The Pentrals (3 page)

“Oh,” Violet says finally.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He squints behind his glasses, searching her face for signs of distress. Thomas pushes aside a stray strand of her red hair and tucks it behind her ear, an act of familiarity. Of course, the two are very familiar with each other, or at least they were. His other hand touches her cheek.

“Yeah, it’s just, the carpod, it…” She allows his hand to linger, and I watch eagerly from below, trying to soak up the emotion of the moment. What would it feel like to have someone like Thomas trace the curves of your face? From down here, having someone stroke your skin seems nice, a gentle gesture that must come from an affectionate place. I look up at Violet to read her reaction, but she is already pulling away. Her eyes flit down to me, as if she was sensing my questions about the scene, but I know her action is all about the two of them and nothing to do with myself.

“I get it,” Thomas says as he pulls himself back. Violet is so still, I have time to catch the flash of hurt in his eyes, but he regains himself quickly. “I’m still here, okay?”

The school bell rings. Violet nods and watches Thomas turn to walk inside the building. Together we take a moment to hang our heads as one of her last friends leaves her standing alone on the pavement.

It wasn’t always this way.

At the end of Violet’s junior year, you could not tear her away from Thomas’ side. The two had been friends forever, starting with the day he saved her handmade pinwheel from flying away in a sudden gust of spring wind. I remember how hard she worked on it in class, as getting to do art projects on paper was a special occasion. She drew intricate swirls on the curved corners, giving them a sprinkling of glitter on each point. It had flown right out of her hand after she walked out the door of her fourth grade classroom. Thomas, a bespectacled little boy with a mop of blond hair, had just emerged from his class next door, and saw the sparkling contraption spinning through the air. He rescued her creation just before it suffered a watery fate in the nearby drinking fountain.

As a young Shadow, I had not yet mastered the art of quickly stealing glances at Persons besides my own, but on that day, it was impossible not to see how Thomas looked at Violet. His oversized frames could not hide the look of wonder across his face upon meeting the green-eyed, freckle-faced girl with glitter under her fingernails. It was like he saw an angel, and the two became inseparable. Whenever Violet was with Thomas, my job became easier, because her body instantly released any anxiety built up throughout the day. I no longer carried her stress through to my outline, as his presence melted away her tension.

Halfway through high school, the pair became an official couple. Their attraction had grown to such a palpable level even I felt like I could reach out and grab it. After an evening party held on the shore of Lake Clarion, the large body of water at Talline’s basin, the two snuck away close to the water’s edge. I get nervous around water, but luckily the moon was covered in a swath of clouds, so I was free to watch the moment their romance began from an angle of my choosing.

Violet had kicked off her flip-flops and was balancing on the rocky border of the shore.

“You’re going to fall,” Thomas teased.

“Well, then you’d better catch me,” Violet replied. She tiptoed around the formations, miming the movements of a tightrope walker. A wave crashed against the rocks and Violet jumped down to avoid being swept away.

“I told you!” he laughed.

“No, I jumped! I didn’t fall!” She playfully reached out to push him, but he caught her hand and pulled her close to him instead. The two were inches apart, and I waited anxiously to see what would happen next. One silhouette I had yet to outline was that of a couple embracing, but with the moonlight so soft, my form was not visible. I was removed from the moment. I wished to be part of their first kiss, to understand the feelings involved. But all I could do was watch in awe.

Thomas and Violet used to be one half of a group of friends who jokingly called themselves the Alliance. The nickname was created through the playful minds of children, but somehow stuck through the years. The other members included Mary Kelly, Violet’s very best friend since her toddler days, and Benjamin, Mary’s adopted brother. Ben was brought to Talline in middle school and became friends with Thomas through the school’s soccer team. Each member of the Alliance had very different interests and personalities, but somehow when they got together, their variances brought them together. As adopted siblings, Mary and Ben shared a tightly woven bond to be rivaled only by Thomas and Violet’s. The foursome did everything together and would do anything for each other.

