Chapter Ten
It had to be the nastiest sound ever. I didn't hear the door open at my back, and I didn't even notice the room fill up with Elite or the door closing again. All there was, was the cough and the fact it wouldn't stop.
What I did notice was Jesse being brushed away and strong, suffocatingly warm arms wrapping around me in an embrace. The smell was familiar, lavender vanilla dryer sheets that his mother made herself.
The panic eased off, as did the cough that simmered down to a sort of wheeze.
"Tally, you need to take deep breaths. The last time I checked, you grew out of your case of childhood asthma."
I wanted to shove him away and get as far away from these people as possible. I didn't want any part of whatever was going on. And there was something going on because I could feel it. I let myself bury my face in his dark green polo as I finished getting my breath under control.
"Her dad never should've let her come to school," I heard someone say.
"It's only going to get worse," someone else said.
Cecil sent them a warning message in the form of a rough jerk of the head. Or at least that's what it felt like to me. He drew me away from the crowd and over to the row of windows. He opened one, the old thing groaning in protest as he shoved it up. Paint chips went flying, spraying the sill and floor. The sticky morning air hit me again, bringing in the smell of freshly cut grass and mint.
After a few more minutes of breathing it in, I was ok. I tentatively took a step back, glancing around the room at all the familiar faces. They were all Elite, every single last one of them. And they just weren't from my class but from some of the lower grades as well.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked Jesse, unable to bring myself to look at Cecil.
"We can't tell you just yet," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry."
"Why not?" Caroline said. "She's clearly one of us."
"No she's not," Keenan said, stepping up so he was in the front. "She's still human. She can't know anything until she's completely one of us."
"Did you not see that?" she protested. "She's manifesting. It's only a matter of time..."
"Enough, Caroline," Jesse snapped. "Keenan's right. We follow the rules, just like the ones before us. She cannot know until she has the colors."
"She has the call," another girl, I thought her name was Iva Mae, said. "I could hear it all the way outside."
"Doesn't matter," Jesse said. "There's still a possibility she could die."
"Excuse me," I said, rather shrilly. "'She' is still in the room. I just want to know what the hell is going on with me."
"Tally..." Cecil reached out and tried to take my hand. I took another step away from him and glared. He was hurt but what the hell did he expect?
"Don't even get me started on you."
He looked down but not before showing I'd yet again, wounded him. Where the hell was the cold demeanor? Why was he acting like it was just yesterday we were best friends?
"Don't be angry with him," Jesse said. "He was only following orders."
"Oh and that's supposed to make it better? I don't even know what the hell that means but it's a crap excuse."
Jesse sighed, invoking the known Southern tradition of meaningful sighs. This one said 'I've been through this so many times I could rip my hair out if I have to do it again' and it irritated me. "We'll tell you everything once..."
"You know what?" I walked over to my bag and picked it up where I dropped it on the floor. "Keep your excuses. I don't want to hear them."
"Yes you do." Jesse clasped his arms in front of him. "You've wanted to know for the past three years why Cyrus was taken from you. I have the answer, I can tell you but not until Saturday."
"Keep it," I whispered. "I don't want your explanations."
"You're never going to stop blaming me, are you?"
"No, actually, I'm not."
"That's not the point right now," Caroline said. "Plouton is circling and he's gunning for her."
"Caroline," Jesse said. "Enough."
"Pluto, really?" I said. "Are we talking about the planet or the God?"
Jesse's whole body tightened like a wire ready to snap. He turned, very carefully, to face me.
"How..."
"She did a report on the planet when she was twelve," Cecil said. "She knows everything there is to know about both the planet and the god."
Several of my classmates looked at me with a new consideration.
"What?" I said. "It was my favorite planet. Still is. Its complete crap they declassified it as a planet because..."
"Enough," Jesse said sharply. "It doesn't matter. She can't know until she has the marks."
The classroom door opened and every single one of them looked in the direction. The whole thing was eerie like one of those Nazi videos. I half expected Mrs. Harrmon to walk through the door but instead it was someone I'd never seen before but looked oddly familiar. Like I saw him in a dream once before or something. Maybe he was a member of the country club...
"Ah," he said. "I see."
He came in and closed the door with a distinctive click.
"Who are you?" I asked as he walked into the room, all of the Elites moving out of the way for him and remaining silent.
