Page 12 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
Rynn and I were never close, but we ran in the same circles since there were few Fuzers at our school. Her locker-mate had dated my buddy, so we saw each other often, but Rynn was … well, she was everything. Images of her from ten years ago resurface. Her thick black eyeliner smeared into smoky shadows stretching across her temples. I had been absolutely terrified to talk to her: the most intense, clever person I’d ever met and ever will meet. To get her attention, I childishly dated girls she despised. My hope was she’d get so angry she’d confront me or curse me out … anything to get her to speak to me. I’d pray for the day she’d see how I was a fool for her. It never happened—not even when we were paired as lab partners. Anytime I was brave enough to glance her way, Rynn’s head was always down, hidden in the crevice of a book.
I clear my throat. “Okay, great. Now that we’ve established that you’re comfortable with me being here, I’m getting my damn cat back.”
I'll admit, I felt pretty out of place when I first stumbled into her shop earlier. It even took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the strange lighting—streams of purple-tinted sunlight had filtered through what looked like ancient stained glass windows.
At night, it has an even spookier vibe. The floorboards creak under my boots as I walk through, and there’s something about the air in here that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up—not in a bad way, just ... different.
The massive purple crystal chandeliers that hang from the exposed beams overhead must’ve taken a titan to attach to the ceiling. Then there are the shelves that look older than my grandmother, each overflowing with books. I swear the writing on their spines shifts when I don’t look directly at them.
In the back corner, there are plants flopping over the sides of pots—not the usual dried flowers you'd see in a gift shop, but proper herbs.
The whole place feels alive, like in the witchy movies, except Palooza isn’t trying to hide it. Marching around the display tables, I find myself in a back hallway. A soft light glows from under the crack of a door.
“Fine, go ahead,” Rynn mumbles behind me.
On the other side of the door is a set of stairs. My weight makes them all creak and groan as I run up.
“Goosie? Come here, boy.”
A large studio takes up the upstairs. In awe, I slowly survey Rynn’s home, or what technically might be considered a knitting factory. The back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows, while the other three are the original brick interior. Every surface is invaded by knitted items and yarn. “Woah,” I whisper, while taking in the soft furnishings and calming décor.
I scan the knitted curtains, knitted throw pillows, dish towels, and oven mitts. Then, in the corner, I spot spools of yarn in every color of the rainbow stacked in piles. This is a side of Rynn most people never see.
Goosie prances out from the only door, the bathroom, with tail pointed high. He shoves his head against Rynn’s leg. Traitor. I scan for the box of kittens that must be close, but Rynn seems to misinterpret my concern.
She rushes around, moving random items while accomplishing nothing. She laughs to herself quietly, hesitantly, then turns away. I can’t contain the surge of energy pulsing through my body. Oh, my sweet Goddess. Is Rynn Pozinne nervous? Because I’m here?
“Your home is …”
“Yeah, it’s a bit much,” she says quickly. “I use coupons for materials and a lot of the yarn is gifted, so I don’t actually spend too much on supplies. It’s a hobby.” She wrings her hands. “I didn’t used to own this much.”
“Hey.” I step towards her and use every restraint not to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s awesome. You’ll teach me how to knit something, right?”
She gapes. And I know I’ve hit my target.
“You want to learn to knit?”
“Sure, it’s like my grandpa always said: spend your time enjoying what you like doing with who you want as company. Those who don’t understand that won’t deserve a seat beside you.”
“And you enjoy knitting?” Her nose scrunches in that adorable way that sucks the air from my lungs.
I give her a look. She’s smart and will figure out what I mean.
As realization hits her, she flushes pink. I may have exploded internally. I’ve made Rynn blush? What is happening in this world? Has the tigress changed so drastically? Maybe I never knew her well at all. I’m even more eager to discover her. Like a map, all her undiscovered territories waiting to be claimed.
“This is the longest you’ve ever gone without saying a word,” she remarks sarcastically.
Right then, the moon sneaks out from behind the clouds and casts a glow on her skin. I’m at a loss for words, so I use my mom’s. “We all have a purpose: to make the world a better place. I bet you make others happy with your love of knitting.”
“I …”
A clatter comes from the side window, one encased by brick. Her eyes widen and flick to the window, then back at me. Immediately, my fists clench into balls.
“Someone climbed your fire escape ladder?”
“Don’t worry. Just hide.”
A blonde woman appears on the other side of the window, a bandage wrapped around her palm—a Fuzer. Rynn’s skittish energy seems like she’s anticipating something. Oh. It wasn’t me making her nervous at all, but rather the ‘meeting’ with this ‘customer.’ I have been wrong about many things in my twenty-nine years, but I never expected to be wrong about Rynn’s sexuality. She had only dated males in high school. Not that she dated much at all. I guess I was an idiot for assuming I still knew her. I need to slow this down, backtrack, and learn who she is now if I have any chance of getting this right.
