A LIGHT SNOWFALL LEFT a dusting on the walks, and Bruno went over to Alice and Gertrude’s to sweep it off.
“Thank you, Bruno!” Alice opened the door as he was finishing the front steps. “Would you come in for some hot chocolate?”
Bruno hesitated, remembering Celia’s warning about the Troika. But he was curious about what questions they might ask him. “Sure, thanks.”
At their kitchen table it didn’t take long. “That boy you talked to at Lippa’s, the night we saw you there—does he go to Suburban?”
“Van, yes, he’s a senior. I don’t know him very well.”
“We couldn’t help but overhear what he said to you before you went outside, about how he thought you were an Ambassador. That’s what he said, wasn’t it?”
“He did. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Ambassadors go to other countries; why would he think I was an ambassador?” Bruno thought he didn’t sound quite natural enough.
“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about. Have you ever heard stories about the Unkind?” Well, they just came right out with it. “They’re like stories about UFOs. Some people claim to have had encounters with people—humans—with strange powers, but there’s very little proof, and for the most part the stories are dismissed as fiction.”
Play dumb and say as little as possible. “No, I haven’t heard about that. The Unkind?”
“Yes, and the stories about the Unkind also talk about Ambassadors—people who know about the Unkind and keep their secrets. The stories aren’t well known, though, and the parts about Ambassadors even less so. If you haven’t guessed, we find the stories fascinating, and we—the three of us, including Lippa—fancy ourselves experts on the subject. So we couldn’t help but be curious whether you and Van were interested, too. The kids at school don’t talk about the Unkind or anything like that?”
“No.” Bruno wanted to find out what these women knew, but he didn’t want to risk exposing himself. “So the Unkind have powers?”
“Yes, personal powers, which vary widely. Ambassadors are even more fascinating. They have the privilege of knowing about the Unkind, and they become coconspirators in exchange for small powers of their own.”
That didn’t sound right to Bruno, and he reminded himself that these women were only repeating whatever strange things they’d read. He tried to be the devil’s advocate. “What kind of powers? And what’s the point in having powers if you have to keep them so secret, no one knows about them?”
“There’s always a way to use them discreetly. I’m sure you have talents you don’t share with everyone. Things you can do but don’t do in front of most people because you’re embarrassed, or because you don’t want them to ask you to do it for their benefit, or because you like keeping it to yourself.”
“I guess so. I don’t understand how Ambassadors are different, though. They know the secrets, and they have powers. Isn’t that the same?”
“Their powers aren’t as strong. They are the gatekeepers between our world and the world of the Unkind. And they are even rarer.”
“So how do they help each other, then? If they’re so rare? How do they find each other?”
“The agon,” Alice said knowingly.
“The agon?”
“It is the force that draws Unkind to Ambassadors. Ambassadors are almost irresistibly attractive to the Unkind. It’s like a homing device, but it’s also rather romantic. Unkind very commonly fall in love with Ambassadors.”
“This just sounds crazy,” Bruno said as nonchalantly as possible, while he felt as if his head were caving in. Is that why I love her? If the agon affects the Unkind, it probably works for the Kind, too.
“It does, doesn’t it!” Gertrude smiled. “Most of the time, I don’t know if we’re standing just outside the door of some incredible world that’s hidden in plain sight, or if there’s no truth to it and we’re making up the most amazing story ever written, but either way, it’s completely fascinating.”
“It sounds wild. But I’m pretty sure Van has never heard about any of it. I don’t think he’s much of a reader,” Bruno said, trying to figure out how he could escape.
“We just wanted to check because it sounded like he had. If it turns out he is a conspiracy theorist, we’d love to meet him.”
“Sure. I’ll let you know.”
“WHY DIDN’T YOU COME through my closet or something?” Celia asked Bruno after she’d let him in the front door of her house, and they’d gone up to her room.
“I . . . I . . . Wouldn’t that creep you out?”
