  “They’re candlepin, Zara,” Dev says. He’s got a ball balanced on his lap, patiently awaiting his turn, but obviously thinking I’m a complete fool. “They aren’t even big balls.”

  Issie starts snorting. “Big balls.”

  I snort too.

  Dev groans. “You guys are not mature.”

  “Okay, let’s just try it. I’ll help you,” Nick says. He’s still right behind me, swinging my arm for me. I am so focused on the heat radiating from him that I almost turn around and hug him. Then I remember. I release. I release really, really late. The ball lobs through the air and plunks in the middle of the lane. It smacks. People stare.

  “No throwing! You’ll damage the floors!” the bowling attendant person yells from behind the counter.

  I hide my face behind my hands and run back to Issie. “Did I hit anything, at least?”

  “No, sweetie. Sorry.”

  “I think it’s her follow-through,” Nick says to Dev. “She has no follow-through.”

  “She’s not meant for bowling,” Dev agrees. “The trajectory is all off.”

  I slump down and cross my arms over my chest. “Nice. Totally nice thing to say to me when I’m still trying to recover. Injured. Remember?”

  Dev blushes. “Sorry, Zara.”

  I punch him in the arm. “Just kidding.”

  “You know what I like about the Norse gods?” he asks randomly. “I like that Odin was their head guy and it wasn’t because he was the hottest or strongest. It was because he was the wisest with the best magic.”

  “And this has to do with bowling, how?” I ask as Issie gets a fantastic gutter ball.

  “Because in the big scheme of things it’s not always the physically gifted who rule,” Devyn says. “Being in the chair helped me understand that. I’d give up my legs over my mind any day. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to have them back.”

  Devyn’s right. So what if I am a horrible bowler. Besides, I can’t feel too sad about having ten gutter balls in a row, since Issie is even worse.

  “Eleven!” she squeals. “That’s eleven zeros in a row.”

  “This is so normal,” I whisper to Nick. “It’s so wonderful normal.”

  . . .

  About halfway through the night, I head off to the girls’ bathroom alone, which is very brave of me, apparently.

  Cassidy is in there washing her hands at the sink across from two blue stalls. “Zara? Hey!”

  “Hi, Cassidy.” I try to be nice because there’s really no reason to hate her. It’s just that she’s a threat to the love that should be Is and Devyn.

  She squints at me a couple of times, shuts the water off, and says, “Nick doing okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I ask as she starts wagging her hands in the air to dry them.

  She stumbles around for the words. “Yeah . . . he just . . . he looked a little off at school today. Something happen at lunch?”

  “He’s okay,” I say.

  “You guys are honestly just the cutest couple.”

  I cock my head. I have to pee but I don’t move. I wait for her to say more.

  “You are!” she says, scratching at her neck. “You are lucky! Don’t look at me that way. I know you had to move up here from Charleston and everything, but it’s like . . . oh, I don’t know. You and Issie are like this.” She makes her first two fingers stick together.

  I nod and try to say pretty pointedly, “She’s my be
st friend.”

  “Plus, with Dev, it’s like you’re a gang of four.” She keeps talking. “I get jealous of it, you know? And you have Nick and he so obviously is into you. He’s always watching you and smiling at you. He’s like a bodyguard.”

  I grab the handle of the stall door and stare out of the tiny black window that’s way up on the wall at the opposite side of the room. It’s just a rectangle of darkness. A bodyguard. Is that why he loves me? Because I’m someone he can protect?

  “And you’re smart but not nerdy. And you are such a great runner.” Cassidy finishes her lip gloss, smacks her lips, and tosses the tube back in her purse, which looks like it’s a Kate Spade knockoff. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just talking crap, but it’s like your life has already started and the rest of us are just waiting . . . you know? Waiting to get out of here or something? To find someone? Something? To be something.”

  I have no idea if she’s talking about liking Devyn or just in general. I guess I take too long to answer, because she smiles at herself, shaking her head. “I’m obviously an idiot. I need a life.”

