by Laury Falter
“Hi,” she said again, having stopped in front of us and was now shifting stances uncomfortably. “Is this you?”
She held out the newspaper, and I took it. Across the top of the page in all caps read:
MAGDALENE TANNER: THE REAL DEAL
I skimmed the article and found that most of it was true. Miranda had gotten a few facts wrong but nothing of consequence, just some dates and locations.
“Yes, that would be me,” I told Jenny, handing the newspaper back to her.
“So you’re the one who sits in Jackson’s Square? The one who speaks to the dead?”
“Yes…”
She stepped forward again, still dragging her friend. “I’m Jenny. This is Sheila. She just lost her aunt.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sincerely. “Did you want to tell her something?”
That question, so simple and so innocent, was the catalyst to the unimaginable journey I was embarking on. This moment marked the beginning of me delivering messages for fellow students…again.
Sheila’s eyes lit up as she inched forward with another small step.
“Yes, could you…could you tell her that I’ve saved all her paintings? They won’t be auctioned off. That was very important to her. It was her last request to me.”
“Sure, I can tell her tonight.”
“Tonight? So soon?” she asked, astounded.
“Unless you prefer I wait…”
“No,” she replied abruptly. “Tonight would be great. I…I just didn’t know you could do it so fast.”
“Yes, this is the express service.”
“Oh, does that cost more?” she asked.
“No.” I laughed. “No…I was joking.”
She still seemed unable to comprehend the humor in it. “Okay, I’d pay for it, if it were,” she said sheepishly, as she opened her purse and started digging for money.
Instantly, the regret creeping just inside my consciousness, for violating Ezra’s terms, vanished. I realized that if someone were going to pay more for her message to be delivered, it was obviously important to her – so much so that any trouble I may get into, with Ezra or The Warden, for delivering the message would be a worthy tradeoff. “You know, don’t worry about the money,” I said.
“Well, I need to pay you…” she stated, as if it weren’t up for debate.
Recognizing that it made her feel more comfortable if she paid, I agreed to accept the money. “Sure, but you can pay me tomorrow when I confirm with you that your aunt got her message.”
Sheila smiled, the pain in her eyes lifting visibly. “Thanks. That sounds great.”
By that point, I had two more students forming a line to talk with me.
“Uh-oh. Here we go…” Gershom muttered and immediately began packing up his lunch.
It seemed what had become an innocent byline in our school newspaper had turned into a massive advertisement.
By the time I got to fencing class, I had a total of ten deliveries to make and another two customers caught up to me right before fencing started. I already had my protective gear on by the time the thirteenth, and final, customer of the day approached me.
Sitting and waiting for class to begin, I heard the auditorium door open. Without having to look, I knew who it was because the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.
Sarai took a gym bag into the locker room and returned a few minutes later, her street clothes having been replaced with her uniform. Without speaking a word to anyone, she sat down on the opposite side of the circle, facing me.
She hadn’t put on her mask yet, so I could see her face clearly. It was glowering, eyes incensed. I envisioned her grabbing hold of her sword and screaming, as she sprinted across the gym floor, refusing to stop until her sword had decapitated me. Thankfully, she hadn’t moved. I had to give her credit. The fact that she didn’t even flinch as her nemesis sat directly in front of her, exposed and unprotected, spoke volumes about her self-control.
Ms. Valentine walked around the inside of the circle, checking everyone’s gear aloud. “Jacket…Plastron…Breeches…Mask…Gloves…Foil…Excellent. Now, I told you we would be having a quiz today both written and sparing but a student – especially a fencing student – must always be prepared for the unexpected. So, there will be no written part of the quiz.”
Whispers, happy ones, swirled around the class.
To my dread, Ms. Valentine went on to say, “That will give us more than enough time to test everyone’s skills on the pad.”
It seemed I was the only one who wasn’t ecstatic about this change of plans. With everyone else so eager to jump in the circle and be pocked and jabbed, I figured the best thing I could do was scoot to the very outer edge of the circle. Maybe Ms. Valentine wouldn’t have time to get to me before class ended, and I wouldn’t have to spar. I knew this was wishful thinking. She had been a sergeant in the Army before coming to the Academy of the Immaculate Heart. Promptness was a necessity, and the stop watch around her neck was not a fashion statement. She would stay on time.
“Now,” said Ms. Valentine turning in my direction. “Who’s ready for the first assaut?” Her eyes scanned the room. I dropped my head silently, hoping she wouldn’t select me. Yet it was almost as if I could feel the weight of her stare when she stopped at me. I was on the verge of desperation when she called out, “Maggie Tanner…I haven’t seen you spar all semester.”
It was almost as if I had a flashing beacon on my head.
“It’s only been a few days into the semester,” I commented. “There will be plenty of time later.”
I knew my response fell on deaf ears when her mouth pursed out of aggravation and she placed her meaty fists on her hips, protesting my obvious disinterest in participating. She had singled me out already. There was no possibility of me avoiding the inevitable sparring match.
“The time is now,” she stated staunchly.
