“Are you hoping I’ll feel foolish and stop?”
“No, you should do what feels right to you. I just—” Bruno lost his train of thought as they passed Mariette. She stepped backward into an empty classroom, the paper still in her hand. The light from the windows glowed faintly through her. Gwendolyn didn’t seem to have noticed.
“What?”
“I hope you aren’t disappointed,” he said. “If things don’t happen the way you want them to.”
“Have you been disappointed?”
“In some ways, yes,” he admitted.
“Well, it looks like you survived,” Gwendolyn said bitterly.
“I’m sorry you’re angry.”
“You don’t know how I feel. Actually, maybe you do.”
Bruno watched her walk away as the bell rang. He tried to feel the way he knew she wanted. He knew how it felt to worship someone, but then again, that probably wasn’t even love, but the inevitable attraction of a Kind to an Ambassador. Would I even know real love if I felt it?
DOWN IN THE CAFETERIA, Bruno was heading to the lunch line when Marco came in, wearing a shocked expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Marco silently handed him a piece of paper that read, Wednesday, Quincy Arch, 7:17 p.m. “What’s this? Did you get this from Mariette?”
Marco nodded. “I don’t know where Quincy Arch is. I assume it’s on the Metropolitan campus,” he said softly.
“You don’t think Brenden . . .” Bruno didn’t want to finish his sentence.
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“Well, look what happened to Celia. When Mariette gave her one of these, it wasn’t what she thought at all.”
“Let’s go to the library and find Quincy Arch. If it’s at Metropolitan, I don’t know how it could be anyone else.”
“What about Ivo or Liz?”
“Why would I get a note about them?” Marco said sadly.
They went up to the library after they had eaten. “Even if I left right after school, I wouldn’t get there by seven o’clock,” Marco said. They stared down at the book that lay open on the desk in front of them, its pages showing the buildings on the Metropolitan campus. Bruno had found Quincy Hall, which connected the central and eastern quadrangles with an arched passageway. The plan of the campus fascinated him.
“Why don’t you call him? Don’t accuse him of anything. Just talk to him. Ask him what his plans are for tonight.”
“I don’t want to be . . . I’ve never been the jealous boyfriend,” Marco protested. “It’s been almost two and a half years, and he’s never given me a reason not to trust him. No, he calls me every night between ten and eleven. I’ll just talk to him then.”
Bruno tried again. “I’m sure it’s not what you think.”
“Yeah, it’s just . . .” Marco put on a weak smile. “It’s like missing the last stair and feeling like you’re going to fall for a moment before your foot touches the floor. I just need to feel the floor under my feet again.”
“You’re right.” Bruno knew neither of them was convinced. “Do you need a hug?”
“Yes.” Marco stepped into Bruno’s open arms and seemed better for it, for a moment, at least.
Bruno knew Celia would be passing through the new wing between classes, and he waited for her. “Marco got a note from Mariette.”
“Really? Is it about Brenden? At Metropolitan?”
“The place in the note is at Metropolitan. Quincy Arch.”
“Oh!” Celia was stricken. “What’s he going to do?”
“Nothing. The time is seven seventeen tonight, and he can’t get there by then.”
“Oh, God! Is he okay?”
“He says he is, but he’s worried. What I want to know is, should I go?”
“You can do that?”
“I’m pretty sure I can.”
“I don’t know. What would it accomplish? No matter what you saw, you wouldn’t be able to tell Marco without explaining how you got there.”
“I know. But if you had the chance to find out if someone was going to be betrayed, or if they had no reason to be worried, and even if you couldn’t tell them, but maybe you could prepare them for when they did find out—if there is something to find out—would you do it?”
“So, should you find out, and then encourage him to have faith in Brenden, or encourage him to be skeptical?” Celia looked conflicted. “Bruno, I don’t know. Is that overstepping your bounds?”
“Maybe it is. I’ll do whatever you think is right.”
“Oh, don’t put this on me!” They pondered it for a moment, the hall gradually clearing around them as the next period approached. “I think you should go,” she said finally.
“Why?”
“Because if I were in Marco’s position, and someone could do for me what you can do for him, I would want you to do it.”
“So, I should go.”
“I think you should.”
“Would you go with me?”
“Why?”
Bruno reached for an excuse. “Because I don’t know if I’ll recognize him. I’ve only met Brenden twice, and the one time was in the dark at Diaboliques.”
“You don’t remember him from First Night?”
“Kind of, but I’d feel better if you were there to be sure.”
“You can take me with you?”
“If I can go, I can take you,” Bruno said.
The bell rang. “Crap!” Celia said. “Where should I meet you?”
“Just be in your backyard at seven o’clock—I’ll meet you there!” Bruno said, breaking into a run in the direction of his class.
BRUNO STEPPED THROUGH THE hedges into Celia’s backyard at 7:01. “It’s so bizarre to actually see you come through there.”
“Well, we’re going back that way,” Bruno said, beckoning to her. He led her through the hedges into the Ebentwine clearing, where Gardner stood waiting.
“This is it? It’s beautiful.” Celia looked around in wonder.