This all changed last May. The Alliance was at a graduation party for an older friend, and the night was winding down. Mary wanted to leave the party early and was pestering her best friend for a ride.

“Can you two please stop being adorable for two seconds and drive me home?” Mary asked. “Ben already left.”

Violet pulled herself away from Thomas and looked at Mary with slight confusion, as if just realizing she was at a party and not alone with her boyfriend. “You want to go now?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Give us five more minutes, okay?” Thomas replied. Violet scrunched her face in a goofy grin, causing Mary to roll her eyes in exasperation and walk away, tossing her brunette hair over her shoulder. Thomas pulled Violet back close, eyes dancing from freckle to freckle.

“I better go,” she said, inches from his face.

“Five more minutes,” he whispered. Only it wasn’t five minutes. The clock ticked on as Violet, and myself by extension, became lost in the warmth of the moment. Tucked in a corner, completely entangled in each other, I tried to steal even a sliver of their affections and wondered what their attraction felt like. Every time Thomas moved to touch Violet’s face or kiss her lips, I willed myself to feel something. Anything. I performed their interactions across the dimly lit room without fault, but my movements, void of any sort of physical reciprocation, did not have the same fire behind them.

Mary ended up getting a ride from a senior girl. Hours later Violet was asleep while I guiltily thought about Thomas, about what it would be like to have someone look at me that way.
It would nice to be noticed for once
, I thought. An urgent holopane signal interrupted our rest. Experience had taught me most late night calls were never good, and this was no exception.

Suddenly I found myself racing along the glossy tiles of a hospital floor, hurriedly projecting Violet’s frantic frame under florescent lights. As it turned out, Mary’s ride home had been hit by a freightpod with miscalculated coordinates. The senior girl survived with only a few scratches, but Mary took most of the impact, leaving her in a coma. Although I know I must have performed what happened next at regular speed, the whole scene seemed to happen in slow motion. Violet crumpled next to Mary’s hospital bed. Thomas stared in stunned silence. Ben paced the room, his face red and splotched.

Violet’s tears rolled down her face, landing directly on top of me. Her fingertips, always caked with residual art supplies, clenched the tile, leaving what would have been scratches across my face. Her pain was a puddle all around me, begging me to share in her sadness. But while all around the Persons I’d come to know fell apart, I had no choice but to keep my composure and carry on, trapped behind a barrier of disconnection.

Nothing was the same after that night. School let out for the summer a few days later, and Violet spent most of her time visiting Mary. The first several visits involved lots of crying, with Violet taking Mary’s hand or sometimes crawling in her bed to hold her. She took time programming the room’s holopane with a series of beautiful images she’d drawn and hung a few parchment sketches around the stark room. I knew Violet did not like the idea of her friend, so full of life, imprisoned in such a cold, sterile place, so she did her best to fill the room with color.

There were times Thomas would accompany her, but something about the air between them had shifted. When Thomas would offer comfort, I immediately expected her to accept, yet surprisingly found myself moving the opposite direction. I had grown so accustomed to her falling into his arms that shying away from him seemed wrong. It has always been my job to pick up my Person’s patterns, and when major changes in behavior occur, I have to take note. But I could not understand the expressions of shame and regret that passed Violet’s face whenever he came by. Surely she felt some guilt for what happened to Mary, but did she also blame Thomas? Despite his constant pleas for her to open up, she never officially confirmed my suspicions, and the divide between the two deepened.

The one who was not afraid to express his feelings was Ben. From the very start, he venomously blamed Violet for Mary’s coma, saying it would have never happened had she driven her home like she promised. On several occasions he became angry with her, his dark brown eyes filled with rage. Once it seemed as if he was on the verge of tears, but he never let that side break through. It was difficult for me, keeping Violet’s frozen stance while Ben berated her. He never did it in front of Thomas, knowing he would have defended her. Violet was almost too accepting of his anger, taking it all in as her own burden to bear. The weight on her shoulders played all the way through to her Shadow, bringing us both down every day since.

