Raven
I wake with Maggie’s screech.
“Rae? Oh my lanta. What, in the name of photosynthesis hell, is going on with you?”
My eyes snap open. The first thing I see is my best friend’s face mere inches from mine. A green, leafy veil partially obstructs my view, but she’s too close, and surrounded by vines. When I twist, I can’t move more than a few inches in any direction.
She’s not the one encased in roots the width of my arm. I am. The smooth bark doesn’t chafe, but the vines hold me closer than a botanical MRI machine. Panic dries my mouth. My muscles go rigid in a fit of claustrophobia, and I wonder if I’ll have a heart attack and die right here and now.
“Mags,” I whisper. “Help me.” One minute, I’m having crazy dreams about my mother going all “Poison Ivy” on me, the next my nightmare morphs into reality.
Edgar yowls from my bedside. He paws at a leaf before touching the leather pad of his nose to mine. His whiskers tickle, but I can’t move my arm to scratch his ear like I normally would. He sits and cries again.
“I know, honey,” Maggie says, soothing my unhappy cat.
“Um, little help?”
“Right, sorry.” Tentatively, Maggie reaches out and strokes her fingers down the foliage attached to my shoulder. “I’m open to suggestions.”
I wish I had one. “I had a nightmare, about my mother and a tree.”
“And did this tree try and eat you?” The question sounds sarcastic, but the look on my friend’s face is deadly serious. Her fingers curl around the nearest vine. She tugs, but it won’t budge.
“Not exactly. It was trying to help, I think.”
“Well, think again.” She digs her hands between me and the sturdy roots, puts her foot on the mattress, and yanks. Noisy grunts underline the effort she’s expending, but the plants won’t move. A head toss sends her platinum bob swinging. “Seriously … ” She pants. “They’re like freaking iron.” Her voice hardens, losing some of the fear I heard earlier. Her eyes narrow. I know that look of stubborn determination. Without warning, she scrambles over top of me and the pile of roots.
Air rushes from my chest as I’m squeezed under her hands and knees. “What are you … doing?” I groan. “What do you see?”
“The vines. This is so weird …”
Which part?
“Okay, let’s think this through. The vines obviously grew in through the window overnight, but I never heard a sound.” As if to emphasize her thought process, she climbs down and faces me from a few feet away. “When I stand back and look at you from a distance, the vines are like a jail.” Her head tilts. One hand rubs her jaw. “Actually, it looks like you’re stuck inside a giant ribcage, eaten by a huge plant skeleton—”
“Mags!” I shudder. “So not helping.”
“I have more, eco-burrito?”
“You used to be a nice person.”
“You used to have a sense of humor.” She stops and frowns. “Sorry. I’m sorry! You know this crap stresses me out. Okay, we have to get you out before my parents get home. Mom will freak out and spray you with weed killer, or call the fire department.”
“No she won’t. We’ll explain it.” The idea sounds ridiculous, even to me.
“Have you met my mom?” Maggie’s head snap clears the hair from her eyes. “Remember the time she told our neighbors she was growing Chlamydia under the mailbox. Chlamydia, Rae. Not the Clematis actually potted in the container. Everyone thinks our front lawn has a venereal disease.”
“Okay, you may have a small point there.” Initial panic subsiding, I still want out of jail. “Just help me, please.”
She chews her thumbnail, and then says, “I could text Dane that we have an emergency, but he doesn’t check his phone much at work.” She squats to make eye contact. “Hey … should I call the fire department?”
Confined by the ivy, my headshake is a complete fail. “We can’t have this on the six o’clock news, Mags.”
“Right. You’re right.” Maggie swipes a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulls them on under her thin nightie. “My dad has an ax in the shed. That’s what firemen use anyway. It’ll have to do since we sold our ‘Jaws of Life’ bolt cutters in the last garage sale.”
