Including the version I knew to be true.
While my more logical mind should’ve easily reminded me that the embarrassing scene I’d relived was just a single brief episode that only occurred that one time, a single brief episode that certainly didn’t mark me as an outcast forever—while it should’ve reminded me how I’d managed to rise above it soon after, to the point where just a few days later, two of my classmates, Sara and Emma, each took a pair of scissors to their own hair in an attempt to mimic my look (much to their parents’ horror)—my logical mind didn’t seem to be working that day.
My logical mind was taking a little vacay of its own, leaving me alone, defenseless, swarmed by those long-buried feelings of embarrassment, confusion, and deep seething anger. And as I made my way out of that graveyard, I couldn’t help but gaze all about, couldn’t help but wish there was some kind of place in which to deposit those feelings—a sort of emotional dumping ground, if you will—so that I could leave them behind and spare myself the burden of having to lug them around.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by the sight of Bodhi pushing his way through the fog that continued to hover and pulse its way around the perimeter. Approaching me with a glaring gaze that served as a perfect match for his steely tone when he said, “Okay, Riley. Now that you’ve had your fun, now that you’ve enjoyed your little act of rebellion, I’m ordering you to come with me.” He leaned forward, peering at me in a way that made it seem as though his face and voice were in a heated competition to see which could come off as the sternest.
I glanced between Buttercup and him, wincing at the way my dog, feeding off Bodhi’s energy, gazed at me with a look that could only be read as pity.
“Because in case you’ve forgotten, this was supposed to be a vacation. A nice little time-out so we could both relax, have some fun, and, yeah, maybe even get to know each other a little better so that I’ll be able to guide you more effectively in the future. But the only thing I’ve learned so far is that you are even more stubborn than I first thought. I mean, when I tell you to—”
I stopped him right there, flashed a palm in surrender and said, “Okay, okay,” as I quickly moved past him. More than a little eager to get out of that dark and creepy graveyard and back into the fog—desperate to leave it all behind, both literally and figuratively, and get on with the rest of the day. “I’m ready to hit it, ready to check out the town now. I’m no longer interested in that psycho dog. Seriously,” I added, still moving forward, mistaking his silence for skepticism, and wanting to convince him that my sudden change of heart was for real. Knowing all too well that the price for not convincing him would be a never-ending string of questions I had no intention of answering.
For more reasons than one, I wasn’t about to reveal what I’d been through—or at least not quite so soon anyway. Not while I was still trying to make sense of it in my own head.
“You were right.” I nodded, a little too vigorously, probably overdoing it, overstating it, but it’s not like that stopped me. I’d made a mistake—a terrible, impulsive mistake. I’d misjudged my abilities and, even worse, I’d misjudged the seriousness of upsetting the Council. It was like a moment of temporary insanity, but I was over it. Completely over it. From this point on, I was determined to listen and do as I was told. I’d already put it behind me. I hoped Bodhi would too. “So what do you say we walk or fly our way out of here? Either way, it’s up to you. It’s all good as far as I’m concerned.”
I stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped walking. Just stood there with my back turned toward him, reluctant to glance behind me and see where I’d been. But when my words were met by nothing more than a long, lingering silence, I whirled around to face him. Ready to say or do whatever it took to get out of that place, only to realize he hadn’t heard a single thing I’d said.
Bodhi was preoccupied.
Paying me no attention whatsoever.
In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. He’d gotten all turned around and was headed off in an entirely different direction.
Moving away from me in order to race toward a really pretty dark-haired girl, with the traitorous Buttercup keeping sharp at his heels.
And though I called out Bodhi’s name, over and over again, it bore no effect. Either he couldn’t hear me, or he didn’t want to hear me. All of his attention was claimed by the slim, petite figure crisscrossing through the snarl of trees.
All of his attention claimed by the swiftly moving girl whose long dark hair lifted and bounced and whirled all around her like a shiny black cape.
The girl whose lovely dark eyes glinted and flashed, whose gleaming smooth cheeks brightened and flushed, whose entire face lit up
in a blend of joy and love and delighted expectation as she turned and smiled and beckoned him closer with a curl of her fingers.
He called out to her, the words soft, breezy, just barely a whisper, but there was no mistaking it. No mistaking the tone, no mistaking the allusion of longing, of yearning, when Bodhi haltingly cried, “Nicole—please—don’t go. Wait for me!”
His feet moving quickly, racing past clumps of dead grass, pressing through clusters of graves. Gaining on her, getting closer still, until she stopped beside a particularly gnarled old tree and shifted her gaze from Bodhi to me.
And that’s when I saw it.
Saw what lay behind the petite and pretty facade.
Though I was the only one who saw it.
The reveal was meant solely for me.
Bodhi continued to see what he’d always seen, which was something else entirely.
And before I could call out to him, before I could catch up or warn him in some way, he was gone. Leaving me with no choice but to just stand there and watch as she lifted one delicate finger, and smiled as she tapped Bodhi’s shoulder.
Only once.
Light and quick.
But that’s all it took for the barrier to slam down all around him.
Slam down around—everything.