“It’s a mark of high rank. Symbolizing the vigilant presence of Pentrals in the human realm,” he says, pride beaming. He rolls his sleeve back down.
Seeing the oculoy gives me hope. Hope that I can do this. Knowing I am not alone. Mr. West was a Class Two like me, and look at him now—empowering other Pentrals. Maybe that could be me someday. Maybe I can do something right.
For the first time I have reason to believe things will be okay, that everything is as it should be. Or will be, once I get done revealing the Reflections as the frauds they are.
* * 21 * *
The next morning I head to the hospital with a renewed sense of self. No longer am I a puppet, following the whims of others. I am an agent of my own destiny, determined to complete my mission and make my mark. I won’t let anything stand in my way. Not this time.
The route is practically paved with mirrors, but for the first time since jumping into Violet’s body, my Reflection does not haunt me. Silently it continues to stalk my path, swollen lumps and blotchy skin popping up on every building and street corner, only now it has no power over me. I know something it does not. At a crosswalk, I stop to take a good hard look in a shiny streetlamp. The convex shape of the pole pulls my features into an even more distorted arrangement, but I don’t care. I move in close, my nose inches from the glass. You are nothing but a mirripulation. I will destroy you.
Talline Hospital is quiet for a weekend. I have tagged along for countless visits with Mary, and the weekends usually seem busier, probably due to Persons’ work schedules. Still, while I am familiar with the building floor plan, I am surprised at how the space feels exactly as I imagined. I have not guessed correctly about most of the human world, but this place feels as cold and sterile inside a body as I envisioned from down on the floor. How can anyone become well here?
Stepping off the elevator on Mary’s floor, I hear music coming from down the hall. The faint strum of a guitar adds much needed life to the formal environment, and I follow the melody straight to Mary’s room. I stand outside the doorway and eavesdrop for a moment, catching what must be the end of a serenade.
If I forgot my name, couldn’t see my face
My heart would still ache for you
If all my memories had been replaced
I’d find my way back to you
I recognize the voice and for some reason, my heart jumps into my throat. It is Ben, singing softly to his sister. I panic and briefly consider leaving, but remember the journal. I cannot go empty handed, but feel it would be rude to interrupt such a private moment. I wait for the last note to strum before tapping on the doorframe and peeking in.
“Oh hey,” Ben says, blushing. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” I say, looking at the tile.
“No, it’s cool. Come in.” Ben is seated on Mary’s right, so I pull up a chair on her left. Nothing has changed since I saw her last. A collection of Violet’s drawings still rotate on the holopane, shining their brilliant colors on the hospital equipment, though Mary’s eyes remain closed, unable to see them. I give a quick look down at Violet clinging to my feet. Even though from her angle she cannot see Mary, just being so close to her best friend must be hard.
“That was pretty, that song. I didn’t know you play guitar,” I say to Ben.
“Oh sure, just trying to cover all fantasy bases over here. Athlete, musician, professional heartthrob, etcetera,” he smirks. I have noticed how he never smiles with his whole mouth, as if using his entire face would give away too much, reveal too much about what emotions he has locked away. Still, even at half, it’s a nice smile.
“Well, it’s always good to be prepared,” I answer.
“I’ll probably take up cooking next. Girls like that, right?”
“Sure.” I don’t really know what girls like, only what has excited Violet in the past. “Don’t forget to rescue a puppy while you’re at it,” I add.
Ben laughs. “Genius! Who could resist that? Plus Mary always wanted a dog.” His face falls, the joke is over. We sit in silence awhile.
“I miss her, Violet,” he says to me while looking at his sister. Tears are forming in his eyes but he fights them back. I have only ever seen him like this once before, the night of her accident. Thomas and Violet had no problem letting their emotions show, but Ben teetered on the edge, not knowing how to handle it. “What if she never wakes up?”
Ben’s hand is on the foot of the bed, and I consider taking it. Sparks be damned; this is Violet’s friend, and he needs support. I place my hand on the sheets and start to slide it his way, but before I meet his fingers, I make contact with Mary’s Shadow.
Blue, the Shadow of my Person’s longest companion. I would have to say I know her better than any other Shadow, which still is not saying much. We spent years outlining Violet and Mary dancing, playing, laughing, always alongside each other but never completely engaged in the other’s world. We exchanged thoughts here and there, but kept our Pentral commitment top priority. From what I experienced though, Blue, who named herself after the sky we spent so much time looking up at, was lovely. Her sentiments were always welcome.
But here, lying motionless in a hospital bed, is not the Blue I knew. When my hand meets her form, a low, rumbling moan enters my consciousness. She has been lying here for months, no variation to her routine and no way to change her status. This must be the first Pentral contact she has had in ages, but she cannot even form a single word, let alone a cohesive thought. Her mind, so starved for activity, aches to find something to say, but cannot. She lets out one more tortured groan before I move my hand back to my lap. I am unable to listen for another second.
