Sunblind (17 page)

“And I will not have a boyfriend who breaks his promises,” she pouty-whines.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jess leap into the air until she's completely horizontal, facing the floor, and lying right above Rayna's head. She shoves one golden finger down her throat and then opens her mouth wide so a stream of golden vomit pours out of her and onto her intended victim. A glob of yellowy liquid lands on top of Rayna's head, splitting perfectly to pour, in even amounts, down the sides of her body.

I open my own mouth, but I'm in such shock at the disgusting, yet mesmerizing, sight that no sound comes out, and luckily no one's paying attention to me so my jaw-dropping remains unseen. Jess and her vomit also remain unseen, although Rayna does try to wipe something off of her arm and her chin, so I'm pretty sure she feels a presence around her. It's doubtful that she knows she's showering in Jess's preternatural fluid.

And clearly Jeremy has no idea he's dating someone his sister and I consider an UGSWM—Unacceptable Girlfriend Slash Wife Material—because he's as anxious to leave with her as we are for Rayna to disappear from the premises. Scooping up the car keys from a wooden basket on the kitchen counter with one hand, Jeremy reaches out with the other to grab Rayna's elbow, and they start to leave.

“Put those back,” Mrs. Wyatt says, stroking Misu's fur.

“I'm going to drive Rayna home,” Jeremy replies.

“Not in my car you aren't,” she replies. “Yours is right in the driveway.”

Busted! Jeremy's probably more furious at being embarrassed in front of his girlfriend than he is about getting caught trying to pull a fast one right underneath his mother's eyes, but for whatever reason he slams the keys into the basket with such force that it flips over. So much for a quick getaway. Now he has to hunt and peck through the basket's overturned contents to find his own car keys. Instead of being driven home like the princess she thinks she is in a new Nissan Xterra, Rayna will have to squeeze into a ten-year-old beat-up Ford Taurus like an ugly stepsister. The latter is a much better description of her anyway.

“I hope she sits in the spot where I peed!” Jess cries just as the unhappy couple leaves the house.

“You peed in Jeremy's car?”
I ask silently.
“You never told me that.”

“It was a long drive, I drank a lot of soda, and he was making me laugh,” she replies.

I guess there are some more things I still don't know about Jess. Or her mother.

“Thank you, Misutakiti,” Mrs. Wyatt says, kneeling down and rubbing her nose against his after Jeremy and his hopefully soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend leave. “I know I shouldn't admit it, but I can't stand that girl either.”

I collapse onto the floor, and the three of us become a mass of fur and laughter and hugs. Jess watches us from a distance, golden tendrils of sunlight curling around her face and her body, and she smiles wistfully. She's nearby, but she'll never be anything more than a visitor to this world again.

In many ways, I feel exactly the same way.

Chapter 15

Today may be my birthday, but thanks to Luba, it's definitely not a day for a celebration.

Luckily, Louis and my friends agreed with me, and they all promised that they'd ignore the calendar and we'd have a little party next week. If next week we find any reason to celebrate. Jess, however, would like the party to start early.

“Happy birthday to you!” she sings. “Happy birthday to you!”

Just because Mr. Dice is also the choir director doesn't mean he approves of singing in his algebra class, and anyway I'm not in the mood for it.

“
Jess, I'm scared
,” I silently confess.

“Which is normal,” she replies.

Jess is floating in the air to my left and looks as if she's lounging on my bed. Horizontal, hair dangling off the edge of the mattress, one leg bent, the other crossed so her left ankle is resting on top of her right knee. All she needs is nail polish or a trashy magazine to complete the picture. She looks so much more normal than I've felt in ages.

As she rolls her head to face me, a golden arch flies through the air and then melts away.

“This is now your normal,” she says. “It's really time you get used to it so you can begin to trust your power.”

I do have a lot of powers, that's true, but I would trade them all if Jess could shed her sunshiny persona and return to me as a regular human girl. But I have to stop wishing for that because it's not going to happen. It's time to wish wisely.

“I wish that tonight reveals answers,”
I declare.
“And that I know what to do when there are no more questions.”

What was that noise? Startled, I snap my head to the front of the room, but only see the back of Mr. Dice as he scribbles some numbers and symbols on the blackboard. Glancing around the class, I see that Gwen and the rest of them are either paying attention or frantically trying to copy down Dice's writings in their notebooks. No, the sound I heard isn't human; it's Omikami. Worse than that, it's laughter.

“What's so funny?”
I ask.

“You so funny little grasshopper,” Jess replies in her best politically incorrect Japanese accent. “Dominysan, there are never ‘no more questions.' ”

Great! “
I get to be stupid for the rest of my life
,” I complain.

“Stupid is thinking you have to answer every question on your own.”

