They all shake hands, and then I slink out from behind my parents. Clath bites her lip and shakes her head at me.
Once introductions are made, Dad says, “Please, sit down.”
“Thank you. Beautiful place you have here. Trés jolie,” Didier says.
“Thanks. It’s a family property,” Dad answers stiffly.
“I know,” Didier says, settling into an armchair like he’s the laird here. “All the way back to Fergus Mac Fireland.”
“Did Mrs. Findlay or Thomas give you the history of the place?” Mom asks.
Didier gently removes a piece of lint from his sleeve and says, “No, it was Zhong-Shan Li who told me about it, years ago. Even before Caity was born.”
I watch my parents go white. My mouth dries up.
“I don’t understand,” Mom says.
Didier looks right at me. “Caity, I am a member of The Council of 13:20.”
“No!” I say, shaking my head. “No! There’s no way. You’re totally not Council material.”
He laughs. “What proof do you need?” he asks, remaining completely calm while the rest of us look like we’re going to crack. “What can I tell you?”
“But you were livid about the Mayan calendar email! You used the words ‘cease and desist’ and said it was dangerous!”
“How else was I going to get those blasé kids to look into it? I’ll bet my little rant up on that stage drove traffic to the site like you never would have had otherwise.”
I’m not sure why I don’t want to believe him. He’s too slick, too much like Claude D’Aubigne.
“Would it help if I named the other members?” Didier asks. “Bolon, Apari, Tawa, Chasca … ”
“What tribe could you possibly represent? Aren’t you, like, French?”
“I’m from a very old Pictish tribe, right here in ancient Scotland. You see, the Gauls in France were all descendents from Ireland, Scotland, and Britain.”
“Okay, then where are The Council headquarters?” I ask.
“The Muchuchumil Import building in San Francisco, and Atala in—well, I shan’t disclose where.”
“You just mentioned Atala in front of everyone—even Clath!” I say.
He looks over at her, her eyes wide and mouth half open, and says, “She’s too dazed to remember. She thinks I’m here to expel you for leaving her in Palenque with no warning.”
“I can still hear you, Didier!” Clath shouts. “I haven’t gone deaf. I just have no idea what you two are talking about!”
“Why are you here?” I ask Didier, still not sure if I buy his story. Is he posing as part of The Council to get to us?
“I am here to give you something,” he says. “Something quite large and quite valuable.”
My parents both look at me. I can only shrug; I’m as confused as they are.
He pulls out what looks like a large jewelry box from his briefcase. When he opens it, I see an oversized golden key with the La Escuela Bohemia spark on the end like a big sunburst.
“Et voilà!” he says as he hands the key to me. “La Escuela Bohemia is yours.”
All four of us say, “What?” at the same time.
“The school is yours,” he repeats. “This has always been part of the plan.”
I hold the heavy golden key on my lap. I can’t really understand what’s going on.
“Can we back up for a minute?” I say. “This makes no sense. If The Council really runs the school, why are the children of the very people who make up the Shadow Government all at La Escuela Bohemia?”
“We think it makes perfect sense. It has been both a way to keep tabs on what the Shadow Government was up to—you would not believe how openly these people talk at school events when they are bragging to each other—and to try to show their children the world. To open them up to a new way of thinking. Of course, the latter rarely worked.”
“I don’t get how you could draw in the right kids.”
“When money and power is all that matters to a person, then they will go looking to flaunt it. All we had to do was create an exclusive school, price it higher than any other in the world, and we knew they would come in droves. And they did.”
“And of course it was no coincidence that I wanted to go there.”
“You needed to go there. It was the only school that would allow you to travel, to be free to do what you needed to do.”
“But why are you giving it to me?”
“So you can use it to teach the modern applications of the ancient mysteries. Use it to further the information in the Sanskrit books. The Council is at your service, as you need teachers. Bring in the powerful indigenous kids; let them have a place of their own where they can learn the ways of their ancestors who knew the truth. The young must lead the young—Siga la Chispa!” Didier says, fist pumping.
I want to be all “Follow the Spark!” but I just don’t see how it will work. “Those kids don’t have any money; there’s no way they could afford La Escuela Bohemia,” I say.
“You could teach a thousand students for a hundred more years and still not run out of money. We have been given so much by these families. In addition to endowments of money, we’ve built archives of jewelry, clothing, art, and furniture that have been donated to the school. It’s astounding, really.”
“Didier, you really have a lot to explain,” Clath says, so mad she’s shaking as if she has Parkinson’s.
“Professor Clath, you will be Caity’s grounding force. Her top counsel and head teacher.”
Clath tries not to look pleased, but is no good at it.
Mom holds up her hands. “Let’s all just hold on here a moment. You can’t just walk in and give my child a school. A school full of money and other people’s property—not to mention other people’s children!”
“If you feel more comfortable running the school, then so be it,” Didier says. “You both have PhDs. Seems perfectly reasonable.”
“Oh, come on!” Dad says. “This is nonsense. She has to decline the gift. Really, it’s absurd.”
For some reason, Dad wanting me to reject it makes me want it even more. “Justine and I did really love the school,” I say. “And it would be the perfect place to start research on the Sanskrit information.”
