The Suburban Strange (31 page)

“I’ll bet we keep on with the foolish things.” Celia smiled.

“You know we’d be happy if you did.”

22. KISS ME, KISS ME, KISS ME

T
HE WOMAN AT THE
counter was nice. Celia had helped her a few times before, and she was a good customer. She bought novels by French authors like Zola and Hugo by the handful, and she always complimented Celia on her style. But Celia couldn’t wait for her to finally sign her charge slip, collect her things, and leave, because Tomasi was standing behind her, waiting patiently.

“Hi!” she said finally when the woman had left.

“Hi!” He stepped forward to take the customer’s place at the counter. His mouth barely moved, but Tomasi’s eyes were all Celia needed to see to know how he felt, and right now they danced. “I can’t stay long. Mom needed milk, so this is a test. I have to be back soon.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” This time Celia came around from behind the counter to be closer to him. They stood, each with one hand on the counter, facing each other, just enjoying being near each other again. Once again Celia felt the invisible current between them.
I am such a girl,
she thought blissfully. “So, how are you?”

“Good. I mean, not great, but better than usual, so that’s something. I get to buy milk.”

“So, at the funeral, I drew you close . . .”

“I thought that’s what you were doing.”

“Does it mean your admonition is fulfilled?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. From everything I’ve heard about admonitions, they’re rarely obvious. There could be something completely different I should have done, a different interpretation of any of those words. But it would be nice if you’ve done it. I would like it a lot if you were the one to fulfill my admonition and give me new powers. I just have to wait until the lunar eclipse and see if anything happens. Then we’ll know for sure.”

Knowing that this moment was going to be fleeting, as all her moments with Tomasi seemed to be, Celia was not about to squander it. “There’s something I’ve always meant to ask you, ever since you wrote to me in my sketchbook.”

“What is it?”

“Why did you—how do I say it . . . show me who you were—Kind—by using your power, writing in my sketchbook?”

“Well, you didn’t freak out about it.”

“But how did you know I wouldn’t?”

Tomasi made sure no one was near. “A couple reasons, I guess.” He took her hand, and she looked down at her delicate fingers in his grasp while he went on. “To start, you know the little power I have has caused me more trouble than it’s worth, so far. Who cares if you can read old texts, if it makes your parents think you’re possessed? This was the first time I could use my power to do something that felt good. So I guess part of me didn’t really care.” She looked up and saw the corners of his mouth lifting again in a half smile.

“I’m glad you did, but you know it’s dangerous if regular people—citizens—find out. I mean, your parents . . .”

“Definitely. And maybe I was foolish to tell you. But the other part of it is, I don’t think you’re a citizen.”

“Mariette said the same thing! She was sure I was Kind, too. Why do you think that? I’ve never done anything powerful. I’ve never received an admonition.”

“I know, but see, the Kind can sense each other. At least, as you get stronger, you can sense when someone else is Kind or Unkind. I don’t know how it works, and I can’t really do it myself, because I’ve never taken it seriously before now. But sometimes I think I can tell—it’s like someone kind of glows from the inside. Or I’ll feel something, almost like the way a magnet reacts when you hold it close to another one. Or I’ll hear it, like there was a noise in the background that I hadn’t noticed, but near one person it goes silent. I’m pretty sure that when I feel something like that, I’m sensing another member of the Kind.”

“And you feel that around me?”

“The first night I saw you at Diaboliques, it was like . . . You know how dark that room is, right? And how loud the music is? The moment you were there it was like everything was slightly out of focus, except you. When you moved, I could see where you’d been for a second, like you were leaving a faint trail in the air, light gray. That’s why I couldn’t stop staring at you. Well, and you’re beautiful.”

“Wow.” Celia slid her free hand back and forth across the surface, wondering if Tomasi was seeing something in the air around her.

“So when I wrote to you, I didn’t feel like I was taking a risk. Because I don’t think you’re a citizen. I think you’re Kind, too.”

“But I can’t—I mean, wouldn’t things be happening to me? Wouldn’t I discover I could
do
something, that I have some kind of power?”

“I don’t know. I’m still learning about all this. I just know what I can feel when I’m around you. And you don’t feel like anyone else.”

“Well, I feel that way around you, too.” Celia smiled.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.” Tomasi stroked the back of her hand with his finger.

“Don’t get in trouble. It’s not worth it.”

“I think you’re worth it,” he mumbled, suddenly shy. “I’ll call you later?”

“Okay,” she said. He hesitated, then leaned in to kiss her. His mouth lingered against hers, and it was heaven, and then he squeezed her hand and walked away. She watched him on his way out the door and then waved to him when he looked in the window as he walked by. Celia turned to see if Lippa had been spying on them again, but no one was there.

WHEN CELIA GOT HOME
there was a letter from Mrs. Hansen, who had enclosed Mariette's note addressed to Celia. She unsealed the envelope and read Mariette's familiar script.

Dear Celia,

I don’t know why I am writing a last will and testament, or whatever this is properly called. Nothing is going to happen to me, and I don’t really have any possessions that should be distributed to anyone. But I suppose there is a tiny chance something
could
happen to me, and if it does, there are some things I’d really want you to know.

First of all, I love you. You are beautiful and smart and such a good person, and I love you. It’s so amazing to write that! I would have told you, but I knew there wasn’t any point. I understand you won’t ever feel the same way toward me. Don’t worry about it. Being close to you is enough for me. Protecting you is enough for me.

