Эприлинн Пайк: Spells

She wished he would say something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

“What are you going to tell your mom?” Laurel asked, more to break the silence than anything.

David was quiet for a long time and Laurel started to think he wasn’t going to answer her. “I don’t know,” he finally said in a weary voice. “I’m tired of lying.” His eyes darted to her. “I’ll come up with something.”

David turned into the driveway, his headlights cutting across the house. He pressed the button on his visor and the garage door rose slowly to reveal two empty spots.

“Oh, good,” David said with a sigh. “She’s gone. With luck I won’t have to tell her anything at all.”

They climbed out of the car and stood there, avoiding each other’s gaze for a long, awkward moment.

“Well, I’d better change,” David said, pointing his thumb at the side door. “My mom trusts me a lot, but even she would wonder why I decided to take a swim in November.” He laughed tensely. “Fully clothed, no less.”

Laurel nodded and David turned away.

“David?”

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at her but didn’t answer.

“I’m going out to the land tomorrow.”

David looked down at the floor.

“I’m going to tell Tamani that I can’t come see him anymore. At all.”

He looked up at her. His jaw was tight, but there was something in his eyes that gave Laurel hope.

“I’ll need to go back to Avalon next summer to attend the Academy, because that’s important. Maybe more important, with Barnes dead. I don’t like what he said…about things being bigger than him. I don’t even know what the consequences of tonight might entail. I—” She forced herself to stop rambling and took a deep breath. “The point is, I’m going to stop trying to straddle both worlds. I live here. My life is here; my parents are here. You’re here. I can’t live in both places. And I choose this world.” She paused. “I choose you. One hundred percent this time.” Tears threatened, but she forced herself to continue. “Tamani, he doesn’t understand me like you do. He wants me to be something I’m not ready to be. Maybe I won’t ever be ready. But you want me to be what I want. You want me to choose for myself. I love that you care about what I want. And I love you.” She paused. “I–I hope that you’ll forgive me. But even if you don’t, I’m still going tomorrow. You told me I need to choose my own life, and I am. I choose you, David, even if you don’t choose me.”

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t say anything, either.

Laurel nodded despondently. She hadn’t really expected instantaneous results; she’d hurt him too badly. She turned to head out to her own car.

“Laurel?” By the time she looked back he’d grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. His lips found hers — so warm and gentle — as his arms snaked around her, holding her against him.

She kissed him back with abandon, all the fears of the evening rushing away and relief flooding through her body. Barnes was dead. And no matter what was going to happen tomorrow, tonight they were safe. Chelsea was safe. David was safe. And he was going to forgive her.

That was the best part.

He finally pulled away and ran one finger down the side of her face.

She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heart, beating steadily, as if only for her.

David lifted her chin and kissed her again. Laurel leaned back against the car, David following, his warm body pressed gently against hers.

Her parents could wait a few more minutes.

It was after eleven by the time Laurel dragged herself to her front door. She paused as she laid her hand on the doorknob. She could hardly believe that only that morning she had left to attend the festival with Tamani. It seemed like months.

Years.

With a long sigh Laurel turned the knob and let herself in.

Her parents were both sitting on the couch, waiting for her. Her mom jumped up as the door swung open, wiping tears from her face. “Laurel!” She rushed over and put her arms around her. “I’ve been so worried.”

It had been a long time since her mom had hugged her like that. Laurel hugged back, squeezing hard, overwhelmed by a sense of security that had nothing to do with trolls or faeries. A sense of belonging that had nothing to do with Avalon. A love that had nothing to do with David or Tamani.

Laurel pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder. This is my home, she thought fiercely. This is where I belong . Avalon was beautiful — perfect, really — magical and exotic and exciting. But it didn’t have this — this acceptance and love that she found among her human family and friends. Avalon had never seemed so superficial, such an illusion, as right at this moment. It was time she let this be her real home. Her only home.

She heard her father walk up and as she felt his arms encompass them both Laurel was certain she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t live in two worlds, and this world was where she belonged. She smiled up at her parents and sank down onto the couch. They sat on either side of her.

“So what happened?” her dad asked.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Laurel began hesitantly. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, not for a long time.”

And with a deep breath, Laurel began explaining about the trolls, starting all the way back at the hospital the previous fall. She explained why Jeremiah Barnes had never shown up to finish buying the land, and why he had tried to buy it in the first place. She told them about the sentries who had kept them safe. The true nature of the “dog fights” in the trees behind their house. She even told them about Klea; she left nothing out. When Laurel finished relaying the events of that night, her dad just shook his head. “And you did that all on your own?”

“Everyone helped, Dad. David, Chelsea”—she hesitated—“Klea. I couldn’t have done it alone.” Laurel paused and looked over at her mom.

She had risen from the couch and was pacing in front of the window.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Mom,” Laurel said. “I just thought that you dealing with the whole faerie thing was enough without throwing trolls into the mix as well. And I know it’s going to take some time to accept this, too, but from now on, I’ll tell you guys everything, I promise, if you’ll just…if you’ll just listen and still”—she sniffed, trying to hold back tears—“still love me.”

Laurel’s mom turned to her with a look Laurel couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

Whatever Laurel might have expected, it wasn’t that. “What? No, I’m the one who lied.”

“You may have kept secrets from us, but I think you could tell I wouldn’t have listened. And I’m sorry about that.” She leaned forward and hugged Laurel, and Laurel felt her spirits lift and fly in a way she had been certain she would never feel again. She hadn’t realized just how hard it was, hiding so much from her parents.

Her mom sat back down on the couch and put an arm around Laurel. “When you told us you were a faerie, it was weird and unbelievable, but more than that, it made me feel completely useless. You were this amazing thing and had spent your whole life having all these faerie…guards, or whatever, watching out for you. You didn’t need me.”

“No, Mom,” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ll always need you. You were the best mom. Always.”

“It made me so angry. I’m sure that was the wrong way to feel, but it’s how I felt. I took it out on you. I didn’t mean to,” she added. “But I did. And the whole time,” her mom continued, “you were afraid for your life and keeping this huge secret.” She turned to Laurel. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to try — I’ve been trying.”