Sunblind Page 32

  “Well, you have friends now,” I say.

  Looking at the floor, at his feet, at his tears falling on top of his sneakers, Napoleon can’t speak; he’s doing everything he can not to break down in front of us. But even if he did, we’d all reach out to help him stand up again. Even Caleb.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb declares.

  His words are almost as destructive as his punches. Nap waves his hands in front of him as if unable to accept Caleb’s kindness, and his tears flow even more freely down his face.

  “No . . . don’t . . .” Nap says. “I . . . I don’t deserve that.”

  “Oh yes you do, and don’t you ever forget that.”

  Archie is grabbing Napoleon by the shoulders forcefully in the exact same way that Caleb grabbed me just a little while ago. They may not have known each other as long as Caleb and I have, but their bond is just as strong. Their invisible thread just as unbreakable.

  “You’re under a spell, like Dominy,” Archie explains. “And like we’re helping her, we’re going to help you.”

  Nap doesn’t try to break free from Archie’s hold with his body, only his words. “You don’t understand,” he says. “My family will never let me go.”

  “That’s because you’ve never had any other place to go to,” Archie beams. “And now you do. You have me.”

  Nap swoons a bit, and Archie has to press tighter into his shoulders to keep him standing; his emotion is so overflowing that it threatens to consume Arla, and she collapses into my arms. Because Napoleon and Arla are so close to each other physically, their mental connection is stronger than it’s ever been before, and she’s feeling things with the same intensity that Nap is. I feel Caleb wrap his arms around both Arla and me, and he buries his face in my neck, my hair obstructing his vision. Napoleon’s raw response is almost too painful to watch, and I’m about to look away, until I see Archie, emboldened instead of frightened, take Napoleon’s face gently in his hands and look him directly in his eyes.

  “I know I’m not old, but sometimes I feel like I’ve lived several lifetimes, and I’ve waited my whole life for someone to share it with,” he declares, his voice shameless. He doesn’t care if we overhear his innermost thoughts, as long as Napoleon understands what he’s telling him. He does.

  “I feel the same way about you,” Nap replies. His voice isn’t as confident as Archie’s, but the shame that overwhelmed him moments ago is definitely starting to fade. “Without you I literally don’t have anything else to live for.”

  Archie kisses Nap. It’s gentle and strong at the same time. When Archie pulls away, his grip on Napoleon is still powerful, and when he speaks his words are passionate. “Then live with me, or we’ll run away together,” he says. “Together we can break this hold your family has on you.”

  But will passionate words and heartfelt intentions wilt in the presence of evil?

  “She’s coming.”

  Arla announces what Napoleon can feel in his soul.

  “It’s Nadine,” Nap confirms. “Oh my God, she must be able to tap into my mind.”

  Thanks to my super hearing the sound of her applause arrives before she does. “Bravo, people!” she cheers. “This is a terrific hiding spot. If my brother weren’t so weak, I would never have found it.”

  And if the closet were any smaller, she wouldn’t fit in here. Have I not noticed how fat she’s gotten, or is this a recent transformation?

  “Seriously, Nadine, don’t you witches have a spell to lose weight?” I ask.

  Smirking, Nadine seems amused by my comment, rather than aggravated. “Not all of us are preoccupied with our looks, Dominy,” she replies. “Some of us are more concerned about inner beauty.”

  “Honey, you’re as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside,” Archie snipes.

  “Says the albino,” she snipes back. “As much as I’d love to keep chatting with all of you, I merely came to amend a piece of advice I once shared with my brother.”

  Holding Archie’s hand, Napoleon seems to have some extra strength to stand up to his sister. “Really? I thought you never changed your mind about anything, sis.”

  “Oh I don’t,” she replies. “I once told you that you had to make a choice, but since you’re so incredibly indecisive, I wanted to let you know that the choice has been made for you.”

  “What choice?” I ask.

  Even though the floor is carpeted, I can still hear Nadine’s footsteps when she walks toward me. “That, Dominy, is a family matter,” she replies. “And you of all people should understand the importance of keeping family secrets.”

