Heart Murmurs (20 page)

 

The Perfect Boy

 

“How did you do that?” Morgan's face, still black and white, stares at me in the eerie black light of the tunnel.

“Do what?”

“You altered matter out of the tunnel, Mia. I've never seen anyone do that before.”

I shrug. “I don't know. I felt the same odd burning and freezing sensation as I did in the tunnels, and my hands responded. It was like trying to channel a flow of water.”

Morgan looks thoughtful. “Perhaps it was because the entrance was so close. The way Poe moved the trapdoor — I believe he was working on altering matter outside the tunnels. In his quest to reanimate his wife.”

“Do you think it will be okay now? Will the Literati forgive Beth and let us be together?”

“I hope so.” But I don't like the way his mouth is pressed into a tight, white line; like he's filled with doubt.

The tunnel changes and the scene shifts with every mile we walk — each section of tunnel is connected to a Literati's mind.

So it reflects their writing, their voice. Their mind's eye.

My eyes rove over the tunnel, trying to drink it all in as it takes my breath away. Our feet are hidden in a sea of flowers, resulting in an optical illusion of floating.

Real flowers, not the cranky, creepy laughing ones.

The field's smattering of species reinforces its imaginary state; flowers normally blooming in spring mix with late-fall crops.

Dark maroon and yellow chrysanthemums mix with bright pink flox, which drips down the stalactites like a blooming wallpaper.

I consider the clues, one by one.

The facts are shifting, falling into place like one massive mental puzzle.

“I guess I knew this was coming…”

His eyes sharpen and tighten. “How so?”

My throat tightens in recollection. “Awhile ago — I saw the L on my manuscript pages. I thought it was a computer glitch, as it didn't show up on the computer screen, but when I printed it out… it showed up on every single page.”

Morgan shivers. “You are a Literati. A powerful one. Mia, you have Madelon's heart — also a Literati — who knows—”

“What she's capable of.” Blue Jeans cuts across him. He's standing at the end of the tunnel, waiting for us. His smile is genuine, but his eyes look ancient and sad.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “May we be seen now?”

“Yes. Well done, Mia. A guard of couriers has been dispatched to bring Mr. Poe in for trial. We are impressed with the way you completed the mission.”

“You mean how she survived the mission.” Morgan's voice is mercurial.

Blue Jeans laughs and claps him on the back. “Ah, Mr. Kelly — you never mince words. I rather like it.”

He steps out of the flowers, oozing into the solid tunnel wall.

I step to follow him.

Morgan grasps my hand, hard, and twirls me around to face him.

“Mia — I don't know what they'll say. But I cannot abide by any ruling that keeps us apart. I will rebel. I'm just telling you, my days of following the rules, everyone else's…”

I step into his embrace, pressing my lips against his tight, frantic ones. His hands slide around my back and press my body to him in desperation.

I pull back, breaking the kiss to look at him. “I'm not afraid, Morgan. For the first time in my life. Nothing they say can hurt me. I've almost died, thought I'd lost you…”

His face is anguished as his nostrils flare, but his eyes drop as he waits for me to finish.

“Gone against my parents' wishes, and felt the sting of death… even though it wasn't my own. I'm not afraid of them. I know who I am, now.”

Blue Jeans' head pops through the solid stone. “Good. Perhaps you could bring this newly confident person in to complete the mission? We'd all like to go back to our times…”

Morgan and I clasp hands, and I feel his chest hitch with anxiety where our sides are touching.

The same three Literati await us, perched again on the mahogany chairs.

I wait, following Morgan's lead. Georgian Toady no longer seems bored. His beady black eyes raptly evaluate my every twitch. I am suddenly worthy of his attention. For a split second I recognize him, but the words are yanked from my mind and lips as if an invisible omniscient wind has sucked out my breath.

Oleander's face is twisted in a combination of awe and jealousy. It reminds me a little too much of Apple's for comfort. I shift nervously.

Blue Jeans takes control. “Mia. We are very impressed and dually pleased with your handling of Mr. Poe. The council is prepared to hear your pleas.”

