“Violet, you have a visitor.”
“Okay.” Even though last night was overwhelming, a part of me really enjoyed connecting with Violet, telling her about my life. Informing her about the classes of Pentrals was definitely for her own protection, but it was also nice to share more than just a fleeting sentiment with someone. Getting to talk to her, exchange back and forth, helps me see that maybe we really could be friends. In fact I’m not really interested in conversing with anyone else right now. I could stay in this yard with her forever.
Thomas walks through the sliding glass door. “Hey,” he says, hanging back on the porch. “You weren’t in school today.”
“Oh, well, figured I’d milk this bad leg for all it’s worth,” I lie.
“Ah, I see. Well, do you think it’s strong enough to walk to the lake?” he asks.
My skin prickles. Large bodies of water make me nervous. But the rippling shoreline would be a perfect place for Violet to continue her practice. I agree and casually lace my arm through his, watching as she does the same with Thomas’ Shadow. Nicely done, I think. We may be able to keep her safe yet.
The route to the lake passes through town, which means a majority of our stroll is littered with mirrors. With so many surfaces covered in glass, the sun’s rays bounce back and forth like a pinball game, illuminating every corner. From the ground, I always appreciated this effect, as the light patterns make for challenging Shadowing, but today, walking hand in hand with Thomas, the constant presence of mirrors is harrowing. As we pass by convenience stores, trash cans, traffic signs—everything—I feel like I’m being stalked. Not by Violet, of course, who is doing her best to dutifully follow below, but by the monster—my Reflection. Strange, mangled features peer back at me from every façade, and not even the comforting squeeze of Thomas’ hand can shake the queasy feeling stirring inside.
I look at Thomas’ Reflection to see if we are a pair of beasts or if I am alone in my horror, but in the glass he appears as he does at my side: strong, attractive, and confident. He is the same Person I’ve known from my Shadowy viewpoint. Why then is my Reflection so drastically different? Where is Violet’s natural face? Could her fall have caused this much alteration? I know this figure in the mirror cannot possibly be the correct representation of my Person, and yet it follows me all the way to the lake.
When our feet hit the sand and the mirrors give way to the elements, I realize Thomas has been telling me a story. I’ve been so engrossed in my own disfigurement I’ve failed to notice anything else. I try to wipe my face clean of whatever anxiety the monster riled up and set my focus back on him.
“So that’s it. Coach thinks I have what it takes to play professionally,” he says.
“Thomas, that’s great,” I exclaim. I do not know a lot about sports since Violet primarily hangs in the art room, but know that he is the star of his soccer team. “Aren’t you nervous though?”
“Sure, it’s a lot of pressure, but this is what I’ve been working toward. Plus, I mean, you’ll always be there to cheer me on, right?” he asks, squeezing my hand.
I squeeze back, feeling the warmth of his palm. “Of course.” I’ll be there one way or another, whether I am in this body or outlined on the bleachers. This boy who has been so considerate deserves support. I look down at Violet to make sure she’s registered this exchange. She is struggling to keep my outline correct against the uneven sand, but she is not giving up. Her effort makes me smile.
“That’s what I’ve been missing,” Thomas says, turning to me.
“Missing what?” I ask.
“That smile.” Before I even realize what is happening, he pulls me toward him and moves in for a kiss.
It is… unexpected. I have spent a lot of time wondering what a kiss would be like, but did not realize how many sensations would be involved. Fingers at the small of my back. Bodies pulled close. Lips pressed together. And I wait for it—that feeling of love to flood my body like I have always imagined. But it does not come. Nothing does. Watching Thomas and Violet, it always seemed like a force field was pulling them together. But now, here in his embrace, I do not feel that unstoppable attraction. Nothing stirs from within. Something is wrong.
Surely I am floundering, destroying what should be a swoon-worthy scene, but Thomas doesn’t seem to notice. He shows no signs of stopping until a voice pulls us apart.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” says an approaching figure. The sun has finally tucked away behind the canyon walls, leaving a smattering of stars overhead. Their light casts a soft glow on a mass of dark features, belonging to a familiar face.
