Carrie Jones - Need

"A little." I decide to be honest. "I miss Charleston. It's so busy and there's a lot of people and flowers and here it's so…"

"Cold?"

I nod. A rabbit pokes up her gray head and looks at us. She sits at the edge of the parking lot, watching.

Her nose twitches.

"Oh, a bunny." I sigh. The little girl in me really likes bunnies. "I've always wanted a bunny."

lssie cocks her head. "Really? A bunny?"

The bunny twitches her whiskers again and surveys the parking lot. The only thing that moves is her eyes.

I blush. "I know it's dumb, but they're so furry and cute and cuddly. I don't know."

"You're just like me!" she says. "I knew it."

"Just like you?"

"A bunny lover." She smiles and hugs me. "There are people who like cute, furry things and people who eat cute, furry things."

I pat her back, probably awkwardly.

"I am so glad you're here," she says, finally letting go. She must think about this and then she revises it. "I mean, it's cold and everything, but we have bunnies, although maybe you have bunnies in Charleston…"

I bite my lip, feeling like I'd revealed way too much about myself. I even have bunny pajamas, but I'm not about to tell Issie or anybody else about that, or about my old stuffed bunny, Edgar, and how he sleeps next to my pillow every night.

"Do you want to come over?" Issie asks. The wind blows her fuzzy hair off her forehead and then into her mouth. She spits it out and keeps smiling.

"Hair is not tasty," she says. "You look super cold."

"Ah…" I unlock the car, pressing my hand against my stomach. "I think I need to go get my car registered at the town office, I'm sorry."

I am. Really. Disappointing Issie is like telling a four-year-old that ice cream cones have been banned. If it has to be done, you don't want to be the one to do it.

She stands still. Her face crumples. She tries again.

"Oh, okay. I have a really cute cat, Muffin. You'd love her, I know."

I nod. "That's a cute name for a cat."

"It's not really original," she says and then she hugs herself. "How about just for a minute? There's a lot of stuff about town I should tell you. And Devyn wants to talk to you about the guy you saw. We'll just swing around front and pick him up. I always bring him home. Thank God. He hated riding the special-ed bus."

"That would be cool," I say, unlocking my car door. "You don't think he's still out here, do you?"

"Devyn?"

"No. The guy."

"Oh, I'm sure he's long gone," she smiles. "Right? Okay. Just follow me, okay?"

She waves and bounces away and I start smiling, really smiling. I can feel it all the way to my heart, even though I can't actually see the smile. I haven't smiled that big for a really long time, but Issie is just so cute and lovable that maybe Maine will be okay after all.

Giant snowflakes drift down from the sky. I tilt my head back as they fall. They are really beautiful when they fall soft and gentle. I stick out my tongue and catch one. It melts in a second.

I catch another.

And another.

The roads aren't too terribly icy and I manage to follow Issie's little Volkswagen to her house without skidding, slamming on the brakes, or anything like that.

The whole time I'm driving I'm thinking: This is where my dad grew up. These are the roads he drove.

These are the roads he won't ever drive again. Then I swerve to avoid a pothole. lssie is hauling out Devyn's wheelchair while I park and check out the house.

"Your house is cute," I say.

"It's very shingled Cape." She grimaces. "Very Maine. Charleston houses aren't like this, are they?"

"Not really," I say, and lock the car. It makes a comfortable beeping noise.

"You don't have to lock it," Devyn says. He's standing up beside his chair. I must make some sort of funny look. "Yeah, I can stand."

"I'm sorry. I'm such a jerk. I was staring, wasn't I? God, that's awful. I'm awful." I can feel my face go all red as Devyn plops himself into the wheelchair.

"I'll forgive you this time." He smiles. He unlocks some gadget thing on the side and starts wheeling toward the front door.

"Devyn may eventually walk again," lssie brags, opening the big red door. "He's got the doctors all astonished. He wasn't ever supposed to stand after the accident. He's a good healer."

Devyn gets this pained, embarrassed look so I don't ask about the accident. He changes the subject. "lssie's parents work late."

"At the bank," lssie explains. She flops on the couch, pats the cushion next to her, then lunges back up.

"Oh. I should offer you something to eat. Are you guys hungry?"

"I'm good," I say, taking in the room, the coziness of it. It's almost like a timber frame house, I would guess.

"Starving," Devyn says.

Issie bounds into the kitchen and conies back with a tub of Breyers ice cream. She plops it on Devyn's lap and gives him a spoon. "You are always hungry."

He flips off the top and digs in. "Too true."

We watch him eat. Issie falls back on the couch, but she's so hyper she starts twitching her foot. The silence is big.

"So…," I say. "You guys were going to tell me about the man outside the cafeteria. Have you ever seen him before?"

Devyn swallows. "I'm not sure. He creeped me out, which is not manly, I know."

"You are totally manly," Is announces in a way that makes both Devyn and me blush. She stops twitching. "Devyn looked up some stuff. You are probably going to have a hard time believing this."

I wait. "Uh-huh…"

"You want to tell her?" Issie asks.

Devyn sticks the spoon in the ice cream carton. It stands up straight. He toughs out the words, "We think he's a pixie."

I wait more.

Issie rushes in. "Okay. I know it sounds weird, but hear us out, okay?"

I wonder for a second if everyone in Bedford, Maine, is insane or just Devyn and Issie, and possibly me.

I decide to play along. "Okay."

"Okay," Issie continues. "Okay… um…"

"You said you saw him at the airport in Charleston," Devyn starts.

"On the runway." I pull my legs up under me and settle into the couch. "And then I saw him here."

I shudder, remembering.

"That's so weird," Issie says, tapping her fingers against her leg.

"I know it's weird." I nod. I take a pillow from the couch. It's dark green and has felt leaves on it. I hug it. "I thought I was imagining it. But you guys saw him today, right?"

They nod.

I ask the question. "You think he's a pixie?"

They nod again.

The spoon falls over in the ice cream.

"Aren't pixies little winged things that dance around flower gardens?" I ask.

"Not exactly." Devyn grabs the spoon like it'll steady him somehow.

"Why do you think he's a pixie?" I finally say, trying to take it all in.

"He gets from place to place really fast and he leaves gold dust where he walks," Issie says. "Totally pixie ruler behavior. At least, um, according to the Web site Devyn found."

"Gold dust? Like Tinker Bell?" I stand up. It's too much. "Is this a joke? Some initiation prank, like let's torment the new girl?"

"We would never do that to you. That would be so mean." Issie frowns, all crushed.

Devyn's voice raises an octave. "I told you not to tell her the dust part. It sounds stupid."

"I know it sounds stupid." Issie stands up with me. "But it's true."

"Right. It's true," I say. I jingle my car keys, itching to leave, but still wanting to hear this for some stupid reason.

Issie's practically pleading. "But the Web site said so."

"Well, we're not sure it's true, Is. It's a working theory," Devyn says. His eyes look pained. "I know it seems ridiculous, Zara. I mean, I think it's kind of ridiculous, but I've been all over the Web and I can't find anything else that would explain this guy."