by Shayn Bloom
“Oh,” Gabriel says, registering this.
Oh shit. Too heavy, too fast?
I pick up the owl cage. “I can get this. What’s his name?”
“Her name,” he begins, “is Merrifeather. She’s friendly.”
Huge amber eyes blink at me. She’s a pretty owl. What a bizarre pet. “Do they allow owls here?” I ask, gazing around as though expecting to see owls in cages erupting from car trunks and back doors.
“They do now,” Gabriel says. “Thank you for your help with the money, Nora. I won’t intrude on your day any longer.” Picking up his trunk at one end and taking the cage from me, the boy walks away.
I want to call after him, to tell him not to go, but I don’t know how. How can I make this more than just the casual meeting it is? I realize there is – quite simply – no other way to go about it.
“Wait!” I yell after him. I’m in the middle of the street, bouncing on the balls of my feet and looking like a fool. “Wait!” I hurry to where he is turned, objects still in hand, a half smile etched on his face. Holy bejesus is he pretty. Those teeth are so white! That smile so effortless! His hair so –
“What?” Gabriel asks, his smile faltering.
Oh shit! I’m gawking. “D – Do you want to get food later, or something?” I stammer.
A brilliant, full smile breaks across his face. “Later? Why later?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp. “I just thought –”
You’re sounding like an idiot, Nora, my alter ego tells me. An idiot. Get it together.
I’m trying! I tell her back.
“Let me put this stuff in my room,” Gabriel says, “then we can go. I’m hungry as a beast. Want to help me find my room?”
It’s all I can do to stop myself from jumping up and down with excitement. “S – sure,” I stutter. We’re walking across Red Square. “My Dad signed me in,” I tell him, breathless, “so I’m not sure where to get your key.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gabriel says airily. “I already have my key. And I know where my dorm is.”
I almost stop in surprise. “How did you get your key early? I tried doing that and they said they don’t allow it.”
Gabriel winks cheekily at me, hoisting the owl cage over a low lamp post as we walk. “I have my ways, Nora.”
“Want me to get that?” I ask, reaching out automatically for Merrifeather’s cage. “I don’t mind. Really, I don’t.”
“Fine, then,” Gabriel says reluctantly, and hands over the cage.
I’m surprised to find it light. Feather light, in fact. Hoisting it high, I peek inside. “Hi Merrifeather,” I say to the owl.
Merrifeather hoots gently at me.
“Told you she’s friendly,” Gabriel remarks. “I’m actually surprised she’s in such a good mood. Usually she’s furious after being cooped up for a while. Must be you, Nora – you’re bringing out her good side.”
I can’t help but notice people staring at us as we walk. I’m not surprised. I understand. Here I am – rather plain looking, in my opinion – walking next to a stunningly gorgeous blond boy dressed in long black robes and carrying an owl to boot. I see a girl openly pointing from across the commons. Gabriel is not noticing the attention he’s receiving. Is he always this oblivious?
“Are you from around here?” he asks, turning to me, turquoise eyes sharp.
I shake my head. “Not from Olympia, no.”
“Washington, I mean,” Gabriel says quickly, sounding agitated. “I mean Washington.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “Yes – I’m from Washington.”
“What town?” Gabriel asks quickly.
I stare back at him. “Baring. Why?”
“Baring,” Gabriel repeats, ignoring my question. “Baring – I’m not sure where that is. Is it on the Olympic Peninsula?”
I almost want to laugh at his ignorance, but think better of it. He seems in a pretty serious mood all of a sudden. “No – it’s closer to the center of Washington,” I say. “Southeast of Seattle.”
“Ah,” he remarks, looking let down. “I see. That doesn’t help me much.”
I gaze at him in surprise. It’s as though he’s speaking more to himself than me. How odd is that? Does he even know I heard him say that? I hope he’s majoring in psychology because he could use some insight.
“What –” I begin.
