I’d handled blades sharp enough to cut through to the bone and swung tethered to a trapeze artist high in the big top. I could see dead people, for Pete’s sake, floating around grocery stores and public parks and libraries. Lions didn’t scare me. High wires were child’s play. The shades? Meh, what’s a few dead people between friends?
But public school was one of those mysteries that blanketed me in a foreign, uneasy sensation. I think they cal it terror.
Al I had to do was claw my way through the next four months.
Yeah, that was all I had to do.
:3:
I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?
—Sir John Suckling
The box from New Horizons Welness Sanctuary had been sitting in my end of the fifth wheel for weeks, unopened. At night, I could hear the box beckoning me, whispers of my mother’s diseased brain taunting me to cut through the tape and have a walk through what was left of her existence. To drown her out, I’d begun sleeping with my iPod on its loudest setting, luling me to sleep with The Dead Weather and 30 Seconds to Mars, the occasional Ozzy and Marilyn Manson thrown in there to make it louder, angrier.
Then I’d sleep like a baby.
Marlene tried to cheer me up, get me excited about starting school, by offering to take me shopping. Numbness was the emotion du jour, so walking through a crowded mal to try on jeans and bras was nothing more than a series of movements to keep the peace. On autopilot, my arm hooked through Marlene’s so we wouldn’t lose one another in the crowd, me faking smiles when something fit, thanking her graciously when she handed over a stack of hundreds to a stunned cashier at the Apple store. The one perk to Dmitri Holdings taking over Cinzio? Cash.
I had avoided the communal dining thing since the cal had come in from the mental hospital. Delia’s shrink, Dr. Talbot, was forever branded into my memory as the man who kiled Christmas. “We have some unfortunate news, Gemma.” Yeah, you could say that.
He made the Grinch look like, wel, Santa.
While she understood, Junie missed me at the dinner table, her acquired sister and confidante. But she left me alone. Lately, I’d spent most of my non-study time in the company of Gertrude and Jiminy. My elephants never left me wanting for anything after my time with them. A few apples and a gentle rub to the forehead was al they asked.
I slipped into the meal tent and grabbed some food: chicken breast and steamed asparagus for me, three apples in the left front pocket and two leftover bran muffins in the right (thanks to Chef Jean-Pierre) for the pachys. I did what I could to avoid being noticed, although the shade who lives in the tent looked up at me as I passed through with my plate. He’d been with us for a long time, as long as I could remember, minding his own business, always sitting in the same spot in the southwest corner no matter where we set up the tent, in Kentucky or Idaho. He was perpetualy whittling, the same piece of wood, always the same look on his face. At the time of his death, he couldn’t have been much older than Ted, but his hair was al grey, not like Ted’s that got the monthly chop-and-dye treatment from Marlene. The whittler didn’t often make eye contact with me but when he did, his face looked sad. I’l bet he was waiting for someone.
After a good trunk nuzzle and replenishing of hay, I sat and contemplated eating my dinner. Seemed the early spring horseflies were more interested in it than I was, so I scooted the plate onto another hay bale and let them go at it.
“Hey…” Ash’s voice startled me.
“Hey.”
“You don’t feel like hanging out?” he said, nodding toward the dining tent.
“Nah. Too noisy.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty excited in there. So many new clothes and toys in one day. I think Junie’s head is going to explode.” Ash stood in the opened tent-flap doorway and lit a Marlboro Red. “Want one?”
I shook my head no.
“So, how’s it going, Gems? Ya know…you doin’ okay?”
“Fine. Everything’s fabulous,” I said.
“You nervous about going to Eaglefern?”
“Doesn’t matter how I feel about it. It’s happening, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I suppose. But it doesn’t have to be al bad,” Ash said.
“Maybe it’s going to be good for us to meet new people and stuff.
Be normal for once.”
“I like being abnormal.” I picked a piece of hay from my bale and set to puling it into shreds, my fingernail puncturing the yelow shaft.
