retrieved my backpack from beneath the register. Laden with homework and humiliation, I avoided eye contact and threaded my way to the back. I had almost reached the book area when I spied a pair of munchkin-size feet sticking out from under the lavender-draped display table. As I neared, the feet, encased in ragged lace anklets and red, glittery Dorothy shoes, clicked together.
Isis, the seat-kicker from the plane. What was she doing here? Aside from a few children's books, wands, and the fairy display she hid under, there wasn't much in the store to attract young children. Where was her mother?
I scanned the people milling about the displays and book aisles. A teen couple sat on the floor, their bare knees touching through the rips in their jeans. They studied an oversized book, astrology maybe. An older woman in the Wicca section sniffed an incense stick. A chunky twenty-something in a low-cut peasant blouse and a long, too-tight skirt, flirted with Jett while she pretended to examine the jewelry display. Not a push-up bra or bleached blonde in sight. Isis's mother must be lurking in the bathroom or in one of the tarot reading rooms.
This is why I didn't read my gloom and doom almanac. It probably said something like: Welcome to Hell. Nothing will go right today.
Indecision paralyzed me. Hating myself for being über-responsible, I crouched down and said, "Isis."
She scuffled her feet under the table, hiding like a puppy caught with a stolen sneaker. A minute later, her head popped out from under the table drape. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me.
"I didn't do anything," she said, scrambling to her feet. Her grubby fingers sparkled with fine glitter, and a silver comet of the stuff was streaked across her right cheek. She probably had one of our fairy dust jars stashed beneath the table and maybe a wand as well, the little thief.
"Where's your mother?"
"She dropped me off. My brother is supposed to watch me."
A familiar pressure nudged between my shoulder blades. Dragon energy tingled down my arms. The spicy incense smells and cloying collision of candle odors gave way to the crisp, pure scent of deep-water lakes and forbidding mountain summits. My face warmed. I didn't dare glance up at the mural.
I cleared my throat. "Is your brother in the store?"
Isis nodded. "You're glowing. Like an angel."
"I walked too fast."
Isis tilted her head and stared at me. Her disbelieving expression told me she had an excellent crap detector. I shouldn't have been surprised. Look who she lived with.
"I have to go," I said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Isis twirled one of her curly blond locks around her forefinger. "I'm reading."
"Under the table? How can you see?"
She crawled back under the table and held up the drape with one hand while she used her other hand to press the button on a pink plastic wand. "They light up."
I wondered how many wands would be returned because she had drained the batteries. "Why don't you read out here where your brother can see you?"
"He's busy."
I glanced at the teen couple. The girl studied the oversized book. The boy was definitely busy — caressing the girl's arm and nuzzling her neck.
"Peek out once in a while so he knows where you are."
"Okay."
My eyes sought out Jett. He showed the goddess wannabe a silver necklace. You can have him, sister.
Sparks of dragon energy flared around me as I headed toward the mystery school. I sensed Isis's gaze on my back. My efforts to flee inconspicuously were ruined by the loud slap, slap, slap of my flip-flops. I approached the unisex bathroom, intent on washing Jett, Isis, and a meteor shower of humiliation and hurt from my hands. The doorknob was nearly in my grasp when the dragon energy swept me into the hall. Both reading room doors were closed. Signs hung on the doorknobs read, Quiet, please. Session in progress.
You'd think they were doing brain surgery. Still, I kicked off my flip-flops and carried them. My bare feet
Isis, the seat-kicker from the plane. What was she doing here? Aside from a few children's books, wands, and the fairy display she hid under, there wasn't much in the store to attract young children. Where was her mother?
I scanned the people milling about the displays and book aisles. A teen couple sat on the floor, their bare knees touching through the rips in their jeans. They studied an oversized book, astrology maybe. An older woman in the Wicca section sniffed an incense stick. A chunky twenty-something in a low-cut peasant blouse and a long, too-tight skirt, flirted with Jett while she pretended to examine the jewelry display. Not a push-up bra or bleached blonde in sight. Isis's mother must be lurking in the bathroom or in one of the tarot reading rooms.
This is why I didn't read my gloom and doom almanac. It probably said something like: Welcome to Hell. Nothing will go right today.
Indecision paralyzed me. Hating myself for being über-responsible, I crouched down and said, "Isis."
She scuffled her feet under the table, hiding like a puppy caught with a stolen sneaker. A minute later, her head popped out from under the table drape. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me.
"I didn't do anything," she said, scrambling to her feet. Her grubby fingers sparkled with fine glitter, and a silver comet of the stuff was streaked across her right cheek. She probably had one of our fairy dust jars stashed beneath the table and maybe a wand as well, the little thief.
"Where's your mother?"
"She dropped me off. My brother is supposed to watch me."
A familiar pressure nudged between my shoulder blades. Dragon energy tingled down my arms. The spicy incense smells and cloying collision of candle odors gave way to the crisp, pure scent of deep-water lakes and forbidding mountain summits. My face warmed. I didn't dare glance up at the mural.
I cleared my throat. "Is your brother in the store?"
Isis nodded. "You're glowing. Like an angel."
"I walked too fast."
Isis tilted her head and stared at me. Her disbelieving expression told me she had an excellent crap detector. I shouldn't have been surprised. Look who she lived with.
"I have to go," I said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Isis twirled one of her curly blond locks around her forefinger. "I'm reading."
"Under the table? How can you see?"
She crawled back under the table and held up the drape with one hand while she used her other hand to press the button on a pink plastic wand. "They light up."
I wondered how many wands would be returned because she had drained the batteries. "Why don't you read out here where your brother can see you?"
"He's busy."
I glanced at the teen couple. The girl studied the oversized book. The boy was definitely busy — caressing the girl's arm and nuzzling her neck.
"Peek out once in a while so he knows where you are."
"Okay."
My eyes sought out Jett. He showed the goddess wannabe a silver necklace. You can have him, sister.
Sparks of dragon energy flared around me as I headed toward the mystery school. I sensed Isis's gaze on my back. My efforts to flee inconspicuously were ruined by the loud slap, slap, slap of my flip-flops. I approached the unisex bathroom, intent on washing Jett, Isis, and a meteor shower of humiliation and hurt from my hands. The doorknob was nearly in my grasp when the dragon energy swept me into the hall. Both reading room doors were closed. Signs hung on the doorknobs read, Quiet, please. Session in progress.
You'd think they were doing brain surgery. Still, I kicked off my flip-flops and carried them. My bare feet
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