Veiled (Ada Palomino 1)

Needless to say I’m exhausted, my brain is full of fog, and I’ve barely spoken two words all morning. But Perry knows, as she always does, that I’m even worse today than yesterday. So they’re staying and I’m not protesting one bit. Even though Perry and Dex are known for attracting trouble, there’s no one else I feel safer around. Dex has Perry’s back and he has mine too.

But in my dream, so does someone else.

I’m the one who has your back. And I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time.

Jay.

It was so incredibly real, incredibly vivid and arguably the most fucked up dream I’ve ever had. It just felt . . . like I wasn’t in control of it. Like it was being projected into my head. And the more I think about it, about my mother and the Thin Veil and Jay, the more my head spins.

I’m mulling that over as I grab my purse and head out the door with Dex and Perry, the stark sunshine feeling incredibly good on my skin while bird song erupts from the trees. I close my eyes briefly as Dex unlocks the doors to his black Highlander and try to let it the summer light wash away the darkness.

“Hmmph,” Dex says and I open my eyes to see him staring over at the Knightlys’, his brow furrowed as he sticks a cigarette in his mouth.

I look behind me, a chill coming over me. “What?”

The boxes are gone, there’s no car in driveway nor the ‘70s Mercedes that the Jacob man drove. It looks quiet.

“Nothing,” Dex says, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. He blinks, seeming to relax before my eyes and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Anyway I was hoping maybe I’d see Sage Knightly.”

“I’m sure you can harass the new neighbors tonight,” Perry says as she walks around the hood. “And you’re not smoking that in the car.”

He gives her a salute. “Yes ma’am.” He promptly puts out the cigarette on the back of his lighter and shoves it back in the pack before getting in the driver’s seat, sighing despondently.

During the drive to downtown, Dex has Soundgarden blaring and Perry keeps eying me in the rear-view mirror.

I’m fine! I yell inside my head, using the “inside voice” Jay told me to. I’m not sure if she can hear me or not because her expression doesn’t change. She’s studying me as if not quite sure who I am.

“What?” I finally ask her out loud, my voice sharp.

She looks away and now Dex is peering at me in the mirror.

“You all right back there?” he asks. “Overdosing on teenage angst?”

I flip him the bird and look out the window.

Portland’s Saturday market has always been one of the best parts of summer in the city, and I’ve only made it out once this year. It stretches from the McCall Waterfront Park into the downtown area, and has grown a lot over the years. Portland’s famous food trucks are all over the place, there’s live music, and vendors selling everything from hand-tooled leather bags to vintage furniture. There’s a water park that you need on a humid day like today, and street performers everywhere.

After we find parking blocks away, we’re sucked in by the crowd and for a moment it feels like my problems are disappearing. In fact, it makes me feel like I never had any problems at all. Maybe it’s the epic collection of people, the weather, or the good vibes, but I feel a twinge of excitement run through me. In three weeks I’ll be starting school, and even with all the changes going on in my life, that’s one change that brings promise.

Maybe I can start again.

“So you know how to smile after all,” Dex muses. He’s got a phallic-looking corn dog in his hand and waves it at me. I didn’t even realize I was smiling.

We’re standing outside a vendor tent while Perry is trying on clothes inside. Ironically I’m of no help to her. I can’t stand shopping with other people and am apt to tell them everything looks fine just to get it over with.

I pretend to knee him in the groin and he waves the corn dog like a fencing sword to fend me off until it goes flying onto the grass. His face falls dramatically.

“Son of a fuck,” he says, tossing the empty stick in the nearby trash and taking out a cigarette. While he lights it he glances at me. “Anyway, smiling is a good thing. You seemed a little rough this morning.”

“Well I had a rough night,” I tell him, suddenly occupied with picking strands of my hair off my black linen dress.

He exhales, the smoke wafting away. Silence strums between us for a beat. “You know, Ada,” he says in a careful voice, “I hope you know that what you’re going through is perfectly normal.”