Dad looks at Mom. “What’s this Sanskrit information you two keep talking about?”
“You haven’t told him yet?” Didier asks. I shake my head. He turns to them to explain. “In Palenque, Caity was given two books written by Nine Unknown Men. The Council had been guarding the books for centuries. Full of information on technology that could change the world, these books had been hidden away until the shift happened and the Shadow Government could not corrupt this information.”
“And what did you do with the books?” Clath asks, clearly tempted to see them.
“I sent them with Justine to Princeton. Tenzo translated them, and then I … well, I sent the information out to kids all over the world.”
“I assure you this was against the better judgment of Bolon and The Council in the beginning,” Didier says. “But now we all admit it was a brave and powerful move.”
“Wait! Are you saying you’re responsible for getting those nine brilliant pieces of technology out?” Clath asks me. “Academic bulletin boards have been abuzz about this—there could be some real merit there!”
Didier and I look at each other and smile. “Yes, Clath, it’s quite true,” he says. “Caity, you have no idea how the work you have done in just the past few weeks has changed the course of the future for all young people. The shift has begun, in a monumental way—the Shadow Government has been exposed and we are on our way to true freedom.”
Clath looks at my parents. “You know, I must tell you that I underestimated your daughter and Justine, but their work has proved to be of exceptional quality. You should see the paper they wrote decoding the Three Hares and how it relates to the Flower of Life.”
“Wait until you see what we have to say about the Tomb of Pa
cal,” I whisper to her. “It’s gonna blow your mind!”
“We’ve been quite surprised ourselves,” Mom replies.
“You see, this is just the beginning. The tones, the coherence, the unity. The old ways are breaking down.” Didier smoothes the thigh of his perfectly pressed pant with his long, elegant hand. “But I’m sure you must be overwhelmed. I think the best thing to do is to get a good night’s sleep and talk about all of this in the morning.”
Unable to truly process any of what just happened, I absolutely agree.
FORTY-THREE
Taken away to a dreamless place, I sleep for almost fourteen hours. Even after I wake up, I just roll over and burrow deeper into my pillow, enjoying the absolute pleasure of being in bed—not in a plane or a train or a dingy motel or a gold-lined room deep beneath a pyramid. I doze like that for another couple of hours, coming in and out of consciousness, every time reminding myself how lucky I am to still be alive.
Sometime after noon, Mrs. Findlay delivers a tray of food. Mr. Papers follows her, clutching a small package.
“A parcel came for you whilst you were gone,” she says as she sets the tray on a corner of the bed. “Papers, be a good boy and hand it over!”
Mr. Papers jumps up on the bed with me and butts his small head against mine. Mrs. Findlay must have bathed him and washed his clothes, because he’s looking and smelling nicer than he has in a while.
I reach for the package, but he shakes his head and puts it behind his back. Then he looks at Mrs. Findlay and motions for her to leave.
“So that’s the thanks I get for all I’ve done for you, you wee scoundrel!” she says, turning on her heel to leave.
I prop myself up in bed and pour a steaming cup of tea. “Okay, let’s see it,” I say.
He inches over slowly, holding the package out in front of him as if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held. Then he hands it to me.
I recognize the handwriting immediately: Uncle Li.
I gasp a little and Mr. Papers comes over and nestles in beside me to comfort me.
The post date on the package is just days ago. He must have had this triggered to send if he didn’t report in, just as he had done with his email.
Slowly removing the tape from the brown wrapper, I take a deep breath. The paper opens up to reveal a box about the size of my hand, with a folded note on top of it. I open the note first.
Dear Caity–
If you are receiving this, then I am gone for now. You and I have been connected for hundreds of lifetimes, and will be for many more. We have learned much from each other, and that will never stop.
In this box is a very old symbol, the Ouroboros or Serpent’s Coil. This snake eating its tail represents the constant state of creation and destruction and the spin of all things. In creating this symbol, the ancients were inspired by the Milky Way. In Egypt, where this symbol goes back nearly 4,000 years, it’s found encircling the words ALL IS ONE. They knew that we are all just vibrations, spinning in time with one another and connected in a sea of energy.
You have made me proud. You have held true to your path. And I’m sure you will continue to light the way. The death of Seven Macaw cannot be far off.
You will soon get a call from Monsieur Didier. Please consider his offer very carefully. Though it will be quite a surprise, it may be the way to the greatest good.
Always yours,
Uncle Li
Mr. Papers uses the napkin on the tray to dry my eyes. I take a big sip of tea to unclench my throat and then open the box.
Inside is a gold pendant, an ancient-looking ouroboros. The eye is a faceted pink stone that gleams as it picks up the light. I slip the long, gold chain over my head and around my neck. As I put my hand over the snake, it instantly picks up the heat from my body and feels warm to the touch.
When I hear my parents knocking at the door, I tuck it under my T-shirt. Mom and Dad come in and stand at my bedside like I’m a patient in the hospital. Both of them look older, more worn out.
