Parallelogram Omnibus Edition

by Brande, Robin

  “Miss Halli!” Celeste cries out. She’s just spotted me. Right now I would like nothing better than to run out of here, straight up four flights of stairs, into my room where I can curl up onto my big white bed and cry my miserable eyes out.

  “Celeste!” I say back.

  And shove every bit of feeling I have to the bottom of my feet where I can stamp on them really hard right now.

  Elena turns around. She had her back to me, at the stove, and it’s a much stouter back than the Elena’s I know, but the stouter her body the better, because I just want to run right to her and bury myself in a hug.

  “I’ll introduce you,” Jake says.

  My legs feel like steel beams. I can barely walk. I’m smiling because what else can I do with this face that wants to sob?

  “My mother, Olivia,” Jake says.

  She wipes her hand on her apron before offering it. “Oh, Miss Markham, very nice to meet you. You’ve been so kind to my girl here. Thank you.”

  I can’t speak. I just smile and nod. And as with her husband Oscar, I’m finding a hard time letting go of her hand.

  The real Elena is an excellent cook. My mother and I have counted on her over the years to provide the only real food in our lives. Otherwise the two of us are all cereal and take-out.

  It’s so strange that the Elena here is a cook, too. Maybe it’s part of their DNA.

  “Your . . . muffins,” I manage to croak out. “So . . . so good.”

  Olivia smiles shyly. “Thank you so much, Miss Markham. I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed them.”

  I nod a little too enthusiastically. I feel like a wooden puppet, with some crazy person working my strings. My limbs don’t both work at the same time. My face is frozen in this smile.

  Please, Elena, recognize me. Please, somebody, know me.

  “I . . . I have to go,” I whisper. I turn toward the door, ready to make my escape, but it’s too much—it’s too precious. I can’t just leave like this.

  I hug her. Arms around her neck. I hug her and smell her skin and it’s not the same. But her face is a face from my life, no matter what the rest of the form is telling me. She has been there for me since I was four. After school, weekends, every time my mom had to go out of town on a trip. Sleepovers, nightmares, vomiting with the flu—it’s been her making up a bed for me, reassuring me, wiping my hot face with a cool rag.

  Olivia laughs uncertainly, but still she hugs me back. That’s all I want. Thank you. Bless you. Help me.

  I wipe away a tear. “I should let you get back to cooking. Sorry to bother you. Hi, Celeste. See you later.”

  Then I turn around and run. There’s nothing else to do. My heart is already cracking in a thousand different places and if I don’t run to keep ahead of it, it’s going to shatter all over this room.

  I miss my life.

  I miss my mother.

  I miss everyone and everything.

  Please let this nightmare end.

  Help me fix it.

  Help me go home.

  27

  I am running on the beach in my cowgirl outfit, the sun is nearly down, and all I want is a good cleansing cry, but Jake has almost caught up with me.

  Red is in the water again, so at least he’s happy. He comes bounding out as soon as he sees Jake, hoping for a stick.

  “Not tonight,” Jake tells him. “Sorry, buddy.”

  The dog shakes the water off, and lopes along beside us.

  I slow to a walk. We don’t speak, Jake and I, and I appreciate that. He walks parallel to me, and reaches down to take my hand.

  I appreciate that, too.

  We walk for maybe ten minutes that way, Jake’s warm hand intertwined with mine. I know I shouldn’t encourage him, but right now I can’t seem to care about any of that. All I want is the comfort and the contact. So I don’t pull away or try to stop it.

  The sun in this part of the world doesn’t just fade, it blips. One moment it’s a yellow lump on the horizon, the next it just disappears into the sea.

  In the dark I don’t mind telling him what’s on my mind.

  “I’m sorry about all that. I’m just homesick. I didn’t really know how much. It just hit me all of a sudden.”

  “My parents seem to affect you,” Jake says.

  I laugh, despite myself. “Yeah. Well. I don’t know.”