Benjamin Kelly.
I am both relieved and apprehensive. The way he has treated Violet since Mary’s accident has been cruel but his arrival means Thomas probably won’t kiss me again. My face turns hot from embarrassment. I thought a kiss would make me feel love, but I feel nothing.
“Hey man,” Thomas says casually, unbothered at being caught making out. He lets me go and engages Ben in a friendly handshake.
“So, did I miss something here?” Ben asks, flitting his eyes between us. The boys have managed to remain friends despite Mary’s tragedy, the only surviving members of the Alliance. From the surprised look on Ben’s face, I can only assume Thomas has spent a lot of time pining for Violet, but this recent rekindling has yet to make headline news.
“Sorry Ben, I—” Thomas’ words convey apology but his face has no regret.
“No, dude, it’s cool, I’m just—” Ben turns to look straight at me “—surprised.”
Suddenly I feel angry, protective of my Person’s honor. I do not like what his tone implies. Like getting back together with Violet is a giant mistake, a huge error in judgment. “Surprised at what?” I ask.
“Whoa, relax there,” Ben says, stepping toward me. As a Shadow, his stature always overpowered me, and even now in Violet’s body, his frame towers. I know he is trying to intimidate me but he will not succeed. Violet may have accepted his behavior, but Antares will not be bullied.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say, standing my ground. I look up into his brown eyes and try to understand the thoughts behind them. So guarded. There is something else locked away behind his frustration.
“Oh, you don’t need me for that, Violet. Had any good Lifts! lately?” he says, wearing the face of an arrogant ass.
Before I can stop myself, I lunge forward to push him out of my face. The moment my hands touch his chest, a spark ignites my fingertips, electrifying my body. Ben reels back, stumbling back in the sand. I stare at my palms in disbelief before meeting his gaze. What was that? That fiery sensation? Did he feel it too?
Ben’s face is muddled in confusion, but I cannot tell if it is from the spark or simply from being pushed by a girl. Our eyes are deadlocked until Thomas intervenes.
“Guys, seriously, cool it! Look, Ben, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Violet. Things just sort of… happened.” He reaches for my hand and I take it. No spark.
“I get it, yeah,” Ben replies, still focusing on me.
“And Violet,” Thomas continues, “You know how much Ben has been through. You two need to lay off each other already. We’re all friends here, right?”
Are we? The only friend I can be sure of right now is the one hovering at my feet. Thomas has been nothing but helpful since I entered this body, but the lack of chemistry in that kiss has me confused. Not that I’ve spent much time watching other couples make out, but I always assumed that the combination of kissers didn’t matter; it was the actual act of kissing that created love. Yet I didn’t feel anything with Thomas. And Ben, I don’t know what to make of him. Still, because I care about Violet’s well-being, I have to do what I can to piece her life back together while I am here. I’m acting on her behalf. Reuniting this group of friends is her best shot against disappearing in a Lifts!-induced haze once things go back to normal. They will be there for her when I go back to being a quiet obs
erver.
“Right,” I answer. We turn to Ben, waiting for his consent. He sighs.
“Fine. Just keep your hands off me, alright?” he says with a smirk.
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” I say.
“Good! That’s settled then,” Thomas says, relieved.
Without warning, Ben shouts out in a ridiculous voice, “Alliance powers activate!” He shoots his arm out, hand clenched in a fist with his thumb sticking up. Thomas and I start laughing. When the original foursome came up with their group name as children, they wanted to have some sort of secret handshake. Mostly they would goof around and do silly superhero poses, trying to see who could get the biggest reaction, but eventually they settled on a fist bump with a thumb touch. It was their own little way of keeping things positive and fun.
