Soured Honey

Chapter Two

After a morning of texting back and forth, arguing about why I should skip school, Asher had left his house, leaving his parents to believe he left for school, and met me at my own house. I greeted him at my front door and we decided to stay in for a while so when we went back to his home, his parents wouldn't catch us.
To pass the time, I ask him about what he needed to show me. But Asher, the tight lipped and annoying person he is, refused to share any information about the topic. What a jerk. He wanted to me to skip school for this, now he won't even tell me what it is.
After an hour passed, Asher and I agreed that it would probably be safe for us to go back to his house. I lock the doors, and we start in the direction to Asher's home— a quaint one-story house with pale blue shutters complementing the light gray paint. Within a couple minutes of walking, we arrive to find his mother's car parked in the short driveway.
"We waited an hour. Why are they still home?" I ask. "Shouldn't they have gone to take the twins to daycare yet?"
Asher looks as confused as I feel. "They all must've taken my dad's car. But I want to look inside, just in case."
Asher and I crept our way alongside of the house and up to the front window, so if his parents were in fact inside, they couldn't see us. Asher craned his neck and peeked inside the window that allowed a view of the front hallway and part of the living room.
"Shoot!" He curses. "They're still here. We need to hide before they see us."
Before I'm granted the chance to respond, Asher grabs my arm and pushes me into the nearby tool shed. He follows inside, pulling the door shut and closing us in and the light out. It's a small space and as Asher joins inside, the space gets even smaller, us now less than only a few inches away from being pushed together. I can just barely see his outline and the space smells of rust and mold.
"What are you doing?" I snap. "Why did you shove me in here? And why does it smell so bad?"
"They're only leaving now." He's close enough that I can feel his breath on my face.
"Why aren't they already gone?"
"Maya and Bailey must've given them a hard time this morning."
"It's so cramped in here. Can't you back up?" I ask.
"I'm right against a shelf," he replies.
"Fine. I'll move then, you giant."
"No, wait—," he starts.
I take a step back, not listening,
and I bump into a shelf. The unbalanced boxes carelessly placed on the top of the self start to fall and a cloud of dust cascades off of them. Asher reaches up and catches them. He tries to push them back in place, but only causes more displacement, and is stuck holding them up— while I'm pinned between him and the shelf.
"You should've warned me earlier," I huff, trying to squirm out of my position. Now he's so close that I can feel his heartbeat against my own chest.
"Oh, shut up. You should've looked before you started backing up," he barks back.
"It's too dark! I can't see anything. And you're squishing me."
"Well it's either I squish you or I let these boxes fall on your head and allow the noise to let my parents know we're in here."
"I'd rather have the boxes fall on me. And it's your fault. You're the one who shoved me in here—"
"Shhh!" he hisses. "My mom is going to hear your big mouth if you don't be quiet."
I huff and do as he says, not wanting to obey him but also not wanting to get caught either. I breath in and inhale the scent of lavender laundry detergent on Asher's shirt. It's all I can smell with him being so close, but I'm not at all complaining about that. It's a refreshing break from the musty stench of the tool shed.
A few silent seconds pass by, and I hear the screen door to the house squeak open. I listen to Maya and Bailey's thundering footsteps as they pass by the tool shed to the car. Mrs. Hendrickson calls after them and I can see her shadow through the small crack underneath the door. I freeze, and I can feel Asher do the same. We wait a few moments for the sound of the car driving away and for the hum of the engine to fade away.
Sure that the coast is clear, I reach out and open the door. As Asher is continues to struggle with the boxes, I wriggle out of my position and away from him, finally able to move again.
"Can you help me with these boxes?" Asher pleads.
"Hmm," I tilt my head, tapping my index finger against my lips coyly, a slight smile playing my lips. "Do I really want to?"
He gives me an annoyed look. "Please, Honey?"
"Fine. But you'll owe five dollars." I say as I stand on my toes and help him push the boxes back onto the shelf.
We exit the tool shed and sneak inside the house through Asher's bedroom window, his mother having locked the door before she left. As I shimmy through Asher's window after him, I'm met with the smell of the cotton scented air freshener that's plugged into the eggshell-white painted wall next to a tall lamp in the corner. Asher's room is surprisingly clean, unlike any other boy I've met. His dresser is neat and orderly, and there's no dirty clothes or trash thrown across the carpeted floor.
I plop down into the chair at the desk next to Asher's bed. "So," I urge. "Why am I here?"
"You probably won't like me very much after today, Chocolate Chip," he stalls, clearly nervous and uncomfortable.
"What makes you think I like you now?" I say jokingly. "Just show me what you need to show me so I can go back home and stuff my face with ice cream."