Jess's voice is back to normal; gone is any pretense of humor even though she's smiling.

“Remember to follow your guts. You have two sets of them now, you know,” she says. “And if all else fails, just follow the light.”

I follow Jess's light as it disappears from the room, and I'm amazed at how quickly my surroundings turn to darkness without her. It's as if I'm in the belly of a forest standing underneath century-old trees that act like a natural canopy through which no light can penetrate. When I look up I find my situation is even worse. Mr. Dice is standing over me, and I'm consumed by his shadow.

“Dominy,” he says. “Did you do your homework?”

Did I? Think! “Yes!”

He smiles, ignoring the snorts and snickers that launch all around us.

“Excellent,” he replies. “Then would you mind handing it in?”

For a moment I don't respond; all I do is stare at his hands, one of which is holding the piece of chalk that never seems to leave his fingers, as they slowly descend into his pants pockets. My gut swivels, and I feel like I'm watching a clue; his movement means something, but what? The seam of the pocket on his right pants leg is smeared with chalk. Maybe it's a letter: maybe it's actually a symbol that I'm supposed to decipher. But even with my super-enhanced vision I can't see anything. It's just a smudge.

“Homework,” he nudges.

Fumbling through my notebook, I rip out the pages containing last night's assignment and hand them to him. Mildly surprised that I'm actually able to produce my homework, he pulls his chalk-less hand out of his pocket and takes the papers from me. When he turns to walk back to the front of the class, something drops onto my desk.

My gut was right; I was being given a clue. I was just focusing on the wrong pocket.

“You like Hello Kitty?!” I shout in disbelief.

This time he smiles with a hint of embarrassment instead of measured patience. Shuffling back to my desk, he grabs the Hello Kitty keychain I'm holding in my hand.

“A gift from my daughter,” he replies over the catcalls and comments from the class.

It's also a gift from Jess to me, another reminder that no matter what the circumstances, deadly or dead boring, she'll always be around.

There are times, however, when I wish Jess were with me not to offer protection or guidance or wisdom, but just good old-fashioned girl-to-girl backup. Standing in the hallway that connects the gym to the school's offices, I could use it.

Mr. Lamatina had asked me to deliver a stack of flyers to the nurse's office, printed announcements reminding all students that flu shots were still available. It's so incredibly appropriate that the resident hypochondriac is spearheading the Two W wellness campaign and not the woman who gets paid to keep us healthy. Anyway, this meant I would be late for gym, so I agreed as long as he gave me a permission slip.

After dropping the flyers off to a very perturbed Nurse Nelson, I started walking toward the gym. What should have been a quiet, uneventful trip turned into the exact opposite.

“You made the wrong choice, Nap,” Nadine seethes.

With or without backup and with or without Napoleon's consent, I can't keep silent. I've heard Nadine berate her brother before, and when I thought it was just commonplace sibling rivalry I kept my mouth shut; it wasn't my place to butt in. Now that I know Nadine and even Napoleon are not at all common and are potentially dangerous, I should probably run right past them as if they don't matter to me. But Nadine's words do matter. Maybe because the hateful sentiment behind them is more common than I'd like to admit.

“Being gay isn't a choice, Nadine,” I snap. “Any wannabe nurse knows that.”

When Nadine turns to look at me, I don't see her face right away; it's covered completely by the silver mist that usually lives deep within her soul. She looks like a medieval knight prepared to do battle, kill or be killed. When the fog lifts to reveal her face, I see that I was right. She's glaring at me with such disgust and disregard that it's clear that I'm her enemy, but such an inconsequential one that she can't even be bothered to alter her expression.

“I don't care who my brother is attracted to,” she hisses.

“Then why are you always yelling at him that he's made the wrong choice?” I spit.

I'm not sure why I feel the urgent need to defend Napoleon, but I do. Maybe it's not really Nap I'm defending, but Archie and all the kids like him who are always being bullied. Or maybe I'm just stupid and have made a huge mistake.

Standing behind his sister, Napoleon shakes his head from side to side. His eyes widening, he's trying to make me understand that I've asked an inappropriate question. If I have, why isn't Nadine shocked that I know about her brother's homosexuality? Why isn't she ranting about how he's unnatural and a deviant and how he's going to burn in hell for his life choice? She's not doing any of that. She doesn't care that her brother's gay like Nap's led us to believe. All she cares about is that I've insinuated myself into her conversation.

“I would have expected you of all people to understand that there are more important things in life than having a boyfriend, Dom,” she sneers.

“Exactly!” I shout. “One of those things is family support.”

She sneers slowly as if it's being carved on her face.

“You see, Napoleon,” she says, her voice much softer, not normal, but definitely not as vile as it just was. “Even Dominy understands the importance of family.”

