If you have this letter, though, it’s because I didn’t make it to the lunar eclipse and never gained the power you helped me to earn. But I cherish my portrait for so many reasons, regardless. And I figured “tell her true” didn’t just make it okay for me to reveal who I am to you—it was something I had to do. Maybe I was supposed to have told you about my feelings for you, instead of my other secrets. Who knows . . .
Something terrible must have happened to me, as unlikely as I think that is. Probably the one of whom I was to beware got to me. I have spent hours every day puzzling over this, and I don’t think I’ve ever come close to figuring it out. I’m so sorry for being suspicious of everyone (unless it turns out one of them is the Unkind)! All I can say is, I was grasping at anything that might make sense. Who knows, maybe it really is someone who is seventeen and I haven’t found out who. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.
If I am gone, I don’t want you to pursue this, though. Please don’t. It will only put you in danger, and I won’t have it. There are so many things I wish I understood better, and I can’t give you any proof, but I have a deep feeling there is more than one person behind this darkness. If only I were more experienced! I would have been capable of so much more, and things would have turned out so differently.
What I really want to say is, please be careful. I would ask you to turn your back on everything I’ve told you and eventually this whole crazy secret world will close up, like a wall that used to have a door in it. But I don’t think you can. I think you have a place in this strange world. And you have Tomasi, so I can’t imagine it another way. Just be happy, please? And remember me as a devoted friend. The one who loved you more than you could ever know.
XOXO
Mariette
Celia wiped her eyes and put down the letter. She remembered the day she met Mariette, a bundle of perpetual motion, like the hummingbird they had seen outside the window. Mariette never had spent a moment waiting for her life to start. She simply had lived it, following anything that excited her in whatever direction it led.
The number seventeen was perhaps the last mystery to solve, but now, with everything she knew, Celia untangled that knot easily. Mariette even had rattled it off on the bus to the field trip back in September. Seventeen was the atomic number of chlorine, and chlorine was such an obvious marker for a high school chemistry teacher who was also the swim coach! Celia cursed the admonitions, cursed whatever gods were responsible for writing them. She didn’t care if she was calling their wrath down on her.
Mariette had been in love with her. She could see it now. She understood why Mariette had been crying that day in the bathroom, and what her kiss on Celia’s cheek on her birthday had meant. Celia folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. On her dresser next to Liz’s poetry box sat the carved wooden box the Rosary had given her for her birthday. It already contained the amulet and chain she had taken from around Mariette’s neck. She opened the box and put the letter inside.
Celia went through her old sketchbook to find the single page she had hidden there last fall. She reread what she now knew was Mr. Sumeletso’s admonition, wondering if any of it would make more sense this time. But the words still swam around on the page, offering her fragments she understood and plenty that was still unclear. She tucked it back into the sketchbook she carried with her, thinking it didn’t make a difference now. And she had a feeling she would look at it again in the days to come.
CELIA WAS LATE COMING DOWN to the lobby after school, and she didn't find any of the Rosary there. She made her way out to the parking lot and found the five of them over by their cars. They didn't seem to be looking for her. Regine stood in front of Ivo, her body angled at him like a knife, and he was motionless, arms folded, looking away from her. The others stood by, watching uncomfortably.
As Celia approached, Regine was shouting. “I knew I wasn’t being paranoid. I mean, it’s only two weeks until prom”—Regine spit out the short word Celia knew she hated—“and you still haven’t asked me? I thought, how long is he planning on waiting? But no, you weren’t going to ask me anyway!” Other students stared, and this time the Rosary looked around nervously, but Regine looked only at Ivo.
“What do you want me to say?” Ivo asked her.
“Why don’t you like me?” Regine was crying, but her rage trumped her despair, and her body stayed on the offensive.
“How am I supposed to answer that? You know I like you as a friend. You are so important to me—”
“Of course we’re friends! Except I’m the idiot who’s been fooling herself for years while the rest of you”—Regine whirled around to accuse the rest of them—“watched and snickered!”
Liz spoke up. “What did you want us to do? If I had said, ‘Regine, I don’t think Ivo likes you that way,’ what would you have done? I bet you would have lashed out at me the same way you’re lashing out at him now!”
“I can’t believe this!” Regine ran to her car, yanked open the door, and got in. The rest of them stepped out of the way as she backed out and drove off. Before she was even out of the parking lot, Regine’s car was going faster than Celia had ever seen it, though that wasn’t saying very much.
“Oh my god,” Celia said. The others looked at her, and she said helplessly, “She didn’t even put on her driving gloves.”
“Well, I think we all saw that coming,” Brenden said. “I feel horrible for her.”
“So she asked you why you hadn’t asked her to prom?” Liz asked Ivo. Ivo nodded. “And what did you say?”
“That I’d asked Isadore from Diaboliques,” he said.
“You asked her?”
“I want to go with her! Why shouldn’t I ask her?”
“Of course, but don’t you see how that’s a double whammy for Regine?” Liz remonstrated with him.
“What are we going to do?” Brenden asked.
