"What are you writing?" he asks me on Friday morning.
"A gentleman wouldn't ask and a lady wouldn't tell," I reply curtly. It's true, I have been writing a lot, but there's no good way to tell him that I have been documenting my memories in excruciating detail in case anything ever happened to them again. It would only make him worry about me, and I didn't want to have that conversation.
Instead of responding, he gets up and walks over to the bed, sitting down across from me. I pull my diary a little closer to me and keep writing until I finish my thought. "Can I help you with something?"
"I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" I ask, sitting up. "You mean, the thing you were looking into?"
"I can do it," he replies. "But the magics are very advanced and I simply wanted to make sure that we were both safe while engaging in-"
"Safe?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. "Is this a sex thing?"
"No," he sighs. "Tori, just, close your eyes."
"You're not making me feel any better that this isn't a sex thing," I murmur.
"It's not a surprise if I explain," he insists.
"Well, I hate surprises." I cross my arms over my chest. "Especially if it's not entirely safe or whatever. Explain." He hesitates. "I won't like it any less if you tell me what it is."
"Fair," he relents, but he suddenly seems nervous. "I thought you might like it if you could go back."
"Go back?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"Into your past," he repeats. "It's a form of astral projection where we can go back into your memories and re-visit them, so to speak. You would be in a state of consciousness, like lucid dreaming."
"So I would be reliving a memory," I say slowly. "But I would be like, aware of it? Like I would be acting it out?"
"Precisely," he replies. "It would basically be entering a reality based on your memory that corresponds to your decisions from within your memories."
I hesitate. "And why do I want to do this?"
"I thought it might help me get to know you better," he says. "To see what you were like before you came to Iris."
"I really wasn't all that special," I hesitate. "I don't know if I want to go back there. I don't know if I want to go back there for real."
"It's not for real," he says. "We'll be sitting in this room. We're just going back in your mind."
"I guess," I gulp. "It's not going to hurt or anything, right?"
"Doubtful," he replies, and I roll my eyes.
"Okay, so like, what are we going back to, exactly?" I ask. "Because it's not like I have anything to hide, but I don't think you want to watch me just sit around all day playing video games."
"That's up to you," he says. "You'll have to concentrate on your happiest memory, or one that stands out the most."
"But my life was boring and uneventful," I insist. "I don't have one that just sticks out."
"I guess we'll see where we land then," he says, putting his fingertips on either side of my head. "Now close your eyes and concentrate."
"Okay, but I don't think this is going to work." I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. Happy memories. Happy memories of before I was at Iris. I don't want to go back too far. I don't want him to see me as a little kid in cartoon pajamas. The memory of my parents and I on the beach was private, for my eyes only. So something from when I was older then. Before I came to Iris, maybe the year before I went to Iris-
I feel wind on my face as I open my eyes. I take the world in around me and gasp, putting my hands over my mouth. I spin around and look at Hieronymous. "We're here." For some reason, we are standing on the high school track at my old school. I can see the school building beyond the parking lot, I can see the old, rusting bleachers, the two sand pits for the long jump that had been there forever and the rough asphalt of the track.
I look down at myself. I am in my school colors, yellow and red, wearing really short red shorts with a yellow tank top that just barely reaches the hem of my shorts that has my school's name on it in bright red letters. My hair is pulled into a high ponytail and I grab one strand and look: I'm blonde again.
"Where are we?" he asks, puzzling at the surroundings.
"On my high school track," I tell him. "I think this is our first day of track practice, the year before I came to Iris."
He stops looking around to focus on me. "That's a new look for you," he says, and I immediately feel the need to cover myself.
"This is so weird," I whisper to him, but he taps on his forehead.
"No one else can see me but you," he says. "Anything you want to say to me, think it. Unless you want people to think you're talking to yourself, that is."
"People?" I ask.
"Tori!" I hear someone shout my name and I spin around suddenly, trying to suppress a gasp.
