This sort of New Age music swirled softly from the stereo speakers as Unity pulsed in a circle. Then the music changed, became more strident, discordant. Each form broke off by unzipping their connection to the fabric and stepping out. They wore different pastel-colorer bodysuits with hoods. Cece was yellow.
The beat pounded faster and the individuals, who were so serene moments before, began to jerk and writhe in agony. Cece opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I felt a chill race up my spine. This was no act. She hurt.
It went on for excruciating minutes. I couldn't watch. I had to watch. She mesmerized me. On cue, they all touched hands in the middle, their pain subsiding. The music grew slower, gentler, and the individuals moved toward the center, toward each other. Closer and closer until they were squeezed together tightly into one form, one unit, one multicoloured being.
The audience clapped and stomped and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Faith arched her eyebrows at me and said, “Cool."
“Really.”
After the show everyone congregated in the lobby, waiting to congratulate the performers. I spotted Cece with her fellow Unity members, laughing and jabbering, her face more animated than I'd ever seen it.
I weaved through the crowd to get to her. Be with her. Cece obviously knew a lot of these people; they kept hugging her and calling to her. An unexpected bout of self-consciousness seized me.
Cece’s eyes met mine and her face seemed to light up. She weaved through people, under arms and wine glasses. “You were fabulous," I told her when we met in the middle. I had the strongest urge to throw my arms around her, embrace her, but my muscles wouldn’t move. I sensed she wanted to hug me, too. She didn’t, and the spontaneity of the moment passed awkwardly between us.
She glanced over my shoulder, searching.
“He’s not here," I said.
She smiled. Smiled broader. "Did you really like it?” she asked.
“Yeah. It was fantastic. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.'
She blinked at me. “Did you understand it?"
“I, I think so. About the birth and breaking away and being alone. How painful alone can be. And then coming back togather, being one. Being Unity. And the joy in that.” I hesitated. "Right? Is that it?"
Another slow smile crept across her lips and up into her eyes. “It's whatever you want it to be.” Her focus shifted to something, someone beside me. “Hey, girlfriend." Cece flung her arms around Faith. "How are you?"
Why hadn’t she hugged me?
“Good," Faith answered. "You were awesome."
“Thanks.” Cece’s smile lit up the room again. She embraced Faith for a second time. “Faith, this is Holland,” she said. “Holland, Faith."
We both snorted.
Cece looked from Faith to me. "What?"
“She’s my sister." Faith thumbed.
"Stepsister," I corrected.
"No way," Cece said.
“Way," Faith responded.
"Wild." Cece shook her head. “Small world.”
“Too small," Faith stole my line.
Another girl from Unity touched Cece’s shoulder. “Ceese, we're going out back for a smoke. You want to come?"
“No," Cece said. "I quit."
The girl's eyebrows shot up. "You did? When? You didn’t tell me that.” The girl met my eyes and smiled. "Hi." She extended her hand. “I'm Joanie."
As I reached to shake it, Cece slapped down Joanie’s arm.
“Well, thanks for coming guys," Cece said quickly, pivoting to push Joanne back into the crowd, away from us. From me.
What was that about? I was hoping Cece would invite us – me – to join them – her. Or something. Anything. I didn’t want to leave.
“Iʼm starving," Faith said. “Those Canned Laughter dudes with the pork and beans made me hungry. Could we stop at Wendy’s?"
Watching Cece hug another girl, I turned away and said, "Yeah, sure, why not."
Chapter 14
The ringing of my cell phone woke me up. Cotton-mouthed, I grabbed it off the dresser and grunted, “ ’Lo."
“What time you coming over? I thought we said ten o’clock."
I struggled to sit up, squinting at my clock. “`What time is it?"
"Almost eleven," Seth said.
