“You want to know all the answers now. They’re coming too slow.” She keeps talking and keeps looking at Jake.
“Shut up and go away,” he says, frowning and looking back down to his book.
“Ah, really, Lindsey, this is kind of a private conversation,” Krystal interjects.
Lindsey turns to look at Krystal. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail today, one that swishes behind her as she moves. “You guys have a lot of private conversations. I’ve noticed that about you.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Now can you leave us to our private conversation?” Krystal rolls her eyes, something that seems uncharacteristic for her.
“It’s okay if you’re still on the fence about Franklin. Sex is a big step. You should actually wait until you’re married but statistics say that by the age of fifteen approximately thirteen percent of teenage girls have had intercourse. So I guess you could say you’re ready. Statistically, I mean.”
I think Krystal’s jaw will break, her mouth opens so wide. Then again, mine opens just as fast and probably just as wide. How did she know what Krystal and I had just talked about?
“What?” Krystal clears her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lindsey pulls up a chair from the table across from us and puts her book bag down on the floor. For a minute she just stares at us, then she lifts her leg—and because she’s wearing a jean skirt with pink ruffle at the bottom—we can immediately see her left ankle.
“So am I officially a member of the club now?” she asks, sitting back and crossing her arms. Her smile is smug, but her eyes still look like she’s seeking permission.
“Oh…my…” Krystal can’t even finish she’s so shocked by what she sees.
Jake grabs Lindsey’s ankle and just about yanks her across the table. “Where’d you get that? Did you paint that on?” he’s asking, but he’s already rubbing her skin fiercely, and it’s not coming off.
“No. Let go of me!” Lindsey protests, pushing Jake’s hands away. “I was born with it. Just as I suspect you guys were. I saw Krystal’s at the dance and thought it was just a coincidence. Then when we were in gym changing our clothes I saw yours, Sasha.”
She looks over at Jake with unmasked agitation. “You’re always covered from head to toe, so I don’t know where yours is, but I’ll bet my next year’s allowance you’ve got one.”
All I can do is nod. Yes, Jake has one. Just like me and Krystal and now Lindsey. We all have the same M birthmark.
eight
Which means we all have powers.
Lindsey’s I’m betting has something to do with mind reading.
“How long have you been able to do that?” I ask because my other two cohorts still look like something’s swallowed their tongues.
Lindsey looks at me, her brown eyes settling on mine. She huffs, and her wispy bangs lift and fall on her forehead. “Seems like forever. But I think it really hit me that I was different when I was around twelve.”
“How does it work?”
“I’m telepathic. If I look at you I can hear your thoughts.”
Krystal rebounds next. “At any time you can read my thoughts? Or anybody else’s thoughts?”
Lindsey shrugs. “Sort of. I mean, over the years I’ve figured out what keeps a lot of thoughts from crowding me.”
I’m curious, so I ask, “And what’s that?”
“The color black.”
“Huh?” Jake looks like he’s about to bolt at any second.
“If the person’s wearing black or I’m wearing black, I can’t get a read on their thoughts. So when I’m in a mood or just want the thoughts to shut up, I wear black.” She shrugs. “I mean, I could just not look at people and their thoughts would stay in their heads, but how long can I do that and lead a normal, productive social life? Know what I mean?”
“So why the color black?”
“Don’t know. Never figured that out. I was just so relieved to find something that worked. I just go with the flow.”
“Really? So you’re saying all you have to do is look at me and you can tell exactly what I’m thinking?”
At his doubting question, Lindsey turns, looks directly at Jake and says, “She’s more open to it than you think. Just tell her you like her and get it over with.”
Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink I’ve never seen on a boy before. Guessing who the “she” is in Lindsey’s assessment of Jake’s mind was a no-brainer. Although I doubt Krystal has figured that out yet. I can’t help it. I chuckle.
“Not. Funny.” Jake shifts in his chair and flips open another book. “I’m wearing black from now on,” he mumbles.
“Welcome to the Mystyx,” Krystal says, extending her hand across the table to Lindsey. “If you could just keep my thoughts in your head, that would be real cool.”
Lindsey smiles, taking Krystal’s offered hand. “I know how to respect people’s privacy. To the extent that’s possible for someone like me.”
I’m just about to answer her when I get a familiar sensation in the pit of my stomach. It’s like millions of tiny stars are moving inside of me, lifting me until I’m floating.
And then it’s black again, the total darkness that I’ve seen before. I feel weightless but not necessarily afraid this time. I’m going someplace. I can hear my name being called and it feels like someone is pulling me along, taking me to where they want me to be.
“Sasha,” the gentle voice is saying once more.
It’s closer now. This person, this woman, is closer to me. The darkness seems just a little lighter this time (if that’s possible) or maybe just the spot where I stare because I think that’s where the voice is coming from. I don’t know, but my heart’s pounding so hard I feel like screaming with its rapid pace.
“Stay calm,” the voice says. “You’re still in control.”
“In control of what?” I ask the absolute nothingness that’s there since it’s obviously talking to me.