“I don’t know,” Ivo said, rubbing his forehead. “This is my fault. I tried my best to avoid this all year, and it didn’t work.”
“We wondered why you kept going along with it,” Brenden said.
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings! And I didn’t want to mess up what we have, all of us. I didn’t know what else to do. I guess that didn’t turn out so well.”
They stood there for a little, each pondering the situation. Finally Brenden said, “Come on, Celia, we’ll give you a ride home. There’s no point in standing around here.”
Celia got into the back seat of Brenden’s car and they drove away at the usual speed. Celia felt a little guilty. This was such a normal high school thing, and after all the decidedly un-high-school-like things that had happened to Celia, it was a relief, in some crazy way, to be thinking about things as silly and unthreatening as crushes and prom. The guys in the front seat had stayed quiet. Eventually Marco said, “Wow. Regine was really pissed. What’s going to happen?”
“Well, if nothing changes, it’s going to be very chilly between them, and I don’t see it getting warmer before school’s over,” Brenden said.
“They’ll avoid each other, and we’ll get stuck choosing sides whether we like it or not,” Marco said. “It’s going to be miserable.”
“So we have to find a way to change it,” Celia said. Compared with her problems about which the Rosary knew nothing, this had to be completely manageable somehow.
“Do you have any ideas?” Brenden’s eyes found her in the rearview mirror.
“Maybe.” Celia hoped what she wanted to say would sort itself out as she spoke. “When I met all of you at the beginning of the year, it was clear you all are very devoted to each other—maybe too devoted. Think about it. If you guys weren’t together, could you imagine dating someone outside the Rosary? Liz can’t. Am I wrong, or has she kept Skip at bay all this time because of her devotion to you—to us? It’s great for the group, but maybe it’s a little too insulated sometimes.
“When Regine realized she liked Ivo, she must have thought it made sense
. You guys are a couple, so why shouldn’t she and Ivo be one, too? Of course it’s not that simple, but at least she could see it as a possibility. I’m sure she thought how perfect it would be.
“Now we know that’s not going to happen, so what’s left? Your devotion to the Rosary. Regine leaves her house forty minutes earlier than she has to every morning so we can make the rounds and arrive at school together. When my curfew was earlier than the rest of yours, we all left Diaboliques together, even though you could have stayed hours later. Because you have to go to the school dances, Brenden, we all go with you to keep you company. When my friend died, you all came to be with me at the funeral. That’s how it’s been, all year.
“What is going to help us through this situation? The fact that our devotion to each other trumps everything else, including unrequited love.”
“That’s great, but what does it mean for this situation, now? What is Ivo supposed to do?” Brenden asked.
“I don’t know how strongly he feels about taking Isadore to prom, but I would say the only thing that could replace Regine’s desire to go to prom with Ivo would be her desire to go to prom with all of us.”
“We all go together.” Marco considered the idea.
“I think that’s the only alternative Regine could accept. She won’t get Ivo, but she gets to have us all.”
“That’s very wise,” Marco said. “It makes a lot of sense.”
“So we have to convince Ivo to have his date with Isadore on another night, and then convince Regine we all want to go together and that that’s more important than any of us having individual dates,” Brenden said.
“You can make it up to me afterward.” Marco smiled at him.
“I will.” Brenden patted his knee. “Celia, I think we have to try it. If I talk to Ivo, will you talk to Regine?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’d be happy to.”
At her house, Brenden and Marco got out and hugged her. “It’s a good thing Regine found you,” Brenden said.
“See you tomorrow!” Celia kissed them both on the cheek.
After dinner Brenden called Celia to tell her he had convinced Ivo to go along with her idea. Celia dialed Regine, and some time later it was settled. Marco immediately went to work to coordinate their outfits.
Being able to make something better—to resolve something, even if it was as foolish as plans for prom—helped Celia feel like her grasp on reality was restored. Mariette was gone, and nothing would change that. But so was Mr. Sumeletso, which meant that school was just school again. She could feel happy and sad about the same things as everyone else. Life was returning to normal, at least a little bit. Celia spent a moment hoping she would attend a prom with Tomasi. It was a lovely thought, a lovely feeling, and then she set it aside for next year.
23. BIG NIGHT MUSIC
CELIA STOOD IN FRONT of her mirror in Marco’s finished gown. Her mother had helped her put her hair up in a twist. She pulled on elbow-length gloves and stepped into her heels. When she looked out the window on her way downstairs, she was surprised to see all three black cars pull up in front of her house.
“We thought it was appropriate to reverse the order,” Brenden said when she opened the door.
“You all look amazing!” Celia welcomed them in.
Marco had a white lily corsage for her that matched the other girls’ and the boutonnières on the guys’ lapels. They arranged themselves in a tableau in her living room, and Celia’s mother took pictures. Then they went out to the cars and did it again. Mrs. Balaustine whispered to Celia, “I wish your dad could have seen you tonight.”
“Me too!” Celia hugged her.
In the car, Regine said, “Thank you so much for helping me get through this.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Celia said. “And I’m glad we’re doing this together, anyway. I know we still have the summer before the others go off to college, but this may be the last opportunity we have to do something as special as this.”