  My teeth are chattering again. I never seem to know how to dress myself here. Halli’s sweater is still sitting up in the closet, inside her duffel, when I’d really love to be wearing it now.

  Jake notices the shivering.

  “Halli. Wait.”

  He lets go of my hand so he can take his jacket off.

  “No,” I say, “you don’t have to—”

  But it’s already on me. This time he makes sure I slip my arms into the sleeves.

  Then Jake reaches back and frees my hair from its ponytail. He spreads my hair across my shoulders, and even tucks some of it forward, into the collar, shielding my neck from the cold.

  “Better?” he asks.

  My voice is just a whisper. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “Understand what?”

  “I love you, Halli. I’d do anything for you. You should know that by now.”

  He wraps me in his arms. And this time I’m the one who starts it. I kiss him like I never kissed Daniel, like I always thought I might kiss Will, I kiss him like I wanted to last night, before light shined in my eyes and I came back to my senses.

  I don’t want to come to my senses. Not now. Not for this minute. I want to empty my head of every thought, every fear, every worry, every plan. I just want to feel, for once, feel someone holding me like this, his strong arms around me, his mouth on mine, his fingers tangled in my long thick hair, tugging it back to tilt my face up to his, his body so close against mine I can feel his pulse, his warmth through our clothes, I can forget where I am or who I am or what I have to do. It’s just me. Him. The beginnings of a cold, starless night. I have nowhere to be, nothing else to do but stand here for all eternity, kissing until my mind is a blank.

  28

  It’s eight-thirty, and Mrs. Scott still hasn’t arrived at dinner.

  The theme in here tonight is a tropical motif, which seems strange since we’re on such a different kind of island. But there are palm trees swaying, white sandy beach, coconuts falling from the ceiling here and there and cracking at our feet. A toucan with his oversized beak swoops over the table every now and then, and yep—here comes the rain. It’s been raining on and off every five minutes or so, sparkly lighting effects with none of the wet. Very disorienting, as usual. Although this time Red is sleeping through it.

  I’m seated next to one of the other ladies who was at the board meeting, and even though she and I smile at each other any time we accidentally make eye contact, she’s not one for much conversation—with me or the person on her other side. She just sits there sniffing the food, tasting little bits, sniffing the next bit, working her way around the plate. Maybe she’s like one of those poison tasters from the old days. Maybe Halli’s parents are paranoid.

  They haven’t said one word to me—either of them. I caught Halli’s mother looking my way when I first walked in, but after she frowned at my lack of fancy—just a clean pair of Halli’s jeans, and that sweater I wish I’d worn earlier—she turned away and never looked at me again.

  But Jake has looked. Several times. And given me that secret smile of his. It makes my cheeks feel as warm as if we really were dining beneath a brilliant tropical sun. And it makes me wish we were outside again, alone, now that I’m dressed properly, instead of in here among a whole crowd of people I don’t care anything about.

  The only person I was interested in seeing at dinner tonight was Mrs. Scott, but now it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. She isn’t the only one who’s missing: that man she called Jeffrey is gone, too. I remember him saying he wanted to go back tonight
. Is it possible Mrs. Scott went with him? But then why didn’t she send me a message of some sort? Why did she leave without me?

  Maybe Jake really was right about her. Maybe everything nice thing she said to me was a lie. Maybe she was setting me up for disappointment in some sick plan to get back at Ginny Markham.

  But I just don’t believe it. Sometimes you think you know a person, sometimes you don’t. And I just feel in my heart that the Mrs. Scott I met and spoke to—the one who was so kind to Halli—was the real deal. I can’t imagine she was secretly harboring some evil plot to hurt me.

  But now I don’t know what I’m going to do about getting myself to England.

  I suppose I can ask Halli’s parents for the use of their plane. I don’t know how committed they feel to looking good in front of this group. Maybe if I ask them tonight at dinner, in front of everyone, they’ll have to say yes. I’ll tell them I’m ready to start visiting some of the company’s locations, starting with London next week.

