SelfSame (7 page)

Sorcha

She woke to find Grammy Fay sitting on the side of her bed, patting her leg.

“I came in to check on you a few minutes ago,” Fay said, “and you were crying again.”

The skin of Sorcha’s cheeks felt tight from dried tears. “It wasn’t me. Enid cried herself to sleep.”

“You are Enid.” Fay’s voice was soft and sympathetic. “What happened?”

In an unemotional voice, Sorcha gave her an abbreviated version of events while Fay rubbed the same spot on her leg through the bedspread until she thought she would scream. When she’d finished describing Enid’s kidnapping, and before Fay could say more than, “Oh, Sweetling, how terrible for you,” she slipped out of bed and went to stand in the bathroom doorway.

“I need to get a handle on this,” she said. “I can’t keep letting Enid disrupt my life. So please don’t ask me any more questions…not today. Okay?”

Her grandmother gave her a sad smile and nodded.

Sorcha took her shower, fixed her hair and pulled on her clothes in a zombie-like trance. She wanted nothing more than to call Paula and cancel attending the football game, but if she didn’t go, she’d sit around the house moping. She’d told Fay she didn’t want Enid’s life disrupting her own, so she’d best get on with it.

The game was scheduled to begin at 10:00 am, so she had a chance to catch up with her parents at the breakfast table. Her mom had simmered a batch of steel-cut oatmeal with cinnamon. Enid’s gnawing hunger from the day before seemed to have transferred itself to Sorcha, because she devoured her portion and asked for more. The conversation was by necessity limited to Sorcha’s life; her parents had never believed in Enid and never would. They had no idea she was still under the ‘delusion’ that Enid was real.

In the lane, Paula was uncharacteristically late. When she did arrive, Luanne was sitting in the passenger seat. Resignedly, Sorcha opened the back door, but to her astonishment, found Ben sitting behind Paula. She avoided eye contact, got in next to him and fastened her seat belt as Paula drove off. No one spoke for several seconds until Luanne turned around in her seat. The smile was absent today. “Hey.”

There was a strange atmosphere in the car, like everyone but Sorcha knew something and they were reluctant to share. She forced herself to say, “How’s it going?”

Paula glanced over at Luanne and said, “Well, it’s been an interesting morning.”

Luanne had seemed so light-hearted the previous two times Sorcha had met her. Now her words, “We need to talk,” sounded serious to the point of curtness.

Sorcha looked at Ben. His lip was no longer swollen, but the bruise under his eye had gotten darker. He was slumped slightly in the small space the compact car afforded him, and his knees came up almost to his chest. Today he had no charming smile for her; his manner was subdued.

“You told her,” Sorcha said.

“I had to.”

A scoffing little laugh escaped her. “Why don’t you people stop beating around the bush and tell me what the hell this is all about?”

“We know who you are,” Luanne said.

Sorcha met Paula’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but this morning the warning look was noticeably absent.

Unsure, Sorcha said, “Paula?”

“I neither confirmed nor denied,” Paula said. “But you need to listen to what they have to say.”

Luanne shook her head. “Don’t blame Paula. As soon as you mentioned Bear Talker to Ben, we knew.”

“Suspected,” Ben said.

“At least I always believed,” Luanne retorted.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, looking out the window.

Suddenly the convoluted conversations with Ben about Bear Talker made blinding sense. “Wait a minute,” Sorcha said. “Your little secret society has something to do with…me?”

Luanne pressed her lips together and appeared to be considering her next words. “We have to be careful what we tell you.”

Her meaning might seem obscure to anyone else, but Sorcha read between the lines: they knew things she didn’t – about Enid’s future.

“Oh,” she said softly.

The very concept of someone other than her grandmother and Paula knowing about Enid, believing in Enid, was foreign to everything she’d learned to do to protect herself over the years. Just in case she misunderstood, she said, “Tell me her name.”

Luanne didn’t ask what she meant. She looked at her brother, who shrugged his agreement that it couldn’t hurt.

