When the bell rings, I consider approaching him about the journal, but he disappears into his supply closet before I get the chance. I scan the room to see where Samantha ended up but she is nowhere to be seen. Probably spent the period lifting in the bathroom.
The day trudges on as I stick to following Violet’s schedule. Even though he was weird today, my appreciation for Mr. West grows as the classes go by, because even if he is strange, at least he tries. The rest of the teachers do not exhibit the slightest interest in their subjects. I have never read a book but Mr. Worthington’s complete lack of passion for the subject of literature makes me never want to. Algebra with Ms. Blick seems more mystifying than it needs to be. And physical education? The period was spent sitting lazily on a basketball court, thanks to a lack of encouragement from Mr. Shield. I have to wonder if someone slipped the entire teaching staff some sort of depressant. The students seem fine, full of energy and interest for life, but the adults are positively sluggish, like their batteries are just about to die. Remind me to never get old.
Once during a passing period, I bump into Thomas, who playfully pushes me into a locker and plants a firm kiss on my lips . Now that I know kisses are not the amazing experience I had built them up to be, I simply go through the motions, accepting his kisses for what they are—simple signs of affection and nothing more. I try to get more into it for appearances, but can only manage the bare minimum of reciprocation. When Violet gets her body back, she can go crazy if she likes. She is the one these kisses are meant for, not Antares. For now, it is just like when I was a Shadow—doing what my Person wants me to do.
I am happiest during last period—Art class. Though usually the class is spent learning digital techniques, today is a throwback to old materials. Mrs. Greenwald dims the lights and I sit before a blank canvas, a world of possibility before me. I rub my hands on the canvas. Everything in this town is polished to a uniform shine, but this cloth has so much texture. Even blank, there is life within the fibers. Now is my chance. I have the freedom to create anything I want. No abiding to the restrictions of Pentral regulations or doing only what is needed for my Person. Right now, I can be myself as I’ve always envisioned. An artist.
I have never actually drawn, only shadowed the motions. I run my fingers over the selection of paint colors. Fire engine red and sky blue; sunshine yellow and pale pink. I set aside the blacks and grays. For once, what I create will be a rainbow of pigment.
It comes so naturally. I push away thoughts of menacing Reflections and confusing Person relations and let my mind find an image. Color after color, line after line, I fill the canvas with life. It isn’t until there is no white space left that I step back to see what I’ve created.
A body of water, an ocean perhaps, with crystal clear water and fish down below. Usually I am hesitant around water, but this scene is lovely, a place I’d love to go. Only, above the peaceful scene is a streak of orange tinged with tips of vibrant red. The shape is so violent and contrasting to the serenity below it can only be one thing.
The water is on fire.
* *15 * *
I do not know what to make of it. Mrs. Greenwald comes over to check my progress.
“Such an interesting juxtaposition Violet. It’s almost as if the two halves of the canvas represent two completely separate scenes.”
“Yes,” I begin, “that’s what I was going for.” What else can I say? That I was given one shot at creating art and I have drawn a horrible fiery inferno? Why would I make this? Why?
The end of the day bell rings, and I drag myself outside, unsure of what to do. I seem to be falling prey to the same limitations as a Shadow, even from within a human body. I cannot properly connect with anyone, and everything I create is filled with darkness. My Reflection is a nightmare and even my physics teacher thinks I am a freak show. What a disappointing Person I am turning out to be.
I look up at the puffy white clouds overhead, wondering where exactly the Class Fours assume their careful watch. Do the Pentrals know about the switch between Violet and me? If so, why are they allowing this to go on? It has to be against every rule and yet no punishment has been issued. Unless, of course, my complete failure as a Person is punishment enough. Maybe the Class Fours are all having a good laugh at my expense, knowing I will have to live with the knowledge of my ineptitude for the rest of my Shadow servitude. I wish they would just change us back already. I have been fearful of their acknowledgment for Violet’s sake, but she has been working so hard as a Shadow, surely they would not punish her. I am the one to blame anyway.
