The Girl and The Raven (3 page)

“Anything.” I shrug and tuck my hair behind my ear. Another group of girls circle a nearby table stacked with jeans. One of them glances my way and frowns. I turn away, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Can’t we just go to Kohl’s?” I plead.

“Nonsense,” Bernard says and grabs the attention of a saleswoman named Carla.

“We need some help,” he explains. “Our niece, Lucy, needs some new clothes.” Bernard smiles and pulls me forward, presenting me to her.

“Some?” Sheldon moves to stand next to Bernard, his caterpillar brows raised as high as they go. “More like a new wardrobe. The whole shebang.”

A whole new wardrobe?
I wait for Bernard to correct him, tell him to stop being crazy, that we’re only here for a couple of things. But Bernard doesn’t correct him. They just stare at the saleslady.

Carla screws up her face tight and studies me. “You look to be about a juniors size two. Am I right?”

I nod, stretching my neck in an attempt to defy my puny size.

Carla and Bernard grab blue jeans, skirts, shorts, and tops, a light jacket, a maroon hoodie with a white embroidered swirl on the back, and pajamas. I trail behind, fingering clothes, plucking at tags dangling from sleeves and gasping at the prices.

“The clothes are too expensive,” I tell Sheldon, feeling sick as I see the mound of clothes growing in Bernard’s arms.

“You think you can stop him? Some advice kiddo, don’t waste your energy trying to argue with your uncle over shopping. That battle is lost before it begins.”

How will I ever repay them? Without thinking, I pull on my ponytail and wind the hair around my fingers.

When we get to the underwear section, Sheldon and Bernard excuse themselves.

“Honey, we need to size you for some bras,” Carla says in a low voice. “I’m going to take you into the dressing room and measure you. Okay?”

“Seriously?” The idea of getting half-naked in front of a stranger freaks me out.

“You don’t want to wind up wearing the wrong size.” She ushers me into a stall and follows me, closing the door.

Carla measures me and heads for the door, pausing to glance at her reflection and fluff her short brown hair. Once she’s gone, I stare into the mirror and grimace. My bra isn’t white anymore and it’s so tight the band cuts into my skin. And it’s not just my bra. My shorts are too small and look like I’m asking for trouble—boy trouble—which I’m not.

A gentle knock on the door makes me jump, but it’s just Carla back for round two.

She hands me four bras, two white and two beige. “Try these on.”

I purse my lips, wishing she’d give me some privacy. Instead, she adjusts the straps, chattering on and on.

“Five bras should be good for a girl your age,” she says once I’m done. “Is there another color you’d like?”

I smile. I’ll figure out a way to make this up to my uncles. For now I might as well enjoy their generosity. “Pink.”

Carla leaves and I stare in the mirror. I run my fingers along the smooth satin of the beige bra. It’s so soft against my skin. I’ve never had a bra that didn’t scratch and pinch. I choke up a little. Momma should’ve taken care of me like this. Why didn’t she care enough?

Carla returns with a pink bra and all the clothes she and Bernard picked out. She leaves me alone to try everything on. I guess she trusts I can dress myself. I model every outfit for my uncles, feeling pretty fancy. So far the purple sweatshirt is my favorite. Juicy Couture was the cool brand among the girls at my old high school. Now I had my very own Juicy sweatshirt. If the price isn’t too high, I’m hoping to get some Juicy underwear, too.

I’m trying on the last outfit when I hear Bernard and Sheldon having a muttered conversation just outside the dressing room area.

My ears catch the words “raven” and “missing”. Lola’s missing? I thought for sure Gram’s beloved bird would become mine once I moved here. I was crushed to learn Sheldon and Bernard gave her to Persephone, Gram’s best friend who lives in the third floor apartment. Sure, Persephone has a raven and the two birds are close, but still…

“What?” I hurry from the dressing room, trying to keep my cool. “What happened to Lola?”