“Well,” Mom starts, “your dad and I have done a lot of thinking about—”
I hold up my hands to stop her. “Please, please. I know you guys don’t owe me anything after all the havoc I’ve caused, but please, I beg you, can we just not talk about this for one day? Please?”
Dad jumps in and says, “But we were going to say we’re warming—”
I put my hands over my ears like a child and say, “Lalalalalalalal!” until I see them smile. When I put my hands down, Mom says, “You really don’t want to—”
I plug them again and say loudly, “I’m not taking my hands down until you promise!”
They both raise their hands as if taking an oath.
“Fine, Caity. Have one day off with your little friend here,” Dad says. “Clath and Didier have been talking with Thomas all morning, going over the Sanskrit material. I suppose if this school has been around for decades, one more day won’t make much difference.”
“Thanks. I just need to pretend life is normal for, like, twelve hours.”
“And normal means having tea in a curtained bed with a monkey?” Mom asks.
She has a point.
Dad leans over and kisses my forehead. “Until tomorrow,” he says.
Once they leave, I eat every item on my tray, including the garnish, and roll back over, fully intending to sleep for another fourteen hours. I get a pretty good run at it until I wake up to pebbles striking the windowpane.
Opening the window and leaning down, I see Alex standing there in the violet dusk. He motions with his hand for me to come down.
I flash my hands twice to say “Twenty minutes” and then rush to the shower. I can’t even remember the last shower I had—was it in Chiapas? That dingy motel by the airport? My hair is a greasy mess.
Quickly undressing in the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The way I had been sleeping pressed the ouroboros onto my chest and made a perfect impression of it right over my heart, which its dazzling gold twin now hangs next to.
I do the best I can with the minutes I have in the shower, then dress quickly and head downstairs. My parents, Didier, and Clath are all in the parlor with a roaring fire.
I’m able to slip out a side door undetected by all but Mr. Papers, who follows me into the moonless night.
Alex leads me to the side of the tower that can’t be seen from the castle. We sit on the small stone bench there, close together but not actually touching. Then Alex takes my hand.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply.
We sit there for a few tense moments.
It’s really uncomfortable to have been through so much with someone, yet to have there be this weird intimacy wall up.
Does he feel the same way I do? Is he only holding it back because my parents have been around this whole time? If I can take down the Fraternitas, why can’t I tell this boy how I feel?
I decide to do it, to tell him.
“Alex, I have to be honest,” I begin. It helps that it’s dark and I can hardly see his face—it’s the perfect format for a confession. “I can’t pretend that I’m just a friend, or a friend who gets kisses now and then. I can’t sit back and hope it happens, because I’ve learned that we have to take responsibility for what we want. I’m tall and kind of gangly and not what you’d see in a magazine, but I have heart-stopping, mind-melting, palm-sweating feelings for you. And I can’t pretend otherwise.”
His hand holds tight to mine. “Good, because I can’t either. You have no idea who you are, Caity. No idea how incredible you are. I feel like I’ve just made some kind of massive discovery, like I’ve unearthed this treasure and I’m afraid to show anyone because they’ll take it away from me. I can’t believe that no boy has stolen you away.”
I laugh. “I’ve been waiting to be discovered my whole life.”
He puts his hand on my chin, and pulls me in. I can feel the heat coming from his face, that’s how close we are. I t
hink he’s going to kiss me, but instead he looks right into my eyes and says, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
It’s a cold, clear night and the wind carries just a trace of moist sea air. Alex takes my hand and we duck through the tiny door to the inside staircase and climb the rough stairs, Mr. Papers leading the way. At the top of the tower, we find ourselves under an umbrella of stars. There, in the middle of the floor, is a sleeping bag spread out on the stone floor.
“After you,” he says.
I scrunch myself into the bag and then Alex does the same. In order for us both to fit, he has to put his arm behind my head. I nestle into the crook of his shoulder as he wiggles the zipper shut. Mr. Papers wedges himself between our legs, curling up tightly.
We gaze up at the sky. I don’t know where to start looking—it’s a mess of stars like I’ve never seen before. There seems to be no black space whatsoever. It’s like being at a buffet and not knowing what to choose first.
“It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. How do we make sense of this?” I wonder out loud.
“We don’t,” he says. “Remember—it makes sense of us.”
“You know what today is?” I ask.
“Aye, of course. It’s Six Chuen.”
“Aye,” I reply. “Chuen, the Monkey, the weaver of time. A good day for new beginnings and discovery.”
“And Six, which represents Flow. As in the frequency that helps long-range projects come to pass.”
“A good omen, I think.” I want to tell him about La Escuela Bohemia, about what Didier has given me, but I just don’t have the energy right now. It’s too lovely just lying here in the dark with the pulsing sound of crickets and frogs.
For a moment I let myself imagine Alex, Justine, and me running La Escuela Bohemia. Kids from all over the world learning about ancient mysteries and modern science all at once, unearthing the old myths and looking at them in a new light, putting an end to the corruption of power. Most of all, helping make sure that this shift happens, that the Feathered Serpent will rise and spin in all of us.
I inhale deeply and then exhale, trying to feel the universe inside of me, feel me inside of the universe.
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