Gypsy Eyes

by Virginia Andrews

  I asked Ginny now, “Why is your mother making you invite her?”

  “She met her with her father in the grocery store and thinks it was terrible that her mother deserted them and now Cassie has to be the homemaker. My mother said she looked so lost. Why do I have to be the one to help her find herself? Why doesn’t she just go to the lost-and-found? Damn. And just when I’m having this great party.”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “It’s not okay. Cassie is soooo depressing. No one likes being with her for ten seconds. She walks around in a constant state of gloom and doom. She can wipe a smile off your face in a second. I think she sleeps in a coffin.”

  “Maybe your mother is right. She just needs friends,” I said, thinking of how it was for me at my old school.

  “I’m not having a party for charity.”

  “Don’t worry about her. I’ll keep her busy.”

  “That’s not fair to you, especially with how many boys asked me if you were coming.”

  “What do you mean? How many boys?”

  “All of them, practically,” she said. “I told my mother, and she said maybe we need to do what they used to do in olden times, have dance cards. The boys put their names on them and dance with you in the order they’re listed.”

  “Really?”

  “Just kidding. We’re not going to do that. Girls should be able to choose who they want to dance with. If anyone you don’t like asks you, just tell him to bug off and ask Cassie.” She laughed. “See you later,” she said.

  The girl she was talking about had crossed my radar, but, like everyone else, I had avoided her. Now I asked myself why.

  “Use your third eye,” I whispered to my image in the mirror. “If you dare.”

  Later I learned that Uncle Wade had volunteered to take me to the party and pick me up at the chipped-in-cement curfew I was given, eleven thirty. I spent a good part of the afternoon deciding what to wear. I was so good at giving other girls advice about what would make them look attractive. Why was it so hard for me to decide for myself? I was reminded of what I’d told my therapist about the fortune-teller. Fortune-tellers could only predict for others, never for themselves.

  Did that make the world more dangerous for them and for me?

  There were obviously some things the third eye could not see.

  And those things were out there waiting for me, maybe more than they waited for anyone else.

  5

  “Wow!” Uncle Wade said when I came down the stairs ready to go to Ginny’s party. “I pity the poor innocent young men about to be devastated by this beauty.”

  I turned quickly to see what my mother thought. Ginny and Mia had spent a lot of time showing me how they used makeup. My mother never wanted me to wear any, not even lipstick. Frightened of her reaction, I just used a little of the lip gloss Ginny had given me. For now, I thought my clothing captured her attention the most.

  I was wearing a short and silky black dress under an oversize sleeveless denim jacket, my amber necklace and my new ring, of course, and my highest-heeled black shoes. The dress was something I had chosen and my mother had reluctantly agreed to buy.

  “Where did you get that denim thing?” she asked with a severe twist in her lips.

  “Ginny loaned it to me. She was wearing it one day, and I admired it, and she just took it off and said, ‘Here. You wear it for a while.’ All the girls are like that, exchanging clothes and stuff. I thought it looked nice with my dress.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Jewelry, hair clips, things like that.” I didn’t mention makeup.

  “Why do you think what you’re wearing is nice? It looks like you just threw some odds and ends together,” she said.

  “That’s the style for young people these days, Felicia,” Uncle Wade said. “They’re dressing like that in Europe, too.” He looked to my father for support.

  “I suppose so,” my father said. “Fashion changes with every new generation. You remember how people dressed in the nineteen-twenties.”

  My mother shot him a sharp, angry look.

  “I mean, you can see it in movies and pictures from that time,” he added.

  “At least she didn’t choose to wear all black, with that black lipstick, nail polish, and eyeliner, and put rings in her nose,” Uncle Wade said. “What do they call them, Goths?”

  My mother nodded, looking a little more relaxed. She was always upset when I chose to buy something to wear that was black. All she would say was “You look better in colors.” She herself never wore anything all black.

  “If I ever catch her piercing herself or getting a tattoo . . .” she threatened.

  “She won’t, but you have to let her breathe,” my father said softly.

  She turned away.

  “You look very nice, Sage. Have a good time,” my father said.

  Uncle Wade smiled and held out his arm to escort me out the door. “M’lady.”

  I took his arm, and we started out.

  “Behave yourself,” my mother called after us.

  “Not to the point of being boring,” my uncle whispered. When we stepped out of the house, he paused and looked up. “Look at this clear sky, and it’s a bit warmer than usual for this time of the year. Good night for a party. Makes me wish I was seventeen again.”

  We continued to his car. He opened the passenger door for me.

  “Your pumpkin, Cinderella,” he said, standing back.

  No one could make me feel as light and happy as Uncle Wade could. How I wished he were here more often, even lived here, I thought, and got in.

  He hurried around like an obedient chauffeur. “Give me directions,” he said, and I rattled them off.

  As we drove away, I looked back and was sure I saw my mother gazing after us from the living-room window. She looked framed in the white curtains, a study of worry and concern as deep as that of a mother watching her child go off to war. I made a mental note to ask my girlfriends if their parents reacted like this when they went to their first real party. However, I hated revealing that this was my first unchaperoned party.

