Gypsy Eyes

by Virginia Andrews

  I lay back on my pillow, a little amazed. This was the first time I had driven my mother into speechlessness. It also made me think about something and someone other than Summer. What were my parents really like when they first met? They never talked very much about their romance or their wedding.

  I tried to imagine them years younger, flirting with each other, going on their first date, liking and finally loving each other more and more. I recalled the pictures in the file drawer that I had seen of them. They did look happier and more carefree. Uncle Wade had certainly given me the impression that they had been.

  When did people begin to change in a dramatic way? Was it only after some event, something that hit them like a sharp slap in the face and forced them to become more responsible, so responsible that doing spontaneous fun things like I hoped soon to do was impossible, even a bit frightening? Or did it just come with age when you crossed a line in time, when you woke up and looked at yourself and suddenly realized that you were very different and, in fact, everyone was expecting you to be different? Some were even depending on you to be different.

  Maybe that was why my parents had those pictures locked up in a cabinet and not on the shelves. It was too painful to look back and remember and then realize what was gone. I always wondered about movie stars who had to see themselves in films when they had just started out. Those people were so different from the way they looked now that they probably looked at the films as if there was someone else acting in the parts.

  And yet when I looked at those old pictures, I didn’t see very dramatic physical differences in my parents. They were still as young-looking as they had been. They just behaved differently, as far as I could tell. They’d had a real glow about them that I didn’t see as much now.

  It was all so confusing, just like my many inexplicable visions and memories. Despite having what my uncle had called my third eye, I wanted to be far less complicated. I’d trade it in a heartbeat to be as simple and as lackadaisical as my girlfriends. I didn’t want to feel more mature. I didn’t want to be considered a chaperone. I wanted to be no more and no less than any girl my age. Was that terrible? Did it mean I wanted to be bad and irresponsible, not see the outcomes, and take risks? Did I want the freedom to make mistakes? Was that a stupid thing to want?

  Before I fell asleep, I thought more about Summer. Despite what I had said to him, he really was far more difficult to understand than any other boy I had ever met. There wasn’t one previously who could prevent me from envisioning just what it would be like to be with him. It was as easy as reading ahead in a novel and realizing the ending.

  Should I try to get my parents to let me go out on a date with Summer? Or should I avoid all that, let my father take me to the mall as planned, but then leave the girls and go off with Summer this Friday? That would be something of a risk, wouldn’t it?

  “Yes,” I whispered to myself, “a wonderful risk.” I could see myself lying some more to my parents. “I’ll meet him. I’ll take the risk.”

  There were no voices coming back at me. No dark shadows in the corners, no whispers floating into my ears. Something had silenced them all. I had no one to depend on but myself.

  And I was happy about it.

  Anticipating the morning anxiously, I pressed into sleep and welcomed the dreams just waiting to be born, dreams in which Summer and I were lovers, the kind of lovers who really didn’t need anyone else. Friends were like discretionary income. We didn’t depend on anyone else. It was almost as if no one else at school existed. With him playing the piano, I did suddenly become the lead singer. His music magically enriched my voice. I was blossoming in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

  The sunlight through the windows nudged me gently, but the moment I realized it was time to rise, I practically leaped out of bed to get ready for school. Today I would dress better, make sure my hair looked richer, more alluring, and wear my favorite earrings. I spent twice the usual time in front of the mirror, trying to envision Summer’s reaction to me, but there was still something that kept him out of my vision, out of my third eye. There was no predicting. He was almost . . . invisible. In fact, right now, I even had trouble remembering his features, except for those eyes. His eyes were familiar in a strange way. For a moment, I thought about them, tried to realize what it was, but finally gave up and went downstairs to have breakfast with my parents.

  They were always up ahead of me. Sometimes I wondered if they even slept, even though they never looked tired.

  My father sat back, nodded, and smiled.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You look very pretty today, Sage, not that you don’t always. Special day?”

  My mother watched me and waited, her eyes full of that familiar suspicion I had learned to live with, to have beside me daily like a second shadow.

  “Not really,” I said. I prepared some breakfast for myself and sat across from them.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Maybe she’s trying to impress someone,” my mother said.

  “Oh,” my father said. “Could that be it?”

  There was something about the way the two of them were speaking that made me believe they had rehearsed.

  “I hope I impress everyone,” I said.

  “Touché!” my father cried.

  I smiled, recalling Summer’s reaction to my saying that.

  My mother smirked. “We’re not in some sort of contest here,” she told him, and he lost his smile quickly. “You get a phone call from this new boy and then dress to make yourself more attractive. Coincidence?”

  I couldn’t recall ever blushing in front of them, but I knew I was blushing now.

  “I can’t wait to meet this boy,” my father said.

  “Do you want us to meet him?” my mother asked.

  I should have leaped at the opportunity, but I hesitated. There was something in her eyes that told me she would do just as I feared, run him through an examination that would resemble a Homeland Security clearance. He would surely flee, and I would be even more embarrassed in front of my girlfriends once he brought the story to school.

