Cornerstone

by Misty Provencher

  “I don’t care.” I tell him.

  “I only did it to be completely positive of what you are.”

  “Nice.” I snap. “Glad you’re happy. And what would’ve happened if you were wrong?”

  “Nothing.” His shoulders rise in a gentle shrug. “If I was wrong about you, I would’ve known right away because it would’ve been easy to grab you, that’s all.”

  “Or bash my head in.”

  “I would never hurt you.” His voice grows solid, almost angry with my accusation. He takes a breath before beginning again. “If you don’t know anything else about me, know that, Nalena. I’d never hurt you.”

  “That’s funny because you sure acted like you were going to.”

  “I wanted to see if you were frightened. I had to. It was part of making sure of what you are. Fear is a common mistake when you haven’t been trained to avoid it. The Contego learn to overcome it.” He searches my expression and I see desperation in him, a plead for me to understand. His sincerity sends a wave of regret through me, and I struggle to remind myself of what he just did to me. “When you’re scared, it shuts you down. You have to have faith in what you’re doing or you instantly fail.”

  “Whatever a Contego is, I’m not that.” I say. The excitement on his face disappears. He takes another step toward me and when I don’t react, he closes the gap between us, reaching out to cup my upper arm.

  “You’re overwhelmed, aren’t you.” he says. It’s not a question. Something in his voice, instead of the raw current in his hand, holds me still. “Contego is one of the four blood lines of the Ianua. Look, I can even prove that I know what you’re going through. You’ve felt the gears of an engine spinning inside of you, right?”

  Gears of an engine sound a lot like what has been happening inside of me and there’s no way he could know about the whirring. I’ve kept it to myself so entirely that my mom doesn’t even know. I suddenly feel lost at the end of Garrett’s touch.

  “You know what I mean, don’t you?” Garrett asks, coaxing out the recognition that is uncurling inside of me. All of this is connected…my mom knowing the Reese’s and my Grandpa’s community and the bubble and the way I can move. I feel like I’m flailing in the deep end of a pool. “When everything falls into the right combination, it feels like you blow open, doesn’t it? Like you come out of yourself. You’re protected and your body can do things that shouldn’t be possible. Like running at an insane speed. Like being able to sidestep the girls in the bathroom. Like being able to dodge me.”

  “What is this? What’s happening to me?” I put my head in my hands, trying to slow my thoughts. Maybe I’m an alien or a superhero or a monster. Maybe I’m having strokes or heart attacks. Every horror movie I’ve ever seen replays in a montage, one terrifying scene stacked on another, like dominoes dropping in my head. My mind skitters in a dozen directions and I feel sick. My breathing goes erratic and suddenly, Garrett pushes me down on the ground and I’m sitting with my head between my knees.

  “Breathe.” His voice is still calm behind the curtain of my hair. I try to do as he says, even though my heart is hammering the breath out of me faster than I can pull it in. I squeeze my eyes shut and then, Garrett’s voice is the only thing my senses allow.

  “It’s all right” he says. “Just breathe. That’s right. Just listen to me and breathe.”

  ~ * * * ~

  I hear the French doors squeak open but before I hear anyone’s voice, Garrett calls “She’s okay.”

  “What happened?” Sean’s voice comes closer from across the lawn, accompanied by the voices of the two other Reese boys, who are echoing Sean’s question. I groan inwardly. My head is still between my knees. Today’s been a series of puking panic attacks and I just want my life to smooth out, back to normal.

  “Did you look at the mugs?” Garrett asks.

  “No.” Sean’s footsteps stop short of us. Garrett stays squatted down beside me.

  “What’s going on?” Brandon asks.

  “Did you knock her out?” Mark sounds a little too excited at the prospect. Garrett ignores the younger boys, aiming his discussion solely at Sean.

  “You’ve got to check out the mugs.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sean says. “I know, I know. Read the tea. But obviously you two have figured out something on your own.”

  “Yeah.” Garrett says. “I was right.”

  Their conversation is so normal and unconcerned that I relax. My breathing goes back to normal. I have no idea what kind of look is being exchanged over my head, but I can only guess that they are rolling their eyes, since obviously, I’m not a girl who can handle whatever is being dished out. But instead of the pity or disgust I expect next, I get a hard thunk on the back and Mark booms, “Congratulations, Nalena!”

