Silent Symmetry (The Embodied trilogy) (8 page)

Cruz hurried out of the fast-emptying cafeteria. I tipped my leftovers into the garbage and put the tray on top of the pile. Before heading out I turned back and saw Noon and Aranara at the table, looking down at their untouched food. Each still with clasped hands. It was freaky. Almost like they were praying. Then I remembered – I needed to confront Noon about the Temple of Truth. As that thought formulated he unclasped his hands and looked up, straight at me. The jolt I felt was like a mental taser. The blood rushed to my cheeks and I turned swiftly away.

I wandered out of the cafeteria in a bit of a daze. I should have been excited about the prospect of watching Cruz at the tryout, but suddenly all I could think about was
Noon – his searching gaze, his intelligent mouth and his hypnotic presence. How did all this happen so quickly? In fact, what was really happening?

* * * * *

A soft rain started to fall over the football field as Noon and I sat down on the bleachers. No one else was watching the team hopefuls trudge through the mud below us. It was hard to tell which one was Cruz underneath the padding and helmets. The uniforms had no names or numbers on the back (Chelsea Prep had money for sure, but wasn’t exactly renowned for its sports teams) and the only way Cruz stood out was his body language. It was just like when he quit the café – there was an animal energy to his stride. A purposeful focus, like a thick, coiled spring being flexed.

I was edgy, nervous. I had to talk to
Noon about the Temple of Truth and this was the perfect occasion, huddled together under his big, black umbrella with the random pitter-patter above our heads.

“I, um,
I need to ask you something.” This was a pretty good intro. But Noon turned his head slowly to face me and suddenly I’d lost the urge to pursue the matter. I blinked hard and tried to focus. Why was it so difficult? Come on, Kari – you like him, but do you literally have to act like a retard every time you’re with him?! Focus, focus, focus.

I cleared my throat, then blurted out, “Are you a member of the
Temple of Truth?” and felt a wave of relief that I’d managed to actually say it.

He looked at me. The same burning gaze as always. What was he thinking? Was he going to get angry? Whatever. I’d opened the door
, so I felt like I might as well barrel through it, all guns blazing.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you live in my building?”

I held my breath, totally expecting him to be pissed, or at least to have some sort of reaction. But there wasn’t one. What the eff was up with him? Was he even human? I couldn’t let up now.

“You walked me home after our study session at the café, but you never said you lived in The Warrington too.”

Then, to my astonishment, he looked down almost sadly and said, “I apologize, Kari.”

Now I almost felt bad for prying. “Oh no – I didn’t mean to – ”

“No problem,” he cut me off. “We’re secretive.”

So he
was
a member!

“And you know my mom works for the
Temple, right?”

He nodded, then looked back at me. “Of course. But don’t worry – we’re committed to working together using peaceful methods toward creating a safe future for all mankind.”

Did I seem worried? Was it a religion or some kind of cult?

“We’re not a cult,” he continued, as though reading my thoughts, and something about the expression on his face told me that he wasn’t lying. Or, at least, he believed what he was saying was true. But what if the name
Temple of Truth was a lie in itself?

“Okay...” I continued, “But what do you actually do? I mean, the members? Do you guys pray together or do charity work or wear weird robes or have unusual eating habits or
...” oh man, I was starting to dig myself into a hole. Luckily, my muddled thoughts were interrupted by a communal grunt from the tryout guys below us as they pounded into each other.

“Listen,” said
Noon quietly, “it’s my life, and that’s all I can say. There are many of us all over the world and we’ve been around for a very long time. But we don’t like to talk about what we do or why we do it.”

As he said this,
Noon’s expression changed subtly, as though a shadow – some kind of infinite despair or terrible pain – had engulfed his soul. I had no choice but to take his explanation at face value. It just seemed so private, so much a part of who he was. But I really wanted to know more. Because I really wanted to know
him
.

“HEY!” came a shout from the field. The players had taken a break and Cruz was waving up at us, beaming as though the rain was a sunburst. He seemed
not to have a care in the world at that moment. His emotions were so real and so raw that they drew me in. But Noon was a mystery. An enigma that I needed to solve. A guy whose icily calm exterior seemed to house the answer to a question that stretched wider than the galaxy. We had a connection like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I was becoming addicted to his presence.

A whistle below.
Cruz put his helmet back on and rejoined the action.

“I have to go,” announced
Noon. “Do you want to keep the umbrella?”

“Oh. I
... sure.” Wait – I had absolutely no inclination to sit on my own in the rain. I was getting colder and my lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. “No, I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring the umbrella in Noon’s outstretched hand.

He stood there looking at me as though calculating or strategizing something. “Could you just hold this for a second?” he said, motioning with the umbrella. I took it and he put his hands together and closed his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and watch Cruz?” he queried, calmly but convincingly.

Suddenly I wasn’t sure of anything. I glanced back at the field, my eyes scanning automatically for Cruz’s distinctive figure and movements. Under the shelter of Noon’s umbrella I felt somehow cozy. My brain had done a one-eighty over the space of a few seconds. I noticed how warm the curved wooden handle was in my hand. It was Noon’s warmth. I snapped my attention back to the bleachers in time to see him stepping silently over them, up toward the steps at the back.

“
Noon!” I shouted to him.

He stopped in
stantly but didn’t turn around.

“Wait up!”