  “I’ve really just met him myself,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s necessary yet.”

  “He called you,” my mother reminded me.

  “Maybe he’s called other girls, too.”

  They looked at each other, my father more pleased with my answer. He smiled. “I remember my first crush.”

  “Crush?” my mother said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it much more. I was only five at the time,” he replied, and I laughed. He and my mother laughed, too, and for a few moments, at least, I thought we were finally acting like a normal family.

  My father volunteered again to take me to school. I knew he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Summer, but when we arrived in the parking lot, he was nowhere to be seen. I did see his car already parked.

  “’Bye,” I said, and reached for the door handle just as my father reached for my arm to stop me.

  “I love seeing you excited and happy, Sage. I want you to have the best possible teenage life. I know you’re a responsible person, and I’m proud of that. Just beware of how easy it is to lose a grip on yourself.”

  I nodded, and then he did something he didn’t often do. He leaned toward me to kiss me on the cheek. His cautioning and his kiss did slow me down. I had been ready to charge into the building and seek out Summer immediately. Secretly, I hoped he would be waiting at my locker.

  “Thank you, Dad,” I said, and got out.

  He didn’t drive away quickly like my mother usually did. He sat there watching me enter the school. I looked back and waved from the doorway. Then he turned and looked in the direction of Summer’s car. Or I imagined that was what he was looking at, for how could he have known which car was his? I watched him drive off and went inside.

  The girls were waiting for me at my locker. Kay was holding out a paperback novel. I had forgotten. They all had copies of the same one, Reflectio
ns of a Desperate Heart by Belladonna.

  “I thought it would be funnier if we all had the same book,” she said.

  I didn’t want to take it. Now that she actually had done it, I thought it was childish, and I didn’t want to look childish to him. But I knew I couldn’t refuse without causing a stir. One of them was sure to accuse me of not wanting to take the chance of annoying him.

  “Keep it prominent on top of your books like we are,” she instructed.

  “We’ll keep them there all day,” Mia said. “Of course, he might ask only you about it.”

  I put my jacket into the locker and organized my books for the day. “I can tell you now what he will probably do,” I said after doing as they had instructed.

  “What?” Darlene asked, smiling in anticipation of my saying something outrageous.

  “Ignore us,” I told them. Disappointment bordering on anger flashed across their faces.

  “Maybe this will be one time you’re wrong,” Ginny said.

  I shrugged. “We’ll soon know,” I told them, and we started for homeroom.

  “We’ll all walk by him,” Kay commanded. “Try not to look at him.”

  Walking past him meant we all had to take a different route to our desks, walk up a different aisle once we entered the room. Kay wanted to be first. I fell behind so I would be last. I was planning on shaking my head like someone who had been made to do something silly, but Ginny turned out to be the one who was right. I was wrong. He didn’t ignore us.

  He had expected us.

  On top of the books on his desk was a copy of his father’s novel Reflections of a Desperate Heart by Belladonna. I couldn’t help smiling. My girlfriends gathered at the back of the aisle, all looking shocked and devastated. I was going to laugh, but Kay turned furious.

  “You warned him!” she accused. “You spoiled it.”

  “No, I didn’t. How could I? I didn’t know the exact book you would buy, did I?”

  Realizing that, she lost some of her fury. “But how—”

  The bell rang for us to be at our seats.

  “He might have seen you buying the books,” I offered as we separated.

  All the other students in the room who had realized we were carrying the same novel were looking at us curiously, especially Peter and Danny. I smiled and shrugged at them. Let Kay explain it, I thought, but I wanted to know the truth. How did he anticipate what we were planning to do? Had one of the other girls given it away somehow, maybe talked about it with someone else, and he had overheard? How clever he was not to mention it during our phone conversation last night. He was definitely complicated, just as I had first thought, complicated and clever.

  The second thing he did that surprised me more than any of the others was that he ignored me. I now was afraid that what I had told my parents was true, that he might just have called each of us last night and promised to meet us all or something. What a joke that would be on us. Somehow I would feel more taken in than any of them, however.

  He got up to leave when the bell rang and immediately joined Nick, Greg, and Ward. I joined the girls, and we fell behind him and the others deliberately. I was so tempted to ask them if he had called any of them, but then I would have to confess that he had called me. I wasn’t ready to do that.

  “I guess you’re right,” Kay said. “He probably spotted me in the bookstore, and I didn’t see him there.”

  “It was still a funny idea,” Ginny insisted. None of us was keeping the novel prominent anymore, however.

  “I’ll probably read it now,” Mia said. “It looks sexy.”

  “That will be the first book you read this year,” Ginny quipped.

  “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who gets summaries from Peter,” she fired back.

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “Right. One of these days, Mr. Madeo is going to realize you didn’t read the assignment.”

  “Not unless you tell him,” Ginny said.

  “I don’t have to tell him,” Mia replied.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny said, stopping.

