Powers Read Free Page B

to the house. Great. A country road. Narrow, treacherously icy, winding between rock cliffs and swamps. Not to mention the deer that leap across the road when you least expect them. Let’s hope I don’t crack up Mom’s old Volvo.
    After twenty minutes of white-knuckle driving, I crested a hill and there it was. The house I’d watched burn.
    At least the police weren’t there. Small comfort.
    A vile stench hit me as I got out of the car, a combination of charred wood and scorched insulation. Only one corner of the house remained standing. I moved closer, holding my breath. There it was, hanging on the wall. A poster of a skull, bone-white on a black background.
    I wanted to jump back in the car and drive, get away, run. I reminded myself I had a job to do. I snapped off a dozen photos, catching the house from all angles. But I knew the shot Doug would choose.
    The skull, floating in blackness, framed by charred wood.
    Adrian
    Cold enough to freeze your balls. I’d always thought that was just an expression. Not at twenty-five below, it isn’t.
    I drive to Canadian Tire after school. My block heater will take an hour to install, so I decide to check out the town. Bad move. My sinus cavities fill with ice. My nose hairs are as brittle as glass. If I sneeze, they’ll shatter. And my toes? I’ll probably have to amputate.
    I pass a store called Freshly Ground. I go inside, order a triple espresso and gulp it down steaming hot. As I pay for the coffee, something happens. I feel shivery hot and sweaty cold, like an ice cube tossed on a sizzling grill. Beside the cash register, along with the candy bars and breath mints, is a collection of key chains. My hand closes on one.
    â€œHow much?” I ask.
    â€œA toonie,” the woman responds.
    â€œA what?”
    â€œTwo dollar coin. You new around here?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThought so. Your accent, eh?”
    I’m thinking, I don’t have an accent. She does. But I say nothing as I hand her a two-dollar coin. It’s large and heavy, with a copper disc inside a nickel ring.
    â€œHere you go then. Have yourself a good one,” she says.
    I’m outside before I take a closer look at my purchase. A cheap plastic skull, about two inches long, is attached to the metal key ring. The skull’s moveable jaw drops down in an obscene grin. Its black eye sockets stare at me.
    I must be crazy. I toss the skull into a trash can and walk on.
    After half a block, I turn back. I stare into the trash. The skull grins up at me. Take me home, it says.
    â€œNo way.” I walk away. And stop. Without understanding why, I pick the skull out of the trash. Half a dozen times in the next five blocks, I take it out and throw it away.
    But each time, it calls me back.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 7
    Gwen
    Every Tuesday and Thursday, Joanne and I had opposite lunches. On these days, I ate alone, doing what I did best: Watching.
    I propped up my current novel, Pride and Prejudice, and dug into my spinach salad. Melissa and her entourage swept past and sat at the table next to me. A moment later, Adrian sauntered in, dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, worn open over a dark T-shirt.
    Yeah, heads turned.
    Adrian favored me with a glance, but didn’t go so far as to nod or say hello. His left eyebrow rose in surprise when he saw the title of my book. As if I cared.
    â€œMay I join you?” he asked Melissa, turning his back on me.
    Of course you can join her, I thought. Anyone, anywhere, anytime. That’s our Melissa.
    Melissa nearly fell off her chair moving over for him. Her friends shifted one down to accommodate Adrian. They reminded me of a gaggle of geese, all honking quietly. Melissa, the head goose, glared at them to shut up.
    â€œSo,” Melissa said.
    â€œSo,” Adrian replied. He tapped his fingers on the table. Nerves? Interesting.
    Abruptly, he stopped tapping, leaned toward Melissa and spoke in his sexy