My heart thumps as the beast, outlined in fire, stalks closer. Her eyes blaze with hellfire, muscles rippling as she advances. The pink mouthopens, revealing dripping, spear-like teeth. A roar thunders, ricocheting off brick walls until my shaky palms cover my ears. I inch away, knowing that if I run, she’ll pounce.
“Easy, girl,” I say, stepping back as the lion’s hungry eyes blaze. She’s cranky too. I lift my fist as the lion slowly turns, her head rising. A growl floats on the air. I freeze.
Sweat oozes down my neck.
“Come onnn,” I groan. Ma-a-an, I should have seen this coming, detected her anger and escaped sooner. It must be that drink Mama gave me, making my head hazy. I should have known I’d be in trouble by the way that purple liquid had burned going down my throat. But Mama had looked so hopeful and happy when she’d given me that drink and so sad when I’d refused at first. She wanted to protect me. And I’d wanted to make her smile, so I’d gulped that poison down and prayed it was jazzed-up Kool-Aid and not something that was gonna kill me.
Now my knees feel like they might buckle. I back away from the lion, knowing how out of control she can get. She growls. Glares at me with eyes of rolling black flame. A gasp bursts from my lips as she charges at me. Her massive paws kick up gravel. I dodge and weave, trying to calm her, but she darts at me again.
Angry snarls float on the air. Since nothing else is working, I race forward and tackle her. We bounce on the asphalt. Pain shoots through my wrist. I shove it down, punching as we tumble and roll over on the gravel.
“Calm down!” I mutter. “Stop this.”
The lion’s flaming body flickers, stinging me as we struggle. She roars again. I shove her snapping face into the asphalt, desperately avoiding the foam and blood-tinged saliva dripping from her fangs. Oh, God. Did she get me?
A cone of light approaches. Headlights. The roar of an engine fills my ears as I battle on. Light blinds me. I grip the lion by her rippling muscles. Tires shriek, and brakes squeal.
Charles parks his blue truck by the brick wall across from me. He lowers the window, yelling, “Focus! You fight like that in the Tether, and you’re the walking dead.”
I’m wrestling the lion, punching, struggling to avoid being stabbed by dripping fangs. Charles climbs out of the truck and leans against the hood, tying his dreadlocks into a low ponytail and laughing at me.
The lion’s hot breath blasts on my cheek. My eyes flicker to the fairy lights and the brick walls of the alley around us. I see a thin shimmery vision of Emma, like an image reflected on water. She’s got bruises as dark as dead leaves. She’s in a wrestling ring, and she’s crying. Could it be real? I never had a vision without my guitar before… But I can’t stop thinking of her, and now I’m seeing her too. What kinda voodoo did this girl put on me?
I blink and see her image again. It throws me off. My grip slips. The lion snaps free. Her claws dig into my arm with a searing burn. “Shi-i-it! Girl!” I can’t afford distraction, so I try not to look at the walls. Pain pulls me back to the problem at hand.Focus, Malcolm!I force my mind off Emma. My jaw sets tight with determination. “Calm down!” I yell as I shove the lion’s steamy mouth away. I hate when she gets out of control like this.
“Time’s up!” Charles pushes away from the hood of the truck. He tosses a ball of fire. It explodes into silver-colored trash cans, making them crunch and slam into the wall near me. Amber ribbons of flame shoot up from cans and burning garbage. The fire distracts the lion, which is still trying to devour me. It notices Charles for the first time and roars as he hurries inside the truck.
I jump to my feet and run toward the truck. I wrench open the door, fall inside, and slam the door against its hinges.
“Bet you’re glad we’re done for today,” Charles says.
Another loud roar rips through the alley. Dark fur rises. The lion stares at us like a predator looking at dinner.
Charles yanks the key and puts the truck in gear with a harsh grinding sound.
The lion roars again, its midnight-colored fur shifting in the light of the headlights.
“Buckle up,” Charles says.
The lion charges. It rams the front of the truck, rocks it so hard a couple of dreads escape my brother’s ponytail. My eyes go wide.
“Whoa!” Charles yells as the lion jumps onto the hood, thick claws making dents and long scratches in the paint. “Crap!” he sputters. He puts the truck in reverse, speeding backward and tossing me around like a bag of flour.
The lion falls in a heap of growling fur.
“You okay?” Charles asks, staring at the ripped brown skin and jagged red gashes on my arm like it’s the first time.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I didn’t realize she got me this bad.” I breathe, calming my thumping pulse. Outside the window, the lion exhales. Steam twists through her dripping spear-like teeth as they gleam in the light.
The fog thickens and the lion rises on twitchy legs. It’s growing, contorting; the fall has triggered a change. Its bones crack and stretch, its fur lightens, and the flames around it recede, slowly moving, smoothing away. The animal bubbles and bends and now stands with the face, biceps, belly, and calves of a teenage girl but the fur and claws of an animal. She moves, coated in steamy shadows, past a dumpster. The remaining fur fades, leaving the dark silhouette of a teenage girl gasping in the lion’s place. Under a veil of misty darkness, the girl shuffles around behind the dumpster before walking forward.
Shadows shift, and a familiar figure emerges. My sister Jayla, wearing the black tank top and camouflage pants that she changed into before approaching the truck. “Rockhead,” she says, panting. Her afro puffs bounce as she twirls a coil of hair around her finger. “Where’s your strategy?” She glares at me with angry eyes behind cat-eye glasses. Her brown face twists into a concerned expression as she stalks forward. “I swear. You’d climb a glass wall to peep what’s on the other side. You ain’t gonna win till you get yourself right within, Malcolm. Even Lady Lauryn of the Hill knows distraction and poor planning are deadly.”
I smile, masking the pain shooting through my arm. “Who’s distracted? I was going easy on you, sis. Trying to calm the lion.”
“Liar,” she replies. “I don’t know what kind of self-deletion mission you’re on, but if this was the Tether, Emma would bury you. And I’d have more beef with that girl than a meat locker if she made me the last of Big-Mama’s pretty grandkids breathing. I don’t need that much attention.”
“Hey,” Charles says. “We’re all pretty.”
