Icon of the Indecisive (6 page)

Chapter 14

Talking to Diego could be infuriating, but afterward I suddenly had the urge to do actual work. Like on my goddess project, which I kept setting aside. At least I could put in work hours and do research at the same time, because as student employee of the Guidance Office, I had access to non-confidential student records. I immediately called up a few: Jessica Torres, Justin Acapulco, Marlee Manansala.

Jessica Torres, sophomore, apparently of the Torres clan so heavily invested in this town, where Ford River was located. Never visited the Guidance Office except to take the annual personality test. Five records for disciplinary action, no specifics in the non-confidential version, but they couldn't have been that bad because she was still in school. Unless the Torres clan influence was what kept her here. She was invited to the "academic adjustment seminar" twice, which meant she was twice in danger of flunking out
—but she didn't show up either.

Justin Acapulco. Junior, majoring in management, skipped his second annual personality test, member of the arts society, the wine club, and student government. The file on him was standard, nothing too controversial.

That kind of student should have been normal in every other school, but ours had a higher percentage of Rich Kids that used Ford River as a safety school, and that meant a lot of them had "incidents" on their records. Like traffic violations around the campus, assaults, minor drug busts.

Justin had none of those though. In fact, his profile was a bit boring.

Marlee August Manansala. Sophomore, financial aid recipient in her second year. (How did she afford the first year, I wondered, as someone who also needed a sponsor.) Consistent dean's list honoree, writer, assistant essay editor at the literary publication. Five appointments at Guidance in four semesters so far. No details were on the record except that she was seeing Sir Gino (the other counselor, not Ms. Farrah).

"She was always really sensitive," Jessica said, between sniffles. "Tough times growing up and stuff. She has an actual therapist, you know? Since she was twelve. She's harder on herself really than anybody."

Good thing they had a supply of tissues in the counseling rooms, because Jessica used up the box within minutes. It happened to be a light day, no appointments, so when she dropped by all of a sudden wanting to talk, I took her into one of them for some privacy.

"I haven't been able to talk to anyone about this," she said.

"Well
someone
has to know," I said, and that was just me with normal person concern. "I don't know how to help a pregnant person, Jessica. I mean, shouldn't you be taking vitamins by now or something?"

As she talked about folic acid and secret doctor's appointments, I heard that song, that plea from her heart, and it brought me right into a memory.

December. Colder weather, a party with some candles, and ham, and beer, and people laughing around a piano. Jessica in a short red dress, surveying the crowd from the second floor, and spotting Justin. He looked different in motion (more mature, masculine, self-assured) than his student record photo (sleepy, baby-faced, slouchy). But then, this was her memory of him, and maybe it was more forgiving of his slouchiness.

It was her house. Their friends. Justin had had two beers, but none for Jessica.

She knew what she was doing.

And what was it? She caught his eye from above and gestured to a hallway. She came down the staircase and walked toward it, with as little noise as she could manage, and then slipped into the room at the very end.

Less than a minute later Justin knocked on the door.

"What is this?" he asked, glancing around the dark room with concern.

"My dad's office. He's not here," she said, before grabbing his shoulders and kissing him full on the mouth.

"Jess, everyone's outside
—"

She pulled away and raised an eyebrow, listening to the laughter and music. "The neighbors will be hearing that. No one will be hearing anything from this room."

"She's outside."

Jessica wasn't bothered at all. "I'm going away the entire break. You really want to wait until after New Year?"

He couldn't look her straight in the eye, and it might have been the darkness, the beers, the guilt, or all of the above. But he kissed her anyway. And she pulled at his shirt.

And I coughed, blinked, the equivalent of looking away from
the thing I was seeing in my head
. I already knew what had become of that night, didn't need to see the full version.

"What do you want, Jessica?" I asked.

"He won't choose me," she whined into another tissue. "He won't do that to her."

"He already
did
this to her."

"It doesn't matter what happens next, Hannah. I might as well just drop out and never come back. It's better that way. He'll find out, and he'll deny it, and I won't have him and she'll never be my friend again. I can't win."

I paused at this, and fiddled with my phone as I tried to think of what to say.

So far the many problems I'd heard, at least the ones I'd been allowed to hear, I had been able to solve by simply giving their hearts simple directions. Be patient. Be brave. Walk away. Try again.

I couldn't do this now for Jessica because no matter what I said, no matter what she tried to do, she'd lose someone.

"Jessica," I began, "I can't help you right now."

She didn't get that. "No one can help me right now."

No, I mean, the Interim Goddess of Love can't give you what you want right now.
It was too complicated. I needed to learn more about Justin and Marlee.

The bell rang, and that meant ten minutes to my next class. Jessica thanked me for listening, and said she was heading home anyway. When we left the counseling room, I found Quin sitting in front of my usual desk at the Guidance Office.

