She’s close enough now I can stare into where her eyes should be, and I see mist swirling behind the half- closed eyelids. She opens her lips, and mist churns inside her mouth. She leans toward me and tilts her head, and for a second, I think she’s going to kiss me. But then she exhales, and the mist pours out, filling the space between us. Filling the bathroom.
I can’t help but breathe it in. It’s sweet, like cotton candy, and it enters my lungs, and I feel myself grow weak. I almost fall, but Tanni catches me and holds me by both shoulders. My knees wobble under me, and I can’t take my eyes off her face.
“Chloe will die.”
She says it as she breathes out the mist. It echoes around the room, though it’s only a whisper.
“No,” I say. Chloe is my best friend. Young. Healthy. Chloe is not going to die.
“Chloe will die.”
The echoes continue, like a chorus of dead souls taking turns with a riddle.
This must be some kind of joke.
“Chloe will not die.” I shout, even though it’s only me and Tanni in the bathroom. Me and Tanni and the chorus of voices around us.
“Chloe will die.”
Why won’t she stop saying it? “No!” I scream, and instantly, the voices stop, and the fog disappears. Tanni lets go of my shoulders, and I collapse to the floor, hitting my head on the sink as I fall. I’m all alone.
Chapter 8
Opportunity
I’m not sure how much time passes before some freshman finds me in the bathroom and takes me to the nurse’s office. The nurse bandages my head, and he sends me home on a school shuttle. I spend the whole time convincing myself that Tanni doesn’t exist. She’s just some far-fetched part of my mind playing out my worst fears. I tell myself Chloe won’t die.
When I get home, my mom rushes over and hugs me. I fall into her arms, and I can’t hold back my tears. I let them come, flowing out of my eyes with sobs so loud, the gash on my head pounds with each one. She holds me, never saying a word. Never asking a question. She locks the front door and leads me upstairs, takes my ponytail out, and helps me get into the chem-shower and change into my pajamas.
It’s only when I finish getting dressed, and she pours me a deep glass of red wine and we sit in the family room that either of us speaks. I take a sip, waiting for the familiar relaxation in my veins. My mom has been proclaiming the life-giving powers of wine for as long as I can remember. She claims it’s a gift from the earth herself and grows grapes downstairs just to be able to make it. My mom watches me, never taking her eyes off me.
“I’m so sorry.” I don’t even try to explain or make excuses. “I’m so sorry for everything.” I feel the tears threaten to start again. I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for. I just know that I am.
“Shhhh…” She comes around and sits next to me on the rattan sofa. I lean into her and let her put her arm around me.
“I’m sorry.” I say it again, this time managing to control the tears. It just feels so good to be here with her, knowing she still loves me.
She doesn’t say anything, and I realize she’s rubbing my arm, moving her fingers over my fresh tattoo. I tense up, but none of the plants in the room seem to be dying which I take as a good sign.
“It’s nice,” she finally says. “I like it.”
I wipe my face and turn toward her. “You do?”
She nods. “It makes you even more beautiful.”
I sniff, feeling relief course through me. I’ve done it. I’ve done something for myself and my mom isn’t mad. “Chloe got one just like it.”
“It says
I nod, wondering if I’m the only person on the planet who doesn’t know Greek, but a sob catches in my throat when I remember Tanni from the bathroom.
“What?”
My mom’s eyes are fixed on me, but I don’t want to tell her about Tanni. She’ll think I’m too weak to handle the world without her. How could it have happened anyway? It’s not natural. It’s not possible. And I’m not losing my mind.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask.
My mom’s face freezes, and her eyes look away from mine. “What kind of fate?”
I’m not really sure even though I asked the question. “Do you think people can know the future?” It’s the best I can come up with.
“Your future?”
I shake my head. “No. Anyone’s future. Do you think there are people who know what will happen?”
My mom hesitates before answering. “No. The future’s uncertain. People are too complex and can act in too many different ways.”
I let out the breath I’ve held since I asked the question. I don’t want to believe in fate either.
“I saw you on the tube yesterday,” I say.
“The council meeting.” My mom stiffens next to me. “They’re going to destroy the earth.”
“It’s the missiles, isn’t it?”
My mom stands and walks over to crack open a window. The heat filters through, but now there’s a cross breeze in the room. “It’s everything. Councilman Rendon is lying. He’s deceiving the city for his own personal gain.”
“I could tell,” I say. I don’t mention the green fungus I saw covering him, but I think that’s what the fungus was showing me—his selfish desires for power. “He avoided the question.”
“He’s suppressing the results,” my mom says. “His only concern is the election and to hell with the fate of the earth.”
“Why don’t you say something?” I can’t stand by and watch everything I love be ruined by lies.
My mom leans back against the counter and runs her hands through her hair, and in that moment she looks so vulnerable. “Don’t you think I have, Piper? I’ve brought my concerns to the mayor, but he won’t listen either. It’s like they can’t see beyond the boundaries of Austin. As long as they shove their city under those stupid domes, they could give a rat’s ass what else happens.”
I pat the sofa beside me, and my mom sits back down.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t get so upset.”
“Yeah, mom, you should. If there’s anything worth getting upset about it’s the fact that they’re killing the earth.” Not about tattoos, I think to myself, but I leave that unsaid. “So what are you going to do about it?”
My mom studies me. Her eyes scan over me from the gash in my hair to deep into my soul. And then she finally answers. “There’s nothing I can do, Piper. I think we just need to resign ourselves to our fate.”
It’s a peculiar answer considering she just told me she didn’t believe in fate. And something about the way she looks away makes me think she’s keeping something from me. Like maybe she has some sort of idea how to fix things that I’m not privy to.
I suddenly let out a yawn I don’t even know I’ve been keeping in and realize I can hardly keep my eyes open.
“You’re tired, Piper Rose.”
I nod and curl into her embrace. My eyelids are reminding me I didn’t sleep last night.
We sit in silence, and the wine does its job, relaxing me, calming me. Here, with my mom’s arms around me, I believe things are once again as they should be. And with her accepting my tattoo, I believe she will actually