Ash snuffed out the butt on the sole of his shoe and flicked it into a muck bucket. Then he plopped down next to me, his arm around my shoulders.
“You thinking about your mom?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on? Junie and me, we’re worried about you.
We know you’re going through a rough time, but you never talk to us anymore. You’re…different.” He moved his finger to my chin and turned my face so I could look at nothing else but the hazel brown of his eyes. The scent of nicotine was heady on his fingertips.
I could feel the pressure of tears building, but crying would solve nothing. People would stil leave, they’d stil die, decisions would be made without my consent. What would be the use in crying?
I turned away. “I am different, Ash. I’m an orphan. For real.”
“You’l never be an orphan. The Cinzios would never let that happen. Hel, my parents would adopt you before that would happen. And you’l be eighteen in a few months, anyway.” His left hand moved to rest atop my right. “If it’s school you’re worried about, you won’t eat alone. Junie and I wil be there, too. Three Amigos and al that shit. Yeah?” He held up his pinky finger. “I, Ash Thomassen, hereby solemnly pinky-promise to Gemma Flannery that she won’t wander the hals or eat lunch alone, unless, of course, she chooses to.”
I wrapped my pinky around his and gave the automated smile designed to make the people around me feel like maybe I wasn’t going to jump off the nearest cliff, that there was hope lying dormant under the despair. But he made it sound too easy. Ash was adorable, dangerous, charming…and manipulative. A legend in his own mind.
“And think of al the smokin’ hot babes just waiting for us to conquer,” he added, flexing and kissing one of his biceps. And thus the truth according to Ash was revealed: our imminent enrolment at Eaglefern High School wasn’t about advanced learning opportunities but rather about finding fresh meat.
“Junie’s open to the possibilities. Maybe you should be, too. A little Mr. Right action, yeah?” He elbowed me and wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, even my folks are saying that it wil be good for us to meet new kids.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “I don’t need to meet new kids.
And I sure as hel don’t need to meet Mr. Right.” What made Ash and I so far apart in our outlooks was that he wanted the attention from other people; he wanted the throngs of teenage girls to swoon at his bravery, the sultry eyes, washboard abs, and that mussed brown hair. And swoon they would. Hel, I’d done my fair share of dreaming about Ash over the years. He was cute, funny, even crazy sometimes, but in a hilarious prankster, stomachache-from-laughing way. I guess with a job as life-and-death as the trapeze, every day was a big day for Ash.
But I couldn’t have cared less if anyone at EHS, male or female, paid attention to me. Ever. The less attention, the better.
Ash dropped his arm from its protective wrap around me and stood, his left hand out. “Come on. They fired up the ice cream machine tonight in honor of the special occasion. Chocolate almond fudge and strawberry cheesecake, your faaaaavs,” he sang. “I’l scoop you a cone myself.” Ash reached down and puled me to my feet.
His hand was soft, the skin-on-skin contact flushing my cheeks.
We left Gertrude and her baby behind and walked back toward the meal tent. I knew this moment, however fleeting, would mean far more to me than to A
sh come tomorrow. Somehow, I was okay with that, as he held my hand for the thirty-plus paces without release, without making some stupid Ash joke, without giving off the slightest hint of regret. For the first time in weeks, I smiled.
:4:
In pursuit of education, share not the magnificence of your ideas. He is your enemy, your target. To engage in seasons of camaraderie will make you one of them: weak.
—Cailum Tridin, La Una (The One)
In a traveling circus, there’s no such thing as private quarters. I shared mine with Irwin and usualy Marlene, depending on if she and Ted were getting along. He snored too loud and smoked too much to keep bunkmates, even those of the wifely sort. And with the new residential arrangement, our ranks had sweled from around fifty to sixty performers and crew to over a hundred. Space had become a valuable commodity.
As I pushed the curtain back from my bunk, the aroma of fresh bacon and brewed coffee drifted through the tiny open windows, competing with the ever-present scent of animal dung and wet hay.
It smeled like home.
