Blue Moon (5 page)

She felt herself slipping into the semitrance state that often accompanied meditations. The room was

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warm, and she felt secure and happy. It was easy for her to let go. Then, suddenly, in her mind Annie

thought she heard a voice speaking. It was gentle yet firm.

“I am here,” the voice said. “What would you ask of me?”

Was it Freya speaking to her? Annie figured it was just her imagination. But it didn’t matter. She knew

that the most powerful part of any ritual or meditation wasn’t what was real or not real but what the

person doing the ritual wanted to achieve and what he or she got out of it.

“Welcome,” Annie said to Freya.

“What do you need of me?” asked the goddess.

“I would like you to stay with me,” said Annie, still talking out loud even though she knew the meditation

was all in her mind. Somehow really speaking the words made it all seem more real to her. “I would like

to learn more about you, and I would like to experience your gifts.”

“What gifts might these be?” Freya asked her.

Annie had to think for a moment. She really hadn’t had anything specific in mind. But now that the

goddess had asked her, she found that there was something she wanted.

“I would like to have your gift of beauty,” she said, surprising herself. But the more she thought about it

the more she realized that she was speaking the truth. She was tired of being the one people looked right

through. She wanted them to notice her for a change. Kate and Cooper got noticed, so why shouldn’t

she?

“Yes,” she said again. “I would like to have some of your beauty and grace.”

In her mind she heard the goddess laugh. It was a beautiful laugh, filled with light and love. It was exactly

what she wished her own laugh sounded like, instead of the raucous giggles that usually tumbled out of

her mouth when she thought something was funny.

“Very well,” Freya said. “I will come to you for a time.”

Annie smiled. She really felt like she was talking to the goddess. She could still see her in her mind, and

her voice seemed clear, as if they were standing next to each other. She wanted to hold out her arms and

embrace Freya like a friend.

And that’s exactly what happened. She saw the goddess spread her arms and step forward, and the

next thing she knew she was surrounded by the scent of flowers, vanilla, and cinnamon. She felt Freya’s

arms encircle her, pulling her close. Then it was almost as if the goddess passed into her. Annie was filled

with a warmth, a contentment like she’d never experienced. Her whole body seemed to overflow with

joy and happiness.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, just to prove to herself that she was awake and not

dreaming. The entire meditation had seemed so alive that she was almost surprised to find herself still

seated in the circle of roses and bathed in candlelight.

Had she done the ritual correctly? She couldn’t really tell. While everything had seemed very real, she

knew she hadn’t really stood in a garden talking to Freya. Yet she
did
feel different. It was like something

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inside of her had changed in a subtle but important way. Some of the loneliness and anger she’d been

feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of purpose. She suddenly felt as if she could do anything. It didn’t

matter that Kate and Cooper weren’t with her. She had done the ritual all on her own, and it had gone

well. She was proud of herself. And if Freya was around somewhere, all the better. Annie was looking

forward to seeing what the goddess had in store for her—if, in fact, she had come at all.

She stood up and stretched, working the stiffness from her arms and legs. She had been sitting longer

than she’d thought. Then she spun around, enjoying the feeling of being inside the sacred circle in her own

room, with the full moon outside and the smell of roses all around. As she spun she reached up and undid

the rubber band holding her long braid together. She used her fingers to comb out her hair, and soon it

hung around her shoulders.

Stretching her hands out, she spun faster, her feet turning and her body swaying as she moved. It was

making her a little dizzy, but she enjoyed the feeling. She was suddenly so happy that she laughed, and

the sound was rich and pure, like water rolling over smooth stones.

CHAPTER 5

“Is this Cooper Rivers?” the voice on the phone asked.

“Who’s calling?” Cooper responded. She’d been wary of phone calls from people whose voices she

didn’t recognize ever since she’d received dozens of calls after the story about her being contacted by

the ghost of Elizabeth Sanger had appeared in the paper. The woman talking sounded normal, but

Cooper knew all too well that those people were usually the first to cause trouble.

“This is Sam Rogers,” the woman told her. “I saw you perform over at Cuppa Joe’s on Saturday night.

You were really good.”

“Thanks,” replied Cooper, not sure what the woman wanted. Was she calling just because she’d liked

the piece? That was nice, but kind of weird.

“I run the spoken word nights over at Big Mouth,” Sam continued. “I was wondering if you’d like to

perform at our New Words night on the ninth. It’s a Tuesday.”

Cooper didn’t know what to say. Big Mouth was
the
place for performance art in the city. Everyone

who was anyone in the poetry and performance art scene performed there. Now
she
was being asked to

be part of one of their shows.

“Hello?” Sam said after Cooper failed to respond.

“I’m sorry,” Cooper said finally. “Not to be rude or anything, but please tell me this isn’t a joke.”

Sam laughed. “No,” she said. “It’s not a joke. I thought what you said was really original, and your

delivery was excellent. The New Words night is for emerging talent, and I particularly want to get more

young people. So, how about it?”