  “Was my mother always this nervous, Uncle Wade? Even before they adopted me?”

  He was silent so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he turned and smiled at me. “That’s how you know how much she loves you. If you’re precious to her, she cares more, worries more.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  He shook his head. “You’re going to be a tough one, all right.”

  “Tough on whom?”

  “Boys, of course, who else?” He laughed. “You’ll pin them to every word they utter.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that I was already doing that.

  “Just try not to think so much and so hard, Sage. Enjoy what little youth you have left. Once you’ve crossed over into adulthood, you have to work harder to enjoy yourself. Too much responsibility, too many people making judgments,” he added.

  We drove in silence for a few minutes. I still couldn’t get past the idea that my parents were using my uncle to find out more about me, what I was thinking and perhaps what I had done. That was why they were so eager to have him drive me to the party and pick me up. I hated thinking of him as a spy, but maybe I could play the same game, I thought, and turn him into my spy. My earlier conversation with him at the lake gave me the courage to reveal more.

  “Did my parents have a child before me?” I asked.

  He slowed down immediately and pulled to the side of the road. “Why did you ask that?” Before I could reply, he added, “You did look all through that file drawer, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I saw the pictures of two children, a boy and a girl. Who are they?”

  “Look, I said I wouldn’t say anything, Sage, but I don’t like that you’re snooping and spying on your parents.”

  “Well, they don’t want to tell me very much, Uncle Wade. You have no idea how it feels to be in a whirlpool of secr
ets and half answers. I feel . . . I feel like an outsider.”

  He nodded and then surprised me by smiling. “My brother and his wife have no idea how brilliant you are, Sage, but give them time. They’ll realize it.”

  “What about those other children?” I pursued.

  “Yes, they had fostered a boy and a girl before you, a brother and sister.”

  “Where are they? What happened to them?”

  “Let’s just say it didn’t work out. It was before they moved here. They took them on too late and weren’t up to the challenge. That’s why they wanted an infant—you. They didn’t want a child nearly fully baked. They don’t like talking about their first experience, so, as with everything else they haven’t mentioned, don’t be the first to mention it. When they’re ready to tell you about it, they will. Felicia wants to be sure you’re old enough to understand everything. She’s looking out for you. They both are.”

  He continued driving, but I didn’t want to lose my momentum. He was already more forthcoming than my parents had been all year. “Is that why they’re so nervous about me—the bad experience they had?”

  “Probably. I’m not their therapist, you know,” he said, smiling. “They’ll be the first to tell you I’m the one who needs the therapist.”

  “Did you know they sent me to one once?”

  “I heard about it. I’m sure you really didn’t need that. They realized it, too.”

  “Did they tell you any more about it?”

  “Just that you terrified the therapist,” he said, smiling. “Put all that behind you, Sage. Dark thoughts corrupt our faces, crush our smiles, and bury our dreams. Have a good time. What will be will be.”

  “Are you still going to keep my secret about the file drawer?” I asked.

  “I don’t like your not being honest with them, but I promised I would, so I will,” he said.

  Usually, it was easy for me to tell if someone was lying to me or telling me something that he or she didn’t believe, but Uncle Wade had an impenetrable wall around him when he wanted it, so I couldn’t be absolutely positive one way or another. That shouldn’t surprise me, I thought. After all, he lived and worked in the world of mystery and magic, a box inside a box inside a box.

  I thought that was it for our discussion of the file drawer, but I had opened the door to a room full of secrets, apparently.

  “What else did you find in that drawer?” he asked.

  “Lots of other pictures, pictures of people who looked just like my parents, but they were old pictures. Did they both look so much like their parents or something?”

  “I’d have to look at the pictures to tell you. We all used to take funny pictures, dress in old-timey clothes and such. The photographer could make them look like they were taken years and years ago by vintage cameras.”

  “I also saw college diplomas that didn’t make sense. They had my father’s name on them, but he couldn’t have gone to college that far back.”

  “Oh, they’re probably fakes, too. We did all sorts of things when we were younger. I have some of those myself. Next time I come, I’ll bring my old-time pictures.”

  “There was a little box full of bones in the file drawer,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “What could that be?”

  “Mementos of something, I’m sure. Your father is more of a hoarder than you know. He never likes to throw anything out. I think he was a squirrel in an earlier life.”

  “Mementos of what? There were bones in the box.”

  “It’s probably something I gave him, something I picked up at a fair in Europe. I should be flattered he kept it, I suppose.” He turned and smiled. “I haven’t been as loyal to the things he gave me.”

  “I found my birth certificate.”

  “Well, that’s good. So many people misplace theirs, and then when they need them, they panic.”

  “That’s what they told me when I asked about it. They told me they couldn’t find it, and they might have to get another one.”

  “You mean they’re becoming that forgetful?” he asked. He sounded serious.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He nodded. “We’re all a bit forgetful at times.”

  “You don’t forget things. You do that wondrous thing with memory, asking an audience of a hundred people their names and then repeating them.”