My eyes become full, an unfamiliar feeling. It is too much—Ben mourning his lost sister, Blue suffering like a Class One prisoner—and I cannot hold it in. Water starts flowing, warm and wet down my cheeks. I have watched Violet cry and understood the tears to mean sadness, but until now, with droplets running down my face, it was never clear how deeply connected the action is to the emotion behind it. My grief is too great for my body to hold within; the water acts as a clearing agent, expunging the pain. The tears exhume the well of sorrow within, and I allow myself to drown in the moment.
I am so consumed with my sadness, my most painful emotion to date, I don’t notice Ben has moved from his chair over to me. It is too late to resist as he wraps his arms around me. The moment our bodies touch, the current is there just as before, running from my shoulders to every inch of me. But instead of shooting us apart, the spark almost binds us together, wrapping us in its electric strength. The tears slow as I adjust to the warmth Ben supplies. I feel guilty, accepting his comfort when I should be the one consoling him, yet I do not refuse. His strong arms are like an anchor, keeping me from completely sinking down. But I am not adrift—the lost boy found a way to save me.
“I don’t know about you,” Ben says over my sobs, “but I figure, if you’re going to burn me alive, might as well do it where I can receive immediate medical attention.”
I laugh, tears transferring from my face to his shirt. I feel better, but stay in his arms a minute longer. I look up at him and see his face has relaxed as well.
“What’s going on with that anyway?” he asks.
“I really can’t explain it!” I say through lingering tears.
“You mean, you’re not gonna say you have the hots for me?” he jokes.
I snort. “Um, no, especially not after you said that.”
A nurse comes in to check Mary’s vitals and we jump apart as if caught in a crime. We sit in silence, awkwardly eyeing each other as the nurse updates her holopane charts. I don’t know why we are both acting so strangely. Violet and Ben are friends; shouldn’t friends be able to comfort each other? It is not like we were holding hands or nuzzling one another. Lots of people of different relationship statuses exchange hugs, right?
“So, I think I’m gonna get
going,” Ben announces once the nurse leaves. “Do you want a ride home?”
“Sure, thanks,” I reply. I smile, and it surprises me to feel pleased at securing a little more time with him. We both get up to leave when I realize my hands are empty. Oh gosh, my mission—the journal. I can’t leave without it. “Can I have a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He stands and gently takes his sleeping sister’s hand. “Please come home soon, Mary,” he says to her. “It’s too much pressure being the most intelligent, attractive child in the house.” He picks up his guitar and slings it over his shoulder. With his dark hair pushed up off his forehead and tall, lean stature so close to me, his words flood my mind. Just trying to cover all fantasy bases. “I’ll see you outside,” he says to me.
I start the hunt for the blue leather journal. In such a small space, there are only a few places it could be. I check the closet across the room but it only contains bed linens. There is a cabinet next to the door but it is locked, probably full of medical supplies. Finally, I check the bedside table. On top is a vase of yellow daisies. The drawer is completely empty except for one item—the journal. Jackpot. A nurse must have put it here after Violet left it in Mary’s hand. I quickly scan through the pages filled with writing, formulas, and a few small drawings, and notice a few pages near the end have been torn out. Hmm. Odd. Paper is such a rare commodity, seems wasteful to just rip it up.
Before I go, I squeeze Mary’s hand as Ben did, thinking maybe the familiar feel of her friend’s hand will help. Mr. Kelly’s words return: I know Mary can sense when loved ones are present. And though it pains me to do so, I run my hand over to Blue. The ghostly absence of expression returns, but instead of breaking down, I offer her something to hold on to. Don’t give up Blue, I think. Don’t give up the fight.
Upon connecting consciousness, I hear a low murmur, like an undercurrent trying to break the surface. She struggles, wrestling to articulate a response, but eventually succeeds. One word, released from the depths of her desperation, reaches me, though I am unsure of its intent.
In a creaking, older than death voice, Blue croaks:
“Justice.”
* * 22 * *
The word rolls around in my head as I make my way to the parking lot. The first word Blue has probably used in months and she chooses ‘justice’? Why? And for whom? Justice for her Person, trapped in a coma, or herself, unfairly living out the penance of a lower class? I am not sure.
It is nearly noon. Once outside, Violet joins me, a small spot under my feet. I wonder what she thinks about Blue’s message, but I will have to ask later, as Ben is waving me over to his carpod.
A simple act, and yet suddenly I am whisked away, flooded with a vision. Everything is illuminated, much brighter than the afternoon sun could ever burn, the edges of the scene blurred with an amber haze. A boy, dressed in clothes from a different time, stands a distance away. Blue water sparkles on the horizon. He is waving, strong muscular arms poking out from a gray, suspender-strapped shirt. He looks absolutely delighted to see me, dazzling brown eyes filled with love, as if my presence is completing his existence. If it was not for the full, white-toothed grin spread across his face, I could swear it was…
Ben calls out to me, and I am back in the parking lot. A memory, it had to be, only it cannot be Violet’s. I would remember the scene.
“Violet!” I hear, cutting the vision away. “Hey, where’d you go just now?” Ben asks when I make it to the carpod.
“I think I had a flashback,” I say with uncertainty, “only, I can’t remember it ever happening.”
