I then noticed all eyes at the table were on me—even Blaine’s.
“Well…” I stuttered. “I guess I didn’t know if I could do it—I’m not really good at portraits. I could finish this as an official assignment. Is that the consensus of the tribe?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” Sara said. “It looks great.”
The others agreed. The tribe had spoken.
Desiree helped me get set up with a canvas and acrylic paint colors. I got as far as sketching Elliott sitting on the stairs in the center of the canvas when the bell rang.
I stared at my phone for a long time, huddled in the corner of the dining room, focused on one phone number in particular.
Leslie’s number.
The more I looked at the number, the more nervous I got. It wasn’t like it would be a real date. She was Jeremy’s girlfriend. It would be just one friend helping out another, focused on chemistry equations and vocabulary, and not what kind of underwear she had on. It would be innocent and easy and not at all weird. I repeated that to myself as I continued to stare at my screen.
Then I just finally did it—texted, not called.
You interested in getting together tomorrow to study? I wrote. Then the panic really set in while I waited for a reply. Now would be a good time to go about my day instead of worrying about what she’d write back.
Was Jeremy even home, right now? Was he with her, reading my message? The thought of him reading the message I’d just sent his girlfriend terrified me, even as innocent as it was.
Tomorrow sounds great. What time were you thinking?
She texted back! Holy crap! I was so excited I dropped my phone on the floor.
I read the message over and over while I decided what to write back. Something brief, witty, sweet, profound, funny, not trying too hard, understated. And while I thought, another message came through.
I’ve been thinking…can we talk? Anna.
Anna? Oh my God—I thought I didn’t know what to say before. This was the first time I had heard from her since she graciously offered to drive me home instead of running me over. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know who to answer first.
Scrolling through the texts, I could not decide who to write back first. For Leslie, I just needed to make a decision—to pick a time. For Anna, I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say.
“What’re you up to, little brother?” Jeremy said, wandering into the dining room. He looked down at me huddled on the floor, leaning against the wall with the utmost confusion. “What’re you doing?”
I sprang to my feet. “It wasn’t my idea! Honest!” I yelled, surprising even myself, and bolted for my room.
“What wasn’t? What are you talking about?” I heard Jeremy say, now far behind me. “Hey!”
I didn’t stop or respond. Once my door was closed and I had music playing to drown out Jeremy if need be, I dropped onto my computer chair and looked back at my texts. I had to make a decision—be decisive.
My house tomorrow @ 3, I wrote to Leslie.
I’ll be there, she wrote back literally two seconds later.
I did it. And with a deep breath I moved on to Anna.
Absolutely, but now’s not a good time. Can I…(delete)…Can you call me tonight? I wrote, hesitated, and pressed send.
I waited for a few minutes, and then when I didn’t hear anything back, I got up to go grab a snack. Just as I opened the door, my phone buzzed against the desk.
How will I know if it’s a good time? Anna wrote.
I’ll pick up. No excuses.
15
Tablet
I let it slip while talking to Desiree that Leslie was coming over this afternoon to study for our upcoming chemistry test. It felt like an accident...but as Mr. Gordon would say, accidents don’t just happen.
“Is that so? Leslie? Really?” Desiree feigned disapproval.
“She asked me to. What was I supposed to say? No? You’re on your own?”
“What’s your brother think of your little play date?”
“It’s not a play date, and…I haven’t told him yet. It’s no big deal,” I insisted.
“Then you should have no problem with me coming, too. You should probably have a chaperone. I’m in the class, too, ya know.”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” I said.
“Fine. I’m coming then.”
“Fine.”
The good thing with the arrangement of Desiree coming was I wouldn’t have to explain anything to Jeremy. We were all in the same class together, so it wouldn’t be weird. Jeremy would probably try to sit in as well. Desiree was doing me more favors than one.
When Desiree came over that afternoon, I had already set up our work station on the dining room table. Mom and Richard had just left for the afternoon, and Jeremy was hiding out in his room. My thoughts were scattered from my conversation with Anna last night and now with the fact that Leslie was on her way over to hang out with me (she didn’t yet know Desiree would be joining us).
“Have you been practicing your telekinesis abilities?” Desiree asked as she set up her own section of the work area.
“Not really, have you?”
“I’ve given it a few tries, though nothing as successful as at Mr. Gordon’s house.”
“If you can call that successful,” I said with a smirk.
“I didn’t see you tipping anything over!” she shot back.
Jeremy was apparently summoned by our conversation. He got a soda from the kitchen and meandered into the dining room.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Chemistry. You’ve probably heard of it,” Desiree said sardonically.
“I major in it, little lady.” Jeremy flashed one of his overdramatic smiles, which seemed to make most of the girls at our school blush. But he didn’t seem to hold that power over Desiree.
I couldn’t help but feel good about that.
“I hear my girl is joining you guys—though she didn’t mention you, Desiree,” Jeremy said, unfazed by his minimal affect on her.
The doorbell rang shortly after, interrupting Jeremy and Desiree’s playful banter. If Leslie was surprised to see Desiree, then she didn’t show it.
