Madame\nSosostris, famous clairvoyante, untied the silvery tendrils of the scarf and\npulled back the four corners, one by one, to reveal the Tarot. She let the\nscarf drop next to Ivy on the smooth marble steps and began shuffling, deep in meditation,\noblivious to the second-period bell and the jostle of Westmont Academy students\npushing into Candler Hall. She cut and rejoined the deck, then flipped the top\ncard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHoly\nshit, Ivy, it\u2019s the Tower again.\u201d Harper Reeve\u2019s gypsy persona, like many of\nher passions, could be a fleeting and volatile thing. \u201cThat\u2019s like the fifth\ntime this card has thrown itself at me. Freaky, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFreaky,\u201d\nIvy agreed, pulling her collar up against the winter chill. She was freezing\nher ass off, using up a free period when she should have been preparing for her\nchemistry final, and all just to indulge Harper\u2019s newfound penchant for\ncartomancy. Harper insisted on doing the readings outside; the winter air\nhelped Madame, her temperamental alto ego, concentrate. Harper was the kind of\ngirl who could insist on such things; Ivy was the kind who did not put up much\nof a fuss. Not when it came to Harper, at least. Out on the bone cold steps, or\nburied in the swampy clang of the school\u2019s boiler room, what did it matter? An\nhour alone with the most beautiful girl in the senior class who had for reasons\nunknown chosen her as a sidekick: Who was Ivy to question the cards?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo,\u201d\nthe recomposed Madame said, \u201cYour reading begins with zee Tower. Interesting.\u201d\nShe bit her lower lip in concentration, pushed a vagabond strand of her long\nblack hair behind her ear, no doubt trying to remember the cheat sheet that\ncame with the Tarot deck. \u201cTower ees significator. Where you are in life now.\u201d\nShe peered into the image, trying to get a clue. \u201cMadame sees beeg change ahead\n. . . cataclysmic change for you, Ivy Novotny.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Is she messing with me? <\/em>Ivy wondered.\n\u201cHey, don\u2019t I get to pick my own card?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMadame\nalvays pick significator.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo,\nI\u2019m stuck with the Tower?\u201d Should she laugh this off or look concerned? She\ncould never quite figure out when Harper was serious and when she was joking.\nMisreading the tone of their interactions seemed to be her chief fault in\nHarper\u2019s eyes. Harper would turn in a quick second if she thought Ivy got it\nwrong. Lighten up, <\/em>she might say, or\nthe equally unexpected converse, for\nonce, Ivy, just be serious.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>\u201cCataclysmic change,\u201d Ivy tried. \u201cCould be a good thing,\nright?\u201d Sometimes she screwed it up on purpose, because she liked the delicate\ntension of annoying Harper coupled with the promise of more time together, as\nshe tried to earn her way back into favor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cQuit\nfooling around.\u201d Harper tapped the deck. \u201cPose a question for the reading.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nMotherpeace Tarot cards were circular instead of rectangular, which made them\nas hard to handle as they were to interpret. Harper had developed a loping\nshuffle; she would arc them from hand to hand, almost as if were juggling. Ivy\nhad not known quite what to say when Harper gave them to her a few weeks\nearlier. Not for her 18th<\/sup> birthday, which she\u2019d already missed, but\nfar too early for Christmas. A gag gift, then? Or something more personal? The\n$16.95 price tag still on the shrink-wrap made Ivy err on the serious side. Awesome, <\/em>she had said, rippling off the\nplastic. Wanting to please Harper could make her overplay. \u201cThese are amazing\ncards. I love fortune telling.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even\nif the gift began as an amusement, Harper now read the cards with a convert\u2019s\nintensity. Silence. Madame Sosostris\nspeaks. <\/em>Well, if she was all about Tarot this month or the rest of senior\nyear for that matter, so be it. Always intriguing to have her arrange the\nspread, turn over each card and reveal her feelings about life, about Ivy, on a\ngiven day. She could be so generous, old Madame S, seeing beeg love, <\/em>and verrry long\nlife, <\/em>rolling her r\u2019s dramatically whenever she felt openhearted. She could\nalso switch into a mean old bitch. Cataclysmic\nchange.