by Douglas Rees
"How okay are you?" I said. "What was that thing with the hand? Why did everybody stand up?"
"That thing with the hand is a gesture among us," Ileana said, gasping to keep from laughing. "It means now the same thing as saying 'okay/ But long ago it meant 1 have feasted.'"
"Cute," I said.
"And the reason everyone stood up is because they cannot remain seated in my presence on such a day. And the reason I stood up is to honor you, poet-knight of Illyria."
Under the table she took my hand and squeezed it.
"Oh. Well. Hey," I said. I could feel myself blushing.
She nodded to the musicians, and they started playing again. The desserts came in and were whisked down in front of us. When the covers came off the plates, I saw that Justin and I had two each. Nobody else did.
"Eat," Ileana said. "You must restore your sugars. It is little enough."
As usual with jenti food, I didn't know what I was eating, and I'd never tasted anything better.
While I was eating, Ileana whispered, "I heard about what you said to Erzabet and Marie. That was quite funny, though very rude. I will wager no one has called them vampires to their faces before in their lives."
Then Gregor said something to her, and she turned to answer him.
"Have you met Marie and Erzabet?" I asked Justin. "Geez."
"No, but I bet I know the kind you're talking about," Justin said. "Real Old Country, right?"
"We are true Transylvanians," I said, trying to copy their accent. "They made me feel like a bug."
Justin laughed.
"That kind don't think much of American jenti, either," he said. "Don't worry about them. I think they're really kind of jealous of what we have here."
"I can see why they would be," I said, looking around the ballroom. "This place must be worth a fortune."
"I didn't mean that," Justin said. "Most of these folks have plenty of money. I was thinking about the freedom."
"They've got freedom in Europe," I said.
"Not like we have it here," he said. "I'm talking about the freedom to be what you want. Do what you want with your life. Maybe you think the jenti in New Sodom haven't got much, compared to the gadje. Maybe we haven't. But compared to the old ways, we've come pretty far. And in Europe they've stayed behind."
"Marie was saying that in Europe Ileana would already know who her husband would be," I said.
"She'd know a lot more than that," Justin said. "But she'd be kind of a special case, even in Europe."
"Heck, she'd be a special case anywhere," I said.
"Yeah, but you know what I mean," Justin said.
I was just about to ask him what he did mean, but Ileana rang a small crystal bell sitting in front of her, and the whole room was filled with that delicate sound.
The music stopped and everyone looked at her.
She stood up.
"Forgive me, friends, if I speak in English rather than the ancestral speech," she said. "But there are some among us today who do not know our mother tongue, and I would not exclude them from what I have to say. And also, I am an American. This is the language I use most every day. And I love the beauty of English very much."
There was a little stir out there at the tables. It sounded like leather wings rustling.
Ileana went on. "I wish to thank you all for honoring me with your presence here today. Among us a girl's Fifteenth is one of the most important days of her life. To be able to share it with so many who mean so much to my family and me is a dear splendor."
She turned to her father, who was sitting at the head of the first table on her right.
"First, I wish to thank the father who loved my mother so much and came together with her to bring me life. And I thank the mother who brought me out of darkness and into light."
She bowed slightly to her mother, who smiled.
"I wish to thank all the uncles and aunts and cousins and friends from abroad who have connected me to the old ways and taught me their sweetness. But I wish to thank also the friends I have made who are different from us for teaching me the sweetness of the new."
I heard that rustle again. I didn't think they liked what they were hearing.
"We are a great people," Ileana said. "Nothing has ever defeated or destroyed us. We are strong as the stones
in our Mother Earth. And because we are, we can afford to be less afraid. The world has changed and is changing. I believe we are being called to a new kind of greatness, a time when jenti and gadje will have no fear of each other."
I'm not sure, but I think Gregor growled at that point.
Ileana said just one more thing. "I believe that time has come."
She rang the little bell once more and sat down. The music started again.
Under his breath, so that only I could hear, Justin whistled the first few notes of "The Star-Spangled Banner" and added "Oh, boy," like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"What?" I whispered.
"Later," he said.
"Now," I said, but as I said it the presents were brought in.
There were hundreds of them, piled up on carts the size of pickup trucks.
One by one, they were unwrapped by Szasz while Ig-natz read out the cards that said who each gift was from.
They were the sort of presents any girl gets when she turns fifteen. Antique jewelry, sculptures, paintings, a couple of land grants, the deed to a diamond mine in South Africa, just the usual stuff.
As each gift was announced, the jenti applauded. They clapped in unison, starting slowly and working up to a speed so high they couldn't keep together anymore, when the rhythm dissolved into a wave of pleasure.
After each gift, Ileana said something to the giver.
All this took quite a while, and that gave me plenty of time to compare my gift with the others. I felt myself getting smaller and smaller inside. And more and more confused. How did Ileana rate so high with these people? What was I missing?
About halfway through the proceedings, Szasz unwrapped the gift from Cody Elliot. Ignatz held it up and announced, "The gift of Master Cody Elliot. A book, the title of which is . . ." He paused, flipped through the book, and said, "A blank book with . . . objects pasted onto some of the pages?"