  “Easy, easy.” Garrett growls at his brother as I raise my head. I feel such a shade of pale that I probably look as lively as a wax statue, but thankfully, Garrett is too busy glaring at Mark to notice.

  “Does that mean what I think it does?” Brandon’s voice dulls with every word. “Doesn’t it only happen when...”

  “Maybe her dad was Contego.” Mark is cheerful and upbeat.

  Sean’s frown doesn’t budge. He shakes his head.

  “No. You know that doesn’t happen. The blood lines don’t mix.” he says. “If she really is Contego, it can only mean a Cusp.”

  “She is.” Garrett insists.

  “We’ll see.” Sean says with a shrug.

  “What’s a Contego?” I ask, but my voice is limp. No one seems to hear.

  “Do you think we’re the first ones to know?” Brandon asks.

  The four Reese brothers collectively think it over while I wait for someone to explain it. I hear the bubble of the koi pond and a breeze waft through the surrounding trees. The silence becomes so heavy it feels unbreakable. I run my hand through my hair, aggravated instead of respectful.

  “What’s a Cusp?” I ask.

  “Nothing big.” Sean shrugs but Mark clucks his tongue.

  “Only the change of everything.” he says.

  There is a wiggle in the high bushes at the lot line nearest the house. Mark, Brandon and Garrett automatically drop into a defensive stance. Feeling a tension in my legs, I glance down and see that I am no longer sitting, but crouched in a stance that mirrors Garrett’s. The combination inside of me is whirring.

  The branches beside the patio jostle again and burst apart and Iris comes blasting through, trying to control the hot pink bike that wobbles beneath her.

  “Get outta the way!” she screams. Even as the bike flounders, Iris manages to grab hold of her pink bubble horn. The thing squeaks Pickles! Pickles! Pickles! as she shakes over the lawn, going straight for Garrett.

  “Get outta the way!” she howls again, but instead of jumping back to avoid her, Garrett slides an inch to the side and grabs the bicycle frame as she passes. The bike jerks to a halt and Iris lets out a grunt. She looks up from beneath her baby fine bangs and smiles at Garrett, all teeth.

  “Whew...that was close!” she squeals.

  “You can say that again.” Garrett tells her. “Where’s your helmet, Trouble?”

  “It fell off when I went through the sprinkler.” she grumbles, climbing off her bike. She dislodges one of the two soggy stuffed animals from her basket, brightening as she adds, “But I didn’t ride over the McCarthy’s garden today!”

  “It’s about time.” Brandon grumbles. “I’m sick of fixing their fence.”

  “Good work, Shorty.” Sean congratulates her. She beams.

  “I brought bears to play tea party with the fishes. Who wants to have Mr. Boodles?” Iris asks. She is only looking at me.

  “Please don’t make me have a tea party with the fish.” I mumble to Garrett. He laughs.

  “Mark and Brandon want to play.” Garrett tells her and she drops the lump of a stuffed animal against her chest with a frown. “Nalena’s helping Sean and I make dinner tonight. Unless Mar
k and Brandon want to cook instead.”

  “No way.” Mark says gloomily. “I’ll play tea house.”

  “Tea party.” Iris corrects him. Mark’s shoulders droop.

  “Fine.” he says. “Just gimme Mr. Boodles.”

  “I get Boodles.” Brandon says and when Mark springs for the soggy bear, Brandon pulls him into a headlock. Sean sighs and turns toward the house. Garrett and I follow him.

  “Am I some evil omen?” I ask Garrett. Sean pinches the inside of his cheek with his molars.

  “No.” Garrett’s laugh is light but Mark, still stuck in Brandon’s headlock behind us, hollers, “Yes you are!”

  “You’re not an evil omen.” Sean says. “The world is always changing. All a Cusp means is that there is a bigger shift than usual coming. Changes can spark…altercations. That’s all.”

  “What kind of shift? Like California’s finally going to fall into the ocean—that kind of shift? Or do you means something like a meteor or a nuclear bomb? What kind of altercation are you talking about? And what’s a Contego?” My throat goes dry and my voice is squeezed in it. My brain tumbles Alo, dead people’s memories, Contego and Cusp all together. Garrett takes my hand.