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>Ivy shuddered in her corduroy jacket. Trees around campus\nheld their quivering gold leaves, feeling lucky to be so bestowed and knowing\nthat a strong blast at any moment could strip them of their worth. Her mother\u2019s\nscarf, fallen on the marble step, was made of the thinnest cotton; strands of\ntinsel thread crisscrossed the fabric. Ivy picked it up, held it to her nose:\ncigarette smoke, dust, a scratch in the back of her throat. She had purloined\nthe scarf from a basket on the floor in Mom\u2019s closet, she kept the silky wraps\nshe wore on her teaching days at the university. Such luxuries could be\nliabilities when Ivy\u2019s younger brother Benjy was around. At fourteen, he still\nhad the mental ability of a two-year-old. He would stretch and shred anything\npretty, then stiff it in the toilet, just for a laugh. Even though Benjy was\naway now (for however long the latest in a long line of group homes might\nlast), Mom kept all her silks and jewelry hidden, like love letters from an old\nboyfriend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\ntied the scarf around her neck for some warmth and a little magic, too. Maybe\nshe could absorb from it some of Mom\u2019s ethereal beauty and do to Harper what\nHarper did to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome\non then, Madame S., tell me what my future holds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJust\na second, Novotny; you\u2019re a total mess.\u201d Harper\u2019s concentration broke again as\nshe leaned into Ivy, took the scarf ends, tied them together and rearranged the\nfringe. \u201cThere . . . much better. Now . . . the Tarot. You are the querent, so\nyou must pose the question. Place your hand on the deck. Focus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\nstudied the significator card hunting for clues. A thin naked woman with fire\ncoming out of her heard sat on a tower. Her hair was long and wild, streaked\nwith gray, and there was fire blazing in the background. Lightning bolts shot\ndown from the sky as if at her command. Did Mom sometimes wish that lightning\ncould strike her family, once, twice, thrice? Strike one without question would\nbe for Benjy. He\u2019d been kicked out of six group homes already; who knew how\nlong number seven would last? When Dad came home from work at night and said, Looks like we finally figured it out, huh? <\/em>Mom\nlooked as if she could spit. Her second bolt of lightning had to be for Dad,\nthen. Dad, the relentless optimist who wouldn\u2019t or couldn\u2019t give up his crusade\nto find a permanent placement for his problem child. And the third and final\nstrike? No contest was there? Hugo, Ivy\u2019s other brother, the middle child, was\nstoic and beautiful, rose early every day, rode his bike to the Westmont\ncampus, changed in the varsity locker room, and then launched his body off the\ndiving board, over and over again, whipping and chastising his physical self\ninto perfection. Hugo\u2014his name even meant \u201cgood soul\u201d\u2014would have been any\nmother\u2019s dream son. Strike three, then, was for Ivy. Chunky of body, sharp of\ntongue, and as Mom had started to suspect, unnatural in desire. With Harper\nbeside her, Ivy knew that she could never be who her mother wanted. She\nprobably couldn\u2019t be who Harper wanted either, but she did want Harper. So, screw Mom, and screw the flaming Tower\ncard, and screw me too for being too chicken-shit to ask for what I need.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>Madame tapped her foot and said, \u201cCome now, you vant to ask\nabout a boy, yes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\ntugged at the strangling scarf. Whose idea of fun was this? Where had Harper\nbought the damn cards? Scratch that\u2014why had Harper given her the cards? No. Not\nthat either. The honest truth . . . the questions she really wanted to ask . .\n. Could Harper ever feel the same way? Did she ever find it hard to sleep at\nnight because of Ivy? But these were not the kind of questions Harper wanted;\nfor all her flirtations with the dark and dangerous, Harper remained a\nconventional Southern girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAsk.\u201d\nShe insisted now of Ivy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay.\nWhere\u2019d you buy the cards?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLittle\nFive Points,\u201d Harper flashed her super-white teeth. \u201cI already told you that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\ndon\u2019t think so. I would have remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They\u2019d\nfound the funky neighborhood together during a long, slow run one afternoon in\nthe fall. The location and atmosphere were as far away from Westmont Academy\nand Atlanta\u2019s moneyed Buckhead neighborhood as Ivy could have hoped to go:\nLong-haired guys kicked around a bean bag in a rubble-strewn front yard;\nrainbow flags hung from bedroom windows. A girl with a black-faced guitar sate\non the hood of a pick-up and strummed chords. No one watched as they jogged\npast. Later, they had talked about venturing back one weekend. They could shop\nat some of the strange stores, maybe grab lunch at that place: Eat Your Vegetables. <\/em>Ivy loved the name;\nshe loved to be bossed when it came to food. And love. But now it seemed that\nHarper had returned to L5P alone. Or worse, not alone, but without Ivy. She\nstared at Harper, willing her to confess. A sense of doom stirred in her gut.