Morgan begins. “Please, I entreat the council to forgive my sister, Beth Alcott. She's served the court well, for years — and is ready to pass the responsibility to another. I ask to take her place.”

Oleander guffaws. “You? Mr. Kelly, I am not sure you are ready. Your writing? At best you're a literary fledgling, not an eagle. Your D.N.A. is not suited to take your sister's position.”

Morgan stiffens. “I am very intelligent — surely your records tell you that much”

Blue Jeans looks angry for the first time. “Intelligence has naught to do with it. NASA is full of intelligence, but not one of them could wield the tunnels. It's the imagination, Mr. Kelly. You see?”

I step forward, my opportunity to protect Morgan for once. “I have the imagination. Let me step in for Beth.”

All three sets of eyes hone in and scrutinize me.

“Do you really understand that responsibility?” Oleander asks. She isn't condescending this time; she actually sounds sincere.

Blue Jeans adds, “You will have to go up against your parents — forget the Ivy League college they're so keen on — you will essentially be a slave for others.”

“You will be stuck in time. Aging by degrees,” Georgian Toady interjects. “I am not sure you have the fortitude — despite your obvious talents.”

“I can do this.” And I feel it. I can. But I won't without Morgan.

“I have a condition. Morgan and I love each other. We want to be together, despite our class differences.”

“Who are you to make such demands?” Oleander shrieks. Her face is instantly purple, the veins in her forehead bulging.

Rage flares my nostrils. I raise my hand, and it explodes in sparks and a shower of dripping colored flames.

“I defeated Poe. None of you could. You obviously needed me, or you would've sent another of your minions. I will make the conditions.” My voice echoes through the chamber, amplified like thunder. It raises the hair on my arms, and I try to hide them. “I altered matter. Outside the tunnel. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

My teeth chatter and I clamp them together.

Blue Jeans shoots a furtive glance at the others. “No, that will not be necessary.”

“You are the most powerful Literati we've ever witnessed. And we both know why. Your own skills, and the D.N.A. in that heart,” Blue Jeans retorts.

Thump-thump-thump-thump. It speeds up, as if called.

“There was evidence before the transplant, though, Blue Jeans.” Georgian Toady's bushy eyebrows have risen like two dueling, hairy, white caterpillars.

I suddenly feel cold, as if an icy finger stroked my spine. There is one more issue without an answer.

Morgan steps closer to me. He doesn't know either, I can see it in his eyes.

Oleander stands. “There's a problem besides the class issue, with Mr. Kelly.”

“What?” Panic pierces my heart. I picture a javelin piercing through my chest, pinning it to the ground behind me. “What's wrong with Morgan?”

Oleander smiles. It's bitter and mischievous, like the Cheshire Cat. “You know, Mia.”

“Because he's black and white in the tunnels.” My voice cracks on the last word. “What does that mean?”

Morgan's hand is on my back. It's shaking.

Blue Jeans steps off the podium. “You've been being monitored since you picked up your first pen. Remember… you were only eight.”

I remember my mom's gift. A beautiful journal, with raised, iridescent floral patterns on it cover.

I wrote about my perfect boy.

“He will be strong and true,” Oleander whispers.

“He will be brave,” says Georgian Toady.

“He will love me, like no one has ever, ever loved me. Or will ever love again,” Blue Jeans finishes.

My head swirls.

“What are you saying?” Morgan's voice, hollow behind me.

Blue Jeans strides to him, putting both hands on his shoulders. He eases him into an oversized velveteen chair.

“She wrote me into being?” Morgan again.

“No… but even that small, scared little girl… had great literary power. Her wishes, her words, time-slipped, affecting history. Little Women was in her mind so much, it was inevitable.”

I shake my head. My stomach leaps and plummets like I've been cast down a well. “I don't understand! Stop speaking in riddles!”

“Your words influenced Bronson Alcott. Steered him toward Morgan's mother. Their D.N.A. called to one another — to produce the person you were craving, trying to create.”

