We drink our tea together and I look out the window, into what should be the Addo’s backyard. Instead, it’s a briar patch of overgrown plants that block the view like threads of green thorny curtains. I consider the tangle outside for so long that Addo begins to hum. It pulls me back from my wondering and I feel rude, sitting there ignoring him in his own house.
“I’m sorry.” I say.
“For what?” Addo asks. “I was just giving you some background music. No good?”
“Shouldn’t you...I don’t know...move or something? Lock your doors at least?”
“Bah. Don’t worry about them. The Furis can plot and plan all they like. What should be, will be. Besides, it keeps them occupied.” Addo looks at the empty cookie plate and sighs. He runs a hand over his mushroom cap of hair. “Let’s get back to what’s important, shall we? Aside from Evangeline and Prince Charming, what else do you have to base a decision on?”
I turn all the reasons over again in my head and then one falls out like a shiny gum wrapper.
“I want to protect my mom.” I say. It is so easy, so sparklingly simple, that I know it is the right answer. It feels right, as if my whole body relaxes when I say it and an anchor drops into my shoes. Addo could ask me for another reason, but this is the one I’d have to give him again, over and over.
“Yuppity yup yup. That’s the one.” Addo says with a smile.
“I could do that? It’d be my job to just protect my mom?” I ask.
“I’m going to say, yes.” he says. “Some folks might tell you that I’m your first priority, but if that comes up, you tell them that I said, meh. There’s plenty of them to handle what comes my way. If you choose this path, your mother will be your main concern.”
He grins almost as if he’s sad. Maybe he thinks I’m selfish for only worrying about protecting my mom, or maybe he really is sorry to lose out on an extra body guard. I don’t know. But his agreement is what seals it for me.
“Then that’s what I want to do.” I say. “I’d like to be Contego.”
“Noble.” he says with a smile. “I just wish we had more cookies to celebrate.”
“Then you’ll Impression me?”
“Certainly. If that’s your decision.”
“It is.” I nod.
“Tomorrow, then.” He gets right to his feet. “Early. And come with a good spirit.”
I stand and exhale, a wave of unexpected peace rolling through me. Maybe it is just making the decision that does it or maybe it is the feeling that I can finally be sure my mom’s safe. Or it could be that the Addo seems satisfied. I try not to even consider how Garrett will react, even though my body feels light and floaty each time I think of telling him.
I carry my tea cup to the Addo’s sink. The hard petals are in the bottom of my cup again and I wonder if they were always there and will always stay there. And something occurs to me.
“Addo? I’ve got one more question.”
“Mmm hmm?” His hum turns up at the end. I think of him looking into my cup yesterday and how I already made my decision yesterday and how I made a different one today. I wait until Addo looks into my eyes and then I send my question silently at him, aiming it with a burst, into the depth of his retina.
He flinches, as if something small has flown into his face, but then he giggles.
“No need to use a ramrod, my dear. Now we know you are quite good at projection also. But you are correct, Nalena. There was no other choice for you...” He pauses with a deeper grin.
In my head I hear him say, Except the right one. Duh.
He sweeps his arm in a gentlemanly gesture for me to lead the way to the door. When I reach for the knob to let myself out, Addo’s voice echoes in my head, Good spirit tomorrow and don’t forget, it’s your turn to bring the cookies.
This time I laugh as I step out onto the wobbly steps.
~ * * * ~
Garrett’s seat is reclined slightly and he’s looking out the driver’s window as I walk up on the opposite side. His thumb is hooked under his chin and he stops rubbing his upper lip as he watches a car come down the street. He flips the locks when I tap, keeping his thumb on the switch. I slide in but he doesn’t look at me until the advancing car loops away down a side street. The engine idles but he doesn’t put the car in drive even after I hook my seatbelt.
“Did you tell him what you wanted?” Garrett asks, his fingers smooth over his lip again as he looks out his window.
“Yeah.” I say. “I need to come back tomorrow. With a good spirit.”