Sheldon says something to Bernard, too quiet for me to hear and pats his arm. Bernard nods and, avoiding my stare, he gathers my clothes and follows Carla to the cash register.

“You told me you gave Lola to Persephone. Now she’s missing?”

Sheldon exhales, his expression troubled. “We don’t know what happened.”

* * * *

Once home, I unpack my new clothes, running my fingers over the soft fabric of the tops, skirts and pajamas. I hang each outfit in the closet. I vow to wash my hands before I touch them and to be extra careful every time I eat and drink while wearing them. I thank my uncles for the gazillionth time and then race upstairs to Persephone’s.

As I reach the second floor landing, Marcus emerges from his apartment. We both freeze. He’s changed clothes and the dark gray button down shirt makes his eyes smolder. His damp hair curls slightly around his ears. The small space fills with the incredible scent coming off his skin, a mix of mint and musk and a bunch of other things I can’t identify.

My heart races. “I’m, uh, just going to see Persephone,” I offer, wanting him to know I’m not stalking him. “Do…do you know if she’s home?”

“Not sure.” He shrugs. “I ran into her earlier, though. She wants to talk to you, too.”

“Really?” My heart swells. “She found Lola?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” My excitement plummets. “Well, I should go see if she’s home.” I reluctantly move around him.

“Hey, Lucy.” His voice stops me. “If you want to talk later, I’ll be around.”

I wait for him to say more, but…nothing. A cold, heavy feeling settles in my stomach. Now I really need to see Persephone. I have to make sure nothing has happened to Lola.

“Okay.” I whisper and turn away. I clear my throat as I walk down the hall, around the corner and up the stairs to the third floor, my legs turning to lead. I knock on Persephone’s door, my stomach clenched. I’m not going to cry when Persephone gives me the bad news. I am strong. I can take it. Whatever “it” might be. No…I can’t. I turn to go, but Persephone flings the door open.

“Lucy!” Persephone hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw her, when she came to Lexington to get Momma into a drug program. She towers over me, her hair a mass of untamable, black curls. She wears a blue floral dress, which I suspect was a set of curtains in a past life. “Come here.”

I step forward and her big arms wrap around me. Persephone has never been one for physical affection. The news must be really bad. I hug her back, closing my eyes as I prepare myself to hear that Lola is dead, too.

She pulls away. “We have a lot to talk about.”

I follow her into the living room and we sit on the green and yellow couch. Walking into Persephone’s apartment is what I imagine being dropped out of a plane into the middle of the jungle would be like. The walls are covered with wallpaper featuring exotic flowers and ivy. Plants cover every surface and hang from the ceiling. I half expect to hear the screech of a Spider Monkey. I realize Persephone’s green thumb is the reason for Gram’s thriving flower gardens.

“It’s finally happened,” she says. “You’re living under Vera’s roof, where you belong.”

My entire body grows rigid, the familiar anger filling my insides. I
do
belong here. Always have. Problem is…I’m the only one who felt that way. “Where’s Lola?”

“We’ll come back to that.” Persephone rests her beefy arms on her thighs, clasping her hands tightly.

“I don’t want to come back to it.” Persephone’s one of those people who likes to take charge and boss people around. Not this time. “Just tell me. Is she dead?”

Her expression softens. “Lucy, honey…” She turns from me for several beats and clears her throat before turning back to me. Tears linger, though she tries to blink them away. “Lola’s not dead. She’s just…missing. She’ll come back. She always does.”

My anger flares. If only Gram would’ve given Lola to me. I would’ve kept her safe. “She’s taken off before? What about Serenity?” Persephone’s raven is a year younger than Gram’s and they’ve both been trained to stay nearby even when you let them outside. My throat burns. I jump up off the rain forest couch, fisting my hands to keep from doing something unforgivable. “How could you let her out if you knew she would take off? Gram trusted you to take care of her.”

Persephone holds up her hands like she’s trying to push back my anger. “If I give you proof that she’s alive, will you calm down?”

“I don’t understand. What proof can you give me if she’s gone?”