I scrambled over the wet benches, trying not to slip. The rain dripped down from his black hair. When I reached him, he finally turned around and unclasped his hands. I felt a surge of emotion as he looked at me. Then he broke eye contact and made for the steps.

He stayed silent the whole way back to the main school building. I guess I was silent too, but it was like he wasn’t saying anything on purpose. Had I annoyed or offended him, and he was just being polite? Then I remembered the other thing I wanted to ask him about.

“How do you and Aranara know each other?”

He kept walking for several seconds. Was he really just going to ignore me?

“I mean, I guess you’ve been at school together for a few years, right?” I continued, “But I got the feeling you guys had some other connection, like you’re cousins maybe or something like that.”

He stopped abruptly and spun around. His mouth was tighter and his nostrils flared. This was as close to any kind of emotion as I’d ever seen from him.

“I really don’t want to talk about her,” he said with a wavering voice.

Man
, I guess I’d hit a raw nerve.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked,” I said, genuinely taken aback by his response. “She must have
... you guys have some kind of history together, don’t you? It’s fine. I understand.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, then the emotion seemed to drain from his features. His shoulders dropped slightly and he cracked a small smile.

“No, it’s not like that. Let’s just say she’s not my favorite person and drop it.”

He started walking again. I caught up and we reached the school’s rear entrance.

“Here you go – thanks,” I said, shaking the water off the umbrella and handing it back.

He opened the door and started going inside, then stopped
and came back out.

“You said you lost your cat?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anything else unusual happen?” he enquired.

“Well, there’s the other cat...” I shrugged.

He leapt on my remark. “What? What do you mean”

“Another cat came into the apartment last night,” I answered, surprised at his reaction. “We left the door open for Flash – he’s our cat – and when I woke up, a fluffy Persian was on my bed.”

“On your bed.”

“Yes, on my bed. Purring loudly,” I added, wondering what on earth he was so concerned about.

“You have to get rid of her, Kari.”

“What? Why? And how do you know it’s a she?”

He put his hands on my shoulders, staring hard into my eyes.

“Please. Trust me.”

“I
...” In all honesty, my brain had switched off again. “I... okay then.”

He was insistent, but not imploring. “As soon as you get back – promise?”

I nodded. “Sure thing.”

He let out a sigh. “Thank you.”

I was still drowning in his eyes as he opened the door again.

“I need to go do something. I’ll see you Monday
,” he said, then turned and walked away.

And that was the last time
Noon set foot in Chelsea Prep.

* * * * *

When I got back home, the Persian followed me from room to room. I felt kinda bad about putting her outside, but I’d made a promise. I put it off for as long as possible, but realized that if Mom got home I’d have to explain the weird conversation with Noon.

I think the cat could sense something because she suddenly vanished. I had taken out Flash’s carrying cage and set it down on the kitchen floor. When I opened the cage door, threw a handful of food inside and made the squeaky noises that always made Flash come running, there was no sign of her. I checked under the beds but she wasn’t there. Okay, this was silly. I needed to get rid of her and now she’d disappeared anyway
? Does that even count as a fail? So... case closed, right? If she miraculously rematerialized when Mom got home, I’d deal with it then.

But she didn’t reappear. And I don’t even know how she got out. Mom was tired from a long day at work so she didn’t want to spend any energy looking for yet another lost cat.

I could tell she was tired because she made mac and cheese for supper. Organic mac and cheese, but still... As she poured the pasta into the boiling water, her face livened up.

“How about we go sightseeing together this weekend, pumpkin?”

I had to laugh. “Great idea, Mommy-kins!”

“Argh
hh,” she groaned.

She was
totally exhausted – I could see it in her eyes. She must have been under a lot of pressure with the new job and new city. And in truth, I felt exhausted too that evening. Not just physically, either. I felt totally drained mentally.

“Seriously, I’d love to do that,
Mom,” I added.

“You know what – I’ll even look into how much a helicopter tour costs.”

“You’re kidding! That would be freaking awesome!!!” I was jumping up and down in the kitchen like a little girl.

“
None of that language when we’re in the air,” she mock-scolded, waving a wooden spoon at me.

I threw my arms around her. “You’re the best,
Mom. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Likewise, honey,” she said
gently, kissing my hair.

We both crashed pretty fast after supper and went to bed super early. I can’t say that I slept well though. I don’t even remember most of my dreams, but I know they were even weirder than usual.

Chapter 4

Dream #23: I’m in a crowd of people, trying to push past them, but I don’t even know which way I’m supposed to be going. The more I push, the tighter the crowd gets. Then I realize that everyone is looking at me and closing in on me. I’m suffocating as they press against me and no amount of struggling can help me escape. I feel hotter and hotter and I’m losing control of my body and mind. I wake up in a sweat.

That Saturday with Mom was so amazing. We did a whole bunch of touristy stuff, but all the while I was thinking, This is my city – I actually live here! Mom had booked a twenty-minute helicopter ride that was taking off from the Wall Street heliport at 4pm, so we had time to catch the ferry out to Liberty Island and visit the statue before that.

It was a beautiful fall morning and the passengers packed the deck to look back at the receding skyscrapers glinting in the sun. Mom and I were pressed against the railing, hair blowing in the breeze. A tall, sandy-blond-haired man wearing a brown suede jacket was standing to the other side of
Mom. He turned to her, raising his voice to be heard above the wind and the noise of the engines.