Projection (5 page)

Gretchen thought about ignoring this latest one at the door, but she walked downstairs anyway. It had been over a week since she’d talked to anyone but her dad. At this point, even a real estate agent would be a welcome distraction.

“Who is it?” she called through the door.

“It’s Jess. Can I come in?”

Gretchen’s pulse quickened. She unlocked the door and found her friend standing on the welcome mat, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a White Stripes T-shirt that Gretchen had never seen before.

“Hey,” Jessica mumbled, looking down at the ground. “I’m really sorry that I’ve been MIA. Things have been crazy busy for me.” Gretchen wanted so badly to be the kind of person who could just forgive and forget. The kind of person who wouldn’t ask where she’d been or be mad at her for having disappeared. But she wasn’t.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been really busy, too,” she said, sarcastically. “It takes up a lot of time to sit by yourself all day, wondering who killed your mom and why your best friend doesn’t respond to your texts anymore.”

Jessica bit the already red, chewed-up skin around her fingernails. It was a gross habit she had, one that Gretchen knew
got worse when she was stressed out. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“Yeah, you have.” She was trying to sound angry, but her voice broke, giving away the raw hurt underneath.

The two of them stared at each other in awkward silence.

“Would you forgive me if I did Mr. Pants?” Jessica finally asked.

Gretchen did her best not to smile. Mr. Pants was Jessica’s favorite stuffed animal from when she was little: a worn, brown bear that for some reason wore a pair of bright yellow pants. They used to put on plays with him when they were younger, and Jessica had this crazy Mr. Pants voice that Gretchen could never get her to do anymore, no matter how much she begged.

Gretchen raised her eyebrows.
She must feel really bad if she’s willing to do Mr. Pants
. “Maybe.”

Jessica smiled. She tucked her chin down into her neck and raised her shoulders up by her ears. “Hello, Gretchen,” she said in a deep, raspy, vaguely Southern smoker’s voice. “Mr. Pants sure wishes that you wouldn’t be mad at his pal Jessica anymore. Hey, do you know why I wear these yellow pants, anyway?”

Gretchen kept a straight face and shook her head.

“Well now, it’s simple. If I didn’t wear pants, everyone would be able to see my junk.”

In spite of her best efforts, Gretchen smiled. She rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said, resignedly, as she waved Jessica into the foyer. “You had me at hello.”

Jessica’s eyes refused to
stay put while Gretchen talked; they kept darting around the bedroom. “I was thinking before that I wish I could just leave here and go to boarding school,”
Gretchen admitted. “But I don’t think my dad could handle it. Do you?”

“Uh-huh,” Jessica replied, nodding.

Gretchen gave her a confused look. “You
do
think he could handle it?”

Finally, Jessica’s eyes focused on Gretchen. “Wait, what?” she asked.

Gretchen crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is something wrong? Because you’re acting really weird.”

Jessica bit her lip and stared at the floor, and then looked Gretchen in the eye. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m right here,” Gretchen said, exasperated. “Talk.”

“Okay, well, I really don’t know how to say this, like, at all. And the thing is it sounds crazy … it sounds like
I’m
crazy, but I’m not, and so you have to believe me that what I’m about to tell you really is true.”

“Just say it,” Gretchen demanded.

Jessica inhaled, then let it out in one long, deep breath. “The Oculus Society is not just about promoting classical Greek education and doing philanthropy. That’s what they tell everyone, and it’s what most of the members think. But its real purpose is to protect a secret that’s been passed down from generation to generation since, well, since the early days of the Roman Empire.” She paused.

Gretchen’s eyes narrowed. This was definitely
not
what she’d been expecting from Jessica. “What’s the secret?”

“Okay so, this is where it gets weird.” She dug into her bag and pulled out around a dozen pages of printouts. “I did some research.”

Gretchen frowned. “Can’t you summarize? I really don’t feel like reading all of that right now.”

Jessica sat down on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flitted
around the room again, as if she were searching for something that might help her to explain.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Here’s the deal: there was this guy named Plotinus, who was a Greek philosopher who lived in Rome. He believed that everything in the universe was all part of something he called The One. But that part’s not really important—the important thing is that he believed people could project their souls out of their bodies. In the beginning, he projected his soul through the Oculus in the Pantheon. He described himself floating with the stars, and he said he could see the Earth below him, including his own body, which looked asleep. Are you following me so far?”