His outburst breaks the tension, and Thomas moves forward to complete the handshake with his friend. I hang back and watch until the three of us end up sitting on the shore. Sitting in a line, with Thomas in the middle, we kick off our shoes and let the tide chill our feet. At first I dig my toes into the sand, uncertain of the water, but with every incoming wave, I allow myself to relax and let it wash over me. It is so cold, not like what I imagined. Violet always enjoyed swimming, laughing when the water hit her face. I thought the lake would be warm, inviting, not so frigid. But I’m thankful for the experience regardless.
If Ben is still feeling any of the frustration he did moments ago, he is certainly masking it well. The boys discuss soccer drills while I do my best to play the part of loving girlfriend. I snuggle into Thomas, resting my head on his strong shoulder. His arm around me, we must look like the picture of young love.
Only my half of the portrait is all wrong. I want Thomas to be a part of Violet’s life; he is so good to her. But I am not sure if I can do this. It is one thing to go through the motions of love, but eventually he will certainly detect that I am not fanning the flames. I thought love was something that just happened, but it seems like there is a lot of work behind it. I am going to have to try harder.
“Well, I should probably be walking Violet home,” Thomas eventually announces.
“Yeah, what happened to your leg?” Ben says, nodding at my bandaged calf.
“I’m a delicate flower,” I joke.
“Doubtful,” Ben answers, raising an eyebrow. He places his hand over his heart where I pushed him. “I’ve got the singe marks to prove it.”
Singe marks. He felt it too.
“Not to worry, I took care of her,” Thomas says proudly. I smile up at him.
“As you always do,” Ben retorts, not even trying to hide an eye roll.
Thomas playfully shoves his friend, and the two wrestle for a short bit. We are all heading away from the shore when Ben invites us to hang at his house sometime later this week. Thomas agrees for us both, and we say goodnight to Ben. His eyes linger on me longer than I would expect before he turns to walk away.
As Thomas walks me home, through the sparkling streets of Talline, I think about the fingertip flicker from touching Ben. Was the spark a signal of some sort? Like a warning? Maybe Persons who should stay away from each other are given a physical sign. There definitely is no spark with Thomas, and clearly he is meant to be with Violet. When I touch Thomas, I only feel the friction of our skin. I guess that is better than being set on fire.
Thomas kisses me again at Violet’s doorstep, but it is different. Shorter, followed by a hug. Maybe he felt my indifference on the beach, or maybe he realized his earlier actions were too much too soon. Either way, I feel more comfortable resting my head near his heart, listening to it beat. For Violet.
In her room, I switch on the light, anxious to hash out the evening’s events with my friend. Violet appears dark and agitated on the floor.
When I reach my hand down, her anger rips through me.
“What is wrong with you?!”
* * 13 * *
“What?” I am taken aback by her frustration.
“How could you, Antares? We spend all day and night talking about Pentrals and Shadows and keeping me safe, and then you drag me to the lake to make out with my boyfriend? I thought you were my friend!”
Oh. I guess from her perspective that did look pretty bad. But I was only trying to keep up appearances.
“I’m sorry, Violet, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I didn’t ask Thomas to come over here, or kiss me for that matter. I mean, he thinks I’m you, remember? Isn’t him kissing you a good thing?”
She’s quiet for a minute. “Yes, I suppose so. But watching you two made me feel awful, so jealous.”
I feel guilty. Violet didn’t ask for this, to be taken from her body to watch someone else kiss the love of her life. Truthfully, I did not ask for it either, but I also do not know how to make our swap end. All I can do until I find the answer is live the best possible imitation of Violet’s life.
“He loves you, you know. I’ve watched him miss you over the past few months,” I say.
“I know,” she admits, unable to hide her regret.
“You love him too, right?” I ask. There is no point in me enduring his advances if she does not want them.
She takes her time answering. “Yes. I do,” Violet says, her words tinged with longing.
“Okay, then, I guess I’ll need to carry on.”
“You say it like it’s such a chore. Is there something wrong with kissing Thomas?” she asks defensively.
