The Suburban Strange (28 page)

“Still, you should do it yourself, on the day before your birthday,” Celia told her. “Cast a spell to make everyone forget you, and then stay home.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I don’t consider myself to be in the same category as the rest of you.”

“You’re not a fifteen-year-old virgin about to turn sixteen?”

“Yes, but I’m not a
citizen
.”

“Does that mean you’ve finally accepted I am just a citizen and not one of the Kind?”

“No . . .” Mariette’s face betrayed her inner conflict. “You could be Kind but still defenseless against the Unkind because you haven’t developed any powers yet. In which case, I still did the right thing.

“Enough about that! I want to go for ice cream sundaes for my birthday.”

Celia laughed. “Sure! Why don’t you come over to my house first? You can even come inside this time!” Celia wanted to tame Mariette’s hair and maybe put a little makeup on her. And if Celia could talk her into letting go of a few of her most unfortunate sweaters, she would consider it a complete victory.

“That’ll be great! See you later.” Mariette headed off to her homeroom.

CELIA MADE HER WAY
to the home ec room for a dress fitting. Marco's classmates seemed to have been expecting her, and they smiled shyly. Celia was amazed to find that Marco's dress for her looked nearly complete.

“Oh no,” he said dismissively. “The lining isn’t done, and none of the hem.”

“Still, it looks fantastic! You’re the only person who could make a thimble look elegant,” she said as he waved his hand at her, the metal flashing on his index finger.

“It’s turning out really well.” He smiled.

She went to put it on. “It’s going to be a little long,” he said to her through the changing-cubicle door. “Stand on your toes like you’re wearing heels.”

When she came out and saw herself in the mirror, Celia was taken aback. It was as if the secret world of Diaboliques that she shared with Marco and the Rosary had collided head-on with the world of Suburban. Within a moment thirty girls had gathered around to admire the narrow black crushed velvet gown, which widened into a small fishtail in the back. Marco went about the fitting without giving them a second look, and Celia began to feel hot with all the eyes on her. It was one thing to play the part of a foreign dignitary visiting this room, but it was another thing entirely to be scrutinized like this. This was closer to the first time she had walked into her homeroom in September. She was trapped, and with Marco fussing around her ankles she certainly couldn’t run anywhere now. The impulse to fill in the unspoken disparaging comments still lurked deep in her.

“It looks amazing on her,” one of the girls said.

“She’s so pretty,” another said.

Ms. Vong herded the others back to their machines, and Marco stood up from adjusting the hem. “I told you you’re gorgeous,” he said, his eyes glowing, “the first day I met you.” He was proud of the effect they had achieved.

“I didn’t believe you.” Celia smiled.

One of the girls had lingered near them, and when Celia noticed her the girl took a few steps closer. Celia dropped down from her toes, and still she was six inches taller than the girl, who said, “I’m sorry—I just wanted to ask you . . .” Celia nodded, using a finger to flip her long, smooth hair behind her shoulder. “My sixteenth birthday is next week, and I’m scared. Do you know what I should do?” Her eyes betrayed the terror the rest of her face tried to control.

Marco looked curiously at Celia, and she thought hard. “I think you should come to school,” she told the girl finally. “And when you get here, make sure the first thing you do is to go to your locker.”

“Go to my locker? You stayed home, didn’t you?”

“I did, but . . . I think you’ll be safer here,” Celia said. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to tell you. I just think you’ll be safer at school.” She could tell the girl wasn’t happy with the advice. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know any more than everyone else.”

The girl gave her a nod and a shrug that said,
Okay, I’m not convinced, but it was worth a shot,
and she returned to her worktable.

“Why did she think I would know something?”

“Well, you beat the curse. Didn’t you? Or did you . . .”

“No, I didn’t. I don’t know what happened. Am I supposed to feel guilty for not having something bad happen to me?”

“No, but I can see why it would be confusing for her. Let me finish your hem.”

20. WITH SYMPATHY

T
HE MORNING OF THE
day before Mariette’s birthday, Celia stood by her while she crammed things into her locker.

“Are you sure you should be here?”