  As if reading my mind, the man on my right says, “Will you be coming to Sydney, Miss Markham?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Um, probably. I’m not sure yet.”

  “We would welcome the interest.” The man holds out his hand. “Anthony Pruitt. Knew your grandmother. Wonderful, fiery woman.”

  I shake his hand. “Yes, sir. Thank you. She was.”

  Mr. Pruitt lowers his voice. “Voted for you today. By all means, take your month. Would have given you the four months. Don’t agree with this whole scheme.”

  He sits back up straight and clears his throat. “How are you finding the weather here?”

  I notice what Mr. Pruitt has just noticed: that that history reporter, Bryan, is currently pointing his oversized square binoculars directly at us.

  “Oh, it’s nice,” I say. “Kind of cold and wet, but . . . you know. Nice.”

  Bryan has now moved on to filming other people. Mr. Pruitt drops his chin and speaks again in a low voice.

  “Don’t ever sell your shares,” he tells me. “You hang on to those, just like your grandmother did. There’s a big future coming—”

  “If I can have your attention,” Halli’s father says. He’s standing, commanding the room as usual with his authoritative voice. “Thank you for your time and attendance here this weekend. I’m sorry you all had to come such a long way for nothing—”

  He looks pointedly at me. How subtle.

  “—but I look forward to completing this matter one month from now. As you might imagine, there’s always more work to be done, so I’ll have to leave you now, but you’re welcome to stay for dessert. I know some of you are leaving in the morning, so I’ll say my goodbye now.”

  I’ve started to tune him out, assuming anything else he has to say is just a formality for the board people, but suddenly he says my name:

  “Halli?”

  The conversations all around the table seem to die at the same time. I look up, probably too wide-eyed to pull off not looking panicked.

  I can’t even open my mouth. I just go with, “Hm?”

  “Your mother and I need to speak with you. If you would come with us now.”

  I’ve never liked getting in trouble, and I have the feeling that’s what this is. It was too much to hope that he’d just let me get away with my whole rebellion this afternoon. In the flurry of other activity, I forgot that at some point I was going to have to answer to Halli’s parents, and that they weren’t going to be happy with me at all.

  I slide back my chair, and slowly get up from the table. If this were a movie, I’d hear some funeral march in the distance.

  “Come on, Red,” I whisper. When a girl is about to be punished, she likes to have her faithful companion at her side.

  I leave behind the tropical jungle, and follow Halli’s parents to my fate.

  29

  “Bryan?” Halli’s father calls to the reporter at the last minute. “If you would accompany us as well.”

  I don’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious. I decide to go with relieved. Although I really wish he had asked Jake to come instead.

  The four of us leave the dining hall and walk out to the base of the Grand Staircase.

  Halli’s father motions toward the reporter. “Mr. Stewart here has made a request.”

  “Seems like you’re off on a new odyssey, Miss Markham,” Bryan says. “I talked to my producer, and we’d like the exclusive on it. If you’re willing.”

  “The exclusive . . . what?” I ask.

  “Story,” he says. “They want to send me along. Fly-on-the-wall type of thing. I promise I won’t be intrusive. You’ll forget I’m there.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t . . . understand.”

  Halli’s mother sighs with impatience. “They want to film you. Touring our facilities. Remember? Isn’t that why you asked for your month? Isn’t that what your whole outburst was all about?”

  “Yes. Right. Great.”

  My brain is working at full capacity, trying to think this through.

  Because in one way, it’s exactly what I want—better than I could have hoped for. To have some official reason for going exactly where I want to go, all the details arranged. I’m sure Halli’s parents will send me in their plane, put me up at some hotel, make sure I’m taken care of—

  But on the other hand, it’s exactly what I don’t need: some nosy reporter tagging along, keeping track of everything I do.