“You chose Contego?”
I’ve got his full attention now. I try to sound like I know what I’m doing when I tell him that he heard right. And then, because the happiness on his face makes me feel like I could tell him anything and he would understand it, I say, “Looks like we can just be friends now.”
“What?” His grin falls abruptly. I feel my own smile falter at the corners as he moves his hand into his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You made your decision so we could be friends?”
It’s a little insulting. No, scratch that. It’s heaps and oceans and all-the-way-to-China-and-back insulting. I had expected something so different. That his face would light up or that he’d congratulate me or hug me or maybe even kiss me. That he’d tell me he wanted more than friendship. Not that he would hold his hair out of his eyes so he can glare at me.
“Vain a little?” I shoot back and I make a pshht sound, as if he’s the stupid one. He doesn’t need to know that my heart just went from soaring to flopping around like a poisoned fish in the bog of my stomach. “It’s not like I’m planning my life based on you. I did it for my mom.”
He lets go of his hair and it drops down like a curtain. He looks straight ahead, over the steering wheel.
“Well, I’m happy for you.” he says, but there is a sharp edge to his tone that makes it hard to tell which one of us he means to be cutting.
What do I say to that? What did he mean if he didn’t mean it the way it sounded? Whatever he means, my decision, even though it still feels solid and right, has just lost all of its sparkle.
A car eases down the street toward us and Garrett puts the car in drive and pulls us smoothly away from the curb. He waves to the other car as it slides into the spot we left behind.
“Who is that?” I ask. It’s a bland enough question. Safe for even an acquaintance to ask.
“The next watch for the Addo.” he says.
“There was a phone call when I was in there,” I say.
“Yeah, the Fury keeps tabs on the Addo’s by calling him.” Garrett explains, but his tone is all business. It makes me lonely. “They’re like fighting against little kids. They call him and then they show up and we haul them away. But we’re still keeping a closer watch since they’ve been popping up so much.”
He drives us down the street, the silence becoming so loud that I think my eardrums are going to turn inside out. It’s nothing compared to the stack of dead moths in my stomach.
“You’re going to have to tell your mom when we get back.” he finally says. “You need to be sure to go to the Addo’s tomorrow with a good spirit.”
I nod, but I wonder just how that’s going to happen now.
~ * * * ~
I don’t know how to tell my mom, so I just say it. And it comes out fast – like I’m hurking up word vomit. I stand beside her at the Reese’s dining room table and when I’m done, I’m not sure that she’s caught anything I’ve said. The bottoms of my feet ache. The house is a tomb. It feels even quieter than that with my mom paused over her paper. Garrett stands a foot or two behind me. As if he’ll step in or catch me, whichever needs to happen. I’m glad he’s there, no matter what he thinks of me. I shift my weight to one foot, then back again. My mom lays her pen down as if it is to heavy to hold any longer.
“Oh Nalena.” Her voice is small and exhausted. It makes me feel ashamed. I switch feet again. “You didn’t listen to anything I told you, did you?
“I did, Mom...”
“He called again.”
“Roger?” Garrett steps closer. “Did you let my parents know?”
My mom just shakes her head and looks up at me. Her eyes press into mine, erasing everything else in the room, including Garrett. It’s just me and her and the worried crinkle between her eyes. The way it’s always been.
“He knew you were at the Addo’s house again.” she says. “I told him you didn’t want anything to do with the Cusp and that you were going there to choose a Simple Life. I think he’s going to leave us alone.”
I try to smile. “Really?”
“I think so.” A smile flutters on her lips. “You see how things work out? You don’t have to worry about protecting me at all.”
“Mom,” I take a breath and spit it all out. “I didn’t tell the Addo I wanted a Simple Life.”
