With a sigh, I ran through the email once, pressed send and prayed that Shannon Dalhousie checked her inbox as obsessively as Ade did.
An hour passed. Two hours. I oscillated between stress eating, stress email-checking and then back to stress eating. Ade came home from evening shift at the telemarketing centre dismayed to find empty bags of chips strewn about the living room – not because the place was now an infestation waiting to happen, of course, but because I’d depleted her primary nutritional source and now she had to rummage through the fridge to find an apple to feast on.
I cleaned up. Three hours. False alarms in the form of junk mail from my years-old subscription to a Korean drama online streaming site. I was going crazy. Then at 3 o’clock in the morning, miraculously:
A new email from Lady Pen.
Lady Pen?
Seriously?
I was a mass of nerves. A twinge of excitement shook the breath out of my throat. Taking my laptop back into my room, I clicked.
Hi Dee,
Hey, girl, I’m totes glad you got in touch with me, not in the least because I’m always eager to connect with and possibly even meet other survivors. I’m hella sorry to hear about what’s happened to you… and I just want you to know that I can honestly SYMPATHIZE! I’ve been there.
Some of us just don’t have the luxury to ignore this kind of shit, you know? That’s why I do what I do. I’m glad you kind of understand that. I’m so used to getting hate mail from clueless privileged assholes who assure me that having your autonomy stolen isn’t really “that big a deal”, it’s become basic instinct to side-eye every email I get now and days (and I was kind of sceptical about yours too, tbh). Some of my friends and I have been trying to spread awareness about Bella Magazine for some time, now, but the only news coverage that we got was this morning… and I dunno, if you watched the whole thing, but the reporter kind of painted us as fanatical random hippies with nothing better to do than to hurl baseless accusations at innocent fashion conglomerates.
If what you’re saying is true (that pic isn’t photoshopped is it? If not you did a hella good job, but srsly, it’s not is it?) This might give us the opportunity to get more exposure.
I’m cool with meeting up, but just to be careful… meet me at Grand Central Terminal tomorrow morning at nine – under the clock. I’ll be around… I just want to make sure it’s you first. Then I’ll ~reveal~ myself lol.
Best,
SD
My hands trembled a little when I sent back a confirmation email and began trying to figure out a route to Grand Central. Not out of fear, or anything. Shannon seemed eager enough to see me, though making Central the rendezvous point seemed needlessly complicated; I guess the whole East Brooklyn thing turned her off, which wasn’t surprising since her social justice blog pretty much shrieked “middle class” at the top of its lungs.
Seriously, if she wanted to meet, she could have made it less of a pain in the ass, but then maybe that was the point. Some bored dickhead wouldn’t go through the hassle of getting there just to jerk her around.
It was probably the nerves that made me shake. Or maybe excitement. Once I finished writing directions, I started planning everything else, tapping the pencil against the notebook. If the meeting was at 9 o’clock, I had to make sure I got there a little early, just to make sure I wouldn’t miss her. I also had to assume Anton would have me under surveillance. I’d have to disguise myself somehow. Did I still have that wig from drama club?
“Hey, Deanna?”
I shut my laptop so fast for a second I thought I might have broken the screen. Ade’s eyebrow rose.
“Hmm,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously as she pushed off the doorframe and strolled into my room.
“Um…” I paused to think. “Yeah, I admit that was weird.”
“Porn right?” She looked absolutely touched. “I knew my little Dee Dee would hit puberty one day.”
“Not porn,” I clarified, rolling my eyes as Ade fell onto my bed with her arms spread out over the sheets. Then again… it probably would have been smarter to just let her think it was porn. Damn.
Ade twisted her hair around a finger, raising the lock over her head and letting it fall onto her face. “Come on now. Nothing to be ashamed about. Just think of it as an educational experience.”
“It’s super late, Ade.”
“So?”
“Is there any reason why you’re here?”
“Does there have to be?”
“Typically.”
“Oh shit, now I have to quickly come up with a believable one.”
