Authors: Margo Kelly
I snatched my robe from the hook on the closet door and pulled it on, over all my layers. I wrapped it tightly around my waist and knotted the tie around my rib cage. Better. I tugged on a pair of athletic socks and tucked the hems of my yoga pants into the socks. No ants could crawl inside. I relaxed long enough to notice the fresh odor of burned sage.
“How long was I in the bathroom before you pounded on the door?” I asked.
He waited in the doorway, his gray shirt soaking wet. “Long enough for me to clean your room and smudge the entire house.”
I grabbed a clean T-shirt from my closet and held it out to him. He tugged his shirt up and over his head, revealing his long, lean muscles. His arms were tan, but his chest was white, with black hair circling each of his nipples. He took the oversized black Princeton T-shirt from me and pulled it on. It fit him fine.
I perched on the edge of my bed and took a deep breath. “Why do you always wear gray shirts?”
“Because life is gray.”
“That's depressing,” I said.
“No. It represents the fact that there is truly no black and white in the world, onlyâ”
“But you're an artist. You should want more color in your life.”
He smiled and plucked the black T-shirt with bright orange lettering. “With you in my life, I definitely have more color. You've changed me forever.”
Plug dropped his wet gray shirt into the trashcan by my desk. He lifted my pearl-handled brush and asked, “May I?” I was unsure what he meant until he pointed at my hair.
I began to bawl.
He sat next to me without touching me. “We'll figure this out. I'll do more research about demons and possession, but I think you had a breakthrough tonight.”
“A breakdown, you mean.” I wiped my eyes and huffed.
“You survived. You controlled your thoughts.”
“Only with your help.” I used to love the solitude of a long shower. Now the idea made my gut wrench. At least Plug had been there.
“It's a start,” Plug said, “and I think the smudging will work this time.” He waggled the brush.
“Only my hair. Do not touch anything else. Not my shoulder. Not my hand. Not my face.” I couldn't believe he wanted to brush my hair. Plug: the guy with multiple piercings, a tattooist for a father, and a passion for the occult. He tenderly brushed the knots from my hair, and I tried to imagine Plug without the piercings. An image came to mind of when we were in the sixth grade. During PE, a boy had stolen my jump rope, and Plug, Eugene back then, kicked him in the shin and returned the rope to me.
“Back in sixth grade,” I said, “do you remember the jump rope? When you kicked that boy?”
“Yes.” Plug continued pulling the bristles in a rhythmic motion. “I was suspended for three days.”
I stared at Plug.
“Really,” he said. “The PE teacher told my dad I attacked that kid. So my dad enrolled me in martial arts to teach me self-restraint.” Plug continued with the brush.
“What else should I know about you?” I asked.
He shrugged and continued brushing my hair. Hopefully, Plug was right. If I practiced my own self-restraint, by changing my thoughts, tonight could be a turning point. Surely things would get better from here.
“All done.” He rose and set my brush on my desk next to the laptop.
I pointed at the computer. “Did you see if it recorded anything?”
Plug twisted a ring on his finger. “After everything that's happened tonight, let's forget about the computer for now. We'll check it tomorrow.” He walked toward the door. “Let's go downstairs and watch television until your mom gets home.”
I was too exhausted to argue. I followed him out of my room.
Once in the family room, he picked up the remote and plopped into a side chair. The guy who was so eager to touch me before kept his distance now.
“Thanks,” I said and curled up on the far end of the couch, but then I reconsidered. If I wanted things to improve, I had to do something about it. Make my own choices rather than react to everything and everyone around me. I moved to the end of the couch closest to Plug and extended my hand to him. He raised his eyebrows.
“I'm sure,” I said.
He reached out and held my hand. No tingles. No hallucinations. No panic. Just comfort.
Plug flipped through channels on the television. He settled on
Ultimate Cage Fighting
.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Hey, we're fighting the unknown here. We need all the inspiration we can get.”
“Right.” A grin crept across my face, and Plug smiled back at me. I focused on the skills of the fighters and limited my thoughts. It was tiring, and I fell asleep.