  We all stopped. Mia looked to Darlene and Kay for help and then turned to me when she wasn’t getting any.

  “Probably it means that Mr. Madeo isn’t as unaware of what goes on in his classroom as you think,” I offered. “He has a way of smiling wryly when you give an answer, Ginny. You’re looking at notes Peter gave you and reading them verbatim.”

  “Verbatim?”

  “Exactly how he told you. Everyone has his or her own way of writing, speaking.”

  Ginny looked at the others, who were all looking at me.

  “Do some of the homework yourself,” I said. “Put things in your own words, at least.”

  “You know something you’re not telling me,” she said.

  “Do you?” Darlene followed quickly.

  “Mr. Madeo is going to ask Peter about it,” I revealed. Moments after I had given her my advice, it had flashed before my eyes. Peter would confess.

  “How do you know? How can you know that?” Kay demanded.

  “I see the way he looks at him after Ginny answers a question or hands in a paper or test,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. Peter will simply stop helping you. Mr. Madeo won’t change any grades you’ve received.”

  “You know,” Kay said, her eyes still narrow and dark with suspicion, “you scare me sometimes.”

  No one else said anything.

  They started walking, and I did, too, but I was a little behind them, and my heart was pounding with fear and disappointment. The disastrous result of our prank had put them all in a foul mood, I told myself. They would look for any way to take it out on someone. I had just stuck my head out too fast. They’d get over it, I told myself, but I didn’t foresee it. I just hoped it.

  Summer continued to ignore me between morning classes and even in class. Maybe he was waiting for me to make the first move, but my mother’s warnings were louder than my desire to give in. He was just playing games with me, I thought. I tried to be angry about it, but his occasional quick glances, flashing those deep black, enticing eyes, kept me too fascinated to ignore him.

  The girls continued to be cool to me, Ginny most of all. Everything I said either got no response or a quick monosyllabic yes or no, sometimes just a grunt. I wondered if they would still want me at their table at lunch, but I didn’t have to concern myself about it. I had lost track of Summer between our last morning class and my entry into the cafeteria, but he was suddenly at my side when I was in line.

  “Let’s start the hens clucking,” he said. “That table near the window,” he told me, nodding at it. “Just the two of us.”

  A part of me wanted to ignore him as he had been ignoring me all morning and go directly to my girlfriends’ table, but it was as if I couldn’t turn away, as if I was in his magnetic field, firmly held. I didn’t say yes or no, but that didn’t matter.

  He remained at my side. We got our food, and then he took my tray and started for the table. Despite the plates, glasses, and books, he looked incapable of spilling or dropping anything. Smoothly, he crossed the room, avoiding all eyes, and sauntered comfortably to the table. I followed, my head down. I felt the small smile on my lips and the amazed and envious glares from my friends and other students. He waited for me to sit and then sat himself.

  “It’s always better to surprise people, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “Is everything a game to you?”

  “Game?” He thought, opened a container of milk, and nodded. “I suppose most everything but not everything.”

  “Okay. How did you know about the book prank?”

  “A little bird whispered in my ear,” he said.

  “I’d like to meet this little bird already.”

  “Something tells me you have,” he replied. He looked over at the table of boys gazing our way with fat, licentious smiles smeared over their faces. They were poking one another and muttering sexual innuendos. N
ever had they looked more immature to me. It was Summer who was making me see it, too.

  “I have? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re more like me than you care to admit. Right now, at least. I think it frightens you.”

  “What do you know about me? Why do you say that? And how am I like you?”

  “Questions, questions. Isn’t it better when the answers come slowly, naturally?”

  “You can be quite infuriating,” I told him, and began to eat, chewing harder than usual. I saw the laughter in his eyes but ignored it.

  “Okay. I saw Kay buying the books and figured it out. It wasn’t—”

  “Rocket science. Come up with something new. You’re starting to get monotonous.”

  “Oh!” he cried, holding his hand over his heart. “That’s the cruelest cut of all. To accuse me of monotony. It could drive someone like me to suicide. Would you want that on your conscience?”

  “So don’t be monotonous,” I said, and he laughed.

  “Exactly what I would have said. See? We are alike.”

  Are we? I wondered.

  Most of my life, I felt different from everyone else. There was never anyone I really thought was very similar to me. I didn’t want to be thought of as different, so different that being a close friend to me was next to impossible. And yet Summer seemed to make friends easily. That was one of the things that attracted me to him. I wondered how he was able to do it, to be so self-confident and, yes, superior and still be liked so easily and quickly.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Oh, I do,” he replied, and then he unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt and turned to me to show that he was wearing a medallion. He held it up.

  There were two dragons on it, facing each other, exactly the way they were on the ring Uncle Wade had given me.

  12

  “I had forgotten that I had this,” he said, tucking it back under his shirt and buttoning up. “Seeing your ring reminded me. My father bought it for me years ago.”

  I continued to stare at him, my mouth slightly open.