A Pocketful of Miracles
By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall
Chapter Ten
Darien leaned against the building's stone façade, staring up at the crisp sky, gorgeous blue, a few pale gray clouds lingering above the city streets. The sun was setting. The dusk was growing cold, finally beginning to feel like winter, to the point where his breath was dissipating in little puffs of steam.
His thoughts were a mess. They were comprised of an eclectic, rambling conversation, snippets of emotions, flashes of memory, little reminders ringing off in his head like a persistent alarm clock. Tomorrow is Christmas. Andrew's party begins in less than an hour. I'm supposed to go back to the mall and get a present for Serena.
Serena likes me.
No. That can't be right. Serena hates me.
Mina and Lita were mistaken. Or confused. Or maybe a little insane. All possibilities were more believable than Serena having a crush on him, which was . . . was . . .
He shut his eyes and stretched his thoughts back to every memory he could piece together. Had she dropped any hints? Had she given any clues? A little smile here, a hint of a blush there, disappointed tears in her eyes, hidden meanings in her words—anything? He couldn't think. Couldn't remember. He'd always been so certain of their standing.
Tease, mock, laugh. Thrust, parry, dodge. An ongoing battle. Enemies to the last. How could he have been wrong?
More importantly, how could he have been so stupid to promise Mina he would give Serena the gift she suggested? Namely, himself. He'd promised. He didn't like to go back on his word. He'd been willing to get her an elephant, for heaven's sake. But he couldn't give Serena what she wanted if she wanted him. He didn't even know what that meant. Did Mina expect him to ask Serena on a date? To be her boyfriend? To give her a kiss under mistletoe?
The thought brought on the one flicker of emotion he was trying his best to suppress. Something that had stirred in him when he'd seen her in the florist, clutching that bunch of mistletoe, staring dreamily into space with slightly puckered lips. Dreaming of Andrew? Or . . . ?
His heart pitter-pattered. He licked his lips, then started upon realizing he'd done so.
"Stupid!" He smacked his head back against the wall, flinching as pain burst at the back of his skull. He cursed and rubbed at his scalp—but at least it distracted him from the very uncomfortable, unreal, unwanted fantasy.
"Darien?"
Squinting one eye open, he saw Amy standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself to ward off the approaching chill. He grunted a greeting.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Giving myself a concussion." He dropped his gaze to the sidewalk and waited for her to ask what was wrong, why he was standing alone on Christmas Eve mere feet away from the arcade's comforts, why he was beating his head against a building.
She didn't. Instead, after a beat of silence, she said, "I see," and moved to skirt around him.
Brow furrowing, he looked up at her retreating back. "Amy? Are you all right?"
She stalled and slowly pivoted on her feet. Her gaze was low and he noticed a redness on her cheeks that didn't seem to be from the wind. He wondered if she'd been crying . . . which was about the time he recalled the mystery boy.
He watched her inhale a deep breath before meeting his gaze and trying to smile. Not really trying though. "I'm not accustomed to feeling stupid," she said, "but at this moment I feel purely idiotic."
He wanted to say, Ho boy, do I know what you mean. He wanted to say, Let me tell you a little something about idiocy. He really wanted to say, Not to change the subject, but you wouldn't happen to know anything about Serena's alleged crush on me, would you?
He swallowed his wants, tried to look as sympathetic as possible, and quietly asked, "What happened with the boy?"
Amy's shoulders slumped immediately and she came to stand beside him, pressing her back into the stone wall. "We were going to go to the library together, but before we got there, I . . . panicked. And left. And now I'm here and he's . . . not."
She shivered and tightened her arms around herself. Darien wished he had a jacket to give her, but he'd left it inside.
"You panicked?"
"Yes. I don't know how else to describe it."
He watched her keen blue eyes focusing on passersby as they breezed along the sidewalk, until he noticed a shimmering. She blinked the tear away, but already feeling guilty for having seen it, Darien dropped his gaze.
"I really liked him," she said, so quietly he barely heard. "And I think he really liked me. He was . . . interesting. And smart. And . . ."
"Gorgeous?"
He saw her whip her head around to look at him.
"Lita's word, not mine."
After a moment, Amy turned away again and pressed herself further into the wall, as if trying to melt into the stone. "But what's the point of really like somebody if they're only going to leave? He lives so far away. We'll probably never see each other again, so why even bother getting to know each other? Why bother liking each other when it will only hurt that much more in the end? It doesn't make sense, does it?"