  “Contego are warriors.” he says. He makes it sound like a sun sign. Virgo, Taurus, Leo, Contego.

  “Actually, they’re protectors.” Sean corrects with a punch to Garrett’s shoulder. “And as far as Cusps go, no one knows what changes are coming. Historically, Cusps have sometimes brought war, economic depression, riots, crime. But a Cusp could also bring strongly positive changes like huge advances in technology, the cure for an epidemic or the end of segregation. It’s not always the worst case scenario, but the Cusps do signal some sort of powerful change, even if we can’t tell if they’ll be positive or negative. Hey, if we knew, it wouldn’t be any fun, right?”

  He swings open one of the French doors and Garrett holds it for me.

  “So, I’m the sign of a change that’s coming? Great.” I say, but the two of them just laugh. It makes me feel a little hollow, as if I’m on the outside of the joke.

  Sean beelines to mine and Garrett’s mugs, left on the counter. He picks them up like binoculars and peers into them. He says, huh, three or four times before setting them back where they were, by the cookie jar. I wonder how long they’ll sit there before someone decides to wash them out.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Garrett says but Sean just shrugs and says, eh, like it’s nothing.

  “Tell you what?” I ask, looking from one brother to the other. “What does it tell you?”

  “What I said before.” Garrett says with a grin. “That you’re Contego.”

  I go silent. It has to be a joke and I’m not going to keep biting. Garrett must’ve just had a lucky guess about the whirring. Engine gears are different, actually, more grinding than whirring. Kind of. I think of how short of a time that I have known Garrett and how incredible it was that he just happened to find me in the library, as if he was tracking me down rather than stumbling on me. How he’s worked so hard to make me trust him. Maybe he and Jen are actually in this together, some elaborate prank to make me say I’m some crazy warrior. I bet it would be an awesome Senior prank to prove that The Waste is completely insane.

  Garrett pats the top of a stool under the counter. There is nothing in his eyes that says this is a joke.

  “Have a seat right here.” he says. “You can entertain us while we work.”

  Whether it is a joke or not, I want my reflection to stay in his eyes. A joke might be worth that.

  “It’s not like I know magic or anything.” I say as I slide onto the barstool. Garrett drags out a chopping block and lays it on the counter between us.

  “You can just sit there.” The shine in Garrett’s eyes sparkles in my head and makes me dizzy. “That’s entertaining enough.”

  “I guess I’ll do the green beans.” Sean groans. I can’t tell if he’s groaning because of what Garrett said or because of the beans, but then he makes a face behind Garrett’s back and says, “I know how everybody hates doing beans.”

  “Everybody does.” Garrett agrees with a sarcastic laugh. I lean my elbows on the counter.

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “How about potatoes?” Sean pipes up. “You any good with peeling?”

  When I hesitate two seconds too long, Garrett assures me, “You don’t have to. I don’t think you can do it with that cast on anyway.” His tone is so apologetic, I’m embarrassed. He takes an enormous bag of potatoes from beneath the sink and dumps them on the counter. “Peeling’s a pain, but Sean and I are used to it. My parents are whole food nuts and with the size of our family, meals are like prepping for an army.”

  “It’s true.” Sean adds. “The pizza last night was kind of a fluke. Happens every once in a while, but usually all you can get around here is health food. It’s pretty boring.”

  “And I’d rather you sit where I can see you anyway.” Garrett murmurs to me. I smile at him as he unloads four whole chickens from the fridge and lays them on the wood chopping block. “Talk to me while I hack up birds.”

  “No, I want to help.” I tell him, sliding off the stool. “Peeling’s fine with me.”

  Except that it’s absolutely not fine.

  I’ve never peeled a potato before in my life. Not in our house, where the stove is piled high with boxes of paper and the sink overflows with it too. I can work a can opener, bread tabs and microwaves. Beyond that, I’ve never had to cope much. Garrett hands me a small, sharp knife and puts a huge, silver pot next to the potato bag.

