Carrie Jones - Need

"Is it okay if I sit here?" he asks.

I nod. My heart pitter-patters a million crazy, happy rhythms. My brain wonders why he's sitting next to me. There are a million trillion places he could have sat, not to mention where he usually sits.Do not get too excited. Do not wake this into something. Its probably just to talk about pixies.

Nick goes back to the supply closet and grabs his project. He sets it up on the table. It's a wolf stalking through the forest. He's done it all with coiled-up paper.

"That's good," I say, pointing.

He smiles. "Yours too."

We sit there without talking for a minute. I wish he'd say something. Anything. Well, not anything, maybe something nice.

"You're too quiet," I blurt out.

He laughs. "Like you aren't?"

"I didn't sit down with you."

"True, but last nightyou asked meto be your friend." His eyes twinkle.

"Shh. There are some things that should just never be repeated."

He clutches at his heart, pretending to be hurt. "What? You didn't ask me?"

"It just makes me sound so needy."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

He smiles and the smile comes through his voice. "Zara, you are not needy."

I rip another piece of paper and edge it finely with an X-Acto knife while I groan. "Yeah, right."

"Plus," I say after I work a little bit on the wing and my logic. "A real friend would not bring up something that would so obviously embarrass his friend because of its innate patheticness."

He starts laughing, but it sounds like a snort. "Innate patheticness?"

I pretend like I'm going to stab his chiseled forearms with an X-Acto knife. Of course, our art teacher notices.

She points at me with a glue gun. "Zara."

"Just kidding!" I say.

"Do I need to ask Mr. Colt to move?" She wiggles her lips. "Are we having a little love in the afternoon?"

Everybody titters-not laughs, but titters. I can feel my face turning red. "No. No, it's fine. He's fine."

"He sure is," mutters some girl with mall bangs at the next table. Her table mate slaps her five.

"Back to work, people." The art teacher pulls on her smock so the top of her cleavage shows. "Let's leave Nick and the new girl alone."

I scowl and stab the knife into the newspaper. "I hate being the new girl."

"Why?"

I glance up at him, trying not to get all crazy fluttery about his eyes or his jawline or his hands. I don't answer.

We sit there another minute working. I am so ridiculously, intensely aware of him there, right next to me.

It's like I can feel the heat he generates. It's nice.

"Okay, so when I came into school Mrs. Nix was acting really weird. She told me if I'm going to go out at night I should wear my coat inside out."

"What?"

"I know. Weird, right? So I googled 'wearing clothes inside out,' " I say.

"Yeah?"

"It says that pixies can confuse humans alone in the woods at night, but wearing clothes inside out protects us."

He presses paper to glue, paper to paper. "That's weird." He pauses. "I talked to Betty about stuff."

"Yeah, you said that."

"She's going to let you in on some things tonight."

"Why don't you just tell me now?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

He gestures around "People might hear."

"You have to give me a hint what it's about."

"You're pouting. Pouting is not allowed. It's too cute."

My heart opens wide and then his face shifts. His eyes narrow. He suddenly turns serious.

"Tell me now," I insist.

"No way."

"Please."

"I promised Betty."

"So?"

"You know you can't cross Betty."

"True." I give up.

Then after another little bit I get enough courage to say, "If we're Mends I should know things about you."

He opens up his arms. "Go ahead."

"Um." I think for a second. "What do your parents do?"

"They're nature photographers. They travel a lot."

"Really? Where?"

"All over. Right now they're making a film in Africa."

"No way."

"Really."

I start with the glue. It squirts on my finger a little. "So you're all alone?"

"Yep."

I shudder. How awful. "Don't you hate it when they leave you? Don't you feel left behind?"

He shakes his head. "I'm meant to be here."

"Very philosophical," I say and touch my head where the bump is. It still hurts. I wonder if Betty's told my mom about it.

His eyes seem concerned. "No, just the truth."

It's pretty obvious that he's all through with that subject. But I continue on, because I hate it that we're so different.

"It must be nice to know where you're meant to be," I say.

"You'll know someday, Zara."

I shrug.

"I doubt it." I've always had friends, but I've never felt like I fit with the rest of the world. My mom said that it was a normal adolescent thing to feel. I hated her for saying that. I just pounded right out of the room and went running down at the Battery.

"I don't think I'll ever find a place," I say slowly, turning back to stare at my collage instead of Nick. I have to stop staring at him all the time. "I'm just not a person who fits in. That's okay."

"I'm positive you will."

"Really?"

"Absolutely sure."

He motions to the glue brush. "Can I have some?"

I start to grab it so I can it pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.

Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.

Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.

He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend."

The lights come back on.

"Just a little brownout." The art teacher smiles and holds out her arms. "Welcome to Maine, Zara. Land of a million power failures."

Nick's breath touches my ear. "I heard you didn't drive to school. I'll bring you home after crosscountry, okay?"

"Okay," I say, trying to be all calm, but what I really want to do is leap up and do a happy dance all over the art room. Nick is driving me home.

Devyn is waiting for us outside art class.

"What?" Nick says. His face changes into worry. "Issie okay?"

"Yeah," Devyn says, motioning us to follow him. "I found something."

He brings us to a little cubby in the hallway, a place just off the main hall. There's a red door to a supply closet and another to an electrical room. We all barely fit in the nook. Nick squats down to Devyn's level. So do I.

"Okay," Devyn says. "It's not good."

"Just tell us."

"They kiss people," Devyn says.

I laugh. "Who kisses people?"

"The pixies," Devyn explains. He lifts the book from the library. "This is serious, Zara."

"Sorry. Okay. They kiss people," I repeat. I look up at Nick, who has never kissed a girl.

Devyn must notice me looking at Nick's lips because his voice frustrates out, "This is not a good kind of kiss. This is bad. It can kill you."

"Powerful kiss," I say.

"Zara…," Nick warns.

I raise my hands again, leaning my back against the wall for support. "Sorry."

Devyn points at me. "No more interrupting and no more attempting to hide your fear behind pathetic attempts at sarcasm, although I do appreciate it. Anyway, the kiss gives the pixie king some of the power over the woman's soul. And it changes her into a pixie."

"Which means?" Nick asks.

"I'm not sure," Devyn continues. "But if she's all human and has no pixie blood it can kill her."

"Wait," I say. "So, the pixie guy kisses some woman. She either dies or becomes the queen. Either way part of her soul becomes his?"