  I touch her arm with my free hand. “You have a life, Cassidy.”

  “Yeah, right.” She snorts. “I feel like I spend half my time hiding who I really am.”

  “I can relate to that.”

  “Really?” She stretches her long arms up above her head. She reminds me of a cat waking up. “Devyn’s one of the few people who really ‘get’ me, you know? But it’s lonely.”

  “What’s lonely?”

  “Not having people really understand you.”

  “Well, you could tell them, maybe? Just be open.” For a second I wonder if she’s a pixie, but Devyn and Nick would be able to smell that. Then I wonder if she’s maybe gay? I don’t know. I wish I were some kind of feel-good talk-show host so I’d know what to say. “Is it something serious? Something you need help with?”

  “Oh, Zara, you are so sweet. I totally don’t need any help. I’m fine.” She looks at my hand, still holding the stall door. “Oh wow. You still haven’t gone pee. I’m so sorry. Take care of Nick, okay?”

  She rushes out the door before I can answer. So I do what I’ve come into the bathroom to do and then I go wash my hands. I turn the water on and bang on the soap dispenser to try to make it work. I push it again. A little drizzle of neon pink liquid soap leaks out. “Beautiful.”

  The soap smells like vomit. It makes my skin feel creepy, almost spidery creepy. I rub it on anyway and put my hand under the water. That’s when I look up and see myself in the mirror. I’m blue. I’m blue again. I am so blue that I match the bathroom stall doors.

  My butt hits those doors because I guess I’ve backed up. I don’t know. I rush forward again, yank some brown paper towels out of the dispenser, shove them under the faucet and wet them. I scrub them across my face.

  “It’s not going to work,” a voice above me says.

  I scream, bang my hip against the sink, and pivot, my hands in fists. Astley is hanging by his hands through the now-open window.

  “Go away!” I order. He drops onto the floor. His shoes barely make a noise even though he looks heavy. He’s almost as big as Nick now. His muscles are bulkier, too. It’s like he keeps growing. “Randomly showing up is not cool. It’s creepy.”

  He eyes me. “You’re blue again.”

  “Obviously.”

  He swallows. I can actually see him swallow. He takes a step toward me. “I’ve only just arrived and you’re already blue.”

  I turn away from him, stare at the monster in the mirror. “I wish I weren’t.”

  “If you were pixie you wouldn’t be. You could hide it.”

  “I’m not pixie,” I snarl. I lean forward. My forehead touches the gross mirror. It’s cold. I don’t care. I stare at the sink; white porcelain, cracked in places, ugly.

  His fingers graze my shoulder and I jump. “Zara?”

  “What?”

  “Are you always so nervous?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” My hand rubs at my face wildly.

  He grabs it. “You need to calm down.”

  “How can I calm down? I’m blue. And my boyfriend hates pixies.”

  “All pixies?”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Yes, I can. We aren’t all bad.” His eyes are dark, deep.

  “Right.” I somehow want to believe him though.

  “Really. We aren’t, Zara. And I think somewhere, deep down, you know that.”

  He lets go of my hand.

  I try to unwrap the scared anger that seems to be enveloping me. I take a big breath and ask, “Why are you here?”

  “Didn’t we go through this?” He sighs.

  “No. I mean right now. Why are you here in the girls’ bathroom with me?”

  He pulls his lips in toward his mouth before he speaks. “I wanted to warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  “Dangerous things are happening. You need to be careful. You should stay in groups. Try to stay inside. Warn your friends, too. Your grandmother.”

  “Warn them about what?”

  “Another king has arrived.”

  Pixie Tip

  Pixies have sharklike teeth. Unfortunately, unlike sharks they can breathe out of the water.

  “What other king?” I spin away from the mirror to face him. The spinning movement continues even after I stop. My voice creeps up high into hysteria but I can’t stop it. “How many of you are there? Man! It’s like a freaking pixie infestation.”

  He grabs my arms.

