Posting for feedback. (Frame of reference for people who read the previous draft: this used to be Chapter 8.) Thanks for reading!
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m in love with Dylan or anything. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t know what that feels like, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t it. What I do think this is maybe, is that Dylan is the only one around right now who knows who I really am. He’s the only one I’m allowed to be myself with, and I guess I felt like I had some sort of claim on him. Like he was, in some small way, kind of my territory or something.
Seeing him with this girl now, though—seeing the way he looks at her as they pull away from their kiss, the way his hands linger on her body as if they’ve always just belonged there—I’d be pretty dumb not to realize that the only person’s territory he’s probably ever been is hers.
The sound of Eilian’s voice makes me spin around. I can see her across the room, where she’s standing outside the dining room door as if she’s just stepped through it. All of her usual poise is totally missing. Her eyes are fixed so dumbfounded and happy on the girl standing by Dylan’s side that, with her curls falling around her face like they do, Eilian looks about as bright as the sun itself.
She lets out this squeal so unlike anything I’d expect to come out of her face that I almost doubt it was really her. Then she sets off across the great hall like her feet are on fire or something, doing more of a speeding skip than a run. She ploughs into the new girl’s arms and they exchange ramu, laughing and talking at the same time as each other.
Eilian’s as giddy as a school girl, and for some reason that also kind of hurts.
Aunt Nia appears at the dining room door then, Uncle Wyn right behind her, and their pleasure at seeing this Teresa person is only slightly more contained than Eilian’s. They hurry across the room to offer their own hugs, their own ramu. Aunt Nia, in that way that she does, is talking about a mile a minute.
“I didn’t know if you’d ever be back,” she repeats just about every other sentence, giving Dylan these little side hugs as if a huge part of her excitement is really on his behalf.
“I just got in this afternoon,” Teresa says, this hint of an accent in her voice. “I came here right away.”
I’m standing barely ten feet away from them, but no one seems to notice me. To be fair, I probably blend in a little with the huge pillar that I’m standing beside, but also, I think everybody just doesn’t have the attention to spare at the moment. I’m not real sure what to do with myself. Seems kind of awkward to step forward and butt in on everything now, but it’d be pretty weird to just sit here and watch them all too.
I’m thinking maybe I could sneak into the dining room and wait for everyone there, but then Uncle Wyn mentions that dinner’s on the table, and he asks Teresa if she’d like to stay.
She does this thing where she touches him all affectionate on his arm and smiles at him with her beautiful, knock-out eyes, and says, “I’ve been dying for some of your home cooking,” as if she really has just been wasting away somewhere without it.
Then they’re all turning back toward the dining room, and I’ve lost my opportunity to sneak in before them. I hug in a little closer to my marble pillar and do my best not be seen, but Aunt Nia catches sight of me anyway. She blurts out my name like she’s only now remembered my existence, and I sort of freeze, trying real hard not to look like someone who’s been standing here lurking this whole time.
As everyone else turns around to look at me too, Aunt Nia’s already bustling across the floor with her arms outstretched so that I feel like I’ve got to move to meet her halfway. She takes me by the shoulders and spins me around in front of her, holding me out toward Teresa like I’m some sort of life-sized doll.
“This is the newest addition to our little family,” Aunt Nia proclaims over my shoulder, while I pretend to myself that I’m not entirely uncomfortable with this situation. “Sophie’s the daughter of one of Gweneth’s dearest friends, and she’s staying with us while she attends Mawihl Academy.”
Teresa graces me with a real pretty little smile, but it’s all mechanical and polite as if she’s trying to figure out what sort of person I am before she decides how to treat me. Faced full-on with that magazine-worthy face of hers, it’s hard not to kind of hope she’s at least a little impressed by my alpha-blue hair.
“I’m also a Mawihl student,” she says finally, and even though the way she says it is real friendly, I still end up feeling like she’s doing me a huge favor just by acknowledging me at all. “I’m starting my last year there this term. It’s so nice to meet you.”
She steps forward to do pono, but somehow the greeting doesn’t feel so much like an exchange. Her energy’s all focused on Dylan, and as soon as politeness would allow for it, she’s already turning away from me and slipping her hand back into his.
All through dinner it’s kind of like that. She laughs with Eilian and Aunt Nia, flirts all charming with Uncle Wyn, asks me exactly the sort of questions you’re supposed to ask a new acquaintance. But I’d be surprised if she’s really paying attention to anyone but Dylan. Like, I’m willing to bet she’s real keenly aware of just about every breath he takes.
And he’s aware of her. He’s all quiet and subdued, watching her like she’s some unaccountable blessing that’s just come blowing back into his life and might go blowing back out of it again at any second.
