Don't Die Dragonfly (2 page)

By the time I made a sharp left on Lilac Lane, an unpaved, rutted road, the dark images had faded. Still, I was left with a stark fear.

When I slipped through the iron gate of Nona’s driveway, my fears eased. The weathered yellow house had been my touchstone since I was little, a haven where nothing could get me. I loved Nona’s cozy farmhouse, with its big wraparound porch, rambling red barn, cows, goats, horses, chickens, dogs, and cats.

Ten acres of tangled woods stretched far behind the pasture, bumping up against new developments. Sheridan Valley used to be a quiet farming town, but its central location made it an easy commute to Stockton or Sacramento and the population had skyrocketed. Still, it maintained a slow pace and country charm, and I’d been truly happy since moving here. Even with upscale houses squeezing in from both sides, Nona’s home was my paradise.

And there was Nona. Crouched on her knees in the garden, a wide straw hat shading her deep-lined face. She’d done so much for me: taking me in when my parents sent me away, holding me tight to heal the hidden hurts.

Watching her tend her garden, I longed to rush into her comforting arms. She knew all about visions and predictions. She would understand my anxiety more than anyone. But I couldn’t confide in her—because of the lie.

Sighing, I avoided Nona by doubling around to the back of the house. Since there was no one I could talk to, I’d purge my demons with loud music and a bath of scented bubbles.

As I hurried up the wooden steps, chickens squawked out of my way and a white cat with mismatched eyes regarded me solemnly.

“Don’t give me that look, Lilybelle. I’ve had a bad day and I don’t need any of your attitude.” I patted her silky fur and pushed open the screen door.

There was an odd scent in the air—musty and a little wild. As I made my way through the laundry room and kitchen, I tried to identify the unfamiliar odor. It reminded me of a sunny morning after a summer storm. Fresh, light, but also a little sultry. Had Nona concocted a new herbal carpet freshener? She only used natural cleaners and remedies like crushed pine needle shampoo, goat’s milk soap, and a honey rose-petal elixir for sore throats. The smell grew stronger as I walked down the narrow hall, which was decorated with family pictures: Mom as a baby, my parents on their wedding day, and portraits of Nona’s three deceased husbands.

A sloshing sound stopped me cold.

From the bathroom. But that wasn’t possible. Nona and I lived alone.

I started down the hall, but then doubled back to the kitchen to grab a broom—not that I’d need a weapon, but it wouldn’t hurt. Holding it out in front of me like a sword, I moved cautiously down the hall. The bathroom door was open a crack, and through it I could see the sink, filled to the top with water. And perched on the silver faucet was a large bird. A falcon! Why was a falcon taking a bath in my sink?

But the bird wasn’t alone.

When I saw the shadowy figure by the hamper, I was so startled I dropped my broom. The bird screeched and ruffled its powerful wings. Before I could scream, the shadowed person lunged for me. He slapped one arm across my shoulders and clamped down over my mouth with the other hand.

“Shush!” he ordered in a harsh whisper. “Don’t make a sound.”

I struggled, hitting and jabbing with my elbows. But his grip was firm. He dragged me away from the bathroom. My shock switched to anger. How dare this guy attack me in my own home! I kicked him in leg as hard as I could.

He grunted with pain. “Cut it out!” he cried.

I kicked again, and when he jerked back, his hand over my mouth loosened, so I bit down. Hard.

“HEY! That hurt!”

“Good!” I squirmed and slipped out of his grasp. “I hope I drew blood.”

“Geez, you bite worse than a badger.” He sucked his injured hand. “Nona was way off when she told me about you.”

I backed against a wall. “You know my grandmother?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“You tell me! And what’s with the bird?” Hugging myself, I stared, really seeing him for the first time. He was youngish, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He was a few inches taller than I was, maybe five-foot-ten. He was wiry, with muscular arms, sandy-brown hair and eyes like silver-blue mirrors. His jeans were dark, and he wore an unbuttoned, brown flannel shirt over a faded blue T-shirt.