He tilted his head to the side and stopped a couple feet in front of me. The studying bit was starting to get really annoying and I glared at him. He was tall, taller than anyone in the room but as I tried to get a good read on his height, it seemed to change. His whole appearance would change the second I got a lock on one miniscule detail.
"Well, you're not how I imagined, but you'll do."
"Excuse me?"
He smiled, the whole thing mischievous beyond reproach. "Oh, I'm not going to touch that one. How much does she know?"
Jesse stepped up so he was standing next to this mysterious man, both of them looking me over. "Nothing really."
"Good. It will remain that way until she's changed. The Sickness is already rooted and will need time to grow. Thankfully we have a week for that to happen. We're keeping tradition until then." He took a hold of my wrist and splayed it up. "Very nice line definition, all of it easily rewritten."
I yanked my hand away and took several steps backward. The room was filled with crazy people.
"Who. Are. You?" I demanded.
"I have many names, most of which you cannot pronounce yet. For now you may call me Logios. That will suffice."
That name sounded familiar but I couldn't remember where I heard it before.
His features shifted again just as I got a good look at the shape of his nose. This one I recognized. "You're...you sat in the coffee shop last night. I remember you."
He brightened. "Yes. I did. Wonderful atmosphere and your friend makes a very tasty espresso."
"Why were you there?"
"That's not important. Just know I was there to ward away certain dirty unmentionables and leave it at that." He took my wrist again, holding it in a vice grip as he studied the red line that curved and lengthened, flattening towards where his fingers held me. "My hermai have never had such strong lines before." He studied them a moment longer before looking up at me. "It's unfortunate that the red one cannot be changed. Well, not by me anyways."
"You're disturbing."
His grin got bigger, encompassing his face in some aspects and looking much like the theater mask for comedy.
"I can be perceived that way. The fact that you're human makes it worse. Don't worry, my dear. Soon you'll be one of the Elite and this whole mystery will be solved. Including why I ordered the handsome Cyrus back there to stay away. Hardest thing I've ever seen one of my hermai do but he muddled through it. Come here, Cyrus." Cecil stepped up so he was standing next to me. Logios held out his other hand and Cecil placed his wrist in it. Logios released mine but no matter how hard I tried to pull it back to my body, it wouldn't budge. Our arms were bare and next to each other, Cecil's love line hardly visible under all the others. Logios studied them for a moment and then released both of our arms. "Anadyomene would be proud." He didn't show any emotion or preference to what he saw or didn't see. "It's settled then. Once you become Elite, all this pretence can go away and everything you could possibly want to know will be within your reach."
"I don't want to know anything. I don't even want to be Elite."
"Not many do." His face remained unemotional. "To tell you the truth, even I don't have control over it. It is what it is and you are what you...will be. My most important herm yet. Exciting."
"Yeah, I can tell you're about to jump for joy."
"Humor has always been one of my favorite emotions. Unfortunately yours comes with sarcasm and I really can't stand sarcasm." His face turned like he was made of stone, cold and, added to the unemotional state he was already in, irritated. "This conversation is over. Everyone has their orders, feel free to carry them out. And Natalie, do try to stay out of trouble. You can die."
That was the weirdest statement ever. Of course I could die. I could die of this stupid Sickness someone thought would be a great cosmic joke to put in my body. There was no way I was this much of a late bloomer.
With that, the strange man took his leave, disappearing the way he came. This time leaving the door open.
"Come on, Natalie," Caroline said. "I'll walk you to class."
Caroline I could stand. If it'd been any of these other jokers who said it, I probably would've bit their hand off. My advance was stopped as Cecil took a hold of my arm gently. Unlike when all the other Elite touched me, his didn't send me into a fit of coughing. It just irritated me.
"What?" I snapped and looked at him.
"Remember what I said. Stay away from Union Davidson."
"What is the big deal?" I asked, looking from him to Jesse. "He's just a boy."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several Elite press their mouths into thin lines. Anger was clear on their faces, making them all look the same for the first time ever. The others just looked cautious.
"Just listen, Natalie. Stay away from him until we can explain," Jesse said. "He's not who you think he is."
"I don't think he's anything. As far as I know he's just a guy who moved here from Maine."
"Well he's not," Keenan snapped.
All of them looked at him and he grimaced, knowing he said something wrong. He took a step back, the only submissive gesture I'd ever seen him take in his life. There was a reason why he was a line backer on the football team. The guy was huge, always was, probably always would be.