\nThe Tower cried out cataclysm, cataclysm.\n<\/em>She pulled her feet out from under her but. Pins and needles in her toes.\nHarper owed her a confession. Ivy flexed her heels and asked again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere\nexactly did you get the cards?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Madame\ndealt nine, face down, in a circle\u2014the Motherpeace spread, the one described in\nthe instruction booklet\u2014then looked up at Ivy defiantly. \u201cAll right. I went\nback there last month.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBy\nyourself?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\nwanted to get you a present. I thought I could find something . . . kind of\nquirky. Like you. So yes, I went back. Alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harper\nwas lying. Her tell was the way she tossed her hair between each choppy\nsentence. She dealt three final cards face down beneath the circle; they would\nreveal proximate, distant and final outcomes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow\u2019d\nyou get there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs\nthis a fucking federal investigation?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\nwaited her out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDan\ndrove me, okay. Is that want you want to hear?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\u2019s\nneck burned, blood rising up her cheeks. Dan. Dan Lauderdale: Class-President-\nYearbook-Editor-Christian-Life-Leader-Wresting Co-Captain. Lately, he had been\ntagging along with the girls\u2019 cross-country team because he said it would help\nhim make his competition weight. 154 lbs. He spit every few yards, trying to\nshed extra ounces. Ivy was such an idiot to believe the runs were part of his\nregimen; she could spit on herself for stupidity. Did Harper have to rub the\nfinal three cards in her face for her to finally understand. Dan. Harper. Little Five Points?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>\u201cNow ask the goddamn question for the reading.\u201d Harper was\nnot fooling around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivy\nwas lousy at finding one. It was a skill, just like tying a scarf or smoking,\nthat required a measure of femininity unattainable to her. Some people\u2014Mom,\nHarper\u2014never had to worry about such things. They could wear a scarf, inhale,\nknow the right questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAsk,\u201d\nHarper said, \u201cor I am so out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Like\nthat she could lose her. Ivy untied the scarf from her throat and scratched at\nher neck with stubby, bitten fingernails. Harper had climbed into Dan\u2019s car\nvoluntarily and given him directions to Little Five Points. Did she lead him\ninto the restaurant, Eat Your Vegetables,\n<\/em>whisper that command into his ear, rest her hand on his thigh? Did she buy\nthe Tarot just to tantalize strait-laced Dan? How excited he must have been,\nwalking through the odd community with a gorgeous girl, just crazy enough to\nexplore the dark arts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A\ngust of wind blew hair across Harper\u2019s face and she pushed it back impatiently\nas she began to gather up cards from the steps. The trees held tight to their leaves,\nbut winter was coming. Ivy saw what she was not yet ready to lose; knew what\nwould have to be enough. For now. Maybe for the next few years. She cleared her\nthroat and found somewhere deep within exactly the type of question Madame\nwanted to answer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, untied the silvery tendrils of the scarf and pulled back the four corners, one by one, to reveal the Tarot. She let the scarf drop next to Ivy on the smooth marble steps and began shuffling, <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":147,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-146","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-shortstories","category-writings"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=146"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":149,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146\/revisions\/149"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/147"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=146"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=146"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.juliejusticz.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=146"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}