“Nuff said,” he wrote.
The chat box sat idle for one minute, then two. I watched the clock in the top corner of my screen. The suspense was kiling me.
“Are u writing???” Henry’s message popped, ending the two-minute-thirty stalemate.
“Yeah.” I fibbed. “Crafting genius over here. U have lines on the page yet?”
“Searching the hard drive for an appropriate essay to recycle.”
“An environmentaly friendly writer, u r…”
“I do what I can :).”
The inbox icon flashed with a new message.
“Look at the one I just sent u.”
“K. Stand by…” I clicked on the attachment but instead of a Word document, the preview screen opened to show a photograph of a much-younger Henry dressed as a clown, complete with face paint, the roomy polka-dot costume, and red foam nose. I was cracking up when the trailer door opened and Irwin ambled his way up the stairs. I hit the mute button on my keyboard so he wouldn’t hear the pop of the instant messages.
“What’s so funny?” Irwin said as he walked toward the front to his bunk. He plunked down on the bed, rocking the trailer, and proceeded to try to remove his work boots without losing his balance. “How’s the homework coming along, kiddo?”
“It’s going…sort of…trying to write an essay.”
“You need music,” he said. He shuffled to the stack of CDs on the shelf next to the kitchen pantry door, selected one, and held it out so I could read the artist.
“Mozart.”
“Just where I left it,” he said. Irwin’s sole request of me was that I organize his CDs in stacks of ten, the stacks lined up side by side, alphabetized by last name. I would then read the titles from the CD
case spines and he would commit the stacks to memory. It was incredible to watch him find Bach, Beethoven, Haydn, Puccini, Rachmaninoff, Strauss, Verdi, Vivaldi, or Wagner, without missing a beat.
My screen blinked with another message alert from Henry.
“Did u see it?” The picture.
“ADORABLE! Is that u???” I replied.
“Yeah. Think Ted is hiring? I’ve stil got the outfit.” I stifled a giggle, not eager to arouse Irwin’s too-keen senses. I swear that he could hear the blood rush into my cheeks when I blushed.
“What are you giggling about over there, girlie?”
“Nothing…some dumb thing Junie sent me via email,” I said.
Irwin disappeared into the bathroom for his shower, and I was glad he wasn’t nosy. Marlene, on the other hand, was. I knew my chat would come to a crushing finale once she turned in for the night.
She’d stand over my shoulder and read every word, mostly due to an insatiable curiosity that came from a total lack of technological competence. She’d love the concept of instant messaging and long-distance chatting, carried out in real time. Like magic! I was confident that if Ted ever did file for divorce, Marlene would learn about the Internet, and online dating services, before the ink had dried on the judge’s signature.
“U stil there?” Henry typed.
“Yes, sorry. Irwin just came in to get ready 4 bed.”
“U in trouble? I’m keeping u from ur homework.”
“It’s cool. I’m a big girl…”
“Not realy. You’re sort of on the short side, if you ask me. And you need to eat more. Perfectly good banana gave its life for you today.”
“Scuse me? I’m not short. Ur just freakishly tal. Freak. Forget about the clown thing. Join the circus FREAK SHOW!” I wrote.
This was way too much fun.
“I thought u guys were PC. Do u even have that anymore? Do u have a hairy-faced baby or a guy with 6 arms?”
“No. Just Junie. She’s our freak show.”
“Ooooooh, meanie. I won’t tel her u said that.”
“So—did u find an essay to use yet, Mr. Reduce-Reuse-Recycle?”
“Yeah. Found one from sophomore year that’l work. You wanna be luled to sleep?”
“Send it. And if it doesn’t suck, I’l put in a good word for u with Ted about joining the sideshow lineup.”
“Touché,” he wrote. “And u have to finish yours, young lady, so I’l leave u alone. Besides, your aunt is coming. Quick! Look busy!” As the message appeared on my screen, the trailer door again opened. It was Marlene.
Stunned. That was my immediate reaction. The hairs on my neck tingled.
“How’d u know she was RIGHT there?” I typed. The chat box flashed a notification: Henry D is offline. Click here to send as a message. I clicked the box closed.
