Clarity Castle

by Marie-Hélène Lebeault

  A quick scroll through my social media showed no urgent posts or messages. I checked my planner and looked for things I could expect to do better at than I had in the past. I saw nothing pressing, other than it was a Thursday.

  Mom picked me up from school as we went out to lunch with Nana every week, when she’s around. Nana lived in a home for active seniors. That’s not a euphemism. The place was amazing. It had a gym, an indoor pool with a hot tub and a sauna, a full-service restaurant that offered room service, a cafe with an outdoor patio, an outdoor pool and hot tub, two tennis courts, and it was right off the golf course. Nana was never home. She was either using the on-site amenities, participating in group classes and excursions, or travelling to exotic destinations.

  I wanted to have Nana’s life when I was older! Heck, I’d like to get half as many things done in a day as she did. Today, she was telling us about an eighteen-day tour of Morocco she registered for. It left in a week. It started in Casablanca and ended in Marrakesh, and included a ride through the desert on camelback. Mom was a little worried, but Nana told her it’s a seniors’ tour. What could go wrong? Indeed. The truth was Nana always had amazing trips and nothing ever went wrong other than the occasional delayed luggage.

  My grandmother was loaded. She could afford first-class everything and she was taking advantage of it. It wasn’t always like this. She and Grandad had a restaurant here in town and it had kept them very busy. When he had died, Nana couldn’t imagine spending her days there without him. Neither Mom nor Uncle Riley—he was a big city lawyer—had wanted anything to do with it.

  When an offer had come, she had taken it. It was worth a lot more than what they had estimated, mostly because it had been on land a developer had been eyeing for a bigger project. She had felt bad for the employees who would likely lose their jobs, but the developer had said it would take another year before he needed to close it down. He had promised to relocate the employees to his other businesses if they wanted.

  That had settled and she had promptly put the house on the market. It had been too much upkeep and there had been too many reminders of Grandad. It too had sold quickly. It was the perfect house for a family, near a school and a playground and large enough to accommodate three or four kids.

  With the restaurant, Nana and Granddad had hardly ever taken vacations. They had been chained to it, often working seven days a week once Mom and Riley had been off to college. You would think they would have worked less as they got older, but they had said it was their baby, the one that would never leave them.

  I had never complained about it because, in addition to paying for Mom’s and Riley’s educations, they had put money aside for mine and my cousins’. Riley’s kids were older than me. Chase was finishing high school this year and I heard he wanted to become a sports agent. He had the name for it. Evan was in his second year of law school. He planned to join his dad’s firm. They did entertainment and sports law, very snazzy and very snooty. We weren’t close.

  When they dropped me off at school, Nana hugged me and squeezed a five-dollar bill in my hand with a wink. I winked back and slipped it into my jeans. Our little secret.

  * * *

  The last time I had been this excited about going to bed had been the night before Mom, Nana, and I had gone to Disney World together. It had been my first plane ride and the thought of seeing Ariel in person had made it really hard to fall asleep. I didn’t have that problem now.

  I spent the evening studying for the physics exam. Sam and I quizzed each other via video messaging for over an hour. We were ready. Before we logged off, I asked Sam, who always had good grades, if he expected to have good grades before an exam. He looked at me funny and said, “of course! Don’t you?”

  I stared at him, dumbstruck. Here I thought I had stumbled onto a magic ritual and he already knew about it. Maybe he was in on it? Cautiously, I asked, “how did you learn to do that?”

  At first, he started laughing, but when he saw I was serious he replied, “gee, Clare, no one taught me. I just set a goal, do the work, and hope for the best.”

  Clearly, Sam didn’t have bouts of self-doubt the way I did. At least, not about school. I decided to drop the matter and we said goodnight.

  I was wiped from studying. I brushed my teeth, hugged mom goodnight, and crawled into bed. I forwent scrolling and instead repeated the words Singer told me to say: “‘I wish to go to the yellow sitting room, to stay at the Castle for as long as is required to achieve my goal, to remember all about my visit.”

  Chapter 8

  I arrived by the fireplace in the yellow room, which I hadn’t noticed on my previous visits. I was very pleased with myself. However, I soon realized that I was, in fact, alone in the room.

  Heading for the door, I listened for sounds I could follow. When I heard nothing, I decided to test my new powers, so to speak. “I wish to be in Teacher’s office,” I said, eyes shut. I opened my eyes and saw I was now in the basement hall, staring at what seemed like an endless corridor of identical doors.

  One of two things had happened. Either I couldn’t enter the teacher’s office without invitation or I was not specific enough as to which Teacher I wished to see. Considering there was an unlimited number of us, there had to be quite a few teachers.

  But how could I specify which one I wanted to see? We were all the same! I decided to try something else. “I wish to speak with the Teacher who took me to her office yesterday, and who I met in the yellow room,” I said. There, that should have been more specific.

  I was still in the hall. It hadn’t worked.

  I was about to ask to see the fifteen-year-old Singer from the yellow room when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I whipped around and saw her. She was here! At least, I think that was her.

