Extraordinary October (9 page)

“No!”

I looked up. It was the girl in the cage. “No!” She said again. The bartender growled and threw a beer at her. It hit the floor and broke. I was shocked to watch her slurping alcohol off the pieces of broken glass. When she looked at me again, her tongue was bleeding. “Don't start,” she whispered to me.

Then, all the way on the other side of the room, I saw a small person hop up on a stool. Green! What was he doing here? He was too small and way too young to be in this crowd. He waved and gestured for me to follow him.

“October!” he called.

My head cleared. Following him seemed like a very good thing to do. I handed the glass back to Trevor.

“I have to go.”

Trevor was instantly furious, his rage turning his face purple. “We were having so much fun!”

My hands itched. I looked down. Once again they were covered in red welts. I looked across the crowd at Green. He was like an island and I was drowning. I needed to get to him.

“See you tomorrow in school.” I didn't listen to Trevor's reply and swam through the crowd toward Green. Enoki tried to grab me, other people pulled at me, hanging onto my clothing, but I brushed them off. I heard the girl in the cage scream. I didn't look back.

Green ran up some stairs leading out of the club and I took them two at a time. “Green!” His shiny black hair flashed under a single hanging light bulb in the dark hallway. “Chris! Wait!” He went through a door and let it shut behind him. I pulled it open, stepped through, and suddenly I was falling blind through warm sand. The same sand I thought I'd been in when I ran into the school wall with Walker. I tried to call Green's name, but my mouth filled and I choked. I coughed and waved my arms frantically. Then I smelled Chinese food.

10.

The smell of Chinese food—that delicious, oily, soy saucy smell—saved me. I'm not kidding. I took a deep sniff, relaxed, and the sand melted away. I opened my eyes and found myself in the booth of my favorite Chinese restaurant. The same red vinyl seat covers, the same thick white tablecloths and squat glass jars of hot mustard and duck sauce. I saw the waiter I'd known since I was a little kid, Mr. Bob, in the back by the kitchen. This was the only restaurant my parents would go to and I had always loved it. Everything looked completely normal, but I knew it couldn't be. How had I gotten there? Where was the club? My mouth was watering. The peanuts I'd eaten back in my room seemed like a year ago.

A dog barked. I knew dogs weren't allowed in restaurants. It barked again and I heard its toenails clicking toward me on the tile floor. “We're here,” the dog said. “Hey, hey, here we are.” First I'd been able to understand birds, now I was translating dog speak. I loved animals, but no one could talk to them for real. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Walker was walking toward me with a fluffy, black dog at his side. I was so happy to see him. Relieved, safe, all those good feelings he gave me. And then I was just confused. What the hell was going on?

The dog jumped up beside me on the bench and licked my face. “Nice to meet you, happy to see you, isn't this place great?” and its tail was wagging. It had the sweetest dog breath I'd ever smelled.

“Down, Oberon, down,” Walker said. “On the floor. Sit.”

Oberon got off the bench and sat obediently, but I didn't need to translate to understand the dog didn't want to. He was wiggling back and forth, his tail going ninety miles a minute. I gave him a pat on the head and I saw that the red bumps on my hand were gone.

Walker sat down across from me. He smiled and his blue eyes were filled with concern.

I didn't want to, but I started to cry. “What's wrong with me?”

“You need to eat.” He gestured for Mr. Bob. “Isn't this your favorite place?”

“How did you know?”

“I'm trying.”

He took my hands and my breath caught in my throat. That touch. That tingle only he produced.

“Tell me,” he said. “What happened to you tonight?”

I tried to stop crying, but the tears kept falling. “I met this girl, Enoki, Trevor's sister, and she told me she'd help me find Luisa, but I jumped out of her car and then she pulled me into a club. A horrible club and everybody looked like her except these poor skinny alcoholics in cages.”

Walker spoke quietly and his eyes narrowed. “In cages?”

“The bartender made this poor girl dance before he'd give her a drink. And she did it.” I didn't tell him about her licking alcohol off the broken glass, it was too awful. “The guy did whatever they asked too, just so he could have a beer.”

Walker squeezed my hands so hard it hurt. He was furious.

“We should call the cops,” I said. “It's not right. It isn't. I tried to stop them.”

“You did? Oh, October.” The way he looked at me made me blush.

“But then Trevor was there, and he and everybody wanted me to take a sip of a drink, this bright, glow in the dark kind of drink. It smelled so good and I almost did, almost, I wanted to, but then I saw Green—Chris Lee, you know, from the experiment—and I followed him out and I fell into this sand.” I shook my head, that couldn't be true. “And I ended up here.” I looked around. “That club must be nearby. Maybe through the kitchen? In the alley behind?”