“Did I startle you?” she said. I smiled and shook my head no.
Marlene tapped at the thermostat with her long red fingernail. “You warm enough in here, Gemma? Uh-oh, is the homework hard? The look on your face…” She leaned over and kissed my forehead.
“Um, no…it’s good. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Marlene sat across from me at the smal kitchenette table. I was stil dumbfounded that Henry had known she was coming.
“Kiddo, I’m very proud of you for being so strong and grown-up about al of this. I can imagine it’s hard, but you’re realy handling everything wel. So mature. My girl is just getting to be such a young woman,” she said, her hand tapping the top of mine.
She looked as though she might burst into tears.
“Wel, as much as I hate to admit it, school wasn’t that bad,” I said.
“I’d say by the looks of things, you and that Henry are going to be fast friends, don’t you think? He’s such a nice boy,” she said.
“I wouldn’t say he’s my friend, Marlene. And as Lucian Dmitri’s son, he probably just feels obligated to be nice to me,” I said.
“Besides, he showed up late for school and the guidance counselor kinda forced him into being my buddy. Said she’d excuse the tardy.
It was no more than a business deal for him.”
“Wel, I doubt that, but I honestly expected you to come home very upset with me and Uncle Ted. Thank you, Gemma, thank you…,” she said. Her voice trailed off as she plucked a tissue from the sleeve of her blouse.
I rose from the table, sensing she could use a hug. It was only because I’d had a good day, that I hadn’t been shoved in a locker or one of the other horrible things they do to new kids (yes, I watch too many movies) that I was at al wiling to let darling Aunt Marlene out of the doghouse.
“Don’t get overconfident, Auntie,” I teased, “tomorrow’s another day. There’s stil plenty of time for me to throw a rager of a temper tantrum.” She gave my cheek a quick nudge and then wrapped her arms around me. She was a mix of perfume, hairspray, and Ted’s cigarettes.
We hugged for a moment, and when she let go, I decided to pul my laptop and books from the table and retire to my bunk where I could pul the curtain and have a sweet slice of privacy.
“Auntie, speaking of tomorrow,” I said, toeing the box from New Horizons, “could you move this for me? Anywhere. Just not in here?”
Marlene frowned. “You don’t want to open it, honey?”
“No. It sorta talks to me at night. I want it out. I can’t go through it. Not yet,” I said, looking down. “Maybe someday.” Marlene nodded and gave me an empathetic smile.
During the interim while I moved my stuff and got situated on my bunk, another email had arrived from Henry, this one with a document attached. I opened it and began reading.
Henry Delacroix Dmitri, age 16.5 19. Sophomore Senior, Eaglefern HS. Son of the late Alicia Eléne Delacroix and the very much alive Lucian Marku Dmitri. Height: taler than the average bear. Weight: not enough if you ask the nanny.
Siblings: none (that I’m aware of). Pets: a betta fish named Kurosawa. Favorite music: anything that makes my father grit his teeth. Career aspirations: undecided, though I hear Dumbledore dies in the sixth book, and his job has some cool perks. Favorite vacation spot: any place that isn’t here.
Earliest memory: talking to my mother. Closest friend: position st
il vacant but his/her name wil start with the letter G. Biggest fear: dying young. Personal accomplishments: Taught myself to play Blackbird on the guitar. One thing I’m sure about: The sun wil rise, and set, tomorrow. Favorite author/book: Stephen King, Bag of Bones. One famous person I believe is a fake: Wiliam Shakespeare. My hope for the future: Man wil learn how to fly without the use of airplanes or Richard Branson. My biggest regret: Tearing the tag off my mattress when I was eight and my dad having to pay off the FBI agents who knocked on our door twenty minutes later.
After reading what was nothing more than a biographical sketch, an essay in list form, I had a very clear sense (and knotted stomach muscles from laughing) of who Henry Dmitri was, though I was wary. How much of what he said was rooted in some soil of truth?
It was damn funny, sure, but I suspected that Henry was a private guy who didn’t share much. And his relationship with his father seemed uncomfortable, just based on the few answers in which he was mentioned. Then again, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to get a weird vibe from Lucian Dmitri. The guy creeped me out in a big way.