"Natalie."
I looked back at Caroline and nodded. Time for class. Personally, I didn't know how exactly I was supposed to concentrate on class with all this...weirdness going on. The second I left the room, I heard discussion break out inside. I almost turned and went back to listen, find out exactly what had worked them into a frenzy but Caroline urged me forward.
We stopped at my locker. They'd replaced them the year before and the teachers told us we would keep the same one until we graduated. Apparently they got tired of reassigning them every year. Technically there was nothing I needed to put in there. I hadn't received any of my books yet or anything. But I felt the need to stick my head in the locker and just...hide for a second. The door shielded me from Caroline who stood dutifully next to me, classmate-watching as she waited.
I didn't know if it was then, or the next period, or even lunch, but I noticed they weren't going to leave me alone. An Elite was always around, always remaining close. Sometimes there was more than one, sitting in pairs so there was nothing to suspect. I don't know if I was supposed to notice but as the final bell rang, my attention was torn away from them for a moment as Chris stood waiting for me outside the classroom.
"Hey," I said, hesitantly.
"I think," he sighed, "we should talk."
"If it's about what Allie said..."
"It is." He nodded once. "But it's about other stuff too."
"Ok. Do you want to stay on campus or..."
"I'll meet you back at your house. I think it's good mutual ground."
I grimaced. "I'm supposed to..."
"Oh," his eyes got wide, "I forgot. I'm sorry. Um...ok." He nodded like he was working out the details in his head. He was probably depending on the drive to my house to get his thoughts together and his courage higher than normal. "Then I'll walk you to your car and try to get this out without sounding like a complete asshole."
"You could never be an asshole, Chris."
I slipped my arm through his, resting my head against his shoulder.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure the opinion you have of me will change once you hear what I have to say."
"If it's horrible, can you just...break it to me gently? I've had enough information dumped on me today."
He patted my hand where it rested against his arm.
"I'll try my best."
"Ok. Then go ahead. I'm ready for you to tell me that you really don't like me. You don't want to go to dinner and the only reason you said it was so..."
He pulled me to a stop, staring at me in...well, I didn't know what it was. The emotion was like a cross between disbelief and anger.
"No, Nat. That's not...no."
"Oh," I sighed and smiled. "Good. Then what else would make you sound like an asshole?"
All of our classmates mingled around us, all in various stages of finishing up the day. Book bags would be heavy with books since the teachers always gave homework on the first day. It was as if they were testing to see how much we could carry before our backs would break. My AP Bio book had to weigh a good ten pounds.
"Allie was right."
It was my turn to stop and stare. He stood in front of me, watching my reaction as it shifted from disbelief to holy crap.
"Really?" My voice was small, a barely there whisper. He nodded. "Why didn't you ever...really?"
He looked embarrassed and hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack. "It's not exactly an easy subject, Nat. I wasn't even the one to tell you. I'm not exactly happy with Allie. She just blurted it out like that, like it didn't mean anything. That's not how I wanted you to find out."
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Look, Nat, I know where you stand. I'm not diluted on that part in any way. Telling you would've just made things awkward and more difficult than they had to be. I was hoping we could just...ease into it. If at all."
"That's why you kept asking me out."
"Pretty much," he said, his tone light but nervous. "Now that you know, I'm afraid you don't want..."
"No, look, Chris. I'm not going to promise you anything, but I still want to have dinner. We can go as friends, like we planned, and if something comes of it then...great. If anything, I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get your hopes up in case nothing happens."
"I would be perfectly happy with just pretending Allie didn't say anything but since the cat is out of the bag..."
"I will do my best to shove it in the deepest, darkest parts of my mind."
"You have those?"
"Ah, you're a joker now."
"I'm getting lessons."
*
This time I was waiting in the doctor's actual office, staring at the ceiling much like my father was doing next to me. We were sitting the exact same way, hands folded over our stomach/legs stretched out in front of us and crossed at the ankle/head tipped back. When Dr. Wilson came in, he smiled but didn't say anything about our likeness. He wasn't one to repeat things he knew were told to us quite often.
"So," he settled into his chair behind his desk, "how are we today?"
"You already asked me that today," I said, tipping my head up to look at him. "The answer hasn't changed."
