Half Lies (3 page)

We’ve spent the last week hanging out at the beach and made some friends, mostly fains. My friends back in France were fains, so I’m used to being careful not to say or do the wrong thing in front of them, though the only thing I can do magically at the moment (until I’m a full witch—7 months, 16 days, and 3 hours away) is heal quickly. So the two best fain friends are Jaz (Jasper, 19) and Chase (geek, 18). Chase has glasses and spots and is just grateful to be with people who don’t beat him up for being Chase. Jaz is funny and interesting and nice, though he’s clearly gay and struggling with it, and is totally in love with Gabriel. They think Gab is 21, because that’s what he told them, and that I’m 18, because that’s what I told them.

Aiden (son of Skylar) sometimes goes to the beach too. I’m not sure if I like him—he acts as if he’s better than everyone else. He’s good-looking in that American footballer/full-set-of-teeth way (tall, light-brown hair, broad shoulders, tan). Aiden knows Gab’s 17 and I’m 16—Gab made sure he knew how old (young) I really was.

Jaz/Chase are nice, but they’re really Gab’s friends. Their conversation is usually limited with me to: “Hi, Michèle. How are you?” “You’re so funny!” And the old favorite (always from Chase): “I love your accent.”

I tell him, “I love your accent too,” and every time he finds this absolutely hilarious.

I’ve always spoken English the same way Mum did, and Gab says I sound just like her. I don’t want to lose that—it’s one of the few things I’ve got from her. Gab speaks English with a strange French/American accent, which makes Jaz swoon. I should add at this point that Dad sounds just the same, though he’s still not speaking much (his drinking has leveled out to just one bottle of wine a night—not really bad). But back to swooning: Gab isn’t friends with the girls at the beach, though they all parade on by—shoulders back, super perky, smiling and giggling in his direction—and if he returns their smiles, well, I don’t know if there is such a thing as a group female orgasm, but they definitely look like they’re having one.

But most important of all I’ve made one girl friend. Caitlin. She’s 16 too. She’s a Half Blood (half White!!!!) and I can really talk to her. No need to censor any witch stuff. It’s so great! I’ve told her all about Mum and Dad, me and Gab, and EVERYTHING.

Caitlin’s mum is a fain and her White Witch dad is “not around,” which turns out to mean he’s gone to Scotland “to find his roots” or something.

I asked her, “But what about you? You’re his roots here.”

Caitlin just shrugged. “I think he’s trying to forget I exist.”

Gab wasn’t sure about me being friends with Caitlin. She’s a Half Blood for a start and while there are a few Black Half Bloods around (most working for Aiden, it seems) she’s the only half White. They aren’t considered to be proper witches and the rules about territory don’t apply to them. But if Aiden’s around she won’t join us. She says he’s “nasty.”

3rd April, 2013

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks with Caitlin at the beach and she’s even been to our house twice. We talk and talk and talk.

22nd April, 2013

I have amazing news! Sit down and take a deep breath . . . THIS IS VERY EXCITING!

This morning at breakfast Gab was grinning. I mean really grinning and humming and almost skipping around the room—definitely not the usual grunting/coffee-drinking/reading bundle of limbs and hair I’m normally sitting across from.

My first thought was “love”—in fact my first thought was “LURVE!” So I asked him, “What did you do last night, Gab?”

“Nothing.”

“Got a new boyfriend?”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Jaz? Wasn’t he . . .?”

“He was—is—a friend.”

“If you haven’t got a new boyfriend then why are you behaving so . . . happily?”

He grinned at me and tucked his hair behind his ears. He buttered his bread and made a coffee but didn’t answer.

“I can tell something has happened.”

He spread his jam, humming. And I thought he would tell me if he’d found a boyfriend because he does tell me who he likes (very few). So if it’s not LURVE it must be . . . OMG!!! “You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your Gift?”

He turned to me and licked the jammy knife. “Maybe . . .”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me! It’s not potions, is it?”

“No, not potions. I need to work on it.”

“What? What?”

“Don’t hassle me until I’ve worked on it a little more.”

Aaaggghhh! He’s so cruel to me.

23rd April, 2013

Imagine a small, rundown kitchen with a rickety old table. Sitting on one side is a lonely girl (prettyish, dark hair, aged 16) and opposite her a barely sober man, her father. They’re having breakfast.

“Where’s Gab?” asks the girl.

The father grunts and says, “I’ve not seen him.” This is said in ENGLISH!

The girl carries on eating her Cheerios but notices that her father is not enjoying his usual morning cigarette. She is further surprised when her father leans forward over the table and asks, “How are you, sweetheart?”

The girl warily says, “OK.”

“Me too.” Then he gets up and says, “That is why I feel like having croissants this morning.”

The girl is suspicious. Her father never eats breakfast. At a push he has a coffee with his cigarette. Her father never calls her sweetheart and—

“With jam.”

Her father hates jam.

“Or perhaps . . . chocolate spread.”

This, the girl thinks, is very, very strange. Her father is often unusual and unpredictable, but this is beyond weird! He covers half a croissant with jam and half with chocolate spread. He eats it all and says, “I’ve seen Gabriel have it like that. It’s good. I should tell him.”

That is when the girl starts to laugh. That is when she begins to work out what’s happening.

The father says, “Have you seen that wonderful boy Gabriel anywhere?”

The girl shakes her head but is smiling. She says, “Gab? Is it you? You can transform?”

“What! What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? Where is that boy?” And he gets up and goes out of the room and a few seconds later Gab comes in. He’s wearing the same clothes—Dad’s things that he’s borrowed.

“Do it again,” the girl says.

“What?” Gab asks, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.

• • •

Gab is brilliant. His Gift is fantastic—I really couldn’t see anything in his transformation that wasn’t perfect.

