Seeing Jayla’s sadness and hearing the corny joke she picked up somewhere, I force a smirk. “Now we’re even. You’ve avenged the Barbie doll I beheaded when I was five.”
She gazes at a mat by her feet instead of laughing. “Sorry again, Rock.”
She slides out of the truck and helps me do the same, my movements slow and stiff. I grunt as my arm throbs. Pain echoes with each step as we walk toward the house, the gravel crunching beneath our feet.
Charles looms closer as soon as we step inside. “Malcolm, this is worse than I thought,” he says, staring at my wound with a healer’s concern.
The bandages on my arm are stained reddish brown.
His brows form an upside-downVas he tugs the ponytail of his dreads. “I have to—”
“I know,” I reply. He’ll have to use his magic to heal it. I can count on big bro for two things: nagging and ripping me to shreds when he complains to Big-Mama, making it seem like I’m all brawn and emotion and no brains; and stitching me back together when I’m falling apart.
Charles is an asshole. He’s always been jealous of the fact that I’m the family’s protector now. That I’m Mama’s favorite. But he’s my brother. I know he’ll get me better so I can get to Emma in two days. Then, I’ll see if we can find an escape hatch from this Tether nonsense. When I do that, Charles and everybody else will have to see that I am more than just heart and muscle. I’m not the rockhead they joke about.
“Children, come here,” Ma’s voice chimes from down the hall, breaking the tension.
We head into the living room. Bluebirds flutter around her, leaving trails of sparkling sapphire light. My mother’s face glows with joy, hersmile bright and buttery, but my attention is snagged by the turquoise-blue shimmer of a waterfall in the far corner of the room. Golden rocks glitter under the crashing waves, and at the bottom, water pools into a shallow pond, where magical fish swim. Their scales shift from black to red and green, shimmering with a metallic sheen.
What. The. Hell. Is. This?
Tranquil blues and golden hues explode all over the room, spilling onto the walls and ceiling. Mama’s light brown face is lit by golden beams of sunlight conjured above us. She grins proudly. “I redecorated. Don’t you love it?”
I glance up. Fluffy clouds roll by the beaming sun on the ceiling. “It looks real good, Ma,” I say, shaking my head. Why can’t I have a normal living room? A normal life?
She claps her hands with glee. “It’s peaceful. I knew you’d love it. Did my drink help?”
It almost helped me get mauled during battle training. “Yeah, Ma. Thanks.”
She laughs again, the sound light and sweet as a bird singing. “I can protect you,” she says, her tone hopeful. “I won’t fail you like I did Alex.” At the mention of his name, the joy in her face is cast in shadow. A few clouds block the conjured sunlight, and the room darkens.
I lean in and kiss her cheek, and like that, the room brightens again, golden light spilling from the ceiling.
She puts a palm on my face, her eyes soft and full of love. “My son-shine,” she says.
The ache in my arm pulls me back to reality. I need to get it fixed before the pain kills me, but Charles just stares, his mouth hanging open as real sapphire flames crackle in the firepit. The walls have become a breathing canvas, a golden African savannah alive with holographic zebras and giraffes grazing on emerald grass. Their movements cast rippling shadows that dance across the room.
I need to be home more to keep an eye on Ma. If I’d been with her tonight, she might not have done all this. It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand it. The more tense things get at home and the closer the Tether gets, the more Ma conjures madness. Maybe it gives her some sense of control. Anyway, I gottasupport her, be here to protect the family. But my mind is stuck on Emma. Working to stop the Tether and prevent more blood from being spilled is worth the risk of more rooms with breathing canvases.
The pain in my arm distracts me from the safe, beautiful world Ma made.
“Malcolm, what happened?” Big-Mama’s voice booms as she enters the room with Pop-Pop. Her nose is slender, her skin beautifully dark, her cheekbones high and proud next to tinsel-gray coils that starkly contrast the dark linen suit Pop-Pop wears. She touches my arm.
Ma seems confused. She’s been so busy watching the bluebirds fluttering around the room that she didn’t notice the blood seeping through my bandage.
“Well?” Big-Mama asks.
My throat tightens. Words are caged ravens when I look at the frail beauty of my mama’s smile.
“Something’s wrong?” Ma asks, her voice trembling.
I don’t want to say anything that will set her off again. I glance at my bandaged arm, then at Charles, trying to think of the best response.
“I-it was an accident,” Jayla blurts, straightening her cat-eye glasses.
Big-Mama frowns, her anger rising like steam on Ma’s honey butter biscuits. Her frustration is as visible as the magical baobab tree in the corner and the white elephant walking through the grass on the wall opposite her. “That will need healing,” she says.
Big-Mama settles into a wooden vine-covered chair, nestled under the sprawling baobab tree. The tree’s golden fruit casts a nurturing light over her aged beauty. “Charles, take care of your brother,” she orders.