I sat on the front steps and waited for Plug to pick me up for school. The brilliant sunshine and fresh morning air reinforced my sensation that things were about to improve. Plug parked at the curb and hopped out to open my door for me.
He wore a V-neck T-shirt as blue as the sky. And I smiled. I brushed past him to take my seat. He smelled like fabric softener, clean and crisp.
“Better today?” he asked.
“Much,” I said. “Last night's smudging must have worked, because I feel better than ever.” He ran around to the driver's side and slid into his seat.
“You cold?” He motioned toward my outfit.
“No.” I plucked at the sweatshirt. “Do I look stupid?”
“If that's what you want to wear, don't worryâ”
“I care what you think,” I said.
“I'm used to seeing you in fewer clothes.”
Images of last night popped into my head, and my chest lit on fire.
He held up his hands. “Wait! I meant you normally wear flip-flops, shorts, and a shirt. Today, you're wearing boots, big jeans, and a sweatshirt.” He fidgeted with his lip ring.
What he didn't know: Beneath my jeans, I still had my yoga pants tucked into my athletic socks, and under the bulky sweatshirt, I still wore my bra on the outside of my pink shirt.
I was lying to myself about being better than ever.
He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “I'm sorry.”
“We had some success last night,” I said, “and that makes me think things can return to normal, but I'm not there yet. I still need a barrier. I don't want anyone to touch me, and more layers equal more protection.”
“What about me?” Plug peeked in my direction. “Should I keep my hands off you?”
“Probably,” I said, but even now, as Plug sat back and licked his lips, desire for him churned in my stomach. I longed for his lips to press against mine. A tinge of guilt pricked my heart, and I recalled the tenderness in Manny's eyes, his fingers at the back of my neck, and the shivers along my spine when he first kissed me on the Ferris wheel. I had feelings for them both.
“Hannah?” Plug said.
I halfheartedly smiled. “Just keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Promise.” He waggled his fingers in the air and then slipped them beneath mine. “Are you ready to talk about what happened in the bathroom last night?”
If I told him, maybe it would minimize the fear lurking in the back of my mind. I squeezed his hand. “My eyes changed color in the mirror. Then something like a demon appeared behind me, but it disappeared when I turned to face it.”
“You tried to face it,” Plug said. “That's huge.” His reassurance comforted me.
“But I lost time. I don't remember undressing. Then when you knocked, I opened my eyes, and there was a guy behind me.” My breathing sped up, and my armpits grew wet with sweat. “He groped me with his big, hairy hands.”
“He can't hurt you here,” Plug said. “You're okay now.”
“His facial features were in shadows. I only saw his hands and felt his body against mine.” I glanced at Plug's long fingers. “Did you see him when you came into the bathroom? Or was it another one of my delusions?”
“I only saw you, but a demon could've manifested as a man and been only visible to you,” Plug said. “Did anything else happen after I left?”
“I have no idea when you left. I slept hard on the couch until my mom woke me this morning when she left for work.”
“Your mom got home around midnight. She was surprised to see me, but I told her we'd fallen asleep watching a movie. I doubt she bought it. I apologized and left. But when I was there, nothing else weird happened.”
“Maybe the evil spirit used up his energy reserves attacking me physically.”
“You researched that?” Plug asked.
“No.” I laughed. “The extent of my knowledge comes from horror movies, which, by the way, I will never watch again.”
Plug smiled and rubbed his callused thumb across the back of my hand. “So everything was fine in the bathroom this morning?”
“Well, I couldn't bring myself to open the door.”
“That's okay,” Plug said. “Policing your thoughts and practicing the guided imagery will help you overcome all of this.”
I pointed at the time on the dashboard clock. “We're late,” I said. Peregrine was a five-minute drive away, and the first bell was about to ring.
Plug twisted the key in the ignition, and we rode in comfortable silence.
We turned into the parking lot, and my phone chimed. Plug pulled into the spot next to Kyla's Mini Cooper, where Nick and Kyla still sat inside. I checked my phone before I got out of the El Camino.
