“You looked very purposeful just now,” he said, lifting both eyebrows.
“Trying not to step on cracks,” she admitted, feeling foolish and wishing she could tell the flush in her cheeks to get lost.
Stephen’s eyes twinkled.
“Any truth to that? Step on a crack, break your mother’s back?” he asked.
Before she could answer, he took a step and leaped into the air, landing both feet with a thwack on a series of fractures in the cement.
He looked at her expectantly, and then burst out laughing.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “All our mothers would be dead if that were true.”
Liv shrugged.
“You haven’t been at the pond,” she murmured.
“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice irritated. “My mom’s been… sick.”
“Sick?” Liv asked.
“I’m free now,” he told her. “And The Picture of Dorian Gray is playing at the theatre. Will you go with me?”
Liv’s heart gave a little leap. She’d only been to the movies twice in her life.
Stephen bought their tickets, two Cokes, and tub of popcorn.
As they shuffled into the dark theatre, Liv spotted several girls from her high school.
One of them, Veronica, their ringleader, glared at Liv.
Liv barely knew Veronica, but the girl had taken to bumping into her in the halls so that Liv dropped her books.
“Those girls hate me,” Liv admitted as they took seats in the theatre.
Stephen craned around in his seat to stare at them.
“Don’t look,” Liv whispered, poking an elbow in his side.
“Why not?” he asked, still watching them. “Believe me, they’re more uncomfortable right now than you are.”
He continued staring at them for another moment, and when Liv turned, she saw all the girls’ faces were red and they were looking pointedly away from Stephen.
“There, see?” He turned back around and offered her the popcorn.
She took a handful and munched it happily, surprised at the satisfaction she felt at the girls’ discomfort.
After the movie, Stephen and Liv walked out of town, following the train tracks.
“Wy don’t they like you? The girls in the theatre?” Stephen asked.
Liv shrugged.
“Because I live in the shacks, because I’m new in town. I don’t really know. Veronica, the one with the dark curls, seems to be the reason. My first day in school, I noticed her watching me, and she just had this expression like… like a cat gets when it’s hunting a mouse. I knew she’d be trouble for me.”
“We could kill her,” Stephen said casually, balancing on the tracks.
Liv imagined Veronica, with her glossy brown hair perfectly curled in the popular style of the times. She wore pretty bright dresses and pleated skirts. Her lips were always painted red, her face pale and smooth as an egg.
“How would we do it?” Liv joked.
“Stabbing, shooting, hanging, burning. It all leads to the grave, but so unoriginal. I think we’d need your magic, Liv. We need the Volva on this one.”
Liv rolled her eyes.
“My magic is only for good.”
“Oh, come on. Play the game. What has George taught you about black magic?”
“He hasn’t.”
“Have you ever asked him? If the good magic exists, the bad does too. That’s the balance of things.”
“Your gift is at my house,” Liv told him, changing the subject.
“My gift? Oh, the dogfish?”
“Wait here and I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, but she shook her head and ran off before he could argue.
When she returned, the dirt road they’d been walking stood empty. She held the wrapped dogfish spine and the carved coal, fighting down her disappointment. An acorn flew from the woods and landed at her feet, and then another.
She walked into the shadowy canopy of trees and spotted Stephen halfway up a fat oak tree, one hand filled with acorns.
“About time you came back. I was sweating like a pig out there.”
Liv held up the gift.
Stephen climbed to a lower branch and leaped from the tree, landing and immediately folding into a somersault. He sprang to his feet and held out his arms as if he’d just performed a feat defying regular man.
Liv whistled.
“Very well done, Mr. Kaiser. And now for your prize.”
Liv handed him the package.
He unwrapped the fabric and gazed at the spine of the dogfish. He picked up the coal and squinted at the design.
“It’s a dream stave,” she said. “Put it under your pillow tonight.”
His eyes lit up, and he looked at the spine and coal with renewed interest.
“What will I dream?”
She smiled.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
George frowned at Liv’s mention of Stephen.
“Why don’t you like him?” she asked.
She’d taken the bus the Stoneroot Forest the day before, arriving in time for the new moon. The new moon and full moon each month were their times for ritual, gathering herbs, and preparing tinctures. As a young girl, Liv had found the ceremonies fascinating, and she looked forward to the moon changes for days ahead. However, this visit she’d dragged her feet, packing her bag at the last minute and dreading two days without seeing Stephen.
George didn’t respond, but continued to meticulously chip away at a piece of granite. He made runes on the new moon of each month.
“George?” she repeated.
He looked up, setting his hammer aside.
“It’s not an issue of like, Volva. It’s an issue of trust. I don’t trust the young man you’ve indebted yourself to.”
“I’d be dead without him, George. So would Arlene.”
George looked away, staring out the window to the woods beyond.
“The fates always offer a fork in the road, a chance to make a choice. You will be faced with a choice regarding this young man. It will be troubling, and you will be tested.”
“I’ve been faced with lots of choices. Have I failed yet?” Liv demanded.
George smiled; a small, sad smile.
“Failure is not what’s at stake. It’s the purity of our hearts. If we compromise that, we are lost.” He returned to the granite.
Liv thought of continuing her quarrel. She wanted to argue with George until he came around to her side, choosing to accept and even like Stephen. But she knew better. George was unwavering in his beliefs. He saw something in Stephen he didn’t approve of. There was no shifting him.
George kissed her head, slung his leather bag over his shoulder, and walked out the door.
Liv watched the closed door for a long time. If George sensed something, which he often did, he would return.
She focused on things she’d normally do at the cabin. She peeled potatoes next to the wash basin and put them in a pot of water over the fire. Afterward, she swept the floor, carefully moving in an eastern direction to encourage not only dirt but evil spirits to leave the cabin. Pulling open the door, Liv gazed into the empty woods. She listened for the crunch of twigs underfoot.
Satisfied that George had indeed walked to town and would not return for several hours, she slipped back into the cabin. She grabbed the edges of George’s straw bed and pulled it aside, revealing the rough-hewn floor beneath.
There were three loose floorboards. Liv had watched George retrieve items from beneath them before. She had never dared open them, though he had never given her a direct order not to do so. It was an unsaid thing between them. She knew it was forbidden, and as she pried up the first board, she experienced a little pang in her chest.