Sighing, I crossed my legs. Normally, I wouldn’t have minded being ambushed by Ade’s shenanigans, but there was just too much to going on, too much to think about, and unfortunately the Ade shenanigans were cutting into the very important planning-fretting-time I’d scheduled for today. I was just about to ask her to leave when she snatched the scrap notebook paper I’d been writing on.
“‘Take the F-train’,” Ade read. “Hey, isn’t that a song?”
“That’s ‘A-train’,” I grunted while trying to grab it back from her. Ade was too fast. For a girl who lived on the couch, her reflexes were way too good.
“Huh. Why are you going to Grand Central? You meeting someone?” Her eyes sparkled with shameless mischief when she added, “You seeing Hyde off or something? Or are you gonna chase him down and beg him not to go in a big dramatic display of eternal love? Aw, how very B-romantic comedy of you.”
“I’m not even sure how to respond to that.” I held out my hand, waiting for Ade to give me back my train schedule. When she didn’t, I groaned. “I’m meeting a friend from out of town,” I lied.
“Oh, is it Susie?”
“No.”
“Wait, wasn’t Susie the one who went to Jesus camp in Wisconsin?”
“No, that’s John.” I shook my head. “Susie’s Jewish. You know this. You went to her Bat Mitzvah. Why are you here?”
“Who’s the friend?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I dunno. It’d be nice to know something around here.”
Ade had obviously been very careful to keep her tone bright, but there was no mistaking the frustration. She lifted herself off her back and faced me.
I avoided her gaze. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just that you’ve practically turned into a stranger ever since…” She paused, probably not eager to mention my “transformation”. Admittedly, I did appreciate her perceptiveness. “It’s just, you used to tell me shit, you know? And now you’re all ‘cloaked in secrets’ or whatever and it’s like… what’s going on? You don’t trust me anymore? You don’t think I can help?”
I never thought I’d ever use the word “innocent” to describe my sister, but now, as I watched her struggle to understand what she ultimately couldn’t, there really wasn’t any other word to use. When I’d manifested, I’d ended up shattering the blinders we were both using to keep the world of swans far, far away from us. I knew that. But there were some things that Ade would never understand, even if I tried to explain them, which I didn’t want to have to. I just… couldn’t.
“There’s nothing you need to help with,” I said quietly, taking advantage of her distraction to pluck the scrap of paper out of her hands. “I’m dealing.”
Ade rolled her eyes and fell silent for a few moments. Then, “I told Ericka.”
I whipped my head around. “You told… What? You told Ericka? You told her about me?”
Ade fiddled with a loose string on my sheets, looking as if she were contemplating telling me everything. Finally, she sighed. “OK. I left out the part about you being a swan, but I admit I called Ericka to tell her there was something going on with you. Honestly, Deanna, it’s like you’re shutting everyone out – everyone but Hyde of course.” She made a face – the first time I’d seen her do so while mentioning him. “But then, since I’m a thousand percent sure you’re not telling him shit either, I’
m guessing he’s your boy-toy escape route out of reality.”
“You’re guessing.” I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, clearly you suck at it.”
“What else am I supposed to think when you don’t tell me anything? Ericka’s worried, man. Even Dad is though he clearly doesn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”
“And?” I shoved the instructions into my pocket. “Look, I keep telling you guys I’m fine. It’s up to you to believe me or not. But you can’t force me to puke out all my problems when you want me to. This is my shit. Nobody can help me even if they wanted to, OK? So just get off my back and let me deal with my own personal issues by myself.”
I was going to tell her to leave, but Ade was already on her feet. Quietly, she walked up to the door without so much as a glance and swung the door open.
“You know, it’s funny,” she said without turning, her hand still gripping the knob. “It’s just like when Mom died. You shut everyone out and then angst about how alone you are. Irony.”
Ade didn’t let me respond. She slammed the door behind her.