Mr. Bob walked up to the table with a tray of food. I was mortified when my stomach grumbled. Mr. Bob put down all my favorite dishes, Kung Pao Tofu and Garlic Spinach and Sesame Noodles. He put a dish of beef and broccoli on the floor for Oberon. Maybe Oberon was a service dog.

“October.” Mr. Bob smiled at me. “Eat. Talk later. Eat now.”

That's what he had always said when I was a kid. I guess I was a chatterbox. But hearing the familiar phrase just emphasized all the craziness that was going on. The tears began again. Mr. Bob handed me another napkin.

“What is going on?” I said. “I'm hearing voices. I'm falling through sand.” I looked around. “None of the people in this restaurant look normal. Except you, Mr. Bob, and you, Walker. And since when do you allow dogs in here?”

It was true. The other tables contained the oddest collection of diners. Skin rusty brown, or gray like a kitten, or almost green, or very pink, wild hair, weird noses and everybody tiny and short or long and tall. There were a few exquisitely beautiful people, something like the poor creatures in the cages, but healthy and happy and drinking tea. It was not a clientele I had seen there before, and my parents had been taking me to Big Wok since I was born.

Mr. Bob said, “I'll get you more napkins. You're going to need them.”

Walker spooned food onto my plate. “Here,” he said. “Have a bite at least.”

I picked up my chopsticks thinking I'd have one polite bite, but once I started I couldn't stop. I was ravenous. It was so good and he was right, the food made me feel better. It was hard to cry and eat at the same time.

“Whose voice?” Walker asked. “Do you know whose voice you hear?”

“It must be me, my inner voice, but it doesn't sound like me. She keeps telling me to go find Luisa and that I know where she is. She also said Luisa is missing because of me.”

“Don't listen to that voice.”

“It's ridiculous, right? It's just guilt speaking. I wish I could find Luisa.”

“But you can't. You shouldn't.”

I looked at him.

“They'll find her,” he said.

He sounded so sure. I took a deep breath. I put more food on my plate. Walker hadn't eaten anything. “Don't you want something?”

“Save me some noodles.”

“Better eat them fast.”

He laughed. And, even as confused and worried as I was feeling, I did too. I decided whatever he told me I could deal with. I just wanted the truth.

“Please tell me what's happening here. I know things are not normal. I know it.”

Oberon finished his dinner. Sleepily he climbed up on the bench and half into my lap. He looked up over the table at Walker and gave a little humpf. Walker nodded—as if they had communicated somehow.

“Okay. Okay.” Walker sighed. “I'm not supposed to tell you any of this—I could lose my job. I shouldn't tell you; it should be your mom or dad.”

“I'm going crazy. Is that it? You're not a psychology student, you're a psychiatrist and you've been sent to take me to the loony bin. Right after my very favorite last meal.”

He didn't laugh. “I wish that was it.” He saw the look on my face. “Of course I don't wish you were crazy, but this is hard. And I could really get in trouble, but I don't know what else to do.” He paused. “You're almost eighteen.”

“I wish everyone would stop talking about it.”

“It's an important birthday. Think about it. Have you suddenly grown taller? Do you run faster?”

“How do you know?”

“Any marks that weren't there before?”

I thought of the flower-shaped bruise on my ankle and decided that wasn't something I wanted to share. I shook my head. “No. Maybe. Not really.”

“October, do you have any idea how special you are?”

I looked up with a mouth full of spinach and rice, swallowed quickly and had to take a drink of water. “Yeah, right,” I said. “Average height. Average weight. Plain brown hair, brown eyes. Average—” I stopped myself from going on. It's not a good thing to point out your average-ness to the world's best looking guy.

“Those are human qualities,” Walker said dismissively. “They don't mean anything.”

“They do to a human. Like me.”

He sighed. He pushed his curly blond hair back and for the first time I noticed his ears. They were a little pointy at the top. “Remember the fireflies?”

“How do you know about them?”

“They came for you. Only for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I felt that flow between us, the waterway of emotions and thoughts and hopes and fears going back and forth and I know he felt it too. He pulled his hand away.

“I shouldn't. I can't. I don't want to be like him. I'm not like him.”

“You mean Trevor?”

“He wants you for one thing and one thing only.”

I blushed and then Walker blushed.

“No,” he said. “I don't mean that. He thinks… he thinks if he's with you then—” “Then what?”

