PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  When our toothbrushes are both back in the holder, I turn to Evie and say, “Don’t mention that to Dad, okay?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Evie says.

  My little sister moves on to curling her hair as I fish around for my makeup. We may look alike with matching blonde hair and green eyes, but our tastes in hairstyles are vastly different. Evie’s locks turn into gorgeous spirals while I spray on a leave in conditioner to get mine straight and frizz free. As we get ready, I can’t help but think about how much my dad has changed when it comes to Mason.

  He was the last one to admit Mason was real. I had been out in the backyard when I was about eight years old, tossing a Frisbee back and forth with Mason. I’m not sure how long Dad stood there watching, trying to figure out how the Frisbee was stopping in midair and flinging itself back to me. It must have been long enough for him to see the implications. The good and the bad.

  The good included Dad getting to have a son. Not that he didn’t love his two daughters, but I think all dads want a son no matter what they say. There is something strangely fulfilling in playing catch—which is something Dad and Mason do on a regular basis now.

  The bad had to do with Dad realizing that when I asked three years earlier if Mason could sleep in my room with me, and he had said yes, he hadn’t just been playing pretend with me. Not that anyone worried about what Mason and I were doing at night at eight years old, but well . . . we wouldn’t be eight forever. The spare bedroom got cleaned out the next day.

  Now, eight years later, we’re all sitting down at the breakfast table. Mom dishes out five, rather than four, plates of fried eggs and sliced cantaloupe like normal. Nobody bats an eye when it looks like a fork is spearing fruit pieces all by itself. This is totally normal for us, but we don’t have people over for dinner very often.

  “Evie, did you finish your algebra homework?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, Mason helped me with the last few problems.”

  Mom smiles at Mason—well in his general direction, anyway. “What about you two?” she asks Mason and I. “Did you finish your reports on The Federalist Papers?”

  “Mason’s is on your desk, and mine is in my backpack,” I answer for the both of us.

  You would think being invisible would get you out of homework. Not so. Once Mom quit freaking out about seeing Mason toss Evie in the air, she decided that if he was real, he was going to be treated just like her other children. He is required to sit through all my classes and turn in assignments. The only difference is, Mom grades his homework instead of my teachers.

  Dad looks up from his phone, where he was reading the morning’s most urgent emails, and says, “I have a couple of clients coming over this evening for dinner.”

  Mason’s body tenses in response to this news. I’m the only one who notices. I reach over to pat Mason’s knee reassuringly, but he pulls away. Frowning at his response, I turn back to Dad.

  “Mason, you’re excused from dinner tonight.”

  That only causes him to become even more glum.

  “Olivia, you’re excused as well.” Dad says, surprising both me and Mason. Dad hands over two crisp twenty dollar bills. “Have fun tonight, but please stay out of trouble.”

  Evie chuckles along with us at the memory of the incident Dad is referring to. We really didn’t think anyone else would be at the driving range that late. Mason just wanted to hit a few balls. None of us realized the attendant could see what we were doing. Poor guy.

  “Thanks, Dad. We’ll be good. I promise.” I take the cash and stuff it in my back pocket.

  Evie screws her face up in annoyance. “Why can’t I be excused too? Your dinner meetings are boring.”

  “Because little girls who ditch class don’t get to go anywhere,” Mom reminds her.

  That sets Evie to scowling. It’s just a good thing Mom and Dad didn’t discover that the reason Evie skipped out on history was so she could make out with her boyfriend. At fourteen, Evie is not supposed to have a boyfriend. At seventeen, I’ve been allowed for a while now, but that doesn’t mean Dad is all that keen on the idea. Luckily for him, I’m not all that social. I have Mason.

  I drop my dishes off in the sink and tug on Evie’s hair as I pass back by. “Come on, grouchy. We better get going or we’ll be late. Mason . . . ” I say, turning to ask him a question. My voice drops off as I see his backside retreating out of the kitchen without a word. Huh.

