I never realized how brave he was. Where was this R. J. all the times he was gettin’ on my last nerve? Then again, maybe I just wasn’t payin’ attention. By the time we get to the Heywoods’, I’m glad we ran into each other.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says to me as I open the gate.
“Same goes for you,” I tell him.
We stand there for a second just kinda smilin’ at each other.
“Well? Bye,” I say.
“Hold on, Evvie.”
“Yeah?”
He rubs the back of his head then looks up to the sky. “If there wasn’t no Clayton Alexander Jr., would I have—uh—would I have had a chance? With you?”
Speaking of bravery, that’s a damn brave question. If he’d asked me this a month ago, I might’ve run away screaming, but I feel differently now. With me off-limits, he was able to talk to me like I was a friend, and as a result I learned more about him in the last ten minutes than in all the years we’ve known each other.
I smile again and nod. For some reason, this seems to fill him with complete joy. He beams and practically skips away.
R. J.’s a good guy. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him. I wouldn’t mind it at all. Sometime. Like when I’m all done hexin’ my malcreant.
23
Safe
FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, I legitimately dread leaving work. My “escort” isn’t here yet, so that’s fortunate, but I can feel him closing in.
Miss Ethel and Abigail fuss in the kitchen, so they don’t notice that I’m still here, hoverin’ in the foyer. I’d really hoped that Grammie Atti would’ve given me somethin’ more fast acting this morning. I was prepared to grin and bear his presence for one day, but with her vague instructions, who knows how many days it’ll take to get rid of him? Just the thought of allowin’ him to “escort” me home from work turns my stomach inside out.
I crouch below the front window and dive down, reachin’ for my joy band. Quickly I think about the last time Clay had me laughin.’ Oh lord! The other night he had me dyin’! He was doin’ an impression of Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, but instead of “Stella,” he was hollerin’ “Evvie” at the top of his lungs! I gather it all up and pull it down into my guts. I gotta save the laughin’ I wanna let out so badly for the task at hand.
There it is. My pulsing, giggling, greenish-yellow joy band. I like this one. I hope this one will work.
I breathe deep and close my eyes and feel the short and sweet temporary setting I need right now. A whole new environment… just for a while.
“Jiminy Cricket,” Miss Ethel suddenly cries out. “What is goin’ on?”
I open my eyes with relief and a bit of pride. The sky is now black, even though it’s only minutes past six. It worked.
I slip out the door into the night. Fog accumulates, makin’ it hard to see anything farther than a foot ahead of me. Seeing is harder still, since the power in this neighborhood has just been knocked out. By me. No sun, no lights, just dark.
I worked it out in my head this afternoon. All I need is fifteen seconds at full sprint. Damn, I wish I had on my sneakers! I close my eyes and picture the route I’ll take so I can make it. I mentally count fifteen Mississippis, and then I revert it all. The low sun is back, the fog gone, and electricity restored. Everything is restored.
I slow down right before gettin’ home, smilin’ to myself. As far as I know, the atmosphere change didn’t affect my neighborhood at all. Grammie Atti’s right: I’m gettin’ good at this.
I come in the front, and I can hear Mama out on the back porch playin’ with the girls. Good. They’re all occupied. I go to my room and shut the door. I take out my candles, and I pull the cast-iron pan out from under my bed (this ain’t my first attempt at a hex, but I sure hope this one works). I take it to the bathroom to run some cool water in it, and I bring it back to my room. I remove the candles from their glass holders, and using a hatpin, I carve the word “Virgil” into the side of the white one and “Hampton” into the black one. It’s hard to do and takes longer than I expect. It’s a sloppy job, and the loopy letters are a mess, but I imagine the spirits will know who I’m talking about. I put the candles back into their holders.
Now it’s time to find out if today’s the day. I need it to be today. This has to end. I light the candles, and when they’ve got a good, strong flame goin’, I blow. Lightly, because she didn’t say I had to blow hard.
I blow a couple more times, and they stay lit. They’re still going strong after my fifth try, and I decide this is the day.
I take the music box with his note and his hair, and I grip them tightly while watching the small flames.
“All the evil you do
Can’t touch my loved ones.
It bounces back to you.
All the evil you do
Can’t touch my loved ones.
It bounces back to you.”
I mumble-chant the words faster and faster until it all starts to sound like one long word. My tongue and lips move with a speed beyond my own efforts. As though I’m possessed.
And then it’s dark. And I see them. They’re outside, huddled around a bonfire. Hummin’? I think they’re hummin’. My haints. And that weird girl I met before that looks like me is there too. Still wearin’ them sneakers, denims, and her purple poetry shirt.
Now