"What's up?"

"Training," he said, handing me my bag, knowing I was on my way out. "I think you're ready for something new."

"But I can't skip class. I'm in so much trouble as it is."

He shook his head. "You won't need to skip class at all."

Huh? I didn't get it.

Quin didn't say anything more as he walked with me two floors up to my Psychology Research class. Which wasn't an odd thing, him walking and not saying anything, so I just waited.

And then we got to my classroom and I looked back at him before going in. "What exactly about training...?"

Quin tapped my shoulder and gestured for me to go in. "Just go to class."

"What?"

"Go to class."

"Um, okay."

"And when it happens, don't scream."

Chapter 15

I am standing on something. It's flat, and damp, and crumbly.

I look down. It's dirt.

My feet are bare.

"Don't scream," Quin says, and when I look up he's there. It's really Quin as in Quin Apolinario, senior at Ford River, and his faded red shirt with a collar, and his jeans, exactly the Quin Apolinario who walked me to my classroom just seconds ago. But he's standing on the damp earth with me, and the sun is shining, and the hill some distance behind him is green and lush.

I whipped my head quickly to my left, and I was in my classroom. In my seat on the second row. And my teacher continued to talk in front of me, and my classmates continued to click away at their laptops, tap away on their tablets.

I turn my head to the right, again, and I am with him. Just him. On this field of green and brown.

"Don't scream," he reminds me.

I press a hand to my mouth.

"You can talk," he says. "Relax and try it."

I shake my head and bite my lips. I turn my head to the left.

And I was back in my classroom, biting my lips, shaking my head at nothing. I could hear him though, calling my name gently, but he
wasn't
physically where my senses were placing him.

This scared me.

"Hannah," Quin says. "Don't freak out. You can do this. Relax and talk to me. You can talk to me without moving, without anyone in that classroom knowing.”

I turn toward him again and the sun is in my eyes. I try to relax. My hands slowly come back down to my sides.

"Quin," and that comes out of my mouth
—but only here. I am aware of myself also in the classroom, at the same time, staring at the whiteboard without really seeing it.

He is pleased to see me do this. "I knew you could do it."

"W-what...?" I say, not daring to do more.

"You can talk to me like this, Hannah. Any time. It doesn't matter where I am."

This is how they really communicate?

"Where?" I say, and with more confidence.

"Where are we? Exactly the same place."

But it doesn't look like the same place. First of all, no classroom, no students, no Ford River.

Quin asks me to look all around me and I do—and this time I don't flash back into the classroom. I see a three-sixty-degree view of where I am, and it is lush and clean and beautiful nature.

It feels like my goddess dreams.

"Why is it different?" I manage to say.

"Most of what's in the world is temporary. The chair you're on, the classroom, the school, that tree, this shirt, my face. But there are things that are constant, eternal, and that is what we see here. You're only seeing me now as the Quin you've always known, because I think it will be easier for you. It doesn't have to be the case."

In all of my goddess dreams Quin looks different, but I know it's him.

"I understand," I say.

"You know why you have to learn how to do this?"

I once asked him why he chose to spend so much time at a college in the middle of nowhere. Doesn't the Sun God have more important things to do, I said. And he asked me why I thought he was only in one place at a time.

He isn't bound by space. He is in jeans and a red shirt on a hallway in Ford River, and he's here in an eternal space with me. And he's probably somewhere else, doing things, making things happen, who knows how many pieces of him all around.

This is how they get everything done.

This is how they rule their kingdoms.

This is how I'm supposed to rule mine.

I'm aware of my hand lifting—in the classroom—and I'm uncapping a pen, and I'm opening my notebook to a fresh page, and I'm taking notes. Sol, beside me, asks me a question, and I answer with only half a moment's delay.

I am there in that room, but I am also here.

"This is crazy," I say, to Quin.

"You'll get used to it," Quin says. "It's faster when you don't need words anymore."

He looks so proud of me that I can't help but feel happy too. And it's like I'm cutting class but not! This is awesome.

I look
down at my feet again and they are indeed my feet. These are my legs. And my hands. And most likely my actual face. I am in this space with Quin and I am me, not someone else.

This is a great experience, and it gives me confidence all of a sudden.

"My new project is really difficult," I tell him. My voice in here sounds normal now, and my classroom self continues to write. "Jessica, the girl who visited me at Guidance. I can't give her what she wants."

Quin isn't concerned. "You'll teach her to long for the truth. That's all."

"I wish it were that simple."

"It's always that simple."

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

"I'm just happy to know I'm right about you."

"So how do we... hang up?"

He smiles. Again. It's a world record. "It's over when you say it is, Hannah."

And I was back in the classroom, my hand still writing, my pen only momentarily stumbling as I returned to full consciousness.