These Lying Eyes (12 page)

Dad blinked slowly. She thought he was going to let her have it now, but then she caught sight of how he was gripping Mom’s fingers.

“It’s supposed to help you,” Dad leaned forward, reaching out, and taking hold of Mina’s hand.

She looked down on his hand, just touching hers, and suddenly understood that sending her to the shrink was his way of “making her better.” It was him Dadding her—taking care of the problem.

It was so awkwardly him. Fix her up. Help her to be happy. Whatever she needed, but always without asking what she wanted.

“But it doesn’t. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. I don’t like Doctor Seal. She makes me feel like a bug she’s about to dissect.”

Dad licked his lips.

Mina licked hers.

There was a blanket of emotion in the air between them, thick and suffocating.

“I thought it would help you feel better. Psychiatrists…” He stopped, struggling for words, and no longer her foe.

“Can’t we try without Dr. Seal? Can’t you give me a chance?” Mina heard the pleading in her voice. They all did. And it was rife with emotion.

Dad squeezed her fingers. “Would you feel better with another Doctor?”

Mina shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

Mina nodded.

“Ok.” Dad said, still tense. But, he rose, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and left the table. Just before leaving the room he added, “If you change your mind…”

Mina nodded, and he was gone.

She looked at her mom. Still so quiet; silently directing everything that had just happened.

“Your Dad loves you.”

“I know,” Mina said softly.

“You skipped school today.” Mom said.

Mina waited.

“Don’t do it again for a while.” Mom rose and left the kitchen as well.

Mina looked at her silent sister, who had not just heard—she’d understood, and Mina helped her sister clean the kitchen even though it was Sarah’s turn.

They were quiet in the work until Sarah finally said, “It’s time to stop walking on tiptoe.”

“What?” Mina dried a frying pan.

“Ever since…what happened, you’ve been all careful.” Sarah set a now clean salad bowl on the dish rack.

Mina put the pan away and began drying the wooden bowl.

“Just stop.” Sarah pulled the plug on the sink and wiped the water splashes up. “You have to go back to being yourself, so they can let it go.”

“What are you saying?”

“Sneak out again. Skip your smoothies for apple pie shakes. Sleep late and tease the triplets.”

Mina stared at her sister.

“As long as you act hurt, they’ll treat you like you’re broken. As soon as you start acting like yourself, they’ll quit haunting you.”

“How do you know I sneak out?”

“Everyone does.” Sarah said. “Mom and Dad just think that you’re at the old lookout in the woods or walking that path down by the creek.”

“And why would they think that?” Mina wound her bi-colored mop of curls into a messy bun.

“Because I told them you were.”

Mina just looked at Sarah, calmly sweeping the floor, hair neat as a pin, clothes perfectly pressed. She seemed to be the ideal child, manipulating them with her puppet master ways.

“So, sneak out?” Mina said.

Sarah nodded, pushing her white-blond hair behind her ears, brows raised as if it were obvious. “Buy extra stuff with that VISA card, but not too much. Skip classes. Ignore dinner. Do your normal stuff.”

“Are you sure?” But Mina didn’t wait for an answer. It was as if Sarah had opened the door to a cage Mina hadn’t realized she was in. She almost ran up the stairs, gathering the sprites, her bag, and the Vespa keys and was over the side of the patio, down the trellis and off her parent’s property before anyone could call her back.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Zizi asked.

“I don’t know.” Mina drove the Vespa through the wet streets as if she was being chased.

“What happened?”

And Mina told them.

“I alwayz liked Sarah best.” Poppy was inside of Mina’s jacket, only her head and torso hanging out above the zipper.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” It was Hitch who said it, but he was right. Mina didn’t want to wait anymore either. She wanted to figure out what was happening with her. And she was going to start today.

“Your Grandma haz been at the cabin for a few dayz,” Hitch added, a bit of a dare in his voice. “I heard your mom say she was going to take the triplets up tomorrow and let them play by the lake.”