“Well, it would if you did it when I wasn’t expecting you.” She looked at him oddly.
“I would feel weird.”
“I can understand that.”
Tomasi came through the sketchbook, and Celia got straight to the point. “Tell him about the agon,” she prompted Bruno.
“The Troika believe Ambassadors are irresistibly attractive to Unkind,” Bruno said. “If it’s true, they probably have the same effect on Kind.”
Tomasi looked at Celia. “The women at the bookstore? Do they really know anything?”
“I don’t know, but it makes sense if you think about it,” Celia said. “Mariette fell in love with me. You fell in love with me. Bruno fell in love with me.”
“Did Mr. Sumeletso fall in love with you?” Tomasi asked her.
“I . . . I don’t know. Ew! But he wouldn’t have told me anyway—he was a teacher! Now that you mention it, though, I do remember catching him looking at me once or twice . . .”
“Lois doesn’t seem to have fallen in love with you,” Bruno said.
“No, definitely not. Or is she avoiding me because she doesn’t want to admit it? I can’t believe I just said that.”
They were silent for a minute, pondering it. Then Tomasi snapped his fingers. “Maybe that’s the reason why every time I’m around Cassandra I, well . . .” He looked at Bruno.
“You too?” They sheepishly grinned at each other, and for the first time Bruno felt a genuine camaraderie with Tomasi.
“What?”
“Let’s just say Cassandra must be a very strong Ambassador,” Tomasi said, and Bruno nodded, laughing.
“I don’t want to know.” Celia smiled in spite of herself. “But if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, it goes along with the agon theory.”
Tomasi turned to Bruno. “So you are in love with my girlfriend, but you can’t help it.”
“That’s what it seems like,” Bruno said.
“Dude, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“But wait, then,” Celia said to Tomasi. “Are you in love with me only because of the agon? Or are you really in love with me?”
Tomasi reddened. “Of course I’m really in love with you! Maybe we should have that conversation when we’re alone?”
“I can go,” Bruno offered.
“Hold on. There are other things we need to talk about,” Celia said. “Gwendolyn has been poking around the library, trying to figure out how she got lost in the stacks. Is that going to be a problem?”
“I don’t think so. What could she say that anyone would believe?” Bruno said.
“I know how that feels,” Celia said.
“So what is the Ebentwine, anyway?” Tomasi asked.
It was a strange moment, having Tomasi ask him about something in the realm of the Kind. Bruno tried to answer as coherently as he could. “At first I thought it was just this supernatural clearing behind my house that’s some kind of shortcut between places. Gardner calls it a liminal. Remember that night you saw me go down the alley across the street from the bookstore? I can go through those hedges into the Ebentwine clearing, and when I go out the other side, I’m in my own backyard, four miles away.”
“I get that. What’s it doing in the library at Suburban, then?”
“I’m not sure. But the Ebentwine is back there, way in the back of the stacks. All those side effects I got when I went too far in were the sa
me as what happens if I stay too long in the Ebentwine clearing—only worse.”
“Our powers are really different,” Tomasi said.
“Are they?” Celia asked. “You have a liminal to travel between spaces, too.”
“Sure, but I don’t hang out there. I can’t.”
“Still, I bet it’s the same.” They sat silent again.
“I wonder if Lois will leave,” Bruno said. “She’s Kind, but everything that’s happened at Suburban has really freaked her out. She just seems completely overwhelmed.”
“One of Mariette’s admonitions told her to go to Suburban,” Celia said. “And Cassandra said if we’re there, it’s for a reason. Lois just arrived this year, and that’s probably not a coincidence. Everything seems to have a reason, even if it’s not obvious right away. She may not know what her reason is yet, but I’d bet Lois is supposed to be at Suburban, so you should do everything you can to convince her to stay.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Bruno asked.
“I don’t know. You still haven’t received your new admonition?”
“No.”
After a long moment, Tomasi said to Bruno, “She always takes my hand. If she didn’t touch me, I think I’d be okay.”