Second, Tomasi loves you, too. Or he will, if you let him. And I think you will love him, too, so I hope you will be happy with him. I never told you how I met him when I went to his house. Apparently I still haven’t figured out how to turn invisible! We had a nice talk, mostly about you, of course! You can trust him, and I think you can help him, so pay close attention to his admonition. Speaking of admonitions, you have helped me in a way you couldn’t know. This is mine:

Strength and power come to you
Like night flowers or morning dew
If you protect the one you love
And keep her safely, tell her true

If she puts you to paper soon
Before the earth crosses the moon
The course is fixed toward your goal
To light your way, like sun at noon

Beware the one who hides in sight
And seeks the darkness, not the light
Who knows seventeen many ways
And offers wrong disguised as right.

When you gave me my portrait at Christmas it was all I could do to keep from kissing you, because of course you had fulfilled my admonition by putting me to paper! I wish all my admonitions were so enjoyable (and that they all involved you)! You see now why I was sure you are one of the Kind? A citizen wouldn’t be able to fulfill an admonition like you have—at least, I can’t imagine it.

And I might as well tell you about the admonition I fulfilled at the beginning of the year—the one I said was too personal. It was to find you at Suburban and become your friend. I suppose you won’t be surprised to learn that now!

If you have this letter, though, it’s because I didn’t make it to the lunar eclipse and never gained the power you helped me to earn. But I cherish my portrait for so many reasons, regardless. And I figured “tell her true” didn’t just make it okay for me to reveal who I am to you—it was something I
had
to do. Maybe I was supposed to have told you about my feelings for you, instead of my other secrets. Who knows . . .

Something terrible must have happened to me, as unlikely as I think that is. Probably the one of whom I was to beware got to me. I have spent hours every day puzzling over this, and I don’t think I’ve ever come close to figuring it out. I’m so sorry for being suspicious of everyone (unless it turns out one of them is the Unkind)! All I can say is, I was grasping at anything that might make sense. Who knows, maybe it really is someone who is seventeen and I haven’t found out who. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.

If I am gone, I don’t want you to pursue this, though. Please don’t. It will only put you in danger, and I won’t have it. There are so many things I wish I understood better, and I can’t give you any proof, but I have a deep feeling there is more than one person behind this darkness. If only I were more experienced! I would have been capable of so much more, and things would have turned out so differently.

What I really want to say is, please be careful. I would ask you to turn your back on everything I’ve told you and eventually this whole crazy secret world will close up, like a wall that used to have a door in it. But I don’t think you can. I think you have a place in this strange world. And you have Tomasi, so I can’t imagine it another way. Just be happy, please? And remember me as a devoted friend. The one who loved you more than you could ever know.

XOXO
Mariette

Celia wiped her eyes and put down the letter. She remembered the day she met Mariette, a bundle of perpetual motion, like the hummingbird they had seen outside the window. Mariette never had spent a moment waiting for her life to start. She simply had lived it, following anything that excited her in whatever direction it led.

The number seventeen was perhaps the last mystery to solve, but now, with everything she knew, Celia untangled that knot easily. Mariette even had rattled it off on the bus to the field trip back in September. Seventeen was the atomic number of chlorine, and chlorine was such an obvious marker for a high school chemistry teacher who was also the swim coach! Celia cursed the admonitions, cursed whatever gods were responsible for writing them. She didn’t care if she was calling their wrath down on her.

Mariette had been in love with her. She could see it now. She understood why Mariette had been crying that day in the bathroom, and what her kiss on Celia’s cheek on her birthday had meant. Celia folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. On her dresser next to Liz’s poetry box sat the carved wooden box the Rosary had given her for her birthday. It already contained the amulet and chain she had taken from around Mariette’s neck. She opened the box and put the letter inside.

Celia went through her old sketchbook to find the single page she had hidden there last fall. She reread what she now knew was Mr. Sumeletso’s admonition, wondering if any of it would make more sense this time. But the words still swam around on the page, offering her fragments she understood and plenty that was still unclear. She tucked it back into the sketchbook she carried with her, thinking it didn’t make a difference now. And she had a feeling she would look at it again in the days to come.

CELIA WAS LATE COMING DOWN
to the lobby after school, and she didn't find any of the Rosary there. She made her way out to the parking lot and found the five of them over by their cars. They didn't seem to be looking for her. Regine stood in front of Ivo, her body angled at him like a knife, and he was motionless, arms folded, looking away from her. The others stood by, watching uncomfortably.

As Celia approached, Regine was shouting. “I knew I wasn’t being paranoid. I mean, it’s only two weeks until
prom
”—Regine spit out the short word Celia knew she hated—“and you still haven’t asked me? I thought, how long is he planning on waiting? But no, you weren’t going to ask me anyway!” Other students stared, and this time the Rosary looked around nervously, but Regine looked only at Ivo.

“What do you want me to say?” Ivo asked her.

“Why don’t you like me?” Regine was crying, but her rage trumped her despair, and her body stayed on the offensive.

“How am I supposed to answer that? You know I like you as a friend. You are so important to me—”

“Of course we’re friends! Except I’m the idiot who’s been fooling herself for
years
while the rest of you”—Regine whirled around to accuse the rest of them—“watched and snickered!”

Liz spoke up. “What did you want us to do? If I had said, ‘Regine, I don’t think Ivo likes you that way,’ what would you have done? I bet you would have lashed out at me the same way you’re lashing out at him now!”

“I can’t believe this!” Regine ran to her car, yanked open the door, and got in. The rest of them stepped out of the way as she backed out and drove off. Before she was even out of the parking lot, Regine’s car was going faster than Celia had ever seen it, though that wasn’t saying very much.

“Oh my god,” Celia said. The others looked at her, and she said helplessly, “She didn’t even put on her driving gloves.”