Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (11 page)

           
"What happened with the door?" I asked.
 
"Do the police know how it got pulled off its hinges?"

           
"Nope," Branden replied.
 
"They have no ideas.
 
No evidence."

           
I felt a strange sense of dread settle over me.
 
The conversation continued on around me, but I was lost in my own thoughts.
 
Things were getting stranger by the minute.
 
What could have happened to Mr. Del Gatto?
 
I turned the question over in my mind for a little while.
 
Then I remembered that the school had called in a sub – they had known ahead of time that Mr. Del Gatto would be out.
 
Branden must have gotten a hold of a wild rumor.
 
I figured Mr. Del Gatto was probably okay.

           
For some reason, though, I still felt uneasy.

           
The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, but I shook off my preoccupation as my final class drew to a close.
 
I had my appointment with Charisse.

           
When the final bell rang, I hurried to the picnic table out front in the schoolyard.
 
Charisse was sitting there, already waiting for me, and she jumped up to hug me.

           
"Oh, Katie!
 
I'm so happy!"

           
I stepped back from the embrace and looked at her, surprised.
 
"I'm happy to see you, too, I guess."

           
"I really never thought this could happen!" Charisse continued, holding onto my arms and spinning me around.
 
"It was such a surprise, and yet it's so right!"

           
"Does this mean that you’re finally going to tell me what your big secret is?" I asked.

           
Charisse stopped twirling and stared at me in surprise.
 
"Can't you guess?
 
I thought it was obvious.
 
I was sure you would figure it out long before I got the chance to tell you."

           
"Charisse!" I cried in frustration.
 
"I have no idea what you're talking about.
 
Just tell me."

           
Charisse held up one hand.
 
A gold band winked on her finger.

           
I peered at it closely.
 
Two hands cradled a heart that was topped by a crown.
 
"Is that a claddagh ring?"

           
"Yes!" Charisse cried.
 
"An Irish wedding ring.
 
Branden and I are getting married!"

           
I was stunned.
 
"What?"

           
Charisse laughed.
 
"I know!
 
Isn't it wonderful?"

           
"Charisse, are you crazy?"

           
Charisse's face fell.
 
"You aren't happy for me?"

           
"Well, no."

           
Charisse looked wounded.
 
"I was going to ask you to be my maid of honor."

           
"Maid of honor?"
 
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
 
"Charisse, you're only sixteen.
 
Your parents will never let you get married."

           
"I know," Charisse replied.
 
"That's why Branden and I have been so busy lately.
 
We had to arrange to get fake IDs and fake birth certificates.
 
That way we can pretend to be eighteen and get married without our parents' permission.
 
We don't have the IDs or the birth certificates yet, but we'll have them soon."

           
"What?" I cried.
 
"Are you crazy?"

           
Charisse was beginning to grow angry.
 
"You already said that."

           
"Charisse, you're buying forged documents?
 
Where are you getting them from?"

           
"Branden has some contacts," Charisse said stiffly.
 
"I'm certainly not going to tell you who they are.
 
Not if you're going to take this kind of an attitude."

           
"So that's why you've been late to classes and lunch," I said weakly.
 
I sat down on the bench by the picnic table.

           
Charisse stared at me.
 
"You act like we're criminals.
 
For your information, there was another reason we were busy."
 
She held up her hand again.
 
"We had to see a guy Branden knows about getting a ring.
 
We wanted it to be real gold."

           
"This guy didn't tell you it fell off the back of a truck, did he?"

           
Charisse shook her head, blinking back tears.
 
"You're my best friend.
 
You were supposed to be happy for me.
 
This wasn't how this was supposed to go at all."

           
The distress in Charisse's voice hurt me, but I couldn't think of her plan as being anything but a mistake.
 
"How did this happen?"

           
"You mean how did Branden propose?" Charisse asked frostily.
 
"Well, it may interest you to know that we know exactly what we're doing.
 
You'll understand after you hear the discussion we had.
 
On Monday, I was telling Branden about how my parents had finally decided to file for divorce, and how my dad had packed his bags and left.
 
Then Branden and I got to talking about how much we know about the way marriage should work
and
how we won't make the same mistakes our parents made.
 
Branden's parents were divorced when he was five, so he knows all about divorce, too.
 
Then we decided, why don't we get married?
 
We care about each other, and we know what we're doing, unlike so many other people.
 
I still thought we might wait a year or two, but Branden dropped down on one knee and asked me to marry him right then and there.
 
And I figured, why wait?
 
So I said yes, and now the two of us couldn't be happier."

           
I shook my head.
 
"Oh, Charisse, this is so wrong."