I groaned, unashamedly showing my disappointment in being called first, and I displayed my reservation by getting up slowly – very slowly.
“And who for a partner?” She spun in the opposite direction, searching for an appropriate candidate with the same height and build. I was making my way onto the mat when I heard her say, “How about…Sarai?”
My head snapped up just as her name was called. Sure enough, Sarai was in the motion of standing, all too eagerly. She still hadn’t put on her mask so when she shot me a glare, oozing with anticipation, it was clear that she expected to enjoy this sparring match.
Reluctantly, I slipped my mask over my head and met Sarai in the middle of the mat. As Ms. Valentine stood between us and reviewed the rules of engagement, I didn’t bother listening. I already knew this was going to be a blowout. The foil I held in my hand - the one assigned to me - still had dust on it.
“En garde!” Ms. Valentine screamed with her usual voracity.
Sarai’s mask had a see-through visor and when our eyes met the side of her mouth turned up in an evil grin.
In the next moment, Ms. Valentine was at the edge of the mat and Sarai was parrying, moving around with fancy footwork that I hadn’t practiced once.
She was so fluid that it only took a few steps before she made it clear that she knew what she was doing.
I felt like a lamb at the slaughterhouse.
After a few more steps and a little more dancing, without any warning, she came at me, lunging deep.
Oddly, if it wasn’t for me moving into her blade by accident, she would have missed her mark, slicing down across the left side of my waistline. Apparently, footwork aside, Sarai could use a little practice, too. This gave me some relief.
Because of my clumsy maneuvering, the point of her blade hit me squarely in the chest. Ms. Valentine enthusiastically called out the points. I ignored her.
Shockingly, the impact didn’t hurt, it felt more like someone had poked me rather than stabbed me. The rubber tip on the end actually worked. I only had time to realize this when Sarai burst
toward me again.
This one made contact too, on the same side and in the same area as her first strike, just below my ribs. Ms. Valentine screamed out another point.
Another lunge landed in the same spot.
“Recovery! Retreat!” Ms. Valentine commanded.
I ignored her again. What good was it?
More fancy footwork and parrying by Sarai.
Another lunge…same side…same area.
Another point.
I felt something rip. It was at my waist, on the left side. I looked down, my mask blocking my view.
Realization swept over me as I figured out what Sarai had been doing. She hadn’t been aiming poorly. She knew exactly what she was doing, hitting the same spot repeatedly until it weakened and tore my uniform.
I was now exposed, defenseless.
Another lunge came, this one aimed directly at the tear.
I brought my foil up to recovery stance and suddenly Sarai was moving lightning fast, advancing aggressively, as if she were an animal and smelled blood.
Unexpectedly, coming from some faint memory, I began parrying left, right, semi-circle. It was more reaction than anything, but I was good at it. I knew this because I heard gasps from the class and even applause a few times. I felt just as fluid as Sarai looked.
To my satisfaction, I was wearing her down. I could hear her through our masks, heaving for breath.
Our blades met, bringing our faces close enough that I was looking directly into her eyes.
The opportunity was too good to pass up, I grinned at her, taunting her.
Sarai released a guttural scream and shoved me to the side. That is when I felt the blade slice into my skin.
As if a trigger had been set, the hair on the back of my neck responded wildly.
I didn’t retreat, though. I advanced.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light move from the rafters above. It swooped down, cutting a path between Sarai and me, so forceful it took my breath with it.
Sarai screamed, this one in agony, and fell backwards landing with a loud thud on the mat in front of me, her expression was just as confused as I felt.
Suddenly, the class was still.
Only Sarai’s heaving from her sprawled position on the mat could be heard.
In the quiet, someone to my right said, “You’re bleeding.”
Ms. Valentine rushed toward me and bent down at my waist. “Okay…okay…to the nurse’s office. Sarai, are you hurt?”
Sarai didn’t respond, she didn’t move. She remained on her back, trying to catch her breath, glaring up at me.
“Sarai,” said Ms. Valentine, more insistently. “Are you hurt?”
Her response was a low growl, sounding more animal than human. She shook her head.
“Maggie, will you make it to the nurse’s office?”
I nodded, and she ordered me to go straight there…immediately.
I did but not before checking the rafters again for any sign of the bright, white light. It was gone, but it didn’t matter. I already knew it had been Eran who had shoved Sarai to the ground, once again, protecting me.
By the time I walked through Nurse McKintrich’s door, the white fencer’s uniform was drenched in blood. She gasped and immediately went to work preparing her tools to suture me.
In truth, the anesthesia needle hurt worse than the cut. The wound just happened to look awful. So when Nurse McKintrich left the room, allowing time for the numbness to take effect, I had to mindfully stop myself from pressing on the open wound.
It was during that brief time I sensed I was not alone. A few quick glances around made me question it. Without anyone visible it was hard to be convinced. But whether by a subliminal need to be with him again or as a result of the onset of shock, I felt him near.
“I know you’re here,” I whispered, so that my voice didn’t carry into the other room. The door was slightly ajar and if they heard me talking to myself they might consider calling a different type of doctor.
“I can feel you.”