My father had straightened up completely, looking more like a parent/business man and less like a bored teenager. "Natalie."
"I'm fine," I said in a chipper voice.
Dr. Wilson just chuckled and flipped open the file, reading over the blood test results. "Well," his sigh was heavy, "we have confirmation of Natalie's Sickness. Her white cell count is in the right range. As is her temperature."
My father sighed heavily and I reached over to take his hand. "It's ok, Dad."
"What are the odds?"
"She's still in the early stages so we don't really know. How The Sickness progresses will be the telltale sign of the outcome. Some have experienced nothing more than the cough while others present with the severe symptoms of the flu."
I knew this was coming but I still couldn't believe it. There was no more denying it, even though I probably would. I was big on denial at this point. My father was the one I was worried about. Losing my mother to cancer was both seen and unseen because like all the other times, we thought she would get through it and go into remission. But where her mind was strong and committed, her body was weak and unable to stand another round of treatment.
The thoughts my father must be having now...
"There's no reason to be disheartened," Dr. Wilson said. "Natalie is at a distinct advantage over others who are currently struck with The Sickness."
"What do you mean?" my father asked.
"The survival rate is high as they get older. When the Sickness usually strikes, they're fourteen. The immune system is still young, still trying to build itself up. There's a reason, as you get older, that you don't get as sick as often. The gene that The Sickness is generally associated with is triggered by the beginning of puberty and by the time it reaches it peak, The Sickness begins. For Natalie, the fact that she's a late bloomer is in her favor. The Sickness is less likely to kill her since she's older and around more of the Elite. Her immune system is strong and she's as healthy as a horse."
"What does being around the Elite have to do with it?" I asked.
"It's a pheromone they put off. It helps lessen the symptoms and makes the transition easier."
"Then why didn't you..."
I quickly cut off my words and bit my bottom lip. Nothing would come of blaming Dr. Wilson for what happened to Cecil. Or any of the other kids that died because of it.
"We did and we do," he said softly. "Some states even have a law that requires for the week The Sickness takes hold of the child, they are to be taken to a retreat where they are surrounded by Elite. However, research states that it doesn't always help and the mortality rate doesn't change dramatically."
I suddenly remembered the afternoon Cecil's condition was worsening and my father took me home. Several people were waiting in the living room, all of them with colored lines on their faces. I thought they were just there to help or something. They were there to help but in a whole different way than I originally thought.
"What is the percentage?" my father asked. "For someone her age who gets...The Sickness."
"95% survival rate." My father brightened at that. "However, the blood transfusions tend to be more often and a tad more painful."
"That should be interesting," I mumbled.
"Why's that, dear?"
"Alagracia is throwing her a party. For her birthday."
"Ah, yes," he smiled, "I heard a rumor about a grand party at the club on Saturday."
"She's not going to be happy that she has to cancel," I said.
"Why would she do that?" Dr. Wilson asked, looking confused. "The Sickness should pass through your system just like a cold would, only the remedy is a bit more invasive. But we've perfected the transfusion process and you should be able to go about your life like normal. The after effects shouldn't last more than a couple of hours."
"What about golf? My last summer tournament is on Friday and Saturday morning."
He grimaced, tilting his head a little to the side. "I wouldn't recommend strenuous activity towards the end. You'll be rundown enough as it is. Possible fatigue, nausea..."
"So if I'm feeling ok then I can do it?"
"Natalie, I think for now we can put golf on hold," my father said.
I looked at him and he looked back. When I was younger, I always thought of him as the most handsome man on the planet. I guess all children think that of their parents. He was tall (even though I was short at the time, he's still tall now), he had the same color hair as mine (a nice rich honey), and his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors (ranging from green one day to blue the next depending on his mood). I'd wanted my father's eyes once upon a time but after my mother died, I changed my mind. Now I was glad every time I looked in the mirror a piece of her was looking back.
He looked weary now, almost as if he fit his age, which was forty-seven. He'd retired from golf when his hip gave out. I used to tease him that just because he looked like a thirty something guy didn't mean he needed to act like one.
"Please," he added. "I know it's important to you but..."
The rest of the sentence didn't need to be said and he knew it. Not wanting to be the rebellious teenager, I nodded in agreement.
"Thank you," he said.
Sure. I wasn't really sacrificing anything, just the last amateur golf tournament of the year. All for this stupid Sickness that I didn't want in the first place.