Indelible. Dawn Metcalf

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СКАЧАТЬ and clean, her feet kicking out to complete their arc like a gentleman’s bow. She sank her weight into her knees and locked the pose, slowly becoming aware of her own body’s sudden stillness. She lifted her lashes like waking from a dream.

      Joy looked up into all-black eyes.

      Ink flinched, surprised.

      He’d been staring at her while leaning against a fence post, startled at being caught. And he had been staring at her—again—just as he had that night at the Carousel. But this time his face wore an odd expression of awe and pride and disbelief. Joy could feel herself blushing. For a long moment, they stayed that way, Ink hovering by the fence post and Joy posed in the grass. It was as if an entire conversation was happening between them without words, him asking, “Who is Joy Malone?” and her wanting to know more about the mysterious Indelible Ink.

      “Are you done?” Monica called from the car. Joy’s head snapped around so fast, she felt a crick in her neck. She glanced back. He was still there. Dimples framed his smile. Monica couldn’t see him and Ink kept looking at Joy as if he were about to say something, but no words came. He just stood there, watching, smiling at her.

      “Yeah,” Joy said, keeping Ink on the edge of her sight. “Yeah, I’m good.”

      Joy felt his eyes on her as she marched past him, launching herself over the rail in a showy front hand tuck. Her feet landed together with a satisfying crunch. Behind her, three words followed with crisp clarity:

      “Yes. You are.”

      Joy smiled to herself, but didn’t turn around.

      Monica switched off her phone as Joy hopped into the car, sweaty and spent. She grinned, exhausted, as she pulled on her seat belt. She no longer saw Ink in the side mirror, but then again, he might still be there.

      “Girl,” Monica drawled. “We have got to get you a boyfriend.”

      * * *

      Joy worried her dad would guess that something was up, and if he did, she was totally doomed. She popped with unspent energy. She couldn’t sit still. She squirmed through their late dinner, trying to stay quiet through the scrape and clink of silverware and polite requests like “Pass the salt?” Joy was overly conscious about making too much noise. Their house had succumbed to a sort of mausoleum hush over the past year as the dinner table grew smaller and smaller. But now she wanted to shout and laugh and scream—she hadn’t felt that way for months and it was incredibly awkward tamping it down now.

      Placing the leftovers in the fridge, her dad groaned. “We’re out of milk.”

      “I’ll get it!” Joy said, jumping to her feet.

      “Never mind. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

      “No, really,” she said. “I could use the walk.”

      Her father closed the fridge and frowned. She’d pushed too hard, sounded too eager. When had she ever volunteered to buy late-night groceries?

      “Oh? Care to tell me anything?” he asked.

      Nnnnnno. She switched to the old fail-safe.

      “Just that time of the month,” she said. “Biochemical warfare and all that. I’d like to get some chocolate at the C&P while I’m there.”

      Dad hesitated, then fished out a ten. The mention of anything “womanly” made him fidget. “Fine,” he said. “Remember—milk and chocolate, not just milk chocolate, understand?”

      “Yes,” she said and gratefully snatched the bill and her keys in one hand while she shrugged on her jacket. “Be right back,” she called over her shoulder and bolted down the stairs, flying across the courtyard and out into the cool night air.

      The walk to the convenience mart wasn’t exactly convenient, but it was well lit and paved and gave Joy some precious room to breathe. She knew she had been expecting creatures at the window, scrapings at the door, mysterious notes under her pillow or in her locker or in her shoes, but it hadn’t happened since she’d gone out with Ink and being outdoors after Abbot’s Field, she felt better and less vulnerable than she had in a long while. She skipped down the sidewalk. Freedom felt good!

      Pushing open the door at the C&P, the electronic bell buzzed its two-tone hello. No one was there save the store manager, a man of unknown ethnicity and uncertain age, who was busy shelving cigarettes.

      “Hello, Joy.”

      “Hi, Mr. Vinh.”

      Joy grabbed a gallon of milk out of the refrigerated compartment, two chocolate bars and some sugarless gum. She plunked them on the counter and watched him stack the menthols as she dug out the ten.

      “No smoking, right?” he asked.

      Joy shook her head. “Bad habit.”

      “Underage,” he said as he rang up her total and began to count change. “I noticed the gum. Not many kids chew gum nowadays unless they quit smoking. Chocolate, yes, candy, yes.” He smiled. “Not so much gum.”

      “It’s a nervous habit,” Joy said.

      “Too many habits,” he chided. “You’re young. Relax.”

      Joy pocketed the candy bars and change and hefted the milk. “Not many kids relax nowadays, either,” she said with a wry smile. “Have a nice night.”

      “You, too, busy kid. You, too.”

      Shouldering open the door with its two-tone goodbye, Joy backed out into the night. The air was cool and the sidewalk looked surreal in low-glow orange, flecks of mica winking like stars in the concrete. It looked almost magical. Joy stepped on the constellations, lost in thought. It was tough to know what to think of a world that held black-eyed time travelers and $3.19 milk.

      A rising prickle on the back of her neck should have been from a cold breeze, but the air was eerily still. Her eye snagged something white wafting by. Flash! Flash! She watched the wisp of motion. A silvery sort of light danced on the edge of her already-altered vision, slipping like steam off a storm drain, playing a sinister tag with her nerves. Joy swallowed and kept walking, trying not to quicken her step. Acting afraid only made you look weak. Girls’ Self-Defense 101: walk confidently, head held high. And carry your keys. Joy fitted hers between the first two knuckles of her right hand and tightened her grip on the jug of milk.

      A distant roar, like angry whispers down a long tunnel, echoed in her ears. She turned to look. Her footsteps faltered, a misstep on the edge of the pavement. The milk’s weight sloshed, pulling her off-balance. The vapor circled her, like a shark on TV. Girls’ Self-Defense 102: trust your gut.

      Her gut said, Run!

      The milk was heavy. Should she drop it?

      She shouldn’t have hesitated.

      The shriek was feral and high-pitched. Joy spun as the colorless film rushed toward her wearing a woman’s face, hair snaking out in a veil and fingers outstretched for Joy’s throat.

      Joy ducked, covering her head with one hand, scratching her own cheek with her keys as the thing swooped by. A strange numbness spread over her shoulders СКАЧАТЬ