Celeste

by V. C. Andrews

  Noble wouldn't be fat at my age, especially not with all the activity and work. I shouldn't be fat. I told myself, but if I didn't finish the food Mommy put on my plate, she would make me sit there until I had. Once, she made me eat so much I threw up, and immediately afterward, she made me eat everything again and wait at the table until she was sure I wouldn't throw it up a second time.

  One of the worst things I could do was stop and look at myself in a mirror. To prevent that, she removed every mirror she could, even the full-length one in my bathroom. She told me spirits avoided mirrors, that not seeing their reflection made them unhappy, and everything in our world was to be designed to make our spiritual company comfortable. But in my heart I knew what bothered her was simply my unhappiness with my own appearance.

  "Stop worrying about looking too fat. Work harder, and you're muscles will get bigger, stronger," she told me. "Your father wasn't a vain man."

  I could almost see her thinking up ways to make me feel more like Noble would feel as I grew older. When I was fourteen, she decided I should have a dog.

  All boys on farms have dogs," she told me, and we went to Luzon, a bigger village about twenty miles south, to shop at a pet store. I had no idea what sort of dog I should have. but Mommy seemed to think a golden retriever made sense since we had so much land. The four-month-old puppy she chose was a male she decided we should name Cleo, because she said he had a face that reminded her of a lion. It seemed to me she wanted the dog far more than I did, but after we brought Cleo home, he became my sole

  responsibility and I was the one blamed for anything he did wrong, like digging holes in Mommy's herbal garden, terrifying the chickens, or leaving droppings too close to the house. She would threaten me with. "If you don't take better care of that animal. Noble. I'll give him away." She made it seem like I was the one who had wanted the dog more.

  I can't say I didn't grow attached to Cleo quickly. He took to following me everywhere, and by the time he was a year old, he had grown big enough to challenge any animal he saw, even a bobcat that had wandered down the old stone wall toward the pond. He got badly scratched. but Mommy didn't take him to a veterinarian. She treated his cuts herself, and they did heal quickly. She didn't blame me. We couldn't hold him down anyway. He loved charging through the woods, sniffing after every creature that burrowed or hid in the bush. Just watching him chase after wild rabbits was delightful. He never caught one, but he never stopped trying.

  As far as water went. Cleo behaved more like a fish. He couldn't look at the stream or the pond without charging into it seconds later. He would splash about, his tongue moving excitedly out of his mouth and his head wagging from side to side. He was a dog any boy would love. I thought, and I took to running with him at my heels or training him to fetch sticks and balls. I saw that Mommy derived great pleasure from watching us play, too.

  She pounced on me, however, whenever Cleo tracked in mud, and one day, when she discovered he had chewed on one of the old piano legs, she went into a rage and threatened to make both of us sleep in the barn. She worked on that piano leg like an experienced craftsman until she got it so it didn't look much different from what it had before Cleo had gotten his teeth around it.

  Maybe he just hates music. I thought to say, but Mommy wasn't in the mood for any sort of humor about her sacred furniture. Anyway, nothing could be further from the truth. Cleo loved music. He would lie at my feet and listen to the classical music Mommy played for us, his ears sometimes perking up at a high note and his head tilting slightly as if he had heard something very, very curious or strange.

  One day. when I heard him barking out front and walked out to see what it was. I looked out over the meadow in the direction he was looking at. but I saw nothing. He continued to bark and growl. I knelt beside him and kept my hand on his neck, feeling his growl nimble down to his stomach. His eyes were fixed in this one direction. I studied it and studied it and then came to the conclusion that perhaps he saw something spiritual and perhaps what he saw wasn't nice. Was that possible? I presented the idea to Mommy.

  She put down her needlepoint and thought long and hard. As always, she had a story from her ancestral past.

  "My great-uncle Herbert had a golden retriever exactly like Cleo. You know." she said. pausing. some animals can sense animal spirits and human spirits, too. They have a gift."