“Youʼre kidding? I threw off my comforter and kicked through the rumpled sheets to find the floor. I never slept this late. I'd been dreaming – Aphidsiurn had deposited a subconscious suggestion, or two. "I’Il be right over. Just need to get dressed." What day was this? Why was I going over to Sethʼs?
“Forget it," Seth said.
He didn’t sound happy. “Really, I can be there in ten minutes. Nine."
“Where were you last night? I called and your mom told me you went out with Faith. Like I’m supposed to believe that."
Uh-oh. Guilt gnawed at my conscience. Then anger overcame the guilt. “Do I have to report to you every night? Are you going to be checking up on me now?"
“No.” He paused. His voice dropped. “I just want to know where you were, Holland."
My heart sank. Did he deserve to know? Yes. What was the big deal, anyway? Nothing happened. "Faith and I went to a performance art show."
"Why?"
“Gee, I dunno. Because it’s there?" Did I need his permission to have a life now? “If you want me to come over, I’II be over."
“I have to leave for work in haII an hour," he said. He expeIIed a long, audible breath. “Performance art, huh? Why’d Faith ask you? Couldn't she get one of her ghoul friends to go? Ar, ar."
Oh, Seth. I closed my eyes. “I guess not."
“I’II caII you later,” he said. “Or you couId caII me."
"Yeah. I will." We disconnected and I folded the phone closed. I should've just asked him to go with me last night, since she barely acknowledged my existence.
That wasn’t true. It wasn’t my imagination that she was glad to see me. I sensed a current of electricity between us, even with Faith there. Then that Joanne person showed up and cut the wire.
The phone in my hand beckoned me. I flipped it open and punched in the numbers. The numbers I’d memorized. One ring, two rings — my stomach knotted. I hung up. Stalled. Punched redial. One ring, two — just as I was about to bail, a voice said, “Yeah, hello?” I hung up. It was a guy’s voice. I fell back in bed, then shot up again and redialed.
“Hello," he answered again.
"Is Cece there?" My voice sounded like a scared little girl's. I hate that.
“Just a sec Cece!" he bellowed. There was a short pause, then, “Cece, answer your frigginʼ phone.” It couldnʼt have been her father; maybe her brother? He came back on and said, “Nope. Not here. You want me to have her call you?"
“No,” I said quickly. "Iʼll just catch her later."
"’Kay oh," he said and hung up. My heart was breaking every bone in my rib cage. I wanted to see her so much it hurt.
***
Swimming. Up, down, counting strokes. One, two, three, four. Breathe in, breathe out. Torch, tuck, under, back. Her.
Everything was her. The light, the dark, the day, the night. Her. Her.
She was my first thought in the morning, my last thought at night. She'd taken possession of my soul. She was inside of me, consuming me, compelling me to –
What?
Drown it out. Fight the force. You can do it, Holland. You're strong. Resist. You can beat the forces of nature. You have to.
Swim. Stroke. Count. Count.
Can't. Can't. Can't.
***
She was propped against my locker, waiting, sipping her coffee. When she saw me coming, she scrabbled to her feet and smiled. I melted. Today she had on a T-shirt that read: I HAVE A QUEER CONSCIENCE. DO YOU?
"Hi," she said. “Thanks again for coming to my program."
Keep it light, Holland, my brain cautioned. “No problem. Tell me about Unity. How did you guys get together?” l reached around her and opened my locker.
“A couple of us met in the theater department at Wash Central. I came up with the idea and put a call card on the bulletin board at Rainbow Alley. Why?"
“l just wondered?" Light, very light. l grabbed my morning books, trying not to feel her breathing, feel her blood pulsing through my veins. “So, why did you transfer from Wash Central?"
I asked, shutting my locker.
She didnʼt answer.
Hugging my books to my chest, I headed down the hall. She walked beside me. Close, too close. At the main intersection, we stopped. I looked at her, my question hanging in the air. A clique of girls passed, which wouldn’t have even registered if one of them hadn’t scanned Cece up and down. Eyed her shirt and sneered. Cece turned her back on them. “It was an unhealthy environment," she finally replied.
