Chapter 11

The week between my lunch with Patty and my even-ing with Bryce is painfully long. I can sense that my level-headed conversations with Jane have served their purpose in convincing her I don’t need medication. I have no idea what medication would do to my clarity of thought and I can’t afford to find out.

Patty has come for a few more visits. Bryce has texted, checking in on me. It’s nice to be in touch with them again. But it won’t be long before I’m released from Arbutus House. Mom will scoop me up in a heartbeat and we’ll be back in Nelson, on our own again.

Once I’m home, I’ll have left behind more than just my leads on Akasha. I’ll be right back to missing Bryce, although I still think I need a new best friend anyway — a girl for once. Mom will tell me it’s all for the best too. Bryce will say we can keep in touch until I come back to Vancouver for school one day. It didn’t work the first time and even if he does keep in touch now, it’ll be because he pities me. The thought makes my heart sink.

My heart tumbles deeper into my gut when I think about Akasha. I’m so close now. Sure, her case has been cold for a hundred years, but there has to be something I can do for her. Why else would she connect with me?

At seven o’clock, I’m sitting on the front steps of Arbutus House. Therese reminded me how desperate it looks to be on the edge of my seat until my “date” comes. I remind her that Bryce is just my friend, but it doesn’t change the look on her face. It would be perfectly normal to wait on the step for a friend, especially if I’ve been cooped up for too long beforehand.

At seven fifteen, Mitchell’s car finally turns the corner onto Arbutus Street and rolls to a stop across the road from me. Bryce is in the front passenger seat, which is good. It would be way too weird to sit in the back seat with him while his brother drove us around like a chauffeur. It’s much better if we’re all just hanging out together. I waste no time in hopping up and jogging to the car. Mitchell smiles at me, although he doesn’t have Bryce’s visual charisma. Mitchell’s hair is combed mostly flat, and his dark eyes don’t have the same spark.

“You’re late. They only let me out for so long, you know.” I’m hoping to break the ice and soothe my own nerves with a little small talk. I get into the back seat and Mitchell pulls out onto the road.

“I had to battle post-rush-hour Friday night traffic to get here. So, you’re welcome,” says Mitchell with a mild sheepishness. Bryce turns to me and smiles.

“Thank you for coming to get me. They won’t let me take transit by myself, so this is pretty much my only shot at getting out of the house without my mom, former nanny, or one of the Arbutus House staff.”

“We wouldn’t let you take transit anyway. Not in your condition,” says Mitchell.

“She’s not sick,” says Bryce. His aggravated tone of voice cheers me; he’s defending my honor, sort of. If only I could get over the frown on Mitchell’s face in the rearview mirror. An awkward silence takes over until we turn left onto Commercial Drive.

“What part of the Drive would you like to see?” asks Mitchell.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been on Commercial Drive on foot. Every time Mom and I come to Vancouver, it’s all about downtown,” I say as I look over the storefronts scrolling past us.

“Then you’re in for a treat. This is hipster central. People are calling it just ‘the Drive’ these days. I think some marketer came up with that and put it on ribbons on every other lamppost and now the cool crowd thinks they invented it,” says Bryce. We turn onto a side street and coast past cars parked bumper to bumper.

“It must be a cool neighborhood if there’s nowhere to park,” I say.

“More like Vancouver has too many people for the number of interesting places to hang out,” says Mitchell. We turn another corner, now a block parallel to Com-mercial and finally park.

“I don’t mind it being busy here. I’m a sucker for trendy hangouts. Remember how much there is to do in Nelson? The tourists usually last a week and they’ve burned it all up.” I’m using my best all-is-cool-and-normal voice. Deep down I wish Mitchell would stay in the car while Bryce and I explore the Drive.

“I remember. Vancouver may be crazy, but there’s literally no end of things to do,” says Bryce.

“Dad says the city will never justify the cost of real estate. I agree with him,” says Mitchell. We get out of the car and Mitchell assesses his parking job, not satisfied, while Bryce plugs change into the parking meter.

“You guys don’t use your phones for parking?”

“Listen to you. Big city already. Or has Nelson upgraded the parking meters since we moved?” says Bryce.

“Patty used her phone to pay for parking when we went to the library the other day. We went to the Central branch downtown.”

“Good to hear you didn’t just come to the city to crash in our basement,” says Mitchell. His sarcastic tone and smirk suggest he’s joking, but I can’t shake the vibe that Bryce’s brother would rather be elsewhere.

“Hey, why don’t you go check out that model-building shop towards Venables Street?” Bryce says to Mitchell.

“Aren’t I supposed to be chaperoning this little tour?”

“I seriously doubt the Arbutus House ladies will have any way of knowing if you don’t stick with us the whole time,” I say, doing my best to sound nonchalant. Mitchell eyes us both carefully.

