Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (73 page)

“Well yeah,” Mick said. “But he was getting up there too. It’s not like he was really young or anything.”

“So what’s the story about him and Mrs. Whitehouse being lovers?” Justin asked. “I was like—whoa! Does Mr. Whitehouse know?”

“That’s the thing,” Mallory said, giving his arm a squeeze and leaning in like she was telling him a secret. “There is no Mr. Whitehouse. Turns out she’s never been married. She just calls herself that.”

“Why?” Mick asked.

“No one knows,” Mallory said.

“She’s just weird,” I said. “I don’t think they were lovers and I don’t think there’s a good reason she goes by Mrs. Whitehouse. She’s just a sad, lonely woman who makes stuff up. A cat woman who reads young adult novels and pretends she’s still young.”

“I guess that answers that,” Justin said, punching me on the shoulder. “You seem to know a lot about Mrs. Whitehouse, Russ. How close did the two of you get on this trip?” And then he and Mick laughed uproariously, like jackals on crack, and high-fived each other. Jameson shook his head and gave me a look that said,
your friends are morons.
At that moment, I had to agree.

Mallory steered the conversation to more neutral territory: what everyone was doing now that we were on summer vacation, and how great our upcoming junior year was going to be. Justin had recently gotten a job at the popcorn kiosk at the mall and he told Mallory that if she stopped by when he was working the popcorn would be free. “We have all kinds too,” he said. “Cheesy popcorn, caramel corn, and regular.”

“All kinds,” Jameson said dryly. “Three.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Mallory said. “I’ll have to come by and visit you.”

“Bring a friend,” Justin said. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” she said.

Somehow it came up that Mick and I would each be getting our driver’s license soon. I’d be driving one of my parent’s cars when they weren’t using it, but Mick’s parents were buying him a car just for him to drive. He made it sound like he had a choice, and was going to pick something fast, but I knew his family. Chances were good it would be a used car and probably something practical with good gas mileage. Mallory acted impressed, but I think she would have acted that way no matter what he told her. She was good like that.

We talked until Carly came by to say Frank was hitting his limit, which my mom took as a cue that we should leave. I said good-bye to everyone. Mallory gave me a big hug, which caught me a little off guard, but I definitely was cool with it, especially when I saw the look on Jameson’s face. Mick and Justin noticed too. Not a bad thing at all.

The crowd had dwindled considerably. As we headed out to the parking lot, I saw lots of other people leaving at the same time. Frank, impatient as always, charged ahead to where the car was parked, while my parents, Carly, and I walked behind. “That Mrs. Nassif is so nice, Russ,” my mom said, referring to Mallory’s mom. “I’m glad you’re getting in with a nice group of kids.”

“Unlike me and
my
high school friends, who were all big losers.” Carly’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “The scum of the earth.”

“That’s not what I meant, Carly,” Mom said, weary like she didn’t want to start up with this again.

“Mallory is nice,” I agreed. I wasn’t thinking about Mallory though. I was thinking about Nadia and how I was going to manage to see her. And I
was
going to see her. If the Associates couldn’t kill us, a middle-aged woman wasn’t going to keep us apart. Somehow, no matter what, I was going to find my way back to her.

Russ

On Saturday afternoon, when I was alone in my room, I tried to reach Nadia by calling her parents’ phone. It rang four times before someone answered. There was a long pause and then her mother’s voice: “Hello?” The word was long and drawn out. She sounded suspicious and on edge, like she was ready to hang up at the slightest sign of trouble.

“Hi,” I said, walking around my bed and looking out the window. “This is Russ Becker. I was one of the students who competed with Nadia at the Miami Academic Decathlon.”

“I know who you are,” she said stiffly.

“I was hoping I could speak with Nadia?”

The response came out in a short burst. “No. Nadia will not be taking phone calls.”

Whoa, she sounded super angry. Enraged even. “Oh.” I had to come up with something quick and Carly’s lie was the first thing that came to mind. “It’s just that she lent me some money on the trip. I wanted to pay her back.”

“How much do you owe her?”