“I had one of those the other day. I was on a boat, or something, and a girl with insanely blonde hair was smiling at me. I’ve never seen her before, but, in that moment, I felt like I knew her my whole life.”
“What do you think it means?” I ask, confused. Why would a Person remember something that had never taken place?
“Who knows?” he shrugs. “Maybe it’s déjà vu, something we saw in a past life.”
This gets my attention. A past life? I certainly have one of those. “Do you believe in that? Past lives?”
“Sure, why not? Who’s to say this is my first time around the block?” I am hanging on his every word. “Besides, if I had a girl like that in my last life, maybe I’ll be so lucky again,” he says, his face looking absolutely charming. I can’t keep my cheeks from blushing.
It is a short ride back to Violet’s house. My thoughts are racing but I try to keep my mind in the carpod and not drift elsewhere, though I’m not very successful. Déjà vu… I wonder if that’s a real thing, or if Ben is just messing with me as he tends to do. Why would Persons be given the gift to see into past lives, when the Shadows at their feet are desperate to remember even a sliver of theirs? It seems unfair, a waste of abilities. So many have been given so many blessings, when so many have to go without.
“Hey,” Ben says, tethering me down. “Sorry about what I said, in Mary’s room. About her not waking up. I didn’t mean to upset you. You know I don’t really think like that.” He keeps his eyes steady on the passing canyon scenery.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I respond. Clearly, he still needs comfort from his friend. His hand is on the seat, and I reach to touch it, like I intended to in the hospital. The spark reignites, tingling my palm as it rests on the back of his hand. “I am here for you.”
“Thanks,” he replies, turning his glance toward me. The moment our eyes meet, my heart beats faster, and I squeeze his hand tighter out of surprise. What is happening here? Simple expressions of friendship are creating strange reactions when I am around Ben. I don’t understand the change.
But I don’t have time to, as we are pulling in the driveway and someone is waiting on Violet’s front porch. Thomas.
Behind his glasses is a slight look of concern at seeing his best friend drive up with his girlfriend. I know I need to calm any suspicions, for Violet’s sake. Regardless of how I truly feel for him, I still must play my part. I take my hand off Ben’s and feel him watching as I approach Thomas. I wrap my arms around his waist, sensing his body relax at my touch. He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head.
“We were visiting Mary,” I say into his t-shirt.
“Oh,” Thomas breathes with relief. “Everything okay?”
“I’m glad you’re here.” I am giving a great performance. I have nothing against Thomas, but wish I could be alone right now. I want to read through Mary’s journal and my heart is still pounding from this morning’s events. I have been given a problem to solve, an opportunity to shed my passive past. I want to dive in, but remember that first and foremost, my Pentral responsibilities must be satisfied. I cannot neglect my duty to Violet.
“Okay, well, bye,” Ben calls from the carpod. I can’t help but think he looks a bit disappointed in my leaving to be with Thomas. That can’t be right though. If anyone should understand the magnitude of Thomas and Violet’s relationship, it’s Ben. He’s watched it play out for years, and has probably had to listen to an entire soundtrack of Thomas’ pining. So maybe Ben and I shared a moment in the carpod that was cut too short, but what can I do? I meant what I said: I, Antares, am here for him. But Violet’s heart belongs to Thomas, so I must concentrate on him first.
We give Ben a wave as he pulls away, and I do my best to apologize with my eyes, sending the lost boy off on his own once again.
“I thought we could spend the day together,” Thomas says. “You up for some lunch?”
“Sounds good,” I reply, still clinging to him. Violet would be proud.
We take a scenic drive through Talline. Without a cloud in the sky, the town is radiating with light. Though red canyon rock peaks out from most structures, the overwhelming element is glass, and every bend in the road gives way to sparkling mirrored structures. As a Shadow, I spent so much time looking at my Person, I never fully took in the world around me. Today, it would difficult to
imagine a place more beautiful than Talline.
We sit down at an outdoor restaurant, Rockport’s, near the marina. It has an unobstructed view of the lake. It is a spectacular effect—the mirrored façade of the restaurant echoes the lake, giving the feeling of being surrounded by water. Truly beautiful, and yet as I look around at the other patrons, no one else seems to be enjoying the scenery as much as me. Breathtaking views, bright sunny skies, warm air, but the faces are pulled down, unhappily pushing seafood on their plates. The older diners are doing their best to avoid eye contact with glass, a nearly impossible feat, while the young are completely oblivious. The only smiles come from children.
It is a waste, but for the first time I understand how Persons can be so downtrodden amongst such beauty. I turn directly toward the mirrored wall. My Reflection faithfully glares back, a dark spot in the remarkable scene. It’s like a punch in the gut, a visual rendering of my deepest insecurities and fears. Suddenly, I lose my appetite.
Reflections, horrible mirripulating Reflections, follow everyone, not just myself. They lurk on every corner, crawl out from every surface, following every single Person as they go to work, to school, to dinner, to bed. No wonder the adults of this town always look so depressed; they have been trailed by a hideous creature for a better part of their lives.
The Pentrals Page 13