“Count me in,” Cooper said, trying to sound cool. She was about to burst with excitement, but she

wanted Sam to think she was handling it like a mature artist.

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“Great,” Sam said. “Like I said, it’s on the ninth. Be there around seven. We’ll do all the advertising. All

you have to do is show up. You’ll have seven minutes, so you should be able to do at least three pieces.

You have three, right?”

“Sure,” Cooper said airily.
Not three that are ready,
she thought to herself. But Sam didn’t need to

know that. The performance wasn’t until the ninth. That gave her eight days to whip her rough ideas into

shape. That would be no problem.

“Okay then,” Sam told her. “I’ll see you on the night of the show. And once again, I really liked your

stuff.”

Cooper hung up. She stood in her room for a moment, staring at the wall and letting what had just

happened sink in. Then she let out a whoop and started dancing around the room wildly, waving her arms

around in a victory dance. She felt like an idiot, but she was so happy she didn’t care. She had been

asked to perform at Big Mouth. She still couldn’t quite believe it was true.

What if it isn’t true?
she thought suddenly.
What if that was someone playing a joke on you?

She stopped dancing. Was it possible that someone would do that? She didn’t think so, but you could

never be sure.
Artists are weird,
she reminded herself. Maybe someone from Cuppa Joe’s was jealous

of her, or just didn’t like her, and had decided to show her up by pretending to be from Big Mouth.

Her elation faded as she looked at the phone, trying to decide if Sam Rogers was really who she said

she was. Cooper didn’t want to show up the night of the performance and find out she wasn’t really on

the bill.

Don’t be ridiculous,
she told herself. But the doubt was still there. Finally, after agonizing over it for a

few minutes she went into the hallway and retrieved the phone book from the closet. Thumbing through it,

she found the number for Big Mouth and dialed it. She almost hung up, but before she could someone

picked up.

“Is Sam Rogers there?” Cooper asked.

“Just a minute,” the guy said, and Cooper could hear the phone being put down.

A few moments later Cooper heard someone say, “Hello?” It sounded like the woman’s voice, but she

was so nervous she couldn’t be one hundred percent positive.

“Hi,” said Cooper. “It’s Cooper Rivers.”

She paused a moment, waiting for Sam to say, “Who?”

But instead Sam said, “Hi. What’s up?”

“Oh,” said Cooper, realizing she hadn’t made up any excuse for calling Sam back. “Um, I just wanted to

double-check the time of the show. It’s seven, right?”

“Right,” Sam answered. “Just come on by and we’ll set you up.”

“Okay,” said Cooper. “Thanks.”

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She hung up and once more began her celebratory dance, this time waving the phone book around while

she did it. She was shimmying in front of the mirror when suddenly she looked up and saw T.J.’s face

reþected in the shiny surface. She stopped dancing and whirled around.

“Hey,” she said nonchalantly, as if she’d just been standing there checking her hair or something.

“Hey,” he said. “Your mom let me in. Nice moves, by the way. You practicing for when you catch that

big touchdown at the Super Bowl?”

Cooper knew she was blushing, but she tried to keep her cool. “No,” she said. “Just having a little

moment of artistic exuberance. I was celebrating my first major success as a spoken word performer.”

“Two days after the fact?” T.J. said.

“Cuppa Joe’s was just the warm-up,” Cooper said. “I’m hitting the big time now.”

T.J. raised an eyebrow. “Going on tour with Anastacia?” he asked.

“Better,” said Cooper. She was dying to give him her news, but she wanted to hold out for as long as

possible.

“Eminem?” T.J. tried again.

Cooper made a noise of disgust. “That malcontent?” she said. “Hardly. He should be half as talented as

I am.”

“I give up, then,” T.J. said.

“You are looking at the star of the upcoming New Words night at none other than Big Mouth,” Cooper

said dramatically.

She was pleased to see that she had genuinely surprised T.J. He was looking at her with a mix of

admiration and shock. “That is
so
cool!” he said.

“Isn’t it?” Cooper responded. “I’ve got seven minutes. Now I just have to think of something to read.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked her boyfriend. “You’re not going to do the same piece again, are

you?”

Cooper shook her head. “I want to do something different,” she said. “I was hoping you’d help me pick

some stuff.”

“Sure,” T.J. answered, sitting down on her bed.

Cooper went to her desk and pulled out a notebook. “I’ve been writing a lot of stuff lately,” she told T.J.

as she flipped the book open. “Lyrics, mostly, but I think some of it would work as spoken word stuff,

too. There’s a lot of great stuff in here about Wicca. I thought I might use some of that.”

Since T.J. had asked about Annie and the Tarot cards on Saturday night, Cooper had told him a lot

more about her interest in and involvement with witchcraft. After dinner with Kate and Tyler, he and she

had taken a walk along the beach while she filled him in on what the Craft meant to her and what kinds of

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things she did. She’d told him everything about seeing Elizabeth Sanger’s ghost and about the rituals she,

Kate, and Annie had been to. She even told him all about the horrible events of Midsummer Eve.