I understand his feelings. I mean, everything about her pretty much demands that she’d be adored. And it’s not just her sort of ambiguously ethnic prettiness either. There’s an energy to her that’s hypnotizing. A vibrancy that, the more I watch her, makes me think I’d be hard pressed not to fall in love with her myself.
After dinner we go upstairs to the family den to eat cookies and sit all cozy together by the glowing fire. With our chairs pulled in close and warm blankets tucked around our legs, Aunt Nia starts probing Teresa about what she’s been doing for however many months it is that she’s been gone.
Her reason for leaving in the first place, apparently, had something to do with Dylan’s dad, Cadfan. Or really, the fact that after Cadfan was convicted of treason, Teresa’s dad didn’t want that same shame to leak over onto his own family. So he carted her off to her mother’s parents’ house in some remote village in Russia or something, and he wouldn’t let her come back until Mawihl Academy threatened to rescind her position at the school. Almost wouldn’t let her come back even then, which I guess is why her being here is such a surprise to everyone.
“When he finally agreed to let me come, I didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind,” she explains, her eyes flicking over toward Dylan as if she just can’t help herself. “So I left for Daxa without letting anyone here know I was on my way, as soon as I could get my things together. I thought it would be a fun surprise.”
It’s practically a modern-day Romeo and Juliet scenario, with her and Dylan as the main characters.
I think back to that moment in the woods when that happy family passed by and Dylan looked like someone had punched him right in the gut. I wonder if Teresa was any part of what he was thinking about then, and, if she’s something that could eat him up so much inside, it kind of gets to me that in all the time we’ve spent together he’s never mentioned her even once.
I’m trying not to be mopey about all of this, about the way Teresa’s being here has put some sort of light in everyone’s eye. Probably her arrival hasn’t actually changed anything. Probably it’s just highlighting a truth that was already there, that no matter how much they all may like me, that doesn’t mean I belong yet. Simply being here doesn’t make me one of the family like Teresa clearly is, no matter how many times Aunt Nia says otherwise.
Things feel a little better when Eilian mentions that school starts in the morning. It’s a fact that’d fallen clean off my radar until now and, although in some ways the thought of the first day at a new school is kind of unnerving to me, it’s also a topic I can get involved in a little bit. Even if they do talk a lot about people I don’t know. Like the teachers at Mawihl Academy. Or the other kids who’ve had their becomings recently and which schools they’ll be attending this term.
When they start talking about the symptoms of becoming, I’m kind of surprised that even Uncle Wyn shares a little about what it was like for him. I mean, it’s like they all enjoy talking about it. Like they’re all nostalgic or something, going over every detail as if they’re reliving the good old days. While I just sit and listen and think—with no small amount of disbelief—that all their becoming experiences sound like a series of minor annoyances compared to my nightmare days.
It’s only Eilian that’s having none of the sentimentality.
“I don’t know how you all can be so cavalier about it. I thought it was rubbish. All my life I heard about it as if it were some quaint little spell of feebleness while everyone cosseted and cooed over you, but there was nothing quaint about it at all.”
Aunt Nia and Teresa kind of laugh, but Eilian’s not finished.
“No, really. Didn’t you think it was miserable?” She turns to me for support, and I’m surprised at how gratified that makes me. How glad I am that I can absolutely agree.
“Um, yes,” I say, real emphatic, and my eye catches Dylan’s for a second, long enough for me to notice the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Like, the nausea went right through to your bones,” Eilian continues.
“Right.” I could barely describe it better.
“And that tickle to your skin that you just can’t get rid of. Drove me half mad.”
I nod some more.
“Then there were the raving hormones. It was like…it was like…” She pauses as if she can’t quite conjure up the right words, and I don’t even think about it before diving right in to help her out.
“Like you wanted to just jump on pretty much any guy that came within fifteen feet?”
When Dylan bursts out laughing—this full-bodied thing without any of his usual reserve—I realize too late that obviously he’d guess he’s the only person I could really be talking about.
My cheeks go hot and my eyes flash over toward him, but just then Aunt Nia—almost as if she can’t help herself—blurts out, “Oh, it’s so nice to hear that sound again,” and Dylan’s laughter just dies in his throat.
He looks like he was caught stealing or something. As in, there is actual shame showing on his face. Aunt Nia too—she clamps her jaw shut tight, raises her hand halfway up to her mouth as if she’s kind of horrified with the words that just came out of there. The whole atmosphere of the room has gone real awkward and, from everyone else’s expressions, I’m willing to bet I’m the only one who doesn’t understand why.
It’s Teresa that saves the day. Real quiet and unobtrusive, she takes Dylan’s hand in hers and leans around him to look at Aunt Nia.
“You almost didn’t make the becoming deadline for your first term at Mawihl, isn’t that right?” she asks as if nothing at all weird just happened, and Aunt Nia couldn’t look more grateful for the escape.