“Ha. Ha.” She’s just trying to keep things light, but my heart sinks. I don’t know how my friend thinks she’ll hack me out without chopping me to pieces, and oddly, that’s not even my main concern. I called the plants my jail, but a cage shields too, right? Protects, provides safety.
Hurting the vines feels like a betrayal. It’s stupid and illogical, but it’s also strangely true. Withering leaves, roots hacked and dying, it all makes me queasy, and I find myself wishing I could save them.
Maggie leans over, hands clutching her knees. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, funny.” I glare at her through the leaves, but she’s already jogging out the door. “You should do stand-up!” I yell, hoping she’ll hear down the hall.
The longer Maggie takes getting the ax, the more uncomfortable I am with the plants’ impending doom. No matter how irrational, I can’t stand the thought of their destruction. A total reversal considering the claustrophobia I felt minutes ago. What’s wrong with me?
My head pounds with quick and sudden pain. Nausea worsens. The ground shudders and floorboards creak. Bed legs scoot and stutter with the mini-quake. I should be terrified, yet I’m suffering more for the plants that will soon die.
Then suddenly, like a snake waking from a long sleep, the vines begin uncoiling from around my body. Edgar hisses. I hear the thud as he jumps to the floor. Claws scratching as he scurries away. Starting with the thinnest ends, the roots loosen, leaves retract. Inch by inch, the vines unwind from my limbs. Released from my bonds, I arch to see the plants scuttle over the sill, retreating out the open window.
“What. The. Hell?”
I turn as Maggie drops the ax. The metal head hits the floor with a clang. “Rae … ?”
“Shh, I know.” Fearing any distraction will stop the migrating foliage from vacating our room, I plead with my eyes for her to keep still.
Leaves brush noisily against glass panes with the vines’ exodus, the sound lessening as the stragglers slide out and away. Once they’re gone, I roll to my knees and poke my head out of the window. Maggie joins me on the bed, and, side by side, we watch the last of the roots burrow into the ground of her parents’ yard. The soil isn’t disturbed. There are no holes, tunnels, or furrows to prove that what we just witnessed was real.
HO-LY CRAP.
“Raven?” Awe, fear, and disbelief leak though her tone, heightening the same feelings in me.
I stare at the dirt that swallowed the roots and feel a little like Jack and the Beanstalk, but in reverse. “They left when I told them to.”
“What?”
“At least, I think they did. When you went for the ax, I felt sorry for them. I wished they would leave so they didn’t have to die. And then they just … went.”
Maggie pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Her exhale’s long and dramatic before meeting my gaze. “You felt sorry for the killer weeds?” I nod. “Honey, did you call the plants here in the first place? Lord help me, what am I even saying?”
“I was dreaming about plants, so I guess it’s possible.” Somehow, I’m now convinced the invading plants meant me no harm. In my dream, the connection between us let me know they were there for my protection—but from what? I’m thinking like a crazy person. Plants aren’t dogs. They don’t come and go on command. Or spring to life, cage humans, and then slink away again.
“You could have been killed. Strangled. Why would you bring them here? Or better yet, how?”
“I don’t know.” We’re both quiet, and then I add, “It’s happening again, isn’t it? The magic. Or I’m finally completely insane.”
“This wasn’t a nightmare, Rae. I saw it, too. If you’re crazy, I’m right there with ya.”
We stare out the window until my neck stiffens and my thighs go numb. Nothing happens. The roots don’t return. No giant Venus flytrap comes calling. “I think I’ll head over to Gideon’s and hang out.” I need to see him, feel his arms around me. Hear his smooth southern voice telling me we are going to be okay, and that we can have a life that is normal. If normal exists. “He’ll be back this afternoon.”
Her red hair stripe swishes with her nod. “Excellent notion, Rae, but I’m going, too.”
I wasn’t going to argue. No one stops Maggie once she’s on a roll.
“If you think I’m going to sit here all day waiting for a Little Shop of Horrors rerun, you really are out of your mind.”