  “It’s a memory trick. I might show you that one someday.”

  “Maybe you should show it to my parents.”

  “Will you stop all this worrying, Sage? I’m beginning to worry about you,” he said. “I’m serious, Sage. It’s all right for a girl to be bright and responsible, even curious, but you’ve got to let loose sometimes.”

  “I do try.”

  “Good, but try harder.”

  When we pulled into Ginny’s driveway, we could see that most of the guests had already arrived. The large picture window in the living room was filled with them talking and drinking.

  “I hope that’s only soda or juice in those glasses,” Uncle Wade said.

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t like anything alcoholic.”

  “Oh?”

  “It blinds me, makes me deaf.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “It closes my third eye,” I said, smiling.

  He nodded. “Yes, it would,” he said. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I wanted to be the first tonight,” he said. “Have a great time, Sage, and try to be more like fifteen than fifty.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Uncle Wade.”

  “See you at half eleven,” he said in a heavy English accent.

  I laughed, got out, and started for the front door. A car full of senior boys pulled up behind Uncle Wade just as he had begun to back out. He had to hit his brakes fast. Jason Marks was driving. From the way they were shouting and goofing around, it looked obvious that they had already begun drinking something alcoholic and didn’t even notice Uncle Wade at first. The car pulled back, and then Todd Wells stuck his head out the front passenger window and started to yell for Uncle Wade to back up faster.

  “We’re getting as old as you waiting!” he screamed. I had no idea how it happened, but Todd’s door flew open immediately after he said that, and he fell out of the car awkwardly. The other boys roared with laughter. Uncle Wade backed out carefully and slowly drove off.

  “Are you all right?” I shouted to Todd.

  He struggled to his feet and looked at me. He was obviously embarrassed and a little shaken. He rubbed his knees and wiped off the palms of his hands on his pants. “Yeah, sure,” he said, and brushed down his clothes as Jason drove into the driveway and the others spilled out of the car, continuing to ridicule Todd. Jason said he was always sticking out too far. They all laughed.

  “It was your stupid car, Marks!” Todd shouted back. I couldn’t see him in the shadows, but I was sure his face was crimson. “The door doesn’t close right, just like your mouth.”

  “Serves you right for not wearing your seatbelt,” Ward Young told him.

  They all patted him on the back and headed toward the front door. When I stepped into the light, Jason howled. “Don’t anyone go near this girl. She’s mine.”

  He hurried up ahead of the others to put his arm around my waist as we walked through the opened front door and into the cacophony of laughter, shouts, and music piped through the house on speakers in every room. Ginny came hurrying through the living room to greet us. Darlene was right behind her, focusing like a laser on Todd.

  “You look great,” Ginny said.

  “Thanks.” I slipped out of Jason’s embrace.

  “Hey, where you going?” he cried. “I thought we were attached at the hip.”

  “Sorry. My hip is choosier,” I said, and everyone laughed, especially Todd, who hadn’t enjoyed being the butt of their humor out there on the driveway.

  “You and your hip will come begging later,” Jason said. “Take my word for it. Where’s t
he booze?” he cried, and walked into the living room. The other boys followed, but Todd took Darlene’s hand first. She smiled from ear to ear when she looked back at me.

  “That girl will take a bullet for you now,” Ginny said. “What’s that ring you’re wearing? I never saw it before. It’s different.”

  “My uncle the magician brought it back from Budapest for me.”

  She brought my hand closer. “Are those dragons?”

  “It’s a good-luck ring. Very old. Yes, the dragon of the east, the messenger of heavenly law, facing the dragon of the west, keeper of earth knowledge. It’s perfection, truth.”

  She dropped my fingers from hers as though they were too hot. “That’s too much for me. I’ll stick with diamonds,” she said, waving her own ring in front of me. It was the ring she had been given on her last birthday. “C’mon. Get something to drink, and start dancing.”

  “Do your parents know how many people you invited?” I asked, seeing that it was wall-to-wall on the marble tile area she had cleared for dancing.

  “I told them just my close friends. It’s not my fault that I made more close friends since I told them,” she said, and laughed.

  “Where are they?”

  “At my aunt Dede’s in Boston until tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. I’ve done this before. As long as the house is still in one piece when they return, it’s fine.”

  As I looked around, the question for me was, would it still be in one piece?

  There were many expensive-looking things here, like the cabinet full of Lladros in the hallway and the large landscape oil paintings. It was quite an upscale home. My first impression was that it was at least twice as big as ours. It was a ranch-style house, with a flow to the rooms, the living room opening onto the dining room, which had just a granite countertop between it and the large kitchen. There were very big, expensive-looking area rugs and a continuous marble tile floor. To the right was a large den with red leather sofas and chairs and a very big television. Kristen Gayle and Curt Bishop were entwined on one of the settees, kissing as if they were on a movie set. On the other settee, Mia Stein was sitting, with Greg Storm sprawled out, his head on her lap. The television was on, but I doubted they could hear the music video. Why would they want it on, anyway, with all the other music? Noise seemed to make everyone more comfortable.