Irwin was hard at work on his latest literary find, fingers flying over the raised surface of the page. “Miz Gemma, good morrow.
How doth the sweet breath of morning find you?” Irwin tried to sound Shakespearean. It came out more like Yoda.
“The breath of morning needs mouthwash,” I said. “How’s the book?” I stepped into the bathroom without waiting for his answer.
The water on my face was a little too cold but did the trick. My eyes were open. I ran the brush through the length of my hair and puled some product in after it to calm the frizz. Now I just needed coffee. Monday. The big day. Welcome to the Viper Pit.
“When did you get up?” I reopened the door and picked up where I’d left off.
“Dunno. About four maybe?”
“Damn, Irwin, that’s nuts.” My eyes felt heavy again.
“I was hungry,” he said, rubbing his hands over the warped scars of his face. He used to wear a patch over the one eye the doctors were able to save; the total white where there was once a colored iris and black pupil frightened people. But he hated the patch, tugged at it al the time and had to put cream on the skin where the elastic strap rubbed against the rugged, healing graft. One day, I puled off the patch and threw it on the ground. He laughed and took me into the big top for cotton candy. That was the last day he wore it.
“I thought I’d come back inside and get a few more pages in before the day got going, see if Dr. Rieux has figured out his massive, tragic conundrum. It’s gonna end badly, I just know it,” he said, feeling around the tabletop for his tobacco box. “Hey, Auntie left you a note.” He pointed toward the fridge to a Post-It stuck to the front.
Marlene’s curly handwriting stretched across its 3x3 surface.
“Gems—dinner with the Dmitri$ tonight. Chores right after school.” Nice touch, Mar, adding a dolar sign in place of the “s.” Dinner with the new boss tonight—or as Marlene might say, the bo$$.
“A ful day of school and then dinner with some self-important ass who’l go on about al of his money while we pretend that we’re grateful to him for jamming a giant railroad spike into our backs?” I wished I’d gotten up early enough to go for a run.
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Irwin said. He paused long enough to stuff a wad of moist tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. He lit it and sucked in a few healthy puffs, releasing the smel of Black Cavendish into the tight quarters.
My stomach was uptight and twisty and I was in a pissy mood. I had zero interest in sitting through tonight’s dinner, smiling on cue, acting happy.
“You need food,” Irwin said. “Your stomach is growling.”
“Yeah, something like that.” I’d surrendered my chicken breast to the horseflies the night before, and dinner was little more than the ice cream cone Ash practicaly force-fed me. “You’ve got good ears, Irwin…scary good.”
“You know what they say. When God slams a door on your fingers, he opens a window so you can scream for help.” Uncle Irwin Cinzio, listed third in line on my guardianship paperwork. Sorta like being Prince Harry. Third on the list, not likely ever to be king. If something were to happen to Ted and Marlene, Irwin would be responsible for my wel-being. What a pair we’d make—a circus freak show unto ourselves.
“Are we doing anything special or extraordinary to get ready for His Royal Highness and entourage?” I said.
“Nope. Just show up, eat, and smile. Ted’s got a few of the walk-around performers to show off a bit.” He tapped the guts of his pipe into the ashtray. “You nervous about today, little one?”
“No,” I lied.
“You’re gonna be terrific, like you always are.”
“You’re biased.”
“Maybe, but I know you. You’re a good girl. Those kids are gonna be fighting over each other to be your friend.”
“Geeze, Irwin, you sound like Marlene.” I kicked off my jammies and puled on a pair of worn-in Levis and a black turtleneck sweater. No need for modesty in front of a blind man.
“That place is filed with Neanderthals.” The box in the corner caught my eye. It whispered. I reached for the bathrobe at the end of my bunk and covered it so I couldn’t see Delia’s name scratched across the top in bold black Sharpie. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Wel, if it makes you feel any better, you’l get an opportunity to hang out with one of the Neanderthals at dinner. Lucian Dmitri has a boy about your age. He’l be with Our Glorious Benefactor when they come by for chow. Heck, you might even see him at school today,” he said.
