There were many ways to describe Arizona summers. But one thing for sure- they were hot. Or, hotter than the ones in Portugal.
I swept a tear of sweat off my face and fiddled with the cheap handheld fan I purchased at the Flagstaff Airport. I flicked the switched several times and grunted when there was no reaction. Piece of junk.
“Dammit.” I hissed under my breath.
“Problem, miss?” The cab driver called.
“It’s nothing.” I replied, tossing the fan back into my bag.
He flashed me a crooked grin in the smudged rearview mirror. His capped silver tooth glinted in the sunlight, which made me slightly uneasy. I shriveled back into to the torn pleather seats and nudged my sunglasses farther up my nose.
A bent metal “Welcome to Kayenta” sign greeted me a couple minutes later. I gulped. Oh how much I dreaded this. The heat, the streets, the miles and miles of moisture-free air. Everything so non-exotic. So… normal.
And that was when we turned onto Emery Lane, and the anxiety decided to kick in. Sweat trickled down neck and I began to blink rapidy, groaning. I gagged and fished into my bag for the pills. Dr. Claude was right. I really should stop avoiding them. As I popped the ivory tablets onto my tongue, I hacked in distate. Sour.
“Miss?” The driver said.
“What is it?”
“We’re here.”
I peered out the window and sighed. All I could get out was “Oh.”
The driver practically threw my luggage to the curve and sped off without a tip. I swiveled around to face the house, expecting there to be renovations or at least orchids in the flower beds like Zoria had insisted. But everything looked as if time had frozen the grand victorian. It was completely and utterly untouched. The emerald lawn was still perfectly manicured, with the tiny tuft of uncut grass near the porch still hidden. The old diseased willow tree looming over the creek still standing, with Amber and I’s initialed carved into the peeling bark. Even the brass doorknob to the front door remained unpolished.
I knocked on the door. “Zoria!” I hollered, “Zoria?”
A rhythm of footsteps pitter pattered down the staircase. The door squealed open with Zoria’s beaming face in it’s place.
“Bianca!” she cried, enveloping me into an incredibly sticky hug. I forced a smile. “How are you?”
“Sweaty.” I nodded.
“I'm so glad to have you back! Things have been too quiet around here, way too quiet" She rambled, "It's good to see you home again."
"Yeah, I was starting to miss this place." I looked into her ecstatic hazel eyes and swallowed anxiously. That was the first lie of many waiting to be told.
I wanted to be excited to come home after nearly a year of portuguese boarding school, but every ounce of gut feeling inside of me churned in insecurity, like something felt wrong. I tried to ignore the brewing emotions, and motioned that I was going to head upstairs to unpack.
I shuffled away to the powder room and felt her eyes follow me down the corridor. As soon as I rounded the corner I bolted to the back staircase and scurried to the 3rd floor. I slid into the main office and removed the faux ceiling panels hiding the lattch. With a heavy yank, the rusted trap door on the ceiling swung open revealing the cobwebby steps leading to the attic. I glanced over my shoulder making sure Zoria’s nosy self wasn’t stalking me and climbed the steps, each one with it’s own unique creak. Reaching the top, I frantically looked around to find the book. It had to still be here. I remembered the blood-red cover and that it was eerily thick. A Christmas Carol was the name by that famous guy Charles Dickens. I brushed by palm over the east bookcase and began to fling books to the ground in panic.
No no no no no no where was it? I’d kept it hidden since last October, there was no way Zoria could’ve touched it. She hasn’t faced this place for over a decade, something about it “Reminding her of Dad’s death.” No one else had knowledge of besides.... Ryann. Furiosity churned in my stomach like molten lava. Looks like the little ray of sunshine wasn’t so innocent after all.
“Bianca!” Zoria’s voice chirped, shattering my train of thought, “Someone’s here to see you.”
I froze. “Can it wait?”
A melodic chuckle rung it the air. Not any voice I recognized.
I cautiously hopped back down the stairs, sealed the trapdoor shut, and made my way down to the kitchen.
A familiar figure sat at the table sipping coffee.
“Amber?” I said in disbelief. She whipped her head around and her piercing crystal blue eyes met mine. But this was not the Ryann I had known ten months ago. Her eyes were disguised with black makeup, her floral skirts and knit sweaters replaced with studded combat boots and a black leather jacket. The lipstick she was sporting dark and vampy, replacing the usual shimmery gloss. Her dirty blond locks had morphed into spunky ponytail. And the amount of metal hanging from her ears could supply a family of hookers.
“What’s with the new get up?” I smirked.
“Your favorite barbie doll has grown up.” She grinned slyly, “Welcome back.”
“So what brings you here?” I asked.
She scoffed. “What brings you here, Bianca?”
“Oh, uh.” I pursed my lips, “I got tired of trying to learn portuguese.”
She arched an eyebrow. Busted.
"I have unfinished business." I muttered.
Amber eyed me warily but accepted the explaination. “Listen, I wasn’t gonna say anything but there’s a little gathering in Huntington woods tonight. By the bonfire pit. It seems like you could… get out a little bit.”
“Ouch.” I laughed humorlessly, “Maybe I’ll show up.”
Her phone buzzed twice, and the screen flickered to show a call from “Leona”. She flicked the phone aside without even paying it a glance.
“Aren’t you gonna get that?” I questioned.
She rolled her eyes. “Not if it’s Leona and her preggo self.”
“Wait Leona as in Leona Stevens? No way.” I shook my head. “She’d never.”
“Believe it. The little virgin princess is now 15 and pregnant.” Amber confirmed.
“What is wrong with everyone?” I murmured under my breath.
She chuckled dryly. "Save it, Bianca."
Slowly, I lifted my chin toward the door. "I have to unpack. You know the way out."
Her jaw ever so slightly stiffened yet she sashayed out without a complaint. An hour back in Kayenta and I was already wishing I had skipped my flight back to Arizona and was sipping gourmet soup in a little portuguese cafè on the corner near the estate.
As I pondered my existence, sunlight grazed something shiny under the table. I peered down at Ryann's glittering silver ear cuff on the ground and bent down to scoop it up. My thumb pinch the chain and suddenly my whole hand began to burn inside. I yelped and let it clatter to the ground.
"What the hell?" My fingertips were coal black for a few seconds, then morphed back into there original caramel color.
