When You Were Everything by Ashley Woodfolk

Author:Ashley Woodfolk [Woodfolk, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

AURAS

Sydney is holding a creamy-looking bubble tea and a sunset-colored one too when I meet her in Chinatown. She’s wearing a faux fur coat, sunglasses, and big pearly earrings, and she looks a bit like she could be an extra in an Audrey Hepburn movie, which is to say she stands out quite a bit on the littered, grubby sidewalks of downtown Manhattan.

“Hey, girl,” she says. She hands me the creamy tea and loops her arm through mine, and her familiarity makes my heart squeeze. “What’s on the docket tonight?”

So far, Sydney and I have done a photo shoot at the coffee shop Layla and I would stop by every morning, beat the high score on as many games as possible at the arcade Layla and I used to frequent in middle school, and ordered milkshakes as big as our heads with ridiculous toppings at the divey burger joint Layla took me to for my fifteenth birthday. We drank them so quickly we got brain freeze, and then we raced to see who could finish the crazy toppings—like cheesecake, M&M’s, and brownies—first.

Tonight, a particular corner in Chinatown is on the itinerary: a tiny jewelry store that is more well known for its aura readings and crystals than the necklaces and bracelets they sell, at least among believers in that kind of thing.

“Gigi first took me here when I was ten,” I tell Sydney as we push open the shop door. It’s tiny inside, and it smells a bit like a library, which is comforting to me for obvious reasons. “Gigi was really into all of this kind of stuff—chakras and horoscopes, auras and fate. She was always saying to listen when the universe is trying to tell you something. She got her aura read once a month, and every now and then she’d bring me with her. Then, after she died, I brought Layla whenever I came. But she was never that into it. I think it’s haram, so maybe that’s why.”

There’s a small line, so I explain how it works to Sydney while we wait. “You sit over there,” I say, pointing to a red stool with two hand-shaped panels on either side of it. “They take your photo, and then when it develops, you’ll be able to see what color your aura is. They tell you what it all means.”

Sydney unlinks her arm from mine and walks around the small shop, smoothing her hands over all the huge chunks of rose quartz. She bends down to look through glass cases at dozens of tiny rough pieces of amethyst, smooth stones of jade and jasper, and even asks to try on a turquoise necklace.

“This is the best place you’ve taken me, Cleo. For real. It’s amazing.”

I nod. “I know,” I say, feeling myself slip into remembering the last time I was in Chinatown with Layla. We didn’t even come here, but the sadness can leak into every little crevice of my mind if I let it.

“I was just at Dolly’s,” I tell Sydney, eager to think of something happy.

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