“Twenty dollars?” Shoot. Carly was right. I was a terrible liar.

“You aren’t sure?”

“No. It’s twenty dollars,” I said quickly, putting my palm against the glass. “She gave me a twenty dollar bill and I really want to get it back to her. And thank her, too.” Outside on the street, some neighbor kids were setting up a rail to do skateboarding tricks. It was a gorgeous summer day, breezy and almost hot, but not quite. The kind of weather Wisconsinites wait for all winter long. And here Nadia was trapped inside unable to enjoy it.

I could hear Nadia’s mother breathing, but she didn’t answer.

“So when would be a good time to stop by to give her the money?” I asked. “I could come over now, if that’s convenient.”

“You can leave it in an envelope in our mailbox anytime,” she said.

“Okay, but I was hoping to stop in and talk to Nadia,” I said. “Just for a few minutes. To thank her.”

“I will tell her thank you for you.” There was a click, and then nothing but silence. What a waste. I was no closer to seeing Nadia and because I felt obligated to follow through with my lie, I was going to be out twenty dollars.

I put a twenty dollar bill in an envelope and wrote Nadia’s name on the outside. I thought about writing her a note, but decided against it. Her mother would read it and I was pretty sure she’d never pass it on to Nadia.

It took half an hour to walk to Nadia’s house and once I got there I spent another minute debating what to do. The house itself looked fine, just the way I remembered it. A two-story Colonial, with brick on the bottom, white siding on the top, and black shutters on either side of the windows. A generic suburban home. Nothing menacing about it except that the place was all closed up like the family was on vacation.

I could knock on the door and hope that Nadia would answer, like she had on the day Mallory stopped over. Then I could see her, at least for a minute or two. But my phone call had probably given her mother the heads up that I was coming. Chances were good she’d be the one to open the door and I was not looking forward to talking to her in person. The mailbox at the curb was the standard black metal box mounted atop a pole. It was slightly askew, like a snow plow had bumped it at one point. If I wanted to, I could leave the money there and try to reach Nadia another time, but that would be the coward’s way of doing things. I was here now, I needed to see her, and knocking on the door would be a start anyway. Even if her mother turned me away, Nadia would know I tried.

I was halfway up the concrete walkway when some movement at the second-story window above the front porch caught my eye. A moment before I could have sworn that the blinds at that particular window were down, but now they were raised and I saw Nadia behind the glass. She wasn’t wearing her usual dark-colored sweatshirt with the hood over her head. Instead, she wore a white tank top revealing her narrow shoulders and thin arms. Her hair was tucked behind her ears. From below, I couldn’t see any sign of the scars on her face. To anyone else she would look like a regular teenage girl, nothing about her the least bit outstanding, but I knew better. She was different—special. In my universe she was the sun around which everything revolved. I lifted a hand to wave and she grinned, then pointed.

I shook my head unsure of what she wanted. Nadia walked her fingers across the sill and waved her arm around, again pointing to the corner of the house. Still not understanding, I followed her gesture and when she nodded, I knew I’d gotten it right. After I crossed the lawn to the side of the house I figured it out. Her bedroom had two windows and she had directed me to the one overlooking the side yard. Thick hedges growing along the property line blocked the view from the neighboring house. Presumably, I was now also out of the sight line of people passing by on the street.

I watched as Nadia frantically unlatched and lifted the window and then pressed her face as close to the screen as possible. "You came!" she said, the joy in her voice raining down over me.

"I would have come sooner," I said, apologetically. "I mean, I would have come over or called you, but your mom seemed so pissed off at the airport that I thought I'd give it some time. And then I was waiting for you to project to me and then when you didn't, I wasn't sure what was going on."

"I wanted to, really. I just couldn't. She's with me like almost every second." Nadia glanced back over her shoulder before continuing. "When I go to bed she checks on me every few minutes and I never get into a trance long enough to project. And then eventually I fall asleep. It's so eerie the way she’s always hovering over me. It's like she knows."

“Do you think she does know something?” I asked.

