The Pentrals (14 page)

Lights begin to flash as silver confetti drops from above. For a moment, everything seems suspended in time as the sparkling paper catches the light and slowly floats to the ground. Everyone around me is beaming including my date. Thomas’ blonde hair is speckled with silver, his blue eyes twinkling like diamonds behind his glasses. He brushes away a confetti sliver stuck to my lips and moves in for a kiss, and I try, with every inch of my being, to let it resonate. Just let the happiness around me infuse his embrace with the same kind of excitement. Let myself feel something magical. But it is not to be. The confetti has landed and the moment has passed, leaving me again with nothing.

The evening carries on with all its glittering grandeur. Dinner is served on mirrored place settings and I devour four courses of pure heaven. Up to this point, I’ve eaten just to sustain this body, since the lack of choices at the Rayne house has been less than appetizing. But here, the food is so incredible. I have to keep myself from licking my plate. Thick, creamy potatoes oozing with melted butter; moist, lemon chicken with a rainbow fruit salad. Toasted rolls so flaky they almost fall apart in my hand. I can’t get enough. I’m the only girl at the table sufficiently stuffing myself.

Thomas, seeing how much I’m enjoying my meal, gets up to fetch me something from the dessert table. I’m so hungrily anticipating the chocolaty treats that I don’t notice when Ben comes up to our table.

“Hey there, firecracker,” he says, startling me. His hand lingers on the back of my chair inches from my shoulder; I can practically feel the heat radiating its cautionary reminder. My body tenses and pulls inward, like I’m trying to fold myself up to keep a safe distance.

“Hey,” I reply in a shaken voice.

“Having fun?” Ben sits down without invitation in Thomas’ seat.

“The food is good,” I say, nodding to my nearly spotless plate.

He turns up his nose. “I’m sure it is. Wouldn’t know though.” I think about his far-away look on stage, how it looked like he’d rather chew off his arm than discuss his sister with strangers. No wonder he hasn’t eaten.

“Not the most appetizing conversation, I guess,” I offer.

“Not really.” He inches his seat closer. On stage, he looked as flawless as his father, but from up close, I can see dark circles under his eyes. He must not have gotten much sleep last night. It’s easy to understand why. “Besides, I’d rather talk about something else anyway.”

I know where he is going with this and try to deflect the subject. “Flatware?” I say, picking up a fork.

“Hilarious. Actually, I know a set of glasses worth mentioning,” Ben replies.

I look away, scanning the room for Thomas. I wish he would come back already. What I need now is a buffer, not another cupcake.

Ben presses on. “See, I’ve never had anything like that happen before. If electrocuting friends is an everyday occurrence for you, that’s one thing, but it was a new experience for me.”

I can’t believe his accusation. Like I was the one who sent us flying across the kitchen, when nothing even close to that has ever happened with anyone else. He is the one who sets me on fire, not the other way around.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault,” I snap.

“Believe me, I’m having trouble understanding it myself. I mean, you’re hot Violet, but not literally.”

My face turns red at his remark. I don’t even know why. How these boys are not repulsed by my appearance is quite a mystery. But it’s not relevant right now. I will not take the blame for his sparks.

“Thanks. I guess,” I huff, looking away. He waits for me to say something more.

“Violet. We have to talk about this. Don’t you think it was weird?” His eyes dance all over my face, looking for the right combination to figure me out.

“Yes, of course. But I don’t understand it any more than you.”

“So let’s figure it out together.” His insistence at decoding the kitchen incident starts to worry me. If he were responsible for the spark, like I assumed, he wouldn’t keep pressing the issue. He’d back down, be extra careful not to touch me again, and hope the whole thing would blow over. Yet instead he’s opening up, thawing out the chill between himself and Violet. It’s a moment of honesty—vulnerability—that I haven’t seen from him since before his sister’s accident. He’s genuinely confused and eager for answers. Answers I cannot give.

If Ben isn’t sending the sparks it has to be me. Some sort of freakish Pentral side effect I can’t control. If I don’t know how to contain it, I’m the one who is dangerous. I’m the one who needs to steer clear of him.