  A few minutes later, Evie and I head for my grumbly, creaky Cherokee. My parents can afford better, but Dad is an insurance executive, and he knows all the statistics of teenager drivers by heart. Not to mention the premiums. I get a safe, but not very cool car. He gets peace of mind and decent rates. I pull my door open and find Mason in the passenger’s seat, which is actually kind of weird. He usually tries to talk me into letting him drive.

  Not sure what to make of that, I climb in and pull out of the driveway. The drive to school is only about fifteen minutes. It passes in silence. Another oddity. Mason is a total chatterbox on normal days. When I pull into a parking space, Evie hops out and heads for Aaron Chaplin, her not-so-secret boyfriend. Mason makes a move to leave, but I grab his arm before he can.

  “Hey, what’s with you this morning?”

  Mason shakes me off and reaches for the door handle. I grab for him again, missing his arm, but snagging his hand instead. Mason stops trying to get away, but he doesn’t look at me.

  “Mason, what’s wrong?”

  For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me, then, his eyes snap up to mine. “Stop treating me like a freak, Olivia.”

  The heat of his accusation startles me. So do his words. “What?”

  “I’m tired of being less than everyone else,” he snaps.

  “Mason, what are you talking about?” The anger that flashes in his eyes is reflected in how he tosses my hand away from him.

  He’s really angry, I realize in shock. Mason never gets mad. Taking advantage of my surprise, he bails. He’s out of the Cherokee and slamming the door shut before I can move. It takes some effort to come out of my stupor and follow him. My brain catches up with him along with my feet a few seconds later.

  “Mason, wait,” I say as I catch his arm. “Is this about this morning in the bathroom?”

  He doesn’t answer, but the way his shoulders bunch up is answer enough. “Don’t do that again.”

  “I won’t,” I say quickly. “I was just playing around. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “Well, how would you like it if someone barged in on you in the shower?”

  It takes me a few minutes to answer. “But, she couldn’t see you, Mason. I wouldn’t have done it if she could.”

  “Exactly,” he snaps.

  Shaking my head, I try to make sense of his anger. “Are you mad about her turning the shower cold, or bursting in on you?”

  “I was naked! As in no clothes on. I don’t care that she can’t see me. It’s no different than if she could.”

  “Uh, yeah it is, Mason. I never would have sent Evie in if she could see you.”

  Mason’s hands shove deep down into his jeans pockets. “I don’t want it to be different,” he growls.

  Suddenly, things start making sense. Mason doesn’t pull away when I step closer to him and take his hand in mine. He has always been so good natured about being who he is. He was always willing to play a part in a well devised practical joke. He loves freaking people out. Halloween is his favorite time of year. But there have been times when I wondered if any of it bothered him.

  “It wasn’t just this morning,” Mason says more quietly. “It’s dinner, too.”

  “We get a pass on a boring business dinner,” I say, trying to sound chipper. “There’s this movie . . . ”

  Mason interrupts, saying, “It’s the reason behind everything, okay? No, I don’t want to sit through a discussion about insurance premiums. I know Evie didn’t see anything this morning. But both happened because I’m different.”


  I don’t want to sound accusing, or obnoxious, but I don’t get why this is all boiling to the surface right now. “Mason, what’s going on? None of this kind of stuff has ever bothered you before.”

  “I know,” he says with a sigh. “I love you and Evie and your parents, but . . . ”

  “But what?” I ask.

  “Sometimes I get tired of being the guy nobody can see.”

  Whatever I might have said to that, it gets stuffed back down my throat as we’re both ran into from behind. Mason catches me when I stumble, and we both turn around to find the culprit. A tall, lanky girl with wispy brown hair and bright, red-framed glasses is stumbling back to her feet as well.

  “I’m so sorry!” she gasps. “I’m totally lost. Can you tell me where the office is?”

  “Uh, it’s the first building on the right. It’s not attached to the rest of the school.”

