“Oh, and brace yourself,” Mari whispered to me. “Dun’s gonna grill you about Chile, too. He’s serious about going. His grandma said if he can pay for it, he can go. I’m donating airline miles to the cause.”
“You want him to go that badly?”
“Obviously.” Mari gave me a sideways glance. “I want you to come that badly, too. But money’s not your problem.”
It was so wrong that Dun might get to meet my own grandmother before I did, but there was no point in griping, yet again, about my dad’s militant overprotectiveness. I’d never get to go to Chile or Ireland, no matter how many times I asked. My chains didn’t reach that far.
Dun kissed my cheek, then Mari’s. “How are my girls?”
I swear I inhaled a palpable hit of happy when Dun touched me. I would also swear he was glowing a bright, sunny yellow. My mouth dropped open in astonishment that the color matched the bright mood. “I was worried about you. Mari says you’re seeing double or something. Am I doubly handsome this morning?” He grinned.
I glanced around at the throng of students passing in all directions, swirls of colors trailing after them like their own personal clouds. The colors had substance, too, like fabric. There were endless variations, prismatic and ever-changing. I felt light-headed.
Dun eyed me with concern. “You okay?”
“I-I don’t know. Don’t make fun of me, but I’m seeing colors around everyone. It’s overwhelming, like walking through a kaleidoscope.” I looked down at my shoes. “Strange things are happening… It’s scary,” I admitted in a microscopic voice. “I think something is seriously wrong with me, and my dad is totally blowing it off.”
And something about my mother. What happened to my mother?
“Well,” Mari said, her brown eyes taking a thoughtful skyward slant that meant she was thinking, which could be dangerous. “Let’s whomp on this with some research.”
I eyed her skeptically. “No offense, but if the doctors don’t have a clue, how are we supposed to come up with the answer?”
“Aren’t there a ton of sites, like, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me dot com?” Dun asked.
Mari smacked him in the back of the head.
“My dad made me swear I wouldn’t look it up online. He says misinformation will only make me paranoid, that I should deal only in facts.”
“Your dad never said I couldn’t look it up,” Mari pointed out. “Hey! We should e-mail Grandma. Mami Tulke’s the authority on all things bizarre.”
“Great,” I said, with absolutely zero confidence that my little Chilean grandmother was going to be able to diagnose this strange ailment. “She’ll probably advise me to sleep with a lizard skin under my pillow or something.”
Mari knocked Dun’s shoulder and motioned to me with her head. “Speaking of Mami Tulke, guilt trip. Now.”
“Oh, yes.” Dun held up one finger and cleared his throat. “Rule number one of the Articles of Friendship states we do all things of a fun and adventurous nature together. Rule number two states that if you cannot adhere to rule number one, you’d better have a damn good reason.”
“I love how many rules we have, yet there never seem to be more than two,” I said.
“Mission statement. We are a non-club club with rules that are not rules,” Mari said as if that cleared everything up.
“I think you two are forgetting that I don’t have any decision-making clout here. My dad will never let me go. It’ll kill me to watch you guys fly off into the sunset without me.”
Mari elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Yo, Finn Doyle is staring at you, hard.”
“No, he’s not,” I said, forcing myself to keep looking straight ahead. “Why would he be?”
Dun leaned in to Mari. “I think something is wrong with her eyes,” he murmured. “Cora, you don’t see what everyone else sees.”
I dared a glance in Finn’s direction, and our eyes met and held. The air around him pulsed with a subtle golden-pink glow that radiated from him in smooth waves. I blinked and tore my eyes from Finn’s. Dun spoke the truth, all right. I was definitely seeing things differently than everyone else.
Four
All morning long I had floundered in my classes, distracted by the subtle haze surrounding my classmates and teachers and the gradations of the colors around them. At the end of each class, I couldn’t remember what had been reviewed for finals.
It was like I could see people’s needs and desires, their frantic plays for attention, their sadness, their longing to make other people feel what they were feeling. Though maybe I attached meaning to the colors to try to make order out of the chaos. It was confusing, and rather than forging a connection to people, it made me feel more different and alone than ever. Especially because the only color I ever saw radiating from myself was bright silver. It never varied.
Not once did I see another person with a silver shadow like mine.
Desperate to avoid the colorful mob of kids, I slipped into the Agriculture Center’s greenhouse at lunchtime. It was my favorite place on campus. Warm, humid air settled on my skin as soon as I walked in. I could practically sense my curls springing up and my skin drinking in the moisture. I exhaled happily, letting peace wash over me.
Janelle had packed a typical pyramid-worthy lunch. Every food group was represented, except for the oft-neglected and woefully misunderstood top—the sugar group. When life got a bit heavy, sweets were my drug of choice. Janelle had left me without a fix.
“I’m so glad you’re back, dear.” Mrs. Boroff, the agriculture teacher, flashed me a warm smile. Her white hair was piled atop her head in feral ringlets like an aged Greek goddess. Her gardening apron stretched across her plump little body. I was always amazed at the amount of stuff she kept in the pockets of her apron. Mrs. Boroff went back to misting her beloved orchids. “I’ll go out on a limb”—she chuckled at her own pun—“and say they missed you, too.” Her fleshy arms gestured to the plants. “You’ve got the greenest thumb I’ve ever seen.”
“Next to you, of course.”
Mrs. Boroff sent a light spray of mist toward my nose. “Of course.”
I watched, mesmerized, as the droplets floated down. Through them shone the clearest light I’d seen around someone so far. Mrs. Boroff’s physical edges were blurred by soft green light tinted with gold. I couldn’t see where her body ended and the light began, as though the light was a part of her.
I ran my fingers over my eyelids. It had been like this all morning, colors popping up and flowing around people, then disappearing. “If it’s okay with you, I thought I’d have lunch in here today.”
Mrs. Boroff peered above her bifocals. “You know it’s fine with me. Are you hiding from anyone in particular?”
“Not hiding. I need quiet.” Colors could be loud.
Looking through the glass windows, I noticed the VIPs frolicking in their exclusive little circle, backs to everyone. They always banded together in a wagon ring, emulating the pioneer strategy: keep the savages out.