Practical Magic
Page 63
This sort of test can make a person nervous, and it’s not until Kylie is considering her third move that Gideon has the guts to look at her. Her hair isn’t as blond as it was. Maybe she dyed it, or maybe the blond stuff washed out; it’s a pretty color now, like honey.
“Looking at something?” Kylie says when she catches him staring.
“Die,” Gideon says, and he moves his bishop.
He takes her glass of iced tea and gulps some of it down, the way he used to do when they were friends.
“My sentiments exactly,” Kylie says right back.
She has a big smile on her face and her chipped tooth shows. She knows what he’s thinking, but then, who wouldn’t? He’s about as transparent as a piece of glass. He wants it all to be the same and all to have changed. Well, who doesn’t? The difference between him and Kylie is that she already knows they can’t have it both ways, whereas Gideon still hasn’t a clue.
“I missed you.” Kylie’s voice is offhand.
“Yeah, right.” When Gideon looks up he sees that she’s staring at him. Quickly, he shifts his gaze to the place where the lilacs used to grow. There are only some twiggy-looking things with black bark. On each twig is a row of tiny thorns so sharp even the ants don’t dare to come near.
“What the hell happened to your yard?” Gideon asks.
Kylie looks over at the branches. They’re growing so quickly they’ll reach the height of a good-sized apple tree before long. But for now they seem harmless, just wispy shoots of brambles. It’s so easy to ignore what grows in one’s own garden; look away for too long and anything can turn up—a vine, a weed, a hedge of thorns.
“My mom cut the lilacs down. Too much shade.” Kylie bites down harder on her lip. “Check.”
She’s taken Gideon by surprise, moving a pawn he hadn’t paid much attention to. She’s got him surrounded, allowing him one last turn out of kindness before she moves in for the kill.
“You’re going to win,” Gideon says.
“That’s right,” Kylie says. The expression on his face makes her feel like crying, but she’s not going to lose on purpose. She just can’t do that.
Gideon makes the only move he can—sacrificing his queen—but it’s not enough to save him, and when Kylie puts him in checkmate, he salutes her. This is what he wanted, but he’s all confused anyway.
“Do you have the ten with you?” Kylie asks, even though she couldn’t care less.
“Over at my place,” Gideon says.
“We don’t want to go there.”
On this they both agree. Gideon’s mother never leaves them alone, she’s constantly asking if they want something to eat or drink; maybe she figures if she leaves them alone for a second they’ll find themselves in big trouble.
“You can owe me until tomorrow,” Kylie says. “Bring it over then.”
“Let’s just go for a walk,” Gideon suggests. He looks at her then, finally. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”
Kylie pours the rest of the iced tea on the grass and leaves the old bedspread where it is. She doesn’t care if Gideon isn’t like anyone else. He has so much energy and so many ideas percolating inside his head that a band of orange light rises off him. There’s no point being afraid to see people for who they really are, because every once in a while you see into someone like Gideon. Deception and dishonesty are alien to him; sooner or later he’ll have to take a crash course in the ABCs of bullshit to ensure that he won’t get eaten alive out in the world he’s so anxious to get into.
“My mom’s getting married to some guy, and we’re moving to the other side of the Turnpike.” Gideon coughs once, as if something had stuck in his throat. “I’ve got to switch schools. Lucky me. I get to matriculate with an entire building full of shit-eating imbeciles.”
“School doesn’t matter.” Kylie scares herself when she gets so sure of things. Right now, for instance, she is absolutely certain Gideon won’t find a better friend than the one he’s found in her. She’d bet her savings on it, and still be willing to add her clock radio and the bracelet Gillian gave her for her birthday into the bargain.
They’ve begun to walk down the street, in the direction of the YMCA field.
“Where I go to school doesn’t matter?” Gideon is pleased and he doesn’t know quite why. Maybe it’s just that Kylie doesn’t seem to think they’ll see each other any less—that’s what he hopes she believes. “You’re sure about that?”
“Looking at something?” Kylie says when she catches him staring.
“Die,” Gideon says, and he moves his bishop.
He takes her glass of iced tea and gulps some of it down, the way he used to do when they were friends.
“My sentiments exactly,” Kylie says right back.
She has a big smile on her face and her chipped tooth shows. She knows what he’s thinking, but then, who wouldn’t? He’s about as transparent as a piece of glass. He wants it all to be the same and all to have changed. Well, who doesn’t? The difference between him and Kylie is that she already knows they can’t have it both ways, whereas Gideon still hasn’t a clue.
“I missed you.” Kylie’s voice is offhand.
“Yeah, right.” When Gideon looks up he sees that she’s staring at him. Quickly, he shifts his gaze to the place where the lilacs used to grow. There are only some twiggy-looking things with black bark. On each twig is a row of tiny thorns so sharp even the ants don’t dare to come near.
“What the hell happened to your yard?” Gideon asks.
Kylie looks over at the branches. They’re growing so quickly they’ll reach the height of a good-sized apple tree before long. But for now they seem harmless, just wispy shoots of brambles. It’s so easy to ignore what grows in one’s own garden; look away for too long and anything can turn up—a vine, a weed, a hedge of thorns.
“My mom cut the lilacs down. Too much shade.” Kylie bites down harder on her lip. “Check.”
She’s taken Gideon by surprise, moving a pawn he hadn’t paid much attention to. She’s got him surrounded, allowing him one last turn out of kindness before she moves in for the kill.
“You’re going to win,” Gideon says.
“That’s right,” Kylie says. The expression on his face makes her feel like crying, but she’s not going to lose on purpose. She just can’t do that.
Gideon makes the only move he can—sacrificing his queen—but it’s not enough to save him, and when Kylie puts him in checkmate, he salutes her. This is what he wanted, but he’s all confused anyway.
“Do you have the ten with you?” Kylie asks, even though she couldn’t care less.
“Over at my place,” Gideon says.
“We don’t want to go there.”
On this they both agree. Gideon’s mother never leaves them alone, she’s constantly asking if they want something to eat or drink; maybe she figures if she leaves them alone for a second they’ll find themselves in big trouble.
“You can owe me until tomorrow,” Kylie says. “Bring it over then.”
“Let’s just go for a walk,” Gideon suggests. He looks at her then, finally. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”
Kylie pours the rest of the iced tea on the grass and leaves the old bedspread where it is. She doesn’t care if Gideon isn’t like anyone else. He has so much energy and so many ideas percolating inside his head that a band of orange light rises off him. There’s no point being afraid to see people for who they really are, because every once in a while you see into someone like Gideon. Deception and dishonesty are alien to him; sooner or later he’ll have to take a crash course in the ABCs of bullshit to ensure that he won’t get eaten alive out in the world he’s so anxious to get into.
“My mom’s getting married to some guy, and we’re moving to the other side of the Turnpike.” Gideon coughs once, as if something had stuck in his throat. “I’ve got to switch schools. Lucky me. I get to matriculate with an entire building full of shit-eating imbeciles.”
“School doesn’t matter.” Kylie scares herself when she gets so sure of things. Right now, for instance, she is absolutely certain Gideon won’t find a better friend than the one he’s found in her. She’d bet her savings on it, and still be willing to add her clock radio and the bracelet Gillian gave her for her birthday into the bargain.
They’ve begun to walk down the street, in the direction of the YMCA field.
“Where I go to school doesn’t matter?” Gideon is pleased and he doesn’t know quite why. Maybe it’s just that Kylie doesn’t seem to think they’ll see each other any less—that’s what he hopes she believes. “You’re sure about that?”
