Break it.
What the hell does that mean?
Don’t get smart!
Whoops. I only meant for me to hear that thought.
Break off a piece and toss it outside, she says.
This is so strange. I don’t understand what she means, but I fiddle with my new band until it feels like a shard has come loose. A wobbly feeling. I try to throw it.
Like that? I ask her.
And I’m jolted with new knowledge that comes spewing out.
The ground out there. Full of death and pain. Old blood, bones, flesh, hair, teeth, decomposition deep underground. We walk on their graves.
I jolt back into myself and shake my head violently. Intentionally separating myself from what I’ve just seen. This house. This land. Horrors have taken place here.
Who died here? I ask.
If you hadn’t stopped yourself, you’d know.
I don’t wanna see. Tell me, I say.
Before she can respond, I hear a sound outside the back door. With the silence and my heightened senses, the sound has the impact of a rifle shot.
“Grammie Atti? Is that you out there?” I ask with my regular voice.
She says nothing, vocally or otherwise. Forget it. She can yell if she wants to, but I flip my flashlight back on and tiptoe toward the door and look out. I don’t see anyone.
“Grammie Atti, if you’re close, will you please come out now?” I beg. I hear a rustling out in the dark and throw open the screen door just in time to see a figure disappear behind the bushes. My heart drops. I don’t believe this. That scumbag has followed me here.
I steady myself. I’m terrified, but I’m also angry. No more. It’s time to end this.
I shout with all my strength, “Come out now!” I see movement, and, tryin’ not to shake, I shine my flashlight behind the bushes.
“Clay?”
He shrugs, embarrassed. “Uh, hey, Evvie. What’s goin’ on?”
I’m just starin’ at him, not knowing what to say. The kitchen light comes on inside the house.
“What you doin’ out there?” Grammie Atti calls from inside.
“Nothin’. Just a second,” I say to her.
“Clay,” I whisper. “What’re you doing here?”
“D’ya mind…” He points to the flashlight, which I now see is blinding him. I shut it off.
“I was just—checkin’ up on ya.”
“Since when?”
Grammie Atti comes through the door. She looks at us and then at me and smirks.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Clay. Clayton Alexander. Junior, ma’am.”
“I ain’t impressed by good manners, so don’t waste your time.”
“Grammie? Clay’s my—”
“Yeah, I get it. Either leave or come in,” she says, and turns back into the kitchen.
“Sorry, Evvie,” he whispers. I gesture for him to follow me, and we join Grammie Atti in the house.
“I don’t care for uninvited visitors, so—”
“Grammie Atti, please be nice.”
She gives me a look but doesn’t say anything else. She pulls her pipe out and lights it.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt y’all. It’s just—it’s late. And I noticed you leavin’ your house, and I didn’t want anything to happen to you, so I followed.”
“What you think’s gonna happen to her?” Grammie Atti asks, and Clay glances at me like he’s afraid to say any more.
“How’d you know I left?” I ask.
Clay lightly taps the table, guilty.
“Sounds like somebody’s been spyin’ on somebody else,” Grammie Atti says. Then she laughs.
“I wasn’t spyin’. I happened to be in your neighborhood, and I saw you. That’s all. I mean it,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I should leave.”
“Why you afraid to admit you was spyin’? You know you were, and you know it wasn’t the first time,” Grammie Atti tells him. Clay gazes at the floor. He won’t meet her eyes or mine. She’s right.
“What is it you wanna know? Just ask,” she says.
“Nothin’. I told you what I was—”
“He only wants to protect me. There are worse things,” I say in his defense, but I have to say, I’m kinda siding with my grandmother on this one. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right. He’s not telling the whole truth.
“So you her protector, huh?”
“Uh—I mean—yes,” he stammers.
Grammie Atti howls with laughter, and my cheeks get hot. Clay will not be able to charm her, and right now he’s not even trying. I can’t recall ever seein’ him so tongue-tied.
“You thirsty?” she asks him.
He takes a small breath before answering. “Yes, ma’am. A little.”
“I know. Thirsty for knowledge. We ain’t talkin’ ’bout soda pop. What do you wanna know? This is the last time I’m gonna ask you nicely,” she warns.
Clay looks up at her with fear in his eyes, like he’s terrified Grammie Atti’s finna go outside, tear off a switch, and use it on his behind.
“I just…” He swallows. “I just wanted to know what it’s like,” he says.
“What what is like?” I ask.
Grammie Atti holds up her hand to shut me up. She’s focused on Clay. “Does it scare you?”
He’s still for several seconds, and I think he’s ignorin’ her. But after a while, he finally nods his head.
“Good. That means you’re smart. You should be scared. It’s not a bag a parlor tricks,” she explains. I think I know why Clay’s here now.
“You could sit and watch while I help Evvie figure out how to use her many gifts, but you wouldn’t understand half of what we’d be doin’. It’s not for spectators.” Abruptly she turns to me.
“Why’d you tell him?”
I feel put on the spot. Was I not supposed to?
“He noticed somethin’. Didn’t feel right to lie,” I reply.
She inhales some more pipe smoke, turning back to Clay.
“You better be worth it, young man. The more folks that know about us, the less safe we are. The less safe she is.”
“Is there anything I can do to—like—help her?” he asks. I smile a little to myself. He doesn’t understand jubin’ at all—how could he? But it doesn’t matter. If he thinks I might be facing any kinda dilemma, he wants to fix it.
“It’s not an illness. She was born with somethin’ extra, and now she’s figurin’ it out. She doesn’t need your help, and you wouldn’t know how to give