  “Thanks a bunch,” she says with a laugh. A small shift in posture sends her bag sliding off her shoulder, which nearly sends the books in her arms scattering. It takes her a moment to get everything back under control. She clutches her belongings a little more tightly and looks back up, still smiling. “I’ve been wandering the halls for twenty minutes. Then someone told me to go back outside. I’m a mess.”

  At least I wasn’t the one who said it. I glance at Mason sideways. The way he’s trying not to laugh makes it even harder for me to keep a straight face. I turn back to the girl, who immediately sticks her hand out to me.

  “I’m Robin Montgomery, by the way,” she says happily.

  “Olivia Mallory,” I say as we shake hands.

  Our hands part ways, and then she does something completely unexpected.

  Robin sticks her hand out directly in front of Mason and says, “And you are?”

  Stunned is not a strong enough word to describe the look on Mason’s face. I’m pretty sure my jaw is sitting on my shoes.

  My, “You can see him?” is compounded with Mason’s, “You can see me?”

  Robin’s grin freezes. Her extended hand drops away slowly. She glances between us looking confused. “Uh, yeah.”

  “You can see me?” Mason repeats, clearly doubtful.

  Hugging her books a little tighter, Robin shrugs. “Is this some kind of new kid trick? If it is, at least it’s original. I’ve got plenty of experience with being the new kid, but I’ve never had anyone pretend I’m seeing things before.”

  “What do I look like?” Mason demands.

  Robin shrugs, apparently willing to play along. “Okay, you’ve got reddish-gold hair that’s longish, but not too long. You’re eyes are blue, but super dark, and they have this awesome silver color right around the pupil. That’s really neat! Do you wear special contacts?”

  Neither of us answers, too surprised by her accuracy and detail.

  Continuing, Robin says, “You’re pretty tall, well taller than me, anyway. You look like you might play soccer . . . or maybe baseball, judging by your build. And you’re totally hot, just in case you didn’t already know that.”

  That last comment breaks Mason out of his stupor, bringing on a grin. “I like this girl. Can we keep her?”

  “Does that mean I passed the test . . . or game? Whatever this thing was?” Robin asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, still a little shaken, “you passed.”

  Robin’s giggle brings another smile to Mason’s lips. He extends his hand again. “I’m Mason, by the way.”

  They shake hands, their eyes glued to each other in a way I find myself just a bit irritated by. The feeling only intensifies when Robin looks over at me and says, “Please tell me Mason isn’t your boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” I say, nearly laughing. “No, he’s my . . . ”

  I struggle to find a word that explains what Mason is to me. Robin waits patiently for me to finish confirming Mason is single and up for grabs. Mason, oddly enough, has stopped ogling Robin, and is now staring at me rather intently. The sudden pressure to define Mason’s role in my life makes me falter and stumble through a rather incoherent answer.

  “Mason’s my brother, well, kind of . . . I mean he’s not really, but he’s my, um, best friend. You know what I mean?”

  “Uh, sure?” Robin says. No way she understood my rambling, but I think she gathered enough to determine Mason isn’t my boyfriend, so she seems happy enough.

  I glance over at Mason for help. The sadness echoed in his eyes startles me. He turns away to listen to whatever Robin is now saying, leaving me confused and hurt. Did I not give the right answer? I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings, but I’ve never had to explain Mason to anyone outside my family before. I think of him as my brother, but I know he’s really not. I stand there feeling like a jerk as understanding hits me. Right after he confessed his frustration about being different, I have to point out that he is the odd man out in our family. Why didn’t I just say he was my brother and leave it at that?

  Robin’s sudden gasp brings me out of my thoughts. I’m surprised to see her hands pawing at Mason’s neck. I step forward, wondering what has her so worked up, but all I see is the weird birthmark Mason has always had. The trail of pigment that looks something like a meandering stream isn’t your typical blotchy birthmark, but it’s certainly not worth practically crawling up Mason’s body to get a better look!

  I step forward to get this strange girl off Mason, but she finally snaps her hands away and gapes at him.

  “Oh my gosh! You weren’t kidding, were you? You really were surprised I could see Mason!” she squeaks. “I had no idea! Why didn’t you just tell me Mason is an Aerling?”