“He’s a falcon, and he got oil on his wings, so I brought him inside to clean up. Sorry if I scared you,” he said.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“I didn’t want you to startle Dagger.” He glanced toward the bathroom where I heard a soft swish of water.

“You
own
a falcon?”

“Wild creatures can’t be owned. But he trusts me. If you’d screamed, he would have panicked and hurt himself. Hey, relax. I’m not going to attack you.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said sarcastically. “I am so reassured. What do you call what just happened? A friendly handshake?”

“Hey, I’m the one bleeding.” He held out his hand, where a reddish half circle of teeth marks contrasted his tanned skin. Blood trickled from the deepest mark.

I ignored his hand and gave him a sizzling look. “Explain yourself,” I demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him.”

Whirling around, I saw Nona. She still wore her wide-brimmed straw hat and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

“You—you did?” I stammered. “But why?”

“Dominic is going to stay here to help with repairs and care for the animals.”

“Why hire someone? I can help you.”

“Not in the way he can. So stop scowling and welcome him, Sabine.” Nona smiled. “Dominic is part of our family now.”

After slamming the door to my room, I sorted through my CDs looking for something to match my mood.

If I were at school, I’d listen to the trendy artists everyone raved about. But at home, I could be myself, giving into my secret passion for eclectic music. I indulged in music the same way some people ate certain foods for emotional comfort. Classical for introspective moments, jazz for happy times, and heavy metal for dark, furious moods.

But not even the pounding sound of Metallica and rose-scented bubbles could calm me. How could Nona invite a stranger to live with us without even asking me? It wasn’t right! Nona and I had settled into a comfortable routine and got along great. We didn’t need anyone else. Not my parents or neighbors—and definitely not some weird guy with a falcon.

I held my breath and sank deep under the warm water.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself,
a voice said.

“Go away, Opal,” I replied with my thoughts. “I have enough problems.”

You don’t know how good you have it. When I was your age—

“Not one of your My-Life-Was-Torture stories.” I couldn’t hold my breath anymore and came up for air. Music vibrated the walls, but the voice in my head came through louder. With my eyes still closed, I could see Opal’s critical arched brows and dark eyes. For a spirit guide, she was a terrible nag.

You were rude to that young man,
she complained.
Didn’t I teach you better manners than that? He’s important, you know—or you would know if you listened instead of being so stubborn.

“Stay out of my head,” I told her. “I’m normal now. I have a cool best friend who is even a cheerleader; I’m on the school newspaper staff; and kids like me because I don’t hear voices, see spirits, or predict death. No one knows what happened at my other school. I’ve started over, and I don’t want you to interfere.”

Whine, whine, whine. You can’t run from who you are, so why fight it?

“Go away.” I sloshed out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and snapped off the CD.

After I was dressed, I climbed up a curved staircase to my bedroom. It used to be an attic until four months ago when I moved in. Nona had offered me the guestroom next to her office, but I’d begged for the cozy attic room, with its arched ceiling and view of the woods.

Nona also gave me free rein to decorate my room. I chose a lavender theme, draping silky fabric around the windows and arranging daisy-shaped rugs on the polished wood floor. Along with my taste in music, I had “different” taste in hobbies. I’d recently started embroidering a pillow to match my white and purple quilted comforter. I kept my craft materials in a cedar trunk that used to belong to Nona’s mother.

Working with my hands always relaxed me, so I slid open the trunk and pulled out the pillow. Using yarn shades from snow white to pale lavender, I’d already embroidered half of the winter landscape picture. At first glance, the soft threads were all white. But as you peered closer, shapes clarified—an owl, a snowman, hills, trees, and a snow-covered cottage.

Weaving my needle in and out, I leaned against the cushion in my window seat and stared across the tops of lush green pines. It was great here at Nona’s and I’d never been happier. So why did Nona have to spoil everything by inviting him?