“Never mind,” Gabriel says, smiling down at me and seeming to snap out of his reverie. “I’m hoping to meet people from the peninsula is all. It’s a fascinating place, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” I say, staring at him. What the hell?
A cry rings the air as Merrifeather’s cage bangs into the side of a bench. Tensing in horror, I gaze in at the petrified bird. “I’m sorry!” I apologize loudly. “I – I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so sorry, Merrifeather!”
“She’s alright,” Gabriel says, gazing into the cage himself. “Just ruffled up a bit, aren’t you, sweetie?” Merrifeather glares at him before turning around in her cage to face the other direction. Gabriel sighs. “She does that when she’s pissed off,” he says matter-of-factly. “Has since she was a chick.”
“I think she’s adorable,” I comment, staring at her fluffy, white plumed feathers. Just as I say this, a lone amber eye opens to glare at me angrily. It closes again and she resumes her stance.
* * *
Gabriel and I are walking to the dining hall. We disembarked only after depositing his stuff in his room – a single, and admittedly much nicer than mine even while it shared a bathroom with four other singles. Merrifeather glared at us until we left, unforgiving of the recent, unfortunate incident.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, allowing myself to ask the question I’ve been meaning to ask since we met.
“You just did,” Gabriel says. “But if your question is whether you may ask a second question, the answer is yes.”
I ignore his word maze. “Why do you look the way you do?” I ask, gesturing to him. “The robes, the owl, those bizarre coins I saw… I didn’t see anybody else today with any of those things. Why?”
“We live in a society that demands conformity,” Gabriel says grandly. “We pretend this is a nation of individuals. The truth is that if you want to get ahead you have to act a certain way, dress a certain way, and live a certain –”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I interrupt. “And I agree with you, but you’re – you’re different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, you just are. I want to know what’s different about you. Since we met I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I can’t seem to. So now I’m asking.”
Gabriel slows and then stops, his gaze finding mine. His eyes are turquoise, like a lush field of green melting into an ocean of deepest blue. I’m lost in the sea of his eyes for a second, but then his lips quirk upward. And I’m lost in the white of his smile so devastating my heart clenches in my chest.
“Do you really want to know?” Gabriel asks.
Staring back at him, I nod.
He lets a long, delicious second pass before he speaks again. I’m okay with that. The longer I can melt in his gaze the better. “Then you will have to wait,” he says softly, making my whole body tingle without even touching me. “I do have a secret, just like everyone else. You will have to learn patience before you learn it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my heart thrumming in my chest. “I – I will be patient, Gabriel. I want to know.”
He blinks once. “Then maybe – just maybe – you will.” With that he continues forward in the direction of the dining hall.
For a second I’m rooted to my spot, unable to move, enveloped by the presence of his capture. But then feeling sets in again. I remember my pulse, and I’m able to run after him. I decide that I will find out his secret. I will discover it.
For now I know he has a secret, I know I must know it.
* * *
The dining hall is spacious
and inviting. It’s divided between a cafeteria style buffet and a sitting area. The sitting area is considerably larger, and now a mess of students and parents are enjoying a last meal together before parting. I don’t regret not asking my parents to the dining hall.
After swiping our student ID cards at the front, Gabriel and I make our way inside. Soon he’s busy at the salad bar and I’m heading right for the main dish. Yum! Spiced salmon – it looks delicious. Eating here every day is going to be amazing! Loading up, I get a pop and find a table by a large window. From across the room I watch as Gabriel makes his way to the fried foods counter. Moments later he’s sitting down opposite me, a boyish grin plastered across his face.
“What?” I ask, fork in hand.
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”
“No – tell me,” I demand.
He glances into my eyes before leaning back in his chair. “You didn’t get much to eat,” he says matter-of-factly.
I look down at the lone, small salmon filet on my plate. The decision not to get more food had been automatic, an easy one. “Oh,” I say, staring at my food. “I haven’t had much of an appetite recently. Dad – my Dad – thinks it might be related to nerves or something. Anxiety.”
