A Beautiful Dark (3 page)

Outside, people were scurrying down the street in both directions. I could feel the tremors diminishing as Cassie and I sprinted through the freezing air to where our cars were parked on the other end of the street. We stopped at her old hunter green Volvo wagon. I couldn’t draw in air. It was like my lungs had locked up.

“Well, for better or for worse, everyone will be talking about your birthday on Monday,” Cassie muttered as she fumbled for her keys.

I tried to stay upright, but my knees were shaking too hard. They buckled under me, and I slid to the ground. I gasped for breath again and again.

“Skye?” Cassie crouched next to me, snow seeping into her tights. “Are you okay?”

She pushed back my hair as I leaned my head against the passenger door and closed my eyes, battling to keep breathing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said, my chest tightening. The street was spinning, even though the rumbling had stopped. “I feel weird. I probably had too much to drink.”

“You can’t drive home like this. You’re shaking.” She took my mittened hands in hers and squeezed.

“Just . . .” I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong with me. I didn’t understand what was going on. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t even fear. It was like total and complete exhaustion. Like I’d pushed myself to the limit and was crashing.

“Come on, get in.” She helped me up and into the passenger seat. Leaning over, she buckled me in. “I’ll drive you home. We’ll get your car in the morning.”

As she climbed in and revved the engine, her radio played the single that had been popular all winter. Cassie began to sing along softly, automatically. She turned the wheel and glided out from the curb, down the street.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands. As the music and Cassie’s voice washed over me, I happened to glance in the side-view mirror. On the street, a lone figure stood in the shadows, getting smaller and smaller as the car pulled away.

Chapter 3

T
he next morning was gray and heavy with the promise of more snow. When I opened my eyes, the weak light filtered into my room through the bay window. As it washed over my pale blue walls, I felt almost like I was outside, just floating in the sky. I buried myself deeper under my cream-colored jersey comforter, letting the soft cotton surround me. I pulled it tight to me like a cocoon, blocking out the world. I had a slamming headache.

I didn’t feel any older on the day after my birthday than I had on the day before it.

I wanted to stay under the covers all morning, but my cell phone rang, forcing me to get out of bed and walk all the way across my room to where it was charging on my dresser.

“Hey, Ian,” I said after I saw who was calling. Shivering in my boxers and T-shirt, I ran to get into bed with the phone. I closed the window on my way back. I didn’t remember leaving it open, and now the room was freezing. I glanced outside before pulling the curtain closed. The sky looked dark, like the storm headed our way was about to blow down some serious power lines.

“Hey,” he said. “How are
you
feeling this morning?”

I laughed. “I’m fine. I got up, answered the phone, and now I’m back in bed.”

“Don’t tempt a guy, Skye; I’m only human. Are you wearing pajamas?”

“Ian!”

“Kidding! Kidding.” Only I had a feeling he wasn’t. He made jokes like that a lot, but he was a good friend and I’d never thought of him as more. “I really did call to see how you’re doing. It was kind of scary there toward the end.”

Absently, I pulled the covers over my head, watching for cracks where the light shone through. “Yeah, you guys really put the ‘surprise’ in surprise party.” I yawned. “I’ve never heard of an earthquake hitting this area before.”

“Is that what you heard?”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t an earthquake. The boiler in the basement exploded.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Wasn’t that thing brand-new?” I remembered last year when Ian was going on and on about how the installation was messing up his whole shift schedule. Ian’s job at the Bean included all kinds of odd fix-it jobs, and he’d been there before school some mornings to help oversee the installation.

“Yup. Apparently it just overheated. It got so hot it even melted in places—that’s what caused the explosion.”

“Whoa,” I said, bringing the blanket down from over my head. The cool air hit my face. “Weird.”

“I know.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that I’ve heard. We were really lucky.”

“Skye?” Aunt Jo knocked on my open bedroom door. “Babe, if I’m gonna drive you into town to get your car, we’d better do it now. It looks like snow; I don’t want it to get stuck.”

I nodded at her. “Ian?” I said into the phone.

