Darian
I didn't open my eyes right away, and for once, it wasn't because I was still tired and that they were too heavy. I just didn't want to get up yet. The bed felt so comfortable, and I was reluctant to leave after such a good night's sleep.
I took a few deep, refreshing breaths, taking note of how clear my nose felt. The worst of the cold must be over. My eyes still half-shut, I sat up - not the slightest bit sore! - and yawned and stretched. I was mostly awake by that point, and I sighed when I realized that I would not be getting back to my good dreams (especially one in particular). Such wonderful, wonderful dreams...
Wait, what?
My eyes snapped open, and the first thing that popped into my mind just so happened to be the first thing I saw. Jack, I remembered thinking just before passing out, and there he was, sitting in a chair across my room, staff in hand, as always. As my eyes narrowed in anger, his widened, probably realizing for the first time just how much trouble he was in. He was just fortunate enough to not be within punching distance. Instead, I resorted to the pillows at the foot of my bed.
It's funny - the things you forget when you're mad. Funnier still is what you remember. In this instance, eloquence was completely abandoned (and a certain pleasant dream), but I somehow recalled that Jack did not like to be called by his full name.
"Jackson! Overland! Frost! You! Creep!" I yelled, emphasizing each word by throwing a pillow his way. Jack had to hold up his staff to shield his face.
"Hey!" he protested, only to be pelted by a pillow a second later.
"Get out! Get out!" I realized that I had run out of pillows, so I grabbed the hat that I had left sitting on the bed and prepared to throw it.
"Well, this is a great way to thank someone who saved you last night!" Jack snapped, causing me to pause. I lowered the hat slightly.
"What are you talking about? Saved me from what?"
He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, so 'saved' is a bit of an exaggeration." Not amused, I threw the hat directly in his face. He tried to throw it back but missed spectacularly. I fought the urge to laugh (he always knew how to make me laugh), determined to stay mad at him. "That doesn't mean I didn't try to help you last night. Believe me, I know how bad this looks, but I can explain." I thought it odd that he was always having to explain things to me.
"I'd like to see you try."
Jack took a deep breath and spoke quickly. "Okay, so when you told me about your Nightmares, I started to get worried because a few nights ago, I thought I had seen a shadow moving in your room. So-"
"What were you doing looking into my room?"
"Really? That's what you focus on?" I gave him an annoyed glare that he promptly ignored. "Anyway, I was worried that, you know, Pitch came back and was after Jamie." My face fell a little, and I swallowed hard at the mention of the bogeyman. "But since I thought I had seen him in your room, I needed you asleep."
"Pitch Black was in my room, and you didn't tell me?" I exclaimed.
"I kind of figured that you would freak out. You're very good at overreacting."
"Am not!" I insisted. Jack chose to ignore me again.
"Also, you couldn't really see me at the time. Now, back to the matter of importance," he continued.
"Am not," I muttered under my breath, but must have heard me because he rolled his eyes at about the same time.
"I had a talk with the Sandman to get you to go to sleep and set a trap for the bogeyman. He showed up, I sent him on his merry way, happily-ever-after-the-end (as Sophie would say). See? Nothing bad happened. Any questions?"
"You used me as bait?" I squeaked, wishing for more pillows.
Jack chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, when you put it like that, I guess it does sound kind of bad." I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose in annoyance.
"You think?" I whispered, feeling the annoyance fade into something worse, something far more sinister: fear. I felt about ready to cry, but I didn't, and I was proud of myself for that. The bogeyman was in my room, the thing that had tried to murder my cousin. That tyrant had apparently stood next to me in the shadows, like I had always feared, and for what? I had a feeling that I wasn't going to like the answer. Jack must have noticed my shoulders trembling because he tentatively approached me, reached out a hand that might have been meant to console, but withdrew it suddenly when I eyed it warily.
"Are you okay?" he asked. What a stupid question!
"What did he want?" I murmured, not trusting my voice to not waver at any volume above a whisper. Jack heard me, even though I could hardly hear myself. Jack heard me, and he grew quiet, as well. "Why was he in my room?" I tried after Jack did not answer.
"He, uh...he was sort of manipulating your fear, I guess. It makes him stronger. He was after your dream. He said it was easier to turn than most. That's why-"
"That's why I've always had Nightmares," I concluded, shaking.
Jack only nodded in confirmation. We both grew silent for a while as I grappled with the fear that I might be doomed to suffer this eternally all because I was different. I was weird. I was weak. Strangely enough, this feeling was not unfamiliar to me. "I was there, though. I stopped him," Jack said to break the silence.
"This time," I pointed out. "You were there this time, but you won't be there every time, now will you?" I surprised even myself at the amount of hurt in my words, and I wondered if I was talking more to myself than to him. Too much fear, too many memories were mixing in my mind for comfort, and I wanted them to go away.
