Echo Soul Seekers

of activities she’d never approve of.
    “I got a room in town.” She taps her thumb against the cup, the silver ring I gave her for Mother’s Day making a dull, clanging sound.
    “There are rooms in town?” I squint, trying to imagine who would possibly stay in one. Who would choose to visit Enchantment and, once here, actually stay the night?
    “Trust me, it’s not much.”
    She picks at her hair, the bleached-blond strands appearing far more golden than the extreme platinum I remember. And her skin, normally as pale as mine, is now ever so slightly tanned. Must be the LA effect—the result of residing full time in the Golden State where the sun always shines.
    Or at least that’s what I think until I notice the faint row of lines crossing her forehead and realize she’s not nearly as settled as I thought. She may have a permanent address and a permanent place of employment for the first time in a long time, but it’s been a tough year, with too many changes to count. And not all of those changes were good.
    Sometimes I forget just how hard it’s been for Jennika to not only watch me deal with the kind of things she can’t understand—and really doesn’t want to—but to also leave me in the care of a woman she doesn’t really know all that well.
    She worries.
    She means well.
    And the longer she stays, the more I’ll have to remind myself of that.
    “I didn’t want to impinge on you and Paloma,” she continues. “But now I’m thinking maybe I should.”
    Great . I stare at my tea, as she stares at me. Once again, her timing couldn’t be worse. She must have some crazy maternal instinct that tells her just the right moment to interfere. Nothing else explains it.
    “So, now that I’ve answered your question, it’s time for you to answer mine. What’s going on with you and school? Why weren’t you there today, when other than your inexplicable wet hair, you seem fine to me? Where were you and Paloma anyway? What’s going on, Daire?”
    I look to Paloma to save me, but she’s returned to the stove. Her back turned toward us as she focuses on food prep.
    Deciding to answer her barrage of questions as a whole, I say, “I needed a mental health day, so Paloma took me on a field trip. Said a little time spent outdoors would do me good.” I shrug. It’s as good an answer as any and as close to the truth as I can afford.
    “What do you mean, mental health day ? Are the visions back?” Jennika’s face pales, remembering the hallucinations that landed me here. But I’m quick to wave it away, reluctant to revisit that topic again.
    “No. Nothing like that. I just … well, school’s a whole new experience for me, as you know, and it’s been a bit of an adjustment, that’s all.”
    “Is this about that boy?” She frowns, her face darkening as the diamond stud in her nose twitches and winks.
    “By that boy, I’m assuming you mean Dace?” I narrow my gaze on hers. Knowing full well she remembers his name.
    “Dace Whitefeather, yes. So—is it? Did something happen between you?”
    I lean back in my seat, not really wanting to discuss this but also knowing she won’t let it go quite so easily. Jennika’s a pit bull. She’ll gladly sit here all night waiting for the answer she seeks. She can be unbelievably stubborn. I know because she’s the one who taught me to be unbelievably stubborn too.
    I sigh, already dreading her reaction. I admit, “We’re not really together at the moment. We’re taking a break.”
    “A break?” She cocks her head as a look of suspicion crosses her face.
    “A short break.” I nod. Inwardly rolling my eyes at myself, knowing that to her ears that hardly makes it any better or any more believable.
    “And whose decision was this—to take this short break ?” She folds her hands before her, waiting for me to spill the whole grisly tale.
    I take a deep breath, wanting to say it was mine, but she’ll never believe it. She knows me too well. She’ll sense the lie the instant it passes my lips. So I go with the truth—or at least a partial truth. “His. It was his idea.” Unable to resist adding, “Happy now?” Knowing full well that she is. She loves being right. Most people do.
    She splays her hands on either side of her cup, unable to keep the self-satisfied glint from sneaking onto her face. “A short break—and so close to Christmas—how charming.” She shakes her head, taps her cobalt-blue polished nails hard against the tabletop.