“So the beach house is empty.” Zizi added as if Mina needed further explanation.

She didn’t. In minutes, they’d driven the scooter to the little gray, beach front house. Mina hid the scooter on the side of the house, and they let themselves in using the hide-a-key.

They looked around. It had been a long time since Mina had been here, but the straight-backed couches were placed precisely in the center of each wall. There was a throw rug in the direct center of the room. A few books were lined on the bookshelves, spines to the edge, sorted by size.

Grandma had neat down perfectly. There were no drawers of papers, shoeboxes full of memories, or cabinets full of knick-knacks. It took the four of them only about an hour to search the entire house from top to bottom.

“Think she’ll notize?” Hitch asked as they were checking for any sign they’d been there.

“She’ll never know it was us.” Mina said, but she checked and rechecked each room. She didn’t want her grandma, mean though Grandma was, to be afraid if she noticed her house had been rifled.

“What next?” Poppy asked, as they stared at the still perfectly neat house that had given up no secrets.

Zizi pointed. Across the room was a small chest. It was under the window facing the ocean. And each of them had walked or flown past it time and again, and yet as Mina stared, she realized she’d never noticed it before. A chill spread between them.

“Weird.” Poppy darted across the room to drop to the carpet before the small chest. It was only a foot wide by, perhaps, a foot and a half.

Poppy flipped the latches and lifted the lid while Mina, Zizi, and Hitch joined her in front of the small wood box. As it opened, Mina held her breath.

There was a small silver tray at the top. Mina lifted it onto her knees and opened a yellowed cloth to find an old knife. The handle was etched with swirls. It had a large, wicked blade. Black with age. Several candles rolled around the tray, a small cup.

“This knife is like the one the girl had in those fae books Grace lent me.” Mina set the tray aside to find several candles, chalk, and another cloth with small stones.

“Just like the book,” Hitch said.

“The book that
Grace
gave you,” Zizi said, emphasizing the librarian’s name.

Mina replaced everything in the chest that she’d never seen before, and she left the house as silently as she’d come.

* * *

The library had long since closed, but there was a light on in the library as Mina passed it. She turned around, stopping at the intersection. Already, Mina knew it was Grace’s desk lamp; Mina knew she’d find Grace’s SUV behind the old stone church turned library. She knew that if she continued to sit below the library, she’d feel the weight of the gargoyles eyes; and that if she went inside, she might find something out about herself.

Mina sat on the scooter, sick to her stomach. She let herself be caught up by the steady glow until a horn tapped behind her. With a deep, held breath, Mina parked in front of the library and tapped on the stained glass window in the door.

And in moments, Grace’s familiar face appeared, distorted, behind the glass.

“What are you going to do,” Poppy asked, and a world of meaning was held in those words. Was she going to just ask Grace if she was a witch?
Can you see the sprites, Grace? Did you give me those books, so I’d put the pieces together? Are you a witch? A fae?

What am I?

Either way, she’d soon know whether she was right, and Grace was like Mina. Or she was wrong, and maybe crazier than she’d thought.

* * *

Anxiety rode Mina; her throat was dry, and the beating of her heart was loud in her ears.

Grace sat on her side of the desk, in a pool of light surrounded by shadows. Her hair was in its usual chignon, and like normal, a few pieces had escaped to curl under her chin.

She said nothing, expressionless, waiting as Mina floundered.

What was she supposed to say? Grace, I think I’m a witch, and you are too? Grace, I think you gave me all those books to make me believe in something that’s absolutely nuts, and now I’m hoping I’m not out of my mind because I believe in them.

“Is everything all right?” Grace finally asked. They’d been staring at each other for several minutes.

Mina swallowed, pressed her lips together, and nodded without making a sound.

Grace waited.

“You can do it Mina,” Hitch said and Grace’s head turned the smallest amount. It would have been unnoticeable if Mina hadn’t been watching Grace so steadily, and that small movement gave Mina the courage she needed.

