Sparked by Helena Echlin

Author:Helena Echlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkshares
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

21.

IVY HAD ANOTHER PART-TIME JOB doing alterations at Second Act, the vintage store that our mom’s friend Poppy ran on Miner Street. On Tuesdays, which was the one day of the week when Skye didn’t have any of her community college classes, the two of us usually tagged along, keeping Ivy company in the back room where she sewed. Poppy would make us into her guinea pigs, getting us to taste the new flavors of homemade kombucha that she brewed to sell at the farmer’s market, and we’d drink so much that we’d get tipsy (or maybe it was just a sugar high).

Even though I always looked forward to Tuesday afternoons, it hadn’t crossed my mind to go without Ivy. Since Skye knew that she was gone, I wasn’t sure what she was doing in the parking lot, waiting for me as usual. She took off her bagel-sized headphones when she saw me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to walk over to Second Act?” she said. “I mean, I know Ivy’s in Portland, but I thought that if you don’t have any other plans, it might be nice to hang out a little bit, and I’ll bet Poppy would be happy to see us.”

I’d been planning to go to Headmaster House to talk to Jasper, but I didn’t feel comfortable sharing this with Skye. “I don’t know,” I said. It seemed like such a pointless detour. I was going to make some excuse when I realized that I might find some clue at Second Act. Ivy had been spending more time than usual there recently, working on a rush job for a client of Poppy’s. I didn’t have much hope, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to explore any possibility. Poppy was like an aunt to both of us, but she and Ivy were especially close, since they spent countless hours hunched over their sewing projects, side by side in that back room. Maybe Ivy had shared something with her that could be useful.

“I guess we could drop by for half an hour,” I said.

Since Second Act was just a few blocks from school, I threw my backpack into the van, then locked it up again and walked alongside Skye, hurrying through the rain, which was quickly turning from a sprinkle to a downpour. I soon regretted deciding to walk. As we rushed to the store, Skye told me that she’d been working on my birthday mix. “I thought I’d kick it off with an old classic. What do you think of this?” She tapped her phone and played Michael’s Jackson’s “Thriller.”

Night creatures call, and the dead start to walk in their masquerade….

“Great,” I said with a shiver, tucking my icy hands into my armpits.

Skye studied me. “What’s up with the monosyllables?”

“Sorry. I just don’t have that much to say,” I said, thinking: not much that you’d believe.

“Huh,” she said. ’Cause I saw you and that new guy chatting away after lunch. It looked like you were having quite the intense dialogue.

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