“Enid,” Luanne said.

Paula shot a quick look over her shoulder. “I didn’t tell them.”

“I believe you.”

They’d reached the bus stop. Sorcha wondered where Luanne was going on a Saturday, but didn’t ask. Luanne got out, but leaned inside and spoke to Ben. “They called a special meeting this afternoon. Make sure she’s there.” She shut the door and walked away.

Sorcha was too shell-shocked to even crawl into the front seat. She just looked at Ben, queasily wishing she hadn’t eaten all that oatmeal.

“It’s where Bear Talker’s longhouse used to be,” he said. “The meeting.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

When they got to the school parking lot, he put a hand on Sorcha’s arm to stop her from leaving. Paula gathered her things and left them alone in the car.

Ben sat up straight and studied her face until Sorcha began to feel uncomfortable. “What?”

“You don’t look like her.”

A thrill of something like excitement went through her. “You have a picture? No one’s ever done a portrait of me – I mean Enid.”

He winced. “So much for not telling you what you don’t already know.”

“Your sister said you didn’t believe. Is that why you wigged out on me?”

“I didn’t wig out.” It was a weak protest. He looked down at his hands, clasped loosely between his open knees. “I was raised to believe in a story passed down through the generations for two hundred years. Didn’t get all the details until I was old enough not to go around blabbing, but yeah, it’s hard when you’re asked to put faith in the impossible.”

“I’d like to hear that story.”

“Not from me.”

“Then who?” She was getting frustrated.

“You have to live it.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Look, I need to ask you something. What day is it tomorrow for Enid?”

She shrugged. “It’s tomorrow, exactly two-hundred and thirty-six years ago.”

His countenance didn’t change, but his eyes flickered. Was that concern she saw?

“Why?” she asked.

“What was yesterday like for her?”

“Oh, you could say she had a pretty bad day.”

“Just tell me, Sorcha.”

“Really? Is that how it works? You and Luanne and your secret buddies come along and ask questions, order me around and I get nothing in return?” She reached for the door handle. “I don’t think so.”

She got out, slammed the door, and hurried across the dirt lot. The game had already started, so there weren’t very many students around. He caught up to her just before she got to the pavement. “Sorcha!”

The loud growl of a rapidly approaching engine drowned out whatever else he said. She glanced around. John Nelson’s jacked-up black truck was speeding down the aisle, straight for them. Ben threw his arms around her and dragged her between two cars. John, his head sticking out the window, pulled up and laughed raucously.

“WOO, Coz, you should see the size of your eyes!” he shouted. There was a strip of white tape over his nose, and both eyes had thin black streaks under them.

“Yeah? Get out of the truck and say that!” Ben yelled. Now it was Sorcha’s turn to throw her arms around him – to prevent him from hauling John bodily out the truck window.

John popped the clutch and spun his tires in the dirt, sending rocks flying as he sped away. Ben’s tense body leaned in the direction he’d gone. She realized her arms were still grasping him around the chest when he turned his head, bringing his face to within inches of hers. Her heart had already been racing from nearly getting run over, now it skipped a beat or two as his brown eyes looked into hers. She pulled away quickly, but later, when she was supposed to be watching the game, she remembered the intensity of the look and wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t.

She and Paula sat several rows up from Ben, who was hanging out with the same group of kids he sat with at lunch. The teams were evenly-matched for once and the game was exciting, but not as exciting as the unofficial half-time show. Kristin Barber and her cheerleading squad did their thing, shaking their pom-poms and riling up the crowd, but as soon as the last cheer rang out over the audience, Miles Blumenthal, quarterback and all-around team hero, stomped onto the field and grabbed Kristin by the arm. Sorcha couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obvious from their gestures and furious faces that they were having a very public fight.

“Dang,” Paula said, stretching out the word.