There was no voice, no bright, white light as there had been in the gym. Regardless, I seized the opportunity to talk to Eran. Even if he wasn’t there listening, and I was only imagining him, at least I was getting it off my chest.
“I-I don’t understand why you are avoiding me. If I’ve done something wrong…something that offended you, I’m sorry.” My voice trembled in reaction to the emotions running through me. I had to stop and draw in a few deep breaths. I was compelled to do something only made possible after quickly surveying the empty room again. He could be here, watching me and listening. Or, I could be speaking to no one at all. Somehow, my convincing myself that I was alone made it easier to make my confession.
“I am in love with you.” I stopped, absorbing the unavoidable nervousness that had taken over every muscle in my body. “And I miss you,” I whispered, noticing that my body began to shake uncontrollably.
Nurse McKintrich pushed the door open, noticing I was in the midst of a trembling fit. Rushing to my side in a panic, she was about to call an ambulance when I stopped her.
“I’m f-fine.” I had to say it three times before I could get her attention. “Just cold…”
She mumbled something, a curse word I thought, and yanked open a drawer at the bottom of the bed. Withdrawing a blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders, she admitted, “I thought you were going into shock…”
“It’s definitely not that,” I told her, knowing too well that it was the overpowering intensity of my emotions. “I’m fine, really.”
As I spoke those words, I felt it. A feeling of something being drawn away from the room, one that I could only assume was the effect of Eran’s departure.
Afterwards, I quietly watched Nurse McKintrich stitch and dress my wound feeling very much alone despite her presence. I felt isolated even with her right beside me, because she wasn’t the one who I wished was here with me now.
No, he had gone somewhere else.
CHAPTER TEN: SUBSTITUTE
Weeks passed, Eran didn’t reappear after the incident in fencing class. I still wasn’t sure whether he’d been in the nurse’s office or not when I declared my love for him, and this helped a bit. The awkwardness I would feel if I knew he was there to hear it and then vanished again would have been unrecoverable.
Business picked up at school, which I was thankful for because it helped keep my mind off Eran. Students approached me more and more in class, in the restroom, and at lunch. It was as if a floodgate had been released, and I had to struggle to keep afloat.
After delivering messages, I’d always end up on the porch at Eran’s cabin, petting Annie and Charlie and waiting for any glimpse of Eran.
He never came.
What hurt the most was that I missed him, being around him. I felt as if my best friend simply vanished and I had no way of seeing him again. The pain of loneliness persisted inside me, resonating through every pore in my body, its presence permeating my thoughts relentlessly. My concentration in classes, never having been very good to begin with, was awful. I was certain my teachers were giving The Warden a full write-up on apparent disregard of their class work. Gershom noticed too but mercifully avoided acknowledging it. He did his best to keep our lunchtime conversations lapse-free. At home, my roommates did everything they could think of to get me to discuss my sudden depression, but I flatly refused, not wanting to relive the pain.
One day in the middle of the week, my depression changed to alarm. Gershom didn’t show up for class. At lunch, I found the plot beneath our tree vacant. I waited all lunch hour, keeping an eye out for him, but he never came.
By the third day, I skipped lunch, heading instead for the main office to ask about his absence.
The Warden’s door was closed but Ms. Saggy-Arm, his secretary whose name happened to be Ms. Olsonite, was propped behind her desk, clicking away on her keyboard.
When the door opened, she glanced up, immediately frowning.
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I knew instantly this was going to be harder than I imagined.
“Ms. Olsonite,” I said to the top of her head, as she was purposely ignoring me. “I wanted to ask about a student.”
“We don’t give out personal information,” she replied curtly, not bothering to look up.
“I understand, but he hasn’t been to class recently…”
“We don’t give out personal information.” This time, her voice wielded a sharper edge.
“He’s a friend of mine, and I’m worried about him.” As I explained this, I noticed a report on her desk with the title clear and easy to read upside down, Absence List. I had to hold back a smile when I saw it.
Her head snapped up, drawing my attention back to her. The loathing in her expression was clear. She made no attempt to hide her dislike for me in her tone, either. “We. Don’t. Give. Out. Personal. Information.”
I stared at her a moment, trying to control the anger welling up in me. Unfortunately, it won. “Can you say it one more time? I didn’t hear you the first three.”
Her face instantly contorted in blind fury. She stood up, knocking down her thick, wooden chair, causing a resounding clatter, and stomped toward The Warden’s door.
By her first knock on his door, I was already out in the hallway, tucking the Absence List under my arm.
I nearly skipped my way down the hall to the girl’s bathroom. Inside, the stalls were empty, but I still moved to the last one, closing the door behind me. If anyone came in and saw me reading the Absence List, I’m fairly certain The Warden would find it reason enough to send me to detention for the rest of the semester.
I opened the report and scanned it for Gershom’s name. There weren’t many students out of class so he wasn’t hard to find. I saw the message next to it and my shoulder’s dropped. Gershom wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. He had moved again, this time to Georgia.
I stared blindly at the graffiti on the stall door without reading any of it.
He hadn’t even left me a note.