……

it's been a long night chasing ghosts, but at the most

it's been a rude awakening

-mine all mine, shedaisy

……

Chapter 2: mistero

……

After her parents come in to wish her goodnight, Alex takes the time to rummage around in her closet, then her jewelry box. Obviously she loves clothes, the brighter the better, and there are enough accessories to start her own mall. She runs the chains, bead, scarves, through her fingers and wonders about them. Where she bought them, when, which ones are her favorites.

With a deep sigh, she sets them down and begins to get ready for bed. She finds pajamas in the top drawer of her dresser and starts to change.

And then something odd happens.

When she takes off her boots, she finds a long, thick stick, bright orange, stuck down inside one. She turns it over, trying to figure out a reason for having it, let alone why it was in that particular location.

What the heck is she doing with a stick in her shoe?

Opening the door, she goes toward the stairs. Maybe somebody else can enlighten her on her bizarre discovery.

At the top of the spiral staircase she hears voices floating up from the living room. Overhearing her name, she pauses, hovers just outside the line of vision of her parents and her brothers below her.

"So we're all agreed," she hears her dad say, "that we shouldn't tell her yet."

Something in her Alex's stomach lurches.

"I don't know, Jerry. I don't feel comfortable keeping something like this from Alex. She has a right to know." She can see the shadow of her mother on the wall, pacing the length of the floor. "What is something happens? She won't know how to react."

"We'll just have to watch her. One of us will be with her at all times. And if we can't, Harper can."

"But Dad," Max says, "Harper won't be able to help if Alex suddenly turns herself into a fish or something."

What?

"Well we're lucky that you guys are on Fall Break. One of you should try to be available in case something goes wrong." Alex can see his shadow stand up and stand beside the figure of her mother and watches his arm go around her shoulders.

She hears what she thinks is a snort coming, but she's not sure who it comes from. Then Justin speaks and she knows, somehow, that it came from him. "Yeah, we're all real lucky that Alex went and screwed everything up. Again."

Alex feels a sharp pain in her chest that corresponds to his words and the tone behind it. True, she doesn't know him well (sort of) enough to be positive, but she'd bet her life that the heft in his words mean, without a doubt, that he meant what he said. He blames her for what's happened.

And it hurts.

Who would have thought that she could get her feelings hurt by a guy she barely knows.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, she heads back to her room and finishes getting ready for bed. She leaves the stick on top of her dresser. Long after she lies down and attempts to sleep she's aware of it. Almost as if it's calling out to her.

Weird.

……

Alex spends a good half hour staring at the contents of her closet the next morning. What would she wear if she were really her? Picking idly at the hem of a brightly printed orange shirt, she thinks about whether or not she likes it.

Right now, she doesn't like it. She doesn't like a lot of what is inside the closet. It's all so bright and flashy and the patterns are enormous. Obviously she is, was-whatever, a person who likes attention. That has to be it. What else would attribute to neon colored tights?

There's a knock at the door and her mother peeks her head in. "Hi, honey. How are you doing this morning?"

She shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I don't really like my clothes. How weird is that?"

Her mom chuckles. "It'll come back to you." She moves to stand behind her, runs a hand down her hair. "Would you like some help?"

"No, I think I'll be okay," Alex says. "If nothing else I have pictures." She waves her hand at her desk where she's piled all the photographs she's been able to gather up from drawers and boxes in her room of herself.

"Okay. Your dad and I are going in to talk to Mr. Laritate today and tell him what happened, so you don't have to worry about school for a few days, alright?"

She has no idea who the guy with the two names is, but she nods anyway. So far it's just seemed better to go along with what everyone is saying.

Alex feels a slight twinge, somewhere inside at the thought.

"Okay."

Her mother rubs her shoulder and leaves, tossing a smile back over at Alex over her shoulder.

With a sigh she turns back to her closet.

