It’s her. I’m scared to address her, but my mind is blank. I can’t think of no other options.
“Miss Corinthia? Ma’am? Can I go please?” I timidly ask. She smiles with complete ease—no facial tension or tics. I can move again, and as I turn to quickly get away, I stumble into Clay.
“What’s the matter?” Clay asks me.
I try to speak, but then I almost fall cuz I’m dizzy, and he catches me.
“She all right?” somebody asks. Mrs. Alexander watches all this, arms crossed. I don’t think I’m makin’ such a good impression on her tonight.
“I’m fine,” I say, but Clay ain’t convinced.
“Can we go outside for a minute?” I whisper, and I hardly get the words out before he’s got my hand and he’s pullin’ me past the hordes to the back door and out on the porch.
Hallelujah! I can breathe again. And I managed to hold on to my plate!
“Oh god. Thank you,” I say with a laugh. His face is full of worry.
“Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick to your stomach?”
“No,” I assure him. “Not at all. Think I was just startin’ to feel… suffocated.”
He nods. I flash him an everything’s okay smile, and then I eat my cake in silence.
“Why did you ask Aunt Corinthia if you could go?”
I didn’t realize he’d heard me say that. I wish he hadn’t.
I slowly take a bite and try to think of an explanation that he might accept. All I can come up with is the truth.
I need to sit, so I plop onto the porch swing. Clay joins me, and our knees touch. He searches my face.
“It’s not this huge thing, and it’s nothing you should worry about,” I start. Then I stop to take a breath. I’ve been nervous about havin’ this conversation with him. Some part of me hoped I’d never have to. I don’t want him to think I’m a freak, but whatever I am, I’m no liar.
“What is it, Evvie?”
“I have… certain unusual abilities. One of ’em is—well—” I laugh anxiously. “I just learned that one of ’em is bein’ able to sense others like me when I’m in their presence. Your aunt Corinthia is like me,” I say. It’s vague as hell, but I’d be delighted if Clay could just be satisfied with this answer without follow-up questions.
“What do you mean by ‘abilities’?”
Goddamn follow-up questions. Guess I can’t hide who I am forever.
“Sometimes, mostly when I’m feeling emotional in some way, I can make things move, manipulate things, and I can also… sometimes read peoples’ thoughts. I can often feel things that are goin’ on far away from me. They call that bein’ two-headed. And every now and then, I get visions and see haints. I think that’s all of it, but I don’t know for sure. Feels like I’m learnin’ new things I can do all the time.” I must sound like a bona fide lunatic right now. Regardless, I decide to say nothin’ more until he speaks.
I try to read his face, but it’s impenetrable. The good thing is he doesn’t look scared. He looks like he’s in geometry class workin’ on a complex theorem.
“You know all this. For sure?” he asks carefully.
I nod. “My grandmother calls it Jubilation, which makes no sense if ya ask me. I don’t know if she made that up or if it was taught to her. She’s been helpin’ me figure it all out. Kinda like tutoring me.”
“Miss Athena Deschamps? You been spendin’ time with her?”
Oh yeah. Crazy ol’ Athena Deschamps. I’d almost forgotten about all the folks who think my grandmother’s bonkers. It’s understandable, if unfair. Maybe it’s cuz she doesn’t care what anybody thinks of her that I forget about her reputation.
“Yes. There’s nothing wrong with her,” I tell him.
“I ain’t sayin’ there is, but hasn’t she like… hurt people?” he asks.
“Who hasn’t?” I reply. She’s put the hurtin’ on some people, rarely, though. In fact, I don’t know of anybody that’s been hurt as a direct result of Grammie Atti’s practical magic. Gossip and rumors.
Clay lightly rocks the swing back and forth, starin’ off into the distance.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, though I’m not sure I wanna know.
He turns to me and holds my gaze for a second, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You’re not gonna tell me?”
“I did. I wanted to see if you could read my mind,” he says.
“Stop it. I’m not doin’ that.”
“Have you read my thoughts before?” he asks, and he’s so quiet his words almost fly away on the wind before reachin’ me.
“No. I never have.”
He doesn’t ask again, but his eyes do. They plead with me for honesty.
“It’s true, Clay. I’ve never even tried. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t—violate you.”
He sighs and looks away, but our knees are still touching.
“So, what? Are you a witch?”
I swallow. “Are you makin’ fun?”
“No. It’s just—ya know—a lot,” he explains. “I mean, havin’ psychical and magical powers ain’t exactly—” He stops himself. I know what he was gonna say. He was gonna say it ain’t normal. I’m glad he didn’t say it.
“Ain’t it possible that some a the strange things that have happened mighta been coincidences?” he asks. I sink back into the swing. It’s not like I expected him to immediately believe everything. Still. I hadn’t pegged Clay as a doubtin’ Thomas.
“The first time you took me to the colored children’s library. Remember the rainbow?”
He does, but he shakes his head.
“You said that was a natural wonder.”
“I lied.”
He raises an eyebrow, but I can see he’s still unconvinced.
“Clay? Do you remember the day you had Sunday dinner at my house? And we were out walkin’ and we saw those leaves on the ground?”
His whole demeanor changes. He’s seeing those words on the ground again. Those perfectly