“Yeah,” he said. “I heard her. Stop by the Bean if you get a sec when you’re in town. I’m here cleaning up the mess.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“They couldn’t get anyone else to help?”

“Rub it in, please?”

I laughed. “See you in a bit.” I heard the sound of shattered glass being kicked, then Ian sighed into the phone.

“I’ll be here.”

I hung up, but the phone immediately started ringing again. Cassie.

“We’re going to get a blizzard!” she sang. “How are you feeling?”

“Head. Car. Snow. Town,” I moaned.

“Got it. Call me when you get back and are feeling better.”

The line clicked dead.

We drove in silence for most of the way there. I just didn’t feel much like talking. When I’d gotten home the night before, Aunt Jo had been waiting up for me, so Cassie and I had to tell her all about the un-surprise party and what I’d thought was an earthquake. Cassie had explained that I’d been so shaken up that she’d had to drive me home. I didn’t want Aunt Jo to worry, but how could I explain what had really happened to me when even
I
wasn’t sure?

Aunt Jo’s eyes kept shifting nervously from the road to look at me. I had filled her in on what Ian had just told me about the boiler exploding. It was scary to think that the night before could have been a way bigger mess than just a bunch of shattered glass.

I let my head fall against the headrest and watched the trees flash by.

Aunt Jo stopped in front of my black Subaru. I hopped out of the passenger side of her car, my boots crunching loudly in the snow. She got out, too, and came around to the curb. She slapped her left hand uneasily against the side of the SUV, and some grayish blond wisps swung loose from her ponytail. Her cheeks were just shy of burned, the result of last week’s mountaineering trek with Into the Woods Outdoor Company, the outdoor sporting goods and adventure company she owned and managed.

She’d always been happy running the show from behind the scenes, until two weeks ago when her head trip leader, Jenn Spratt, had taken a terrible fall. Her carabiner hadn’t been secured during an ice-climbing trip. Jenn had broken her left leg and dislocated a shoulder. Aunt Jo had her office staff working on finding a temporary replacement, but until then, she was the only one qualified enough to take groups out into the backcountry. Lucky for me, growing up with Aunt Jo had taught me to be pretty self-sufficient. The past couple of weeks, she’d been away for long stretches of time, coming home sunburned, windburned, scratched, and bruised. But all of it just made her look pretty—outdoorsy and alive and younger than she was. It was weird to think that my mother’s best friend was the same age my mom would have been if she were still alive. I couldn’t imagine my mom doing the active and strenuous things Aunt Jo did. I imagined her as fragile, ethereal. Perfect.

“Listen, before I head home, I’m going to pop into the Bean to see Ian,” I told her.

“Don’t stay out too long.” She frowned upward at the heavy clouds. “We’re in for some major weather.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Seriously. See?” I knocked on one of the tires. “Snow tires. It’s all good.”

She looked at me a moment longer. “Okay,” she said, entirely unconvinced. You’d think for someone who spent 99.9 percent of her time trekking through the mountains avoiding bears and rattlesnakes, she’d put more faith in things like snow tires. “Be careful.” She mussed her hand through my dark, wavy hair.

“It’s just a little snow,” I insisted. “We get it, oh, twice a week?”

She gave me a warning look. “I’m serious, Skye.”

“I’ll be fine. What’s with the gloom and doom?”

“Oh, this whole explosion thing just has me shaken up, that’s all. Thank god I was home and not out on a trip. I hate my new schedule; I wish I didn’t have to be away from you for so long. What if you’d been hurt and I wasn’t here?”

I didn’t want to admit that, secretly, I was kind of thinking the same thing. She had enough to worry over with all the extra work she’d taken on after Jenn’s fall. I gave her a reassuring smile. “But I wasn’t hurt
and
you were here.”

“Promise me you’ll be home soon, and I’ll make you dinner tonight or something.”