“It’s just not right,” I complained to my best friend the next day at school. “He’s not even friendly. After that whole mess in the bathroom, he’s avoided me.”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Penny Lovell—nicknamed Penny-Love—said as she slammed her locker shut. We met every morning at our lockers and caught up on the latest gossip. Bright as sunshine with curly copper-red hair, Penny-Love spun the social wheels around school, and usually did all the talking. But today I had plenty to say.

“His only excuse is a bad attitude. Yet the way Nona treats him, you’d think he was royalty. He doesn’t bother coming in to dinner; Nona takes a tray out to him—like she works for him, not the other way around.”

“Your grandmother is only being kind.”

“This is beyond normal kindness. She gave him the barn apartment, which is bigger than my room and has electricity and a private bathroom. And Nona says she’s going to get him a small refrigerator. Can you believe it?”

Penny-Love paused to wave at a group of girls passing by. Then she turned back to me. “Uh, sure. But you haven’t told me the important details. Like what he
looks
like.”

“He’s just weird.” I frowned. “There’s something strange about him. I can’t figure out what exactly; it’s just a feeling I have.”

Penny-Love giggled. “Maybe you should ask Manny the Mystic for advice. Did you see his column yet?”

“Is it out already?”

“Yeah. And it’s better than usual. Here.” She unzipped a pocket of her backpack and withdrew a folded newspaper. “Check it out.”

My fingers trembled slightly as I unfolded the paper. A dragonfly with bloody wings flashed in my mind. I shut out the image and focused on the paper.

Penny-Love was right—Manny had outdone himself. He’d added a “spotlight on the future” feature where he picked a random student and predicted her life ten years from now. Sophomore Amanda Redmond was destined to have a great career as a fashion designer, marry an airplane pilot, and have three children—all boys.

Reading over my shoulder, Penny-Love chuckled. “Amanda? A fashion designer? That’ll be the day.”

“How come?” I asked.

“She wears faded army fatigues and oversized hiking boots. She has zero fashion sense.”

I thought Penny-Love was being kind of harsh, but our friendship was still new, so I didn’t say anything.

Returning my gaze to the newspaper, I skimmed over the next predictions. Some of them were my suggestions, like the lucky color. Glancing down at the vines embroidered up the leg of my jeans, I hoped green would indeed prove lucky.

When I reached the end of the column and found no mention of the girl with a dragonfly tattoo, I felt relieved—and disappointed. I was glad my silly idea wasn’t in print for everyone to see. But I felt uneasy, too, as if I’d let someone down.

“Cool, huh?” Penny-Love said as we reached our homeroom class. “I mean, I don’t believe it or whatever, but it’s fun. Where does Manny get all his ideas?”

“He has a good imagination. If he doesn’t get that Pulitzer he’s always talking about, he’ll make a great tabloid writer.”

“Is that a prediction?” she teased.

“No!” I said a bit too sharply. “I only believe facts.”

“Like the fact that you’re hot for Josh.” She nudged me and pointed to a dark-haired boy as we took our seats. “You ever gonna tell him how you feel?”

My gaze drifted across desktops. The room suddenly felt warm and I couldn’t stop staring. Josh DeMarco. Student council junior president, A+ student, a dedicated volunteer, and so fine that my heart sped up just being near him. He was too good to be true—maybe too good for me. And I hadn’t found the nerve to talk to him. I probably never would.

The morning went by quickly with a surprise quiz in English lit and extra homework in Spanish. I always ate lunch in the cafeteria with Penny-Love and her group of cheerleading friends, but I’d forgotten my calculus book, so I made a detour to my locker. As I grabbed my book, out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed dark hair and a smile so sweet it took my breath away.

Josh.

Waving as he left his friends Zach and Evan, Josh was walking this way. In seconds, he’d pass by, just inches from me. This was my chance to talk to him, find out if he knew my name and might want to know more. Yeah, like that was going to happen! If I managed to utter one word that would be a miracle.

But I couldn’t let him catch me staring, so I leaned closer to my locker—too close! I banged my head on the door, then lost my grip on my book, and it went crashing to the floor. By the time I’d picked it up and shut my locker, Josh had passed.