“Oh no, Nalena.” She gasps. I think of all the times I’ve seen her look like she does right now. The profile of it, as she held me up on my bike without the training wheels; the first day of kindergarten, when she stood in the doorway waving good-bye; hovering, a dozen different times, over my bed as my brain pulsed with a headache or my stomach churned or my skin blazed. But the most worried I’ve ever seen her, the worry that left the permanent crease that I can see now under bright lights, was the night that we sat in the emergency room, as she stared at the arm my father broke, cradled in my lap. And I understand now, as much as my mom wants to keep me safe, I want just as badly to keep her safe too. I need it even more than she does. She lived without me before, but I’ve never had to live without her.
“If he’s part of the Fury or if any of the conspiracy stuff that Garrett was talking about is true, then I still want to be able to protect both of us.”
“A Cusp could mean wars, Nalena.” her voice quivers as she reaches for my hand. “Death. Things you can’t even believe. It’s not like the movies where the good guys always win. You don’t know how horrible it can be.”
“I don’t want to be the person that had a chance to stop it all from happening and didn’t.” I tell her. My palm tingles in her grasp. “I want a life that is worth living. I can’t stand on the sidelines and watch everything happen. Especially when you’re in the middle of it.”
“But you’re my daughter. My baby.” She reaches up and pushes strands of hair behind my ear. Her eyes fill and she blinks to hold the tears back. “It’s not your job to protect me. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you.”
“Please, Mom. If you believe in what you do, then you should believe it’s what I’m supposed to do too. It feels right. It is right. But I need you to be okay with it. Please.”
One tear glazes over the rim of her eye and drops onto her cheek. She doesn’t let go of my hand to wipe it away.
“Okay.” she says. Then, with more finality, “Okay. I’m with you.”
I hear Garrett’s relieved sigh like a small explosion behind me. It relaxes me and I sigh too. I smile at my mom. We’re all on the same team. It’s going to be okay.
“You’ll need to go to the Addo’s with a good spirit tomorrow.” she says. “And I know just the right one.”
Chapter 16
“What do you mean you know the right one?” I gulp. My mind flips through my Rolodex-memory of horror movies. First I think, She can’t mean ghosts, and then I think, Of course she means ghosts. That’s what she does. She writes dead people’s memories. Which makes them spirits. But I never thought she actually talked to them! I shiver like I’m wearing a coat of cob webs.
My mom does a half-hearted giggle as she wipes her eyes. “You should know her. You picked her yourself.”
“That’s pretty remarkable.” Garrett nods approvingly.
“What are you talking about? I never picked anything!” I say, but Garrett’s gaze is as proud as if I’d just won a medal. But I know I’ve never picked any one. I’m positive.
“Sure you did.” my mom says. “It wasn’t that long ago either. Grace, one, saves us all. Remember?”
I do remember. That name, chosen out of the thousands piled up all around me, was completely random. I’d asked my mom a zillion times to finish a story and the last time I’d asked, I’d finally understood that she probably never would. Even so, I kept hoping she’d change her mind. The name and the story stuck in my head like the shadow of that hope. It’s a complete coincidence that I even remember it now.
“I’ve asked you about a ton of names before. Not just that one.”
“They were all possibilities.” my mom says. My jaw is open again, I feel it. My mom, however, crushes her bottom lip against her top one. She used to do this when I had Algebra problems that she couldn’t explain easily. “Souls that have experience in the areas we are working on, come to help. I believe Grace is still waiting to help you.”
“This is nuts.” I glance at Garrett to verify that my mom is finally out of her tree, but he just tips his head at me with a proud grin. It’s that smile, his one tooth showing that shouldn’t, that makes me feel surrounded and insulated and safe. And a little nuts.
“I remember feeling like that too.” my mom says. Her expression is part sympathy but mostly just amused. “Nutty as it might be, this is still part of the Impressioning process. I want an exceptional spirit with you if you’re going to do this, so let’s go meet Grace.”
~ * * * ~
We walk out to the Koi pond. The minute my mom stops walking, Garrett reaches down, scoops up the same rock Brandon had heaved at me yesterday, and whips it at me again. Hard. My field blows up around me and this time, I stand away from myself, watching the rock hurtling toward me as if it is happening to someone else. My body reacts, the muscles shifting to pull my bones easily out of harm’s way. My heart is beating like a hammer against a metal. It’s a beautiful dance between space and the rock and me, and I keep watching in awe until the rock hits the ground behind me and I am yanked back inside my skin.