Pairs of small hands, slick with sweat from playing outside, clasped together and swung back and forth as the girls laughed, throwing back their heads in the summer sun. These same hands so often clapped together, snapped together, wove their fingers together, and pinkie promised that they would always be together.
Jack flinched, but he was persistent in his attempts to make me smile. "I thought you didn't want me in your room - personal space and all that," Jack teased in an effort to draw me out of myself. It worked, but it took every ounce of my strength to not slap him.
"That's not the point!" I spat, wondering why - why couldn't he just keep out of things?
Taken aback, he mumbled a small apology. "I was just trying to help."
"Do you really think that any of this helped? Do you think that I'm just supposed to sleep better at night, knowing what will happen as soon as I close my eyes, knowing what's out there? I had one night of good dreams. So what? What's it worth in the long run?"
It was funny when I thought about how 'what's out there' fascinated me so much just yesterday. Ignorance was bliss, after all. I was so eager, so happy to jump into a whole new world without realizing what it hid in its shadows. It terrified me now.
Jack hung his head in defeat for a moment. "I'm sorry," he sighed, looking up at me with pitiful, perfect blue eyes. He truly was sorry. I could see the honesty in his eyes, and I was reminded of that night at the pond, where he had trusted me with something personal, something heartbreaking. Those eyes made me want to melt. (Yes, I see the paradox in that.)
But the fact remained that I had also trusted him, and in some way, that trust had been fractured by this ordeal, not completely broken, but hurt, nonetheless. I willed myself to stay mad at him, even though my cheeks betrayed a slight blush under his gaze, which of course, he saw and took some confidence in. "We could go flying again tonight," he offered, a subtle plea for forgiveness in his tone. "You wouldn't have to stay here."
Jamie chose that inopportune moment to open my door. (Why did everyone feel the need to invade my personal space?) I suspected that he had probably been listening outside the door for a while. There was a question in his eyes that I preferred not to answer. I stood and faced Jack. "I'll think about it," I said stiffly. "Get out. Now."
"Darian, I-" he started to say, but I didn't want to listen anymore. I knelt down, picked up a fallen pillow, and swiped him across the head before he could finish. Jamie didn't seem to know whether to laugh or to stop me, so he stood numbly in the doorway as I herded Jack towards him with flimsy bashes with the pillow.
"I want to be alone right now," I told Jack before slamming the door on both him and Jamie. I stood by it a little while longer, and I knew I heard Jamie's voice and footsteps fading as he walked down the hallway - Jack flew. I sighed heavily, feeling the tension release as I adjusted to being alone, leaving...what exactly?
There was fear. I was afraid, but it wasn't as horrible as it had once been. I wondered why for a long moment before noticing the other feeling that swelled ever so slowly. There was hope. Throughout all of this, I still felt hope. Jack had said that he and the Guardians had defeated Pitch before, and I wondered if maybe, just maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. Maybe Jack really could protect me. He obviously cared enough to try (and though I could never admit it, the thought of that made my heart skip a beat).
But I was not a child. I was not a part of their world.
Wasn't I? After all, I hoped, I wondered, and I dreamed. I could have fun.
But I also remembered things. I remembered things that I wished could disappear as easily as the darkness did when I turned on the light.
I knew that I needed to think my way out of these memories and Nightmares, so quickly, I gathered my things and ran to the shower. The steam cleared my head, and the rain streamed down my face, cleaning the surface.
One lonely pair of small hands gripped their shaking arms, sticky and tear-soaked after trying desperately to dry the girl's hot, wet face.
I scrubbed hard on my hands, wishing that the memories and Nightmares could just go away. Just go away! They would not leave me. They stained like blood on my hands, so instead, I pushed them back, hiding them in some shadowy corner where they dwelled naturally, where they could not be seen. Out of sight, out of mind. Of course, it was in my mind where they resided.
Still, I emerged from the shower feeling refreshed and new. With the fear and the past somewhat forgotten, hope reigned with some newfound freedom. I felt that maybe trust would follow soon after.
Jamie
Why? Why was it that whenever I saw Darian and Jack together, they were fighting? Jack and I retreated to my room, away from my cousin's wrath. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I remembered hearing somewhere, and I wondered what exactly Jack had done this time because it was almost certainly his fault.
"What was that all about?" I asked, closing my door behind us.
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his that I noticed him doing a lot, lately. "Darian's upset with me," he answered too simply.
"Yeah, I got that," I said flatly, knowing how he was just going to skirt around this issue, like always. "What happened last night? You said that you would tell me."
"I said that I would tell you when you got back from the mall."
"Jack!"
"Nothing happened!"
"She was hitting you with a pillow," I pointed out.
"Okay, so nothing happened that you should worry about," he tried. I nearly hit him with a pillow this time.
