Breadcrumbs - Anne Ursu [30]
The witch looked down at him and smiled, and he knew he would do anything to earn that smile. “No. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
“And my friends?”
“They will be fine without you,” she said.
“I think I’m cold.”
“My poor boy,” she said. “Come here.” In a swift motion she tucked him into her furs, and it was like being wrapped in snow. He could not tell if he was warmer or if he just didn’t notice the cold as much, but it did not matter. She was taking care of him, even though he was nothing. And she was happy, too—she laughed and kissed his forehead like his mother used to do when she tucked him in at night. It had been a long time since she had done that.
When her lips touched his skin, he sucked in an involuntary, desperate breath and a weight slammed into his chest. His body seized up as a great shudder overtook him, and somewhere in his young mind he knew it was like death.
And then in a blink everything at his center was at peace, and he could not remember if any of it had happened at all. It would have been a strange thing to happen. He smiled at the witch, who ran a cool hand across his cheek and gave him one more kiss.
“Now you may have no more kisses,” the witch said, “or I’ll kiss you to death!”
And they drove on. He felt the cold less and less, and everything else, too. He did not know if they were still in the forest or flying through the sky. They were both, somehow. He remembered, distantly, the life he had before this. It seemed a funny sort of thing, like a joke with a forgotten punch line.
By the time they came to her palace, he felt nothing at all.
Chapter Ten
Slush
Hazel spent the rest of the weekend glancing out the window, but she never saw any signs of life at Jack’s house. His mother always kept the shades drawn now, so Hazel could see nothing inside. She never heard his garage door open or the car go out. The house seemed as dark and closed up as Jack was.
When Hazel woke up on Monday morning, dread slammed into her like a oncoming truck. She did not want to go to school. She considered pretending to be sick, but her mom would never buy it. Hazel could see the whole conversation play out in her head—I know it’s hard, honey, but sometimes we have to do hard things in life. Even if she were actually sick, her mother wouldn’t believe her. She could be seriously ill, she could be doubled over with an exploded appendix, and her mother would say that sometimes we have to do hard things in life and that she had to face Jack eventually anyway, so she might as well do it with an exploded appendix.
At least Jack wasn’t in her class. What seemed a tragedy in the beginning of the year was now a blessing. She would just go through the rest of the year not talking to anyone. She could read during recess, that would be okay. She had a lot of books to read. It would just be like she was a leper, and leprosy really wasn’t so bad once you made it part of your routine.
She couldn’t get out of school, but there was one thing she absolutely could not face this morning. So as soon as her mother entered the kitchen that morning, Hazel asked:
“Mom? Will you drive me to school today?”
“Why? . . . Oh.” Her face fell. “Honey, I just can’t. I’m so sorry, I have a call.” She squeezed Hazel’s shoulder. “I know it’s going to be hard, but you have to face Jack sometime. It might as well be today. And . . . you can sit with someone else on the bus! You can show him you don’t need him.”
Hazel did not understand. Her mom kept going on and on about how this kind of thing happens all the time. But apparently it had never happened to her.
“Okay. Thanks, Mom.”
So Hazel lingered by the front door as long as she possibly could, then, after some nudging from her mother, trudged out to the bus stop. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she passed Jack’s house. A wraith struck her with its death-touched blade and the poison caused her heart to go cold. She could feel nothing, and above all she absolutely could not cry. She could not cry.
It had gotten warmer