I shake my head. Ill. “I. Was. Eight!”

“Yes, well. Words, in the hand of a master, have the power to alter time. ”

I consider that. Of how Louisa's words, in Little Women, did a time slip of their own. Altering my thinking, my reality. I swallow. Only mine actually alter time and consequences.

Morgan's face is ashen.

I stutter. “So... w-what am I? You're saying I'm some literary puppet-master and he's my marionette?”

“Something like that. This has never happened before. We've named him, like any new species. A Circa-Soul. Almost, but not quite human. As his conception was tampered with — against natural forces.”

Morgan's hands are stroking his face, covering his eyes.

Blue Jeans' eyes soften. “There might be a way.”

Our heads snap up in unison.

I step toward him. Morgan shoots to standing.

“To what?”

All three Literati respond together. “To change his state.”

“How? I will do anything.” Tears are welling now. Morgan crosses to me, wrapping his arms around me protectively.

“I, as well.”

“Perhaps then… you will consider another Literati mission? We have more problems that need to be sorted on the court.”

“This is blackmail.”

“Permit me one cliché. All's fair… in love and war. And this is literary war.”

“We need one another, Mr. Kelly. We will grant you… some time together. Perhaps till Mia has graduated. Even if she is powerful, you two cannot stand alone. ” Blue Jeans rises.

I don't want to wait.

“Tell us. I beg you.”

My heart thrums, a different beat.

It sounds to my ears like, tell-me, tell-me.

Blue Jeans smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

 

 

We enter our tunnel. It's bare. Just like a normal tunnel. No more laughing flowers or black light.

Morgan and I haven't spoken in an hour. We reach the ladder and trapdoor, and his black and white eyes search mine.

Tears well over and streak down my cheeks. “I don't care. You are who or what you are… no matter what they say. I… I love you.”

He gives me a closed-lip smile. “I still feel the same as I always have. Like me. I've always known who I was — from a very small boy.” He hugs me to him, lightly peppering my cheeks, wetting his lips with my tears. “Let's be positive. We have the rest of your senior year to sort it out. ” He smiles crookedly. “I have many plans. I haven't taken you for a sleigh ride yet. You will love it.” His eyes all but sparkle.

I laugh, and smile back. “I'm sure I will.” His face turns and goes mock-serious. “And I have much to practice. I must become a conductor of the search engine.”

I laugh so hard, tears well in my eyes.

“Mia, look at your forearm.”

The outline of a reddish butterfly is forming, darkening on my skin.

The ladder looms ahead, illuminated in the black light.

Our eyes lock.

“Together?” he asks.

I nod. “Together.”

He gently helps me start up the ladder. To start my all-new life.

Madelon's heart thrums, and we're in sync in mind and body. I am a better person because of her sacrifice. We head up the ladder and open the trapdoor. The light from the store makes me blink and my eyes sting.

Beth claps her hands together when she sees us. “Edward! They're back!” she bellows.

She spins in a circle. I notice the weird patch of gray is gone, and her hair is back to its normal, shiny brown. “I have wonderful news!”

Edward slides into the shop and grabs Morgan's hand, pumping it up and down like the outside waterspout. “You made it back. Good man. I knew you would. Look at your sister! You two obviously convinced them!”

I open my mouth, but Beth cuts me off. “It's twins!”

Edward whoops, and I can't help but smile. “That's wonderful.”

Morgan and I exchange a significant glance. What does that mean for us? For the line? Will it go to one of the babies or to me?

“It's not all roses,” I begin.

But the door to the shop flies open, and my parents and Claire both arrive. My mom's clutching a massive picnic basket, and Claire runs to hug me.

Morgan and I catch each other's eyes once again.

It's like they know I've been gone. Even though a faded me, or a form of me, has been here all along.

My mom smiles widely. “We thought you all could use a break. Claire came up with the idea… and your dad and I. Well. We just called off work. We needed to… be with you.”

My mouth hangs open in shock. Beth motions to me to shut it.

“Okay. Great.”