"Jack, stop treating me like a little kid!" I yelled. Jack flinched and blinked in confusion. "I mean, I'm still a child and all, but you keep treating me like I'm helpless and can't handle anything. Two years ago, I looked Pitch in the eye, and I wasn't afraid, and I've grown since. I've believed in you all this time. You need to believe in me."
Jack sighed, looking down at the ground in defeat. I suspected that this day was not going very well for him at all. "Pitch showed up," he admitted. "I thought he might be after you, but he's hurting Darian. Darian's mad at me because I made her go to sleep to catch him without telling her my plan and for going in her room without her permission."
I nodded at this information and sat on my bed. Jack joined me, leaning his head against his staff. "Pitch got away?" Jack's silence was confirmation enough. I didn't like when he was like this. The Guardian of Fun: that title carried with it the implication that its bearer should always be smiling, always laughing, always playing tricks or causing mischief. When he frowned like this, he didn't look like himself. How many times now had Darian been the cause of his worry?
"I screwed everything up," he groaned. "I'm sorry."
"No, I get it, and I know Darian will, too. You're a Guardian. You're supposed to protect, but don't you think that hiding stuff from people will only hurt them - and you - in the long run?"
"Darian's going to kill me."
"Not kill. Just maim or seriously injure." Jack laughed at this. After a moment, I told him, "I can help you, Jack. I'm a part of this world, too."
Jack didn't say anything, but I knew that we were thinking about the same thing: that morning at the pond after we had defeated Pitch and Jack had become an official Guardian. I had run to him, fearing that he would leave me forever. I had only just met him.
"We'll always be there, Jamie," he had said. He had pointed to my heart, then. "And now, we'll always be here, which sort of makes you a Guardian, too."
I grinned. I was a Guardian. I was a Guardian for the Guardians because without believers like me, they would fall.
Jack tousled my hair before flying off, muttering something about apologizing to Darian again. I proceeded to get dressed to go to the mall and left my room to wake my sister, accidentally bumping into Darian on her way out of the bathroom. Her hair still damp, it hung in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck in place of the wild, fraying braids that she'd worn earlier. She looked much happier than when I'd last seen her, and when she saw me, her eyes lit up with...something. It was close to laughter, but not quite.
"Jamie, is there something that Jack really hates?" she asked, unable to hide a small smile. I could guess her payback scheme easily enough, but maybe, like the rest of the world, I was feeling particularly sadistic towards Jack that morning - or towards Darian, considering that she would be the one dealing with his complaining all day.
I mirrored her mischievous grin. "Shopping. He really hates shopping."
"Thanks. Now, I'm going to go do nothing with that information," she said with an obvious note of sarcasm. As I watched her go, hardly able to contain my laughter, I couldn't help but think of how none of our plans ever went the way we expected.
Jack
The mall at Christmastime almost reminded me of the North Pole. Parents were running around frantically, trying to fulfill their children's last minute wishes while their children tottered about, generally wreaking havoc and wrecking their parents' nerves. Only, the mall was much less fun, and I wasn't allowed to freeze anything here. (Okay, so I wasn't actually allowed to freeze anything at the Pole, but you get the idea.)
What was I supposed to do, though? I had moped around Darian's window forever while she took the longest shower in history, waiting to apologize. When she had finally opened up, smiling in a way that really should have made me expect trouble, I had been overjoyed at the prospect of things being okay between the two of us. (Because, well, you know. Jamie hated seeing us fight and...stuff.) Then Darian had to go and open her mouth, and that had been when I finally recognized a hint of my own trademark mischievousness in her smile, so unused to seeing it painted on her face that I hadn't noticed it at first.
"I have a dare for you, Jack," she had said, and I recalled our game from the other night. I would have been happy, but she was still smiling oddly, and unsure of whether or not I was going to enjoy this, I had hesitantly motioned for her to continue. "I dare you to go shopping with me."
I should have protested. After all, I had been planning to report to the Guardians about Pitch's reappearance after I apologized, but then, Darian had reminded me of the rules - the same rules that I had thrown in her face to get her to entrust me with her secret fears. I had realized then that I really did have a bit of a debt to pay, so reluctantly, I had allowed myself to be dragged to the mall.
That didn't mean I was going to go quietly, though.
I kept my hood up over my head, hovering just above the crowds and right next to Darian's ear so that she could hear me mumbling complaints. Other than a slight twitch of annoyance at the corner of her mouth, Darian attempted to show no sign that she heard me. Jamie, on the other hand, kept sneaking glances at me, a small laugh escaping from him every once in a while. I could guess that he had been the one to give her the idea, and while the adults struggled with their shopping plans for the day, I debated whether or not I should decorate Jamie's room with a fresh blanket of snow. Or perhaps ice would be better?
