Waindale

They were poison—the plants that grew as if I beckoned them to. Some could be found on this continent, others originate in faraway places. Adam told me that he woke alone then couldn’t find me anywhere in the house but discovered that the back doors were unlocked. He shifted and followed my scent as if something stole me from our bed. He found me laying on the forest floor in a circle of belladonna, death caps, oleander, hemlock, and many other plants he did not recognize. A vine of poison oak had begun to wrap its way up my leg. It left no rash on my skin.

“Wrenley?”

“Sorry,” I mumble and look up at Vivianne and Imogen, “I can’t stop daydreaming.”

“I asked about Adam being here,” Vivianne repeats. “People say he’s been here since this morning.”

“Yeah. I came with him. H-He said he has things to do here, I don’t know.”

“Is he here all day?”

I nod and rest my arms on the lunch table. “I think so.”

“You look a little tired,” Imogen says.

“I didn’t sleep last night.”

Vivianne’s eyes widen. “At all?” She questions, placing down her sandwich. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. I think it’s because I’m getting sick like I told you. I was tossing and turning all night.”

That’s a lie. I sat up against the headboard as Adam slept. I restrained myself from leaving the room just in case he woke up. The entire night I sat there and only got out of bed to use the restroom, but my thoughts kept me busy. I have at least three fully developed ideas about what my father is and his purpose for being here—his purpose for having me. In the first one, he’s a good creature with good intentions. In the second, he’s evil and his powers come from something dark. The third got cut short as the sun began to rise, but to sum it up, he really is from somewhere far away. I couldn’t provide a solid purpose for his creating me, though.

“Ben! Hi,” Vivianne calls.

Again, I tear myself from my head and notice Ben as he makes his way over. Vivianne scoots to make room for him.

“What are you doing here? Both you and Adam—is something wrong?” She asks.

“No, everything is fine,” he says then looks to me. “I just heard that Adam was here. He didn’t tell me that he was going to be at the Academy, so I thought I would check-in.”

I wonder if he knows. I wonder what Adam told him.

Suddenly another presence comes out of nowhere. Penny shoots to the end of our table like a magnet. “Hi, Wren,” she says all too casually. “Can I see your notes real quick? Devon said I missed something when I, uh, got called to the—”

“Sure,” I cut her off and wave her over. She sparks with life and comes to my free side. “Oh, Ben, this is my friend Penny.”

Imogen and Vivianne both look at me. I pull out my notes, open to a random page, and drop them to the table even though I know Penny won’t even glance at them. Somehow, the girl manages to carry a conversation with Ben, and as she leans over me, Vivianne kicks my shin under the table.

She mouths, “Friends with Penny?”

I shrug.

“Well, thanks, Wren,” she says after a minute or two of talking. “Mind if I get these back to you later?”

“Sure, go ahead,” I say and she takes the notebook and holds it to her chest.

“It was nice meeting you, Ben,” Penny blushes and skips off to wherever she came from.

After my last class, I meet Adam at the front office. We walk to the truck and he drives us home. With my head against the seat and eyes aimed out the window, I say, “Don’t waste your time like this. You have too much going on to be at the Academy all day with me.”

“I got things done,” he argues. “Ben and I worked out of an empty classroom. Don’t worry, Wrenley. I just want to be there when he reaches out to you again.”

I do my homework at the breakfast nook in the kitchen. My papers and pencil and notebook are all laid out for me to begin, but I’m distracted. My gaze is captured by the outside. I rest my head against my palm and stare out the window. I want to return to my ring of deadly foliage and see if it is all still there sprouting like we’re in the midst of spring.

There’s an orange resting against my glass of water. I take it and peel it and eat it, preserving the seeds. As Adam discusses with Alexander down the hall, I slip out the back doors with a few good seeds cradled in my hand. I stay close to the house and dig a small hole in the center of the field, my fingers prying at the solid earth. I drop the seeds in and cover it back up. Now, if I have the power to sprout an orange tree in December, then maybe there is good in my abilities.

“Wrenley!” Adam calls from the back porch. “What are you doing?”