I mean really, behind me there’s this dark place that I remember going through before I showed up at the nightclub with Antoine. And in front of me there’s all this light, like a bunch of combined headlights shining directly my way.
“She said you would come, you and your friends.”
“Who said that?”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’ve been sent to give you this message. Be vigilant, all of you. He’s coming back and this time he threatens everything.”
“Who? What are you talking about?” The light is dimming, my eyes stop blinking so fiercely at its brightness.
“The light will prevail,” the voice says slowly. “The light always prevails.”
The ending words are a whisper just as the last flickers of light are sucked away. A cool wind blows around me, and before I can open my mouth to ask another question—which would most likely go unanswered like my previous ones—I feel that floating sensation again.
Floating, but faster. More like falling this time.
Falling and falling until I feel the cool tile of the library floor and hear the loud thunk of the chair I was sitting in hitting the floor beside me.
“Sasha? Sasha?”
I come through this time to Krystal cradling my head in her lap and Lindsey holding my hand and plucking my cheeks at the same time. I can’t see Jake, but I know he’s there. They’re all calling my name.
“Shh,” is the first thing I manage to say. “We’re in the library, remember.”
“You should think about that before you go dozing off and falling out of your chair.”
See, I knew Jake was here.
“I didn’t fall asleep,” I say, rubbing my eyes and struggling to sit up.
“Then what happened?” Lindsey asks. “First you were talking and then you weren’t and then you fell.”
I pull my hand out of her grip because I don’t know if her mind-reading abilities increase with contact. She pulls the other hand from my cheek, which probably has a huge red mark on it by now f
rom all her pinching.
“It was that thing again. The manifestation of my powers. I went to the same place.” Then I think about what I am saying. “It was the same but different.”
By this time Krystal is helping me up off the floor and we’re all taking our seats again. Me, after Jake had picked up my chair.
“So you, like, black out or something?” Krystal asks when we’re all at the table.
She’s sitting to my right and Lindsey’s to my left. Jake’s across from us, his forehead scrunched up like he’s a fuse waiting to blow. I think he has anger management issues and, considering how strong he is, know that this can become a real problem.
“No. I’m awake. At least wherever it is that I go I’m awake.”
Jake’s shaking his head negatively. “You definitely looked asleep just before you slid out of the chair.”
“That’s what my mom and Casietta said when they were standing over my bed the last time. They said they’d been trying to wake me up. But I wasn’t asleep, I just wasn’t there.”
“It’s called astral projection,” Lindsey volunteers, nodding her head as if she’d just figured everything out.
“What?” I ask.
“How do you know?” Jake says through clenched teeth.
Lindsey looks over at him, then reaches across the table and touches his hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Jake. It’s a part of her powers. Like she said, they’re growing.” Turning her attention from Jake back to me, she continues, “Astral projection is where your astral body travels to another plane. But your physical body stays in one place.”
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Krystal shaking her head. “How do you know all this?”
Lindsey shrugs. “I have a lot of time to myself so I read different things. It sticks. Kind of like a photographic memory.”
Jake sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Mind reading and photographic memory, I guess those are your powers.”
He’s skeptical of Lindsey, has been since day one. Problem is, he can’t argue with the swirling M on her ankle.
“Nah, I think the memory thing is just natural,” Lindsey says, then kind of looks past Jake.
For a few seconds she’s quiet, and I almost think she’s astral projected somewhere.
“So okay, my power is manifesting and I’m traveling to some other plane and then reappearing in different places. How is that a power I can use? The voice said we had to be vigilant, that he was coming back for everything this time.”
“Who?” Jake questions.
Krystal simultaneously asks, “What voice?”
“The one I saw when I astral floated or whatever she called it. She said that we were to be vigilant, all of us. And that he was coming for everything this time. She also said that the light always prevails.”
“The light prevails. The light prevails,” Lindsey repeats. “I’ve heard that saying somewhere.”
“Did she say anything about the River Styx?” Jake asks, pulling one of the books from the pile he’d been reading. “I really think that’s a connection.”
“I do, too,” Krystal chimes in.
“I want to know what those birds have to do with anything,” I say.
“They’re probably watching us,” Lindsey says.
“What?” All three of us—me, Jake and Krystal ask in unison.
“You know, like a spy of sorts. In the movies there’s always warlocks or sorcerers and they send their familiars to go and search out their prey. Like the black cat skulking about. That’s usually a witch’s familiar. Birds can be familiars, too. The Greeks loved using winged creatures,” Lindsey answers as if everything she just said was common knowledge. I guess the girl must have had a lot of free time to read stuff.
“It’s closing time.” The librarian, with her tight curly hair and chocolate-brown leatherlike skin, comes over and taps on the table.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s seven fifty-seven. The library closes at eight. We’ve been here for over three hours. It didn’t seem like that long.
“Why don’t we do this.” Lindsey starts talking again. With her elbows on the table she leans forward, whispering to us. “Sasha and I will look into the thing about the birds and the email from Fatima.”