Our party fought our way over to the absurdly long line to meet Santa Claus, and I don't think anyone was able to suppress a groan at the wait time. Mrs. Bennett discreetly looked over a stack of Christmas lists and shook her head. "We're never going to be able to get everything after this," she whispered to the other adults, Darian included, as she was assumed to be old enough not to believe in such childish icons. Jamie and Sophie, on the other hand, had made their opinions on the subject quite clear over the years.
Darian looked down at Sophie, who looked very different after having her matted hair ripped through a brush and being forced into a decent-looking sweater for her Santa picture. Sophie was still pouting about this while clinging to Darian's hand. The two of them had gotten very close over the past week, which had been a bit of relief to me. (You can only make the mistake of playing 'Princess' with a toddler once and later washing off both the shame and the makeup. Bunny still had a picture of it to blackmail me.) "I could wait with Sophie while you shop with Jamie," Darian offered, coughing lightly behind her hand at the end of her sentence - the remnants of her cold.
"Are you sure?" asked Darian's mother. Jamie had called her Aunt Ruth, I believe.
Darian nodded. "Yeah. We can meet back up in the food court for lunch."
Darian's father, Uncle Cody, spoke next. "You have your phone on you, right?"
She patted her purse securely strapped across her before hugging him. "I'll be fine, Dad," she assured him. The adults dragged Jamie off to a nearby clothing store, and I was tempted to follow them out of sight and leave, but Darian gave me a glare that told me my torture was not even close to being over. Grumbling, I pulled the drawstrings of my hood until it covered my eyes, and for the longest time, I floated and listened to the collective whines of bored and impatient children as the line inched forward at a snail's pace.
I finally pulled my hood back when I heard Sophie cry out. I saw her jumping up and down and pointing enthusiastically to a large toy store nearby. She tugged on Darian's hand, the only thing that kept her from charging through the candy-cane striped ropes that defined the line, and begged her to go over there. Darian told her "no" several times, desperately trying to get her to settle down; people were starting to stare at the fuss.
Like I said, I was choosing not to put up with my punishment patiently, so just to annoy Darian further, I joined in on Sophie's protests.
"Oh, come on, Darian. Let's go! Pretty please? This is too boooring," I chanted with Sophie. Darian was less than amused at my antics.
"See? Jack wants to go, too," Sophie said, pointing up at me. Darian didn't even bother to glare this time. She kept her eyes on Sophie.
"If you promise to be good, I promise we'll go after your picture," Darian told her.
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise." Darian held up her hand, but Sophie shook her head.
"Pinkie Pie promise." I face-palmed.
Darian tried very hard not to let her smile falter. "Only if you do it with me," she sighed. I gaped. Darian actually knew that silly thing?
"Cross my heart and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye," they chorused, Darian speaking very quietly to avoid attracting attention. They rejoined hands and recommenced their waiting. I tried to attract Darian's attention, sick and tired of waiting somewhat quietly and impressed at how well she knew Sophie's childish interests.
"Darian? Darian?" I called. Darian acted as if she didn't hear. Sophie noticed, though.
"Jack's trying to get your attention," she informed Darian, tugging on the sleeve of her red coat. Darian gave a dry laugh but otherwise didn't respond.
"Hello? Anyone home?" I waved my hand in her face. Her lips tightened in a frown, and she closed her eyes. Okay, now I felt a little hurt. In case it hadn't been made clear, being treated like I was invisible was definitely not something I appreciated, especially not by Darian, whose belief was an amazing feat. (And, you know...stuff...again. I liked being with her, okay?)
I began poking her in the shoulder, knowing how invading her precious personal space was usually enough to get a reaction out of her. It worked, but she looked more like she was swatting away a fly. I rolled my eyes and poked her hard in the cheek. "Botherbotherbother..."
Darian huffed in frustration and let go of Sophie's hand to dig through her purse and retrieve her cellphone. She started typing something in it furiously, still not looking my way. "Hey! Quit it with the silent treatment! I get it! You're upset about the whole Pitch thing, but just stop ignoring me! I'm sorry, okay?" I burst out.
Darian finally looked up from her phone, holding it in such a way that I could read the screen. She had pulled up the Notes section and had quickly typed up something addressed to me.
Jack, unlike Sophie, I'd actually look kind of insane if I suddenly started talking to an "imaginary friend" around other people.
"Oh."
Darian's lip twitched in a half-smile, and she typed up something else.
Nice apology, though. Unfortunately, you're not getting off so easily.
I rolled my eyes at that, wondering when Darian had developed such a childish side before I realized that it had always subtly been there. She simply chose not to show it around people, and this made me wonder if she was finally warming up to me. The image of the two of us together in Darian's dream popped into my head. Did it actually mean something, like Pitch had concluded? After all, he would know more about dreams than I would.
Wait, when did I start listening to the bogeyman?