"Jessica?" She wraps her arms around me, and I hug her back, burying my face in her shoulder. Jessica is a little bit taller than me, long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes that accent her round face. She had been my best friend since second grade, and since we spent so much time together and looked so much alike, people sometimes assumed that we were twins.
"You're always the first one out here," she says teasingly as another girl comes up behind her. She's shorter, with dark brown curly hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head.
"Hey Vanessa." I'm about to hug her too, before I realize that I'm not typically a very huggy person.
"Hey," she replies casually. "Daniel was looking for you."
"Daniel?" Jessica looks at me, a gleam in her eye. "What for?"
"He borrowed my guitar over the summer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's nothing, he's just looking to give it back."
"Mmhmm," Jessica says, putting her hands on her hips.
"Daniel?" Vanessa asks. "Do you have a thing for Daniel?"
"I don't have a thing for Daniel," I tell her flatly. "Besides, Daniel is dating Becky Stevenson."
"Not since last month," Vanessa says. "I heard he was dating Diana what's-her-name?"
"No, she doesn't have a thing for Daniel," Jessica says, still looking at me. "Cause she has a thing for Professor Chapman."
"I do not," I exclaim.
"Oh, so you've always had a thing for your teachers?" Hieronymous' voice floats in my head and I blush scarlet but don't respond.
"She doesn't know, does she?" Vanessa asks, looking between me and Jessica.
"Know what?" I demand.
"That he's the new track coach now?" she asks, raising her eyebrows, and I spin from her to look at Jessica.
"Bryan is the new track coach?" I ask.
"Well, yeah," Jessica says. "I mean someone had to take over after-" she shifts. "-you know."
"Yeah," I say lamely, but the truth is that I don't know. I don't even remember. I'm just floored that I'm standing here, talking to Jessica, as if absolutely nothing had changed between us.
A few other girls come over to join us as we stretch before practice. I don't see Hieronymous around, but I figure he's probably watching from somewhere far off, or off exploring the grounds or something.
"Doesn't anyone around here wear any clothes?" Hieronymous asks with a sigh, and at the same time Jessica taps me.
"Your face is going to go red in about five seconds if you look up," Jessica whispers, and my eyes dart up to see Bryan Chapman, the new track coach, coming this way. He's wearing short red shorts as well and the same yellow tee shirt with the red school logo emblazoned on it, but it looks about a size too small and its pulling at the shoulders. I'm not the only one who's checking him out.
"Hey girls," he says.
There's a resounding chorus of sweet, girlish, "Hey Bryan" and I think I can almost hear Hieronymous roll his eyes. As he starts introducing himself as our new coach, his British accent starts to become more apparent.
"Oh, he's English," Hieronymous notes from somewhere in the back of my head. "So I'm the second English professor that you've had affections for? Is this a trend I should be aware of?"
You are enjoying this way too much, I think back. You're just jealous you can't wear shorts half as well as he can.
"Please," Hieronymous scoffs. "I have no desire to-"
"Come on," Jessica grabs my arm and pulls me towards the track. "Stop spacing out. I know he's hot but you're going to have a hard time keeping up this year if you don't pay attention."
"How many laps?" I ask quickly.
"Four times and over the fence," she says. "Easy first day." It's not so much as a fence as it is a gate that is sometimes left out over the track after people are done cleaning it. It's only about four feet tall, and so it's really easy to jump over, since there's no good way to run around it.
"Let's see you try to catch me this year," Jessica calls over her shoulder as she breaks into a sprint. The rest of the girls are jogging the first lap, warming up, but I tear after Jessica until we're almost a tenth of a mile ahead of the pack.
It feels good to run again, to stretch my legs, and I can easily see why this is the memory I've chosen to go back to. I've spent the entire week cooped up in Hieronymous' room and I'd been avoiding Sports Club because of the gym. I miss getting out and running and doing sports.
"Come on, Tori, you slowpoke," Jessica calls from ahead of me. I grit my teeth and run faster, although I can feel an unpleasant cramp in my side. My feet pounding against the asphalt, the wind in my hair, all these sensations were all too real. Even as I grab the fence in one hand and throw my legs over it, I can still feel the cool, rusted metal underneath my palm. I land roughly and continue to run, chasing after her. Nothing has changed; she's still faster than me.
