The Suburban Strange

by Nathan Kotecki

  “You should watch pornography,” Marco said in serious voice while his eyes laughed. “It’s bizarre, but it definitely clarifies a lot of stuff.”

  “The things you say!” Celia covered her face with her hands.

  “Well, I’ll tell you this: I love getting laid on a regular basis.” Marco sat back, stretching his arms out to either side.

  “Of course you do! You’re the horniest creature I know.”

  “You have no idea.” Marco bugged his eyes at her.

  “And you don’t even have to worry about getting some girl pregnant.”

  “Cool, isn’t it?”

  The bell rang and they got up. “Seriously, though,” he said. “I meant what I said before, and Brenden does, too. If there’s anything we can do for you, you let us know. And no one else has to know about it, not even the other little black beads on our string.”

  “Thank you.” Celia hugged him.

  Are you there?

  Here I m.

  How was your day?

  Gd, same. U?

  It was fine. I had a nice talk with Marco—he’s the shorter one with the curly hair. He’s making me a dress. Did you do anything after school?

  Home, thts it. Rdng P oa Lady.

  Haven’t you already read it?

  Yes, but yr rdng it.

  I like talking writing to you every night. I wish we could talk. I wish it was easier for you.

  Me 2.

  I still have homework. Talk to you tomorrow?

  Dfntly. Gdnt. XO

  Good night! XO

  "OKAY, IF YOU COULD HAVE one album while you were stranded on a desert island, what would it be?" Brenden asked. "I'd take Cocteau Twins' The Pink Opaque."

  “That’s not an album. It’s a compilation,” Ivo said.

  “Compilations count.”

  “Oh, this is hard!” Liz thought. “Well, if we can do compilations, I’ll go with the Cure’s Staring at the Sea.”

  “I’ll commit,” Ivo said. “Peter Murphy, Love Hysteria.”

  Marco looked surprised. “No one’s going with Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love?”

  “Oh, that is a good one,” Liz said. “Regine, we know it will be Siouxsie and the Banshees, so which one?”

  “I don’t care,” Regine said, tossing her pencil down. “If you’re not going to help me pass Chem Two, you’re dead to me.”

  “You are not failing Chem Two!” Marco said.

  “No, but it’s killing my grade point average. Seriously, I have never felt so lost in a class in my life.”

  “I don’t understand,” Marco said. “You did fine in Chem One. We were in the same class.”

  “But we didn’t have Mr. Sumeletso! There might be a curse on sophomore girls, but I think we need to seriously consider whether Mr. Sumeletso has cursed his chem classes!”

  “But Celia’s doing fine in his class,” Liz said, and Celia had to nod in agreement.

  “Yeah, and apparently you have the perfect lab partner,” Regine said. “Maybe you have to be a witch to do chemistry well enough to pass his class.”

  “Are you saying I’m a witch?” Celia asked.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying.” Regine picked up her pencil and started another chemistry problem. “Ivo, will you help me?”

  “I keep telling you, I barely remember this stuff. And I’m more interested in talking about Celia’s secrets,” Ivo said.

  “What secrets?” Celia hated that she blushed without even knowing what Ivo meant.

  “Do you think we don’t notice all the little intrigues that follow you wherever you go?” Liz said, though her smile made it clear she was teasing. “You know every time I see Mariette in the hall, she stares at me like you’ve told her things about us.”

  “No more than I’ve told you about her!” Celia protested.

  “And I’m pretty sure Tomasi hasn’t disappeared as completely as you’d like us to think,” Brenden said. “Because every time a guy has tried to talk to you at Diaboliques, you’ve blown him off. And some of them have been pretty hot.”

  “That doesn’t mean— Okay, fine, I have seen him! Once! He stopped in the bookstore over—”

  “Winter break, when you started reading Portrait of a Lady? Yeah, we noticed,” Brenden said.

  “What is going on here?” Celia looked around at them. “Yes, I saw him then! But that’s it! His parents never let him out of the house!”

  “You love the bad boys, then, do you?” Marco smiled.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Regine asked.

  “I didn’t know what to say! ‘Hey, guys, I saw Tomasi again, but he’s probably not going to come back to Diaboliques, and I’m really not sure why.’ ”

  “That is kind of weird. You don’t know why?”

  “No. It sounds like he doesn’t get along with his parents. I think it’s been a rough year for him.”

  “That’s too bad. I know you like him,” Brenden said sincerely.

  “It’s okay. It’s probably for the best,” Celia said, just to try to stop the conversation.

  “There’s another secret Celia’s kept from us,” Ivo said. He paused for dramatic effect, and everyone looked from him to her. Celia’s stomach sank again. “Who is your mysterious friend who you visit on the mezzanine at Diaboliques?”

  “Aha! I knew you were going somewhere besides the bathroom,” Liz said. “I could never find you!”

  “I knew where you were going. I followed you once,” Ivo said. “It’s the woman with the fantastic red hair who’s always on that couch by the wall.” This elicited dramatic oohs from everyone. Celia realized her mouth was open and closed it.

  “I can do better than that,” Marco boasted. “I’ve talked to her!” More noises from everyone. “I told her I knew you, and I asked her how she knew you.”