“Excellent.” my mom says.
“Impressive.” Garrett congratulates me in a murmur.
“Stop throwing stuff at me.” I tell him, but I feel like I’ve got about as much power over my grin as I do over the ripcord of my field.
“All right, let’s do this.” my mom says. She reaches out her left hand to me so I can take it with my own good hand. Our touch stays light in one another’s grasp.
“I’m going to squeeze your hand.” she instructs. “When I do, we are going to be joined and then I’ll invite Grace to meet you. Just relax and I’ll take care of everything. Here we go...”
I am about to ask what needs to be taken care of and where this Grace is going to come from, and if she’s going to look like a skeleton or the grim reaper or Casper—but my mom’s hand clamps down on mine. I am locked in place, my body goes rigid as iron. I couldn’t wrench my hand free from my mom’s grip if I wanted to. Our hands meld together like a door hinge, but without the ability to move.
My mom’s thumb pushes against the knuckle of my middle finger and her own middle finger presses against my wrist. Her eyes close and the furrow between them smoothes like she is having a good dream. Except that it doesn’t look like she’s breathing either. I try to say her name, but my vocal cords aren’t working. I try to shake our locked hands to get her attention, but our hands are too heavy to move. My casted arm is paralyzed at my side. I fight down the fear and remember my mantra. I repeat ‘Mom’ over and over in my head at warp speed.
I’m about to close my eyes too when something flutters beside my head. It’s a soft, pink petal, transparent as tissue. Then a blue petal catches my eye and when I twist my head to follow it, an emerald petal floats past me. Then a gold. A lilac. Silver. Ebony. Ruby. Peach. The colors are muted and lovely and as I watch them swim past me, my pulse slows to a normal beat. The number of petals increase and they swirl around us in a soft, rhythmic cyclone, until the Reese’s backyard disappears in a tinted blur of petals. Garrett, smiling, vanishes slowly behind the mosaic of
sheer petals too.
I never thought about my mom having a field. It’s nothing like mine. My mom’s field is paper thin, as if the touch of a fingertip could rip it wide open. My body and my spirit stay intact inside her field, but my body is not poised like it is when I’m inside my own field. I am as peaceful as sunshine.
My mom opens her eyes. Whatever expression I’ve got plastered on my face must be good because she smiles.
Ready to meet Grace? she asks, but her words aren’t in my ears. They’re more like thoughts that occur to me, like her ideas dance up softly from my own cells. Her communication is more soothing inside my head than the Addo’s.
Not really. I project my answer back to her but have no idea whether or not she hears it until she nods.
You’ll be fine. I’m going to call for Grace now. she tells me wordlessly. Then she closes her eyes again and before I can be frightened of her retreating behind her lids, I hear something that is like music, but isn’t. It’s a note or a deep chord, a sound that happens in layers. It makes me think of the humming of whales. I don’t hear Grace’s name in it at all. I hear a sound so tranquil, I nearly shut my eyes and miss seeing her.
Grace’s face is small and round and her hair is in three ponytails, one on each side and one on top of her head. She’s so pretty, I catch my breath and am afraid to let it back out, in case it scares her away. Her ponytails are wispy like Iris’s, but her huge, green-gray eyes are like the sun-lit depths of an ocean. She doesn’t look like a one year old. She looks to be maybe two as she peeks out from behind my mom’s leg. She giggles, the sound of it tickling in my head. She has a perfect little dimple in her right cheek.
I’m getting ready to be born. she says.
I’m getting ready to be... I stop, not knowing what to say exactly. Nothing sounds very impressive next to being born. Does she even know what Contego is? Why would a tiny girl like this care if I am a warrior? How could she be a soul with experience if she hasn’t even been born yet?
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