           
Charisse bristled.
 
"Why?
 
You don't believe that we know what we're doing?
 
No offense, Katie, but you don't know anything about divorce.
 
We know all about it.
 
It's not going to happen to us.
 
We can make it work."

           
I was shocked.
 
"So that's what this is all about?
 
You think you can make up for your parents' failed marriage with a marriage of your own?"

           
"Don't be ridiculous," Charisse snapped.
 
"You have no idea what you're talking about."

           
"I remember now," I said in a rush.
 
"When I asked you about the divorce yesterday, you said you were taking care of it.
 
Is this what you meant by taking care of it?"

           
"Katie!" Charisse cried.
 
"This is unbelievable.
 
How dare you try to psychoanalyze me?"

           
"Charisse, please just listen," I said. "You know I’m your best friend.
 
What you're talking about doing is illegal.
 
It will hurt your parents.
 
It will hurt Branden's parents.
 
You can't do this."

           
The tears that had threatened earlier now began to stream from Charisse's eyes.
 
"I
thought
you were my best friend in the whole world and that you would always support me.
 
But now I see how wrong I was.
 
I can't believe you're ruining this for me."

           
Charisse turned and ran off.

           
I jumped up from the bench and took a few steps after her, but I soon stopped, realizing that going after her would do no good.
 
Charisse was not in the mood to listen.

           
I sat back down on the bench and buried my head in my hands.

Chapter 5.

I walked home slowly, too worn out from my argument with Charisse to think about it.
 
Too much was going on lately, and the strain was starting to wear me down.
 
My mind kept wandering back to the guy who had somehow been in my mirror and then appeared in real life.

           
Thinking about him made me resolve to talk to GM.
 
I had to get some answers from her about my mother's visions.
 
I had to know what was going on with me.

           
I walked up to my house and stood staring at it.
 
I suddenly felt very nervous.
 
Talking to GM was not going to be easy.

           
I went into the house.
 
"GM?"
 
I hoped my voice didn't quaver.

           
"In the kitchen, Solnyshko."

           
I found GM standing at the kitchen table.
 
She was spreading peanut butter on cut-up stalks of celery.
 
"I'm making a little snack.
 
Would you like some?"

           
The scene before me was so normal and homey that I felt tears stinging my eyes.
 
Suddenly, I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be – no illegal marriages, no strange visitors with dire warnings, no unnerving hallucinations.

           
When I didn't answer, GM looked up and took in the expression on my face.
 
She froze with her knife poised over the celery.
 
"What's wrong, Solnyshko?"

           
I wanted to blurt out everything, but I knew that wouldn't be fair to GM.
 
I knew how sensitive she was about the past.
 
I decided to approach the topic of visions in a roundabout way.
 
If I was lucky, maybe I could convince her to talk.

           
With my heart pounding, I drew in breath to speak.
 
"GM, do you remember the visitors from Sunday night?"

           
GM stiffened.
 
"Yes."

           
"Are they still here?
 
I mean are they still in town?"

           
"No," GM's tone was sharp.

           
I felt frustration welling up within me, as well as panic.
 
This wasn't going well.

           
"GM, how do you know they aren't here anymore?"

           
GM set her knife down with a clatter.
 
"I know they are gone because I warned them that if I ever saw them again that I would call the police.
 
I would have them arrested for trespassing and making threats.
 
They know better than to stay around here."

           
GM's tone of voice told me clearly that the subject was closed.
 
I wasn't going to be able to get at the topic of visions even from another route.
 
My panic suddenly bubbled over.
 
"GM, I don't know what's happening to me!
 
You have to talk to me.
 
You have to help me."

           
Tears stung my eyes, and I felt them spill down my cheeks.

           
"Of course I will help you Solnyshko!" GM cried.
 
"You only have to tell me what is wrong."

           
"GM, I've been seeing things.
 
You have to tell me what you know."

           
"Yes, yes, Solnyshko.
 
Please don't cry."

           
I felt her arm go around my shoulder.

           
"Come and sit down, Solnyshko."

           
She steered me into the living room and onto the couch.

           
"GM, you have to help me figure this out.
 
For real this time."

           
"Yes, yes, Solnyshko.
 
I will help you with anything.
 
Just do not cry."

           
I made an effort to check the flow of tears.

           
"Now tell your grandmother what is wrong."

           
I quickly ran through all of the times I had seen the strange guy's face in glass.
 
I stopped short of telling her that I had actually seen the guy in person.
 
I didn't want her to worry any more than she was already going to.

           
GM patted my hand.
 
"I believe you," she said quietly.
 
"I have heard stories like these before.
 
From your mother."