I scoffed. “And this oneʼs better?" I found that hard to believe.
She gazed down the hall toward our lockers, eyes faraway. “Maybe,” she said. “I’m waiting to see."
***
We had a sub in calc who couldn’t even spell “math," so he gave us a study hour. I could’ve used it to finish reading Grendel and start my comparative analysis with Beowulf, which was due next week. Or read the chapter we were discussing today in econ, or study for the calc quiz tomorrow. Instead I pulled out my sketchbook. Her eyes were so beautiful, expressive. The color of moss – deep, dark green, but brown, too, around the edges. Wispy blond lashes. Eyes were hard to draw. Not the shape so much or the color, but the depth. The person behind them.
She was such a tease, I thought, smiling. Did she mean to be? She didn't like games; she'd said that. Could she be flirting? With me? Who could tell? All of this, her, she was an uncertainty. A mystery. Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with.
And I wanted to be with her, like all the time. Eliminate the obstacles, the people and things in our lives that were keeping us apart: Brandi, Seth, Kirsten, society, me.
Me? Make that my fear. What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn’t what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I’d have to surrender myself completely. I’d lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I’d built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music.
***
Mackel handed back last weeks assignments. On the top of my half-face drawing he’d written on a sticky note: “F-ing unbelievable. A+.” I must've radiated warmth because Cece turned around and smiled. Brandi snagged her attention by showing Cece her drawing and giggling, and I wondered it I could sharpen a water-colour pencil to a point sharp enough that it’d penetrate a skull.
Oh, this is healthy, Holland, I thought. Contemplate murder, why don’t you? Maybe you could hire a hit man to take out all the people in your way.
Okay, I composed a mental contract with myself, it Cece appreaches me after class, I’ll let Brandi live.
She stalled around looking like she might, like she wanted to. Then Brandi was all over her again. Where do you call for hit men, anyway? Dial-A-Death?
I found a yellow rose stuck in my locker vent after school. My spirit deflated. Seth. He always gave me a rose after we argued. Had we argued? He knew yellow was my favorite color. Yellow. Funny. I'd managed to avoid Seth all day, but I couldn’t indefinitely.
What was I going to do about him? Tell him, of course. It was a betrayal to allow our relationship to continue. I realised now I only ever loved him as a friend. That the physical aspect of our relationship evolved because that’s what was expected. A girl meets a guy, they fall in love, have sex, get married, not necessarily in that order.
Expectations. They ruled my life.
Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
I was sniffing the rose, wondering how to let Seth down easy, when I arrived at my Jeep. Cece was leaning against the hood, arms folded, foot tapping. “Holland.” She launched off the bumper. “Could you give me a ride?"
A bolt of lightning shot through me. Would she always excite me this way?
“Sure." I smiled at her. Followed her eyes to the pavement, to the flat tire on the driver’s side of her Neon. "Oh, no," I said. "I hate when that happens. You want me to help you put on the spare?"
“I’m out of spares,” she said, her voice sounding cold. "I just need a ride, okay?"
“Sure, of course." I unlocked the passenger door and she climbed in. I ran around to my side. “You want me to drop you at a gas station or something?" I lay the yellow rose across the dash. “There’ s a tire place not too far from here."
“No, I’ll just call my dad later. If you could take me to Hott ’N Tott, that’d be great."
I switched on the ignition. The engine coughed. "Oh, crap. I need gas. I’Il have to stop at home to get some money. Will that make you late?"
“No. Your house is on the way.” Cece buckled her seat belt. "I’lI pay you back."
“You don’t have to. I need gas anyway." How did she know where I lived?
She asked, “Am I going to make you late?"