“Are you with me?” Ben asks. He sets his fist on the table, thumb pointed to the sky. The Alliance handshake, completed by touching my thumb to his. His eyebrows are raised, hopeful for my response. But I can’t. He may not be afraid for me to touch him, but I won’t cause this Person any intentional pain.

To his surprise, I push my chair back and jump out of my seat. “I have to go,” I announce, and leave the table as quickly as I can, just as Thomas, plates packed high with treats, returns. But I don’t stop.

“Is everything okay?” he calls as I race past. I know I’m being rude, to both him and Ben, but I just want a moment by myself to collect my thoughts. All night long I have been surrounded by faces; these desperate-to-be-perfect faces. I don’t know how to please them, to do what they expect from me. I’m so used to being alone, to not having others pay attention to me, that all this company is overwhelming. Pentral society is one of seclusion; life was a lot easier when only one face was on my radar.

I run out of the banquet hall and into the hallways of FreshView corporate. Couples linger here and there, trying to steal some private moments of their own, so I continue turning corners until I am entirely alone. Once I stop, I realize it is quite dark. Since I’m still at the top of the building, one side of the hall is all glass looking out to Talline, while the other is a silvery metallic. In the dark of night, my Reflection is blessedly difficult to make out, but still, I press my back into the shiny surface so not even the faintest trace catches my eye.

I slide down to sit and look at the city’s moonlit skyline. It’s not exactly comfortable sitting in my dress, but I try to let the still view calm my nerves. The red rocky backdrop looks almost purple at night, with only the true color showing near the basin, where streetlights and mirrors keep everything bright. All alone, with the light too weak to have Violet in plain sight, I wonder if anyone else in this beautiful city struggles with being a Person as much as me.

But I’m not solo for long, because I hear a voice not too far away. A woman, speaking in hushed tones, as if she doesn’t truly want her words heard. Curious, I get up and walk toward the sound. As a Shadow, I could have crept up completely undetected, but it takes much more care to be stealthy in a body. Soon though, I’m just steps from the source. I press into the wall and listen to catch the conversation around the corner.

“Baby, you have nothing to worry about. Those people in there? Putty. Putty in my hands. I have them wrapped around my little finger.” She pauses, waiting for a response. The voice is familiar, its silky cadence nestled in my mind. I know it, yet it is altered somehow, like a well-known image viewed through a different filter. I feel like there should be sweetness in the phrasing, but instead the words are sour. Without a face, I can’t place the source.

There is no second voice to answer her, meaning she must be talking on a holopane. She continues. “Don’t worry baby, I’m holding on tight. I have no intention of letting go. There’s not going to be any shift, no change to the status quo. Those people are pawns and I am their queen. No one says no to Celestia Sky.”

I cover my mouth so as not to release a gasp. What did I just overhear? My thoughts race as her footsteps echo down the hall. Did Celestia Sky, the sweetheart of Talline, just reveal she’s playing the town that worships her? And what, exactly, would that even mean? Sure, she’s an omnipresent figure, popping up on nearly every 3D projection around, but her appearance is always welcome; I’ve never heard anyone say a negative thing about her. How could you? She’s a sweet, sugary sight, always trying to lift people up with her encouragements. Like tonight, how she praised Mr. Kelly and all the FreshView employees for all they’ve done for the community. Showering people with smiles and compliments doesn’t exactly seem like some form of oppression.

Could it be there is another monster in Talline?

* * 18 * *

A
s I force down a bowl of stale cereal the next morning, I watch Celestia Sky give a recap of last night’s anniversary party on the downstairs holopane. Her 3D frame glides back and forth across Violet’s kitchen, almost as if she were floating on a cloud right in front of my face. She talks about the lighting and the magical atmosphere, being sure to recount every whimsical detail. I almost gag on my cardboard breakfast as she recalls every spoonful of the four-course meal; it is the one part of the night I wish I could live over and over again.