Jeremy left while Leslie got her study material out, but not before giving her an uncomfortably long kiss.
I sat at the head of the table, with Desiree and Leslie on either side. As we worked through chapter review problems, Desiree shuffled her chair closer to me. The closer Desiree got, the closer Leslie scooted her chair toward me, too. Soon we were all huddled around one corner of the table with our scattered papers and open textbooks overlapping.
Finally, while I tapped my pencil against the table in concentration, Desiree inched her hand over to mine.
Leslie noticed because she almost immediately asked, “Oliver, what’s on your wrist?”
“It’s just something we were working on in art class,” Desiree said and pulled my sleeve back to show her the band she’d drawn. It was finally fading, but I could still make out the wolf head in the intricate design.
“Wow, that’s so good. Did you do it yourself, Oliver?” Leslie asked and reached over to touch my arm.
I froze as her fingers gently brushed over the temporary tattoo. The little hair I had on my arm stood at attention. “No, umm…”
“I did it,” Desiree said, jumping in. “Oliver’s gonna do me next time.”
I couldn’t quite suppress a girlish giggle, withdrew my hand, and pulled down my sleeve. “Anyone want something to drink? I’m getting myself one. Yes? No?” I clumsily jumped up from my chair and dashed for the kitchen.
The girls took bottled waters. I needed something a little stronger, so I opted for a soda. When I got back, Leslie had backed up her chair. Her study materials were scooted back with her chair. Desiree had a smug expression on her face that said: Winning!
“Maybe I should get going. I don’t want to get in the way of anything,” Leslie said.
“No. You’re not,” I said. “We’ve done most of the problems. We’ve only got a few to go. Stay.”
“Okay, if you insist.” She smiled at me, but glanced at Desiree out of the corner of her eyes.
“I do. Right, Desiree?”
“Absolutely…fantastic,” Desiree agreed with the tone of a snake.
Our study session continued.
A few minutes later, Leslie’s cell phone began to ring. She reached down to grab her purse from the floor. As she was leaning over, her mostly full bottled water toppled over, splashing all over her papers, text book, and into her lap.
She shrieked and leapt from her chair, with the handle of her purse in her hand, saving at least one thing. Leslie stood to the side of her chair in shock looking at her soaked papers. The fallen bottle continued to drain until there was nothing left, draining off the table, onto the chair, and soaking the carpet.
“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I did—what happened—” Leslie exclaimed.
Desiree jumped up. “Let me help you with that,” she said, moving Leslie’s dripping textbook out of the puddle of water. The sopping papers were a lost cause. “Oliver, paper towels,” she demanded.
I pointed to the kitchen—too dumbfounded to do anything more.
When Desiree left the room, Leslie apologized again. “Sorry I made such a mess, Oliver. I’m usually not this clumsy.”
Desiree returned in a flash, offered Leslie an extended sheet of paper towels, and began wiping up the table with more from the roll. I finally realized that I could move and began to help with the cleanup. When everything was as wiped dry as we could get it, Leslie packed up her stuff—though she simply trashed the ruined papers.
But before she left, she gave me a real breast-to-chest hug. “Thanks for all your help, Oliver,” Leslie said. She then turned to Desiree and hugged and thanked her, too. Desiree patted Leslie on the back like she was afraid she’d catch something from her—like remorse.
Leslie went to find Jeremy, and Desiree and I were left to clean up what was left of our study materials. But I started by punching her in the arm.
“Ouch!” she cried, and returned a swing at me.
“How could you?” I said, upset, but trying not to be too loud.
“I was getting bored. And she rubs me the wrong way.”
“She gave you a hug and apologized to you for attacking her. How much nicer could she be?”
“I didn’t attack her. It was just a joke, that’s all. And I obviously need to practice more, anyway, because I wanted to move it to the edge of the table so she’d knock it over herself. But it was still funny.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny.” Desiree made the “small” gesture with her thumb and forefinger.
Her expression made me smile. The playful Desiree I once knew and yearned to get back was still in there.
Anna called Sunday afternoon while I was walking Frolics, trying not to think of the week to come. I hesitated before picking up, but I did pick up.
“Hey, how’s your weekend been?” she asked.
“Fine. Nothing special. You know, just a quiet weekend at home.”
“Sometimes we need those.”
If you only knew.
I usually turned at the next street, but I continued on my current path. “Yeah, I concur.”
She wanted to meet up, which actually sounded great, so we made a date for lunch—the second half, anyway—tomorrow. She was going to have to make up an excuse to break away from Eli because I wasn’t going to be welcomed into their circle.
It wouldn’t hurt spending some time with Anna again. There were no expectations between us. It also didn’t help that I hated having her upset with me. Despite what I wanted to pursue with Desiree (if that pursuance was actually going anywhere), I wanted Anna and me to be okay.
By the time I hung up the phone, I realized I had walked much farther with Frolics than one of our typical afternoon strolls. I didn’t feel like I was just walking anymore. Something was leading me in my current direction. I was now over halfway to school and still going. Frolics didn’t mind and I continued onward.