Gregor laughed. A few other people tittered.
"Let me see it," Ileana commanded, and I mean she commanded.
Ignatz brought it up to her.
Ileana flipped through the pages carefully. "A page of clouds," she said. "A page of beautiful feathers from my favorite bird. Golden oak leaves. And here on the last page, the stars. My own stars. Yes. And the rest of the pages for me to fill in with the days of my life." She turned to me. "Thank you, friend. You are always so generous to me."
She put the book beside her and sat down.
Ileana's mother started the clapping, but this time only a few people joined in, and it died out almost as soon as it began. Szasz held up the next gift.
Finally, the whole hideous thing was over. The carts were wheeled away, the tables were carried out of the room, and the orchestra started again. Now they were playing wild Gypsy music, and the jenti, the perfect, controlled jenti, started dancing to it.
It was incredible. They threw themselves around the room like a pack of dogs fighting. I didn't even know people could bend like that, let alone do it in formal clothes. And they did it with perfect control. Nobody ever bumped into anybody else, or even missed a step.
And who danced with Ileana? Gregor. He lifted her and spun her like she was cotton candy. Ileana moved with him like she was part of his arm. And nobody tried to cut in on him.
I hated it.
"He's holding her pretty close for a cousin," I said to Justin at one point.
"There are cousins and cousins," Justin said.
"Meaning what exactly?"
"A lot of people expect them to get married," Justin said.
"What? But they're related."
"A lot of people marry people they're
related to," Justin said. "I'll bet you didn't know that more than half of all the presidents have been related to at least one other president."
"Gregor is not going to be president," I snapped.
"No, but Ileana's going to be kind of a queen someday," Justin said.
"Oh, give me a break."
Justin looked at me funny. "You don't know, do you? She never told you." He shook his head. "She should have. I wonder why she didn't."
"What are you talking about?"
"The jenti sort of have their own royalty," Justin said.
"Ileana's pretty high up. Her mother is queen of the jenti in a lot of Europe. Here, too."
"This is America, she's an American," I said in my best Patrick Henry style. "We left that stuff behind a long time ago."
"Yep. But some of it follows some of us around," Justin said. "I don't think Ileana likes it much. But there's not a whole lot she can do about it."
"So she's got to marry Gregor just because some people think she's a queen? How does he rate?" I said, getting madder and madder.
"He's pretty high up, too."
"What's he? The king?"
"The jenti don't have kings, just queens," Justin said. "But he's high enough to marry her."
"This stinks. I'm getting out of here,"
"It's bad manners to leave before her mother does," Justin said.
"Who cares? I'm just a dumb gadje. Nobody wants me here anyway."
Justin put his hand on my sleeve. "She does. Don't leave without letting her know you're going."
I shook him off.
"I'm out of here," I said.
But Justin put his hand back and clamped down with all the strength of the vampire he was. "Look, don't run away without giving her a chance to say good-bye to you. You don't understand everything that's going on here."
"I understand enough," I said.
"No, I don't think so," Justin said. "You're probably the first gadje who's ever been invited to a Fifteenth.
You're definitely the first one who was ever invited to sit at the head table. And you're right, nobody else wants you here. Not her parents, not any of her relatives. And you can pretty well guess what Gregor thinks about it. Do you get what I'm saying?"
"No, and let go of me, damn it."
"Why would she do that?"
I didn't say anything.
"Now, wait here for a minute," Justin said. "Please, Cody. I don't want to have to break your legs."
So I sat there and fumed while Justin disappeared into the dancers. I waited a long time—it seemed like a long time—and finally I got tired of it. If Justin was going to break my legs, he was going to have to hunt me down first.
Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Please to come with me, sir," Ignatz said.
"I'm leaving," I said.
"I have no wish to detain you, sir, but your hosts have requested you particularly. Please to follow."
There's something about being asked nicely by a seven-foot-tall vampire that makes anything seem like a good idea, so I went down the hall with him into a little room filled with shadows and dim, warm light. Mr. An-tonescu was there with his wife and Ileana.
As I went in, Mrs. Antonescu curtsied to me. Mr. An-tonescu bowed.
"We understand you wish to leave," Mr. Antonescu said. "Please forgive us, Cody, that we did not thank you properly as soon as you came back with Justin. It seemed best not to interrupt Ileana's Fifteenth to do so. Perhaps
we were wrong. It is not always easy to know the proper thing to do, even with a lifetime of practice."
"It's not that," I said. "I—I just need to get home, that's all. I wouldn't have wanted you to interrupt Ileana's party."
"I wish now to do something improper," Mrs. An-tonescu said. And she kissed me on the cheek. "You are great of heart and generous."
"There are legends among the jenti about gadje like you," Mr. Antonescu said. "But I've never met one before."
"All I did was give a little blood."
"Yes. You gave it. You gave it without bargaining, or even being asked," Mrs. Antonescu said. "That is everything."
"You are in some danger of becoming a hero among us," Mr. Antonescu said.