  Chapter 2

  Caretakers

  (Mason)

  The final bell rings as Olivia and I stare at Robin. We are both too stunned to react, but Robin jumps at the sound. “Oh my goodness! I am never going to make it to class today. Can we meet up at lunch? I don’t know anyone else, and I have like a zillion questions to ask you! Where do you two usually sit? Oh never mind, I better run. I’ll just look for you, okay? See you at lunch!”

  She whirls away, nearly dropping her books again, and starts jogging toward the office. I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around Robin. The rambling monologue she just threw at us certainly didn’t help. Olivia is the first to break the silence.

  “Mason, what did she just call you?” Olivia asks.

  I shake my head. I have a million questions, but I’m also terrified. I try to play it off as nothing, hoping Olivia won’t notice my fear. “I think she said Air-ling. Maybe? Either that or she called me an earring.”

  Olivia smacks my arm. “She did not say earring.”

  The fact that the bell rang, and we are both now tardy, finally sinks in. We start toward our class, but that hardly means our minds are on school. Fear tried to hold my curiosity hostage, but it isn’t strong enough. “What the heck was she talking about? And why could she see me?”

  “I have no idea. She was beyond weird,” Olivia says. She bites the corner of her lip. “I mean, she was nice, but strange.”

  “She said I was hot.” I grin as Olivia rolls her eyes. “What? It’s nice to know! No one has ever told me that before.”

  “That’s because no one but me has ever seen you before,” Olivia says as we approach the door to the classroom.

  I smirk at her. “So are you saying I’m not hot?”

  Her answering glare isn’t very encouraging. “Really?” she snaps. “We just met the only other person who has ever been able to see you, and she seems to know something about what you are, and all you can think about is whether or not you’re hot?”

  “So? I’m curious. You know you’re beautiful. Everyone thinks so. Guys stare at you all the time. I don’t have the benefit of external validation of my appearance. I’ve got you, that’s it. You’ve never said a word about my looks. So, yes, I’m curious. Am I attractive?”

  Olivia shrugs, annoyed that I am not taking this as seriously as she is. “I don’t know. I
guess? I’ve never really thought about it, okay?”

  Her hand reaches out for the door, but before she pushes it open, she turns around to glare at me. “When you decide to take this Robin chick seriously, let me know. Her seeing you may not be a good thing. Think about that,” she snaps.

  She yanks the door open and stalks to her desk. I follow at a more leisurely pace. In truth, Robin’s words did freak me out. I think it’s awesome that she can see me. Her having a name for me . . . there’s a good chance Olivia is right. It could change things. One thing I know from experience is that change is not good.

  Lately, living under a separate set of rules because of who I am has been getting to me, but I still wouldn’t trade my life for anything. The idea of not being with Olivia, or Evie and their parents, scares me more than I care to admit. They are my whole world.

  Slipping into an empty seat at the back of the room, my mind continues to whirl. For a long time, I am stuck thinking about the word Aerling and what that might mean. I try to contemplate the impact Robin might have on my life, but after a while, I decide to give up because I know too little to figure anything out and I’m too scared to try. I resign myself to three more hours of confusion before I can ask Robin a few questions. In an effort to distract myself, my thoughts turn back to Olivia and the answers she gave today.

  My eyes slip over to her. Quietly staring at the board, pretending to be interested in a lecture on the Napoleonic Wars, Olivia takes no notice of me. As I watch her, my jumbled thoughts slow. I wasn’t kidding when I told her she was beautiful. Her strawberry blonde hair makes me think of summer days playing outside. Her lips are only a shade darker than her hair, and her dark green eyes border on evergreen.

  What makes her even more attractive is that she doesn’t seem to care. She’s not one of those girls who doesn’t understand how pretty she is or pretends not to know in order to tease. Olivia knows she’s attractive, but she doesn’t see why that matters. Guys hit on her and she shrugs them off without another thought. I wish I could shrug it off when guys hit on her that easily. Nothing irritates me more.