The Suburban Strange (30 page)

“I don’t know them, but of course they’re Kind. I’ve never met an Unkind—at least, not that I know of—but I assume the difference would be obvious. Maybe I’m wrong about that.”

“Mariette was sure she was safe. She’d made some kind of charm.”

“She was almost as new as I am. The night we met she told me some of the things she was doing, and I don’t know if half of it had any effect at all. She must have felt like she was supposed to face it on her own. Maybe I wouldn’t have asked for help, either. But she should have.”

“That wasn’t really her style,” Celia said. “She was the most independent person I’ve ever met. Are you going to get in trouble for being here?”

“No, that’s calmed down a little,” Tomasi said. “Just a little.”

“So, you kissed me . . .” Celia began, searching his face.

“Because I like you,” he said. “You’re wondering if it’s for other reasons. I’m sure my admonition is about you. But I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t really like you. You know”—he put his hands gently on her arms—“none of this matters, really. One day I curse the world for mixing me up in all this. The next day I feel like I understand, and I try to make peace with it. But I’ve never embraced it and tried to live up to my calling. Maybe I should. One thing I know for sure: there is no honor in deception and manipulation, and nothing good can come from them.”

“What power would you gain?”

“I have no idea. You don’t find out until it happens. It’s all a matter of faith.”

“Wow.”

The Rosary were watching the two of them intently. “Your friends are waiting. I’m glad I got to see you,” Tomasi said.

“So what happens? With you and me?” she asked.

“Honestly, that’s up to you,” he said.

“I want to see you.”

“I want to see you, too. Hopefully things will continue to calm down at home, and then I’ll be able to.” He half smiled at her. He was a different person from the brooding creature who had stared so intensely at her all those months ago at Diaboliques. He turned to walk away, but she caught his hand and drew him back to her. Celia put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him again. She could tell he was surprised, but his arms encircled her waist.

“I’m so sorry about Mariette,” she said in his ear. “You might not have gotten to know her well, but she was one of your Kind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“It won’t,” he murmured. “I’m glad I got to see you.”

When Celia returned to the Rosary, Regine asked, “What haven’t you told us?”

“Forget that, go straight to the juicy details,” Marco said.

“He lives close to the bookstore,” Celia said. “He stopped going to Diaboliques because he caught pneumonia, and he’s only been better for a little while.” She chose the lie because there was no way she could tell them anything approaching the truth. They watched as Tomasi exited a side door of the church.

“No, the
juicy
details,” Marco said.

“What do you mean?”

“I could see the chemistry between you two from fifty feet away!”

“Oh, don’t talk about chemistry now,” Celia said.

21. GOD’S OWN MEDICINE

O
N THE NEXT DAY
,
back in school Celia quickly grew tired of questions from people with whom she’d never spoken before. “If you’re so interested, if she was so important to you, why weren’t you at the funeral?” she snapped. People started to steer clear of her, and she wound up feeling isolated in a way that reminded her of her life a year before, when she had wanted desperately to be left alone and then felt so lonely whenever she got her wish. Celia knew the way to walk that meant
Stay away
. Before, she had used it in an attempt to be invisible, and then she had learned to use it to reinforce her mystique and that of the Rosary. Now she dared the people around her to get in her way. She had anger to burn.

She arrived at the chemistry lab, where a pear-shaped woman with a chopstick in her hair studied the class list. Celia’s relief to see the replacement teacher was small compared to the tinderbox of emotions she associated with the lab room. The traces of evil Mr. Sumeletso left behind were chased around the room by her joyful memories of Mariette. Lost in thought, Celia was startled when the new teacher called her name. Celia went up to the desk.

“I see Mariette was your lab partner,” the woman said. “How are you?”

“I don’t know,” Celia said plainly.

The teacher smiled kindly, pityingly. “The two of you have the highest averages, so don’t worry about this class. I don’t see how you can get anything less than an A.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you could tell me, since your grades are so good. Do you have any idea why this class has been doing so much better than Mr. Sumeletso’s other sections? I’ve looked through his grade books, and it’s like night and day. Not everyone in here is doing as well as you, but they’re all doing well enough. In the other Chemistry One section, and in Chemistry Two, it’s a miracle if half the students are passing. I had a line to the back of the room of people asking for extra credit. I can’t figure it out.”

“I don’t know. I always thought he was tough but not impossible,” Celia said honestly. She was sure it had something to do with the secret truth about Mr. Sumeletso, but there was nothing she could say to this woman.

“Here’s another strange question, then: have the lights always flickered in this room? It’s been driving me crazy all morning.” Celia followed the teacher’s gaze up to the fluorescent bulbs, which took turns faintly shifting in intensity. Dark rings traveled up and down their lengths, and now and then one of them blinked.

“I don’t think so. I never noticed.”

“I’ll have to call the janitor,” the teacher sighed. “Would you like to join one of the other lab groups?”

“Actually, I think I’d rather work by myself,” Celia said. “But thank you.”

And she was happy to find she was able to do quite well on her own. She knew Mariette would have been proud of her, even if she did have to measure everything carefully and the experiment took her the full period. Celia’s attention was divided, though. In that room Mr. Sumeletso never left her thoughts. He had been so unassuming, so mild, it was easy to understand how she and Mariette never had suspected him, and she was bitterly unsurprised that no one would think to accuse him of anything worse than negligence. She hated him, from his knit tie down to his crocodile loafers, and even though she didn’t fear him as much, now that he was gone, it made her insanely angry that the strongest punishment he was likely to receive for killing Mariette was losing his job.