“I know! Every time! I’m just glad it’s dark there.”
15
kiss kiss, bang bang
REGINE AND SYLVIO HAD settled into an icy silence. They sat as far from each other as possible at lunch and in the library, using the others as a buffer. Bruno had wondered if Sylvio would give up on his dreams for the Rosary and start avoiding the group entirely, but he didn’t seem to want to relinquish Celia and Marco. At Diaboliques the tension between Regine and Sylvio was easier to ignore, since they could distract themselves with the dancing. At least, it was that way for a few weeks.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Marco said, subtly directing Celia and Bruno’s attention to Sylvio, who had strayed from the group to talk to a girl who made regular appearances in Patrick’s room. “Regine will lose her mind in five, four, three . . .” They watched Regine dancing, unsure whether she had noticed.
“I don’t know which was worse. Last year she loved someone who didn’t love her back. This year she loved a guy who broke up with her because she couldn’t get him a membership in a club that doesn’t exist.” Celia sighed.
“She loved him?” Bruno asked.
“Oh, yeah, she told me all the time. She does an excellent job of covering it, but she’s still heartbroken,” Celia said.
“Is that why he broke up with her?”
“I don’t know; I just assumed. It seems like the most obvious reason. Do you think it was something else?”
“No, I could totally see him being that way,” Bruno said sadly.
Marco was looking across the room. “Can I change the subject for a minute? You know I need more models, right?”
“Yes?” Celia followed his gaze. “Them? Are you serious?”
“C’mon—I need guys, and right now I only have Silver, Bruno, and Tomasi. Those guys would be perfect. They clearly like the style, and they are hot. And there are six of them!” Marco turned to Celia. “What would Tomasi say?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Celia beckoned to Tomasi, who came over.
“Do you think they’d model for my show?” Marco asked him.
“They’d do it in a heartbeat. For some reason or another they are fascinated by all of you.”
“Works for me.” Marco strode across the dance floor, and the boys from St. Dymphna’s clustered around him like nails to a magnet. In a moment he was back. “Six more guys! I’m going to do measurements with them tomorrow.”
“It’s never dull around here, is it?” Celia said to Bruno.
BRUNO TURNED AWAY from his locker and found a determined Gwendolyn standing there. “Hi. I wanted to ask you something.” She shifted into a speech that sounded rehearsed, with a destination Bruno could have seen a mile away. “I like you, and it seems like you kind of like me. I thought maybe we could do something outside of school sometime. See a movie or go somewhere.” She found his eyes and then looked down again. “You’re really nice, and you’ve been so nice to me. And Valentine’s Day is coming, so I thought maybe you’d want to be my valentine?”
Bruno should have been better prepared for this moment. All the signs had been there. Plenty of times he had wondered whether she would grow tired of waiting for him to make the first move. But he cursed himself for never having thought of what he should say if it happened.
“I . . . I haven’t . . . thought about Valentine’s Day at all,” he stammered.
She looked at him again, then down. “Will you think about it?” she finally managed.
“Sure. I’ll let you know.” He watched her walk away, then turned back to his locker, wanting to bash his head into the metal door.
“THEY’RE AN ODD BUNCH,” Marco said when they met in the cafeteria. “The six of them all play string instruments—violins, violas, cellos—and they have some kind of string sextet. Is that a thing? It sounds like they’re serious musicians.”
“The guys from St. Dymphna’s?” Celia asked.
“Yeah. And they have the craziest names.” Marco pulled out his notebook. “Moss, Turlington, Schiffer, Crawford, Campbell, and Evan, which is short for Evangelist. And yes, I asked, and they all swore to me they weren’t made-up names.”
“Well, I guess they’re not any stranger than Ivo. Or Tomasi,” Regine said.
“Or Regine.” Celia smiled at her.
“But they’re going to be great models. They definitely have a flair for the dramatic,” Marco said. “I know what I’m going to make for all of them.”