When Nap speaks it's with such vulnerable passion that I feel like an outsider. And yet even though he's speaking directly to his sister, I feel that his words are meant for me.

“I
love
my family, Nadine,” he states. “Without you, I'm nothing.”

Nadine doesn't return the sentiment; she doesn't thank her brother for such a heartfelt revelation. She merely presents a warning.

“Remember that and you'll never have to live without us.”

Harsh! “Geez, Nadine, give the guy a break!” I yell.

“And there's no reason for you to worm your way into our family business.”

She's right. I don't know why I'm defending Nap when I know that he's connected to my curse. Even if it's a small connection, even if he never asked to join the party, he's still a guest. I mean, really, what am I doing? I just forced Archie to admit that Napoleon is the enemy, and now I'm defending him like he's my friend! But maybe standing up for Nap is really an attempt to stand up for myself? Is the wolf that's buried deep inside of me trying to tell me something? If he is, he better work faster, because Nadine does not look happy.

“I thought you knew the world was filled with magical surprises,” she says. “But I guess your brother's right; you're not as smart as you want the world to believe.”

My brother?! I'm so shocked by her comment that I can't even respond. I can't stop her from leaving and disappearing around the corner. Now it's just Nap and me. I don't care if he's the enemy, my savior, or something in between; right now I need him to be my informant.

“Why is Nadine talking to my brother about me?”

“I have no idea why Nadine does any of the things she does,” he replies.

I listen to his words, but more than that I listen to how they make me feel. I'm concerned. Not about me, but for Nap. He's telling the truth.

“In fact,” he continues, “I have no idea why my family does any of the things they do.”

I'm curious and frightened by his remark, but I need to know more.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “What kinds of things?”

Now Napoleon's frightened; I can see it in his eyes. He's said too much, and even though I can sense that he wants to say more, that he wants to purge his mind and his heart and his soul of things that shouldn't belong there, he hesitates. Not sure if it's out of loyalty or fear. When he finally speaks, he sounds calmer, as if he's articulating a thought that's lain dormant for years.

“I'm an outsider, Dominy,” he states. “And I can't wait to get the hell out of this town.”

An image pops into my head of a young boy throwing clothes into a bag, methodically moving around his bedroom grabbing the items he's going to need for a trip. But the boy isn't Napoleon; it's Archie.

“Nap,” I say. “You're not thinking of running away, are you?”

He's not surprised that I've drawn this conclusion; he's not really even relieved. He's too lost in his own thoughts. But not too lost to have a game plan.

“It might just be the best thing for everybody in this town if I did leave and never came back.”

Could I have misjudged Napoleon? Could I seriously have let this whole Orion thing and Jess's message cloud my mind? I honestly don't know what to think, and I spend all of gym class and the rest of my day trying to figure it out. The only thing that makes me turn off the Nap light that's burning a hole in my mind is seeing Louis and Barnaby plopped on the couch playing video games when I come downstairs after dinner.

Racing back upstairs I barge into the bathroom just in time to see Arla wipe her mouth with a towel. I know that look; she's wearing after-vomit face. Since the door was unlocked, I'm guessing this isn't something she typically does and rule out bulimia. She just threw up because of me. I rip off some toilet paper from the dispenser and wipe away a piece of extra-clingy vomit that refuses to let go of Arla's bottom lip. Immediately I'm reminded of when Nadine did the same thing for me, when she was pretending to be my friend. I have got to find out what's going on with her, which means I have got to get out of this house and see Luba.

“Why is your father still home?”

“Because he and Barnaby want a boys against the girls video game tournament,” Arla replies. She keeps her voice quiet, but it's as frantic as I'm beginning to feel. Correction, as I already feel.

“Tonight?!” I shout. “They want to have family game night . . .
tonight?!
”

“Yes!”

“Don't they know that there's going to be a full moon out tonight?”

My question was rhetorical, but Arla responds as if I were trying to goad her into action.

“Daddy!” she screams, bounding down the steps into the living room with me hot on her trail. “Why aren't you out looking for the killer like you've done every other night that there's been a full moon?”

I know that question sounds absurd, but I accept it. I can't accept Louis's reply.

“We thought it was a good idea,” he says, his voice oddly unemotional, “but we were advised that it was a wild goose chase.”

“We?” Arla asks, hands on her hips in full daughter-as-wife mode.

“Me and Barnaby,” Louis replies.

Now that's strange. Not only is Louis trying to make it appear as if he's more interested in battling the spaceships on the TV screen, but now he's making it sound as if Barnaby is his deputy, instead of his ward. What's really going on with him, and what's happened to make him change his mind about finding The Weeping Water Killer?