“If you take off — either of you — I’m not going to cover for you.”

“No worries. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m playing by the book from now on.” I lift my hand in a pledge of truth.

“Give me a shred of credit. Just go,” says Bryce. He’s straddling a fine line between staying on Mitchell’s good side and speaking his mind. The mind seems to be on my side.

“We’ll meet back here in an hour. That gives you guys time to wander around and we’ll still have Katelyn back before her pass expires. Don’t get into trouble.” Mitchell shakes his head and walks off.

Bryce and I cross the road heading in the opposite direction.

“He’s really not excited about driving us around, is he?”

“It’s not that. He finished the year second in his math class. Dad is not happy and he’s making Mitchell study all summer.”

“Ouch. Does your dad know why you both came out today?”

“Yes and no. He knows we’re showing you around the Drive. He doesn’t know you’re in a home for youth. We left that part out. He maybe kind of thinks you’re staying with your mom’s friend.” Bryce looks away. We need a new topic of conversation. We arrive at back at Commercial next to a pet store.

“So, what part of the Drive should I see first? This is your town now. Lead the way to whatever is awesome.”

“Okay. There’s a great gelato place around the corner.”

“Perfect! I’m not much of a smoothie person anyway.”

“So, how are things going, being at Arbutus House?”

I stop and think before I answer. If I tell the truth, I keep Bryce in the loop on the fact that I still believe in Akasha.

“It’s tough. I never would have thought that having a couple of quirky ideas would land me in mental health treatment. Mom is so sure there’s something physically wrong. I feel fine. I’m not sick or crazy.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re crazy. Neither does Mom, but she won’t say so in front of Dad.” The image of Bryce’s mother smiling in her kitchen flashes in my mind’s eye. Radhika might sym-pathize with me, if I get a chance to talk to her and tell my side of the story properly.

We pass a spice shop, a clothing boutique, and a book shop. The window of an antique store catches my eye — its display includes a crystal ball resting in a ceramic dragon claw hand, a stack of tarot cards, a handful of runes, and a sun-bleached yellow-and-black Ouija board.

“Can we look inside?”

“Sure, we still have time.”

The aromas of amber and sandalwood are thick in the smoky air of the shop. Incense has been burning here for a long time. A middle-aged woman with long flowing salt-and-pepper hair reads a book behind the counter.

“Excuse me, is the stuff in your window for sale?” I ask her. Bryce browses, peering into the curio cabinets.

“What were you looking at?” The woman rises from her chair and walks to the window.

“I’m interested in the Ouija board.”

“That’s a lovely one, isn’t it? Are you thinking of it for personal use or a gift? These vintage boards are pretty popular right now.” I’m not sure if she’s making conversation or trying to sell me the value of an item that’s overpriced.

“It’s just for me.”

She hands me the board and an inverted heart-shaped instrument with a magnifying glass in the middle.

“This is called a planchette.”

“How much for both of them?”

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Bryce frowning at me.

“Twenty-five for the set. You can’t buy one without the other. It’s bad juju to break a board and planchette pairing, particularly one that’s been used for so long.” The saleswoman has a deadpan expression I can’t read, other than taking her at face value. I do not believe in juju, but my personal experience compels me to believe in the capacity of the dead to communicate.

“Would you take twenty? It’s all I’ve got with me. My mom took my bank card. It’s a long story.”

The saleswoman hums and haws.

“I’ve got five bucks,” says Bryce. He’s still frowning, but he’s already holding a blue bill out to us.

“Thanks. You don’t have to do that,” I say sheepishly.

My new used Ouija board is wrapped up and we’re back out on the street, me holding a paper bag a few minutes later.

“Let me just ask this: are you going to get in trouble for having that thing? Not that I think you’re going to accomplish anything, but you’re supposed to put that dream and diary stuff behind you, right? At least as far as Arbutus House is concerned, yes?”

“They don’t need to see this. They don’t search my stuff and they won’t unless I give them a reason. My sessions with Jane are going well. She’ll be calling Dr. Werdiger soon to re-evaluate me for release. I know the difference between real and pretend, so I don’t see the harm.” My stomach wrenches. I badly want Bryce to be an ally, like Patty.

“I trust you. I wouldn’t rat you out. I still think it’s bizarre that you’re in therapy for this stuff to begin with.”

“It’s because I ran away, remember? The deal with the almost-Amber-Alert and all that. Otherwise it would have been a simple visit to a psychiatrist.”

“Well, at least you get to hang out with me for a while in Vancouver.”

“Yeah, you’re the real reason I ran from my mom and got myself on the hook for over a month of therapy.”

Bryce laughs. I swallow hard and do my best to laugh with him.