  She looked at Cleo.

  "I had a suspicion he might have that gift. When I looked into his eves that day in the pet shop. I sensed it. Anyway. Uncle Herbert's dog grew so attached to the spirit of his younger brother. Russell, that he would often go off for days at a time and be with him. Uncle Herbert said that when his dog. I think he called it .Kasey, returned from one of his spiritual visits, he would stay even closer to his side. He told me it was as if his brother's spirit had impressed Kasey, with how important loyalty is, and how important it was to watch over Herbert.

  When I see you and Cleo out there. I think he might have visited with your daddy's spirit, and perhaps that is why he was growling. He's here to protect you, and he saw something Daddy had warned him about," she added. and I looked at Cleo in a new light. He was staring up at me as if he had understood every word Mommy had spoken.

  "There is truly a link, a relationship among all beautiful and loving creatures in this world," Mommy said. "Never forget that. And that was why I was always chastising you for killing pretty butterflies or caterpillars. Noble," she added, wagging her finger at me.

  Then she leaned over to kiss me just the way she always did when she reprimanded Noble.

  Like Noble always did. I denied it. Mommy gave me that look, half critical, half loving and went back to her needlepoint.

  Three days later. Cleo was barking at something at the edge of the woods again.

  Only this time, it was definitely not any sort of spirit, good or evil.

  It was a slim, tall boy in a pair of jeans, an oversize dark blue T-shirt, and a pair of dark brown hiking boots with the laces undone. At first he looked like he had a patch of strawberries growing on his head, his hair was so red. It streamed down the sides of his head, over his ears, until it nearly touched his shoulders. He stood so still beside an old oak tree that he seemed to be part of the forest, something unusual that had just grown there.

  It made my heart pitter-patter. I knitted my eyebrows and stared back at him.

  Cleo barked harder and started to run toward him. The boy didn't cower. He clapped his hands and called to Cleo as I followed. Cleo's tail began to wave when he reached him, and the boy knelt to pet him. He looked up as I drew closer.

  "Hey, how you doing?" he asked.

  "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" I demanded.

  Mommy's distrust of strangers on our land had become my attitude as well. I rarely answered the postman when he said good morning or waved back at any delivery man if he waved to me.

  "That's a nice way to greet your new neighbor," he said, continuing to pet Cleo, who sat contentedly, his tongue out, his eves on me. Later I would tell Mommy that Cleo trusted him, and that was the reason I didn't just ask him to leave our property and stop talking to him.

  "New neighbor? What do you mean?"

  "My dad bought Mr. Baer's property," he said. "We moved in yesterday. You people didn't know?"

  "We people don't butt into other people's business." I said sharply. "Or walk around on other people's land. either."

  He continued to pet Cleo and look up at me, ignoring my tone.

  "Nice dog," he said. "I had to give mine up before we moved."

  "Why?"

  "Something wrong with her hip. She was a beautiful Labrador,"

  "So where did you leave her?"

  With the vet." He stood up and looked away. "He put her down." He turned back to me. "Put her to sleep for good, I didn't want to hang around and watch it. so I left her. How long have you lived here?"

  "All my life. This is our family propeity, and it has No Trespassing' sins everywhere," I s
aid with heavy emphasis on the "no,"

  He nodded.

  "Yeah. I saw. What, do you get a lot of hunters marching through or something?"

  "No. Most people don't disobey the signs."

  "How old are you?" he asked, still ignoring my attitude toward him. Was he stupid or just stubborn? I wondered.

  "Why?"

  "Just asking to see if we'll be in the same class this September." he said with a shrug. "You go to the public school, don't you?"

  "No. As a matter of fact, if you have to know, I don't attend public school"

  "Oh, a parochial school?"

  "No."

  "What then, some ritzy private school?" he asked. grimacing.

  "You're looking at it," I said, nodding back at the house.

  "Huh?" He looked over my shoulder as if he thought he did miss something, "That's your house. right?"