When I arrived at Mr. Gordon’s house, he opened the door, took one look at me, then down at Frolics, and laughed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m not quite sure,” I said, which was the truth.
Mr. Gordon invited the both of us inside. I kept Frolics on the leash so he wouldn’t destroy the house. The pristine and expensive looking furniture wouldn’t last long with Frolics on the loose. Intellectually, I knew that Mr. Gordon could fix just about anything with the wave of his hand, but I still would have felt responsible for any damage.
“You can put him out in the back if you want to let him run around,” Mr. Gordon said as we made our way into the kitchen.
“Sure,” I agreed.
Mr. Gordon filled a plastic Tupperware bowl with tap water and handed it to me as I led Frolics out back. I released Frolics from his leash and he went straight for the water.
“Do you want anything?” Mr. Gordon asked.
“I’ll take another one of those iced teas.”
A moment after saying it, a filled glass appeared in his hand. Mr. Gordon offered it to me before taking a seat in one of two chairs positioned around an in-ground fire pit. I thanked him and took the other chair.
“What do you know about Acanombia?” I asked.
“Where did you hear that name?” Mr. Gordon asked, looking noticeably surprised. He had also manifested an iced tea for himself.
“That guy Darius we met in Provex City. He talked about the Lorne Royal Guard and a place called Acanombia.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name. Acanombia is on the highest plane—a large region in the providence of Er. That’s where the Lorne’s oldest standing castle is located, up in the Acanombian Mountains. It’s where you were born.”
I stopped breathing for a long moment. It was one more puzzle piece that I could place on the board of my forgotten past. There were now numerous random pieces all over the board, but not many that fit together, and not enough yet to reveal the final picture.
“That’s the castle I’ve dreamt about. It’s the castle where I saw Kafka kill Cornelius. Do you remember his son’s name?”
“It’s been a long time and I don’t really remember. Though the name Jordan comes to mind—or Langdon. It’s one of those two, I’m about 80 percent sure,” Mr. Gordon said, but he was obviously still thinking.
“Is it possible that this Jordan—or Langdon—is still alive? That his death was just a ruse to keep him better hidden?” I asked.
“Anything’s possible,” Mr. Gordon said with a sly smile. “You should know that by now. These are just things I’ve heard, or that your father’s told me. I have no firsthand knowledge of anything that really goes on within the Lorne family. It is quite possible that Cornelius’ son is still alive. He may be walking among us with no recollection of who he once was, just like you from a few months back.”
“How many more could there be?”
“Several. Dozens,” Mr. Gordon said. “There’s no way of knowing. There could be none or there could be unrealized members of the Lorne family all around. This plane would obviously be the safest place to hide. But most of them are of no consequence.”
“Why am I so important?”
“Because your father loves you and Kafka wants to hurt your father.”
“Come on, Mr. Gordon,” I said, leaning forward in my chair. “There’s more to it than that. How about some full disclosure for a change. I’m ready.”
“You’re ready…” he said. Mr. Gordon took a long sip from his glass and gazed over at Frolics rolling around in the narrow strip of grass. “It’s easy to say you’re ready. Have you been practicing what I showed you last time?”
“A little bit,” I said quietly. “Probably not enough.”
“Enough t
o where you can do it on command?”
“No…not yet.”
“Enough to where you can knock over items like Desiree?”
“Not really.”
“Then how can you say that you’re ready?!” Mr. Gordon yelled for the first time since I could remember. He placed his nearly empty glass on the edge of the fire pit. “It’s not the task itself that’s overly important, though it will help, but what the task represents. You need the kind of belief, knowing, and confidence that being able to perform these kinds of tasks will provide. You won’t be able to reach your father without it—and you won’t be able to stand beside your father without it! He is most likely far above Provex City and you have to be truly confident and ready to get there. So no, you’re not ready. The fact that you survived a face-off against Kafka is an absolute miracle, but don’t count on having that kind of dumb luck again.”
“Why am I so important?!” I yelled back.
“Because Kafka and your father believe that you are the reincarnation of Zachariah Lorne—the rebellion’s original leader. Kafka killed him and you were born shortly after. They both believe Kafka made a mistake and allowed Zachariah to do what the Lorne family does best—what they have done for generations and generations—come back. Be reborn with full memory of the previous life. In a certain respect, Kafka unlocked a certain type of immortality. It is my understanding that Kafka was the first and built the family on that and several other secrets—secrets kept within the family that have made them very powerful over the past few centuries.”
“What do you think? Do you believe I’m Zachariah? Wouldn’t I remember these past lives if I was?”
“Not right away, and since you were given the Incarnation pill when we came to this plane, those memories, if they are in fact there, were locked away with the rest of your memories from before that moment. But no,” he said, lowering his voice. “After watching you over these past ten years, I don’t.”
“So I’m not really as important as everyone thinks.”
“You are important—to your family and friends, to your father…and to me.”
SUSY Asylum Page 17