  “Tonight’s mashed.” Garrett winks. My pulse winks too. I tell myself that potatoes are not brain surgery, they’re potatoes. I just have to get the peel off. I’m sure there is a trick to it, but since I don’t know it, I just do what makes sense. Garrett is right—it is awkward with the cast. I end up cutting the potatoes in wedges and then sawing off the skins, the same way I’d cut the rind off a watermelon.

  I’m on the eighth one when Garrett glances over my shoulder and says, “Ahh. So you’re a health nut too, huh? Don’t want to lose all the vitamins in the peel? My parents would be proud.”

  He’s teasing, but it is obvious that I’m doing it all wrong. I don’t know how to peel a stupid potato. Suddenly, I can’t force a smile out on my lips. I’m tired of being the person who knows nothing. But Garrett, hardly missing a beat, slips the knife out of my hand and murmurs to me, “Here ya go, Old School, step aside and let me show you how the pros do it.”

  He elbows me where it tickles, pushing me away from the sink as I laugh. He picks up a spud and tosses it from hand to hand as if it’s either a weapon or a magic trick, I can’t figure out which. Then he stands in front of the sink, his hands outstretched and he shakes his hair away from his face dramatically. It’s pointless since the strands fall right back to where they were, curling into his cheekbones, as he tips his head over the sink.

  “Watch and learn.” he says. He works the knife masterfully, moving the vegetable in his palm. His shirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and I can visually trace two veins in his forearms all the way to his wrists. I want to run my fingers over his arm and feel the ridges. I have to concentrate on keeping my hands at my sides and it doesn’t help when Garrett glances at me sideways, like he knows what I’m thinking. He lifts a perfect curl of skin off the white oval and dangles the spiral over my head like mistletoe.

  “Ta da.” he says, glancing at my lips. I want him to kiss me.

  “Steak fries are sounding really good.” Sean coughs.

  Garrett smiles, dropping his eyes to the countertop. He flips the flawless potato curl into the sink. “I agree. Carry on, Nalena. You just saved us from a typical and boring dinner. You’re brilliant.”

  I go back to hacking up the potatoes the way I was, but my mind trails off from the thrill of watching Garrett’s hands and I rewind to everything that happened this afternoon. Jen and Regina, Garrett’s attack, Contego,
Cusp.

  The weirdness of it all makes me want my mom. To lean against her and spill out everything that has happened today. I know that everything will be okay, if I can just hear my mom say that it will.

  When the phone rings, I stop cutting to watch Sean pick up the phone. I wait for him to glance at me, to say something familiar that would mean it is my mom on the other end. Instead, there is a long pause after he says hello and then Sean grimaces.

  “For Mark, press one.” he says and pauses. “For Brandon, press two.” Another pause. Then, he makes his voice as thick and silly as a talk show host. “For Sean, press three.” He does an extra long pause and then frowns. “For all other calls, hang up, because Garrett’s taken.” Pause. “Hello? Anyone? C’mon, Heavy Breather, if you’re going to call, you at least have to press a number if you’re not going to talk.”

  Garrett laughs as Sean shrugs and puts the receiver back on the wall cradle. Sean smirks when he catches me watching him.

  “It’s how we have to answer the phone around here.” he explains. “Why don’t you girls ever want to say your name when you call?”

  The front door opens five minutes later, but it feels like a week has passed. Mr. and Mrs. Reese come in with my mom sandwiched between them as if they’re on a chain gang. My mom looks antsy. She twists out of her coat, her lips speeding silently through lists of names. Wherever she and the Reese’s were today, it took too long.

  “We ran into traffic.” Mrs. Reese explains to no one in particular. She comes into the kitchen and takes one of the packages of paper off the counter that Garrett and I had brought home. She hands it to my mom like it is aspirin for a headache.

  “Here, Evangeline. It looks like we’ve still got some time before dinner. You go ahead and get some of your writing done. I’m so sorry it took us so long getting home.”

  In front of everyone, my mom tears into the paper like she’s a starving woman ripping into a candy bar. I want to hide under the sink. Her lips are moving and then I can hear her mumbling all the names and plots, in total loony mode. My mom sits down at the table and hunches over her paper, scribbling line after line as my heart sinks. Whatever I need—whether it is for her to look sane in front of Garrett and his family, or whether I need to tell her that I might be the reason the world is going to end at any minute—all of it has to wait now.