Lost ≠ Unfindable

Nora inches the door closed as quietly as she can, wincing as something inside the house crashes.

“NORA!” Screams her little sister, putting the emphasis on the second syllable, sounding eerily like their mother.

Something clenches in Nora’s chest and she almost turns around, but then she hears something else shatter and she grits her teeth and forces herself to run. 

She runs until she can’t breathe and even then she doesn’t slow down, her heart pounding so hard her entire body goes thump, thump, like a flickering lightbulb. She doesn’t look where she’s going; she can’t see anything, not the people staring at her, not the baby flowers she tramples, not the tree she crashes into. She blinks away the fog in her eyes to find herself crumpled on the ground in a park of some sort, grass just beginning to turn green dotted with trees and leftover snow piles. A cold breeze sways the bare branches of the trees and she shivers.

Trying to calm her erratic breathing, she stands on shaky legs. She doesn’t know where she is and she doesn’t know where she’s going to go now. She closes her eyes and thinks that she’ll have to go back to the house. No matter what’s wrong with Genevieve, Nora can’t leave her there alone.

Opening her eyes, she takes a deep breath and starts walking, following the sounds of traffic. Now that she’s had a minute to calm down, she regrets running away. Her mother would be so disappointed. Nora’s breath catches and she shoves the thought of her mother out of her head, blinking rapidly. Then she sees something sparkle out of the corner of her eye and without knowing why she turns and walks toward it, almost as if pulled along by an invisible thread.

There’s something metallic half sticking out of a melting pile of snow and Nora almost swears that it’s glowing. She reaches out her hand expecting to touch cold metal and startles when her fingers brush warmth. She pulls the object out of the snow; it’s some sort of silvery stick covered in delicate carvings. A tingle shoots through her arm. She tightens her grip. It feels…right. She doesn’t know how else to describe it.

“That’s mine.” A deep voice snaps Nora back to reality.

She spins around. 

A boy dressed in all black stands a few feet away, eyebrows raised, his dark hair messy but giving off the vibe that he messed it up on purpose.

“What?” She says.

He walks toward her. “The wand. It’s mine.”

“The wand?”

“Yes. It’s mine.” 

“It’s yours?” She takes a step back.

He rolls his eyes. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” 

“I–” She starts, but he’s in her personal space now and the stick is vibrating and she can’t seem to will her fingers to let go. The corner of his mouth quirks up and suddenly the stick–wand?–is flying out of her hand.

“Hey!” She blurts, feeling an odd chill in her body. “I found it!”

“It was never lost.” He twirls the wand between his fingers.

She frowns. 

“Who are you?” She asks.

“I’m a witch,” he says, grinning.

Nora doesn’t know if she believes him. She doesn’t know if she believes in magic. Well, that’s not true. She doesn’t want to believe in magic, but she doesn’t really have a choice anymore. She could’ve explained what happened to her mother away, but now Genevieve… she swallows, hard.

“Well, you must not be a very good witch if you left your wand in a pile of snow.”

He looks like he wants to laugh. Nora wants to punch him. Instead, she forces a smile onto her face.

“I need your help,” she says.

He tilts his head. “I know.”

“Okay, follow me, then.” She forces herself to stop glaring.

“I never said I was going to help you.”

She takes a deep breath. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I said I know you need my help. I didn’t say I would give it to you.” His mouth twitches.

“Fine!” Nora snaps, “I can take care of it myself!” 

She starts to stalk away but a strange pain blossoms in her stomach, intensifying with every step until she’s stopped walking, hands on her knees and gasping for air. The boy flickers into view in front of her, and the pain vanishes.

“You found my wand,” he says, “you need my help.”

“Did you do that to me?” She yells.

He smiles. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who picked up my wand.” 

Nora wants to stab him right in his infuriating dimple. “Well, you said you wouldn’t help me.”

“I never said I wouldn’t help you.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I said that I didn’t say that I would help you.” His eyes sparkle with laughter.

“That’s the same thing!”

“No, it’s not.”

Nora bites down hard on the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Will you help me?”

He grins and links his arm with hers. “I thought you’d never ask! What seems to be the problem?” 

She yanks her arm away. “I think my sister is possessed.”

“Symptoms?” He asks, pursing his lips.

“Her eyes. They’re black. And she’s breaking things…” Nora trails off, eyes burning, and digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands. 

“What’s her name?” He says.

“Genevieve.” 

“That’s a pretty name.”

Nora has always been so plain next to her little sister. Genevieve is beautiful, even with the scars speckling her face, almost like freckles. And their mother had always loved Genevieve more. But it’s impossible not to love Genevieve. Sometimes it’s almost painful how much Nora loves Genevieve.

“Not as pretty as yours.” The witch cuts into her thoughts.

She wrinkles her nose. “What are you talking about? You don’t know my name.”

He grins at her. “You touched my wand, Nora.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, fighting away a blush. 

“My name is Zachary if you were curious. My friends call me Zach. So you can call me Zach.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“That’s such a normal name,” says Nora.

“And I’m just a normal witch. Now, let’s go!” He links their arms together again and this time Nora doesn’t pull away.

