P. Hoover - Solstice

“So where have you been?” I ask.

He shakes his head and puts the pack of matches back in the recess. “I’ve been around.”

“But I haven’t seen you.” And if I haven’t seen him, he may as well not be around.

“You haven’t called me.”

He’s right. I haven’t, and I’m not entirely sure why. “You’re busy.” It’s the best reason in my mind. I opt not to mention the walk in the woods with Melina or the bedroom full of flowers from Reese. I’ll sort out Reese on my own.

Shayne nods. “Never too busy for you.”

I smile whether he means it or not.

“I almost came by yesterday,” he says.

My heart flutters. “Really?”

“I got to your front door,” he says. “I almost knocked.”

Had I felt his presence? I’d been so worried about Chloe, I hadn’t thought of much else. “Why didn’t you?”

His lips tighten. “I thought your mom might be home. I didn’t want her to see me.”

“You’re not scared of my mom are you?” Though in actuality, he probably should be. I’m scared of my mom.

“I’m not sure scared is the most appropriate word,” Shayne says.

“So why not just come to class?”

Shayne leans close and whispers into my ear. “It’s hard, Piper. I’m trying so hard to stay inside the boundaries, but more than anything in the world, I want to tear them down. And I can’t. No matter what that ends up meaning.”

“What boundaries?”

Shayne only responds by kissing my ear. It comes out of nowhere, and I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to the Elysian Fields. But when I look around, I see we’re still here in the church, though a small hidden corner of it. Taking part in Randy’s final blessing.

My corner of happiness vanishes when I feel eyes on me; they fill me with dread. Slowly, I turn around toward the back of the alcove. Tanni—Fate—stands next to a statue of the Virgin Mary, her eyes matching the empty eyes of the statue. Her friends stand on either side of her, sunglasses on but watching me.

The statue’s hands are extended out in front out her, reaching out to implore those who would listen. Tanni’s arms lift to match.

The church around me enters a bubble of muffled words and fades into background. Outside of the bubble exist only me, Shayne, Tanni, and her two friends.

My body tenses as rage builds inside me. “You were wrong,” I say. “Chloe did not die.”

Next to me, Shayne stiffens. “Don’t talk to her, Piper.”

It’s too late for that. Tanni’s soulless eyes look at me, but it’s like she didn’t hear me. “It’s your fault,” she says.

Shayne pulls on my hand. “Let’s go.”

I pull my hand away from his. I don’t need him telling me what to do now. “Chloe did not die,” I say. I want Tanni to hear me. I want everyone to hear me. I know I’m yelling, but I don’t care. Chloe is alive.

Tanni’s eyes shift to Shayne. “You have no reason to be here.” And just like that, he vanishes.

I stare at the spot where he was. “What did you do to him?” I demand.

Tanni shakes her head, and her hair moves from side to side in a cascade. “It’s all your fault, Piper.”

“What’s my fault? And where is Shayne?”

Tanni steps forward and grabs my wrist, and her cold steel grip is like a vise. I’m not sure why I bother struggling, but I do, trying to break my wrist free until it hurts.

“Randy Conner is dead,” she says.

I nod, and with her grip and her words and the fog circling behind her empty eyes, she’s got me. I’m rooted in place.

“And it’s your fault.”

“What is?” But something’s starting to come together inside me. A nasty itching sensation in the back of my mind. I don’t want to face it.

“You killed him.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You killed Randy Conner. It’s your fault.”

“How?” It’s the only thing I can manage to say.

“Someone had to die. It wasn’t his time. It’s your fault.”

I stare at her now, and I can’t pull my eyes from her face. The truth slams into me like a freight train. I saved Chloe. But at what cost? Randy was one of two hundred and eighty-seven people to die. Would he really be alive right now if not for me?

“It’s your fault.” Tanni says it a final time and then lets go of my wrist. She walks back and joins her friends at the Virgin Mary, and they fade until they’re gone.

The bubble around the world slips away, and the church is reanimated. Mass has ended, and six of Randy’s friends carry out his casket. No one has heard anything. And Shayne is gone.

My fault. I hear it in my head. Is Randy Conner’s death my fault?

I wait for the church to empty, and then I head home.

My mom is home. The second I walk through the door, a giant burden lifts from my shoulders. She’s not dead. I can voice this concern in my mind now that I know she’s okay. The cold feeling in my gut I’ve been carrying around since the day she was supposed to come back dissipates. I didn’t even realize it was there, weighing on me.

She moves around in the Botanical Haven, cutting dead leaves off plants all over the place. And she’s taken the calla lilies Reese gave me and set them on a table at the front of the store. The glass vase shimmers from the sunlight coming through the windows. I’ll have to explain why I have illegal flowers. Maybe I can lie and say I cut them myself.

“Hi, Mom.”

She gives me a sideways glance and then looks away. Snip. Snip. More leaves fall. Some aren’t even dead.

I walk in and decide to go ahead upstairs. Let my mom have her time and then come talk to me when she’s done. After all, if either of us should be angry about something, it’s me. My mom should have been home on Monday. She didn’t call. Didn’t give an explanation. Didn’t do anything except not show up. Yet, even with all that, my stomach is clenched in fists of guilt.

“Did you miss me?” she says.

I turn, halfway up the steps. She’s at the bottom looking up at me, scissors in hand.

“You said you’d be back on Monday.”

My mom sighs and pulls off her gardening gloves, tossing them onto the counter by the cash register. “Things got complicated.”

My heart skips a beat. “With my father?”

She nods, and I notice her eyes glance to my tattoo. I look down at it and focus on the bumps faded from redness into just the black of the ink.

“Who is he?” I haven’t asked in years. A lifetime. Not since I got over the dream of living a normal life with a normal family.

My mom turns away and walks to the door, locking it from the inside. It’s early. No one who went to Randy Conner’s funeral went back to school afterward, but if my mom knows about the funeral, she doesn’t say anything.

“Who is he?” I repeat my question, wondering if I’ll ever know.

“It doesn’t matter, Piper.”

I throw my backpack to the ground, watching it tumble down the five steps I’ve already gone up. “Yes. It does. You spin me some story about how he’s some escaped terrorist and then you spend almost a week with him? And then you come back here and tell me it doesn’t even matter who he is. It doesn’t add up, Mom. If he’s so bad, why have you been gone so long? What’s complicated anyway? What complications could there possibly be?”

My mom’s eyes meet my own, and it’s like she’s begging me to drop the subject. To stop asking my questions. I don’t want to stop. I’m sick of living a life filled with her mysteries. Or lies. They seem to blend together.