“Come sit down and relax your mind for me, okay?”

I cross my arms and make a face as I sit back down. She knows I think this is totally stupid. I don’t want to participate in mumbo-jumbo new age imagery crap. Right now I want answers about Lola. She just stares at me in that way she has that reminds me of Gram when she got stubborn about something.

I heave a sigh. “Fine.” I roll my shoulders back and tilt my head from side to side. I blow out my breath and shake out my hands and my feet in little tapping steps on the Nile river carpet like a runner getting ready to race. Finally, I take a last deep breath and still everything. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Persephone purses her lips together as if to suppress a smile. Maybe I overdid it. “Scoot closer,” she instructs. I do. She leans toward me and places her fingers on my temples. “Close your eyes.”

The pressure of her fingers is quickly forgotten as she whispers a rush of words. I peek at her. Her eyes are scrunched tight, her lips moving as words come out in a long, tangled stream of s’s and other consonants that I can’t understand. I roll my eyes before squeezing them tight again.

Suddenly I hear it. The flutter of wings. I gasp. My eyes fly open. Persephone’s expression is pinched. I guess she’s concentrating. I quickly close my eyes. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, but I try harder to clear my mind. Then I hear it. A rhythmic thumping. I pull it to the front of my mind.

The flutter of wings is so close, as if Lola is perched on my shoulder, inches from my ear, about to tickle me with her feathers before taking off in flight. Suddenly I’m bursting with questions.

My eyes pop open and in my excitement I break the connection to Persephone who frowns. “What is that?”

“Lola’s heartbeat. It’s weaker than last time.”

“I don’t understand. You know where she is?” I try not to fixate on the part about the weak heartbeat. “How did you do that? Pick up on her heartbeat and the flutter of her wings? And what were you saying?” My words run together as I try to get them all out at once. “It was a little creepy, like the time I went to a Pentecostal church outside of Lexington and people were speaking in tongues.” I cock my head. “Were you speaking in tongues?”

Persephone smooths her hands across her lap, her expression solemn. “No, just speaking quickly.” She takes hold of my hand. “I have something very important to discuss with you. Your Gram…she should’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Told me what?” I don’t like the strange vibe I’m getting. Persephone looks sad and droopy and
old
all of a sudden. Is this where I learn Lola’s dead and that this is all some kind of trick? Or maybe none of this was about Lola after all. Maybe she’s going to tell me why Gram never brought me here. Why I was stuck in that sucky trailer with Momma, broke and afraid and fighting all the time. Maybe Momma was right and Gram didn’t want me. Or is Persephone dying too? Am I destined to lose everyone I love? I swallow the burning lump in my throat.

“What is it?” I squeak out.

“It’s time you know.” She leans in, her eyes meeting mine. “Your grandmother was a witch.”

Momma told me once that our family is cursed. When I asked what she meant, she got real quiet. Lighting a cigarette, she took a drag, then exhaled long and slow.

“You’ll understand eventually,” she said, and went back to watching TV.

That was a year and a half ago. Is this what she meant? Gram being a witch?

I chuckle uneasily. “What?”

Persephone displays her trademark frown. Deep lines, brows drawn together severely, lips pressed thin. She doesn’t have laugh lines because she rarely laughs. “This is no joking matter, Lucy.”

“You’re telling me Gram was a witch.” The smirk appears on my face before I can stop it. “That’s pretty unbelievable.”

She glares at me, a sigh escaping between clenched teeth.

“You can’t be serious.” My voice raises several octaves. I fight it—hard—but my lips curl at the corners and I’m struck with a mad case of the giggles. “I’m sorry…I can’t help it! I have visions of Gram riding on a broomstick, wearing a big black hat.”

She mutters under her breath and fusses with the fabric of her curtains-in-a-former-life dress. “Do you have another explanation for what just happened?”

The flutter of wings, the gentle flapping sounded so real…and the heartbeat.
It’s weaker than last time.