Zach waves his wand and Nora blinks and then they’re standing in front of her house. It’s silent except for an eerie moan twisting around in the air. Nora feels her heart start to beat faster.

The door flies open.

And there’s Genevieve.

Her eyes are enormous and shiny with tears and she looks so pale and tiny and helpless. Nora runs to her but before she can get to the porch a blinding pain in her stomach brings her to a halt and she collapses.

Genevieve opens her mouth and wails.

The sound fills Nora’s mind until it’s all she can hear and her heart is breaking and tears are streaming down her face and the pain in her stomach is making her dizzy.

Then she feels a hand on her arm and the pain disappears. She tries to go to Genevieve, but someone is holding her back.

“It’s not really her,” comes a voice from behind her.

“Genevieve.”   The name burns Nora’s throat as it comes up. Her little sister. Her baby sister. All she can hear is the wailing. Just like last time. She had run into the house to her mother shattering the dishes on the ground, the shards of porcelain flying into Genevieve’s skin, and Nora had gotten there too late to save them, too late…  

Nora registers that someone is shaking her. She blinks and a face comes into view. It’s a boy. Does she know him? His eyes are gold. That isn’t normal. His mouth is moving but she can’t hear anything he’s saying. He shoves something into her hand and her fingers tighten. He looks familiar. Her head starts to feel less foggy.

“Zach?” She whispers.

“I’ve helped you all I can,” he says.

“But, Genevieve…” she trails off.

Zach stares into her eyes. His hands are warm on her shoulders and she realizes she’s holding his wand, gripping it so tightly her knuckles hurt.

“You have to save her by yourself,” he says.

“I–I can’t.” Her voice breaks.

He smiles but his dimple doesn’t appear. “You found my wand, remember?” And then he lets go of her shoulders and flickers out of view.

Nora lets out an involuntary sob and straightens up, holding the wand out in front of her. Genevieve has stopped wailing. Nora takes a cautious step toward her. Genevieve looks up with wide eyes, a single tear dripping down her cheek. It’s not really her, Nora tells herself. She fixes her eyes upon Genevieve’s unnatural black ones and closes the distance between them.

“Nora,” whispers Genevieve, “where’s Mommy?”

No, please no. Nora’s stomach plummets. She shakes her head. “Stop it,” she growls.

Genevieve smiles. It looks so innocent. Nora almost smiles back, but then she notices the knife Genevieve is clutching.

“Wow,” says Nora, all false bravado, “you really think you can fight me? You’re in the body of an 11-year-old!” She points the wand at Genevieve.

The serene smile stays put on Genevieve’s face and she brings the knife to her chest.

Horror clogs up Nora’s throat and air can’t get through anymore. “Leave my sister alone!” She screams, chest heaving.

The knife inches closer and closer to Genevieve’s heart.

Nora can’t breathe, she can’t think, she can’t even use the witch’s stupid wand because she’s not magical. She hears screaming and a distant corner of her brain realizes it’s coming from her own mouth. She can’t do this alone she can’t save her sister she can’t…

Save my sister save my sister save my sister is all she can think and a trickle of blood stains Genevieve’s shirt and the wand starts to heat up and Nora’s whole body is tingling and then the knife flies out of Genevieve’s hand and there’s a look of surprise on her face that morphs into anger when she sees the knife is careening straight towards Nora.

And then, with a thump, it buries itself in Nora’s stomach. 

Someone is shouting Nora’s name. It’s a voice she recognizes, so with an enormous effort, she forces her eyes to open and sees Genevieve’s face above her, blue-green eyes shining with tears. 

Nora is so, so cold, and she can’t feel anything, and she realizes that she is dying.

“Why?” Genevieve is saying.

“I love you,” Nora says, the effort of speaking making her eyes flutter shut again.

Nora hears a voice say, “I love you.”   

Genevieve takes the wand from Nora’s limp hand and presses their foreheads together.

An explosion goes off in Nora’s brain. She blinks and sits up. Her shirt is soaked through with blood but there’s no wound on her stomach. She looks up and sees Genevieve floating a foot off the ground haloed in a cloud of light.

“Am I dead?” Nora asks.

“No,” says Genevieve, smiling, “you died for me and I died for you.”

A boy appears beside Genevieve. No, not a boy––a witch. It’s Zach. But what is he doing? He flicks his wand and Genevieve starts to float up higher and higher.

Nora chokes on a sob. “Where are you going?”

“You saved me,” Genevieve says.

“Don’t leave me here alone!”

“You’re not alone. And when I get up to the clouds, I’ll look out for you, just like Mother.” 

“What do you mean? Mother has never looked out for me!”

But Genevieve is too far away.

Nora feels a hand on her arm and looks up and sees Zach. “How do you think you found my wand?” He smiles, dimple in full view. 

That was my mother? A tear drips off the bridge of her nose, splattering into the dirt.

A tiny flower sprouts from the spot where her tear landed, the delicate blue-green petals the exact same shade as Genevieve’s eyes. Nora stares at it in surprise, and a watery smile spreads across her face.