"No," I said. "I mean, please don't tell anybody. It was no big deal."
"Mother and Father, may I speak to my friend alone for a moment?" Ileana asked.
Her parents looked at each other.
"Briefly, darling. You have guests," Mr. Antonescu said.
"Yes, Papa," she said.
Ileana stood there in the half light, looking like the queen she was. I couldn't think of a thing to say.
Finally, she said something. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"You know Justin is my oldest friend. You brought him here to me. It was noble of you."
"Nobility is just another free service we offer."
"Please," she said. "I know you are witty, but do not be witty just now. There is something I must tell you."
"If it's about Gregor, I already know."
"You do not know this. Even Justin does not know it. No one knows it but I . I will not marry Gregor, ever. If I ever marry anyone, it will be someone I wish to marry. Only someone I love."
"Oh. Well. Good," I said.
She looked at me like she was waiting for me to say something else.
"Good night," she said finally. "I must return to my party."
She walked past me, and as she did, she brushed my cheek with her lips.
I turned to her and tried to hold her, but I sort of lost my balance and ended up kissing the air when I was aiming for her face.
"My poet," she whispered.
Then she slipped away, and I heard the door click shut.
The big limo was as quiet as a graveyard at midnight. It had been waiting for me. Ignatz had seen me to the front door and even held an umbrella over my head while I got in. It had started to rain, and the windows were covered with coatings of silver. The chauffeur's head on the other side of the glass was the only other human thing in the world now. I mean, it was private.
Which gave me a lot of time to tell myself what a jerk I'd been. Couldn't even kiss a girl who wanted me to kiss her. But I'd been thrown off balance in more ways than
one. I still was. The most I'd hoped for was that maybe sometime soon Ileana would go to the movies with me. Now I'd found out she was some kind of a queen-in-training and was thinking about getting married. Hello, we're fifteen here! Let me finish my junior year first, at least.
Plus, there was that damn poet thing again.
And I loved Ileana, but how much? And did she love me? Or was I misreading her friendship and her gratitude for my helping Justin?
It felt like life had gotten suddenly serious. I had myself pretty well tied in knots by the time I got home.
Mom and Dad were watching another of their ancient movies when I went in.
"How was it, dear?" Mom said, reaching for the remote and freezing the image.
'All right," I said.
"Who gave you a lift home?" Dad asked.
"Ileana's chauffeur," I said.
"Ho, ho, ho," said Dad. "Were you being honored, or did they just want to get rid of you early?"
"They wanted to get rid of me early," I said. "I threw up in the punch bowl after we played spin the bottle."
"I just asked," Dad said.
"You made a joke," I said. "I made one back."
"Touche, Jack," Mom said.
"So may we take it that you did have a good time?" Dad asked.
"Memorable," I said. "It was memorable."
"Memorable is good," Mom said.
The picture on the screen was of some guy kissing the
girl he was in love with. He looked like he'd never missed a pair of lips in his life. He had it easy. All he had to do was look ahead to the last page of the script to see how it came out.
"You can start up your movie again. I'm going to bed," I said.
When the time came for me Monday morning, the chauffeur saluted and insisted on carrying my books. The other kids inside moved over for me. One made a double mocha on the espresso machine and offered it to me. And not one word of jenti did they speak until we got to school.
As soon as I hit the campus, I could feel that something was different. Up and down the halls, jenti nodded as they passed me. A few real outspoken ones even said "Good morning." From jenti, that was like being slapped on the back.
When I got to math class, Mr. Mach came over to my desk and said, "You know, Elliot, your work shows progress. I'm thinking of grading your papers in light of that. What do you think?"
"I think it's about time."
Mr. Mach nodded. "You're right, it is."
When I went into English, Shadwell caught me at the door.
"Ah, Elliot, how's the epic coming?"
I shook my head.
"Writer's block?" he asked.
"No, I'm just a lousy writer," I admitted.
"Well, let me know if I can help," he said. "God knows, the epic isn't the only form of literature. You may have other talents that you're not aware of. Of course, time is short. But if there's anything I can do." He gave me a little bow.
In social studies, Mr. Gibbon took me aside.
"I have noted considerable progress in your work, Elliot," he said. "But your grasp of the subtleties of this discipline leaves something to be desired."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Gibbon," I said. "I like social studies, but I just can't keep straight all the names of the people who were involved in the Second Defenestration of Prague in 1619."
"It was 1618, actually," Mr. Gibbon said. "But I should dislike to give you a less-than-passing grade. Perhaps we might consider a paper on some special topic of particular interest to you, which you might present to me. It would be factored into your overall grade."
"You mean a real research paper? For a real grade?"
"Exactly, Elliot," he said.
"You're on," I said. "But what kind of thing do you have in mind?"
"Oh, perhaps something pertaining to the history of the jenti in America," he said, looking at the ceiling. "Quite a few of us have made an impact, you know. Benedict Arnold. Aaron Burr. Jefferson Davis. A number of others. I suggest you consult Whittaker's The Silent Heritage, which is the standard work on the subject, and bring me your proposal by the end of the week."