"So this is your happiest memory?" Hieronymous asks me as I run, my arms pumping at my sides.
I don't know about happiest, I say back. Maybe the most normal? I don't know. I think I've just been cooped up for too long. I miss Sports Club. I miss running.
I keep going around the track, four times, until I collapse on the grass beside Jessica. My sides are aching, my lungs are burning, and I am totally and utterly exhausted. Am I really this out of shape or was I just out of shape that day?
"Good job," Jessica mutters lazily as she high fives me. I see a shadow fall over me and at first I think it's Hieronymous before I realize that it's Bryan Chapman.
"Really good work today, Tori," he says. His voice reminds me of Jason, and suddenly I have a bad taste in my mouth. "I really liked the way you went over that fence. Good job."
"Thank you," I mutter, still winded. He goes over to talk to someone else and Jessica turns to me.
"I especially liked the way you went over that fence," she repeats, mimicking his tone, and I roll my eyes, ripping up a handful of grass and throwing it at her.
We giggle and talk for a little bit, and for a moment I forget that this is just some hallucination that Hieronymous dragged us into. For a moment I can feel the sun of my face and the sweat on my skin and the soft tickle of grass under my legs and think that this is real.
"Hey," she says to me suddenly, shielding her eyes from the sun. "I think your parents are here."
"Huh?" I pull my legs into myself and sit up slightly, following her gaze. My parents are here, getting out of my dad's golden minivan. I tilt my head to the side as they get out and wait at the gate for me. It's weird, usually my dad works late, and I can't remember a time when my parents picked me up together. My mom waves at me, but my dad just turns away, his hands on his hips, and-
"No." I kick dirt up in a flurry, and Jessica turns around to look at me sharply. "I forgot something. In the school."
My legs are burning but I run as fast as I can towards the school, ducking inside through the girl's locker room. "Get me out of here, Hieronymous," I say as I exit the locker room and head out into the hall. Suddenly I can see Hieronymous; he's walking beside me.
"Tori, calm down, what's wrong?"
"I said get me out of here," I repeat. I can see people looking at me strangely, people with familiar faces, and I could probably remember their names if I tried to. I make a left at a staircase, and then walk through the library as fast as I can, ducking into a narrow hallway that held the janitor's office and their bathrooms. They weren't nice by any means, but they were private and that's what I needed right now.
"Get me out of here, Hieronymous," I yell. "End the spell, now."
"Tori-" he starts.
"This isn't real." My heart is beating too fast and I spot myself in the mirror, the tight yellow shirt, the blonde hair. It's wrong. It isn't me anymore, it's not who I am. Spurred by impulse, I take my fist and drive it through the mirror, punching the hard stone wall on the other side. "This isn't real," I scream again. My fist is hurting, my wrist is hurting, and it might even be broken. There's bits of glass shards in my skin and I try to heal myself, but it doesn't work. "Magic, I can't do magic." Of course I couldn't do magic; I hadn't gone to school to learn how to do spells yet.
"I need to get out," I yell. The pain in my wrist is reaching increasingly high levels and I don't know what to do but I just need to get out of here. "This isn't real-" I slip down onto my knees, cradling my wrist to my chest. I have no idea where Hieronymous is. Did he just leave me here? "This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real-"
"Tori, focus." I can't see him, but I can hear his voice. "Tori, I need you to calm down and focus."
I close my eyes and grab for the stone, but it's not there. I scratch at my skin, trying to find the stone. "It's not here, it's not here-"
"Tori, I need you to breathe, okay? Stop-"
I close my eyes and pretend I have the stone in my fist. I try to feel the pulse of his heartbeat, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and-
I can feel the stone in my fingertips and I grab it, squeezing it into my palm. "Hieronymous, bring me back."
"You're back," he says, and I open my eyes to see him sitting in front of me.