I was compeled to email Henry and ask him how he managed to get away with turning this in as an essay. And how close to fact was this? Was his mother realy dead? I couldn’t remember Ted ever mentioning if Lucian was married. Or divorced. Henry had a nanny?
Stil? And why didn’t he have a close friend? The most pressing question—how did he know he’d have a close friend in the future whose name started with the letter G? As amused as I was by his sily catalog of personal trivia, I couldn’t help but feel played. Why the letter G? Had he edited that part to make me feel good, hinting that he wanted me to become his friend? Or had the meat of the document been left unaltered, in its original state from its creation two years prior?
What I did glean from Henry’s “essay” was that he was a kidder with a rebelious streak. And he hated Shakespeare, my number-two, al-time idol behind Niccolò Paganini, arguably the best violinist who ever lived. (I recognize that admitting this makes me the biggest nerd on the planet.) Henry’s hateful denial of Shakespeare’s genius could be the nail in the coffin of our infant friendship. Best friends with a hater? Even if my name does start with the letter G. I needed to spend more time with him to make an educated decision.
Staling on my own paper for a few more minutes, I set to work combing the Web for arguments in support of the Bard’s authenticity. No one caled Wil Shakespeare a fraud on my watch and got away with it.
:9:
Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
—Wiliam Shakespeare
The alarm of my bedside clock enmeshed itself with my dream, and I woke up annoyed that no one was answering the damn phone. 7:02 am. My last glimpse of the clock had been less than five hours ago at 2:12 am, just as I was wrapping up the conclusion on the lit essay. Good thing I had loads of adrenaline and access to an unlimited supply of caffeine.
At breakfast, Junie was in rare form. I regretted coming into the tent as soon as I sat down with my oatmeal.
“I wonder if Henry wil extend his buddy duties into today,” she chirped. I flashed her a shut-your-face-or-die look. The table was ful of the usual suspects—Ted, Marlene, Irwin, a sulen Ash—and I didn’t want anyone to read more into this than what it was. Henry had made a deal with the attendance lady; he served as my buddy for Monday. Tuesday was a new buddy-less day. End of story.
“Not likely,” I said.
Junie ignored my visual subtext and wrinkled her face in defiance. “I’m just saying…’cuz Henry sat with you at the assembly and stuff, something none of the other buddies did. Even you have to admit that was sweet, Gems!” I kicked her under the table, but she just flinched and smiled wider. “And he sure perked up last night when you finaly came out of the kitchen.”
“Junie, please, it’s too early for this.”
“Gemma,” she beamed, “I saw the way he looked at you.” Junie’s running on at the mouth was pissing me off, but a smal part of me wanted to believe that what she said was true. Did Henry look at me in some extraordinary manner, or did he just feel sorry for the new friendless girl who couldn’t control her face from advertising her emotions?
“Oh my God, he’s nice and good looking. His smile sorta takes the strength outta your knees when you first see it,” Junie gushed.
“Oh, and rich, too. Rich is good.”
This last statement was the limit for Ash’s tolerance. He slammed his fork onto his plate, the clash of stainless steel on porcelain drawing the table’s attention to him.
“Junie, you’re making me gag,” he said, teeth clenched. “If you’l excuse me.” He rose from the table and pitched his plate into the dirty bin.
“Wow, somebody’s jealous,” Junie murmured as her twin sulked out of the tent. “My new friend Kayla said that Henry is Eaglefern’s most eligible bachelor and that he doesn’t—”
“Gemma.” Ted’s voice was sharp. It was the first thing he’d said to me today and he’d interrupted Junie to do it.
I was looking down at my bowl and felt his eyes boring in the top of my head. I knew what was coming.
“Henry Dmitri is a fine boy, but his father is our new boss. You be careful with this one,” Ted said.
“Sheesh, Ted, she’s only had lunch at school with him. It’s not like they’re planning their wedding,” Marlene said, crumpling her napkin and dropping it on her plate. “And you saw him last night.
He’s an upstanding kid, and so polite. It wil be good for Gemma to get to know a boy other than Ash—no offense, Junie.”