……

Butterflies erupt in Alex's stomach as she makes her way downstairs for breakfast. She's not sure if she's entirely ready, but her stomach has been grumbling since she woke up from the two hours of sleep she managed to get. Through her walls, much thinner than they look, she had heard her brothers getting ready and heading downstairs, and now she can hear the chatter of a normal family meal going on.

Well, as normal as can be expected.

Her palms are a little bit sweaty and she rubs them on the legs of her jeans. She wanted to dress somewhat like the Alex everybody but her knows, she dug around for way too long and ended up settling on a tie-dye tee shirt with a butterfly on the front and a pair of fringed boots she saw in a lot of the more recent (she thinks) pictures. Despite all the evidence that she apparently loves jewelry, she had decided to forgo all the heaps of beads and bangles and the preposterous number of peace signs all together.

Hopefully it won't be that noticeable.

Even more nerves attack when Max looks up and sees her coming. He clears his throat in a very obviously trying to be inconspicuous way and all the talking stops, four pairs of eyes fixing on her.

"Yeah, that was subtle," she remarks and, to her amazement, everyone laughs.

Justin offers her a small smile. "You may not remember who you are, but at least you're still snarky. That's a good sign."

If he says so.

"So, Alex," her dad says with a big smile on his face, "what are you up to today?"

"Wait, Alex isn't going to school?" Max looks between her and their parents.

Giving him a 'duh' look, Justin stands and grabs his bag off the back of the chair. "She doesn't even know her middle name, Max. How can she handle school?"

Max shrugs, nods.

They all leave together in a group but Justin turns back and tells her that his cell number is in her phone-just in case she needs him.

Then he drops a stick out of his back pocket, looking more startled than she is to see it lying on the floor. "Um…this goes to my…ship in a bottle kit." He looks confused by his own words, so obviously he's a terrible liar, but she nods like she believes him.

"Yeah, you kind of look like the type who would build ships in bottles."

He looks offended, she thinks. She doesn't really know him well enough to be positive.

"I'll um, I'll see you later." And with that, he's gone.

……

She spends the time before her parents get home looking through her room again. Not knowing how long they're going to be gone, she goes as quickly as she can and finds nothing weird. Not really. Clearly the abundance of skull drawings and the dark themes of some paintings with her name on them could raise some eyebrows, but how bad can she be when there's pink fur on her walls?

That's when she remembers the room downstairs. The one she woke up in the day before. There was definitely some questionable stuff in there. She thinks. It wasn't as if she got a good look before she was escorted out.

But the door won't open. No matter how hard she pulls, it's not budging.

Frustrated, she smacks at the door but the only thing that does is hurt her hand so she goes back upstairs, grumbling.

An idea comes into her head on the way back to her bedroom.

She shouldn't…it's a bad idea.

The door to Justin's room is partially open and she lingers against the frame, listening to the reasoning going on inside her head. On the one hand, this isn't her room and she honestly doesn't know Justin well enough just yet to go into his room when he's not here. On the other…her entire past is a blank and she may be able to find some answers in here.

Quietly, she goes in and looks around, not daring to touch anything.

Action figures-lots and lots of action figures, comics, books, a model airplane, more books, DVD's.

It all seems perfectly normal.

Shrugging, and feeling a little guilty, she turns to head out and look through her own room again.

And she sees it.

All of the books on Justin's shelf are new, the bindings still glossy and hardly bent. They've been read carefully. Except one.

One book stuck in the middle of the second row is so old the letters on the cracked leather have faded, and the words on the cover have lost the glint that made them gold. The difference in appearance makes her want to examine it so she grabs it off the shelf and dashes to her room, closing the door behind her.

Page after page is the same; herbs and moon phases and spells.

Spells.

As she casts a glance at the stick on her dresser a heavy feeling settles in her stomach.

Spells. Wands. All the secrecy.

Everything inside her head flies apart as she realizes that her family practices witchcraft.

And she feels the inexplicable urge in her chest to run.

……

'mistero' mystery. Yeah, that one's kinda obvious, huh?