Thief Eyes - Janni Lee Simner [55]
Ari kicked a patch of moss at the side of the road. “It’s still dangerous. If I get angry as a bear, it’s worse than as a human.”
“This whole mess we’re in is dangerous.” I glanced at Ari’s hands. His palms were still very faintly red where I’d burned him. “If anyone should be worried about being dangerous, it’s me.”
Ari scowled. “That’s not the same thing.”
“No.” I let the rock fall. “Because you can’t bring buildings down with your magic. Maybe you were right to run away.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Ari said.
“I won’t if you won’t.” I drew a breath. “You know, if we can’t fix the memory thing, I won’t run home to America when this is all done. I won’t leave you alone here.”
Ari shrugged uncomfortably. “You don’t have to stay because you feel sorry for me.”
“Idiot!” I almost kicked him. “I wouldn’t stay because I felt sorry for you.” He didn’t want to kiss me—he might even be right about that—but that didn’t mean we weren’t friends, or that being friends wasn’t important. “I won’t abandon you.” Not when you’re a bear, and not when you’re human, either. “Jared would agree, you know.”
“That you should stay here with me instead of him?” Ari laughed. “I doubt that.”
“That friends don’t abandon each other,” I said sharply.
A truck rumbled along the road behind us. We moved onto the shoulder as it passed. Wind blew the grasses at our feet and rippled the surface of the fjord. Ari jammed his hands into his pockets as we walked on. “The thing is,” he said slowly, “if it turns out I change every night, with or without the jacket? Even if we fix everyone’s memories, I have a problem then. Hard to go to college as a bear—never mind getting a job or playing gigs.”
Maybe you could stick to matinees. That wouldn’t work in Iceland, though, where the winter days were as short as the summer nights. “You could migrate. Like an arctic tern.” I stifled a giggle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke.”
“Of course you should joke.” Ari shook his white hair out of his eyes. “Hey, I could be the first polar bear at the South Pole. Go visit the penguins. What do you think?”
“I think there are no penguins at the South Pole, only at the coast.” I laughed, and Ari laughed, too. I pulled the granola from my pack, and we ate it as we continued on. We veered away from the water for a bit, then turned left, leaving the main road behind. A harbor town came into view below us. The bright red-and blue-roofed houses reminded me of my run through Reykjavik, what seemed a lifetime ago.
We came to a small gas station. Wind whistled through its broken windows, and the door swung open on its hinges. I rubbed my bare arms, though the wind still didn’t seem cold to me. How far away had the earthquake been felt?
A girl and boy on bicycles circled around the parking lot while a woman stood nearby, talking into a cell phone. Across the road, I saw more emergency vehicles beside a huge orange tent. A few people sat in lawn chairs by the tent, talking quietly. Down toward the harbor, I saw smaller tents in some of the yards, as well as more people talking in the streets. It didn’t look like anyone was hurt, but the hurt people wouldn’t have been standing around outside, would they?
“This is my fault,” I said.
Ari gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Not only yours. Come on, let’s see if we can find a bus schedule.” He started toward the gas station door.
The boy on the bicycle headed the same way, not seeing us. We quickly stepped out of his path, but then the bicycle hit a rock, and he tumbled to the ground.
Ari and I ran to his side, even as the girl stopped pedaling. I reached for the boy to help him up. He flinched as if burned, burst into tears, and ran wailing to the woman. She flipped her phone closed and stroked his hair.
The girl sat on her bicycle, balanced on her toes. She looked right at us. I smiled, even though she couldn’t see us.
She smiled back. “Are you ghosts?” she asked solemnly.
I started.