The Pentrals (8 page)

I wish I could remember the Person I used to be, figure out why I found this fate. But now that I am here, in this body, I’ll probably never get the chance. Taking over my Person’s life will certainly not put me on a path to redeeming myself. I didn’t purposely switch places with Violet, but interrupting her life is in direct opposition of my duties. It’s selfish, unacceptable. Maybe I’m not worth saving after all.

Violet spreads herself out on the floor all around me, like she’s trying to give me a hug. “Antares, I’m so sorry. We’ll figure this out. I’ll learn how to Shadow and you’ll set things right somehow. I mean we’ve made a pretty good team these past 17 years!”

I laugh, happy to hear enthusiasm from the darkness around me. Violet has no reason to be encouraging but here she is, trying to pick me up. She seems to be handling all this remarkably well. I have to wonder how I would act if the tables were turned. Would my past human self be so willing to accept this other reality, so far flung from my own?

“Antares?” she adds. “You’ve been following me my entire life, right?”

“Yes, since day one.”

“So, what do you think?” Violet asks earnestly.

“About what?”

“About me?” She is still, waiting for an honest response from the one being who has witnessed every high and low of her existence. For a moment, I am unsure of what to say. Wasn’t it my anger toward her that got us in this mess in the first place? My judgment of her thoughtless actions? Surely she must sense my disapproval.

But of course that is not how I truly feel about Violet. I have watched her grow from a carefree girl in pigtails to a young woman dealing with difficulties. Deep down, I know she is still capable of goodness.

“Violet, I’ve lived my life in awe of you. The art you create, the friendships you maintain—you see the world and capture its beauty.” I pause, still unsure if my thoughts are coming through correctly in speech. “You’re my Person. You always will be.”

Violet is still, and I imagine her back in her body with that faraway look in her eyes.
Stay with me
, I think.
Don’t give up.

Somehow, she hears me. “Thank you,” she answers, then adds, “you know, I would not believe all this if I wasn’t on the floor staring up at myself.”

I laugh, and she does too. A real moment of connection, and dare I say it, friendship. I have always considered Violet a friend, but our relationship has been entirely one-sided, with me imagining some deep understanding between us. Hearing her laugh from our conversation makes me feel closer to her than I ever have.

I decide not to bring up the Reflection—too much has happened today. Maybe Pentrals aren’t supposed to look at each other, creating a weird double negative image. Violet’s mom didn’t see anything unusual, so perhaps only I saw the monster. Besides, I just got her to calm down and do not want to rile things up again.

As we sit on the floor, I feel an uncomfortable stirring in my stomach. Something inside demands my attention, and I try to soothe the problem by rubbing my hand over my abdomen. It doesn’t help. The twisting sensation continues, making an audible grumble. I don’t understand what this internal rumbling could mean.

“Violet, I don’t feel right. Something is wrong with my stomach.”

“Oh,” she answers with a small laugh. “You’re probably hungry. You can grab something from the refrigerator, if there’s anything there.”

I pull myself up and make my way into the kitchen. Just before I open the refrigerator, the monster reappears, glaring at me in the reflective door. It is just the same as it was upstairs, all protruding lumps and splotches. The gruesome face almost makes me lose my appetite, but the gurgling in my stomach forces me to find food. I pull back the door to escape the Reflection but am not greeted by much on the other side. It appears no one in this house has gone grocery shopping in weeks.

Violet rarely cooks, so food preparation motions are not in my muscle memory. I have to choose something that’s ready to eat. There aren’t a lot of choices before me. I pull out a leftovers box I remember Violet storing only a few days ago. Upon opening it, a pungent scent fills the air. It makes my stomach twist again, but this time in a different direction. My nose crinkles up and my eyes pinch shut, trying to block out the offensive odor. Between this powerful smell and the Reflection’s frightening face, something is really trying to keep me from feeding myself. But I have to eat something. Inside is a pile of half-eaten noodles next to several limp vegetables. I scrounge around the kitchen for a fork and prepare to take my first bite of food.