He took a deep breath and leaned toward me. “You,” he whispered with a frown. “I didn't think you would be you. This would be so much easier if you weren't.”

Oberon gave a little whine in my lap. I imagined he said, “Oh brother.” I looked down. The dog gave a shake, yawned, and closed his eyes. I looked back at Walker and saw him struggling, fighting with himself. I wanted to be out of that restaurant and some place, anyplace, where we could be alone. I wanted my first official kiss to be with him, only him. What had I ever seen in Trevor? Walker filled me up, my chest and my head and my heart. “Let's go,” I said. “Where are you parked?”

“Please, Princess,” he said.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“First listen.”

I waited. He looked at me and then looked away. I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. I reached for his hand, but he pulled his away.

“I need to concentrate,” he said. “I know you're wondering why all these unusual things are happening to you. I know you think you're going crazy, but October, listen: none of it is a dream.”

If it wasn't a dream, then I had fallen into a Harry Potter book or something. And strangely, I was not completely surprised. This restaurant, the dog on my lap whose voice I understood, the violent crows in the park, running through walls, Enoki, and even the club were almost familiar. My shoulders relaxed. My breath slowed and I nodded. It was almost as if I had been waiting for this moment my whole life.

“Tell me,” I said.

“You're not who you think you are,” he said. “I don't know how to tell you more gently than that. Your parents are not who they seem.”

“I'm adopted?” It had occurred to me, as I think it does to every kid.

“No,” Walker sighed. “Your parents are just… different.”

“You got that right.”

“Do you ever wonder why your dad's so fat?”

“That's what Trevor asked me. He eats too much. Really. It's not his thyroid or anything. I've seen him.”

“But do you know why?”

“He loves food.”

“He's a fairy.”

“He's gay? Oh my God!” I was stunned. “But he and my mom—.”

“No, no, no. Listen,” Walker gritted his teeth. “Don't talk, don't say anything, just listen.”

I nodded.

“Your father is really, truly, honestly, completely a fairy. A magical fairy. Like the kind with wings that flit around and live in the woods. The kind from fairytales.”

Dad was the least fairy-like person I'd ever seen. “Where are his wings?”

“He had to give up flying to be with your mother.”

“So why is he fat? I thought fairies were little.”

“Fairies can't handle alcohol. One sip is too much and then they can't stop. Those poor creatures in the cages were fairies—and addicted. Your father, amazingly, got over his alcoholism. He's one of the very few. But he turned to food instead.”

Insane. “What about Mom? She's so skinny she must be a fairy.”

“Your mom is a troll. Like Trevor. A troll.” He didn't say it like he liked it. “She should be shorter and more muscled. Trolls are very strong. Life as a human has stretched her, weakened her.”

“She's a troll and he's a fairy.”

“Your parents have a mixed-marriage. The very first of its kind.”

“I don't believe it.”

But somewhere deep down inside, I did. Little things made sense. The way my father looked up at the trees and frowned on a summer evening. Maybe he missed flying. My mom would get frustrated she was so weak. Once she cried because she couldn't open a jar of spaghetti sauce. Maybe she missed her muscles.

“Your mom is a mycologist because she's a troll. Growing and harvesting mushrooms is what trolls do. Your dad loves birds because he's a fairy. Birds are to fairies like dogs are to people.”

I gave Oberon a pat. There was something feathery about the fur around his ears and over his eyes. “If all this is true, then what am I?”

“Unique. You're the only half fairy, half troll in the world.”

“But what does that mean?”

“Your powers could be amazing. Fairies can fly, we can do that crazy transplant thing.”

“Where we run into walls or out open doors and end up in sand?”

He nodded. “It's called transplanting. It's a way we can travel safely, go where we need to go. We're very smart.”

I interrupted. “You're obviously a fairy.”

He smiled, shrugged to say of course. “We can talk with animals and we live in the highest tops of trees.” Then he posed for me, like an ad in Vogue, until he laughed. “Fairies are also the most beautiful creatures on the planet. All the top models are fairies.”

That explained why models were all so tall and thin. “And trolls?”

He sneered. Trolls were obviously not high on his list. “Base, vulgar, shallow, self-serving, self-important.”

“Will I be like that?”

“You're not so far. Maybe you'll get their very few good qualities: strength, agility, speed.”

I remembered how fast I ran when I jumped out of Enoki's car, how falling on blacktop and rolling to my feet didn't hurt at all.

Walker shuddered. “Trolls spend their lives underground, in the dark. They stink.”