With a low groan, I watched him pause to talk to a girl with long brown hair, then laugh at something she said before continuing on his way.

Sounds faded and a fog rolled through my mind, clouding everything except Josh. It was as if I was standing next to him, moving in step and sharing his heartbeat. I could even hear this thoughts. He was thinking about his car—a secondhand Honda Civic—and planning to stop by an auto parts store after school to repair a broken taillight. Not paying attention, he walked into his auto shop class. I smelled grease and saw the instructor helping a skinny boy move a car on a lift.

Josh headed straight for a tool cabinet, crouching low to sort through a bottom drawer. He was directly in front of the lift, with his back to it.

My mind was still with Josh as I closed my own locker and began walking towards the auto shop, just at the end of the hallway.

I entered the classroom that was just outside the actual shop. A couple kids noticed me; one was a girl from my calc class.

“Hey, Sabine,” she said, but I didn’t say anything.

Josh was still hunched over the drawer, looking for something. “Spark plug gapping tool,” I heard in my mind. The skinny boy had the control for the lift in his hand now, but the instructor had turned to help someone else.

I was standing in the doorway to the shop, just a few quick strides from Josh. I took a small step toward him.

There was a loud grinding noise and sparks from a machine on the other side of the shop. Josh was still searching. He had no idea. The boy at the lift timidly pushed a green button on the control. The wheels weren’t secure; I just knew that. The noise was so loud, but I could somehow hear in Josh’s head, “Where is that stupid thing?”

Suddenly, there was a jarring noise and one of the wheels slipped off the platform. The skinny boy frantically pushed the red button, but the car slipped forward. I was now moving in large strides toward Josh. There was so much noise! Running, I reached Josh and pushed him, hard, and we both tumbled over as the car came all the way off the lift and rolled forward, smashing into the tool cabinet where Josh had been standing.

The noise stopped. Josh looked at me. Everyone looked at me.

“Huh?” Josh said in bewilderment. “What just happened?”

Brushing dirt off my jeans, I stood up on shaky legs. I couldn’t say anything because all the breath had been knocked out of me.

He smoothed back his dark hair, standing tall so he towered at least a head over me. “Do I know you?” he asked.

“Uh … well … ” There goes Miss Conversationalist!

Realization seemed to dawn on him as he looked at the smashed cabinet and the lopsided car. “WOW! That almost hit me! Unbelievable!”

I managed a weak nod.

The instructor rushed over, and, after quickly making sure Josh was okay, he called some students to help move the car.

I started to go, when Josh touched my arm. “Wait.”

I waited.

He pushed his hair from his eyes as he studied me. “I don’t understand exactly what happened, but I know I owe you a huge thanks.”

“Well … ” Being near him stole my thoughts.

“How did you know?”

“I—I uh … ” I took a deep breath. “I heard the wheels slip.”

His dark brows arched. “How could you? It was too noisy to hear anything.”

“Everyone says I have unusually good hearing.” Did I just say that?

“Lucky for me.”

“It’s the color green.” I pointed at his shirt. “It’s lucky.”

Josh blinked like he hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.

“Don’t you read Mystic Manny? He has a weekly column and it’s mega popular, so you must have heard about it,” I babbled like a fool. Now that I was finally talking to my dream guy, I didn’t want it to end.

“Oh, yeah. I know who you mean.”

“Then you know Manny writes for the
Sheridan Shout-Out.”

“Oh. The school paper. I was interviewed in it a few weeks ago.”

“The September thirteenth issue.” I didn’t add that I’d clipped the article and tacked it to the bulletin board in my bedroom. I kept right on blathering, “In every issue Manny picks a lucky color and it’s green this week. See, I’m even wearing green vines on my jeans.”

“Nice design,” he said.

Was he checking me out? Did he like what he saw? I was kind of skinny, not much on top, more like a twelve-year-old than a sixteen-year-old. But my face was okay and Penny-Love said my long blond hair was my best feature, that the ribbon of black streaking through my hair was cool. Still, I was unsure. Afraid Josh would take one look at me and run away.