In a dash of panic, I throw myself off the bed and jump to my feet, rushing into the bathroom. Blue hair, my pajamas, I'm still me. I look down at my wrist. It's not hurt, it's not broken, there's no blood, or glass, it's fine. Everything's fine.
Hieronymous appears in the doorway, and I quickly hold up my hand and use push magic. He slides backwards a little ways on the carpet and I sigh. I have my magic. Everything's here. It was just a dream. An illusion. No harm done.
"Tori-"
"I said I didn't want to do that," I yell. I'm not crying, that must have only been in the hallucination, but my voice is still shaky with tears. "What did you learn from that? What was the point?"
"I just-" He shook his head. "I just thought since you couldn't go back for Spring Break, you could at least see it. Relive it. I know you wanted-"
"You don't know what I want," I yell at him. "How would you like it if I did that to you? Make you relive your past?"
"Your magic's not advanced enough," he says.
"Like that matters," I spit back. "You wouldn't let me in. You wouldn't-"
"Tori," he repeats, and I look at him. "What happened?"
"Did you see them?" I ask. "Did you see my parents?"
"At a distance, yes," he repeats, although he looks confused. "Didn't you want to see your parents?"
"Not like that," I say. "I-" I look at him. There's so much I haven't told him. There's so much I haven't told anyone, not just because it wasn't anyone's business, but because it didn't matter. It wasn't part of my life anymore.
I walk past him back into the bedroom and lay on the bed. "I'm sorry for freaking out," I say softly.
He sits down on the bed and lies down, facing opposite me. "I could have had you out of there immediately if you had just calmed down."
"Well," I shrug. "I guess now I'm kind of obligated to tell you, aren't I?"
"Tori-" he starts, but I just shake my head.
"It's weird telling you," I say. "I mean, yeah, you're my husband and everything but I've never told anyone this, none of my friends, no one. The reason my parents picked me up together that day was because they told me they were getting a divorce."
"I didn't know your parents were divorced," he says.
"They're not," I explain. "I mean-" I shift my eyes to the side and say it as fast as I can get it out. "My mom found out my dad was cheating on her with someone. Or multiple someone's. I don't know, they wouldn't tell me, I just heard some of the fighting." I hesitate. "A lot of the fighting. Anyway, the money was all tied up in the house and so they just stayed together after that. And they were always super nice to each other, at least in front of me." I cast my eyes down. "I think my mom only stayed with him because of me. But now that they've forgotten me, who knows? They can go on and live their separate lives. I don't know why, I guess I just, chose to kind of forget that."
I don't even realize that I have the stone clenched tightly in one fist. "I mean, it's better this way, right? That they've forgotten me? I guess it was selfish, trying to keep us all together. But they're not my parents anymore. I'm not their daughter anymore. Now I'm just some person." I shrug. I look at him, but he's watching me with such sad eyes that I have to look away. "I guess you have a similar relationship with your father, huh?"
"Sometimes I envy the choice you wildseeds get to make," he says. "To just make your parents forget you. If I could, I would make my father forget me in a heartbeat." I wait for him to go on. "He wanted to groom me, to be just like him, to take up the family seat in government, but I never wanted any of it." He hesitates. "It was Violet who told me that I didn't have to do it. It was Violet who told me I should get out of England and be my own person." He shakes his head. "And after what happened to her, I did. I cut off all contact with my father and came to America, finished school, and got a job teaching here. I never looked back."
"That's good," I say quietly. "That she was able to help you…you know."
His eyes look back up to meet mine. "You don't like it when I talk about her."
"No, it's not that," I say quietly. "No, she was a really important person in your life, and I just…"
"Tori-"
"Did you know Jessica died?" It was something I never planned on telling him, but I can't listen to him miss her. I can't listen to the hint of longing in his voice every time he says her name, I just can't.
"What?" His forehead creases in confusion. "The girl you just-?"
"We knew each other since second grade," I whisper, saying anything to stop me from thinking about Violet. "The first time I drank vodka was with her. We were twelve. Well, I was twelve, she was thirteen. She found her parents stash on the table and she talked me into trying it with her when her parents were out. A few hours later they came back to us throwing up all over their living room. We were grounded for a month."