I told Krystal and Jake about this before Lindsey showed up, but then again, if she could read minds, she really didn’t need me to actually say it.
“You and Krystal start working on the river connection,” she keeps right on talking.
Krystal is standing, grabbing her purse and shaking her head. “That sounds good.”
“Yeah, great,” Jake says, standing up but not looking at Krystal.
“We’ll meet up again Friday after school,” I add.
“Oh, we’ve got that science trip Friday afternoon to the Nature Center. Are you guys going?” Krystal asks.
“I don’t have earth science,” Lindsey says. “I’m taking the GT biology and science fair preparation.”
“Lucky you,” Jake says. “I’m going on the trip.”
“Mrs. Paul asked me to go as a sort of chaperone so I can earn some of my service hours,” I say.
“You’re the same age as us. How are you chaperoning?” Krystal asks me, looking like she doesn’t believe a word I’ve just said.
“Because I’ve taken the earth science class and aced it, she thinks I can go to answer any questions or whatever. It’s no big deal.”
“Yup, no big deal. It’s so easy for some of us,” Jake says and walks away.
“Okay, so what is up with his funky attitude?” Lindsey asks.
“Can’t you just read his mind and tell?” I ask.
“No. It doesn’t work like that. I get snatches of thoughts but sometimes they don’t all go together.”
Krystal just shrugs and starts walking toward the entrance. “He’s just upset about his grades. Wants to make sure he keeps up his GPA so he can get into college.”
“That’s crazy. Jake’s smart, of course he’ll get in.”
We’re at the door. Jake had already gone through and Krystal was now pushing the revolving glass and brass door. Lindsey is between us and I’m holding up the rear. Outside is cool and we all migrate toward Mouse and the car.
“It’s not just about getting in, Sasha. He has to get almost perfect grades to get a full scholarship. He can’t afford to go to college otherwise.”
I know this, or at least I know that it’s Jake’s goal to go to college and get out of Lincoln. I also know that his father, who works as a janitor at the local electric company, doesn’t make a lot of money, and most of it goes to the part-time private nurse hired to take care of Jake’s grandfather.
“He’ll get in and he’ll be able to go,” I say confidently.
Jake is my friend, and like I said he’s smart. If anybody deserves to go to college, make something of himself and get out of this boring small town, it’s him. So I’m declaring he’ll go to college, if I have to dip into my trust fund to pay for it.
After all, we’re more than just friends. All four of us are so much more.
And as I walk thinking these thoughts, I happen to look up, and strange as it seems, there’s the moon. Well, half the moon, but it’s already sitting quietly in the sky as if it belongs there at this time. It’s spring, almost summer, days are already longer, so it’s still semi-light outside. As a matter of fact, if I turn and look the other way, I can still see the fading orb that is the sun. Both of them are in the sky tonight, sharing space and yet keeping their distance.
Clouds shift, and just before climbing into the car, I swear they form a letter, an M swirling on masses of billowy puffiness.
We, now the four of us, are definitely more than friends. We’re the ones who need to be vigilant. The ones I suspect are supposed to stop whoever “he” is and the “everything” he’s coming back for.
Question is, how are we going to do that?
nine
Tony is a Jet. That’
s a member of a group of white Americans who believe they are the “true” Americans.
Maria’s brother, Bernardo, is a Shark. The Sharks are first generation Americans from Puerto Rico.
The Jets and the Sharks don’t like each other.
But Tony likes Maria. And Maria likes Tony.
And that’s a problem.
Man, can I relate to this. Sitting in Mrs. Copaceptic’s English II Honors class is more uncomfortable today than any of the days yet this year. Last year we read William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and watched the movie with Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio. This year Mrs. Copaceptic—for reasons I’ll never understand—wanted to pick up on the same theme of star-crossed lovers, I suppose. We’re watching West Side Story, the 1950s musical that’s a remake of the way outdated Romeo and Juliet.
I guess this is outdated too since it’s over fifty years ago. Still, I think I like this version better. Maybe it’s because I’m multicultural with my dad being what they’d call “white American” and my mom being Argentinean. I suppose I’d be considered a member of the Sharks.
But then what would that make Antoine?
He’s definitely not “white American.” African-American, yes. So he’d be a twenty-first century Jet. We’d be the new generation Tony and Maria.
If I wasn’t so undecided about being with him.
The thing is, it’s not all about the racial issue for me. My reason for hesitating where Antoine’s concerned is more about my parents. About what their reaction would be to me bringing Antoine over for dinner or even taking him to prom. Dad would flip and Mom would spazz for a couple of hours, then give me some long boring speech about my responsibilities, my duties to my father, my family. Which is all a bunch of bull, but she’s been brainwashed to believe it.
Casietta says it’s because back home in Buenos Aires, my mother had nothing. My father was literally her knight in shining armor, rescuing her from poverty and hunger. You’d think that would make her more sympathetic to others less fortunate, instead of more judgmental. In return for my father’s rescue, she worships him, making every word that comes out of his mouth—and some that don’t—like a newly revised bible.
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