Revel (22 page)
I might have cried myself to sleep over Jax. But that night, I dreamt of Sean.
“Hold on,” he said, his breath warming my ear. He stood close behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. The solid bulk of his frame felt safe—as tall and strong and sure as a fortress.
We flew up, soaring into a bright sky. I laughed at the sheer joy of it as cool wind whipped past me, skimming my skin and stealing my breath. But I was warm and secure in Sean’s arms. We flew over the spiky green treetops of the island and over the edge of the black cliffs. Then water rushed below as we dove down and flew over the sea, close enough to see the
dip and shadows between the waves. Close enough to smell the water.
We rose higher, so high I could see the clouds. They were pure white, like wisps of cotton.
But something about the clouds frightened me. “Not that way,” I said, pulling at Sean. “We can’t go into the clouds.”
But he didn’t hear me and he let go of my waist. We still flew side by side, but now I held on to only his hand. Then only his fingers.
“Don’t let go of me!” Sean yelled. His fingers were slipping from mine. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The wind was in my ears, my throat. It stole my breath as I tried to cry out, to tell him to hold on, to come back.
Then he disappeared, swallowed up by a white cloud.
And I was alone, and falling. The water was rushing up at me so fast. When I struck it, I knew I would die.
I woke up, covered in a sheen of clammy sweat, my heart pounding. I released my clutch on the sheets.
Why did dreams sometimes feel so much more real than life? And dreaming like that about Sean … I had no idea what it meant.
Z
uzu and I walked together toward the center of the village.
“Afternoon, Zuzu.”
“Nice day for a walk, Zuzu. Lookin’ good.”
“Hello, girls.”
I knew the greetings we got were only because I was with Zuzu, but it made me feel good all the same. I was still treated as an oddity by most of the islanders. Gran fussed over me in her own way, I think trying to make up for this. And I know she was trying to get me to accept my “specialness,” to come to terms with having some demigod blood in me. She baked something practically every day and put vases of daisies on my dresser.
Despite her stern demeanor, I was learning how much
Gran cared. She loved me. And yet I still couldn’t understand how she could live with the things that happened here on Trespass. Maybe I never would, and would just have to accept that fact.
“Are you going to the band concert tonight?” I asked Zuzu, picking my way carefully over the old cobblestoned portion of the road in my flip-flops.
“Absolutely.”
Routines were a big part of what held everyone together on Trespass, and the band concert was one that I really liked. I’d been twice so far. The musicians set up in a small gazebo near the center square every Saturday of the summer from eight till ten. People would bring blankets and snacks, then relax and listen to the music while gazing up at the stars and chatting with their neighbors. It was nice.
I wondered if Sean might show up tonight; I hadn’t seen him at any of the concerts yet. I didn’t think he was actually avoiding me; he was just constantly working, or busy doing patrols around the island. I hadn’t seen him since our talk on his boat. And not since I’d found out the truth about Revel.
What did Sean think about it? I wondered. Would he care that I was going to take part in it?
All over the island preparations for Revel were evident. Even the Snug was decorated with crepe-paper streamers of yellow
and blue and strings of tiny white lights strung along the ceiling. When I walked in I saw Reilly reading an electronics textbook, muttering and making notes to himself in the margins, while Zuzu swayed in her chair to the rhythm of “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay.” She beamed at me and then gave a puzzled frown. “Hey. Where are your glasses? You lose them?”
“What? No. I mean yes. Yes, I did,” I said. “But it’s okay, I can see without them. It wasn’t a very strong prescription.” It was one thing that Gran knew about my watery birthright and the odd changes I was going through. It was something else entirely to tell my friends.
Reilly looked up from his book. “I thought something was different.” He smiled. “Gee. I never noticed how bright your eyes are.”
Dropping my gaze to the table, I suddenly wished that the lighting was a little dimmer in here. Were my eyes changing in appearance too? I was
so
not ready for any of this. I’d just started to feel accepted here, to make friends.
Maybe it was too soon to call Sean and Zuzu and Reilly my friends, but that was the way I felt. And I wasn’t going to take the chance of alienating them all over again by being, well,
alien
. I just wasn’t ready to tell them yet.
“So are you ready?” asked Zuzu.
“For what?” I asked, looking up in alarm.
She rolled her eyes. “For Revel.”
“Oh. I guess so,” I said quietly. I kind of wished Zuzu would talk about something else.
“You don’t look so good,” said Zuzu, searching my face. “Do you feel okay?”
“Just tired, I guess.” I hadn’t been near the water in days. Part of my new program to stay out of trouble, avoid Jax and prevent myself from getting any special creature features.
But I felt awful. It was like my body was going through withdrawal. And maybe not just for the water. For Jax.
I wanted to hear his voice again. Be near him again.
“You want to dance?” said Zuzu.