“It’s going to be really tacky,” Regine giggled.
“What do you mean? It’s going to be awesome,” Celia countered with a smile.
They pulled into the parking lot of the country club, and Celia remembered the first day, standing in the school parking lot with these strangers, wondering what was going to happen next. Now she knew how to walk deliberately, as they did, with the pride and indifference that was the trademark of the Rosary. The moon overhead was a slender crescent. It would be full, and eclipsed, in a matter of weeks. Around them, girls in confectionery-colored dresses and boys in ill-fitting tuxedos rustled by, and she wondered how they would remember this night. The Rosary made their way to the entrance and a man in livery opened the door for them. “Where’s Rufus when you need him?” Brenden asked. He raised his voice and said, “Twinkle, twinkle!” to which they all replied, “Release the bats!”
The ballroom was darker and more elegant than Celia had expected. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Diaboliques, but she judged it a decent fit for the Rosary. They took a table and looked around at the rest of the students, who slouched in their chairs and played with their napkins. It’s just an overdressed high school cafeteria, Celia thought, and the Rosary soon turned back to their table.
“I’m glad we’re here,” Regine said. “And I’m sorry again for freaking out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brenden said. “I think we’re all glad it turned out this way.”
“Good,” Liz said. “What did you bring for the DJ, Brenden?”
“ ‘Nemesis’ by Shriekback,” he said. “A song about the apocalypse seemed fitting.”
“We should be so lucky.” Liz smiled.
After dinner the Rosary idly watched the dancing, arranged around their table like a royal court sitting for a portrait. Soon Skip made his way toward them. Celia admired him for still wearing all the pieces of his tuxedo, since most of the guys had shed jackets, ties, and cummerbunds by then. It was the first time she ever had seen him not wearing something orange.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a night out without a visit from Skip,” Ivo said.
“Shut up,” Liz retorted.
Skip stopped in front of them. “Hey, everybody,” he said.
“Hi.” Celia gave him a smile. She didn’t care if she was deviating from the Rosary’s code of detachment. Now that she knew for sure that Skip was nothing more than a goodhearted citizen, it felt good to be kind to him.
He smiled at Celia but quickly returned to his purpose. “Hi, Liz.”
“Hi, Skip. Where’s your date?”
“I didn’t bring one. Remember last time? We decided I should come alone to the next one.”
“We did?”
“Well, I did. Would you like to dance?”
“Not to this song,” Liz said.
“C’mon, Liz, give him a break. He’s really putting himself out there,” Marco said.
“Stay out of this! If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does!”
“What’s to stay out of? All I know is he’s been really nice to you, and you’ve been really cold to him, but you look at him every chance you get. Why don’t you tell me what it is I’m supposed to stay out of?”
“Screw you guys.” Liz got up and walked off, her black full skirt cutting a swath through the candy-colored dresses.
“Should I go after her?” Skip asked.
“Why don’t you stay here,” Marco said. “She has to come back eventually, and maybe you can explain some things to us in the meantime.”
“Sit down.” Celia patted the seat next to her that Liz had vacated. Skip looked after Liz for a moment, then sat down. “See, if we didn’t know any better, we’d say Liz likes you. We even wonder if you guys have some history together.”
“We do—back in first year,” Skip said. He paused between each sentence, as if he were trying to decide how to tell the story. “We went out for a while, and I thought it was going well.
Then she broke it off. I got over it, because I didn’t have much of a choice, but I still care about her, and I wish we had at least stayed friends.”
“Did you know about this?” Brenden asked Ivo.
“Of course I did,” Ivo said.
“So what happened, then?”
Ivo looked at Brenden as though the answer were obvious. “We were starting to get into alternative things. We were starting to do the things we do now. And Liz couldn’t imagine having a boyfriend who looked like this.” Ivo gestured at Skip.
“Seriously? Are you kidding? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Marco said.
“It’s not that simple, and you know it,” Ivo rebuked him. “Anyway, I’m not saying it was right. I’m just telling you what happened.”
“But she’s never dated anyone else, has she?” Brenden asked. “And clearly she still has feelings for you,” he said to Skip.
“And I like her, too. I mean, we’re going to graduate in a week and go off to college, so it’s not like I’m trying to get back together with her. I’ve just been thinking back over high school, and it feels like we’ve never really made peace with everything that happened.”
“What can we do?” Celia asked.
“There’s nothing to do,” Ivo said. “This isn’t some after-school special on TV. Liz makes her own choices, and that’s all.”
“But if she’s really avoiding Skip because of some Capulet and Montague, upstairs-downstairs thing, couldn’t we at least let her know that it doesn’t matter to us?” Marco asked.
Celia got up. “I’m going to see where she is.” She headed off in the direction Liz had gone. Outside the ballroom the dimly lit hall that led to a side entrance was empty, but on a hunch she went down it and pushed though the double doors that opened onto a small side lobby. Liz sat there on the floor, her back to the wall, knees to her chest, her clutch at her side. The aroma of pine trees and the sound of the breeze drifted in through the open outer door.
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