I shook away these thoughts as we approached the front of the line, never so glad in my long life that I was unable to blush visibly. I chose to land on a set piece next to Darian as she paid the photographer. Sophie skipped forward into the fake Santa's lap and started listing everything she wanted, and at one point, whispering something in his ear while pointing in Darian's general direction. Finally away from the crowded line for a moment, Darian leaned her head my way and spoke to me for the first time since we had arrived at the mall.
"How did you ever convince her to not throw a fit, knowing that this isn't the real Santa?" she asked. "Jamie and I were just wondering."
I shrugged. "Simple. I just told her that Santa has helpers all over the world. It's not a lie."
"Ah." Darian grew quiet again as Sophie ran back up to her, pulling her away so quickly that she hardly had time to retrieve the photo. "Okay, we don't have too much time before lunch, so don't wander off too far," Darian warned as we entered the toy store. She was completely ignored by both me and Sophie as we raced over to the bouncy balls and foam swords. I could practically hear her face-palm behind us.
Darian began perusing the shelves in another part of the store while Sophie and I began a game of Pirates. We used the bouncy balls as cannon-fire and took shelter in separate aisles. At one point, though, I became aware that fire on Sophie's side had ceased. Holding tight to my ball and sword, I peered around the corner to see where she had gone, only to be stabbed from behind. "Gotcha!" she squealed.
I staggered, preparing to give the best over-the-top death scene in history. Falling to my knees, I looked up towards the sky, or in this case, the tiled ceiling. "Why? Why? What a world! What a cruel, cruel world! Brought down by a mere child. I see...I see the light..." I screamed, shaking my fists in the air. Darian, startled by the outburst, poked her head around the corner and tried her hardest to keep a charade of annoyance, but like Sophie, she could not contain her laughter in the end. I finished off by clutching at my heart and stumbling backwards until finally, I collapsed on my back and released the bouncy ball as I "died."
Sophie chased the ball down another aisle while Darian approached me, snickering and gingerly nudging my elbow with her foot. I suddenly "rose from the dead" at that moment and grabbed her ankle. The squeal of surprise was certainly hilarious, but my prank was definitely not worth the reflexive kick in the face I received. I would never learn. The next minute or so was spent with me clutching my nose in pain while Darian whispered apologies behind her hand, glancing around for anyone who might have noticed her fuss.
"Pretty!" Sophie exclaimed a few aisles over, catching Darian's attention. We both wandered around until we found her staring at a lone box on an otherwise empty shelf, cleaned out by the Christmas rush. The box contained what looked like a porcelain doll with its golden hair in curls and wearing a frilly, pink dress, but its label claimed that it was durable enough for play. Darian brought it down so that Sophie could get a better look at its painted face, and she smiled, too, as enchanted by the doll as Sophie was. Darian handed the box to Sophie and snuck over to me while she gazed on.
Darian pulled out her phone and typed, wary of the other shoppers passing by.
Distract her.
I caught on immediately. "Hey, Soph! Wanna take a ride on that sparkly, pink bike over there?"
"I can't ride without training wheels."
"I'll teach you."
"Do you even know how to ride a bike?"
"No, but how hard can it be?"
I ushered Sophie away from the doll and a skeptical-looking Darian and to the few small bikes lined at the back of the store. "Like this?" Sophie asked, hauling herself onto a seat that was almost too high for her.
"Sure," I said, not really looking. I flew above the aisles and saw Darian in line for the cash register, doll in hand.
"Don't I need a helmet?"
"You're fine." I watched as Darian paid for the doll, double bagging it so that its label could not be seen.
"Jack, why can't I move?" I heard her kick futilely at the pedals.
"You need to lift the kickstand," I instructed absentmindedly, seeing Darian make her way back over to us with the gift. How expensive had that doll been? She cared so much for her younger cousin that she was willing to buy something like that for her. Beautiful, I thought again, seeing her smile down at the bag in her hand.
Meanwhile, somewhere below my cloud nine, the kickstand happened to be too low for Sophie to reach, so she hopped down from the seat while I was distracted (By what?), squeezed between the row of bikes to reach the kickstand, and lifted it by hand, obviously not considering how the bike would lose its balance without that support. "Ow!" she cried, finally gaining my attention. The bike had fallen on top of her. Darian happened to approach us at that exact moment, and the next few minutes were spent with Darian berating me through her phone and Sophie howling so loud that other parents came to assist an embarrassed Darian in fishing her out from under the bike.
I really hated shopping.
An ice cream treat and a Pinkie Pie promise to keep it a secret later, we were heading to the food court to meet back up with Jamie and the adults. The had already gotten everyone lunch, Aunt Ruth knowing exactly what Darian wanted. The tables weren't very large, so the adults sat at one table while Darian, Jamie, Sophie, and I took the designated "kids' table," far enough away from the adults that we could all talk without being noticed. The first few minutes passed in silence while Darian faced her paper plate, eating and thinking hard about something, for sure, and Sophie pushing around her chicken nuggets, not hungry after the ice cream.