15
ACTIVIST
I couldn’t sleep. I got up at six in the morning, took a shower, dressed. I briefly entertained the thought of stealing Ade’s overlarge shades. Maybe an oversized hoodie would work? Ideally, I could wear both to conceal my identity. But I needed to make sure Shannon could recognize me.
It’d be all right. Even if Anton was crazy enough to have me followed at all times of the day, all his goons would see was Deanna Davis going to Grand Central to meet up with a friend, who I was sure would be busy making sure her own identity was safely concealed.
Shannon incognito would only be convenient for me. No need to let Anton know I was meeting with the swan activist who’d flashed his uncle’s funeral.
A few hours of internet-surfing later and I became too antsy to wait in my room anymore. I headed off. I took the F-train at York to Bryant Park and walked the rest of the way to Grand Central. It was a madhouse. Scores of people – some in business suits, some in flirty skirts – meandered about, lugging their suitcases behind them.
The clock wasn’t hard to find. It was five minutes to nine. Shannon might already be here. She could be watching me right now. And yet there I stood, alone.
I waited. People passed me without so much as a glance. An obnoxiously loud woman chatted on her phone about possible restaurant choices. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Voices and footsteps and suitcases rolling along the floor blended into a strangely pacifying cacophony.
Shannon would be able to recognize me, I was sure of it. The picture I’d sent was clear and I made sure not to wear anything that would conceal any part of my face.
Another five minutes. A guy’s suitcase rolled over my foot by accident, and I nearly cursed out loud. I shifted from foot to foot, rubbing my arms as if I were trying to warm them up despite the heat. But then another clueless soul practically mowed me down, too focused on trying to find his way to notice he’d almost ended my life. It was a miracle I’d managed to stay on my feet.
“How the hell is it that people are bumping into me when I’m literally standing out of everyone’s way,” I grumbled after he’d gone off with little more than a half-assed apology.
“To be honest you don’t exactly stand out, ‘Dee’.” I turned to find a tall girl leaning on the information booth next to me, her arms folded and her head cocked to the side so I could see her overlarge shades. Her dark red bangs peaked out from underneath a floppy, awkward-looking beanie. “Let me guess: you’re a ‘blend into the crowd’ kind of gal, aren’t you?”
My heart leapt into my throat. I jumped at her before I could talk myself out of it.
“Oh my god, Susie! It’s been so long!” I cried, and loudly, maybe too loudly to be believable. My arms flew around her and I almost grimaced at the awkwardness of it when she let out a grunt in shock. “How was Jesus camp?”
Shannon peeled me off her, and I didn’t need to see her eyes behind the shades to know how she was looking at me. “What the–?”
“I heard from John it was totally intense. They didn’t brainwash you into giving up fun did they?” I gave her a simple, friendly smile, but lowered my head, gazing at her through my brow line. Thankfully, she stayed silent, though her frown told me she still didn’t get it. Fair enough. “Damn there are so many people here. Tons of people. You know? It’s crazy.” I let my eyes flicker, just once, to the crowd and widened my smile. It widened still when I saw the light bulb finally blink on.
“Yeah,” she said, unsure but still confident enough to add some volume to her voice. “Yeah it was good.”
“Cool, you can tell me about it later. Let’s get out of here first. Come on.”
After one more meaningful glance that bid her to follow, I took off, making for the exit. I wanted to look around, but I couldn’t let her see that I was nervous, nor could I tip off Anton’s people, assuming there were people of Anton’s around that I needed to worry about. Once we made it outside, Shannon linked my arm and pulled me to the sidewalk, her overlarge hemp tote bag swinging behind her.
“So where are we going, Dee?” She’d said it so casually it almost sounded creepy. Then again, this was the same girl who’d showed an entire funeral gathering her fun-bits before taking off into the sunset. This girl could do anything. “A restaurant maybe? There are so many good ones around here.”
“What? Oh no, that’s way too, um, public.” I definitely didn’t intend for my laugh to sound so nervous. No way in hell she didn’t pick up on it, but maybe that was a good thing. “I mean I want to catch up. You know, catch up and talk. Like the good old days.”