“I’m sure,” Mariette said. “I might not be very good at protecting other people, but I definitely know how to fortify myself.” She pulled a chain around her neck out from under her shirt and showed Celia an amulet that hung from it. “It would take a lot more than anything I’ve ever seen here to hurt me today. And besides, the Unkind needs to get someone innocent, and I don’t qualify.”

“Because you’re Kind?”

“Yes,” Mariette said defiantly. “And because I’m the ‘different girl’ in that admonition.”

“I’m still scared,” Celia said.

“That’s very sweet of you. But I’ll be fine. And then we can go for sundaes to start my birthday festivities!”

“I’ll see you in chem,” Celia sighed.

All morning she heard Mariette’s name on the lips of people who normally wouldn’t have given her a second thought. Celia was infuriated by the mean things some of them had to say. How Mariette’s virginity could be taken for granted. How no one had bothered to proposition her. How stupid she was for tempting fate by coming to school, and all the grisly things people speculated would happen to her when the curse claimed her.

Celia finally confronted a group of them. “When has she ever done anything to you? So she’s not the most popular person in school. Are you really wishing harm on her? What kind of sick people are you?”

“Why don’t you go put some more of that black shit around your eyes?” a boy taunted her.

Celia turned to him. “Is that the best you can come up with?” For once, she was happy to be four inches taller than a boy.

“Whatever—you’ll just go cry to your senior friends,” he sneered.

“No, I won’t.” Celia shoved him. It wouldn’t have been serious, but the boy tripped on the cuff of his baggy pants and went down, just as Mr. Sumeletso turned the corner and came upon them.

“Celia! What are you doing?” He seemed more shocked than angry. “You’d better come with me.” He helped the boy up and made sure he was okay, then escorted Celia to the assistant principal’s office.

The assistant principal wasn’t there, so while they waited in the outer office, Mr. Sumeletso attempted to address the situation himself. “What happened back there? I know you wouldn’t do something like that without provocation.”

“They were talking about Mariette. Tomorrow’s her birthday, so that whole stupid curse thing is supposed to happen to her today. They were saying all these mean things about how they hope she gets hurt.”

“It’s very nice of you to stick up for Mariette. You’re a good friend,” he said. “Mariette’s a strong girl. I’ve seen her deflect some pretty mean things other students have said to her. I wish teenagers were kinder to each other, and especially to Mariette, considering how nice she is to everyone. Hopefully there will come a time later in life when those students will realize being true to yourself is one of the most important things you can do.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what—I don’t think there’s any need to concern the assistant principal with this. But you are very lucky you didn’t hurt that guy. We won’t say ‘Off with her head’ this time.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sorry.” They went back out into the hall.

“I hope Mariette survives the
curse
.” Mr. Sumeletso made quotes in the air with his fingers when he said “curse.” “She volunteered to help me inventory all the swim team equipment during last period today. I’ve been putting it off since last semester, and I really could use the help.”

“I’m sure she’ll be there,” Celia replied. As she walked back to class, she decided she really liked Mr. Sumeletso. He had earned her respect as one of her best teachers, demanding but fair. Most of the student body disagreed, and the rest of his classes absolutely dreaded him, but Celia was inclined to blame the students, not the teacher.

CELIA SAT IN HER LAST
class, idly sketching in the margins of her notebook. She almost had banished the nervous feeling that had been fluttering in her all day. Soon school would be over, and as Mariette had predicted with the utmost confidence, nothing had happened to her. The number of potential targets was shrinking fast now, and Celia braced herself for even grislier injuries during the last month of school as the Unkind became more desperate. She wondered if at some point whoever it was would give up on the supernatural route and just attack a girl in person. It was riskier, but for the Unkind it might be a last resort. If the culprit decided to attack a girl in person, it was just a matter of luring a victim to an isolated place, and there was no shortage of those at Suburban.

Celia felt a new fear rise in her. The pool was an isolated place—what if Mr. Sumeletso was Unkind? No, she thought, there was no way that mild man could do anything of the sort. She remembered the kind way he had spoken about Mariette that morning. But suddenly she wasn’t so sure. She thought back to the day he had made his uncomfortable speech exhorting girls not to lose their virginity based on a superstition. No other teacher had done that. Had Mr. Sumeletso’s real reason for urging girls not to have sex been his desire to keep his list of potential victims as long as possible?