Jamie turned to me. "How are you enjoying shopping?" he asked with a grin.
I glared. I was so going to get him back later. "Can I leave now?" I whined.
Darian shook her head and swallowed. "Nope. I've still got more torture in store for you."
I banged my head on the table. "Somebody kill me please."
Darian hummed a few random notes at that and returned to her food, picking around the larger bites. "Whatcha' singing?" I wondered, causing her to blush and choke, suddenly realizing what she was doing. Hey, if she was going to push my buttons, I was going to push hers.
"'Somebody Kill Me Please'," she answered shyly.
"Really? That's a song?"
Darian nodded. "It's from The Wedding Singer."
"How does it go?"
Darian's face only got redder. "I-I can't sing it."
Okay, I knew she had some sort of stage fright, but really? "Sure you can!"
Darian frowned, and she spoke low through her teeth so that I, sitting in the seat next to her, was the only one who could hear. "No, Jack. It's, ah, inappropriate." She gave pointed glances over to Jamie and Sophie. "If you want to hear it, I have it on my phone and-"
"Well, if it's inappropriate, why were you humming it?" I teased, much too loudly for her tastes. Jamie and Sophie were enjoying watching our argument.
"It just popped into my head," she hissed.
"And wait, why would you pay to download it on your phone?"
"Because I had to!" she replied in a venomous tone that warned me to quit before I received some form of injury. Usually, I ignored this tone, but I didn't feel like antagonizing her completely after being kicked and battered with pillows just this morning, and there was still a whole afternoon of torturous shopping ahead. Darian continued to explain. "My school was performing The Wedding Singer last year, so I downloaded the album."
She didn't say anything more, so I didn't ask anymore. I didn't ask why she grimaced at the mention of the performance. That didn't mean that I didn't want to know. Darian knew this, knew that I was too curious for my own good when it came to her, and she stood a second later to carry her still half-full plate to the trash can, probably seeking a moment or two without me, seeing as she was insistent on my annoying company for the day. Darian did not return to the "kid's table" for a long time, instead opting to speak with the adults about something.
Sophie's uneaten chicken nuggets had gone cold without my help before Darian came back. "Come on, Jack," she said simply.
"Wait, what?"
"I asked if I could shop by myself for a while. You're coming with me. I'm not through with you yet." Darian did not reach out and drag me, kicking and screaming, but she almost looked like she wanted to as I took my time getting up and complained as we walked away from the food court. Darian's smirk settled into her usual politely neutral smile for appearances' sake, and I ended up following her into the nearest clothing store.
If I had ever been mistaken in thinking her nothing but an average teenage girl (in my defense, she had displayed typical teenage girl moodiness, irrationality, and lack of belief when I had first met her), she gave no evidence of that now, completely absorbed in the obsession with shopping for clothing that tended to come with her age. She - figuratively, of course - dragged me around the junior section, studying tags for specific brands of clothes in her size. She even chanced a few comments my way, knowing that it wouldn't look weird to others that she was muttering to herself about compering two prints or the durability of a specific, expensive brand of jeans, though I had long since stopped listening to her at that point. Everyone around her was muttering something about the same thing.
A teenage girl in her natural habitat, I couldn't help but think.
The only thing odd I found during the whole event was that Darian actively avoided other girls her age, who wandered around in packs, giggling about some secret that nobody cared to know. I had come to terms with Darian's reticence, even finding my own way around it, but after watching her act so comfortably one minute, it was odd to see her shut down the next and hide her clothing choices when they passed as if she was ashamed of them. I had often noticed this behavior from her before, the best example being her sudden shyness when others noticed her beautiful singing.
Hiding, always hiding. What are you hiding?
I must have paused in my complaining for an unusual amount of time because Darian cleared her throat expectantly, looking at me through my reflection in a mirror so that it wouldn't loo like she was facing air. "What now?" I groaned.
Darian held up two dresses in the mirror that I paid so little attention to that they could have been the exact same dress as far as I was concerned. "Which one?" she inquired, holding each in front of her for a moment.
There were several answers that I could have given. For example: "I don't care. Can I leave now?" The was the one that I was most inclined to say. Another part of me, one that I hadn't noticed was there at first, tempted me to say, "You look beautiful in both." Instead of choosing one of these options, either one capable of earning me some sort of injury, I chose the safe response. I simply shrugged.