He sighs. "Yes, ma'am." With a solemn expression, he ventures over to the door and with his right hand, crosses his index and middle finger and taps on the center of the door three times. He then follows this with uncrossing his fingers and scratching the same spot twice. He looks absolutely ridiculous— what the heck is he doing?
"What are you doing, Ash?" I demand. "It looks like you're summoning a demon through some type of cultic ritual."
"I'm not summoning a demon," he replies. "I'm opening a door. Now please be quiet so I can finish."
His serious expression and tone of voice while he says something so ridiculous confuses me, but also scares me. He's never acted this way before. Is something wrong? Why would he act so seriously about a few taps and scratches on a door?
Asher turns back to the door and continues his strange series of scrapes and taps, and I watch on in silence. I'm not one to stay quiet for very long— especially when I could be making some kind of sarcastic comment or joke— but I decide to respect Asher, no matter how weird his actions are. This "opening a door" procedure seems important to him, and he always respects what's important to me, so I guess I have to do the same for him.
After a moment, I realize that the door is glowing, and Asher takes a step back.
"What the—" I shriek and jump up, going over to Asher. "Ash, what is that? What did you do?"
He gives me a reassuring look but doesn't reply. Soon the door is glowing which such a bright and powerful light that I have to look away and shield my eyes. Asher stands beside me, also turning away from the light, but seems to be staying calm— unlike me. A few panicked heartbeats later, the glow starts to subside and I turn back to look. Where Asher's old door used to be, a large gold door with gold, sparkling engravings and hinges stood in its place.
It looked like a doorway to heaven.
"Asher," I say, my voice shaking and small. "What the HECK did you just do?"
"I opened a door," he replies, remaining eerily calm.
"A door to where? What happened to your door?" I demand, my voice growing.
"A door to Aevyn. I cast the spell that replaced my bedroom door with a door to Aevyn."
I stare at him, dumbfounded. What in the world is Aevyn? What spell? Where did his door go?
"Speak in English, please. What is Aevyn? Why—? How—?" I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Just, please explain everything."
"Aevyn is magic. And before you argue with me that magic isn't real— just listen. From the beginning of time, there has always been three realms: The Above, Earth and the universe you know about; The In Between, Aevyn; and The Below, the realm of demons. Aevyn and the mages that live there are what separates regular humans from demons, who want to destroy all of humanity. And the demons could very easily kill off all of the human race if it weren't for the mages who fight to stop them.
"Long ago, when demons had easy access to Earth, a small group of people discovered that they had been blessed with powers and magic. They then used those powers to keep the demons at bay, traveling through realms to Aevyn so they could keep the non-gifted humans safe from war with the demons.
"But as soon as the gifted mages left Earth, a few who had stayed behind noticed that everyone had become depressed and chaotic— nothing was pleasant anymore. They soon realized that the powers were connected to humanity's emotions, and that the gifted had to be around to keep humanity safe from their own negative emotions. So, mages started traveling between realms, some staying in Aevyn to fight off demons and others leaving to Earth to keep joy and happiness.
"For generations, this is how the world worked. The Above never knowing about The In Between or The Below. My family is a part of Aevyn's mages. So are a few others you may have met." He paused, holding my gaze. "Your family is, too, Chocolate Chip."
I stare at him, barely able to comprehend what he had just told me. I don't even know if I want to comprehend it. Demons? Powers? The In Between? It all sounds like something out of a book or a movie. And my family is a part of this In Between? Does that mean that my dad has powers? Did my mom? Do I?
Before I could ask him any of the thousand questions I have spinning around in my head, he continues. "That's where your dad is now. He's in Aevyn, helping fight the demons. There's been some trou—"
That's it. That's when I explode.
"You know where my dad is?" I shout. "You knew and you didn't tell me? How could you not tell me?"
My scalp burns with how angry I am. My best friend knew where my father was when he went missing and didn't tell me until he decided to tell me some story about some magical place called The In Between. I ball my hands into tight fists.
Asher looks truly remorseful. Like he really feels bad for not telling me. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, really I did."
"No! If you wanted to tell me you would have."
I begin berate Asher for not telling me, but not even a moment later his sullen expression turns into one of pure terror. "Honey," he says and points to my hair with a shaky hand.
"What," I demand, digging my nails into my palms. I feel a sudden pain where I dig my nails into my hand and look down to see a crimson liquid seeping between my fingers. I unclench my hand and see four crescent-shaped gashes in my palms and that my nails have grown at least two inches longer and razor sharp.
I look up, about to show Asher my hands, but I catch a glimpse of myself in his mirror and I scream at what I see.