Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) Page 6

  No matter what was going on, I knew that I definitely couldn't tell anyone about what had happened. Having visions was crazy enough. Having visions that turned into real people was certifiable. And the craziest part was that I hoped it would happen again.

  As I walked into English, I noticed that Bryony and Annamaria were standing listlessly by Irina's desk. I figured that Irina must be out today. Without their leader, the two of them didn't seem to know what to do with themselves.

  Mr. Hightower was still subbing, but after giving me an over-bright smile and greeting me warmly, he didn't notice me again after that. Instead, he skipped role as he had hinted he might yesterday and gave the class a free period. I had plenty of work to do for my other classes, so I kept busy until the bell rang at the end of the period. I was so deeply engrossed in my work that the bell startled me.

  As students started filing out, Charisse bounced up to my desk. "Hi!"

  I looked up at her smiled. "Well, you're cheerful today."

  Charisse dimpled. "I have good reason to be."

  I stood up and swept my books into my backpack. "Does your good mood have something to do with your big secret?"

  "It does," Charisse replied.

  I slipped my backpack on. "Does that mean you're going to tell me what it is now?"

  Charisse moved toward the door. "Not yet."

  I hurried after her. "Charisse!"

  She threw me an innocent look over her shoulder. "What?"

  I caught up to her, and the two of us filed out into the busy hallway.

  "Charisse, you promised," I said.

  She giggled. "I know. I will tell you, but just a little later. It's so crowded now. And it'll be crowded at lunch, too. I want to tell you when it's just you and me. Let's make an appointment to meet at the picnic table after school."

  "Charisse, I can't believe you're dragging this out."

  "Please, Katie. This is really important to me. And I have a question to ask you afterward, so you should prepare yourself."

  "All right," I said.

  "It's nearly the end. I promise," Charisse said. "So how are you doing? I haven't heard much about what's going on with you lately."

  I looked away from Charisse. The strange guy from the mirror rose in my memory. I wanted to tell her about him, but I knew I couldn't. I'd already decided that the whole thing was too crazy to talk about. If I hadn't been able to tell her about the hallucinations, I certainly wasn't going to be able to tell her that the hallucinations had become real. I cast around for something to say.

  Charisse seemed to notice my discomfort. "Do you still think Mr. Hightower is creepy?"

  Charisse's guess about what was troubling me was incorrect, of course, but I was thankful for the diversion. "I don't know. Maybe 'creepy' is a strong word. I'm just a little uncomfortable with how hard he tries to make people like him. And why doesn't he call roll? It's like he's encouraging people to cut class. I doubt if he even noticed that Irina wasn't in English today."

  Charisse blinked in surprise. "Do you think Irina was cutting class? She's as much of a bookworm as you are."

  I shook my head. "I don't think she cut class. But what if something happened to her or someone else? What if it was important to know whether or not a student made it to class? I'm convinced he doesn't know the names of most of the people in there."

  Charisse shrugged. "Maybe he just wants to make his time as a sub as easy as possible."

  "Maybe," I replied. "I just think he's not doing us any good."

  "Don't despair," Charisse said smiling. "Mr. Del Gatto will be back soon, and then you can bask in his grumpiness once again."

  Charisse stopped. "Well, this is my hallway. I'll see you at lunch."

  As she walked away, I found myself scanning the crowd for the strange guy from the mirror. He hadn't said whether or not he was a student here, but he was in the school, and he certainly looked like a student. Somebody must have seen him. Maybe I would ask around.

  The strange guy was still on my mind when I walked into the cafeteria for lunch. I found Simon sitting alone.

  I sat down next to him and glanced around. "Where's our favorite couple? This is the first time I've beaten them to lunch."

  "They're being mysterious again," Simon replied.

  "So, you noticed that about them, too?" I asked.

  "Yeah," Simon said. "Branden said he had something to tell me today."

  I looked at him sharply. "Charisse said the same thing to me. Do you have any idea what it is?"

  "No." Simon looked down at his tray and stabbed at some lettuce. Then he looked up at me. "They aren't my favorite couple, you know."

  I met his gaze. "No?"

  "No," he replied firmly. "We are." He went on in a rush. "I want to make it up to you for my spending so much time with Irina this week. Would you like to go see a movie this Saturday? I really miss spending time with you."

  As Simon said the words, I felt a strange tug on my heart – as if something were pulling me away from him. I was suddenly irritated with all of the strange things that had been happening to me lately, especially with the weird feeling that kept pushing me away from Simon. I'd known him forever, and he was a good friend. Why shouldn't I spend time with him? I smiled at him. "I'd like that."

  Take that crazy feeling, I said to myself.

  Simon's answering smile made my heart feel glad. Maybe we could actually work as a couple.

  A backpack hit the table with a resounding thud, causing the trays to jump.

  "Now, who're the googly-eyed lovebirds?"

  I looked up to see Branden grinning down at us. With one big hand, he pushed his backpack out of the way and slid his tray into place. Then he sat down heavily.

  Charisse sat down next to him.

  "So glad you could join us today," Simon said.

  "We had business to attend to," Branden replied loftily.

  "So, how are you doing today, Simon?" Charisse asked.

  Simon feigned shock. "I can't believe you're actually talking to me. Don't you and McKenna want to spend the entire lunch period staring soulfully into one another's eyes?"

  "Very funny," Charisse said.

  "Actually, we have a lot to talk about today," Branden said.

  Charisse kicked him under the table. "Don't tell them. I promised Katie I would tell her when it was just the two of us."

  Branden grinned. "What? I was just going to tell them the news about Mr. Del Gatto."

  I was suddenly alert. I had a feeling something was wrong. "What's the news about Mr. Del Gatto?"

  Branden leaned forward confidentially. "The story is that he's missing."

  I was startled. "What do you mean 'missing'?"

  "I mean nobody knows where he is," Branden replied. "Travis Ballenski told me. His dad is a cop. It turns out that Mr. Del Gatto's neighbor, Mrs. Hannity, called the police after there was a lot of crashing and screaming over at his house. The police went out and found that the back door had been pulled off its hinges and Mr. Del Gatto was nowhere in the house. The police have been looking for him, but they haven't found him yet."

  Branden's story left me feeling chilled. "When did this happen?"

  "Monday night," Branden said through a mouth full of food.

  "Was it a home invasion or something like that?" Simon asked.

  Branden shook his head. "No one knows exactly. But the cops don't think so. Nothing seems to have been taken. But then, Mr. Del Gatto lived alone, so there isn't anyone who can say for sure if anything is gone."

  "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 c
alled 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 wil
l 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."

  I felt a rush of sympathy for GM – she sounded so forlorn. "Then you have to tell me what she saw," I said.

  GM nodded and sighed deeply. "I will tell you. Though I do so with a heavy heart."

  GM paused and a look of pain came into her face. "Your mother had visions of a man. She saw a man named Gleb Mstislav."

  I drew in my breath sharply. "Is that the man Galina believes killed my mother?"

  GM bowed her head. "Yes."

  "And what do you believe about him?"

  "I believe Gleb was a very bad man. I believe he was a mobster. I believe he killed a number of people."

  "But not my mother?"

  GM shook her head. "No. She died of a fever, Solnyshko. I saw it myself."

  "And now Galina believes that Gleb is back, and we are somehow in danger."

  "Yes. But that cannot be."

  "Why not? You said yourself that Gleb was a bad man."

  "It cannot be because Gleb Mstislav is dead."

  As GM said the words, a strange coldness came over me, though I hardly knew why. I remembered now that GM had told Galina that the man they were discussing was dead. If Gleb was dead, then surely none of us had anything to worry about.