What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(14)

“Hey, Nia,” I call out cheerfully, “you wanna play outside after dinner?” I start imagining all the things I can show her in the backyard, since she ain’t been out there yet. I bet she’ll like the flowers best, and this time, I won’t throw ’em away after I pick ’em.

“Yeah!” Nia replies enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. My smile slowly starts to fade as Nia turns to face me. “And you wanna braid each other’s hair after, and be bosom buddies like Anne and Diana from your book?” Nia is using the same fake voice on me that she was just using on Granddaddy, and even worse, I almost believed it. Nia rolls her eyes before turning back to the stove to stir the chili.

Before Lansing, I made the mistake of telling Nia bout my favorite scene in my favorite book, when Anne meets her best friend, Diana. Anne knows they will be best friends soon as they meet, and I told Nia bout it to make her feel better when we had to move out of our house and she was worried she wouldn’t make any new friends. “Don’t worry,” I said that day, “Anne thought she wouldn’t make friends, either, but then she found Diana and they were bosom buddies right away, like that.” I snapped my fingers proudly, even though Nia was barely paying attention, like always.

“We could never be like Anne and Diana,” I say now, crossing my arms on the table and laying my head down into my elbows.

“Let me guess,” Nia retorts, “because we don’t have a gable?” She snickers quietly, I guess reluctant to have Granddaddy hear us fighting again—which would surely mean more cleaning. At least we agree on something, cause I also don’t want nothin’ to do with Granddaddy now. Far as I’m concerned, I don’t need Nia or Granddaddy. I don’t need nobody.

“No,” I finally respond, “we can’t be like them cause I hate you, and Anne don’t hate nobody.” I stand up and start walking back to the room. “Plus,” I whisper, being sure Granddaddy can’t hear, “Diana ain’t a bitch like you.” I catch Nia’s surprised gaze just long enough to wink at her, then flounce away.



* * *





For the next few days, Granddaddy and Nia don’t talk much, so I don’t talk much. We tiptoe around the little house like strangers, staying quiet and out of each other’s way. And for once, I don’t even care. I spend most of my time outside, where I can be alone. At some point, I even stopped wanting to talk to Momma, once I remembered how sad she’s been lately. The only person I wish I could talk to is Daddy, and he’s dead. Far as I care, everybody else could just be dead now, too. Starting with Nia and Granddaddy.

What finally brings me and Granddaddy together are the fireflies. On a night quiet like whispers, I lay cross the front porch reading. Nia sits on the steps, flipping through one of her grown-up magazines that she started reading last year when she left middle school for high school. A girl dressed in a bikini laughs from the cover. The one time I snuck a peek inside, I saw a quiz with the title, “Are You a Secret Bitch?” I quickly put the magazine back on Nia’s desk, cause back then, I ain’t wanna know the answer to that question. I smile to myself at the thought of using that word on Nia the other day. Guess her magazines ain’t so worthless, after all.

Granddaddy sits in his rocking chair as usual, humming a song I never heard. I peek up at him from my book and he winks before going back to humming, a little louder. I smile, then settle back into the comfort of his voice, the comfort of the moment.

“Look,” Granddaddy whispers after a while, breaking the reverie, “you girls see that?”

Nia pops her head up, so I pop my head up. And what I see is that the whole field that used to be dark is now sprinkled with light, like flames dancing a wild routine. Nia looks for only a second, then goes back to her magazine. But not me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Fireflies,” Granddaddy whispers. “I ain’t ever seen so many all at once.”

It surprises me that something so small can create something so big. Every time I think I see one, know exactly where it is, the light goes out. And by the time the light comes back, it’s somewhere completely different, so that the fireflies dance and disappear right before my eyes. Granddaddy says some people call ’em lightning bugs, but fireflies sounds more magical to me. My palms itch as I think bout catching one of ’em. I wanna learn the secret of their light.

I run out into the field, clasping my hands around pockets of air that once were a firefly’s hiding spot. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t catch a single bug. Seems like soon as I spot one, it magically disappears. I wonder what the trick is, the secret that these little bugs keep as they disappear into the dark. I run and trip through the chilly night air, waving my arms wildly. No matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out their secret. I hear a chuckle behind me and turn to find Granddaddy standing there, a broad smile planted on his cracked face. The first smile he ever gave me.

“Slow down,” he says softly.

He takes my small hands in his giant ones and slowly leads me toward a patch of light. With a silent flick of his wrist he uses my hands to circle a firefly, just before it escapes to the wind. I open my cupped hands careful, like I’m pulling a bow from one of them perfectly wrapped presents I get at church on Easter Sunday, then smile at the gift of light crawling between my thumb and forefinger. The firefly came to me. Just like that, I had the secret right in my hands, and suddenly, it ain’t seem so hard to catch. I look back to thank Granddaddy, but he’s already started his slow retreat to the leaning porch.