Page 29 of The Raven
More than I cared to admit.
“Were we friends? I keep getting flashes of images in my head, and I thinkit’s us when we were younger,”she asked delicately, almost as if she werescaredto ask.
I reached out and tucked astrandof hair behind herear, something I alwaysusedto do just as an excuse totouchher.“We were more than that.”
“Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “Soul mates.”
A pang ofanguishstabbed me in the heart.Ravenhad been my first andonly love. Iusedto tell my parents that Ilovedher from the very first day Imether, when she was five and I was seven, and we moved into the house next door toRavenand her mom.
Ilovedher even though she gave her love toEric.
I loved her even when the Vipers took her from me.
And beyond.
“You left,”she said, bringing me out of painful childhoodmemories.
Itwasn’tan accusation; she was simply stating the facts. I did leave her, notthat it was mychoice.
“My dad was an FBI agent. Still is. We moved frequently depending on whatrole he was doing and where he was posted. Our home inHadleighPeakwas the only place westayedfor longer than a few years,”Ireplied, remembering the moment my dad had told me we were relocating to England.
Ilovedmy father, my mom, too, for that matter, and I’d never onceshownan ounce of disrespect, until that day when hedroppedthe bombshell. I screamed, shouted, told him that I would never forgive him if he made me leaveRaven.Nothing I said or did changed his mind.
“In one of the images I saw, you said that it was your fault, and that youwere toolate. What happened?”she asked, her eyes shining with desperation to uncover thetruth.
I deliberated for a few seconds. Lying would hurt me. Telling the truth would hurt us both. But I couldn’t lie to her; she deserved to know the truth, and given that I still had no fucking clue how she was here to begin with, I suspected we were on borrowed time. I had to give her my honesty.
“Are you sure you want to know?”I asked, a little part of mehopingshe’dchangeher mind, a bigger parthopingshe wouldn’t.
Her eyeswidened, but she slowly nodded her head.
Iswallowed.“Can you do that thing with your hands where you see insidemy head? It might be better if I show you.”
It was the coward’s way. I should have spoken thetruth, but there wastoo much to say;showingher was the only way I could make her understand everything. Without saying a word, she raised her hands andplacedthem against my temples. Iclosedmy eyes and allowed thememoriesto flow.
“Mason!”a high-pitched voice squeals.“You’re scaring me!”
I chase my little bird through the field at the back of our house, somethingI’ve done often since we moved in next door. Hergigglesecho into the warm, sunny air, and my mouth tugs into an enormous grin, the one onlyRavenpullsout from me.
“Caught you, Blackbird!” I laugh as I grab her around the waist and the two of us tumble into the long grass.
We both laugh and pant as we lie looking up at the blue sky. When our giggles subside, Raven turns to face me. “Why do you call me Blackbird? My name’s Raven.”
I tuck astrandof hair behind herear. She neverwearsher long black hairin atie, and strands always fly into her face.“Everyone calls youRaven. I want to call you something that means something to me, and only me.”
A smileliftsher lips.“I like that. I want to call you something different.”
“What do you want to call me?”
She thinks about it for a moment, her cutebrowsfurrowed. She’ll turn tennext week, and she’s been my best friend for the last five years. I always boss her around, though, because I’m two years older, and she has tolistento what I say.
“Mase,” she declares.
“Mase? That’s not anickname,”Ireply, pretending to be offended that she hasn’t been morecreative.
She lifts a shoulder. “It’s my nickname for you. And you have to promise me that no one else will ever call you it.”
