The Price Guide to the Occult(12)
“But you’ve spent your whole life in Madge’s shop,” Savvy said cajolingly. “And you’re a Blackburn. Some of it must have rubbed off on you.” She hadn’t moved her hand. “Come on. Throw some of that old black magic my way.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nor saw the lines in Savvy’s palm begin to glow and flash. She tried not to notice the obvious break in Savvy’s heart line, quickly shut her eyes, and willed away the jumble of unbidden words that filled her head.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Savvy said. “But you’re wrong about no one coming to the island. I saw Reed Oliveira on my way back from school on the ferry last week.”
Nor’s eyes flew open, her pulse jumping like an electric spark. “But he — he left,” she stammered. “No one ever comes back to Anathema once they leave.”
Savvy shrugged. “Yeah, well, no one ever moves here, either, do they?” she said. She gave Nor a knowing look, and before Nor could think of a valid excuse to turn around, Savvy was dragging her down the street toward the Milk and Honey Spa, Reed Oliveira, and Nor’s certain humiliation.
On an island as small as Anathema, the arrival of new neighbors could cause quite a stir, especially when those new neighbors included two teenage boys like Reed and Grayson Oliveira. The first time Nor had seen Reed was also, incidentally, the first time Nor had attended the high school located on one of the larger islands. Though school had never been something at which Nor excelled, she’d allowed herself a brief moment of excitement as she walked down Meandering Lane, and she had even stopped at the Willowbark General Store before the forty-five-minute ferry ride to school.
One of the first structures ever built on the island, Willowbark was a small gray one-room building that sat alongside the ferry dock, and though the building had been rebuilt after the great fire, the original store sign still hung above the front door. The island was full of homegrown gardens of different varieties, and most households made their own bread and churned their own ice cream, butter, and cheese. Some harvested honey.
But Willowbark was the only place on the island that sold any kind of nonperishable item — laundry detergent, shampoo, boxed macaroni and cheese, and name-brand peanut butter. Willowbark was where the kids on the island bought king-size candy bars, cinnamon rolls delivered fresh from the Sweet and Savory Bakery, and cups of hot chocolate with mounds of chocolate whipped cream to sip on the ferry ride to school.
On that morning, the store’s few aisles had been filled with roaming bleary-eyed kids, the same ones Nor had gone to school with all her life, and all with their opinions about her: two pretty cheerleader types who’d never given someone like Nor a second thought, and, at the cash register, Catriona, who wasn’t nearly as pretty or as popular as she wanted to be. A few kids from the Coldwater family had been there as well. As usual, Nor made a point of avoiding Gage.
She’d ducked quietly out of the store, self-consciously tugging at the fingerless gloves Apothia had knit to cover the bandages on her wrists. They were wool and itched almost as much as the scabs underneath them. Nor had been silently lamenting Savvy’s proclivity for tardiness when she saw him: a strange new creature standing out on their little dock like some kind of miracle or myth.
Leaning against one of the railings, his long body propped up by sinewy muscled forearms, Reed Oliveira had given the impression that he couldn’t care less about being the new kid. But Nor had spent enough of her life attempting to draw as little attention to herself as possible, and she had become an expert observer by default.
Nor had heard that Reed’s dad had died suddenly just a few days after moving to Anathema Island. Losing a father was something with which Nor could empathize. She missed her father so much, just thinking about him could often bring tears to her eyes. Of course, the big difference between Nor and Reed was that Nor had never actually met her father. What would it be like, she’d wondered, to actually have a father, and then to lose him? She’d imagined that loss would be unbearable.
So, to her, Reed Oliveira had looked sad. Afraid. Most of all, he had looked lost, like a boat that had suddenly become untethered. Nor had known exactly what that felt like.
Nor still hadn’t spoken to Reed by the end of that first quarter. Not on the ferry on the way to school or when she’d passed him in the hallway. Her French class was the period directly after his, and sometimes they’d passed through the doorway at the same exact time, but Nor was just as invisible to him as to everyone else. And why shouldn’t she have been? She had made a point of being unnoticeable, hadn’t she?
And then.
It had been raining all week, a gray, blustery kind of miserable, and that morning was no exception. It was the day before winter break, and as was an unofficial tradition, most students had stayed home. The few who hadn’t skipped school boarded the ferry as usual.
Nor had headed straight for the concession stand, tempted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The line was already long, and as Nor had waited for her turn to order, she had tugged her thick scarf tighter around her neck and blown on her fingers in an attempt to warm them. Outside, the rain pounded against the windows as the ferry rocked across the churning water.
It was only when she finally got to the cash register that Nor had realized she was a couple of dollars short. Her face red, she’d mumbled an apology to the barista while hopelessly scouring the bottom of her bag for loose change. That was when Reed Oliveira had tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Let me get that for you.”