Nadia shook her head. “No, it’s just her being who she is. Crazy. Controlling.” Her voice sounded more sad and frustrated than angry. It was heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry," I said. I was sorry for what she was going through and sorry that we were apart. It was maddening that I could see her and hear her voice, but I couldn't touch her or even look directly into her eyes. And the window screen was one more thing keeping us apart. They never had screens in the movies; people popped their heads out of open windows all the time. "I'm really sorry."

"It’s not your fault," she said, and sighed. "But I can tell you one thing, as soon as I'm eighteen I'm out of here."

She meant it, I could tell. I said, "I'll go with you, Nadia."

"Where?"

"Wherever it is you're going when you’re eighteen. I'll go with you."

"But you'll still be seventeen on my eighteenth birthday. I'll get in trouble for contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” she teased.

"That's only if they catch us. And they'll never catch us." I reached my hands up and shot a very small arc of electricity so it fell just short of the window. It was the closest I could get to touching her even if it was overly theatric. Even in the daylight the stream of sparks were impressive. "I'll blast anyone who tries to come near."

She laughed and gave a few slow claps of approval and for a minute it felt like it had before, when it was just the two of us together driving down a country road in Peru. Like we were the last people left in the entire world. I let the sparks fizzle down to nothing. “It’s not the same without you, Nadia,” I said.

“What’s not the same?” she asked.

“Everything. Life. It feels empty without you.”

From the other side of the hedge I heard a door open, followed by a dog barking, and the splashing of kids jumping into what had to be a large pool. A woman’s voice yelled for someone named Matthew to put on his water wings. So much for being the last two people in the world.

“I know,” Nadia said. “I’ve been feeling really lost too.”

“You missed Mr. Specter’s memorial service. There was a really big crowd. Mrs. Whitehouse was one of the speakers and she announced that they were lovers.”

“Who were lovers?”

“She and Mr. Specter.”

“She said that?” Nadia said, incredulously.

“To everyone there. Hundreds of people.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “Bizarre. What else did I miss?”

I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. “According to Jameson you and I are in love.”

Her mouth widened into a huge smile. “Really.”

“Really. That’s what he said.”

“And what do you say?”

“Well, you know how much it kills me to agree with Jameson, but—”

I’d lost her attention. She glanced back over her shoulder and returned with a worried look on her face. “Look Russ, I hear my mom coming up the stairs, so we don’t have much time. Just so you know, my parents aren’t letting me go on the next Praetorian Guard trip and I can’t go to the meeting either.”

“What trip? What meeting?”

“I thought you knew. Anyway, you’ll hear about it soon,” she said, waving my question away. She spoke more quickly now. “My mom put alarms on all the outside doors so I can’t sneak out at night anymore. I can’t make phone calls or send emails or write letters. I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to you or see you again. Maybe not until I turn eighteen. Don’t forget about me, okay?”

“We’ll think of something,” I said. “Maybe if I—”

“No,” she said, “you don’t understand. It’s gotten really bad again. This could go on forever. Last time she was like this it went on for two years.” She wiped at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Just promise that you won’t forget about me.”

“I couldn’t forget about you. How could I forget about you?”

“Promise. You need to promise.”

“Of course,” I said. “I promise. I’ll never forget about you. I couldn’t forget about you.”

“I’ll keep trying to astral project to you,” she said. “That’s all I’ll be able to do for now.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, reminding me of something I’d meant to say.

“Nadia!”

She looked behind her and left the window. I could tell from the noises drifting down that her mother was in the room with her. I heard Nadia’s voice, soft and subdued in contrast with her mother, who sounded furious. I didn’t want this to be the end for us, today or any day. How could her Mom be mad at her when I was the one who’d come to the house? Nadia hadn’t even left her room. “Nadia!” I called out again.

She came back to the window, her mother behind her. Even one story up and from behind a screen I could feel the woman’s wrath. Her face was contorted in anger, making her look gargoylesque. “I have to go, Russ,” Nadia said. I could see that she was fighting to get the words out and even to stay near the window. Her mother had a grip on her and was pulling her back.