Gretchen nodded. She was following, but she couldn’t imagine where Jessica was going.

Jessica continued. “Well, later on, he realized that he could do more than that. Instead of just projecting his soul into space or wherever, he figured out that he could actually project into another person, and they could project into him. They could trade souls.”

“Like in
Freaky Friday
?” Gretchen asked, skeptically.

Jessica smiled. “Exactly like in
Freaky Friday
.”

Gretchen grinned again, in spite of herself.
This is
so
Jessica
, she thought.
Leave it to her to make up a crazy story to take my mind off of my problems
. She had to admit it, though; it was working. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually smiled.

She rubbed her palms back and forth against each other, getting into the game. “Okay, so let me guess how they did it. Let’s see … they both wished they could become the other at exactly the moment a bolt of lightning struck. No, wait. That’s too cliché. Okay, I know. They both threw a penny into a fountain and made the same wish at the same exact time.”

“No,” Jessica said. “It’s nothing like that.” She hesitated for a moment. “They had to kiss.”

Gretchen blinked. “Oh. That’s good.” She gave Jessica a look that said
you are so bad
and continued to play along. “And of course, people in the Oculus Society do this. They kiss each other and trade souls.”

“Not people,” Jessica corrected. “Only one person. Well, obviously you need two people, but only one person is chosen by the Oculus Society to do it,” she explained. “She’s called the
Odeetees
. It’s Greek for leader.”

“And who’s that?” Gretchen asked with a smile. “Who has this magical power to trade souls with whoever they want?”

Jessica sighed. “It was your mom, Gretch.”

Gretchen stopped smiling. Stopped breathing, actually. “My mom?” She shook her head. “That’s not funny, Jessica.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Gretchen.”

Gretchen looked Jessica in the eye. “You’re saying this is all true? And that my mom could trade souls with people?”

“Not with people,” Jessica corrected, again. “With one member of the Oculus Society. A member of her choosing. The
Etaíros
.”

“Who?”

“Tina Holt.”

Gretchen’s lips twisted in a grimace. “You think my mom made out with Tina Holt? I don’t believe you. This is ridiculous.” She felt her eyes welling up with tears; if she hadn’t been able to cry in the days following her mother’s death, she was sure making up for it now. It felt like all she did anymore was cry. She crossed her arms and turned around so Jessica wouldn’t see her tears.

“They didn’t
make out
,” Jessica explained. “It’s more like breathing into someone else’s mouth than kissing.” She
paused. “I’m sorry, Gretch. I know this is a lot to take in. I just … I had to tell you. There’s so much going on right now, and it’s all really confusing, and I couldn’t keep it from you any longer.”

Gretchen wiped the tears out of her eyes. Her hand was shaking. If this was a joke, it had gone way too far.

“There’s something else,” Jessica said, slowly.

Great
, Gretchen thought. She didn’t say anything, and she still wasn’t willing to turn around; she just waited for Jessica to go on.

“I think my aunt might have had something to do with your mom’s murder.”

Amphiclea arrived at the
Pantheon just before midnight, exactly as Gemina had instructed. The moon was full, perfectly aligned with the great round window in the ceiling, casting a soft light across the marble floor.

A few white-plumed pigeons strutted by her, pecking at the ground. She watched them so intently that she didn’t notice Gemina and Plotinus entering behind her. Gemina placed a hand on her shoulder, and Amphiclea jumped. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, but nonetheless, her heart pounded at the unfamiliar feeling of being out so late at night without her husband.

Amphiclea and Gemina kissed each other on each of their cheeks, and Plotinus reached out and took Amphiclea’s hand. He was a small man, hardly taller than Gemina, and though he was only in his forties, his hair had already turned white. With his somber disposition, he appeared much older than he was. He spoke in a quiet, low voice, and Amphiclea had to lean in to hear him.

“Dear Amphiclea, we are indebted to you for agreeing to join us here tonight.”

“It is my honor,” Amphiclea replied.