“Thank you!” Gardner said. “And this is Celia?” he asked Bruno, who nodded. “You are exquisite. No wonder he’s in love with you.”
Celia looked at Bruno, who thought his head might explode. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He glared at Gardner.
“You deny it, then?”
“You know perfectly well why I feel the way I do. You’ve known all along. You at least could have told me.”
“Forget it. We have to go,” Celia said.
“Where to?” Gardner asked.
“Quincy Hall, on the Metropolitan campus,” Bruno said. “Can we do that?
“Finally, a trip worth passing through here. I thought you were never going to go farther than across town.” Gardner clapped his gloved hands together. “All right, go down that way and stay to the right of the holly tree.”
“Is he the one who got you started?” Celia asked him as she followed him into the trees. “Or was it Lois?”
“I don’t know. Lois was the one who told me about the Kind. But I met Gardner first. He’s always in the clearing to tell me which way to go.”
“Is he . . . nice?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I think he likes to meddle in other people’s business,” Bruno said. He saw the holly tree and pushed past it to the right. The trees thinned, and light posts came into view over a path across the grass.
“Are we there?” Celia followed him out onto the path.
“Looks like it. This is my first time at Metropolitan.” Bruno had spent only a moment with the campus map that afternoon in the library, but he unfolded it in his mind and fit the buildings in front of him to the shapes on the page. Across the quad lay a brick building with a passage through its lower level. A barrel lantern hung from the ceiling of the arched tunnel, dimly illuminating the passage. “There it is. With the arch, there.” He pointed. “Quincy Hall.”
“What time is it?” Celia asked.
“Ten after,” Bruno said.
>
“I wish we knew which way they’ll be coming,” she said.
“They might already be there.” Bruno squinted at two figures chatting under the lantern.
“Is that Brenden?” Celia began walking closer, and now Bruno followed her. Halfway across the quad she stopped and said, “You walk in front.”
Bruno obeyed, and when they were fifty feet from the entry to Quincy Arch, Celia put her hand on his shoulder and they stopped again. “It is. That’s Brenden on the left.”
“I recognize him now.” Bruno felt her hand leave his shoulder and turned. “Where are you going?”
Celia was backing up. “I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to look at Marco and remember it. I’ll be back by the trees.”
Bruno watched her walk away for a moment, then turned back to the arch. Brenden and the other guy were in the same spot, still talking. They shifted their backpacks on their shoulders, and the other guy edged half a step closer to Brenden.
“Don’t do it,” Bruno whispered. “Don’t do it.”
Brenden looked around, and Bruno thought he had been spotted, but Brenden returned to his conversation. The other guy leaned slightly forward, while Brenden stood straight, his hands holding the straps of his backpack.
“Don’t do it.” Bruno thought about running over, interrupting the conversation, doing something, anything to prevent the two boys from kissing. But then Brenden would call Marco and ask him why the odd first year from Suburban had popped up midweek on Metropolitan’s campus, and Marco would ask all sorts of questions Bruno couldn’t answer.
Maybe if I threaten him, Bruno thought. “I know what you were about to do, and I won’t tell Marco if you never tell him I was here.” Bruno leapt forward just as the other guy leaned in to Brenden and kissed him. Bruno halted and watched the kiss continue. If Brenden had been unsure, he didn’t look that way now.
Then Brenden pushed the other guy away, and even from a distance it was obvious he had marshaled every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop himself. Bruno fled back down the path to the trees.
“Celia?” She was nowhere to be seen. “Celia?” He walked all the way around the dense cluster of trees in the center of the quad. She was gone. He scanned the quad, but there was nothing but academic-looking buildings on all sides. What had happened? Metropolitan was a big campus next to a big city; did beautiful girls have to worry about being grabbed in the middle of darkened quads at night? The people walking alone on the paths didn’t look that concerned.
Where was she? How long could he walk in a circle before someone noticed? But if he left, and Celia was still here, how would she get back? He couldn’t leave her.
Maybe Gardner could help; he had known Celia’s whereabouts before. Bruno stepped into the trees and made his way around the holly bush as quickly as he could to return to the Ebentwine clearing. He wondered if Gardner could leave the Ebentwine. He never spoke of going anywhere else. Bruno pushed the last branches aside and entered the clearing.
Celia stood facing Gardner. “There you are! I didn’t know where you went! What’s going on?”
Bruno seem to have interrupted a serious conversation, and Celia turned to him with a strange expression. “I’ll tell you later. How do we get back?”
Gardner wore a tight smile. Bruno didn’t wait for directions but crossed the clearing and led Celia into her backyard.
“What happened? No, don’t tell me.” Celia studied Bruno’s face in the dim light. “He did it, didn’t he?”
“He regretted it immediately,” Bruno said. “He stopped it.”
“Oh, Marco! What are we going to do?”
“We’re not going to do anything. We’re going to be good friends to him, and try to comfort him if we can,” Bruno said.
Celia was anguished. “When did everything get so difficult? Regine and Silver were just a stupid high school romance, but Marco and Brenden were the one thing I thought was constant! Tomasi’s being weird, saying people are following him all the time . . .” She looked up at him. “Bruno, I’m sorry you’re in love with me.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he said angrily. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But you deserve to be in love,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. If things were different . . .” She trailed off.