  Just before she leaves she turns to add, “But don’t worry. You’ll all find out about this one soon enough.”

  The second she leaves, the air in the closet becomes fresher and easier to breathe. Her comment, however, is not as easy to decipher. The only thing we can all agree on is that whatever she was talking about, it cannot possibly be good.

  Chapter 26

  The more I get to know people, the more everyone seems to be like The Weeping Lady. We’re all stuck in between two worlds at the same time.

  I’m the perfect example of someone who possesses dual citizenship in both the real world and Freakville, but there are so many others. Jess is my best friend and a Japanese sun goddess. Mr. Dice is teacher by day, Omikami mentor by night. Napoleon desperately wants to be a normal teenager, but his family refuses to allow it. And then there’s my mother.

  I’ve avoided going to The Retreat since Essie’s death because the thought of seeing someone else behind the receptionist’s desk, someone who I know is Essie’s permanent replacement, will be confirmation that Essie is not returning to her post. I’d have to accept that there really has been a changing of the guards. I know that Essie is in that proverbial better place and away from all this madness, but I miss her. She was a constant in a sea of change. When I enter The Retreat I see that rough waters indeed lie ahead.

  “Looks like somebody’s been demoted,” I say.

  Nadine waves her hand over the book she’s reading, and the text on the front cover disappears before I can read it. Probably some ancient tome on witchcraft or astrology or both so she can hone her skills.

  “And it looks like somebody needs her mommy,” she replies, handing me an index card with the number 19 written on it in black ink.

  I hesitate a moment, not out of fear, but strategy. Once Nadine relaxes, I grab the card and rip it out of her hands so forcefully that I hear the edge of the card slice into Nadine’s finger. I’m as surprised to see that her blood is red as she is to see that she’s bleeding.

  Grimacing slightly, Nadine points the index finger of her uncut hand at the open wound, and a thin, silver light emerges. It acts like a laser to seal up the cut, and she’s unwounded in seconds. Still I consider it a small victory.

  “Do you think mommy’s going to speak to you today?” Nadine asks, back to snarky form.

  I don’t answer, but simply smile at her instead. It works.

  “Or do you think her pathetic soul has finally given up and decided to call it quits?”

  Once again my father’s tactic proves its mettle. Keep quiet and your opponent will fill up the silence with ammunition so you can bury him. Or her.

  “You believe in the existence of the soul, Nadine?”

  “Of course I do,” she replies. “Just because it can’t be seen doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

  “So how does it make you feel to know that yours is going to burn in hell for all eternity?”

  Her blood, which just ran so freely from her finger, drains from her face. What do you know? Nadine is more human than I ever imagined. Might as well test her limits. “But it must be some relief to know that you’re going to burn to a crisp alongside the rest of the women in your family,” I add.

  “Only the women?” she asks. “Have you now made yourself my brother’s personal savior?”

  As I lean over her desk, my hair—kind of wild and curly today
—falls forward and swings in the space between us. “Your brother may not have as much power as you do,” I whisper. “But he has something you’ll never have.”

  Taking the bait, Nadine replies. “And what would that be?”

  “Friends.”

  Nadine’s face contorts into such a mask of hate and disgust and jealousy, it’s obvious that her feelings are so out of control that she can’t even use her powers to attack me. You might be able to take the witch out of the teenage girl, but you can’t take the teenage girl out of the witch.

  Just before I turn the corner to The Hallway to Nowhere, I add, “I hope you enjoy your mother’s company as much as I enjoy mine. You two are going to be together for a long, long time.”

  Asleep, my mother possesses more maternal instinct than Melinda Jaffe could hope to acquire in a hundred lifetimes. You’re either born with it or you’re not. And even though my mother has been basically silent for the past decade, I know what’s in her heart. Because it’s in mine too.