  “What did she say?” Ivo asked.

  “She said you thought your life was in danger, and she kept trying to reassure you you’d be fine.”

  “Do you think your life is in danger?” Brenden asked her.

  “I never said that to her!” Celia was puzzled.

  “I’d be scared if I were you,” Liz said. “I mean, a lot of these girls could have died, if things had gone just a little differently.” The table had become quiet now.

  “I’ve never asked her about the curse,” Celia said, wondering why the fortuneteller would have told Marco such a thing.

  “Maybe you should. She seems to know her stuff. She told me my ring finger looked empty, and that was right before Valentine’s Day,” Marco said, holding up his hand with Brenden’s class ring on it.

  “Do you believe people can tell the future?” Celia asked, grasping at anything that might shift the focus to someone else.

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe in it, does it, if it’s true?” Ivo said. He picked up Regine’s pencil and held it over the edge of the table. “I don’t believe in gravity.” He dropped the pencil, and Regine yelled at him to pick it up.

  "YOU HAVE A PHONE CALL," her mother said to her. "From a boy."

  “Marco or Brenden?”

  “I know who they are,” her mother said. “I do not, however, know anyone named Tomasi.” She watched for Celia’s reaction.

  “Really?” Celia gasped. “He’s a . . . well, he’s— Can I tell you about him afterward?”

  “Sure,” her mother laughed, and handed her the phone.

  “I can’t believe it!” Celia said into the receiver. “Is this because I’m running out of pages in my sketchbook?”

  “Funny,” he said. She had missed the sound of his voice. “I don’t know what changed. I finished dinner and went up to my room, like I always do, and then my mom knocked on my door and told me I could use the phone if I wanted. We made a deal. If I go to some therapist once a week, they’ll start letting me out of their sight now and then.”

  “How did it get so bad? Why did you run away? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. How can you write in my
notebook? I’m sorry, that was a lot of questions.”

  Celia heard him sigh, and she waited. “In eighth grade we had to read this book in school, The Scarlet Pimpernel. Except it wasn’t the original book, you know, by Orczy. It was some condensed student version, because of course eighth graders aren’t going to read that book for real. I was having a lot of trouble with it. On every page there was a jumble of words crowded together, like there were enough words to fill up ten pages. I thought the book was defective or something, but when I showed it to my teacher she didn’t see anything wrong. It took me an hour to read one page in the right order.

  “The teacher couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t read aloud in class, but I knew parts of the story that weren’t in the condensed version. It was scary. I spent all this time trying to read everything that was there, and the answers I gave were right, because they came from the real book, but they were wrong, too, because they weren’t in the condensed version.

  “The teacher told my parents she thought I had a learning disability, and I went to a remedial reading teacher. Fortunately, that teacher was, well, one of the Kind. He figured out immediately I was seeing the words from the real book. I have a different relationship with books. I can only see them as they were really written, not as they’ve been edited. It’s pretty rare, and he told me the only other person he knew about who had this power was a very respected translator of ancient texts—naturally, it would come in handy for that kind of work. Anyway, the remedial teacher explained to me what was happening and how I had to be careful not to let people know about it because they wouldn’t understand. And that’s how I found out I was one of the Kind.

  “But my parents wouldn’t let it go. My dad would take books from our shelves and put them in front of me, and some of them I could read just fine, because they were by English authors. But if he picked something translated from a foreign language, I was hopeless, because all the words in the original language were there over the translation. It just freaked him out more and more. My parents are kind of religious, and they tried to make me read the Bible, but you can imagine how crazy that book would look to me, considering how many times that text has changed, and the other languages on the pages.”

  “Oh my. That must have been bad,” Celia said.

  “It was really bad. They convinced themselves I was somehow evil, and it got worse and worse from there. They threatened to pack me off to my grandfather’s farm. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, and Grandpa makes my parents look like softies. He’s super religious, and he works from sunup to sundown every day, even though he’s in his eighties. It’s like the family labor camp.”

  “So you can only read books that are the original text?”

  “Pretty much. It’s one of the reasons I like classic literature so much. Or at least, classic English literature.”

  “And your parents—are they cruel to you?”

  “They act so angry, but really I think they’re scared. They just changed into different people. They talked to Grandpa, and he decided we had to fast, and we had to pray all the time, and I knew it wouldn’t work. I had to get out of there.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the reading teacher,” Tomasi said. “He was the only person I knew who could understand, and maybe help. And he did. He helped me figure out how to mask the original text so I can see what’s on the page.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “Glasses.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. They’re not ordinary glasses, let’s put it that way.”

  “That must have helped.” Celia tried to imagine Tomasi wearing glasses.

  “Yeah, except now I have to read the Bible all the time,” Tomasi said. “Good thing it’s interesting in most parts. It’s definitely an important work of literature. I see its influence everywhere, in so many other books.”

  “You’re not religious?”

  “I’d say I’m spiritual. But religion?” The word sounded like poison when Tomasi said it. “I try to believe in the goodness of people. Does that count?”

  “Of course it does. So, do you have an admonition?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had five, but I’ve never fulfilled any of them. They keep coming, though. I even got one in a cereal box.”