I start making the walk back home when I remember Thomas is supposed to drive us over to Ben’s house this afternoon. I really do not feel like faking kisses and conversation, but I already agreed. I see Thomas come out the building, the sun streaking his sandy blonde hair and bouncing a glare off his glasses, and I give a little wave. His face lights up when he sees me. At least someone sees something good in me.
Ben lives high on a cliff overlooking the rest of Talline. His house is massive and covered in chrome, a less common but still highly reflective material. The unique silver sheen makes the mansion seem even more impressive, and rightly so—his father, William Kelly, is the founder of FreshView, a drug manufacturer located in the middle of town. FreshView specializes in medicines for terminally ill children, and has successfully created cures for many previously deadly diseases. Mr. Kelly is practically a celebrity in Talline—everyone knows and respects him. I guess it is hard to hate a man who helps cure the sick.
Ben greets us at the door, and the boys settle in to watch something on the holopane. I take my time walking through the house, noticing the hanging artwork. Real canvases hang in perfectly straight lines. They look as if they’re floating on the fingerprint-free glass walls. The Kellys can afford to purchase paintings by famous artists, so their home is a bit like a museum. Even if I am not meant to be an artist like I had hoped, I can still appreciate others’ talents. I gaze at canvases filled with luscious landscapes and abstract compositions, but the framed piece that holds my attention longest is not even a painting. It is a photograph.
The picture is of Ben and Mary, sitting on a large rock at the end of the lake. It must be from a few years ago. They are both laughing, Ben’s arm around his sister’s shoulder, Mary struggling to keep her long hair from blowing in her face. Even though the two are not blood related, they could easily pass for natural siblings. They both have beautiful brunette hair and caramel skin.
It is not that the picture itself is that remarkable; it is that is exists at all. Photography is a rare commodity. I remember hearing in one of Violet’s history classes how years ago, long before I became a Shadow, print photography was phased out in preference of digital imaging. The cost and time spent developing photos was so burdensome compared to the instantaneous results of digital. Not only that, but through holopanes, all images could be projected in three dimensions, making the two-dimensional plane of prints seem antiquated. Now, there are no more traditional cameras left. Even holopanes, with all their advanced technology, don’t have any built-in cameras. Persons have no way to take a picture of one another.
I look at the Kelly children, so happy in their captured moment. I wonder what it feels like, to be part of a family like that. To have people love you unconditionally. But then my eyes are drawn to the red hair being reflected by the glass wall. I tilt my head, and sure enough, the puffy face monster peers around the picture frame, scabs and all. Who would want this monster in their own family?
I make my way to the living room where the boys are watching something on the holopane. From the looks of it, Celestia Sky is introducing the start of the next program. Hmph. I bet she doesn’t have a monster staring back from her mirror. I turn toward the kitchen instead, only to find Ben’s father rummaging through the refrigerator.
“Violet,” William Kelly says warmly, a dazzling white smile clicking into place. “How wonderful to see you.” Th
e man is quite a wonder himself. I have never had time to notice before, but Ben and Mary’s adopted father is like a man carved from marble. Everything about his appearance is complete perfection: not a hair out of place or single disproportion. His skin is so goldenly bronzed it is almost shimmering, and his hair has stolen its pigment fresh from the sun. It is not often you encounter a Person of such sheer physical beauty. But his impeccable looks almost make me feel uncomfortable, as if my lowly form should not be allowed in his presence. My stomach ties itself in a knot.
“Nice to see you too, Mr. Kelly,” I say in a small voice.
“Oh, come on now Violet, how long have we known each other? Please call me William,” he says with an unflinching smile.
“Okay.” I do not know what to do with myself. I feel like it would be rude to walk away and yet I have no idea what to say to this man. I look down at Violet, lying calm and quiet on the expensive tile, and envy her hiding in plain sight.