T.J. had listened patiently, asking questions here and there when he didn’t understand something.

Afterward he’d given her a hug and a kiss and said, “I think it’s cool you’ve found something like that to

be into, but I like you because you’re you.”

Cooper had come home that night flying high. She’d never expected to find someone like T.J., someone

who shared a lot of her interests and who let her be herself without feeling threatened or weirded out.

She didn’t expect him to become Wiccan or anything, but she was really happy that she could talk about

it with him and not have to feel like he was judging her.

Now T.J. looked at the notebook in her hands and said, “You’re thinking of talking about the witch stuff

in your performances?”

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “There’s some great material here. I think it would be really powerful.”

T.J. didn’t respond right away. He had a look on his face that Cooper had never seen before, and she

couldn’t read it at all.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him.

“It’s no big thing,” replied T.J. “I was just thinking that maybe you could write about something else.”

“Why?” asked Cooper. “It makes for good stuff. It’s all about empowerment and embracing yourself. I

think people would like it. Even if they don’t,
I
like it.”

“But your regular stuff is so great,” T.J. said. “I think you’d do better if you just stuck with that.”

“You haven’t even heard my Wicca material,” argued Cooper. “Shouldn’t you at least hear some of it

before you say that?” She couldn’t understand why T.J. was being so resistant to the idea of her doing

some pieces centered around the Craft.

T.J. sighed. “I just don’t think you should hit people with that right at the beginning,” he said.

Cooper put down the notebook. “Does it bother you that I’m into this?” she asked. “Because you said it

didn’t.”

T.J. shook his head. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” he said. “I’m cool with it. But other people might not

be. Look what happened when you talked about seeing that girl’s ghost. You got harassed all over the

place. I just don’t want that to happen again.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Cooper said warily. “But why do I think it’s more that you don’t want

people to think that your girlfriend might be a witch?”

T.J. groaned. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s hard to explain.”

Cooper snorted. “Try me,” she said.

T.J. patted the place next to him on the bed. “Sit down,” he said. “I want to tell you something.”

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Suddenly, Cooper was afraid. What was T.J. going to say? Was he going to tell her that he didn’t want

to go out with her anymore? He’d seemed so cool on Saturday night. Had something changed since

then? Had he been thinking it over and decided he couldn’t deal with her involvement in Wicca?

Cooper sat down. “So talk,” she said.

T.J. put his hands in his lap. “You know I have three brothers,” he said.

Cooper nodded. T.J. had told her all about his family. His brother Mike, who was nineteen, was away

at college. Seamus, who was twenty-one, lived in New York and worked as a bartender while he tried

to break into acting. And Dylan, twenty-three, ran a construction company in Los Angeles. The

McAllister boys, as they were known, were a tight-knit bunch even though they all lived in different parts

of the country. T.J. was always talking about them, and although she had never met any of them, Cooper

could tell that T.J. really loved them all.

“So you have three brothers,” she said. “That’s why you don’t want me to do any witchy stuff at my

performance? You’re afraid your brothers might show up and hear it?
That
makes a lot of sense.”

“No,” said T.J. “Just listen for a minute. I haven’t told you everything about my family. See, there’s

something about Dylan that you and I have never discussed. We don’t even really talk about it at home

much.”

Cooper waited for T.J. to continue. She was still riled up over his suggestion that she censor her

material, but he clearly was trying to share something with her.

“Dylan is gay,” he said finally. Then he looked at her.

“So Dylan is gay,” Cooper repeated, shrugging her shoulders. “What does that have to do with

anything? Lots of people are gay.”

“I know,” T.J. said. “You’re missing the point.
I
know it’s okay for Dylan to be gay.
You
know it’s okay

for Dylan to be gay. But there are a lot of people out there who don’t know that, or who don’t think that.

It took him a long time to tell any of us, and even then it took some people in my family a while to realize

that it didn’t matter. But there are still people he doesn’t tell because it
would
matter to them. I mean,

he’s in construction. He can’t tell every foreman and contractor and welder he works with that he’s gay.

They just wouldn’t all understand.”

Cooper took T.J.’s hand and held it. “I understand what you’re saying,” she told him. “And thanks for

telling me about Dylan. But this isn’t the same thing.”

“I think it is,” T.J. argued. “There are people who might not like Dylan if they knew he was gay, and

there are people who might not like you if they know about the witch stuff.”

“I don’t
care
if people like me,” Cooper said.

T.J. rolled his eyes. “As if I don’t know that,” he said. But then he turned serious. “It’s not just about

their not liking you,” he said. “It can be worse. Dylan was attacked once by guys who found out he was

gay and didn’t like it. He was okay, but it really shook him up. It shook all of us up. You told me that you

got a lot of nasty calls about the ghost thing. What if that happens again?”

“I got
calls
,” said Cooper. “No one attacked me. No one did anything more than call me a few names.