  “Why don’t you try to fulfill them?”

  “Because the power I have has kind of made my life hell. I don’t want any more!” He sounded angry, and Celia could understand why.

  “My friend Mariette has been working on her powers for a year and a half. I don’t know about her parents, but I think she’s had a much better time with it than you. Maybe you could talk to her.”

  “I have talked to her. She came over here. She was standing in the backyard, flickering like a lightning bug. I had to pretend to take out the trash just so I could tell her she wasn’t invisible and if my dad saw her he’d get his shotgun.”

  “She didn’t tell me that!”

  “She seems a little crazy, but nice. I didn’t tell her a lot, but I think she understood why I’m not as excited about being Kind as she is. It’s different for everyone.” They were silent for a moment; then Tomasi said, “It’s great, talking to you. Not as nice as if we were together, but it’s a lot easier for me than writing in your book.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “That’s hard to explain. It’s like trying to tell someone how you swallow. The first time I did it . . . Do you ever have dreams where you do things with your body that you can’t in real life, like kiss your elbow? It felt like that. It’s the first time I’ve used my power for anything that turned out well.”

  “So maybe it could be good after all?”

  “Maybe. I haven’t ruled it out completely. When I get out of the house and away from my folks I might give it a try.”

  “I love when you write to me, but talking is better. And easier, it sounds like. So can I call you now?”

  “For the moment it looks like you can. Anything can change around here, but let’s be optimistic.”

  “I will be.”

  "HEY, CELIA." CELIA SHUT HER eyes for a moment, then closed her locker door and turned to see who it was this time. She recognized the guy, a junior she barely had given a moment's consideration. Having already endured what was about to happen a dozen times since the beginning of April, it no longer disconcerted her, and she tapped directly into an automatic disdain for him.

  “Who are you?”

  He was fazed for a moment by her bluntness. “John. I know we really haven’t talked that much, but—”

  “We’ve never talked. Ever.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to be nice,” he snapped back at her. “I’m not being a jerk here. I’m just trying to talk to you.”

  “That’s sweet, but I’m not stupid. You think you’re the first one to try this?”

  “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to say,” he said.

  “Fine. Give it your best shot.” She made a point of digging in her bag, pretending to look for something so he’d have to continue without her full attention.

  “Listen, I’m not trying to score with you. You’re beautiful, and I’d really like to get to know you. I know your birthday is coming up, and you’ve probably got some things on your mind, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a long time. I mean, who knows, maybe we’d hit it off.”

  “What makes you think I’m single?”

  “I don’t know, you’re always hanging around with the gay guys?”

  Celia looked back up at him in shock. “You know what, this is a big school. I think you should go find somewhere else to be in it.”

  “Excuse me for trying to help you. You know what could happen. Pardon me for thinking you’d want to explore your options.”

  “Is that what you’re calling this? Exploring my options? Because I call it solicitation.”

  “So what do you think will happen?” He had given up now. “Maybe you’ll get hit by a car? That hasn’t happened
yet. Or maybe you’ll get electrocuted, too. That might be good for you, you frigid—”

  “Hey!” John went lurching sideways, and Skip took his place in front of Celia. “Don’t talk to her like that!” For a moment she thought the two guys were going to fight, but John thought better of it. He retreated down the hallway, calling rude things over his shoulder at both of them. Skip turned to Celia.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sick of this. I’m sure you are, too.”

  “You have no idea,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Can I say something to you, though?”

  “Sure.” Celia looked at him curiously. She smelled his cologne and noticed the way his wide neck pushed his shirt collar open, but she no longer regarded him as a simple jock.

  “I have no idea what your personal situation is, but if you’re even thinking about hooking up with someone—don’t, okay? Just be really careful and you’ll be fine. Whatever’s going on, it’s not worth doing something like that.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” Celia said.

  “Well, it’s how I feel,” Skip said simply. “If you need help, if anyone crosses a line, you let me know, okay?”

  “Okay, thanks.” Before he could turn away, Celia asked him, “What happened with your sister, Stella?”

  “You mean the curse? She was sick, and I guess staying home was enough for her, though I’m not sure that works anymore.”

  “Were you scared for her?”

  “I was concerned. If she hadn’t been sick, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “Why do you think you and I have been around when so many of the injuries have happened?”

  “It’s not like we’ve been there for all of them,” Skip said. “Why, are you feeling like you’re responsible for the curse or something? It’s just a coincidence. If someone gets hurt, I try to help. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

  Celia nodded, smiling in spite of herself. She watched him walk off down the hall.

  REGINE STEERED THE CAR through the school parking lot after she and Celia had said goodbye to the rest of the Rosary at the end of the day. "I'm really looking forward to your birthday," she said, "because as soon as you get through it, I can go back to just being annoyed by this whole ridiculous curse thing. As sad as I will be to see this year end, I really hope it puts an end to all the nonsense. Can you imagine if it just kept going through the summer and into next year? The sophomore class would be all boys in no time flat, because no girls would enroll here. Now you don't even have to come to school to get hurt on your curse day. If you stay home it's even worse. It's relentless."