Unsatisfied, Darian pressed her lips into a thin line, folding both dresses over her arm. A second later, the corners of her lips twitched slightly upward into that sly smile that I still wasn't sure whether or not I liked on her - a gorgeous expression for her face to be in, but one that I knew only brought trouble, usually with me as the target. "Well, maybe I'll just have to try both on and see which one that I like better, taking into account the cut and the color, whether it works with my skin tone or not, and it definitely has to highlight my eyes. There's also shoes to consider. Do I have any at home that would work, or do I need to spend hours scouring the mall for the perfect pair?"
I pressed my hands against my ears, even though I hardly understood a word of her shopping babble. I knew that she was just joking, of course, but still... "Agh! Just stop! It burns!" I howled. Darian jumped back in surprise and looked around for others who might notice before she remembered that she was the only one in the store that could hear my noise.
She laughed, hanging both dresses on a nearby rack while I watched in dismay. "I'm just messing with you."
"I know that, but you weren't planning on buying them anyway?" I asked incredulously. Darian nodded. "So, you just ran around the store, boring me to tears for no reason at all?"
"I wouldn't say that I didn't have a reason." I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly at that. "I did come in her for something, though." She scurried over to the nightclothes section, plucking a gown off of the front rack and admiring it. It was cream in color with a lacy trim around the collar, sleeves, and hem. Darian nodded in approval and folded it over her arm.
"A nightgown? Why would you want that?" I wondered as we stepped into the outrageous checkout line. I would have groaned in annoyance, but I was too curious to be adequately bored in that moment. Darian fished for her phone and started typing again around all of the extra people.
My parents scrapbook everything, especially Christmas. It probably has to do with me being an only child and all. I don't know. I just don't want to be remembered looking like I just rolled out of bed.
I gestured to her chosen purchase. "Do you do this every year?"
Most.
I rolled my eyes. "Do you get up and do your makeup, too?"
Not sleeping has its advantages.
I decided to change the subject then. Simply not talking would be just too boring. "What do we do after this?"
I think you've had enough torture for one day.
"I'm off the hook?" If I left now, I could still make a quick trip to the Pole and back before sundown.
Darian shook her head slightly.
I actually need your help on something.
I didn't get the chance to ask what it was. A cashier called Darian forward, and within a minute, she had paid for the nightgown and was leading me out of the store. She walked a little ways with me hovering by her side before entering a book store. "I need a present for Jamie," she murmured, approaching a shelf that held various sketch pads and took a nice-looking one with a leather cover. She typed up an explanation.
I saw his drawings and thought that he might need a good place to put them, but I want to get him something else. Help?
I nodded and flew off down the aisles while she fingered the pages of the sketch pad, checking their thickness or something along those lines.
I had no idea what I was doing, scanning the shelves. I wasn't that I didn't know what Jamie would like. No, I just didn't quite understand the organization of the book store and was totally lost within minutes. It probably didn't help that my education was a little subpar, as I've mentioned before, and big words were just everywhere, so it was really just by chance that I happened upon exactly what I was looking for.
The bright cover caught my eye, and it helped that the book was to thick to fit correctly on the overly packed shelf it was on, forcing someone to place it leaning against the other books, facing the aisle. Seeing only the spine wouldn't have helped. The title was made up of long words, like it was there just to spite me. When I saw the infamous picture of Phil on the front, I knew that this was it. Jamie had a book just like this at his house, but it was smaller and for younger children, containing less information. I plucked the book from its shelf and snuck around the store to get back to Darian, avoiding people who might find the sight of a flying book strange.
Darian looked up when I approached, and I proudly handed her my find. She had to tuck the sketch pad under her arm and take the book with both hands because of its weight. Her eyes darted over the cover skeptically. "Jamie would want an encyclopedia of cryptozoology?"
Gah, big words!
I nodded, and she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You have to remember that this was the last kid in the world who believed in the Easter Bunny," I told her. Darian shrugged and nodded at my point, flipping the book to the back to check the price.
Darian was good at hiding things. What are you always hiding? I noticed, though, that she had three weak points. One: she couldn't help but blush at just about everything. It betrayed her emotions more often than not. Two: her eyes. They were too honest. Three: her mouth. On the rare occasions that I could get her rambling, she tended to say odd or personal things on accident, which, now that I thought about it, would explain why she preferred to keep her mouth shut.
What are you afraid to say?
Even now, the corner of her lip twitched in disapproval as she examined the price, but she looked back up at me and disguised it with a smile before heading to the cash register. I didn't follow, not feeling right about having her spend so much. She cared so much. Instead, I wandered into what I assumed was the aisle of children's books, finding some that were filled with strange but somewhat familiar pictures and graphs. Darian returned a moment later, almost having to literally drag me away from the books that I had begun skimming through with interest. I never even got the chance to check their titles.
Darian texted her parents and was told to meet them in a clothing store at the other end of the mall, which, due to some inconvenient construction, was in an entirely separate building. Darian headed outside to the sidewalk running around the back of the mall that was less busy so that we could actually talk.