“Who’s that in your room?” Bruno pointed up at her window, where he could see Tomasi. Celia turned to look, and Bruno clambered back through the hedges to the clearing beyond.
He walked straight up to Gardner. “What did you say to her?”
“Excuse me?”
“Before I came back. What did you talk about?”
Gardner put his rake down on the ground and rested his palm on the end of the handle. “I told her this was a strange place, halfway through the woods. And that it is in places like this, sometimes, that people leave you.”
“What does that mean? I am never bringing her back here, that’s for sure.”
“Suit yourself.”
Bruno stormed off, feeling Gardner’s eyes on his back.
16
spellbound
“DID YOU TALK TO him?”
“Yeah,” Marco said. “He said he missed me, and he asked if I could come visit him. I want to so badly, but I can’t before he comes back for spring break.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone who kissed someone else under Quincy Arch last night,” Bruno said, cringing inwardly.
“No, it doesn’t. And I feel better. But Mariette’s predictions have never been wrong before. Something must have happened last night. If it was Brenden, he’s lying to me, and that would kill me. If it wasn’t Brenden, it’s someone else, and I can’t imagine who, but someone I wouldn’t have expected kissed someone I wouldn’t expect under Quincy Arch.”
“I’d say to forget about it, but I guess that’s not really possible, is it?” They walked slowly down the middle of the hall, oblivious to the gusts of students on either side of them.
“I don’t think so. But thanks for listening to me about it. You know, I almost called Liz and asked her to go to the arch last night, but I felt foolish when I thought about it.”
“I guess so.” Bruno gave silent thanks Marco hadn’t acted on that idea.
“So, what if I find out he lied to me?”
“You’re asking me?” Bruno scrambled for a response. “I don’t have any experience with relationships . . . Well, what if he did it? What if Brenden came to you and said, ‘I screwed up. Some guy kissed me, and I feel terrible about it.’ What would you do?”
Marco studied the floor. “I’d be hurt, but I think I’d forgive him. I can see how that could happen to anyone.”
“So, what if it did happen? I mean, I’m just guessing, but what if Brenden thought he was having a casual conversation with someone, maybe a classmate, last night under the Quincy Arch, and he thought he was being friendly, but the other guy thought it was something more.”
“As long as he told me, I think I’d understand. He’d have to make it up to me, of course,” Marco joked, and Bruno was relieved to see the cloud lift a little.
“I’m sure you know exactly how he could do that.” They grinned at each other.
IT WAS BETWEEN THE SECOND and third periods of the day when Bruno first noticed something new was wrong at Suburban. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but the energy in the halls was more subdued than usual. Most students were walking in silence, even with friends next to them.
After the next period it grew worse. Bruno passed a boy who stood by his open locker, looking aimlessly into space as though he had nowhere to go. That wouldn’t have been so unusual last semester—it would have been Van’s handiwork—but that had stopped when Van’s slate was wiped clean. Even if it was the same malaise, now caused by the other, still unidentified Unkind, this time it wasn’t affecting one person at a time. Bruno looked around the hallway. Instead of rushing, some kids were wa
lking so slowly that at times they practically stopped. The lights on the ceiling seemed a little dimmer. It was as if Suburban was losing power.
After the next class it was even worse. Celia found Bruno in the hall and pulled him aside. “What’s happening? Is that fog?” She pointed up at some kind of faint steam or smoke that was hovering overhead. “And am I crazy, or are a lot of people looking like they’re sleepwalking? Or suicidal?”
Bruno heard crying among the subdued noises of the hallway. Everyone looked serious or confused as they passed. “I don’t know. But if it gets much worse, are people just going to start curling up on the floor?”
“I just saw someone doing that in the Chancellor Wing,” Celia said, and sighed.
“You don’t feel it, though?” Bruno asked her. “Drained, sad, pointless?”
“No. Maybe I’m immune; I bet you are. But be careful. And if you notice anything—if you figure out anything that might be causing this—find me, okay?”
Bruno nodded. He wondered whether Lois had noticed it, too, but he didn’t have time to stop by the library.
By lunch there were more people, students and teachers alike, who seemed to have caught the malaise. The mysterious fog had rolled across the ceiling in the hushed cafeteria. On all sides Bruno saw students attempting to console their friends, but the question on everyone’s lips was What’s wrong? and no one seemed to have an answer.
Marco was feeling it. “What the hell is happening?” he groaned, his head low as he pondered his lunch, untouched in front of him. “Why do I feel like going to bed, or just giving up? Do you feel it?”
“No,” Bruno said. “Did anything happen?”
“Not that I remember. It just kind of crept up on me, all morning.” Marco’s eyes searched Bruno’s face, hoping for some kind of answer.
“So nothing bad happened, you just feel . . .”
“Depressed. It sucks. I never get depressed.”
“Are you free next, or do you have class?”
“I have calculus, but maybe I’ll just skip it.”
Pull Down the Night (The Suburban Strange) Page 22