Plotinus smiled slightly. “I trust Gemina has explained to you your role here?”

Amphiclea nodded. “I am to be a witness, but beyond that, I’m afraid I am not exactly clear on what it is I am to do.”

Gemina looked sheepishly at Plotinus. There was just enough moonlight for Amphiclea to see that her cheeks had turned red. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t quite understand it myself, Plotinus, so I did not know how to explain it to another.”

“Ah, yes, I see,” Plotinus said. “The concept of projection can be quite confusing to the uninitiated. But it’s really quite simple. As the witness, you will watch me and Gemina simultaneously project, or trade, our souls. Only you will know that we are not really who we appear to be. Should something happen to either of us where we must reveal the truth, it is your responsibility to step forward and corroborate our story. But most importantly, you must ensure that we return to our proper bodies.”

“But how?”

Plotinus’s expression turned grave. “What Gemina and I are doing is very dangerous. If she or I were to be caught and imprisoned, it is imperative that we be able to see each other so that we can project ourselves back. It is your duty, Amphiclea, to make sure that happens. No matter what, you must find a way for us to be together, even if only for a few minutes.”

Amphiclea felt like she might faint. This was more than she had bargained for. Sensing her distress, Gemina put her arm around Amphiclea’s shoulder.

“It won’t happen,” she assured her. “Plotinus and I will be careful, and we’ll return to ourselves as quickly as possible.”

Amphiclea nodded, trying to be brave. “I understand,” she said.

“One more thing,” Plotinus added. “You must wear the anklet Gemina gave you at all times. I made reference to it in my writings: ‘she who wears the anklet shall know the truth.’ If you must come forward, show my diary, and the anklet will serve as further proof that what you say is true.”

“I’m wearing it,” Amphiclea said. She lifted her robe to reveal the amber disc on the gold chain; it glowed as it caught the moonlight.

“Then we’re ready to proceed,” Plotinus whispered. He took Gemina by the hand and led her forward, directly under the oculus. The two of them sat down on the ground facing each other, and Gemina placed her hands on top of Plotinus’s own. Amphiclea stood back, watching them in silence.

“Close your eyes,” Plotinus instructed Gemina in a low voice. “Now breathe slowly, and picture the universe. Picture the people and the animals and the plants and the trees. Picture everything that’s living. And now picture them free of their mortal bodies, floating together as one great energy. Feel that energy in you, Gemina. Feel it in your toes, in your legs, in your stomach. Feel it in your fingers and your hands, in your breast, in your throat. Feel it in your heart. Feel it in your mind.” He lowered his voice and spoke quietly in Greek, the phrase that he’d been perfecting for nearly a year. The phrase that would release their souls. “
Écho exorísei aíma egó dió xei ostó n, proválloun ti n psychí mou se állo spíti
.” He leaned in toward Gemina, placing his lips on hers. “Now, breathe deeply and exhale,” he whispered.

Amphiclea closed her eyes. It felt wrong for them to be so
intimate with each other, and more wrong still for her to be watching them. She heard them both loudly exhale, and then she heard the soft tinkle of Gemina’s laugh, like the bells rung in town after a baby has been born.

She opened her eyes. They were still sitting there, except instead of holding hands, Plotinus was touching Gemina’s face as if he’d never seen it before.

“This is miraculous,” he said, running his fingers over Gemina’s lips. “I feel so …” he looked down at himself, turning his hands over and then touching his chest, his stomach, his hips. “I feel so strong!” he exclaimed.

Gemina laughed again. “And I feel so soft. It’s quite remarkable.”

Suddenly, Plotinus jumped up and ran toward Amphiclea, hugging her excitedly. “Did you see it happen? Was there any sign of it?”

Amphiclea backed away from Plotinus uncomfortably. “A sign of what?”

Plotinus laughed, his eyes sparkling in a way that Amphiclea had never seen before. “Amphiclea, it’s me! Gemina! It worked!” Amphiclea stared at Plotinus, disbelieving. “Ask me something,” Plotinus said. “Something only I—I mean, Gemina—would know.”

Amphiclea thought for a moment. “What did you say to me about my father the night before I was married?”