Sorcha looked around for Ben and caught sight of him down on the sideline talking to, of all people, Dalton. She had a moment of pure panic as it occurred to her that Ben knew how Paula felt about Dalton. All she could do was hope he kept his mouth shut. She was glad Paula was distracted by the spectacle on the field. Sorcha glanced over just in time to see Kristin slap Miles in the face. The crowd roared its approval.

“I love it when royalty shows its ugly side, don’t you?” Paula had a big grin on her face.

Sorcha murmured an appropriate response, all the while watching Ben make his way back to his seat. He paused before sitting down to scan the crowd. She thought maybe he was looking for her, but noticed him staring off at a group of young men who were flaunting the rules and smoking on school property.  John Nelson was among them. He took a deep drag before flicking the burning cigarette butt in Ben’s direction. Then he turned abruptly on his heel and walked towards the parking lot.

After the game, the question of how Sorcha was supposed to get to this big secret society meeting was answered by Paula.

“I offered to drive you if they’d let me attend,” she said.

Sorcha was relieved. “Good. I mean, that you’ll be there. You know all about Enid, so why wouldn’t they let you go? I hope I get a straight answer about, you know, why this secret society started in the first place. It’s logical to assume Enid tells someone about me…” she stopped. Enid already had told someone. Bear Talker – and Joseph. The thought made her hopeful for the first time that Joseph hadn’t been dead after all.

She hadn’t known what to expect from the meeting. Her mind conjured up everything from a Native American powwow dance around a bonfire to a midnight grove of masked, chanting men. Instead, it was a bright, cold afternoon and there were about forty men and women milling about or sitting in folding chairs arranged in two rows in a big circle. When she and Paula tentatively entered the grove of pines, everyone got up and came over to shake their hands and say hello.

Sorcha was nervous, and with all the new faces immediately forgot just about everyone’s names.

Luanne came forward and said, “This is our mother – Ben’s and mine – Janet.” A petite, older version of Luanne clasped Sorcha’s hand in both of hers and said, “I’m just tickled to meet you. You’re so much prettier than I thought you’d be.”

Ben had said he’d seen a portrait of Enid, so Sorcha assumed all the others, including Janet, had also seen it. She decided not to be insulted, though, and just said, “Thank you.”

Janet gave her daughter a tremulous smile. “Your father would be so proud.” To Sorcha, she explained, “He died a few years ago. I know he would have wanted to meet you.”

Sorcha maintained her polite demeanor, but her nervousness increased. Ben’s mother was looking at her with borderline worship in her eyes. It was freaking her out.

As person after person paraded by, one thing Sorcha noticed was that most of the men seemed to have nicknames. There was a Benjie, a Skip, a Doc, a Curly and a Slim, plus several more she couldn’t recall. The other thing she was quick to pick up on was that the members of this ‘secret society’ of Ben’s were all related to each other – which was why she was floored when John Nelson appeared before her with a smarmy smile on his face.

He lifted her limp hand, kissed it and said, “Look what the dog dragged in.” His eyes flicked over to Ben at the word ‘dog.’

She snatched her hand away and wiped the residual dampness off on her pants. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Cousin Ben didn’t tell you, huh? Shock.”

He started to say more, but Ben appeared and gave him a dirty look. “Watch your mouth, John.”

John’s smile didn’t budge, but his eyes narrowed into calculating slits. “Maybe you should watch yours, O’ Chosen One.”

“That’s enough!” The speaker was Skip, an older man who grabbed a handful of John’s shirt at the neck and hauled him back a few feet. “Sit down. I won’t have any trouble, you hear?”

John backed away with a cocky swagger, watching Sorcha and Ben the whole way. Ben said, “Come on,” and led her to a chair in the circle next to where Paula was already sitting.

Sorcha sat on the cold plastic seat, feeling as if all eyes were on her – which, for the most part, they were. Only one person seemed to be distancing himself from the rest, an older man leaning against a tree who had white hair pulled back into a ponytail. His face was carved with deep lines, like a block of tarnished marble that had seen hard times.