"So, you're absolutely sure that Jamie will love the book?" she checked.
"Yeah, he has one similar to it, but smaller, fun-sized, I guess. Phil signed it."
"Phil?" She gave me a puzzled look, and I was about to explain when her eyes suddenly grew wide with recognition. "Oh, right! Phil's a Yeti."
"I'm guessing Jamie's explained a few things to you." She nodded. "He's really excited that you believe. He kind of looks up to you, you know."
"He shouldn't," she breathed, and I blinked a moment in confusion before I realized that I wasn't really supposed to hear that. I wanted to ask why more than anything, but I restrained myself. "Really? Me?" she asked in a louder voice that I was definitely supposed to hear.
"Yeah, he told me all about how you used to sing and tell stories when you were little." This struck some kind of nerve, I think. She stopped looking at me, seemingly aware of at least one of her weaknesses. I steered away from the past quickly, not wanting her to disappear, but what was she hiding? "He just really wants us to get along."
Darian gave a small laugh and blinked away whatever it was she was thinking. "I don't think he needs to worry too much about that. I mean, we get along, right?"
"Am I forgiven?" I tried.
"Yes, and thank you."
"For what?"
"For a lot of things, actually, Jamie's present being one of them," she answered. "And, you know, I'm still kind of mad about what you pulled last night, but I'm also kind of grateful that you were there to protect me."
"It's just what I do," I said nervously, unable to keep from remembering her dream. Did it mean anything, and did I care if it did? I looked at Darian, at the sweetness in her expression, admiring the beauty of it.
"You just, well, you stood up for me, and that means a lot." I could tell by her eyes that she meant it as she shyly looked up at me, but I could also tell that there was more, some hidden history, some hidden meaning behind the words. "Thanks." She moved towards me, as if to hug me, but she didn't in the end. It just wasn't her way to be so open. I wished that she had, but the meaning was there, all the same.
Why are you hiding?
I felt it before Darian jumped back in surprise, crying, "Oh, my goodness!" I felt the familiar twist in my chest that forcibly squeezed the breath from me. Darian and I had stopped walking while we talked, and the one impatient person behind us had caught up. Gasping, I turned just in time to see him rush through my body and continue down the sidewalk, glancing over his shoulder to shoot Darian a weirded out look at her outburst. She blushed and clapped a hand over her mouth until the stranger was gone.
"H-he just...Jeezum Crow, are you okay?" she stammered.
"Yeah," I replied breathlessly. "It happens all the time." Well, not all the time. I usually wasn't stupid enough to be so close to the ground around non-believers so that they could run through me, but I had been distracted. Distracted? Distracted by what?
Darian was still freaking out, as always. "What the heck?"
"It's what happens when people don't believe in me. They can't hear, see, or feel me. I'm fine, but it's not the most pleasant feeling in the world."
"Did I ever do that?" she asked worriedly. I shook my head, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but just to be sure that I was real, it seemed, Darian tentatively reached out and touched my hand, then clasped it to assure herself further, grinning. I smiled and squeezed her hand back, which of course, startled her enough that she withdrew it. Although the reaction could have been caused by pain, given that it was her right hand I had held, her blush betrayed the truth, even though she cradled her hand, trying to play it off as her bruise. She was a bad liar.
I humored her, anyway. "Sorry."
"No, no, it's fine," she mumbled. There was a short silence where neither of us knew what to say next. My hand still felt a little warm from her touch. "Do you show up in pictures?"
I laughed. "I'm not a vampire, you know."
Darian brightened. "You're free to go now, but could I get a picture with you first?"
"It's not like I'm leaving forever or anything."
"I know, but it's just going to be so busy for the next few days that I'm just worried that I might not get another chance."
I shrugged, and she took out her phone, turning so that she could get both of us in the shot. She had her sound turned off, so the picture was over before I knew it, and she pulled away too soon. "Wait! I think I blinked!" I teased.
Darian giggled, then shivered lightly from standing out in the cold. I considered it a miracle that she hadn't sneezed yet. "I should go. They're probably wondering where I am."
"See you tonight?"
"Yeah."
I flew off, going higher and higher but never high enough, I felt so great. My hand had gone cold without hers there with it, but I remembered the touch well enough.
Does she care? About me? I wondered.
Do I care?
I knew the answer to that one very well.
Yes.
Screw you, Pitch.
(Hey, look who's not dead! I've actually had this chapter ready to type up for a while now, but all the testing these past few weeks has really worn me out. The good news is that I'll be getting the next chapter to this up and ready soon, and school ends this week, which means more time for updates! Alright, back to the story. Yay for more Darian and Jack bonding time, even if it was a little forced, and aw, look. They held hands...for less than three seconds. Oh, well. Please review! I love hearing from everybody!)