“Yes. Exactly right,” she nods all cheerful, shooting a quick glance over at Dylan, who’s already trying his best to act normal again too. “And if I’d started even one term later I might never have met Uncle Wyn.”
Back in my room half an hour or so later, I can’t help feeling just a little sorry for myself. I mean, after Teresa’s quick recovery everyone in the family was eager enough to put some cheer back into the room, but they couldn’t fix it totally. That unspoken uneasiness was still there in the air, and it was hard not to feel kind of weirdly left out by it. As if it was just another thing that ties them all together as family and keeps me on the outside.
Standing with my back against my door now and looking around my bedroom that still feels so big it could swallow me, what I want to do most of all is talk to my mom. Or Melodie or Sara or Logan. Even Agni. But I can’t talk to any of them right now. There’s only one person I can think of that I could talk to under the circumstances—only one person who in some way counts as mine—but it seems kind of weird to go calling her up out of the blue.
You barely even know the woman, I tell myself, pushing away from the door and heading into the bathroom. The whole time I’m getting ready for bed, though, her name keeps popping back into my head.
She’s probably sleeping already, I try instead as I head back into the bedroom and take a peek at the clock, but it’s not actually that late yet and in Wyoming it’s probably only about an hour ahead.
You’re supposed to call her.
I’m already slumping down into my bed when this thought occurs to me, and I must be feeling pretty desperate because it’s apparently the only convincing I actually need. Before I can second guess myself, I’m pressing my finger to my handyphone ring and telling it to call “Mom.”
When Mary answers with a “Hello, dear,” there’s the slightest hint of a question in her tone, and I chicken out immediately.
“Oh, sorry!” I say, trying as quick as I can to get off the phone. “You’re probably sleeping. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
“Oh, I can talk now, honey,” she stops me. “I could talk even if I had been sleeping. What’s on your mind?”
Of course, now that I’m on the phone with her I can’t think of a single thing to say. I mean, she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t have any reason to care about me, so I’m not real sure now why I thought this was even a good idea.
“Feeling homesick?” she asks into my silence, and for a second I’m wondering if maybe she can read my mind. “It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s natural. And eventually, if you don’t manage to get over it, you will at least learn to live with it.”
There’s a touch of humor in her voice and I remember now why I thought about calling her in the first place. There’s something about her that makes me feel like I could talk to her like a friend.
“I’m not real sure it was the right choice to come up here,” I confess to her, and my voice sounds kind of childish and small.
She takes a second to answer. When she does, there’s something about the words she chooses that, just for a moment, reminds me a little bit of my real mom.
“Well, you’ve got to figure that out for yourself, Sophie. Just remember that you’re strong. You’re strong enough to tackle tomorrow. And you’ll be strong enough to tackle the day after that. You do, you’ll remember, come from the Warren family, and there’s nothing a Warren can’t do as long as she takes it a day at a time.”
I kind of laugh at that, at Mary’s claiming me as her own when we both know it isn’t true, but even if I’m not actually a Warren, I do somehow feel a little bit more brave.
“Thank you,” I tell her, staring up at the folds of my bed’s golden canopy and thinking how funny it is that I turned to this stranger for comfort, and that it totally worked. “I think that’s exactly what I needed to hear tonight.”
“We’re both in this together,” she assures me, as if we really are. “You call me any time you want.”
After we say our goodbyes, I doze off for a little bit, with my legs hanging part off the bed and my head sandwiched between two of the huge pillows. I’m drifting through some half-familiar images, things I recognize from the delirium I had while Dylan hauled me through the snow-covered forests on our way here, things from the storm of images that rushed through my head when I first touched his skin.
It’s like my mind’s trying to make sense of it all. Trying to organize everything in a way that might mean something, but when I start to come back to consciousness again I can’t hold onto any of it. The images just go falling away all haphazard until I can’t even remember what most of them were.
What’s there instead is an eerie, familiar feeling. The sense—growing slowly stronger along the back of my neck—that I’m not the only one in the room.
I sit bolt upright, tucking my legs up under me and pushing myself flat against the thick wooden headboard of my bed. Just like this afternoon, I don’t see anyone there and I can’t locate any sort of essence, but at the foot of the bed—right where it just feels like someone is—there’s a deep impression in the quilt, as if it’s being pressed down by the weight of something unseen.
Previous: Chapter 12
Next: Chapter 14
Please let me know what you think, either by commenting below or emailing me here. Tell me if anything stood out to you in a good way. If anything stood out to you as bad. Is there anything in particular that you like about the characters themselves? Anything that bugs you about them? Were there any parts of this chapter that made you happy, scared, excited, sad, etc.?