  I reach into my bag to find my mother’s Guerlinade, but it’s an unnecessary gesture; the scent is already floating through the air. It’s almost as if with each shallow breath my mother takes, the smell of lilacs and powder fills up the room. Like the memory has strength on its own.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  My usual question latches onto the fragrance and glides along with it in the air. There is no verbal response this time, nor do my mother’s eyes open wide to look at me, but there is a change in the room. We have a visitor. Make that visitors.

  “What are you two doing here?” I holler.

  Arla and Archie stare at me as if they want to ask the same question. “We thought you needed backup,” Arla claims.

  “To visit my mother?” I ask.

  “To get past the gargirl at the front desk,” Archie states.

  I’m impressed. “How’d you know the role of the receptionist was now being played by Nadine?” I lift my mother’s hand and place it on her stomach so I have room to sit on her bed.

  “I overheard Napoleon discussing it with Luba,” Arla explains. “Via our psychic hotline.”

  “Can you hear all of Nap’s conversations now?” I wonder aloud.

  “No,” Arla replies, sitting on the foot of my mother’s bed. “I think I can only hear things he wants me to hear. Like advising me that you might need help to get past his sister.”

  “And just how’d you two get past?” I inquire.

  “Archie picked the lock to the back entrance.” Arla beams.

  Glad to know The Retreat has taken advanced security measures to thwart any break-ins.

  “Um, ladies,” Archie interrupts.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I joke.

  “Did no one hear my new nickname for Nadine?”

  “Oh sure,” I reply. “The gargirl.”

  “Good one, Arch,” Arla adds.

  “Good one?” he replies, borderline apoplectic. “That was beyond good; that was odorokubeki—amazing!”

  “What do you think, Arl?” I ask. “Should we give it to him?”

  Arla leans over my mother’s legs and places her hand on the other side of the bed to mull over my request. We look like we’re in one of our bedrooms and not my mother’s hospital room. She nods, then finally replies. “Sure, ‘gargirl’ is pretty odoroky.”

  “Odorokubeki!” Archie corrects.

  He slaps Arla’s hand away so he can sit on the opposite side of the bed. I smile because this image is so wrong and so right at the same time. The three of us should not be sharing a bed with my comatose mother, but I know she would absolutely welcome the company. And she wouldn’t even mind if a fourth joined our party.

  “Jess!” I exclaim.

  Her golden light wafts into the room and elongates until she materializes. When her entrance is complete, she sits on my mother’s left, next to her pillow.

  “I hope you don’t mind my crashing without an invite,” she jokes.

  “You know you never need an invitation,” I say. “You’re always welcome.”

  Even if she can’t be seen.

  “Jess is here!?” Archie screams, his eyes peering around the room, looking for something that to him is invisible.

  “Right in front of you,” I instruct.

  His eyes widen and brighten in her sunshine. He may not be able to see her, but he can definitely feel her presence.

  “Subarashi!” he cries. “Oh, Jess, I miss you so much.”

  “And so does Nap!” Arla blurts out.

  Uh-oh.

  The prevailing silence is interrupted by the clumsy sound of the radiator clicking on. It’s cold outside, and, despite Jess’s sun-colored light, it’s also cold inside. But that’s what you’d expect when two exes are sharing the same bed, figuratively speaking at least.

  Jess must be very confused, because her golden tendrils are flailing like roots being plucked from the earth; they want to remain in a familiar place, but are being yanked to a foreign locale. I think Jess’s journey to the spiritual world might have been less painful than where she’s headed now: to Maturi-tyville.

  “Tell Archie that I forgive him for stealing my boyfriend,” Jess finally says, her face a golden pout.

  “He did not steal Nap from you,” I retort.

  “She thinks I stole Nap from her?” Archie asks, first looking at me then at the empty space where Jess is sitting.

  “She knows you didn’t,” I lie.

  “I know no such thing,” Jess says, still sulking.

  “Jess, we’ve been through this already,” I shout. “Nap is gay; you’re not a guy; it never would’ve worked out.”

  “We could’ve tried!” she counters. “I love fashion and theater and dance music, and those things are all gay!”