And he doesn’t need to read this diary to know that I think he’s wonderful and he deserves to have a great life and meet the most gorgeous boy of his dreams and live happily ever after. He’s a great witch.

Dear Michèle,

You’re wonderful too.

Gabriel

29th April, 2013

I’m sleeping outside on the roof, waiting for Gab to come back. I’ve hardly seen him since he found his Gift. He’s hanging around with Aiden a lot, I think, but I don’t know because I’m not invited. Sometimes I hate him.

30th April, 2013

And he’s not looked in my diary even though it’s open on the sofa.

1st May, 2013

Cooked dinner for Gab but there is no Gab. Do I sound like a housewife or a mother? At least Dad was here to not eat the dinner I’d made.

1st May, 2013—STILL!!!!!

Sitting on the roof, counting stars. Feeling lonely. Actually a bit worried about Gab.

Michèle,

I just went into town and around to see what was happening. I’m back now, safe and sound.

Gabriel

Dear GabRIEL,

“and around”—where exactly is that?

M

2nd May, 2013

Gab’s disappeared again.

M,

I’m very much alive and well. Had to go out again. Sorry to annoy you/worry you.

Gabriel

Dear Gabriel,

You are not forgiven.

M

5th May, 2013

Skylar came round this morning when Dad (the real one) and I were having breakfast. She asked if Gab was home. He wasn’t and I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.

Skylar said, “I’m sure he’s fine,” in a way that made me sure she thought he wasn’t, and I realized then where “and around” is: Gab’s been going onto White territory. The only thing I wasn’t sure of was if Skylar was here to tell him off or check he’d survived.

I asked her, “Did you send Gab to Tampa?”

Skylar said, “He’s been helping Aiden.”

“How exactly?”

She didn’t answer but got up and said, “He went into Tampa and was supposed to report back to Aiden at midnight.”

“So he’s been missing for eight hours!”

Skylar just said, “Gabriel’s very good. I’m sure he’s safe.” And then she left.

Dad didn’t say or do anything!

I wasn’t sure if I should just wait at home, but after an hour I couldn’t stand it so I went into town to look for Gab or Aiden or someone. Luckily I saw a Half Blood and he took me to Aiden, who was in a wood on the other side of town, waiting for Gab to return. It was a sort of makeshift shooting range, though Aiden was throwing knives when I arrived. Gab says that’s Aiden’s Gift—an unusual one, but he throws things incredibly far and incredibly accurately. Aiden told me that Gab had gone into Tampa to “check things out” and hadn’t come back. It was “as simple as that,” he said. But when I asked exactly who or what he was checking out and why, Aiden wouldn’t say more than “the Whites.” And I had this awful feeling that I would lose Gab like I’d lost Mum and I ended up shouting at Aiden and storming off, but I didn’t know the way back home and Aiden picked me up in his car and brought me back. On the drive back he said a little more: that Gab had been into Tampa “most days” and Gab was “the best” and “no one’ll see through his disguise” and “he knows Tampa real well, knows the places to avoid” and all I can think is that if all that’s true why isn’t he back?

6th May, 2013

Gab was here at breakfast. I shouted at him.

He didn’t shout back (he’s always so infuriatingly calm). So I threw bread and a plate and the butter dish at him. He laughed—yes, he laughed. Then I started crying, and I hit him when he tried to hold me, but he still held me and said he was sorry. He’s been going to Tampa every day, disguised as a fain, and spying on the White Witches. He said, “Aiden asked me to check up on some of the key White Witches, but there isn’t much to report. There’s nothing happening really.” And then he explained that last night he was invited to a fain pool party so he went and the party was great and carried on till morning. And we were all worried he’d been killed!

AND he wouldn’t promise not to go again.

8th May, 2013

I saw Aiden today. He came here, said he wanted to check that I was OK. Said he was sorry that I’d been so upset about Gab and that he’d been pretty angry about it too. I told him I threw plates at Gab and he said he might try that next time.

He’s 22 and I’m 16—is 6 years too much?

I thought you didn’t like him? Are you teasing me?

SIX YEARS IS FAR TOO MUCH. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT AIDEN.

Gabriel

Gab,

But he came round to see me. Spoke to me. Spent time with me. If only you were home to keep me company then I wouldn’t have time for Aiden, but I know you love going into Tampa all the time.

M x

I won’t go into Tampa and I’ll keep you company.

Gabriel

Gab,

M

23rd August, 2013

It is seriously hot here. Gab and I have been at the beach for months. I’ve been swimming and sunbathing and reading (and too lazy to write in my diary). We’re as brown as berries and as happy as Larry (whoever he is). Aiden has been visiting me occasionally, but Gab is always with me and fends him off. Aiden isn’t as bad or heartless as I first thought, but I’m not interested in him. I’ve got to know a few other boys at the beach and I’m not interested in them either. I keep thinking of Sam—Golden Boy—and I’ve had an idea . . . I’ll write Sam a letter (doing it the old-fashioned way). I’ll have to send it to the Bean Counter, but the good thing about a letter is that I can work out how to properly explain things and not mess it up like when we last spoke on the phone.

25th August, 2013

It took four drafts of the letter before I was happy with it, but I do think it’s rather good in the end. I did have to tell Sam one little lie as to why I hadn’t been to see him and of course I could say nothing witch-related, but I talked a lot about how I missed him. I read it over to Caitlin and she said it was perfect. She’s going to take it to Sam at the coffee shop; she’s dying to see what he looks like.

26th August, 2013

Caitlin said Sam wasn’t at work yesterday when she dropped the letter off. I put my address on it so he could write back to me, but now I’m nervous that he won’t ever reply.

27th August, 2013

I’m not going to the beach as I’m waiting for the postman.

• • •

The postman has walked straight past our house.