“No. Thanks. You and Reilly go ahead.”
“Come on,” said Zuzu, holding out her hand to Reilly. “It’s you and me.”
“Are you going to let me lead this time?” he grumbled, but got up immediately to follow her onto the floor. I smiled at the sight of them dancing together.
They made a really cute couple. Though I wasn’t sure if they were a couple. I suspected that Reilly wanted to be. But it was obvious they were friends. That was probably the best way for love to start. As something warm and strong that grew over time.
Not some mindless, crazy impulse.
On that note I put my head down on folded arms and tried not to think about Jax.
I
t was the twenty-first of June. The summer solstice and the day of Revel.
“I know that this has been real hard for you,” said Gran. She sat on the couch, clutching a piece of white fabric in her hands. “All I know is this island, this life,” she said gruffly. “I can’t change.”
“I know that, Gran.”
The dress she held out to me was a strange contrast to her weathered hands. It was a featherlight tunic of diaphanous white silk. I held it up and it shimmered in the streaks of sunlight coming through the window.
“Helen wore this eighteen years ago,” Gran said. “Promise me that no matter what happens tonight—” She stopped, her eyes on the floor. She cleared her throat. “You’ll stay. Promise me you won’t run away.”
Like she did
.
The unspoken words hung in the air between us.
“I promise,” I whispered, even though the words felt like a chain around my throat. And how could I make a promise like that when I had no idea what lay ahead? But I wanted to comfort Gran, to let her know that I loved her.
“We should go,” she said, nodding. “Let me get my things together.”
Gran had prepared a lot of food for Revel. I didn’t know if she always made this much or if the tension between us had amplified her baking/coping mechanism, but her kitchen table was laden with food.
Special things to celebrate the riches of the island were prepared for this celebration. Like cakes studded with dried cranberries and blueberries, apple pies, and pots of herbed goat cheese. There was also a huge, glistening loaf of bread, carefully sculpted into the form of a fish, its scales and texture made from slivered nuts and poppy seeds.
We filled the back of the golf cart with the food, and lastly Gran put in a satchel that contained her bags of dried herbs.
On the day of Revel, all the island women spent the day in preparation and separate from the men. The girls who were eligible were initiated into the “rites of tribute,” and the older women helped them. The location for these solemn preparations was the Grange Hall, which struck me as kind of funny. It sounded more like a place to hold bingo games or 4-H displays than preparations for an ancient ritual.
“Rites of tribute” also sounded kind of ominous; my palms
were clammy when we arrived at the Grange Hall. The scene inside was a relief: it looked more like a noisy sorority party than some solemn initiation. A breakfast of scrambled eggs, sliced breads and fruit was laid on a table alongside insulated carafes of drinks.
“Delia!”
Zuzu ran over, her cheeks flushed and her large eyes sparkling.
She hugged me close. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.
There was a lot of giggling and nervous laughter among the girls, while the older women sat and chatted over cups of strong coffee. I learned that there were twelve young women, including myself, who were eligible to take part in the tribute this year. Two of them were the sisters I’d met in the Snug, Marisa and Linda; the rest I hadn’t met yet.
After breakfast we went outside. A wagon waited there, hitched to a tractor that looked about a million years old. I was surprised to see Ben Deare standing beside it. The sling was gone from his arm, and he looked spry as he clambered up to the driver’s seat.
“Miss Delia,” he said, touching his cap to me as I followed the rest of the women to climb into the wagon.
The wagon carried us out of the village and up a winding, bumpy road until we stopped on a high plateau with a grassy field. It must have been a high point of the island; turning in all directions, I could look down and see Trespass
sloping to the blue sea below. We walked to the center of the field, where a stand of tall oak trees stood, some of them with trunks as wide as a barrel. Inside this ring of trees was a pool of clear greenish water. Steam rolled off the bubbling surface.
One by one the girls got undressed and stepped in. I did too, but held a towel wrapped around myself until the last moment, tossing it aside and stepping down into the pool so quickly the heat of the water nearly made me swoon. I edged around cautiously, feeling my way for a spot on the natural shelf of smooth stone that circled the pool. I sat down and leaned back, my neck resting on a pillowy growth of moss that grew at the edge of the pool. The water bubbled at my feet, tickling its way between my toes.
Gran and two of the other older women were there with packets of soothing herbs that they sprinkled into the water. Lavender and roses, chamomile and valerian. I’d helped harvest and dry many of them with Gran, and the familiar scents calmed me.
“This hot spring comes from the heart of the island,” said Marisa, her face rosy beside me. “It’s supposed to have healing properties.”
Her sister Linda splashed some onto her face and neck. “Not just healing. It’s supposed to make you irresistible.”
Marisa held her nose and dunked beneath the bubbling surface, getting a round of laughter from everyone.