“Ah,” he says, his tone deepening with interest. “That could be it. So you don’t have…you’re not a –”
I stop him in his tracks. “No,” I say more sharply than I meant to. “I’m not anorexic or bulimic or whatever the others are. Just not hungry is all.”
Gabriel seems satisfied. “They have a good salad bar here,” he begins, stabbing his plate with a fork, “I’m surprised. Hopefully it lasts past the parents’ visit. My guess is it won’t.”
“Salmon’s delicious,” I say, taking a bite. But I don’t want to finish the filet. Not because it’s not good, but because my stomach is twisting into knots and I feel sick at the taste – no – the smell of the food. Unable to eat past one bite, I lower my fork – laden with a second helping – to my plate.
“What’s wrong,” Gabriel asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing – I’m just not feeling well.”
“Anxiety?” he asks.
How quickly that became a standard, my alter ego remarks.
Shut up, I tell her.
“Maybe,” I allow. “You keep eating. I’m fine.”
Without waiting for further permission, Gabriel picks up his fork and continues. Now that he’s occupied with his food and I’m sitting directly across from him with a good view, I can finally take him in without feeling too abashed.
Robes or no robes, this boy is hot.
Straight blond hair covers his forehead and ears as exquisite turquoise eyes penetrate me deeply, filling my every crevice. His cheeks are round and full and beautiful. A soft nose peeks above staggeringly white teeth and a rugged chest is hugged by a V-neck shirt I can see over the top of his robes. A prominent Adam’s apple tickles my consciousness.
He is so cute. No – more than cute. Angelic.
I wonder if he’s a senior. “How old are you?”
He looks up in surprise. “Why?”
I shrug, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Just curious.”
“You first,” he says, a smile curving his lips.
“Promise you’ll tell?” I ask, trying to match his playfulness. I’m so bad at flirting.
Gabriel nods.
“Eighteen,” I tell him, “Like most of the people here, I’m guessing.” I gesture to the room at large with its many students and parents.
“Seventeen,” Gabriel says, his smile growing mischievous. “I only just graduated from Magasant in May.”
“Where’s Magasant?”
“Shit,” Gabriel says, closing his eyes and releasing his fork. “Sorry! Forget I said anything. I’m new… not used to being among your people. I – I forget myself. Magasant is nothing – forget I said anything,” he says hurriedly, his face reddening. The effect is making his cheeks burn which is making me squirm in my chair. He’s so delicious! “I’m already fucking up,” Gabriel says angrily.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “I want to know. Is Magasant a school somewhere? Where is it? What do they teach there? Does everybody graduate at seventeen?” I know I’m being nosy, but his embarrassment is only provoking my curiosity. Whatever this Magasant place is, it’s worth knowing about. I can tell.
His expression guarded, Gabriel raises his eyes from the table. “I can only tell you so much,” he says. “Magasant is here in the United States. North of Boston. And yes – we all graduate at seventeen. Unless you’re slow, that is.” A reluctant smile returns to his lips and he picks up his fork.
I stare at him, wanting to know more. Have I already pushed my luck? Who cares – I’m going to continue asking questions. “That’s what you’re about, isn’t it?” I ask excitedly. “That’s what’s different about you – the way you dress, your owl, everything. It has something to do with this Magasant place.”
Gabriel stops chewing midway through a mouthful of salad. Blinking, he resumes chewing and swallows, looking thoughtful. “You’re a clever girl, Nora,” he says, but his tone isn’t admiring. It’s dangerous. “But remember this – it’s often the intellects that are targeted for destruction in societies.”
I gape at him. What the hell? What is he saying? “Are you threatening me or warning me?” I ask.
“Warning you,” Gabriel says, averting his eyes. “I’m not in the business of threatening Immags. Oh, fuck!” Releasing his fork, he smacks his hand to his brow. “I’m hopeless here!” he moans.
“What are Immags?” I ask him.