Oddly, though, she fails to mention what I thought to be the most dramatic element of the evening: how all the party guests rose above their usual downtrodden appearances and transformed into stunning, happy individuals. Surely it must be worth discussing how lively and elegant the attendees were, but Celestia makes no mention of the crowd. The only fashion reference ties back to the host herself, commenting on how all the compliments on her attire made her feel so loved and appreciated. A replay of her dedication speech flickers off the glass, just in case anyone failed to remember how ravishing she looked. How is it that Celestia is the only Person to ever gain face time on the holopane? For city spokesperson, she makes little effort to promote anyone but herself.

I’m tired. The past couple days is catching up with me and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on. Watching Celestia slink around the room doesn’t help; my movements are downright robotic next to her flawless frame. And to think that everything she does is some sort of game? It makes everything worse. It’s bad enough that I have to look at someone so pretty when my own face drives me near tears. Could she really be withholding other Persons the chance to appear on screen in effort to manipulate the population? Forcing them to only witness her beauty and no one else’s? It’s the only thing I can think of; the only way she could assume any kind of power. Everyone in town worships her, but really, she doesn’t have any competition. To stay on top, she’s systematically keeping everyone down, hidden from view. It seems so cruel, such a despicable way to spend time, and yet I can’t say it isn’t working.

The next few days do nothing to lift my spirits. Every encounter presents new ways to encapsulate me in darkness. Ben repeatedly tries to pressure me for answers, but I push him away. Thomas constantly corners me looking for affection. Sam gives up trying to talk to me and instead shoots death beams whenever our paths cross. And of course, every first period, Mr. West gawks at me like I am a mythological creature. As if I did not already know, based off the spine-tingling Reflection that never leaves my side.

It is in physics days later when I feel I am going to lose it. Mr. West’s lecture on white light keeps getting interrupted by a constant nuisance: me. Although I never participate, or do anything to draw attention to myself, his bouncy energy comes to a halt every time his eyes flit my way. They are brief, fleeting pauses in his narrative, but they are so abrupt, so out of sync, that I wonder why no one else in the class is taking notice. Maybe no one else is listening, or maybe they are all floating on a
Lift!
high, but it’s driving me crazy. I can’t take this anymore. Every day in class, our encounter at the FreshView party: his strange behavior around me deserves some sort of explanation. I decide today is the day I confront him. I don’t have much control over how I need to treat most people in Violet’s life: with Thomas and Ben, I have to follow the pre-set patterns. But Mr. West? He means next to nothing to her. This is one Person I can, and must, give a piece of my mind to.

Only he beats me to it.

As the bell rings, Mr. West calls me to his desk. I stare at him, unblinking, trying my best to raise the intimidation factor and put him in his place. But he is unfazed.

“Is everything alright Violet? This past week you’ve seemed different,” he says.

Gee, I wonder why. Perhaps it is because my physics teacher is giving me a daily ocular examination?

“What makes you say that?” I ask innocently.

“Well, for one thing, your grades have improved drastically. Even I am not that great a teacher,” he chuckles, drumming his fingers against his desk. Why can’t he just be still?

I am not in the mood for humor. As a Shadow, I spent a long time admiring this man, but my vantage point must have been skewed. He is not the inspirational molder of minds. He is awkward, off-putting. A giant disappointment. At this rate, I would take the teachers who barely notice my presence to the one who cannot focus on anything else. “I’m just interested in the subject,” I say.

“Sure, so you say. I’ll be honest; I know you’re here because of Mary. I respect that.” He stands and circles his desk, sitting on the edge closest to where I stand. “But you’re also here for Violet, correct?”

I don’t understand what he means, but he is starting to make me nervous. Something about his tone; there is a strange knowing look on his face. I take a step back.

“Right, I’m here to better myself,” I say with as much confidence I can muster. Who else would I be here for?

Mr. West is very close to me now, with just inches between us. I feel a chill, and seriously consider making a break for the door. I am trying not to tremble, but cannot shake his intensity. “Of course. Though I’m sure it’s much easier to learn a subject when you’re in a body, not shadowing down on the floor.”

The comment takes my breath away.

He knows. I don’t know how, but he knows I am not really Violet. I turn to run out, but he grabs my hand and suddenly I’m immobilized. His fingers are frigid, my palm entangled in icicles. “Don’t move,” he whispers. I desperately want to, and yet my body is frozen in place.