Grim anthology. Christine Johnson

to Momma, people felt better hearing their psychic readings from a woman named Madame Lin than from one named Lynette.

      Ducking behind the paisley curtain, I found Momma sitting expectantly at her table. “Well?”

      Keeping my voice at a whisper, I told her what I’d picked up from the jewelry. “She’s mostly here to ask about Kimberly McEntire.” I didn’t mention the other thing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to without Momma knowing something was wrong with me.

      Momma scowled. “Did she bring something belonging to the girl?”

      I shook my head. “Don’t think so.”

      Throwing up her hands, Momma blew out a long breath. “Well, how am I supposed to answer any questions about someone who’s not even here? That’s not how this works,” she hissed.

      There was no sense in reminding Momma that I knew how this worked. The powers Momma had—the powers I had—were really specific. I could touch people and, if I wanted to, get impressions of what they were thinking, little bits of their present and past. The future was a total no-go for me. But Momma, she could see only little snatches of a person’s future. But that person had to be sitting there with her or she had to touch something of theirs. In other words, if Milly wanted to find out where Kimberly had disappeared to all those months ago, she was crap outta luck.

      “Just lie to her,” I said with a little shrug. “Everybody says Kimberly ran away from home after a fight with her parents. Make up some kind of glamorous story about Kim living out in, like, L.A. or something.”

      Momma mulled that over, twirling the end of her headscarf. “That’s good,” she said at last. “After all, what do I always say? If you can’t tell someone the truth—”

      “At least make them happy,” I finished. It was basically Momma’s motto as a psychic.

      Momma smiled at me, her teeth white against the dark wine of her lipstick. “You’ll be good at this.”

      It was pointless to remind Momma that there was no way in hell I was going to end up reading palms in a trailer. Just because she and Grammy had both done it didn’t mean that I was going to. I had my eye on a track scholarship to the University of Alabama, and after that, I was getting as far away from the Woodland Hills Trailer Park as I possibly could.

      Maybe Kimberly McEntire had felt like that, too. Sure, she lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods in town and seemed to have everything going for her. Good grades, pretty face and Skye Bartlett. But clearly something had been pulling her beyond the city limits. She’d taken off over six months ago, and other than a note left on her pillow, no one had heard from her since. I found myself hoping the future I’d told Momma to make up for her was close to the truth.

      Momma got up from the table, and I trailed after her back into the living room. Milly was still standing hesitantly by the couch while Skye stood near the front window. Momma looked back and forth between them. “Will both of you be sitting for the reading, or—”

      “Just her,” Skye said, inclining his head toward Milly. “No offense, but this kind of thing freaks me out.” He grinned at Momma and she practically giggled. Behind her back, I rolled my eyes, and Skye’s grin widened.

      “Very well, then.” Momma held her hand out to Milly, who glanced over at Skye, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

      “So you’ll just...wait out here, right?”

      He gave an easy roll of his shoulders. “Sure. Laura here can keep me company.”

      “Lana,” I corrected, my lips twitching in a smile.

      He snapped his fingers, nodding. “Right, right. Lana.”

      It was a little too much, and just for a moment, Milly’s brow wrinkled with something like confusion. Or maybe suspicion. But then Momma was taking her hand and guiding her toward her studio.

      The moment the curtain twitched closed behind Milly, Skye’s hands grabbed my waist, tugging me close to him. He ducked his head to kiss my neck, but I spun away from him, swatting at his hands. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

      His bright blue eyes sparkled as he leaned closer and he whispered, “I was trying to kiss you.”

      For a second, I nearly wavered. It was hard to be mad at him when he was looking at me like that.

      Shooting a glance at the curtain, I grabbed Skye’s hand and tugged him out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind me. Once we were down in the yard by his truck, I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up at him. “I wasn’t talking about the kissing. I mean why did you bring Milly here?”

      Skye sighed. “She’s been wanting to come out here for months. Pretty much ever since Kimberly bailed. When she said she’d made the appointment, I offered to drive her.”

      In the sunlight, his black hair glinted nearly as blue as his truck. Skye was beautiful in that way that is almost girlie. Only the dark stubble lining his jaw, the veins in his forearms, the blunt width of his hands saved him from looking too pretty. He smiled at me, leaning back against his truck. The move did nice things for his arms. It also showed off the tattoo inked on the inside of his forearm. It was a key, one of those big ornate kinds you sometimes see in old movies. I’d asked him once why a key, but he’d only kissed the tip of my nose and said, “Why not?”

      “I wanted to see you today,” he said now, looking at me over the tops of his sunglasses. “And I figured this would kill two birds with one stone. Keep Milly and your mom occupied for an hour. So.” He reached out, his hand closing around my wrist, and pulled me to him. “Can we please get to occupying that time?”

      My palm pressed flat against his chest. “Not here,” I told him, looking around.

      Our trailer was at the very back of the park, and just beyond was the thick pine forest that gave Woodland Hills its name. Skye followed my gaze, squeezing my hand. “She paid for the whole hour,” he murmured low in my ear, and I shivered.

      With one more quick glance at the trailer, I wrapped my fingers tighter around Skye’s and pulled. “Come on.”

      The woods were thick and smelled like pine, dirt and that mossy, green scent of things growing. They were also cooler, the thick branches nearly blotting out the sun. We walked hand in hand until I couldn’t see the trailer anymore, and then, finally, I turned and let Skye wrap me up in his arms.

      We hadn’t had a chance to be alone in over a week, and as Skye kissed me, I felt like I was melting into him, like there was nothing else in the world except me, him and the forest around us, the sound of birds in the trees, the distant burble of the creek. His lips moved over mine, and my fingers twisted in his shirt.

      “I missed you,” he breathed when we pulled apart, and I smiled against his collarbone.

      “I missed you, too.”

      I always missed him. Even though I saw him every day at school, it wasn’t the same as this, being alone with him, kissing him, feeling his arms around me.

      Looking down at me, Skye pushed my hair away from my face. “Admit this was a good idea.”

      When he was holding me, everything seemed like a good idea, but I still wasn’t exactly thrilled that he’d come out here. Or, really, that he’d brought Milly out here.

      With that in mind, I stepped away from him, walking a little farther into the woods. He followed, and while I let him link his fingers with mine, I didn’t say anything until we were even deeper into the trees, the ground underneath growing harder to navigate. Vines and low bushes pushed against the trees here, and even though I could hear the distant hum of I-85, it was like being in the middle of nowhere.

      Once we’d reached the edge of the creek, I turned back to Skye and asked, “Why are we still sneaking around?”

      He raised his dark eyebrows, blowing out a long breath. “Wow. Okay. What brought that on?”