"The Christmas before I went away to school is the last time we hung out. We actually didn't really hang out much before that, because she got a boyfriend and she was spending all her time with him. But, yeah. It was during Christmas break and we were off from school. My parents got a phone call that she had gotten into a car with someone she shouldn't have after New Year's and they crashed the car and she….died."
He frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him. "I can't imagine how you felt about losing Violet, but I can sort of relate. I miss Jessica too sometimes. Like, we grew up together and I'll just be walking to class and sometimes I'll think of something funny that I'll want to tell her, but I can't. Cause she's not there anymore, so for me, it's just easier to pretend that she wasn't real. Like she was someone I just made up. And then it doesn't really hurt anymore. So I guess that's why I picked that memory to go back to. It was just a nice, normal day hanging out with her, like we always did."
He doesn't say anything, so I keep going. "So maybe I can't understand exactly, but I can understand the feeling of leaving your home and never wanting to go back, because I don't want to go back either. I mean, it's hard to face the fact that part of the reason I didn't want to let my parents go was because I didn't want to face the fact that they'll probably be happier people separate than together. And now my best friend's gone and my parents are gone and I can't get them back even if I wanted to, but for some reason I don't. I don't want to. There's nothing left for me there, and sometimes I'm upset with myself that I don't feel worse about just putting it all behind me."
I shake my head. "I don't know if I have any real friends here, but I have magic, and I have you, and that's enough. I have all I want right here."
He closes the gap between us, kissing me softly, gently, and I kiss him back.
"I know you want to look ahead and erase your past," he says softly. "But you can't do that. You're right, you can never go back there, and the people you cared about are gone, but you can't close yourself off to how you feel about it and pretend it didn't happen."
"Is that what you were trying to do today?" I ask softly. "To get me to open up about my past?"
He shrugs. "You seemed to be struggling with figuring out how much you've changed. I just figured this was the best way to show you that you haven't changed at all."
I force a smile to my lips. "Stop knowing me so well. It's creepy. It's like you get inside my head sometimes."
"I'm not the only one," he says. "Do you remember what you said to me? About Violet? That even if I loved you, I would never forget her. It's like you saw right through me and what I was afraid of."
"Oh," I say softly. I do remember saying that, but I'm not sure what else there is for me to say.
"Do you remember what you said after that?" he asks.
I take a deep breath. I don't like this conversation at all, but I repeat what I had said regardless. "I wouldn't want you to."
"That was you right there," he says quietly. "I know that wasn't easy for you to say then, or now, but that was you, giving me your kindness and your courage. It's what made me fall in love with you."
I open my mouth but no words come out, and so I let him keep talking. "You are rash, and impulsive, and childish, and frustrating, and you never seem to know when to stop talking. But underneath it all, you care, Tori. And I can see it. And your friends can see it. You are strong and you are selfless and you are brave and you are scared, just like me, but you never let it stop you. And that is why I love you."
"Kiss me," I say urgently, and he grabs me around the back of the neck and kisses me, pulling me close to him. I curl my legs between his and kiss him back, running one hand along his side, and one hand tangling in his hair. He wraps both of his arms around me, squeezing me to him, and I break the kiss to cuddle into his neck.
"Am I going to have to make a speech about all the reasons I love you?" I ask quietly. "Because I don't think I can top that."
"I watched you almost give your life for me," he says, running his hands through my hair. "I think that topped it."
"You don't need to say it every day," I tell him after a minute. "Just when you really, really mean it."
He kisses my temple. "What if I want you to hear it every day?"
I roll over onto my side so I can see his face. "Do you want to hear it every day?"
He cocks his head to the side as if he's thinking about it. "Could be nice."
"Hieronymous," I say softly. "I love you."
It takes a moment before we both burst out laughing. It sounds ridiculously forced and not authentic at all, but he still knows that I mean it. "Stop talking and kiss me," he says, and I gladly cover his mouth with my own.