“Yeah.” No sense lying to her. “But that's fine.” I backed out of my parking slot. "I’Il just call in sick." What? Had those words issued forth from the mouth of Holland Jaeger? She'd never blow off work. It was expected she'd be there, and be there on time. She was a slave to expectations.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, Cece remarked, “I had no idea you and Faith were related. She's really cool."
I just looked at her.
Cece laughed. “You are so easy to read."
Which made all the blood rush to my face.
“She’s your stepsister, huh? On your mother or father's side?"
“Father,” I said. “Stepfather. My mom got pregnant with me in high school when she was fifteen. She didn't really want me." My breath caught. Why did I tell Cece that? I’d never told anyone, not even Leah.
Cece frowned. “She said that to you?"
“Not in so many words.” My voice sounded weak, same way I felt. “Her parents kicked her out, so she didn’t have a choice."
Cece’ s eyes widened. “Wow. What were they, like religious fanatics?"
“I donʼt know,” I admitted. "She never told me why. She hasnʼt spoken to them since. I guess her mom's written to her over the years wanting to reconcile; be involved in my life. But Mom absolutely refuses to have anything to do with them."
“How do you feel about that?" Cece asked.
“Me?" I looked at her. Back at the road. All these years. “I wish she could forgive them. Or at least let me meet them. I mean, they’re my grandparents, you know?"
Cece nodded, like she understood. I felt her eyes on me, studying me. What did she see? A writhing bundle of raw nerves? After a moment, she said, "There's always a choice. Your mom didn’t give you up for adoption, so she must’ve wanted to keep you."
I’d never thought of that. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I'd always figured she just wished she’d had an abortion. End of problem. End of me.
“Where’s your dad?" Cece asked.
"Who knows? Mom told me he turned out to be a loser and thank God they never got married. He didn’t want anything to do with me. My stepdad, Neal? He’s a good guy. He’s the first really nice man Mom’s ever met. He makes her happy. That’s what counts. Unfortunately, he comes with baggage."
Cece shot me a dark look.
“Sorry, but this whole Goth thing makes me want to hurl."
“Why?" She shifted to face me.
“It’s seriously demented." I smirked at her.
“Not reaIly.” She snaked an arm across the seat back. Almost touched my shoulder. One more inch. “Most of t
he Goths I know are pretty cool. I think the whole movement just got a bad rep with Columbine. What I understand about it is, they’re into nonviolence, peace, celebration of life. Celebration of death, too. They try to find all the beauty in everything. Even pain. For some it’s like this quest for immortality. For nirvana."
I stared straight ahead, letting her words sink in. Chastising myself for not even discussing it with Faith; not finding out what Goth meant to her.
Cece dropped her arm. “l think she’ s just trying to get noticed. I feel sorry for Faith having to compete with you."
My head whipped around. “What do you mean? We’re not competing."
"Oh, come on." She twisted toward me again, tucking one leg under the other, her knee a hairbreadth away from mine. Her hand rested on her thigh. "All of a sudden, she's thrown into this new family. She has to share her father." It took every ounce of willpower to concentrate on driving, on what she was saying, on not looking at her thigh. “She has this new sister who’s gorgeous and brainy and athletic and popular. How’s she supposed to feel?"
My face flared. She thinks I’m gorgeous? "We're not competing.” I repeated.
“You may not be." Cece blinked away. "You never had to."
Instead of the driveway, I pulled up at the curb and ground to a stop. Just sat there, staring at Cece. I felt as if she’d just skinned me alive, like she saw me from the inside out.
I exited the Jeep and Cece followed.
Mom was in the living room watching her soaps and giving Hannah a bottle. “Hey, Ma," I greeted her. "This is Cece. Cece, the Mom."
“Hi.” Cece stuck out her hand.
Since both her hands were full, all Mom could do was smile. “Hello.”
“And this is Hannah, my baby sister.” I tickled Hannie's belly and she gurgled. Mom, I noticed, was examining Cece, reading her T-shirt. She said, "Would you get me a towel, Holland? This one’s all wet."
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