  “Jess, you’re insane!” I scream.

  “Jess is here too?”

  Another guest? This party’s starting to get a bit crowded.

  “Caleb?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got a text,” he answers.

  “Sorry, I forgot to tell you,” Arla peeps. “Thought your backup might need some backup, so I texted Caleb.”

  Rubbing my neck, Caleb replies, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t have any trouble with the gargirl at the front desk.”

  It’s the girls versus the guys when Jess, Arla, and I crack up laughing, and Caleb and Archie remain silent. My bf because he’s confused, my BFF because he’s cranky. The only sound louder than our group laughter is Arla’s cell phone ring.

  “Incoming!” Arla announces.

  “From who?” I ask.

  “Ooh, the U.K.,” she replies.

  “Who do you know in England?” Caleb asks.

  We three girls and Archie shriek at the same time. “Nakano!”

  My poor heterosexual boyfriend is still confused. “Naka-who?”

  “Saoirse’s Japanese sidekick,” Arla replies.

  Caleb looks even more confused. “And who’s Saoirse?”

  “You know, she’s the MAC cosmetic girl from across the pond,” Archie reminds him. “And Nakano’s her gay guy Friday.”

  Caleb nods patronizingly. “I think I’m just going to sit here quietly and observe.”

  Which is in complete contrast to Jess. Thrilled to be a few clicks away from a person of true Japanese heritage, Jess is unable to control herself. She wraps Arla’s phone in yellow light like a lasso and pulls it to her so she can read the text. The result being that the phone looks as if it’s floating in the air.

  The four of us scramble to one side of my mother’s bed and group-read the e-convo between Jess and Nakano. The people at Apple have no idea that one of their products is in the process of documenting the very first cross-dimensional, otherworldly, supernatural dialogue. While Nakano’s texts appear in the usual black font, Jess’s words are bright yellow.

  “This is amazing, Jess!!!” Nakano writes. “I’ve found a kindred spirit.”

  “You know what I am?” Jess writ
es back.

  “Don’t know what you call yourself,” he replies. “But I can sense you’re not entirely human either.”

  When Jess shouts in my ear, I’m glad I’m the only one who can hear her, because she’s so excited she’s screaming loud enough to wake my mother.

  “Japanese, gay, and not human!” she shrieks. “Dom, I think I found my soul mate!”

  “Trolling after another queer?” Nadine asks. “You really are a glutton for punishment.”

  By the time the door slams behind Nadine, Jess’s yellow light disappears into the phone. I don’t know if she’s trying to follow the fiber optics to visit Nakano wherever he is in England or if she just can’t stand the sight of Nadine, but she’s gone. The rest of us don’t have any choice but to face the enemy. But we do it as a united front.

  Caleb is the first of us to speak. “Get out, Nadine. Nobody wants you here.”

  Fake-frowning, Nadine purrs. “But, Caleb, you said we were such good friends.”

  “I already told you,” I interrupt. “You don’t have any friends.”

  Stung by being ridiculed in public, Nadine turns her attention to Arla’s phone, which has fallen onto my mother’s bed. She opens up her hand, palm up, and telekinetically drags the phone through the air until it lands safely in her grasp.

  “Let’s see what type of supernatural creature Jess was chatting with,” Nadine says, scrolling through texts. When her eyebrows rise an extra inch, it’s obvious that she’s figured it out. “Subarashi,” she mocks.

  “You know what Nakano is too?” I ask, hoping to trick Nadine into revealing the truth behind the latest member of Camp Inhuman.

  “Nice try,” Nadine replies, tossing the phone into the air so Arla has to lunge forward in order to catch it. “But if you want to know what Nakano is, you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way and ask him yourself.”

  She places her hand on the doorknob, but stops from turning it to turn around and toss another barb. “Or you could ask Jess. Just be sure you do it before the full moon rises tonight. It’s hard to talk with a mouthful of rabbit carcass.”

  Super gross and super wrong.