"I-I don't know."
"Of course it doesn't make sense. It's completely irrational, which is why it was a good thing for me to walk away. It was smart to break it off early. It was the right thing to do."
He felt her growing tense beside him, shoulder bunching up with all her rationalizations.
"But?" he prompted.
"But . . . but." She sighed. "But it's only been ten minutes and I miss him." Groaning, she pushed herself away from the wall, arms flinging out to the side as she spun to face Darien. "Which only proves my point. If I can't stand to be parted for a few minutes, how would I ever survive a long-distance relationship?"
Darien waited for her to keep talking, for her to answer her own question, but as he stared into her eyes, staring right back at him, he jolted with the realization that she was actually waiting for an answer.
He cleared his throat and nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, um, you're right. Clearly."
"I know I'm right. It would be a huge mistake to spend any more time with him."
"Although . . ." Darien thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Not that I have any experience with these things, and I'm sure long-distance relationships are really hard, but . . . at least if you're in a long-distance relationship you know that you'll eventually see them again. Unlike right now, when you're missing him because you're convinced you'll never see him again. It just seems like it would be different. I guess. But I don't really know."
Her gaze grew intense as she considered his words. He could see her imagination churning, trying to imagine what it would be like to be missing that boy right now, but also knowing that she would still see him again. Eventually. Her eyes softened as she let her stare drift to the blank wall over Darien's shoulders.
He saw her gulp. He saw her jaw tremble before she forced it still. "I am such an idiot," she whispered.
"Oh, no. Amy, I'm sure you were right before. You did the best thing, for both of you. With all that uncertainty, all the irrationality . . . who wouldn't panic?"
"Mina would say that the uncertainties and the irrationalities are the best part of falling in love." Her eyes snapped back to Darien. "Not that I'm in love with him!"
"Of course not."
"Because I just met him. Today. A few hours ago."
"Right. I know."
"And a person doesn't fall in love that fast. It isn't ration—possible."
Darien squeezed his mouth shut, realizing that no matter how much he agreed with her, she was still going to go on trying to convince him.
"I guess it doesn't matter now, though. I ran away from him. I messed things up. But . . . yes. I'm sure it was for the best. It would have taken a miracle to keep us together, in the long run. Yes. Much better to—"
Darien cursed, pushing himself from the wall. The mention of miracles had reminded him of the very important mission he had thus far failed to complete. Amy blinked up at him. "Sorry, I just remembered, I was supposed to go back to the mall. Andrew asked me to get a gift. For the party tonight. For . . . Serena." The name felt peculiar, as if it were the first time he'd ever said it.
Before Mina's declaration, she'd always been Meatball Head. Now, she was . . . Serena.
"Oh. Yes, it is getting late."
Darien squinted up at the sky again, growing darker by the second. "The problem is, I still don't know what I'm going to get her."
Amy followed his look, craning her neck back. "Too bad you can't make it snow. She's been so disappointed with all these weather reports."
Darien grunted. "Yeah, that one already crossed my mind." He peered at Amy through the corner of his eye, wondering if she would dare to make such a brazen suggestion as Mina had, if she would even hint at Serena's alleged feelings. But there was no suggestion, no hint. Amy was a much better secret keeper.
They said goodbye and went separate ways, Amy seeking warmth and friendship in the arcade, Darien heading back to the mall. This time he took the bus, more concerned with time as Christmas Eve crawled toward evening.
The ride went by in a blur as he stood with his hand on the railing over his head, staring past the other passengers and toward the darkening streets. Lights of all colors flickered on the storefronts, trees wrapped in big red ribbons, wreaths bedecking all the doors. They passed a group of carolers on a corner, and for a moment Darien felt that tinge of merriment he'd sensed earlier that day.
A feeling of Christmas joy.
A feeling of goodwill to all.
A sense that a miracle could happen at any moment.
He tried to shake the feeling away, but it wouldn't leave, despite the turmoil that persisted in his thoughts. He still did not know what he was going to do about Serena. He would buy her a potted plant, he supposed, and figure out how to handle Mina's declaration later.
Of course, he told himself that he wouldn't do anything with the newfound information. He couldn't tease her about it, he knew that much. He wouldn't destroy Mina's and Lita's trust in him by blabbing about it, either. Serena never had to know that he knew. He would just go on like nothing had happened and eventually Serena would get over her silly crush and that would be that.