Celia couldn’t sit there any longer. Grabbing her things, she went up to the teacher and stammered that she was going to be sick; then she rushed out of the room before the confused man could respond. All the way through the halls, down the stairs, across the lobby, past the gym, and toward the pool, she told herself,
I’m silly. It can’t be Mr. S. I’m just being crazy.
She practically ran down the last hallway to the pool.

When Celia pushed open the door to the swimming complex, the humid, chlorinated air hit her like a warm blanket. She hurried out from the shadow of the stadium seats to the edge of the pool.

No one was there. A jumble of board floats were scattered at the far side of the pool deck. More sailed lightly in a small fleet on the undulating water. Overhead the gymnasium lights flickered and turned shades of purple and green, as if they were still warming up.

“Mariette?” she called. No one answered.

Then the pool erupted. Mr. Sumeletso broke the surface, struggling with something, and it was a moment before Celia saw the body in the crook of his arm, red hair slicked across her blue-gray forehead and cheeks. Mariette’s mouth gaped open, but her eyes were closed. The teacher reached the side of the pool and hauled himself out, dragging Mariette after him.

Celia screamed and dropped her books. Across the pool Mr. Sumeletso’s head jerked up. “Celia! She fell in! Get help!” He turned back to Mariette, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. He bent over Mariette and pressed his lips to hers. Their darkened clothes clung to their bodies, and the water puddled around them. He was pinching her nose, and his cheeks puffed in and out as he tried to force his breath into her lungs, but all Celia saw was a kiss.

Celia ran out of the pool and back down the hall, and she started yelling before she had reached the lobby. Several people rushed out of the main office in alarm, and she begged them to call an ambulance, gasping that Mariette had fallen into the pool and she couldn’t swim. Then she ran back to the pool, followed by the adults.

Nothing had changed. Mr. Sumeletso looked defeated, and it was hard to believe anything could help Mariette now. Celia collapsed in a heap next to her, wiping strands of wet hair off Mariette’s face, shaking and crying. Soon enough the EMTs arrived and continued the CPR Mr. Sumeletso had attempted. Eventually they lifted her body onto a stretcher. Celia pushed forward before they took her away and carefully unclasped the amulet from Mariette’s neck. And then Mariette was gone.

SCHOOL WAS CANCELED THE NEXT
day. Celia sat on her bed and looked out the window onto the back lawn where Mariette had knelt a few weeks before. She thought there should be some fairy ring around the place where Mariette had been, perhaps an empty halo of mushrooms, sprung up as silent witnesses to her visit. Celia already had known what it was like to lose someone precious to her, to lose someone at too young an age. She had felt this pit open up inside her before, and she knew better than to try to cover it over. There was nothing to be done.

The same thoughts lurked in that pit as the ones that had risen up to torment her when her father died—dark thoughts that made her shrink inside her own skin. Most days Celia could forget how in one hundred years almost no evidence of her life would remain. In a thousand years not even the records of her life would remain. It had taken her months to wrest herself away from the thoughts in this pit. Now they rushed back to her. If there was any privilege to youth, it was the ability to believe she would live forever, but already Celia knew better. Her father’s death had cured her of that beautiful, naïve idea. Now she was doubly cured.

Celia focused on what she believed for sure: The Unkind admonition belonged to Mr. Sumeletso. He had hidden in plain sight all year. He was the source of the curse, and he had killed Mariette. Celia’s anguish over Mariette was sharp and persistent, but it was crowded by this sudden, horrifying clarity about Mr. Sumeletso. That man had lured Mariette down to the pool under the pretense of doing inventory. He had waited for his opportunity and then pushed her into the pool. He’d jumped in—he probably hadn’t even known she couldn’t swim—and held her under, fighting her, overwhelming her. When he was sure she was dead, he had pulled her out. And Celia had watched him kiss her, collecting her last breath by pretending to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in accordance with his admonition. It was the perfect crime. If Celia accused him, no one would believe her—what could she say that wouldn’t make her sound crazy? Now all Mr. Sumeletso had to do was to wait for the eclipse of the moon in a few short weeks and whatever Unkind powers he had earned would come to him. Celia shuddered, wondering what he would be capable of doing then. She wondered what powers he already possessed.