The coma continued its stranglehold on Mary, and Violet slipped further away from her friends. Her 17th birthday came and passed, with her refusing any sort of recognition. Who could she celebrate with anyway?

The Alliance was broken.

* * 5 * *

T
he parking lot has emptied, leaving only Violet and me. A faint breeze tugs at her hair as she places her hand on the spot where Thomas touched her cheek. One tiny tear manages to escape, but as quickly as it appears she wipes it away. For the first time in her life, Violet is truly alone.

Solitude does not agree with everyone. As a Shadow, I know this all too well. My Person has been fortunate to have many special relationships in her life, but for most of my existence, I have been left to my own devices, with no real network to rely on. The daily interactions I have with other Shadows are empty and meaningless, a quick burst into another’s psyche before moving on. Though I’m never by myself, I’m always alone.

The last time I had any significant interaction with another Shadow was during my assignment to this realm. It happened so long ago that recalling the details is spotty at best. I have tried, late at night as Violet sleeps, to piece together my beginnings, visions of that time: where I came from and what the highest ruling Pentrals—Class Fours—looked like. I remember their lessons and have heeded their warnings to stay close to my Person under all circumstances, and how doing so will bring me my eternal reward. But somehow, every other detail is lost, forever just beyond my grasp. All that remains is a hazy view of white, dotted with brilliant gold. I have not seen it since. I have searched the corners of my consciousness to find my way back, but my memories have been supplanted by Violet’s.

I look at her now, so crushed over a brief encounter with Thomas and wonder if maybe it’s just easier to be alone. No chance to get hurt. But no, I know I would give anything to experience her emotions, even the soul-crushing ones.

Eventually Violet pulls herself together and opens the heavy metal door to the school. Although most surfaces in Talline are highly reflective, the school seems to make due with less glass. There are still mirrors spread throughout the campus, but not to the extent of other public spaces. I am so used to sunlight ricocheting off every wall and walkway it takes me a moment to readjust my shade. Around all the mirrors and sun, my form takes a dark, crisp appearance, but in school, with the unnatural light, I am softer, lighter.

Violet hurries through the halls, making up for time lost in the parking lot. I’m concentrating so intently on weaving through the crowd I’m caught off guard when Violet knocks into someone and jerks back.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Sorry,” she whispers, looking down. I glance up to make out the apology’s recipient and freeze when I see it is Ben.

“Are you now?” he asks, taking one step closer. It has been a long time since I have seen him. His appearance is the same: chocolate brown eyes and hair, a tall, lean frame. But this is not the boy I remember. Before Mary’s accident, I was always appreciative of Ben. His life before coming to Talline is wrapped in mystery, but he does not let his orphaned past drag him down. He keeps his emotions in check, preferring to crack a joke to unite his friends. Out of all the Alliance members, I know the least about Ben, but I’ve always felt strangely comfortable around him. Only now he’s succumbed to his worst emotions, choosing to remain in darkness. His carefree face is replaced with one of constant gloom.

Ben’s tall, athletic frame, built over years of playing soccer, looms over her; his time on the field has taught intimidation well. If I didn’t know better, I would think it wise for Violet to inch back in defense, but he’s no bully. His dark brown eyebrows may be furrowed in frustration, but his eyes are full of sadness. These two used to be friends, but seeing them now, you would never know it.

“I am.” Violet finally meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a moment when she adds, “You know I am.”

Clearly, she is no longer talking about a simple hallway collision. His persistence that she take responsibility for Mary’s coma has been relentless, and while Violet has repeatedly accepted the blame, no amount of guilt is ever enough. Maybe Ben is a bully after all.

“Whatever, Violet,” Ben says, once again belittling her effort. His strong shoulder knocks into her side as he walks away, sending us both tumbling back in his wake. Even in soft, gray lines, my outline of Violet is full of tension as she makes her way to her first class. First Thomas, then Ben—what torment could be waiting at the next corner?