It isn’t good. As soon as the noodles cross my lips, I have an intense desire to spit them back out. Their slimy texture sticks to my tongue and the combination of flavors seem in direct opposition to each other. I have to get rid of this food and fast. But how? For a moment I’m unsure what to do. I think of the way Violet moves her mouth while eating, and try moving mine around in a similar pattern. I open and shut my jaw, mashing the noodles into an even more disgusting paste. When I open my mouth too wide, a few pieces fall out, spilling onto the lacquered countertop. I try to keep my lips together while I chew, but now my mouth is filled with the unpleasant goo and I just want it to go away. I move my tongue around and eventually the noodle blob finds its way to the back of my throat and I swallow it down. I almost choke as it makes its descent, but it manages to land where it belongs. Wow. I had no idea eating was such an involved physical process. Watching the action from the outside does not make it seem so complex; the food goes in and then disappears. It appears I know nothing about a Person’s inner mechanics.

With each bite, I get better at the motions, though the food itself continues to disappoint. The vegetables are equally foul, lacking any indication they were once fresh and tasty. Or at least, I hope they were once fresh and tasty. If Persons need to eat every few hours to keep going, I would hope they would figure out how to create better tasting fuel. I’ve watched Violet eat numerous dishes over the years so maybe I will be able to find something more appetizing in the future. But as there is nothing else edible in this house tonight, I have no choice but to choke down my current meal. I don’t mention my discomfort to Violet. It’s not like the poor food choices in her home would be news. She probably can see it in my face anyway. It’s no wonder she usually goes out to eat.

I fill a glass with water, hoping some liquid with help cleanse my offended palette. I drink it just as gracefully as I ate, which is to say, not at all. I tilt the glass back too far, overfilling my mouth. The water spills back out over my lips. I shake my head and make a frustrated sound. It’s a good thing I’m experiencing this embarrassing lack of coordination in private; if other Persons saw Violet eating a meal like this, they would think she was having a seizure or something. I wipe my chin with my sleeve and try again, this time letting the water ease out of the glass slowly. When my mouth is filled with a comfortable amount of water, I swallow it down easier. When it’s not cascading out of my mouth, I find the water does in fact make me feel better. More refreshed. I take a few more gulps to erase the remaining food particles from my teeth. Tomorrow I will seek out better nourishment.

The rumbling in my stomach has ceased, and I feel ready to focus again.

“Are you ready for your first session in Shadowing?” I ask Violet.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We move to the living room and I push a clear acrylic coffee table out of the way so we have some open space. The floor is a polished white tile, just like in every room of the house, and provides little obstacle for a new Shadow to deal with. Eventually she’ll need to learn how to bend her shape around three dimensional objects, but for now, she only needs to focus on matching her shape to mine in the easiest possible setting.

“Okay,” I begin, thinking exactly how to start such a daunting process. “Why don’t you come over here Violet, and try to outline my body while I’m standing straight and still.” She glides over the tile, pausing at the tips of my toes before beginning to stretch herself outward. She keeps going, exaggerating my body’s already slender frame to something resembling a fallen broomstick. The proportions are all wrong, her edges too severe and unnatural. The human body, regardless of size and shape, is a beautiful combination of curves and contours, adding up to a silhouette that is nothing less than a work of art. For her first Shadowing attempt, it’s not bad, but Violet will need to learn how to capture those distinct lines.

Not that my first Shadowing endeavor was much better. I met Violet the day she was born, my essence sent directly to her hospital room by the Class Fours. Even though the circumstances of my Pentral training were erased from memory, I was left with a strong sense of purpose, a determination to do my job and do it well. I was confident I would master my abilities in no time. But I was wrong. I sat on the floor, looking up at this tiny baby squirming in her mother’s arms, and instantly felt completely helpless. She was so small and unpredictable, her pudgy limbs flailing about without warning or reason. The longer I watched, the more it became clear I had a lot to learn. My movements were always a second too late, my reaction time too slow. Luckily, babies are so inherently adorable, no one was paying attention to the dark disaster on the floor.

