The Elementals by Francesca Lia Block

Author:Francesca Lia Block
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-10-15T22:00:00+00:00

18. If you partake of the food of fae can you ever leave?

John Graves and Perry and Tania did drive me to Los Angeles for spring break. They picked me up at the already nearly deserted dorm late at night and we took the highway, riding fast so the lights blurred, loud music—a mix of industrial, punk, gothic and the mysterious stuff they played at home—making the dashboard vibrate. The air got warmer as we traveled south. I opened the window and let the wind run its fingers through my hair. I smelled scents animal, vegetable, mineral and poisonous. There was a queasy feeling in the base of my belly. I wasn’t sure what it meant, though I could have called it fear, but fear mixed with hope. Maybe John was right; Jeni was still gone but I had not given up on her yet and my mother was still alive. Who was to say she couldn’t stay that way for a long time still?

They dropped me off at my house. The eucalyptus-lined street was dark and quiet except for the crickets chirping wildly in the bushes, seeking their mates.

“You have a good home,” Tania mused, surveying it. “Good parents who love you. You’re luckier than you realize.”

“We’ll call you tomorrow night,” John said.

They’d told me they’d be staying with friends but that was all I knew. Tania and Perry leaned over from the backseat and kissed my cheeks.

“Blessings, Sylph,” she said.

John got out of the car and hauled my bags from the trunk. He carried them up to the front door. I wished we weren’t illuminated (illumined was a better word) in the spotlight of the front porch like that, where everyone could see—Tania and Perry in the car, my parents inside, if they were watching. John hugged me quickly and then ran down the steps, the path, out the gate back to the car.

My parents hadn’t waited up, which surprised me, but only at first, since I was getting used to this different behavior from them. There was a note on the kitchen table telling me they had tried to wait up but had finally gone to bed and that there was some soup in the refrigerator. I heated up a bowl. It was watery and thin; I was sure my dad had made it. I poured most of it down the sink, then went up to my room, got in bed in my clothes and went to sleep.

The next day I spent sitting on my mom’s bed with her, reading my term papers out loud and watching The Red Shoes, which was one of our favorite old movies (and Jeni’s). The girl on the screen danced and danced while outside in the garden the jacaranda trees were blooming with purple flowers that seemed surprised at their own intense color and concerned about their brief life span, and the sunlight shifted through the feathery leaves. My mom still looked fragile and pale and seemed distracted but she told

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