Making that decision had the uncanny effect of making Darien feel even more uncertain about it all.
Uncertain and irrational. The best parts of falling in love.
He shook the thought away as the bus stopped right in front of the mall. He exited along with half the riders—what was it with people procrastinating during this season?—and took a moment to steal himself before entering the shopping metropolis. He made a mental map of the mall, trying to recall where that florist had been and what the most direct route would be.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched toward the giant glass doors.
"Mom, look! This marble is stuck to me!"
Fear tingling along his spin, Darien spun toward the voice and spotted a little girl in a plaid dress ferociously shaking her hand. A foggy white glass ball was stuck to her fingers, as if superglued in place.
"Where did you get that?" her mother asked, kneeling before her and examining the ball. A gentle tug proved that the ball was immoveable. Darien felt his stomach sink, recalling Andrew's warnings about demon-possessed marbles attacking Raye or whatever it was he'd been rambling about.
"I found it by the carousel. It was following me."
"Sweetie, what did I tell you about picking things up off the ground? You don't know where this thing has—"
Darien ran forward and snatched the miracle away. It unglued itself promptly from the girl's fingertips. "Thank you!" he said, louder than was necessary. "I, uh . . . I lost this, back in the mall, and I've been looking all over for it. It means a lot to me. Very, uh, sentimental . . . uh, thanks again!" He backed away, grinning like a maniac and keeping the miracle firmly cupped between both palms, not allowing it a hint of freedom.
Before the girl or her mother could protest, he turned back toward the mall, heart beating horrifically fast. The miracle seemed to be growing warm, warmer than mere glass should.
Maybe Andrew was right. Maybe these things were evil.
But now he didn't know what to do with it. He looked around for someplace safe to stash it. A garbage can? But it would probably get broken in there, and Darien did not want to find out what other "miracles" this thing might have in store, after witnessing Serena's near-death experience.
The miracle, though, didn't give him a chance to decide. As he desperately scanned the planter boxes and storefronts for a safe hiding spot, the miracle managed to pry its way out of his grip and throw itself toward the doors.
Darien yelled and lunged for it. Life returned to slow-motion for the second time that day, as he reached for the little glass ball, watched it slip through his fingers and sink slowly, slowly toward the pavement.
Heart in throat, Darien fell to his knees, hand outstretched in vain, as glass collided with concrete.
Clink. Clinkity clink clink.
Mouth agape, Darien stared at the little glass ball that did not break. Gradually the world began to turn again, life returning to the shoppers all ignorant of the crazy guy on his knees, watching as his marble rolled away from him.
He was too stunned to move. Too disbelieving. Too suspicious—how could that tiny, fragile little ball not have broken?
It rolled and rolled and rolled on a direct path toward the mall's entrance. No one else noticed it. No one else cared.
Darien was just finding his breath again when he saw the yellow galoshes in the haze of his vision. He followed the boots up the legs, past the fluffy heavy coat, up to the cheery face of an angel as she bobbed out of the mall doors, shopping bags in one hand, ice cream cone in the other.
His gaze traced all the way back down to the galoshes and the little rolling ball, the galoshes, the ball, the galoshes—
"Serena! Look where you're—"
Her foot landed square on the miracle. It whisked out from under her, pulling her foot along with it. She screamed, toppled backward, dropped both the bags and the ice cream.
The glass ball shattered, releasing a tiny puff of smoke that nobody noticed.
"Serena!" He launched himself toward her, the world spinning around them as he knelt at her side. He reached for her face, gently lifting her head off the pavement. "Serena, look at me. Are you all right?"
She groaned, her pink face squinting against the pain, and peered up through her lashes. "Wha—Dar—?"
"Hold still," he ordered, feeling around the back of her head for signs of blood, but his hand came away dry. "You might have a concussion. We should get you to a hospital. We should—"
"Darien." His name was barely whispered, and yet the urgency in her breathless tone made him pause. Her eyes, wide and glittering, were turned to the sky. "It's snowing."
"Oh lord," he murmured as a shiver cursed through him. "You're having hallucinations."
"No. Look," she said, lips curving upward in childish delight.
A tiny feather of a snowflake landed on Serena's nose. She crossed her eyes to look at it even as it melted from the heat of her skin.
Mouth running dry, Darien peeled his eyes from her and looked.