“Is there a theme?” Sylvio asked.
“I have one, but it might change. I’ll let you know. Don’t worry—I won’t put you in anything you wouldn’t be happy to wear.”
“How many models do you have?” Celia asked.
“Nine guys and the two of you.” Marco nodded at Celia and Regine. “I’d love to find a third girl and make it an even dozen, but I’m not sure who to ask. Nobody at Diaboliques seems quite right.”
They ate in silence for a moment; then Marco said, “Before, we would have been having some fantastic argument about music by now.”
“Well, let’s do it, then.” Celia thought a moment. “Bands that are known for one great song, and nothing else they did comes close.”
“Ooh, that’s a good one!” Marco said.
“The Au Pairs, ‘It’s Obvious,’” Sylvio said.
“I don’t know, I always liked ‘Dear John,’ too,” Marco said.
“But does anyone ever play it?” Sylvio asked.
“How about ‘Shadow Dance’ by Eyes of the Nightmare Jungle?” Celia asked.
“I guess so. I’m not sure it’s a great song, but if we’re going to count that, I’d say ‘Shirina’ by Moonchild. Everything else they ever did is completely terrible,” Regine said.
“‘Underpass’ by John Foxx,” Marco said.
“But he was in Ultravox, and they had lots of great songs,” Regine said.
“Technicality,” Marco protested.
“What about Heaven 17?” Celia offered. “‘Let Me Go!’?”
“But what about ‘I’m Your Money’ and ‘Contenders’?” Sylvio countered.
“I’ve never heard them at Diaboliques.”
“I’m going with ‘A Way’ by the Bolshoi,” Sylvio said.
“That is the best answer yet,” Marco said.
“What about you, Bruno?” Celia looked at him.
Bruno put his hands out in front of him. “I don’t want to say anything wrong and have you all take my head off.” They all laughed.
BRUNO WAS SURE MARIETTE’S ghost had him in her sights. He was seeing her at least once a day now, always in the vicinity of the science wing, and always with an expectant look on her face and a piece of paper in her hand. It confused him. He knew a piece of paper from Mariett
e could mean something other than a betrayal—and who would betray him anyway, since he was single? But it would no doubt involve an unsettling revelation. Perhaps he would have the pleasure of watching Tomasi stick his tongue down Celia’s throat. That didn’t quite fit the pattern—it wouldn’t be a surprise—but Bruno preferred not to take the risk.
Now he stood at the end of the science wing, eyes locked with Mariette. He had to make it past her to get to his class. A girl in a black dress and black knee-high boots stopped next to him, and it took him a moment to recognize Gwendolyn. She had straightened her hair so it hung like a scarf around her shoulders. “Hi, Bruno.”
“Hi, Gwendolyn. I’ve never seen you without a ponytail.”
“You like it?”
“Sure.”
“Have you been thinking about what I asked you?”
“Yeah. What made you decide to change your hair? And your style?”
“I don’t know. You and your friends always look so nice, I thought I’d give it a try.”
“I have to go to class.” He was going to escape Gwendolyn by walking directly toward Mariette. For once the unknown was preferable to the known.
“I’m going this way. I’ll walk with you.”
“Did you do it—change your style—because of me?”
“I just said I admired you.”
“I mean, are you doing it because you like me?” Up ahead, Mariette was waiting by the side of the hall.
“Is that such a surprise to you? But you know, if that was something people did—change their style to match the person they liked—did anyone ask you the same question at the beginning of the year, when you changed your style?” Gwendolyn tried to keep her tone light, but it cut into Bruno just as she must have hoped it would.
“They did, actually.”
“So how did you answer that question?”
“I don’t think I ever answered it,” Bruno said. “If I had, I guess I would have said that maybe I had done it for that reason, but if it hadn’t been something I liked, really for myself, I would have felt foolish and stopped.”
Pull Down the Night (The Suburban Strange) Page 21
