Where you aren’t completely and utterly alone.
I wanted to impress upon Jesse that my decision to lie to Baba andbook a ticket to Masr was out of character. Before spring break, I considered skipping class a cardinal sin. I ate my veggies and went to bed at a reasonable time. By all accounts, I was the perfect daughter.
“Last November, I got a call from an unknown number. It was a woman claiming to be my mother’s younger sister. She knew details about Mama, about the history of her and Baba’s marriage. She knew things nobody other than family would know. She offered to fly me out to Masr.” I clear my throat. The excitement had been more than I could bear. I didn’t stop and wonder why she had called me now, after seventeen years. After Mama had been dead for eight of them. I didn’t wonder why she hadn’t asked to talk to Baba, the way any normal adult would have. “I called her back the next day and accepted. I didn’t tell anyone I was going. I knew Baba would never let me meet someone on my mom’s side of the family.”
The last sentence emerges in a shamed whisper. What a fool past Mina was. What a fool she still is.
A creaking from downstairs causes me and Jesse to freeze. “Yasmina? Are you home?” Baba calls. A replica of my own entry a few hours ago.
Panicked, I lurch off the bed and grab my door. “I’m home, Baba! I’m taking a nap, though, so please don’t knock on my door.”
“Are you sure? I bought your favorite for dinner.” A worried pause. “Thai food is your favorite, yes?”
I’ve never tried Thai food. The nearest Thai restaurant is fifteen miles outside of Ward, and my car tries to pass into the afterlife if I drive it more than ten miles on any given day.
“Absolutely. Thank you!”
“Good, good. I’ll leave it for you on the table.”
I close the door, sliding the lock in place. I installed the latch myself a week ago. Baba still doesn’t know it’s there. Jesse finishes untangling his shoelaces and shrugs his jacket into place.
“Does it happen with your dad?” Jesse asks. He tips his head, and Irealize that he’s listened silently for the past twenty minutes. Cataloging, assessing. I still don’t know why he thinks I’m cursed or how he knew about the thing, but he’s got half my life story on a silver platter, and I know nothing new about him. A good negotiator, I am not.
“I don’t know. We haven’t been in a room together since I got back.” Besides my newfound powers of avoidance, Baba is always at the university. We’re glorified housemates.
Jesse jumps from the bed and begins pacing. Dressed in black from head to toe, he resembles a thundercloud creeping over my sunny yellow bedroom. His steel-toed work boots leave indents in my carpet. “Before I leave, tell me exactly what you’ve learned about this thing. How it works, when it appears.”
I gesture at him to keep the volume down. Our walls are paper thin. “Not much. I’m usually too busy fighting for my life to jot down notes.” No way am I showing him the journal.
“Mansour. I’ve seen you scribbling in that notebook of yours.”
I balk. He’s been watching me?
But Jesse has a strange look on his face, almost as if he regrets speaking, and I would rather not push for answers I’m not sure I want. If my fall from grace was obvious to evenJesse Talbot,then I don’t want to think of how many curious eyes I’ve had on me since spring break.
I give him the recap without much emotion. “I can’t be alone in a room with someone. That’s the only part I know for sure. I was filling my car at the gas station and an attendant doused me in gasoline, so I think empty outside areas are also a no-go.”
A hint of shock finally pierces Jesse’s impeccable poker face. “Shit.”
“Agreed.” I replace the sopping wet towel under the metal door with a new one from the dresser. “I think it’s getting stronger. What happened this morning, and with Miss Diaz, she—” I clear my throat. The words don’t want to come, too horrible to usher into reality. “The thing shouldn’thave been able to hold on to her after you arrived. It took way too long to leave her body.”
I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself.
Whatever it is, it’s getting stronger.
Jesse appears to arrive at the same conclusion. “First, we need to figure out what the hell happened during your trip. Collect intel on your aunt and the house. We need to find the source before the solution.”
“We?” I track his frenetic movements. “You’re going to help?”
Jesse stops wearing grooves into my carpet, his features pained but firm. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The bell rings, and I brace myself.
I’ve claimed my spot under the jacaranda tree, sitting on the side facing the cracked rubber running tracks. Behind me, backpacks hit stained tables and everyone still in PE shorts winces at the sting of the frigid metal bench against their skin. The chatter is less cacophonous out here by my tree, more of a comfort than an itch. I don’t hear the strains of conversation reminding me of prom preparations and monogrammed graduation invites. I can pretend none of it is passing me by. I can pretend there is still a chance I’ll get to be part of it.
Rainie, Aida, and Lucia enter the quad. Rainie tosses her backpack onto the table, mouth furled into a snarl as she talks. Probably complaining about Mr. Clay, who sprinkles passive-aggressive comments into his history lecture like racist seasoning. With her spiky red hair, sharpen-your-knives winged eyeliner, and unending supply of black clothes, Rainie Nguyen specializes in bringing her enemies to their knees.
Lucia reaches for Rainie’s shoulder. Anyone else wouldn’t dare touch Rainie in the middle of one of her rants, but Lucia Romano is the kind of girl who could befriend a ravenous wolf if you just gave her enough time. The third in a family of six, Lucia has years of crisis control experience under her belt. She wears sundresses with dancing ladybugs and a flowerin her long hair. Her binders are covered in mismatched stickers, and she keeps colored tabs for her homework and class notes.