  Smiling, she said, “well done, Clare. You made it here on your own. And you were able to call me. Excellent work. Shall we resume where we left off?” I nodded and smiled gratefully. I really didn’t want to be alone down here. She opened the door next to us and motioned for me to precede her.

  Now I was wondering if I had accidentally found the right door, or if all the doors would have led to her office, since she controlled it. I was also wondering where the others are. Not only the ones from the yellow room but any of the others. Other than the children I had seen in the courtyard, I hadn’t crossed paths with anyone else yet.

  “Now, then. You were asking why we need your help. I should say, your group needs you. Awakening means becoming aware of your power. Aware that you are not the victim of your circumstances. That you are the creator of everything you think, do, feel, see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Once you are in your knowing, you are free from fear, doubt, or worry. Then you can create a wonderful life for yourself.”

  The more I listened, the warmer I felt in the center of my chest. If what she said was true, this was beyond magic. This was god-like power. “You mean like get good grades, win the lottery, get into a great college?” I asked, gauging how practical this could be or if it was just things like attaining inner peace. I mean, that would be great, but so would meeting a smart, cute guy.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, that and so much more. Sometimes, we can’t figure it out on our own and we come here. One of us can help. However, on our own, we cannot make important changes to the timeline or to major life events. We need more help. At your level of consciousness you need a group of twelve.”

  Strength in numbers. It made sense. “So, if one of us wants to change something major like save someone from a car accident, we could ask the others for help?” I asked.

  “More or less. For now, you are restricted to things that are happening in your current calendar year.”

  “You mean we can go back or forward in time?” I asked, incredulously. She nodded. “But how? Is there a time machine?” I joked.

  “Each girl in a group is attributed a different month of the year, as they Awaken. It usually coincides with the month that has recently comp
leted in their reality. I believe it is April in your reality. You are therefore responsible for the month of March and can offer your perspective to the others in your group,” she explained.

  “But how can you be sure someone will awaken every month?” I asked, trying to figure this out.

  “If two girls awaken the same month, they will be placed in different groups. A group is composed of twelve girls from alternate, but similar, realities. There might be millions of girls with similar realities. Those that are only slightly different are not placed together.

  “Because you came to us, your life trajectory has now changed. This new you is here with us. The old you will continue to worry about everything and struggle with exams. When she Awakens, she will be placed in another group,” she said.

  “I see. I guess now I should stop thinking about the girls in terms of their skills but in terms of their month. So, the help that is needed, is it for the month of March or for something bigger?” I asked.

  “As it happens, both,” she replied. “However, I’m not yet at liberty to tell you what it is until you’ve mastered a few basic skills. You’ve already mastered the ability to remember your time here, choose a location, and call a Teacher or Guide to you. I’d like you now to call your group leader,” she said.

  “Is that Singer?” I asked and she chuckled.

  “Yes, though you may use January to call her,” she told me.

  “Now?” I asked to be sure, and she nodded again. I closed my eyes and said, “I wish to see January.”

  When I opened my eyes, I expect her to be in the room with us. Instead, I was home sitting on the couch, snug under my blanket, reading the first chapter of The Giver. Wait, what? I just finished it, why am I reading it again? Then I noticed the pajamas I was wearing. These weren’t mine. The bottoms were pink fleece with musical notes on them and the top was white and read ‘Superstar.’ Gag. This couldn’t be right.

  I flung off the blanket, discarded the book, and ran into the kitchen. Someone was making pancakes. The kitchen looked the same, except there was a man chopping berries. Who was this guy? Mom’s boyfriend? Now I knew this wasn’t right.

  He saw me in the doorway and asked if I wanted whipped cream. Automatically, I replied “yes, please,” as I made my way into the kitchen.

  He nodded to the piano in the dining room and said, “will you play something for us? Breakfast is almost ready.”

  I looked over at the piano. It was a real piano. Mesmerized, I nodded and sat on the bench. There were sheets on the piano stand. The piece was called “Horseman Op. 27” by Dmitri Kabalevsky. I had no idea what that was. Nonetheless, I laid my hands on the keys and began.

  My fingers were flying on the keys. It was an upbeat piece I’d expect to hear during a silent cowboy movie. It was over in under a minute. I was sure I nailed it and beamed as Mom and the photographer—whose name I somehow knew—applauded. I stood and took a bow as they brought plates to the dining room table. As soon as I sat down to eat, I was back in the Teacher’s office, still in the armchair.

  I shook my head. It boggled my mind that I could seamlessly move from one place to the next, or from one reality to another. I was expecting more fanfare, something like a rush of wind or a queasy feeling in my stomach. But it was really like changing channels on the TV.

  “That was incredible!” I said, looking at my hands in amazement. “She’s a good piano player. I wished I’d heard her sing. Or had time to eat those pancakes,” I said, looking at the Teacher now. She was wearing her own astonished look and I frowned. “What?” I asked.

  “When I asked you to call January, I expected you to call her here, not teleport yourself into her life. She was meant to explain how to do that,” she exclaimed.

  “Oh, sorry,” I replied.