Celia was in agony about it, but she couldn’t think of anything to do. She had learned and kept a good many secrets this year, but she didn’t want to keep the things she knew about Mr. Sumeletso to herself. The list of people in whom she might confide shortened, though, every time she thought of how one of them would react. Her mother, Regine, Marco, anyone in the Rosary.
I think Mr. Sumeletso drowned Mariette on purpose . . .
She might as well just say,
I’ve taken leave of reality, and please listen to this insane story . . .

She still wanted to tell Tomasi, but every time she entertained that thought she remembered Tomasi cowering away from his father, and the way his mother kept the door almost closed, as though she were containing some kind of animal that might try to run between her legs. Celia imagined all the time he must have spent locked in his room while they sat downstairs, weaving their own guilty superstitious ideas about what kind of demonic child they had brought into the world.

And she thought of Mariette, cold and lifeless at the side of the pool. For all the miraculous things Celia had seen Mariette and Tomasi do, they were kids, just like she was. If she told Tomasi what she knew about Mr. Sumeletso and he did something foolish, he would get hurt, or worse. It might not even be at the hands of Mr. Sumeletso. Celia was sure Tomasi’s parents were more than willing to take drastic measures to control the son they feared because they didn’t understand him.

She preferred to hope that with Mr. Sumeletso gone from Suburban, all the danger was gone, too. It might have been altruistic, or selfish, or downright foolish, but it was the decision she made. Celia found small comfort in the idea that at least no other girls would be hurt for the rest of the year. Soon enough school would be over, and then she would pray for the news that Mr. Sumeletso wouldn’t be returning to Suburban in the fall.

Liz showed Celia the obituary before she published it in the school paper.

Mariette Ann Hansen died on May 1, the day before her sixteenth birthday. She was a sophomore who had distinguished herself as a scholar and a free spirit. She was well known at Suburban for her strawberry blond hair and her exceptional kindness. Mariette was particularly gifted in science. Her chemistry partner remembers her conducting experiments as easily as if she were baking a cake.

No one ever expects to confront the death of someone as young as Mariette. No one ever should have to. We need our school to be a place where we can learn and grow, safe from the dangers and concerns of the world outside. It is a tragedy that her death could have been prevented simply if it had been better known that she couldn’t swim, and this terrible accident casts a shadow on our new swim facility in its very first year. Our responsibility to one another as a community—students, faculty and administration—is to look out for one another, even at the most innocuous times, so nothing like this accident ever happens again.

Mariette is survived by her parents, Ron and Justine Hansen, and her brother, Steven. Funeral services were held this past Wednesday. The family suggests that charitable donations be made to the botanical garden in Mariette’s name.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK ANOTHER
sophomore girl chose to stay home on the day before her birthday, but Celia knew the curse really was over this time. The requirements of the Unkind admonition had been met, and all that remained was to wait for the lunar eclipse. In their ignorance, however, the student body was reminded of Mariette again, and new rumors percolated. The flickering lights in the chemistry lab, which the janitor had been unable to fix, were attributed to Mariette's ghost. Some students refused to get into the pool, claiming they had seen Mariette's body at the bottom. Somehow in death Mariette had transmogrified from a left-of-center curiosity into a creeping monster. Once again Celia found herself saying rude things to strangers who had grown bolder as more time had passed. One afternoon Brenden pulled her away from a trio of junior girls, and she found herself sobbing in his arms.

“She wasn’t just some weirdo who was killed by a curse!” Celia cried. “She was a beautiful person, and if any of these people had actually gotten to know her they would have seen that, and they wouldn’t be asking me if she died because nobody wanted
to have sex with her!
” She spit the last words down the hall at the retreating girls.

“That is really tasteless. I’m so sorry.” Brenden hugged her close. “C’mon, let’s go to the library.”

“I have to go to class.” Celia dug in her bag for a tissue.

“So do I. Let’s go to the library.”

They found a table in the back and sat down. “I keep forgetting how hard this has been for you,” Brenden said. “Even at the funeral you were so composed. If I lost a friend like you have, I would be a mess.”

“I don’t know. I just hate how I feel now, doubting all the time, fearing all the time.” Celia realized Brenden couldn’t understand what she meant. She thought of all the magical nights she’d had—the visits to Diaboliques, her first kiss with Tomasi, First Night—and all the promise they represented. But since Mariette’s death the nights had been lonely, blackened oceans for her, filled with apprehension and loss. “It shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t be gone.”

“Tell me something about her.”

“About Mariette?” Celia thought of Mariette running happily down the hall on her way to class. “One of the reasons I wound up liking her is she was just as fearless as you guys. You know? You do what you want, wear what you want, listen to what you want, and if people don’t understand, screw them. She was the same way. Girls would tease her about her clothes or her hair, and she’d just look at them as if to say,
At least I don’t look like you.
”

“I remember we judged her the same way,” Brenden said.

“I’m sure you guys would have been nice to each other, but she was just into different stuff. I didn’t even know about a lot of it.”

“You’re a much stronger person now than you were when this year started.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. You never would have ripped into those girls like that,” Brenden said.

“Probably not. Today I was ready to kick them down the stairs.” Celia remembered pushing the boy down in the hall before and wondered where she had picked up this violent impulse.

“The first day of school I could tell you were a little overwhelmed by all the foolish things we like to do. But you were even more grateful to have a group to belong to, so you put up with all of it.”

“I really do love it, though. All the things you’ve shown me, all our interests, our secrets.”

“And we’re lucky you do. But back then, we were protection for you. You don’t need us for that anymore. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if when we look back on this year, we relied more on you than you did on us.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I think so. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Ivo and I have been friends so long, and he’s always been the leader. He wants to be roommates next year at college, but I almost wonder if I should say no. Maybe I should try being my own leader. Anyway, I think no matter what happens here next year, whether you and Regine and Marco decide to continue with the things we’ve done or not, you’re going to be fine making your own decisions and choosing your own course.”