“None taken. Oh, and Henry’s cute,” Junie said. I kicked her again.
“Yes, and he’s cute,” Marlene said to her. The two of them giggled like first graders.
“Wel, it sounds like day one was successful, Miss Gemma,” Irwin said, breaking the weird tension among the three of them. I looked at the others seated around the table and saw that not only had Ted put his fork down but he was staring right at me, his face white as a sheet. I felt like I’d done something wrong.
The table grew quiet. Marlene fumbled with the paper from her muffin. Ted stood and walked away from the table without bothering to clear his plate.
“Did I say something wrong?” Junie said.
No one answered her; only Marlene offered a polite curl of her mouth and a shake of her head in reassurance.
With the sudden shift in the ambience at our table, I’d lost my appetite. Again. Seemed to be happening a lot lately. We needed to leave for school, anyway, so I excused myself to go to the trailer to grab my junk. As I walked away, I heard Marlene and Junie resume their conversation, though with less zest than before. I dropped my plate, and Ted’s, into the wash bin and meandered out of the tent.
You be careful with this one. Yeah, Ted. No problemo.
:10:
Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.
—Aristotle
I had Marlene drop me off ten minutes early so I could avoid walking through the thick crowd out front of the school. It was too much to put on a brave face and strol past the gossip mongers. I didn’t care what they were saying. These people didn’t know anything about me. But the discomfort was real, and I wasn’t ready for it this morning. It was reassuring to see the three shade kids by the old part of the school again—weird, as this was their second appearance—but at least they seemed friendly. Dead, but friendly.
I walked straight to my locker, glad I’d remembered how to find it. Henry was nowhere to be seen, though I don’t know why I thought he would be. His job was done. In a shining moment of forethought on the way to school, I’d used a Sharpie to jot down the three-digit combination on one of my fingers. Just in case. It took three attempts, but I conquered the dial and managed to get the locker open. It must’ve been nerves getting to me—under ordinary circumstances, I was a skiled lock-pick, and though combination locks weren’t my specialty, I could totaly do it, given the time and the tools. Doors and safes
were more my speed.
Useful skils a girl picks up hanging around a circus.
As the locker door swung open, a folded piece of paper dropped to the floor. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then unfolded it—a copy of my essay that I’d emailed to Henry just after 2 am, with a handwritten note scrawled across the bottom: “Perkins wil eat this up. Nice! —HD.” I smiled.
Not a bad way to start my second day in the trenches.
Mr. Poole scraped his floppy brown loafers against the tile as he handed out study guides for the pre-calc midterm, scheduled six weeks from today. When he noticed me at the door, he pointed to a desk he had brought in from another room and wedged between two others in the last row. Before I could start toward the seat, he gestured for me to come talk to him.
“In speaking with Ms. Spitzer, I understand much of what we’re doing might be review for you. If you find it too easy or boring, just let me know and we can see about moving you to a higher-level course,” he said. He was sweaty and the light from the overhead fixtures shined off his bald forehead, creating quite the distraction.
That, coupled with a prevalent tic in his left eye, made looking directly at him a hard thing to do. I felt my own eye start to twitch.
I thanked him for his concern and took my seat as other students wandered into the class, gathering in smal groups around a few select desks until the bel rang. Henry slid in at the very last second, just before Mr. Poole clicked the door closed and locked it from the inside.
“Cutting it close, Mr. Dmitri,” Poole said. Henry nodded and made eye contact with me before taking his seat. He offered a smal wave helo. I waved back, my cheeks alight in their first flush of the day.
The girl seated next to me, who looked as though she were dressed for a catwalk rather than a classroom, leaned over. “Looks like somebody’s in love,” she sniped.
Mr. Poole carried on with his lecture, providing examples of tangent and cotangent functions on the dry erase board. I noticed my friendly neighbor was busy practicing her signature on a piece of notebook paper rather than copying Poole’s formulas. Becca Bristol, it said, heavy with flourishes and kindergarten-style flowers and baloons. The simple act of writing her name told me al I needed to know about Becca Bristol: we would not become pals.
Sleight: Book One of the AVRA-K Page 6