“Nothing exactly. Thomas is great. It’s just, kissing is not what I expected.” The conversation is awkward, discussing the pros and cons of making out with my Person’s boyfriend. How do I explain the build-up I had, the fantasies of being swept off my feet, all brought to a halt by her lover’s lips?
“Well, that’s probably because he’s not really kissing you. He’s kissing Violet, not Antares,” she says matter of fact. I guess that could make sense, but I’m still confused. Shouldn’t the physical act give way to the emotional one? Isn’t kissing an equilateral expression of love? Or maybe I’m just incapable of feeling it, forever trapped within my Pentral boundaries.
“Just… treat him well, okay? Violet continues. “I don’t want to lose him. Again. Watching him with you, it made me remember how nice it could be. Being with someone.”
“I will keep him close,” I reassure. “For you.”
This seems to calm her. “I’m so tired,” she says. “When do Shadows rest?”
I stifle a laugh. “Um, never? Shadows are not really supposed to sleep, in case their Persons decide to stir. But, I will lie down and keep real still, so you can relax.”
I sprawl out on the bed, and Violet curls up next to me. I watch her release her tension in synchronicity with me. In 17 years, I have never fallen asleep, never once closed out the world, and wonder if I will be able to do so tonight. I stare at the ceiling then back at Violet, still unsure of how I got myself here in the first place. But eventually, the weariness of a physical body pulls me down.
In my dream, my first ever, I am swimming. Or really, drowning. Frantically, without pause, I push myself further and further into a sea drenched in darkness. It is a void, cold and wet, with nothing to grab onto, my arms and legs propelling me forward. Something is driving me down, and even though I cannot breathe, I swim on. I cannot see what is chasing me, but hear a faint clicking clipping at my heels. Whatever it is, I am terrified, doing everything in my power to escape.
But before I can free myself, my eyes burst open, and I am back in Violet’s bed. I am taking heavy breaths, like I just finished a marathon. I feel even more exhausted than I did before going to sleep. If that is what Persons endure every night, I think I would rather stay awake.
Violet stirs beside me, our connection unbreakable. I am about to ask her about dreams when the monster in the mirror catches the corner of my eye. Damn it. Sitting on the bed, bloated and exhausted, the Pentral looks even worse than I feel. I shudder. The nightmare continues.
“Violet,” I say slowly, watching my Reflection mouth my words. “What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
She makes a grunting sound, as if my question is the worst possible way to start the day. “I see myself.”
“Like, you see yourself as you truly look?”
“Yes Antares. What else could I possibly see? It’s a mirror.”
“Right, I know. Only, I feel like your Reflection is showing me something different. When I look in the mirror, I see a monster.”
“Thanks a lot,” she says sarcastically.
“Stop, I’m not joking. I don’t understand. I’ve been looking at you all my life, and you don’t look like—’’ I motion to the mirror “—this.”
“Well, I’ve also been looking at myself for years, and can sadly say that what you see is how things are. My appearance just isn’t what it used to be.” She is serious, no hint of self-deprecation or modesty.
“What do you mean, ‘not what it used to be’?”
“Well, I didn’t always look so awful, right? Like when I was little. But then I grew up into something… terrifying.” That is not true. Sure, Violet’s features have changed over the years, but I have never noticed the presence of bulging lumps or swollen features like I see in the mirror now.
“You know, it’s funny though,” Violet continues. “When I look at my body now, down here as a Shadow, it looks… better. Almost like I remember.”
I turn to her, eyes open wide. Is she confirming my suspicions? Outside herself, does she see something different? “That’s what I’m saying! The Reflection is wrong!”
“No, I don’t think so,” she quickly retorts. “Why would a Reflection do that? If they live by the same rules as Shadows, they would fear becoming a Class One just like you. Why would they mess up people’s images? Why put themselves in danger like that?”
Hmm. That’s a good point. Just as stationary objects need Shadows, there are lots of unmoving things featured in every mirror. Class One Reflections must fill those static roles. The same mind-melting boredom, only instead of going insane in shades of gray, they go crazy in full Technicolor.
The Pentrals Page 7