K. McEntire - Lightbringer

“Oh Curly, I hope not. Believe it or not, so do you.” He glanced around at the chaos and sighed. “It’s not strange that you’re seeing me now, da? I promise. It happens every now and then. The shock of an accident like this one, it can open up the mind. It’ll go away. Just tell yourself you dreamed it. And don’t whisper to adults about me.” He grimaced. “That never ends well.”

“They’d think I was nuts,” Wendy said. She understood about adults. “Or in shock.”

“Crazy as a cuckoo, Curly.” Piotr began walking away, fading rapidly into the mist, calling over his shoulder, “It’s our little secret.” He turned on his heel and waved when he reached the end of the clearing. “Dasvidania, malen’kaya printsessa !”

That had happened four years ago, and while Wendy never forgot Piotr’s face, she never saw him again. Until tonight.

A quiet trill from her bedside table drew Wendy away from her desk to snatch at her cell phone. She had a message.

IKssBoiz&Grls: U in yet, Crouching-Ninja-Hidden-Badass?

Eddie had waited up for her. Smirking, Wendy flopped on the bed to reply.

EgonSpengler: Nah. I’z in ur roomz, haunting ur butt.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Neat! What m I wearing?

EgonSpengler: Ur birfday suit. :P

IKssBoiz&Grls: Lucky guess. 4 real tho, how’d it go?

EgonSpengler: : - (

IKssBoiz&Grls: Aww. Nuthin?

IKssBoiz&Grls: Helllooo?

EgonSpengler: Sry. No sign of her. I had 2 reap 2 nosies tho & 2 others got away…

IKssBoiz&Grls: & what else?

EgonSpengler: Y u think there’s more?

IKssBoiz&Grls: Cuz I’ve known u 4evr.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Sloths msg faster than u right now.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Ur stalling.

EgonSpengler: Fine. K, it’s 2 weird. I saw teens.

IKssBoiz&Grls: & that’s weird, y?

EgonSpengler: Been doin this 4 yrs & like 2nd teen EVAR.

IKssBoiz&Grls: 4 real?

EgonSpengler: Yah. 2 of ’em. B & G. Far away tho.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Maybe they croaked 2gether. Romantic!

EgonSpengler: Right, cuz I’d wanna be 16 4evr. X-(

IKssBoiz&Grls: Live fast, die young, look hot 4 burial.

EgonSpengler: Sicko. Not funny.

IKssBoiz&Grls: U let ur job color ur outlook. B happy!

The upstairs floorboards creaked and Wendy heard a rough cough from down the hall. Sliding off her bed, she hurried to her desk and pulled her Algebra book toward her.

EgonSpengler: Dad’s up. C u l8r. xox

IKssBoiz&Grls: Pick u up @ 7. Bai!

Floorboards squeaked and there was a soft tap at her bedroom door. The door creaked slowly open. “Hey Pippi Longstocking, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Wendy stuffed the phone behind her Lit book. Jabber, spotting her father, hissed and jumped to the floor, scooting through the dust ruffle to hide beneath the bed. “Polynomials are kicking my as—uh, butt.” That little white lie stung somewhat; Wendy did quite well in math when she could find time to concentrate. Luckily, Mr. McGovern gave her leeway when it came to homework since she always aced the quizzes and tests.

“Ouch.” Wendy’s dad eased into her room, gingerly shutting the door. The edge of the door caught his robe and he had to tug it free, ripping the threadbare terry cloth in the process. “Damn,” he cursed, pushing his glasses up his nose. He sagged so that even his plaid pajamas seemed dejected. “This’s my favorite robe.”

“It’s cool, Dad.” Wendy waved her hand at a pile of similarly mauled clothing in the corner of the room. “Chuck it over there and I’ll get to it next weekend.”

“That’s an impressive stack.” Her father neatly folded the robe and set it atop the teetering pile. “How do you manage to constantly ruin or rip up perfectly good clothes?” He held up the stockings from earlier in the evening. “Didn’t we just buy you these last paycheck?”

“You know me,” Wendy lied glibly, “clumsy, clumsy, clumsy.” The clock chimed three downstairs and she held up her notebook. “Is there anything I can help you with, Dad? I have to be up before seven and I’m only half done.”

Her father scratched his thinning red hair and settled on the edge of her bed. He leaned forward and asked, almost apologetically, “Actually, there is. When did you get in tonight, Winifred?”

Wendy paused for a brief moment, as if considering, and then shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. I didn’t check the clock. It wasn’t that late, though.” Setting her notepad down on the corner of her desk, Wendy turned in her seat so that she was facing her father, and arranged her features into a mask of concern. “Why? Did I wake you?”

“No. You never wake me, honey.” Her dad sighed and sat back and rubbed his hand through his hair again, a sure sign of distress. Her father had once had a head of hair as full and garishly auburn as her own…until her mother’s accident. Now he was practically bald.

“Look, Wendy, I know you’re sixteen and you’re practically an adult and all that jazz, I understand that. And you’ve never gotten into trouble. After your mother…well, for the past six months you’ve been a super help around the house. I know the twins wouldn’t cope as well as they do if it weren’t for you.” He hesitated.

Inwardly, Wendy snorted and thought: Well-adjusted. Right. If her father knew half of what was going on in their house, there was no way he’d be in such a big rush to hurry from assignment to assignment the way he did. On the bright side, his willful ignorance left her plenty of time to roam around town in the dead of the night, so she wasn’t anxious to alert him to his misconceptions.

Wendy sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah. But?”

“Wendy, sweetie, I’m just worried about you. You used to be a straight A student. You used to be in choir, you were on the student council. But now you and Eddie…” He waved his hand half-heartedly. “The two of you dye your hair black and paint your nails black and all those piercings can’t be healthy. Don’t even get me started on the ink your mother approved right before…well, you know.”

Wendy’s hand flew to her ears where, under her palms, seven studs marched up the curve from the lobe to cartilage on either side. “Hey! I like my ears.”

“This isn’t a joke, Wendy. You barely sleep, you barely eat, you’re out at all hours, and your grades have been dropping all year. Since your mother landed in the hospital you look like death warmed over, and I’m getting sick of watching you screw up your life.”

Offended, Wendy sat further back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, lips tightening into a thin line, eyes narrowing to slits. “Screw up my life? How so, huh?”

Point blank her father demanded, “Are you two doing drugs?” He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Wendy’s posture. “Pot? X? Some kinda acid or pills, maybe? Speed? You’re skinny enough for it.”

Wendy, stunned, sputtered. She couldn’t believe this. Her button-down, uptight father was accusing her of getting high? Sure she looked rough, but of all the people in the house to point a finger at, why did he pick her?

Ignoring her shock and anger, her father forged on. “I was sixteen once too, Wendy. I’ll understand if you’ve been experimenting, but if you’re on something really dangerous, I have to put a stop to it. I’m not going to let you fry your brain.”

Finally she found some words. They weren’t the right words, but anything was better than gaping at her father with her mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry , Dad, but excuse me? Seriously? I mean…seriously? What the fuck, Dad!”