So I know this process will take time. I move my body slowly, giving Violet time to catch up and match the new outlines. I try to give her verbal instructions when possible, advising on how to make her extremities more organic and less stiff. It’s good exercise, for both of us. I practice sitting, standing, jumping, spinning: trying to make my motions natural, and not like I just woke up in a human body hours ago. With every run-through, we each get more comfortable in our new arrangements.

We stay up all night. I am not accustomed to sleeping, and Violet is revved up to try Shadow drills. It’s a lot to ask, perfecting a lifetime of Shadow observation skills in one day, but Violet is an artist, attuned to detecting variance in form. Like me, I think she is finding pleasure in stretching herself creatively, even if it is an unusual medium.

My heart swells as I watch my Person, now a Shadow, work so determinately to match my outline.

Finding light within the dark, just as I always have.

* * 12 * *

I
t is not until the sun sets that I realize I should have gone to school. Violet and I were so engrossed in our Pentral crash course we completely forgot. Oh well. We are sitting on the back porch, the sun low in the sky, as Violet pulls herself long and thin across the backyard. I am alternating random kicks and head bobs to keep her on her metaphorical toes when I hear Mrs. Rayne call from inside.

“Violet, you have a visitor.”

“Okay.” Even though last night was overwhelming, a part of me really enjoyed connecting with Violet, telling her about my life. Informing her about the classes of Pentrals was definitely for her own protection, but it was also nice to share more than just a fleeting sentiment with someone. Getting to talk to her, exchange back and forth, helps me see that maybe we really could be friends. In fact I’m not really interested in conversing with anyone else right now. I could stay in this yard with her forever.

Thomas walks through the sliding glass door. “Hey,” he says, hanging back on the porch. “You weren’t in school today.”

“Oh, well, figured I’d milk this bad leg for all it’s worth,” I lie.

“Ah, I see. Well, do you think it’s strong enough to walk to the lake?” he asks.

My skin prickles. Large bodies of water make me nervous. But the rippling shoreline would be a perfect place for Violet to continue her practice. I agree and casually lace my arm through his, watching as she does the same with Thomas’ Shadow.
Nicely done
, I think. We may be able to keep her safe yet.

The route to the lake passes through town, which means a majority of our stroll is littered with mirrors. With so many surfaces covered in glass, the sun’s rays bounce back and forth like a pinball game, illuminating every corner. From the ground, I always appreciated this effect, as the light patterns make for challenging Shadowing, but today, walking hand in hand with Thomas, the constant presence of mirrors is harrowing. As we pass by convenience stores, trash cans, traffic signs—everything—I feel like I’m being stalked. Not by Violet, of course, who is doing her best to dutifully follow below, but by the monster—my Reflection. Strange, mangled features peer back at me from every façade, and not even the comforting squeeze of Thomas’ hand can shake the queasy feeling stirring inside.

I look at Thomas’ Reflection to see if we are a pair of beasts or if I am alone in my horror, but in the glass he appears as he does at my side: strong, attractive, and confident. He is the same Person I’ve known from my Shadowy viewpoint. Why then is my Reflection so drastically different? Where is Violet’s natural face? Could her fall have caused this much alteration? I know this figure in the mirror cannot possibly be the correct representation of my Person, and yet it follows me all the way to the lake.

When our feet hit the sand and the mirrors give way to the elements, I realize Thomas has been telling me a story. I’ve been so engrossed in my own disfigurement I’ve failed to notice anything else. I try to wipe my face clean of whatever anxiety the monster riled up and set my focus back on him.

“So that’s it. Coach thinks I have what it takes to play professionally,” he says.

“Thomas, that’s great,” I exclaim. I do not know a lot about sports since Violet primarily hangs in the art room, but know that he is the star of his soccer team. “Aren’t you nervous though?”

“Sure, it’s a lot of pressure, but this is what I’ve been working toward. Plus, I mean, you’ll always be there to cheer me on, right?” he asks, squeezing my hand.

I squeeze back, feeling the warmth of his palm. “Of course.” I’ll be there one way or another, whether I am in this body or outlined on the bleachers. This boy who has been so considerate deserves support. I look down at Violet to make sure she’s registered this exchange. She is struggling to keep my outline correct against the uneven sand, but she is not giving up. Her effort makes me smile.