“Whatever. I just want to get through the day,” I said.
“I promise you wil survive this, Gemma. You might even have …
fun.”
“Ha.” I said, plopping onto my bed to tie my Converse. As I put on essence of makeup to hide the purple circles under my eyes, I mentaly reviewed my list of classes: pre-calculus, advanced placement literature, AP chemistry, photography, cooking, and philosophy. At the prior Friday’s registration frenzy, the guidance counselor, Ms. Spitzer, an overcaffeinated poster child for adult-onset attention deficit disorder, had deemed this load appropriate. I thought it was too much, considering I was only one class short of the graduation requirements. But Marlene insisted I be given a ful schedule, “to get the bona fide high school experience.” As if the first day of school weren’t enough, we were doing dinner with the money and his son, too? I was sure Herr Financier’s son was a punk—probably some rich spoiled brat who got everything he wanted with a wave of his hand. He’d take one look at us in our fifth-wheel-trailer homes and our bohemian lifestyles, and he’d be on his posh phone to the limo driver to launch a rescue mission before the savages sulied his leather loafers.
I grabbed my green Army-issue coat and backpack and gave Irwin a smooch on the cheek.
“Knock ’em dead, girlie,” he said. As I opened the trailer door to head out, an explosion kicked my heart into my throat. Fire eaters, a husband-and-wife duo new to our team, were hard at work in the courtyard. Scared the crap out of me.
I doubt any of my soon-to-be classmates were greeted with bals of flame or the acrid odor of burned accelerant before their morning Cheerios. Maybe I could stand in front of the blast and incinerate my way into oblivion. Anything to avoid what was coming straight at me in the halowed hals of Eaglefern HS.
:5:
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.
—Dr. Seuss
As Marlene made the left turn into the high school parking lot, we joined the lineup of other parents and students moving toward the front of the building. Access to student parking was another left turn, obvious by the skid marks on the concrete and the number of students congregated around tricked-out cars. It wasn’t even 8
o’clock yet, but the bass from the stereos vibrated our car windows. Up ahead, standing adjacent to an older set of buildings were three kids—
smal, medium, large—dressed in old-fashioned clothing. They were dirty, tired-looking beings. Like they were lost.
They watched the cars going past. The smalest clutched a weathered, stuffed rabbit in her left hand.
When Marlene puled the car up next to them, just before our go at the turnaround, they looked right at me, their faces gaunt, eyes sad.
“What are you looking at, Gems?”
Ah-ha. Shades. Marlene couldn’t see them.
“Nothing.”
I gave them a smal smile, but only the littlest girl smiled back.
The middle child gave the little one’s hand a slight tug and they turned to walk away, folowing the taler boy in the opposite direction of the school. They melted into the side of the old wooden building and disappeared. Maybe they’re here to wish me luck.
Marlene puled up, stuffed a twenty into my palm, and gave my cheek a quick squeeze. I climbed out but felt Marlene’s eyes on me. She only moved the car when another driver honked from behind.
As our circus group made its way to the office, we attracted the expected load of attention—stares, glares, gossip behind cupped hands into the ears of nosy friends, even a few whistles for the girls who had chosen attire comprised of more skin than cloth.
We were to wait in the attendance portion of the office and one by one, “buddies” materialized to escort the new students to their first classes. Junie and Ash were off within moments, folowed out of the door by five other buddy/new kid couplings. Eight minutes in, al of the Cinzio kids had been picked up. Except me.
When the first bel rang, it became obvious that my buddy had caled in sick.
The attendance lady, suitably adorned with a name badge that read “Mrs. Thyme,” noticed me standing alone, stil waiting.
“Can I help you, dear?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I was supposed to have been assigned a buddy to get me to my first class,” I said, feeling as awkward as I looked.
“Oh, dear, yes, that is a problem. What’s your name and grade?”
“Gemma Flannery. I’m a senior.”
Sleight: Book One of the AVRA-K Page 2