“They’re nothing,” he says angrily, though I don’t believe he’s angry at me. His tone is drenched in self loathing. “Forget I said anything. Eat your fish.”
“I told you I’m not hungry,” I tell him.
“Then don’t ask questions,” he says, and resumes digesting his salad.
Remember to ask him what Immags are again. Remember to ask him what Immags are again. Remember to ask him –
“You’re still wondering, aren’t you?” Gabriel asks intuitively.
I nod once.
Gabriel sighs. “Ask me later. I’ll consider telling you. Maybe.”
“Excellent,” I reply. “I was going to anyway, but thanks for the reminder.”
Looking annoyed, Gabriel starts on a slice of pizza he brought back from the buffet. Silence falls between us for a few minutes while he eats and I think, the length of my curiosity abounding in all directions. But with no answers just yet, I’m forced to occupy myself with other distractions.
Looking around the room I see parents hugging kids, kids hugging parents, and feel an atmosphere of feverish excitement. So many of these other kids are on their own for the first time, independent and free. Just like me. I feel their excitement around me. In me. I know what they’re feeling.
I hope my parents have left by now. Is my roommate back yet?
“What are you thinking?” Gabriel asks, gazing into my eyes with the turquoise of his own. “I want to know.”
I match his gaze. “Thinking about the glories of going off to college. Of being independent. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been looking forward to this day since halfway through high school. Couldn’t come fast enough for me.”
“Hmm,” Gabriel muses, finishing his crust. He chews and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing down and up deliciously. “Didn’t give it much thought,” he admits. “I’ve been independent since I was eleven years old. Magasant is a – well, a boarding school – I suppose.”
“That young?” I gasp. “What happened to your parents?”
He stares at me, a gentle smile spreading his lips upward. “Nothing,” he says. “They’re fine. It’s just that where I’m from, boys and girls go off to boarding school when they’re eleven. If they want to. And they always do. When the signs show, you go.”
“What signs?” I’m breathless.
Gabriel b
links, and shakes his head. “I’ve said way too much,” he says, staring me dead in the eyes. “Who knows, Nora,” he continues delicately, “if I tell you much more I may have to kill you.”
I gape at him. Is he kidding? He sounds totally serious. Only his eyes are dancing with humor. Maybe that’s part of the joke. I’m mostly amazed – more amazed than scared. Somehow I can’t see Gabriel harming me, but maybe that’s part of the danger. Part of his magical allure.
Silence falls between us. I stare at him, half amazed and half horrified by his words. Since murderous rampages have become as common in colleges as high schools, one can never be too careful. Should I report him?
Gabriel on the other hand seems completely unfazed. He’s gazing around the room, searching every nook and cranny of the place. At one point he almost stands to see over the heads of a group of jocks sitting together at a long table.
“Looking for someone?” I ask flatly, warningly. I won’t take any more death threats. One more like that and this motherfucker’s getting reported.
“No,” he responds calmly. “Just looking around. I want to get an understanding of this place as soon as possible, Nora. I want to know the students here. What they’re like, how they differ, what their inclinations and orientations are – that kind of information. I find it… interesting,” he says, stretching the last word.
“Interesting?” I repeat. “What do you mean by that? What do you mean by inclinations and orientations? Like – like sexual orientations?”
Gabriel laughs, a guttural, musical laugh that makes my ears sing. “Not exactly, Nora. No, in fact. Not sexual. I’m interested in their interests and hobbies – pastimes, I guess. But appetites too.”
“Appetites?” I repeat curiously. “So,” I continue, a smirk breaking across my face, “are you learning much?”
Shaking his head, he gives up his search. “No,” he says stiffly, gazing into my eyes. “Not yet, anyway. But I will – I’m a very tenacious man, Nora. I have a tendency to do what I want and get what I please.”
“Boy,” I tell him. I’m determined to deflate his massive ego, seemingly growing more massive by the second.
“Pardon?”