Little arms attacked me from behind. I patted the familiar hands on my belly. Of all the kids I came here for, little Max was the one I wanted to take home. I had a serious soft spot for this curly-haired little boy with the sad, observant eyes. I turned to give Max a hug. What I wasn’t prepared for was the monochrome of him. For days I’d seen a vivid array of colors around people. Even if Max’s eyes held a little sunshine from seeing me, the light around him was devoid of it. In fact, it couldn’t exactly be called light, but a gray, chalky smudge.
He had a sad shadow.
I blinked and knelt down as if seeing him for the first time. “How you doing, Max?”
He tried to turn away from me, uncomfortable with my scrutiny. He clearly wasn’t used to people really looking at him. I swallowed hard, hoping the gray around him would go away and thinking that my vision might walk a fine line between a gift and a curse.
“Pardon me,” Finn said from behind us. “This here looks like a bloke that could do with a real Irish tale. Am I right?” Max eyed him with suspicion rimmed in curiosity. “If you guess the ending,” Finn said, reaching into a pocket of his shirt, “I’ll play you a tune on my harmonica.”
I sat on the bench, and Max cozied up next to me to hear Finn’s story. I couldn’t help but stare, grateful for the opportunity to study Finn up close. How he moved his hands a lot when he talked. The way his lips curled around some words with that accent. How his dimple teased as he spoke. He locked on Max as if he were the most important person in the world. The colors around Finn reached out to the boy. If compassion had a shade, that’s what was coming off Finn right then, comforting shades of blue and gold. Max opened like a shy flower under Finn’s attention.
I couldn’t deny that it touched me. He touched me. Finn scared me, but stirred me, too. Like I’d been half-asleep my whole life and was suddenly wide-awake.
“The harmonica?” I asked as we walked through the parking lot later that evening. “Not exactly a traditional Irish instrument, is it?”
“What? You’d prefer I do a little Riverdance?”
That image made me laugh. “I’d pay cold, hard cash to see you Riverdance.” I peered at him sideways. “You owe me.” He cocked his eyebrow and waited for my question. “Are there really a hundred shades of green in Ireland?”
“Aye,” he said softly. “But not as many shades of green as in your eyes.” A sweet heartbeat of time passed. Then we both chuckled at his corniness. Finn’s cheeks reddened, but maybe it was the chill of the rainy night. “My charming Irish banter’ll be needing some work, I reckon.”
“It’s okay. Charming banter is a fine art, one I definitely haven’t mastered. We can practice on each other.”
“How will I know if I’m improving?” he asked.
“I don’t know… I’ll swoon, maybe?”
“Okay, but do I have to swoon when you get it right? I don’t know if it’s manly to swoon.”
Easy laughter bubbled up from us again.
My dad’s car idled up ahead. “Oh, there’s my dad. See you Monday.”
Instead of walking to his own car, Finn kept pace beside me. Before I could give an introduction, he stuck his hand through the open driver’s side window and introduced himself to my father. His confidence and manners were charming. My neck warmed.
“You’re Irish,” my dad said, more an awkward accusation than a question.
I threw my bag in the backseat and got in. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You bet. Cheers.” He began to walk away but turned back. “Sir, would it be all right with you if I asked Cora to the movies tomorrow?”
Holy…
“Sorry, no.”
There was an excruciating blink of surprise from Finn. I stared at his hand, which squeezed the window frame tighter while he stared at my father, both of us waiting uncomfortably for an explanation. When it became clear that one wouldn’t come, Finn forced cheer into his voice. “Some other time, then.”
Dad drove out of the parking lot. His hands clenched the wheel at ten and two.
“What was that?” I asked.
“That boy is Irish.”
“I know, Dad. Last I checked, that’s not a crime.” I couldn’t believe he had pulled a boy-block on me like that.
After a few tense moments, he let out a breath and smiled weakly. “We haven’t had to talk about dating before. But I think it’s time to establish some rules.”
“Oh God. No, Dad. It’s not time, okay? Finn gave me a ride because…” I nearly told my father about the man who’d been following me. Maybe then he’d see it was safer to finally let me drive. Then again, he’d have a whole new reason to be paranoid and overprotective. “…because it was raining and you won’t let me get my driver’s license. It’s no big deal.”
“I would be an irresponsible father if I didn’t lay down the ground rules before the need arises.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “What’s rule number one? No dating until I’m twenty?”
“Objection. Conjecture.” He tried to sound light. I watched his jaw clench. “Eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” My heart rate matched the click-click of the turn signal. Eighteen was a year away. “’Cause I can’t possibly be trusted to make good judgments about who to go to the movies with? When are you going to have some confidence in me? You never let me have any freedom. You won’t let me drive. You totally blew me off when I tried to tell you something is definitely not right with my eyes. You’re being irrational about the aura thing. You never tell me anything about my own mother, even when I ask you direct questions. In the hospital, Janelle said—”
“She’s gone. That’s it. There is nothing more to say about your mother.”
“You know, the more you say that, the less I believe you. Why don’t you trust me?”
He parked in the driveway and turned toward me. “I do trust you.”
“No, Dad.” I shook my head. “Not real trust. It’s easy to say you trust a bird in a cage.”
Seven
The next day, I woke with solid intent. I had to go back to Say Chi’s and ask Faye how I could arrange for a Kirlian photograph of my silver aura. I needed evidence of what I was seeing. Also, if having a silver aura was so rare and evil people were looking for someone like me, Faye might have a crystal like hers that could block people from seeing it.
My body buzzed with nervous anticipation, and my mind hungered for more information. Unfortunately, my dad and Janelle had also awoken with an intention—to keep me as busy as possible with inane chores.
I finished vacuuming well after lunch, all the while my insides churned and my patience strained. Since I had bookended the previous day with fights with my dad, the lie about going to work at the Boys & Girls Club fell easily from my lips. Janelle smiled conspiratorially at me, and I knew my father had told her about Finn asking for a date. She assumed I was going to meet him, but after my father’s rudeness, I wondered if Finn would even talk to me again. It seemed strange after having just a few encounters, but if there were no more, it’d feel like I lost something.
I returned to the old downtown section of Santa Cruz. The afternoon sun slanted over the roofs of the stores, casting long shadows on the narrow street. I bought one of my favorite treats—a cinnamon roll—and tried to shove my anxiety down as I walked past the eclectic stores, the sculptures of dogs made from river rock, and groups of teens who sat with their backs against the storefronts playing guitars for spare change.