“A real home-cooked meal—from scratch?” I widened my eyes in mock surprise and batted my eyelashes. Aunt Jo had become the queen of stocking our freezer with frozen dinners. The “healthy” kind that had ingredients like wild brown rice, organic kale, and quinoa—this totally bizarre little grain that Aunt Jo had instructed me was pronounced “keen-wha.” The meals couldn’t possibly be as healthy as the manufacturers claimed. Anything that came in a little plastic dish you had to heat in the microwave couldn’t be that good for you. When Aunt Jo was home, though, she cooked real meals good enough to dream about the whole time she was away. “I want lasagna!”

“Don’t push your luck,” she said dryly. “But if you hurry home, I’ll bake you some cookies.”

“I’m glad to see you’re not above bribery.”

“You can’t be above anything when raising a teenager.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shooing me away. “Love you, too. Say hey to Ian from me.”

I pulled away, watching as she got back into her car and drove off. Something wet stuck to my forehead, and I looked up to find it was already snowing—thick, heavy white flakes.
Perfect.
After the point I’d made about overreacting, Aunt Jo would kill me if I got stuck in the snow. I pulled my hood up to cover my neck and started walking down the street. The sidewalk outside the Bean was charred and black. Standing in front of the empty wooden frames that had once held windows, I stared at the destruction.

Glass had shattered all over the floor along the walls where the picture frames had fallen. Chairs were overturned; couches were torn and bleeding upholstery. The glass in the pastry display case under the cash register had blown out.

Every single sheet of glass in the entire place had been splintered into tiny shards; a fine, prismatic dust covered everything. The afternoon light glinting off the shattered glass was almost blinding. I shielded my eyes.

“Ian?” I called.

I heard a clatter in the back.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

“It’s Skye.” The clattering stopped. Silence.

Ian emerged from the back looking completely harassed. His short sandy hair was sticking up as if he hadn’t even brushed it, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Do you see?” he asked, shrugging and dropping his arms to his sides. “Do you see what I have to do? This may be too big a job for even the Sexy Handyman.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “This is unreal.” I didn’t bother with the door—just stepped through where one of the huge storefront windows had been. I forged a path through the debris to the counter. “Are you okay?”

He picked up the broom leaning against the wall behind him and began to sweep the floor with it. “I’m fine. But are
you
?”

“I’m okay. I’m a little shaken up, but—”

“No,” he pressed. “I mean, are you
okay
?”

I stared at him. “Ian. I’m fine.”

“So you’re, like . . . feeling . . . normal?”

“Like I just said.” Why was everyone suddenly freaking out on me? “It was just a boiler.”

“Yeah, it
was
just a boiler,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. What was going on? “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“So what are you talking about? I promised my aunt I’d be home before next Tuesday, so . . .”

“You really don’t know?”

“Ian,” I said, getting annoyed. “Come on. What is it?”

“Okay.” He put down his broom and came around the side of the counter. He had an excited glint in his eye, and his brow was furrowed with intensity. “Your eyes are gray.”

“Yes,” I said. “Is that your big revelation?”

“Come on, just listen. Last night they were silver.”

My heart skipped a beat. He had noticed?

“They can look that way sometimes,” I said casually. “Trick of the light.”

“Skye,” he said, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Silver. Metallic. Like the stuff that’s inside those old thermometers.”

I shivered as he brought up the exact imagery
I’d
thought of.

“Can you put something over the window?” I said. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I did. I just don’t think it’s that big a deal. My eyes can look silver in certain light. I don’t know why you’re freaking out about it.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen your eyes in all kinds of light. I mean, they’re beautiful.” He paused, his cheeks flushing red. “But that’s not the point.”

“Look, I really appreciate you letting me know.” I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I broke away from his hold and took a few steps backward. “But I’m fine. Do they look silver now?”

Ian’s face fell. “No. . . .”

I shrugged in response.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, looking away. “I guess I sound crazy. It was probably just glass flying or something. It was some insane chaos in here. Forget I said anything, okay?” But his eyes still held that same intensity. I backed away. I had to get out of here.

“I’d offer to stay and help,” I said, “but I have to go finish up some reading before the semester starts. See you tomorrow.”