It was Grace. And their friendship, Mina reminded herself, was real. Mina took a deep breath and a flood of words filled the air, almost at super speed, “Someone told me something when I was in the hospital. He said that sometimes people are waiting for you to turn to them. That maybe they need you to reach out to them.”

Grace set her hands on the desk in front of her, lacing her fingers, leaning forward—but she was wordless.

Mina waited.

Grace said nothing for a few moments before finally asking, “Did you need help with something?”

Mina nodded, waiting again, afraid.

“You can trust Grace,” Zizi said softly, the buzz in her voice noticeable for once.

Mina licked her lips and then words surged from her, “You can tell me I’m not crazy because I think I’m a witch or a fae or whatever. You can tell me that my friends, these sprites, are real, and you see them too. You can help me figure out what to do next.”

Chapter 10

Mina lay back on her bed. It was a canopy bed, strung with Christmas lights and apple garland. As she stared into the lights, she thought about this day.

For so long she’d been lost.

And now…

Now, she knew that Peter knew.

Now, she knew that Grandmother knew—with all her paraphernalia in the chest that hid in plain sight.

And Grace. Grace had explained it all.

Mina sat up, leaning forward and running her hands down her pajama pants, stretching to her toes, and looking up to see her three steadiest friends. They sat, side by side, on the end board of Mina’s bed watching her.

“So, we’re real,” Hitch said.

Mina nodded.

“People other than you can see us.” Hitch’s wings sped, filling the room with a low buzz.

Mina nodded.

“And you…” He trailed off, daring her to say it.

To make it real.

After all, the last couple of hours with Grace had been—almost—unbelievable.

Mina licked her lips before speaking.

Licked them again and swallowed.

And then she said clearly, “I’m a witch.”

* * *

Mina sat outside the high school. Her legs were crossed on the bench, and she leaned over one of the witch books Grace had provided. Lessons would start in ten days when Grace got back from a conference. Until then…Mina had a pile of books to explore.

Magic was like science. She’d learn basic principles from Grace and basic skills, and then Mina could decide what or if she wanted to learn more. She expected she’d want to learn a lot more.

She wanted to be able to talk to trees and plants or animals. Some witches could fly by manipulating air currents. Others could light things on fire with the force of their eyes. Others could brew potions that could do unimaginable things. They could learn languages in days. They could sense the emotions of others. Bespell normal objects to make high heels comfortable or bags carry endless things. Witches could turn a cottage into a mansion with unexpected turns, pools, conservatories, and towers that the non-magical would never notice. Witches could make themselves invisible. They could make gardens bloom in the depths of winter. And some, some could do all of those things and more.

She flipped another page, running her fingers over the image that seemed to have been burned into the page. It was a girl not much older than Mina, holding a bird on her finger. As Mina watched, color spread over the page. The leaves on the bush moved; the rose and the girl’s cheeks took on a pale rose color. The girl cocked her head and whistled to the bird. And as she did, the bird whistled back. The text below the image read simply, “Witches and the fae can learn the languages of animals.”

Mina curled over the book, watching a bunny creep out from behind a hedge in the background of the picture. As it did, the bird and the girl turned their heads, and the conversation expanded to include the rabbit.

“Hey,” a low husky voice said, and Mina jumped.

Max.

Mina licked her lips, letting the book close before he could catch a glimpse and said softly, “Hey.”

“You left early yesterday.”

Mina nodded.

“I hoped we could talk.” The bell rang, and he tossed at the school an angry scowl.

Mina uncrossed her legs, rubbed her burning eyes—she’d been up all night—and started walking towards the school. As she did, she said, “Yesterday was…”

But how could she explain?

“It’s weird,” Max said. “To not be friends like we were.”

Mina paused, for just a moment, before continuing towards their English class.

“I’m sorry.” Max walked next to her, watching her.

She watched him back, out of the corner of her eye, and reminded herself that none of this was his fault.

“Me too,” she said as he opened the door to the classroom.