  I yank away. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  He cringes and his hands stay up in the air grabbing nothing. “You looked like you were going to fall. I was trying to help you.”

  “You want to help me? You tell me what you mean about other kings and danger and then you leave so my face stops being blue, okay?” I sway a little and lean my hip against the sink for balance. “Tell me about the Valkyrie too.”

  He takes a step closer. “I think I make you dizzy, as well.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” My swimming head seems to agree.

  His face softens. He lifts a hand up like he’s going to touch my cheek.

  “Don’t,” I insist. I feel like I’m cheating on Nick just by talking to him, which makes no sense since I talk to other guys all the time. “Please. Just tell me about the king.”

  His hand drops to his side. “He’s here. He’s vicious, a rogue, not supported by our federation.”

  “Federation?”

  “The Pixie Federation.” He brushes the thought aside. “It’s complicated. Each kingdom is allied in a federation, which is ruled by a parliament of kings. We try to keep things in order, keep us safe from humans and humans safe from us, but sometimes things get messy, and not all of us are in favor of the federation. And some of us want more power—”

  “Like this rogue guy?” I finish.

  “He will battle me for your father’s territory. It will hopefully be short-lived. It has already begun. I lost one of mine already. She was a physician.” His eyes sadden.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this.” The sink is cold against my hip. The coldness is so true it crosses the barrier of my pants and shudders into my skin.

  “Zara, there is no choice. Your father was weak. You’ve imprisoned him. You’ve imprisoned some of my scouts with him. I have to free my people but I also need to control the territory. To do that I need to overthrow the king. It’s already been sanctioned.”

  The room shakes because someone’s flushed a toilet in the boys’ restroom. The pipes must be connected. I ask my question slowly. “By overthrow, do you mean kill?”

  He nods.

  “I can’t let you kill him.” There’s no emotion in my words. There’s just truth.

  “You can’t stop it, Zara. If I don’t, the other king will. It’s just a matter of who gets there first. And honestly? Do you think killing is a worse fate than what’s going on in that house right now
?”

  I don’t answer.

  “The other king has sent scouts too.” His face hardens. “And Zara—he is not like me. He is not even like your father. He is much, much worse.”

  “Why don’t you kill him then? Go after his territory?”

  “I’m not strong enough to do that yet. I need your father’s forces. I need numbers.”

  “Numbers,” I mumble, trying to understand.

  “He is strong. He is dark. That side”—his voice goes bitter—“always has an easy time gathering numbers, troops, whatever you want to call it.”

  “But you are the side of good?” I swallow, turn away from him, and turn the water on. It rushes out into my hands, my blue hands. “Don’t you think everyone thinks they’re on the side of good? Did that Valkyrie woman?”

  “I’m sure she did.” He touches my shoulder. I jump back. He turns me around to face him. The water still runs. It races out of the faucet. It races away.

  “I am on the side of good, as are you. Your wolf will even be on the side of good. We all have roles to play,” he says. “Your face reveals that destiny.”

  I blink hard a couple of times. His face distracts me. “I don’t believe in destiny.”

  We stand like that for a second, then he drops his hand. I remember to breathe.

  “So what should I do?” I ask, reaching behind me and shutting off the faucet.

  He almost laughs. He goes back toward the stalls and leans against them like that’s sexy or something. Note: leaning against public bathroom stalls? Never sexy. “Well, if it were up to me, you would show me where you are keeping the pixies, let me kiss you, and then you’d be under the protection of the federation and myself. We’d leave here and go to my home.”

  “You’re crazy,” I say. “I wouldn’t go with you in a million years. Pixies can’t be trusted.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you believe it anymore.” He smiles. “Let me explain. The five fae races of the Shining Ones all have differences and deviations. Some side with the dark, some with the light. That’s what I meant when I said all pixies are not the same.”

  “You’re saying my dad sides with the dark?” It makes sense. Pixies aren’t just good or bad the same way people aren’t just good or bad. That shouldn’t be so hard to get my head around.