A text from Manny read: Where RU?
I messaged back: At school. Why?
I slipped the phone into my pocket and stepped out to join the other three at the front of the vehicle. Plug held out a huge, wrapped present to me.
“Happy birthday!” they chimed.
“It's not my birthday,” I said.
“Today, it is,” Kyla said. In the bright sunlight, her violet hair complemented her marigold blouse.
“Can't believe you found one,” Plug said to Kyla.
“It was a challenge with such short notice.” She patted the gift. “Open it, Hannah. It's from all of us.”
I set my backpack on the ground, and my phone chimed in my pocket. I ignored it and focused on the surprise. I tore off the wrapping paper, and my breath caught. I drew my fingertips across the pristine cover of the art history book, still wrapped in cellophane, untarnished by anyone's hands.
“We're a team,” Plug said. “We'll help you through this.” He pulled me into a hug. I tensed at the full contact, but I closed my eyes and reminded myself I was all right. I relaxed, and then Kyla joined our embrace. I no longer felt as if I was drowning. Plug was my life preserver, and I could conquer anything as long as I held on.
“Okay. Let the girl breathe,” Nick said. Plug and Kyla drew back from me. The air was crisp, the sun was bright, and today was a new beginning.
I lifted the heavy book. “Let's take this to Rose now, so there's no possible chance it can get damaged.”
“Sounds good,” Plug said and nudged the book from my clutch into his own.
The tardy bell rang.
“Who will work the equipment for the broadcast if we're late?” I asked.
“They'll survive without us,” Nick said. His white T-shirt with simple black letters read:
IF LIFE GIVES YOU MELONS, YOU MAY BE DYSLEXIC.
“Mr. Arnold will replace us with other students without even thinking twice.”
Plug linked his free arm through mine and said, “As far as I'm concerned, you are irreplaceable.”
“Thanks, Plug.”
“Rose has a work period first hour,” Kyla said. “Let's use the outer door.” She pointed toward the end of the building.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“We've been her students for the last three years,” Kyla said. “She's like a mother to us, and she'll give us a pass to get into first period late.”
Kyla knocked on the locked door, and few seconds later, Rose opened it. The fragrance of freshly brewed herbal tea and crisply toasted bagels washed over me. I could always count on Rose's room having a delicious new aroma.
“Good morning,” Rose said.
Plug set the book on the desk next to her cream-cheese-covered bagel.
“What's this?” Rose asked.
“I tore a page in the book you loaned me,” I said. “My friends were generous enough to help me find a replacement for you.”
Rose reached out and squeezed my hand. I remained calm.
“Thank you,” she said, “but you are all tardy. You need to get to class.” She stepped away from me and tore four passes off of a tablet.
Plug stole a bite from Rose's bagel, and she smacked his hand.
“That does not belong to you,” she said. He laughed through a mouthful of food. She plucked the half-eaten bread from his clutch, and then she gave us the passes.
Nick said goodbye to Kyla, and she headed down a different hall. The rest of us jogged toward broadcasting.
We skidded to a stop at the studio entrance. Nick blocked my view, but I knew the broadcast was already in progress, because Chelsea's bone-grating voice carried a mile away.
Plug wrapped his arm around my waist, and I relaxed into him. I caught his gaze, and electricity lit through me. Plug leaned in and paused. I knew he wanted to kiss me, but his eyes waited for my consent. The ache and hunger I felt for him eroded my fidelity to Manny. We were at school, and anyone could see us. Someone would tell Manny, but I almost didn't care anymore, because with Plug I felt invincible. All my problems and the world around us faded away. I closed the distance between us and kissed Plug. He tasted like cream cheese.
Nick cleared his throat, but Plug and I continued kissing. Plug pulled me against him, and I stroked the silver ring in his lip with my tongue.
“Dude!” Nick said and whacked Plug's shoulder.
Plug drew back from me, and Manny tackled him to the floor. Rage flushed Manny's face, and carpet burns covered his elbows.