  And then that makes me think of the tracking: Halli’s parents will know where I’m going all the time anyway. It’s not like I can just fly to England and then disappear. So I might as well just accept that, and take what help I can get along the way.

  “Okay,” I say, “sure. That sounds great. In fact, I was hoping to leave immediately—like maybe tomorrow, if we can.”

  I’m looking at Bryan for permission, when really it’s Halli’s parents who get to decide.

  “And go where?” Halli’s mother asks. She sounds very put-upon. Like the effort of even having to talk to me is too much.

  “I’d like to start in London,” I say.

  “Fine,” Halli’s mother says. “Alexa, call Transport. Let them know.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I didn’t even know she was there, standing outside the doorway to the dining hall.

  And she isn’t alone.

  “I’d like to go with her,” Jake says, coming over to join us. “If you can spare me, Dr. Bellows. I think it would be good for Miss Markham to have an escort. Someone who can show her around the facility, make sure she talks to the right people—”

  My pulse has just jolted into a sprint. What is Jake doing?

  Halli’s mother and father look at each other. Then Halli’s mother gives a subtle nod.

  “Keep it short,” Halli’s father says. “No more than a week.”

  “A week should be enough,” Jake says, “don’t you think, Miss Markham?”

  “Um . . . yeah. I do. A week.”

  But I’m still trying to process the offer. Do I want Jake there with me, or not?

  Not. For several good reasons, including the fact that I’ll feel guilty enough around Daniel without the other guilty party present. And then there’s the fact that the reason I’m going is to find out what happened to the girl who really belongs in this body—

  But Halli’s parents are already working out the details with Jake, and Bryan is off on a comm call to his producer, and I’m just standing here trying to sort out everything that’s happening. Is it a good thing, or a bad? Aren’t I getting what I want?

  “Be careful what you say and do,” Halli’s mother warns me. “Remember, you’re representing us and the company now, not only yourself. Jake, you’ll watch her?”

  “Every minute,” he says.

  I meet his eyes, then look away.

  I think I’m in trouble.

  In more ways than one.

  30

  I am sitting on a plane.

  A private jet.

 
A much larger one, because we are flying farther.

  There is a dog at my feet. I love that dog.

  There is a guy sitting across from me, a guy who looks like the one I’ve been in love with all my life, and yet a guy I met just two days ago and might be falling in love with again.

  “You think I’m going to let you go alone?” he told me in private last night, after all the details had been worked out. We took Red out for one last walk before bedtime, and talked about everything that had gone on.

  “I’m worried about you,” Jake said. “You need to see a doctor. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you do.” He kissed my neck. “And even after that.”

  I know it’s wrong, and it’s stupid, and it’s not going to end anywhere close to happily, but I can’t seem to help myself right now. There’s so much else in my life that feels uncertain and out of control, and even though this situation with Jake is obviously both of those things, too, at least it makes me feel good for a while, and lets me forget everything else for that brief space of time when he’s holding me and kissing me and telling me all of the things I’ve always wanted to be told.

  Whether he calls me by the right name or not.

  “Miss Markham,” Bryan calls from the back of the plane. “My producer would like a few words with you.”

  I exchange a look with Jake, then take a deep breath. Time to go lie some more.

  There’s a woman’s head hovering above Bryan’s tablet.

  Bryan introduces us. “My producer, Faith Newsom.”

  She has a nice face, here in 3-D, short reddish-blond hair, large blue eyes, and a warm, genuine smile.

  “Thanks for agreeing to this,” she tells me. “I know you haven’t wanted any publicity since . . . well, for a while. We’re honored you chose History 6 for your first exclusive interview.”

  “Oh,” I say, “sure. Of course.” Even though it wasn’t my choice, it was Halli’s parents’.

  “I don’t know if you remember,” Ms. Newsom says, “but we were part of the team who met you at the end of your row across the Atlantic with your grandmother.”