  "Yes. My mother is a teacher. I'm in home school.''

  "Home school?" He twisted his nose.

  I had always avoided looking too long or directly at anyone because I didn't want to invite them to do the same to me. but I couldn't help but study his face closer. He had turquoise eyes, striking, under very light eyebrows. Down his cheeks were sprinkled very tiny freckles. His mouth was firm, strong with very bright full lips, and there was a slight cleft in his chin, more like a dimple, as if his Maker had just tapped the tip of His finger there while he was being molded.

  "Yes, home school. I do better than I would at public school where they spend less and less time on real education," I said, reciting one of Mommy's mantras about the state of education in America. "I'm tested yearly, and I always score in the top three percentile."

  "No kidding?Im lucky to pass. especially English. I'm not too bad at math and usually do all right in science. I hate social studies. Boring," he sang.

  "Nat for me," I said.

  "Maybe I oughta join your mother's home school," he said. "You can't join it. Its just for me."

  "Oh." He nodded. "Sure." Then he smiled in confusion. "Just for you? I don't get it."

  "My mother is a professional teacher, and she tutors me in every subject. What's so hard to understand?"

  He shrugged.

  "You're just the first person I met doing that at so old an age, that's all."

  "Well, now you know someone." I said.

  He shrugged and looked around. I wasn't chasing him off. That was for sure.

  "You stay here all day?"

  "Yes, I do. So?"

  "How do you make friends?"

  "I don't." I said. "For now," I added.

  He kept petting Cleo and nodding as if everything I said made absolute sense.

  Then he practically leaped at me, his hand out. "I'm Elliot Fletcher."

  I looked at his hand.

  "I don't bite," he said.

  I shook it quickly.

  "My name is Noble Atwell."

  "Wow. What do you do, rub sandpaper on your palms?" he asked, turning my hand around m' his. "Those calluses feel like rocks ."

  I pulled my hand away from his quickly. "I do all the outdoor stuff," I said proudly.

  "Like what?"

  "Like chop wood, cut brass, plant, take care of our chickens, look after things."

  "Yeah. my father was talking about me taking on house chores now, to earn gas for my car when he gives in and buys me one this year after I get my license. We lived in a town house in Jersey. No lawns to cut, and especially no firewood. Man, this is like a real farm, huh?" he said looking at our property. "That's cornstalks?"

  "Yes." I said. "Its delicious. We pick it off the stalk and cook it the same day,"

  "I bet you hunt, too, huh?" he asked me.

  "No."

  "Fish?"

  I looked away, deciding whether I should just chase him off, walk away myself. or what. I thought I saw Mommy come around the rear of the house, and for a moment that made me freeze, but it was just the shadow of a cloud.

  "Sometimes," I said.

  "I was wondering what was in that creek. It looks pretty deep in spots."

  "When we have heavy rains in the spring, there are sections that would be over both our heads."

  "It looked like it. I took an exploratory walk around soon after we moved into the house yesterday. Dad was mad, of course. He wanted me to help with the move-in. but I got bored with unpacking and told him and my sister I was taking a walk whether they liked it or not. I left before either could complain," he added with a smile.

  His smile was nice because it started around his eyes and seemed to trickle down to the corner of his mouth, sort of rumble through his cheeks.

  "How old is your sister?"

  "She's nearly eighteen and a pain, especially for my father."

  "Why?"

  "She just is, and she's always trying to get out of doing her share of things. That's why I was happy to leave her unpacking the kitchen stuff. I worked this morning and then snuck out again to look around. I saw your fort," he added, nodding in its direction.

  "I built that a long time ago," I said. "I don't play in forts anymore."

  "So how old are you?"

  "I'm fifteen, if you just have to know," I said belligerently.

  "I'd be a year ahead of you at school. As I said. Im getting my driver's license this year and the car. Dad used that as a bribe to get me to agree to move to the boondocks."

  "Boondocks?"