Shannon burst out laughing. “Dude, honestly? I’m legit scared now,” she half-whispered. Looked like she was catching on. “OK, how about this? Let’s go to my place, kay?”
It was better than going back home. No way could I explain to Dad and Ade why the swan-flasher was eating waffles at the kitchen table. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Shaking her head, Shannon hailed a taxi. We got in.
“So what, you being followed or something? You don’t strike me as the ‘gets followed’ type.”
I eyed the taxi driver warily. “My current boyfriend and I have been having some… problems.” It just came out, but since that particular half-lie seemed like it had potential, I went with it. “He thinks I’m cheating or something so I’m worried he’s having me followed. I know; it’s crazy right?”
Shannon shrugged and leaned against the car door. “Not really. Guys are pricks. Guys with money are bigger pricks. I’m assuming you’re talking about Hy–”
“Yes!” I cut her off and flicked my head at the driver. “Though I don’t necessarily like to talk about it so… openly.”
“Gotcha. We’ll talk about it later when we get to my place.”
I was surprised to learn that Shannon Dalhousie lived in a pretty sweet apartment on 18th in Gramercy Park, a stone’s throw away from NYU. For some reason, I figured she holed up in an abandoned, busted up train, or wherever hipsters lived these days. It was a small studio, filled to the brim with novelty items, everything from Foucault to Sailor Moon. The flooring was all wood, though the underwear, burger wrapping paper, magazines, plush toys and internet cables strewn about covered most of it.
“Oh, this isn’t my apartment by the way.” Shannon threw her tote bag onto the bed and followed after it. “It’s my friend’s. He’s a film student at NYU. I’m just crashing until I can secure my own living arrangements, which will probably never happen since I was kicked out of my last apartment for not being able to pay the rent. And I’m sure he’s aware of that so I’m kind of just making myself at home. Hey, turn on the TV or something. Way too quiet in here.”
All of that in one breath.
“Uh, OK.”
Nonthreatening pop music blared in the background as Shannon crossed her legs. “So, you know I’m Shannon right?” She pointed to herself with a
long finger. “Lady Pen? The girl you emailed yesterday? I mean, you didn’t suffer any massive head trauma on the way to the station or something, right?”
“No head trauma. Like I said, my boyfriend is jealous and has money.”
“Money that gives him the financial means to act on his jealousy in surprisingly childish ways. How is it, by the way, dating a billionaire who was technically dead a month ago?”
“Not nearly as fun as it sounds.” I sat on a chair next to the bed, kicking away an empty box of instant noodles. “Especially when he seems completely incapable of listening to criticism without taking it as a personal attack.”
“Criticism?”
“About the magazine.” I gripped my jeans. Remember your talking points. “I told him about how Bella was basically endorsing slave-labor and he didn’t want to hear it. He never listens to me, to be honest. It’s like he automatically filters everything I say through a ‘silly woman’ translator and dismisses me outright.”
“Ha. Been there.”
She was obviously the restless type because after sitting for about a minute, she got up again. Throwing off her beanie, she leaned against the bookcase, her shades dangling off the hook of her finger. It was the first time I’d actually seen her face in person since Hedley’s funeral. It was much more intense close up: thin with sunken eyes, high cheek bones and a strong jaw. And she was tall.
Tall enough.
This just might work.
“So, Dee. How exactly were you planning on taking action? In your email, you mentioned a masquerade party this Saturday. Sounded like you had a plan.”
Right down to business. “Yes. Kind of.” I crossed my legs on the chair, trying my best to sound sure of myself. “Do you have any friends that might be interested?”
“Sure. And there’s tons of stuff we can do depending on the specs of the vicinity, the level of technology, the exits and so on.”
Damn. She really wasn’t new at this. This made me more nervous than it should have.
“But that only matters if you can get us inside,” she continued. “From your email, it sounded like you had a way in. But it sounds like you and your boyfriend are on the rocks. You think he’ll randomly let you add your ‘friends’ to the list?”
Feather Bound Page 12