“I went by the hospital today,” he says, breaking the silence. “Mary looks well.” His face falls a bit, as if he is trying to remain strong, but failing. I know how Violet has handled Mary’s condition, but I cannot imagine what it would be like to have a child in a coma. “Have you seen her lately?”
“Um, yes, I stopped by the other day. I owe her another visit though.” I think of Violet’s last hospital visit, confessing her shame to her comatose friend.
“You have always been so good to her. You and my Ben, always keeping a watchful eye.”
“I do what I can.” I pause. “It isn’t much.”
“No, it’s everything. I know Mary can sense when loved ones are present. You know, we haven’t made this information public, but FreshView is working on a prototype to help awaken young coma patients. I have a team of scientists who believe young trauma victims have a better chance of waking up, due to their brains’ resilience. I am very hopeful,” he says, looking directly at me, “not just for Mary, but Ben as well.”
For the first time I truly consider the effect of Mary’s condition on Ben. An orphan taken into a family after years of being on his own, he probably became good at building up barriers to keep himself safe. Ben was adopted years after Mary; he was already ten when he was accepted into the Alliance. For a long time, Mary held his hand everywhere they went, until he finally starting feeling comfortable around others. They are the same age, but Mary looked after him like a younger brother, showing him the ropes of how to have family and friends. Then just when he starts opening up his heart, his sister gets ripped away from him, once again leaving him without a world guide. It is not unlike myself. A Shadow with no one, a boy lost in the world.
Ben walks in the kitchen looking for snacks. I watch him dig through the cabinets, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and decide right in that moment to forgive him for his previous icy behavior. To erase any hesitation toward his friendship. Who am I, who has never experienced a loss such as his, to judge him? Maybe Ben has not always kept his emotions in check, but he is doing the best he can. And really, that is all one can do.
“Well, I’ll get out of you kids’ way,” William says. “We’ll see you tomorrow night at the anniversary party, right?”
I panic, scanning through my memories of Violet’s conversations to determine what he’s talking about. Anniversary party? For what? Then I remember trailing my Person at the mall weeks ago as she scanned store after store looking for formal wear. She and Thomas were still talking at that point but just barely, so her hunt was fraught with frustration. This party must be something they had planned on attending together, and she was clearly not looking forward to it.
“Of course, Dad. Teenagers love anniversary parties for major pharmaceutical companies. Wouldn’t miss it!” Ben interjects, provoking an exasperated expression from his father.
“All right, smart aleck. This is an important milestone for FreshView. Forgive me for wanting my loved ones close by.”
“Okay, okay, sorry,” Ben replies. “I can’t wait to stuff my face with your expensive hors d’oeuvres and talk to all your boring friends.”
“That’s the spirit,” William says, shaking his head. “Take care, Violet.”
“You too,” I reply.
“Hey, you want a drink or something?” Ben asks once his father leaves.
“Sure.” I start to reach above toward the glassware not noticing Ben is doing the same. Just as my hand touches a glass, his fingers wrap around mine, and a fiery current sends us both flying across the room. The shelf breaks, glass shatters on the tiled floor. I hit my head on the polished cabinetry and see that Ben has landed right at my side. We stare at each other, eyes wide in disbelief. I hear footsteps running to the kitchen, as we lie stunned on the floor. Yet I cannot be bothered with any of that.
Ben still has not let go of my hand.
* * 16 * *
“Let go of me! What is wrong with you?” I say in a panicked whisper.
“What is wrong with me? What the hell was that?” Ben replies, face tense with fear. He stands, shoes crunching in the glass, and pulls me up, letting go of my hand just before Thomas and Mr. Kelly enter the kitchen.
“What happened?” Thomas rushes over to me, immediately in caretaker mode. After a quick once over looking for injuries, he pulls me into him. Even in a crisis, Thomas is reliably calm.
Ben is shaken but does his best to hide it. He shows no signs of confusion or panic. His dad helps him clean up the broken glass, and he makes up a lie to cover our tracks.