  “No, don’t apologize. That was very well done! You don’t need to close your eyes and say it out loud. You can just think about it. But if it helps you focus, it’s not a problem,” she said in a reassuring tone. “Now, ask January to join us, in your mind this time,” she said.

  I called her up in my mind and she appeared. “What’s up?” she asked and settled on the stool near the fireplace.

  “Where were you, before you were here? Did you suddenly disappear, or did you hear me and choose whether or not to come?” I asked in fascination.

  “In my reality, I’m asleep just like you. Part of me is dreaming, and another part of me is working with a Teacher on the third floor. She’s giving me singing lessons,” she stated.

  I pointed to her sitting on the stool. “Is this another part of you or is it the same part of you that’s singing on the third floor?” I asked.

  I was still wrapping my brain around the concept of an infinite number of versions of me at various ages, living an infinite number of realities. I also kinda got that I could be home sleeping, yet here at the same time. But being here and in two other places at once was too much for my brain to process.

  “Sorry, my mistake. I was doing vocal exercises when I heard your call. I excused myself and came here,” she said, breaking it down for me.

  “But it took you less than a nanosecond to do all that!” I exclaimed.

  “It happens instantly. Remember, there is no time here. Everything happens at the same time, past, present, and future,” answered the Teacher.

  “What if I call you, either of you, when I’m awake? What would happen then?” I asked.

  “That’s a little more advanced, but it’s similar to what you experienced when you asked to see January. The one being called would embody your experience,” said the teacher.

  “Like a body snatcher?” I asked in horror.

  January burst out laughing. “No, silly. Like a guest in your head. If you called me to ask for advice on something, you would hear it in your mind. If you needed me to sing in your place, for example, then I’d have to take over, obviously.”

  My eyes were wide like saucers. “You could take over and do stuff for me? Like, take my physics exam, for example?” I asked, imagining the possibilities.

  “Well you wouldn’t want me to do that, I’m probably worse at it than you are. But technically, yes. But we’d both have to agree. I couldn’t take over without your consent and you couldn’t make me do it against my will.”

  This was incredible. My brain was on overload trying to figure out the ramifications of what had just been said.

  “That’s why the girls in our group have different skills!” I exclaimed, grinning. My face fell when I realized I had no skill to offer. What could they possibly want with me?

  “Yes, and to show each of you that you can literally do anything you set your mind to. The sky’s the limit, so to speak,” put in the Teacher.

  “I don’t have any skills. Not like January. Can I call you January?” I asked her belatedly.

  “Yes, March,” she replied with a wink.

  “Of course you have skills,” the Teacher countered. “We all have our own unique gifts. You just don’t know what yours are yet because you are still wracked with fear, doubt, and worry. You are blind to your strengths. Once you Awaken, you’ll gain clarity and self-confidence.

  “I can give you a clue, though,” she said, smiling. “You excel at organization, analysis, and strategy. It’s why you find so much to worry about, because you are always analyzing all the variables that could go wrong. Imagine if you used your gifts positively, for a change!”

  She was trying to be encouraging, but I felt the sting of her words, nonetheless. My unworthiness was creeping to the surface, gripping my throat and pools formed in my eyes.

  January looked at the teacher in alarm and rushed to wrap me up in a hug. “Don’t feel bad, most people feel that way, all the time. You get a chance to change things and make them better. That’s all the Teacher is saying.”

  The Teacher left her chair to crouch near my chair and stroke my hair. “You are going to achieve great things. Do you know how I know?” she asked soothingly. I sniffled and
shook my head.

  “Because I am a version of this new you from the future,” she said with a wink.

  Chapter 9

  I woke up longing to visit my life in the future and resisted the urge to call the Teacher. I didn’t have time. It was exam day. I flew through my morning routine and headed straight to class when I arrived at school, instead of meeting my friends near our lockers.

  I needed to stay focused. The door was unlocked, and the room was empty. Perfect! I headed for my seat, arranged my pens, calculator, a bottle of water, and tissues neatly on my desk and placed the rest of my things under my seat.

  Normally, I would cram during these precious last minutes, but now I closed my eyes and called up the vision I had in the Teacher’s office. In minutes, I was overcome with joy, like I ate sunshine and drank a rainbow. I was feeling like I was suntanning in the backyard. The light was bright behind my eyelids and a beam was hitting me straight through the heart.

  Someone nudged me on the way to their seat and a cloud moved in front of the sun. I blinked back to reality. I no longer felt as high as I had, but I was still wearing a goofy grin. I was going to nail this exam.

  I turned to look at Sam. He was staring at me with an unreadable expression. I gave him a thumbs-up, still grinning, and his response was a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. I turned back. The teacher had placed the exam in front of me. I took a deep breath, grabbed my pen, and waited for the signal to begin.

  I read through all the questions and highlighted important facts. I didn’t need to start with the easier questions, they were all easy! Or at the very least, the answers came easily. I made my way through the booklet, read over each of my answers twice, and put my pen down. Checking that I had written my name and group number, I raised my hand to signal that I was finished. The teacher cocked his head and looked at the clock. I had completed a seventy-five-minute exam in thirty minutes. We were both shocked. I usually was the one who asked for extra time.