I dust off my hands and hurry to him.

That night, it begins to snow.

I glance out one of the windows in the bedroom after I change into my pajamas. All that is out there is an empty field with a building blanket of snow on top of it. I stand at the window a bit longer to watch the snowflakes tumble through the air.

Adam sits on the bed against the headboard, reading a very old looking book. I leave the window and climb onto the bed. I cling to his side and he closes the book, marking the page before setting it down on the bedside table.

“What is that?” I ask.

“It was in the office—was my grandfather’s. It’s a book about deities, worshiping, witchcraft, even,” he explains. “I was looking through it to see if there’s anything about your father’s abilities or the flowers or anything.”

I push myself up. “What if you’re right? What if he’s a god of something?”

“Well, we want to find out what exactly he’s the god of; what exactly he gets his power from.”

“If it’s from something evil, then he can take my powers back. I don’t want them if that’s the case. I rather go back to being useless.”

Adam sighs. “You were never useless. But, no matter what, this is about him, not you. You can’t help what you are.”

I lift his arm up and settle against him. Adam kisses the top of my head causing my heart to jolt. As I rest against him, as he softly breathes beneath me, I mumble, “I feel like I know what’s going to happen—I’ve had a lot of time to think lately—and I want to tell you my thoughts, but I don’t want to upset you.”

“I don’t like when you think like that,” he says.

“I just want to make sure that no matter what happens, you’ll be okay, and my family too.”

Adam looks down at me. Before he can protest, I say, “I know, I know, you don’t like when I talk like this. I’m sorry.”

He looks at me for a moment longer then says, “You need to get some sleep. We have to be up early to get to the Academy.”

The light from the lamp is warm, almost like a fire. I ignore Adam’s words and instead of letting us settle down, I sit up. I know what I want to do, and without my anxiety holding me back, I place both my hands on either side of his face. Adam lets me move close and bring my lips to his. I kiss him and he soon reciprocates. The strength I feel helps me act on the decisions I’ve made silently in my mind, and when his hand grabs onto my hip, I break the kiss to swiftly move onto him. His lips part but before words escape, I lean down and mend the connection.

He shifts beneath me and the pressure of our kiss grows. I feel both his hands on my waist now and when he squeezes, I take in a quick breath. He hardly pulls away. My hands fall to his shoulders, and he asks, “What are you doing?”

I peer down at him and our eyes connect. It’s as if he’s caught me sneaking something I’m not allowed to have. This needs to happen; I can’t wait any longer. There are no words able to convince him, so I take the next step and grab the end of my shirt. His eyes bore into mine as I pull my top off and let it fall behind me. His eyes beg me to not let him.

My hands return to his face and I kiss him again. After I feel his hands slowly drift up my bare back, he brings me closer to him, as close as I can be. His kiss strays from my lips and trickles to my neck. I grab at his shirt and pull it up, and he gives me what I want when he takes it off for me. My skin rests against his. My mind is clear. He moves and lays me down, my head sinking into my pillow. The fear and anxiety are gone, but my heart races anyway. And as he kneels above me, I grip at the sheets. I bite my cheek and wait for my instincts to kick in.

Adam looks down at me for too long, warning me that he’s getting stuck in his own head. I push up and grab his upper arms, bringing him back to me. “It’s okay,” I say softly and his eyes find mine. “You won’t hurt me. I’m not made of glass.”

“This is what you want?”

I nod and breathe, “Yes.”

The rest of our clothes are abandoned. When the time comes, he hovers above me, looks into my eyes and pushes into me. My arms immediately wrap around him and my eyes shut as my brow furrows. He tells me to look at him so I do. He moves and soon the awkward sensation fades. I instantly feel the fullness, and the pleasure seeps through—warm and so very intimate.

Afterward, I lay in his arms until he falls asleep. Once I’m sure he’s succumbed to exhaustion, I return to the bathroom and close the door as to not wake him up. I fill the bath then soak in the hot water. My desire lingers; it urges me to do everything over again and again. I wanted to do it. I needed to do it.

No matter what happens, he’ll be okay.