“I lost my balance and reached out for the shelf, knocking it down. Sorry all, guess I’m not as smooth as I think I am,” Ben forces a joke. He wants everyone to think what happened here was no big deal, that we are okay. But we’re not. At least, I’m not.
We go back in the living room and resume watching the holopane like everything is normal. I can’t even focus on what’s playing. I keep running my fingers over my hand, which still stings from Ben’s touch. What was that back there? What is going on? Every so often I feel Ben’s dark eyes on me, but I don’t return his glance. I have to stay calm, pretend everything is okay. Resume the life of Violet, a regular girl who does not feel fire in her fingertips.
As we’re headed out to leave, I trail behind Thomas. Ben sneakily grabs my wrist, which reddens at his touch. I whip back and watch him mouth, “We need to talk.” I shake my head. Of course he has questions, what normal Person wouldn’t? Simply touching someone’s skin shouldn’t be such an explosive event. But the shooting sparks through my palm prove otherwise. Clearly, something is telling me to keep my distance from this boy. From now on, I intend to.
Once back at home, Violet is positively buzzing about the glass. I do not particularly want to talk about it, but she will not let up.
“Antares, it was crazy! When Ben touched your hand, it was like every inch of me turned inside out. I know you said Shadows can sense their Persons’ physical reactions, but wow, I did not expect that!” She is almost breathless with excitement. “What did it feel like for you?”
Energy. Like a lightning bolt running through my veins, a fuse ready to ignite.
“It was… intense. Weird. I don’t understand what happened,” I eventually admit.
“Yeah, sometimes these things are unexplainable.” I detect mischief in her thoughts.
“What are you talking about?” I ask in frustration.
“All I know is, I’ve touched Ben plenty of times, and it’s never catapulted me across a room.” Yes, I am sure of it now. She is messing with me.
“Are you insane? I could have really hurt him! Or, maybe he’s the one who could have hurt me! This is dangerous, Violet!” I am angry at her flippant attitude. All I have been doing is trying to piece together my Person’s life, and instead I am destroying it at every turn. If the Class Fours didn’t notice me before, I am sure they took note of me sending an innocent boy flying across his kitchen.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” Viole
t laughs, but I do not wait to see if she will. I take my hand off her dark form, releasing me from her thoughts. Violet spends a few days observing another life and suddenly she thinks she knows everything? Ridiculous. I know her vantage point—she is not the expert she thinks she is. Watching events from a safe distance is completely different from living them firsthand. I thought I knew all there was to being a Person before I jumped in this body. Now every day I realize how little I understand.
I crawl into bed and pull the comforter up to my chin. What is Violet insinuating about Ben and me anyway? It seems quite obvious that when we touch, a cautionary flicker is telling us to stay apart. To keep our distance, for safety reasons. Yet, Violet’s giggles imply the spark is something else—something positive even. Has she felt this kind of jolt before? Like when she touches Thomas? No. That cannot be right, I would have noticed it. The electricity between Ben and me is a warning.
I hear the holopane ring and ring, but do not pick it up. Its flashing light illuminates the shiny surfaces of the room, but I close my eyes in defiance. If it is Thomas, I do not want to reassure him for the millionth time that I am okay before expressing fake ‘I love yous’. And if it is Ben…
I force myself to sleep but am offered no respite. My dreams plunge me back into watery darkness, sinking deeper and deeper as I try to escape the faceless danger clicking behind me. The further I swim, the more I flail my limbs in protest, the more I choke on the flood. With every gulping breath, the closer the sound becomes.
When I awake, it is mid-afternoon. Mrs. Rayne made no attempt to wake me, and I’m sure Violet was happy for the extended intermission from her duties. It is strange to have slept for so long but not to feel like I got any rest. Regardless, I have to jump straight into action mode, as it is time to get ready for the FreshView anniversary party.
The Pentrals Page 9