  "Woods, country, whatever you call it out here. We moved from Paramus, New Jersey. My dad had his own pharmacy there, but the business went to pot when one of the chains moved right on top of him. Can't beat,,em, join,,em. Dad says. He's working at Rite Aid in Monticello now. Says its better to be an employee than an owner anyway."

  "How come you talk only about your father? What about your mother?"

  "She died a long time ago," he said quickly.

  "Oh."

  "What's your father do?"

  "He died a long time ago. too," I said.

  He nodded. He had a peculiar look on his face.

  "What?"

  Actually, I knew that," he said. "I knew your name. too. We heard all about you and your mother and the terrible thing that happened to your sister. If s why we got the house so cheap. No one wanted to buy it from that old guy and live next to you people. At least that's what Dad says," he added.

  "Good for you. Now let off our land," I snapped and turned to walk away.

  "Hey, take it easy. I didn't say I had funny ideas about you. That's why I came over to meet you."

  "Cleo," I called because he remained sitting in front of Elliot.

  "Come on. Don't be so sensitive," he added. "You're acting like a pussy."

  I spun around.

  "I'm not sensitive, and I'm no pussy. Don't call me that."

  "Just trying to get you to calm down," he said. shrugging.

  He did look harmless and friendly, but his mentioning our tragedy put trembles into me.

  "I know what the stupid people around here think of me and my mother. I don't need to be reminded." I said.

  "Sure. I won't say another word about it," he said, raising both his hands.

  "I don't care if you do or not." I said and kept walking back toward the house. Cleo followed, but looked back periodically. "Forget about him. Cleo," I muttered. He looked up at me and walked alongside,

  "Maybe they're right about you!" I heard Elliot scream. I didn't turn around.

  My heart was still pounding after I went into the house. I could hear Mommy moving around in the kitchen, Should I just go in and tell her about him? I wondered. I'd better, I thought. She would find out and she would want to know why I didn't tell her. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other. ever. I reminded myself.

  "What is it?" Mommy said when I appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  "We have new neighbors. I just met the son."

  "What?" She wiped her hands on the cloth and turned from her chicken stuffing. "What son?"

  I described him to her
and all he had told me. I practically did it without taking a breath.

  "I saw the sign out front of the Baer house. but I never imagined anyone would buy it so fast," she said. He must have sold it very cheap."

  I told her how Cleo had taken to Elliot.

  "Don't get too friendly," she advised. "Sometimes people try to get you to be friends and talk to them just so they can make up stories about you. Be careful," she added. "I didn't think that house would sell so fast," she repeated, as if she had been assured of it.

  I nodded. and Cleo and I left her looking like she was in deep thought. I was, too. I sat in my room with Cleo at the foot of my bed. I felt torn. I didn't want to drive Elliot away, but I couldn't help myself. Cleo looked disappointed that I had done that. Every time I moved, he lifted his head in anticipation, probably thinking we were going to get back out there and talk to that boy again.

  "You heard Mommy," I said. "He's just trying to dig up stories to tell about us."

  Still. I couldn't help being intrigued. We finally had real neighbors. I was never interested in knowing or seeing Mr. Baer. He looked like a grouchy old man whenever I did set eyes on him. It didn't surprise me that people would have suspected him of doing something terrible to one of us.

  But Elliot, his sister, and his father were different. They were another family. At the moment I was actu-11y more interested in knowing about his sister. What was she like? How did she dress? What music did she listen to? What books and magazines did she read? Learning anything about her was intriguing.

  Worst of all, my meeting Elliot and hearing about his family suddenly heightened my loneliness. My room looked like a prison cell, the walls bare now except for the toy cars on the shelves and some of the bug cages. The flow of thick, gray clouds streaming in from the east quickly shut down the little sunshine in the room. Dreary was a good word for how I felt. I thought.

  Unable to stop myself, I rose and headed downstairs.

  Cleo close at my heels. Mommy was still in the kitchen. but she heard me and called to ask what I was doing.