Extraordinary October (3 page)

“Excuse me.” I stood up and the room was spinning.

“Let me help you,” said Madame Gold.

“No.” I backed away from her, for some reason desperate that she shouldn't touch me. I turned and rushed upstairs. I hoped I'd make it to the bathroom before hell broke loose.

I slammed the door behind me and sort of collapsed on the floor. The white tiles were cool through my jeans. I swallowed hard, ready to puke, but I didn't feel sick anymore. I could smell my mother's perfume. Mom, I thought. Mom. Somehow thinking of her made me feel better. I got up and opened the little window behind the shower and stood in the tub taking big, deep gulps of fresh air. Something about me was not right. I was sick, but with what? The symptoms were all over the place. I concentrated on breathing in and out and my head began to clear. The sky was a strange putty color, like the file cabinet in the school office. The clouds looked like overcooked cauliflower. The beautiful morning sun had vanished.

Then I saw something lying in the grass below me. A stuffed animal? I looked closer. It was a cat. The sweet little black and white cat that belonged to our neighbors. I waited for it to move.
We had too many birds around for the cat to be in our yard. “Scat!” I hissed out the window. But nothing. It was lying on its side not moving. I watched for a moment and I knew it wasn't sleeping. The cat was dead. I swallowed. My father hated cats. He always had and since the birdhouses he hated them even more, but this was—had been—a nice cat. A big black crow flew down and landed beside the body. I turned away as it began to peck at the poor cat's eyes.

It was after one. I had to go. I absolutely had to get out of the house. I splashed some water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I was a little pale, but not green like that kid in the nurse's office. And I realized I felt fine. My palms were fine. Once again, whatever it was had passed. I ran my brush over my hair, pleased that it was still looking good. As I turned to go, I caught a glimpse of my neck. There was an inch long raised red mark, like a burn. I must have scratched myself running upstairs.

Dad was standing at the bottom of the stairs as I came down.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Funny. It's been a weird day.” I looked around. “Did she leave?”

He nodded. “Isn't she something?”

“I don't know. I'm not crazy about her.”

“Let's give her a chance.”

“Okay.” I gave him a hug. Big as he was, he was still a great hugger. “You're a bird, huh? That explains so much.” We laughed. “I wonder what I am.”

“She said you were a bear.”

“Second time I've heard that today.” And I didn't think it was a good thing. I grabbed the car keys off the end table. “Gotta run. I'll be home for dinner.”

“Have fun.” He headed back to his birdhouses and I headed out the door.

3.

It's embarrassing, but I was four days from turning eighteen and had never had a boyfriend. Yes, I was still a virgin. Oh boy, was I. Far from having sex, I had never been kissed—unless you counted that time in 6th Grade playing that stupid Truth or Dare game. I had to kiss Jacob the Jock, but I didn't want to and neither did he so it was more like a peck. Afterwards he pretended to throw up.

It wasn't that I was afraid or frigid or wanted to wait until I was 30. I just hadn't met the right person. I'd read books. I'd seen plenty of movies. I just wanted someone like that—someone who made my toes curl, my breath come faster, my stomach flip. As I drove to Henderson Park thinking about Blue-Eyes was definitely making me sweat. Maybe it was the itch, maybe it was the color of his eyes—the opposite of my own—but for the first time ever I felt my heart thumping and jumping in my chest. I knew it was nuts and of course unrequited, he was older and way out of my league, but I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, I rolled up the window so my hair wouldn't get messy, and I kept checking my reflection in the rear view mirror.

I saw the car behind me, a Ferrari, low and black and expensive. It was odd that I, the car lover, hadn't noticed it before. The woman driving looked a lot like Madame Gold. Oh no, I thought. It was Madame Gold. Was she following me? No, she had left my house way before I did. The neighborhood surrounding Henderson Park was much more upscale than ours. I figured she lived nearby. Who would have thought hypnotists made so much money? Begrudgingly I admitted she had nice taste in cars.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse. I could feel the wind pushing on my old car and it rattled the windows. Leaves and sticks and trash skittered across the street. An empty rubber trashcan blew right in front of me and I jammed on my brakes just in time. Madame Gold's tires squealed behind me as she swerved and zipped past. She lifted one hand in a wave—obviously she had recognized me too—before she peeled around the next corner and disappeared. I was breathing hard. The trashcan continued rolling out of the way and I drove on.

Walker Smith was sitting alone on a bench as I walked across the playground from the parking lot. He was texting someone furiously and I got a quick pang of jealousy.

Stop it, I told myself. He's a college student. You're in high school. This is just an experiment.

I knew what kind of experiment I wanted it to be.

“Hey,” I called to him.

He looked up, saw me and grinned. His face opened like the sun coming through the gray clouds. I stopped. I wanted to spend a moment just bathing in that smile, letting it warm me. Driving over I'd been so nervous, but seeing him my stomach calmed, my shoulders relaxed. The only way to describe it is that he seemed familiar, comfortable, as if we were members of the same tribe. Which, I told myself, we couldn't be. He was from the College of Incredibly Handsome and I was from Camp Ordinary.

“Sit with me,” he said.

I sat beside him on the cement bench. Some brainchild juvenile delinquent had written “ass” on the edge of the seat in black marker, not even on the part where your ass actually went.
I wanted to add an arrow. I looked at Walker. He didn't have a laptop with him, or a notebook, only his phone that he had put away. What about the experiment? I waited for him to say something. Instead, he took my hand. I felt the touch of his fingers all the way up my arm, into my chest. He closed his eyes and put two fingers to my wrist, taking my pulse.

“Your heart is racing,” he said.

“Is this part of the experiment?”

He laughed and opened his eyes. “You're a worrier.”

“I'm thoughtful,” I countered. “There's a lot in this world to think about.”

“Not for long,” he said.

I didn't know what he meant. “I don't think the world's problems are going away any time soon.”

“Other things will become more important.”

“Like what?” I wondered if this was part of the experiment. I wondered if holding my hand was part of the experiment. Was the point to totally throw me off balance and then ask weird questions?

He played with my fingers. “Still itching?”

“Not at all.”

“Right as rain,” he nodded. “Isn't that what you said?”

I blushed, mortified that he chose to remember that of all things.

“Don't be embarrassed. It's perfect.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “Rain is always exactly right.”

I didn't want him to let go of my hand, but everything he said was a little confusing. He had blond, curly hair that was casually messy and I wondered if he worked hard to make it look that way. His jeans were expensive, if well worn, and he wore nice sneakers and a gray sweater that looked like cashmere. A blue T-shirt exactly the color of his eyes was just visible around the neck of the sweater. That T-shirt was definitely on purpose. He knew how good-looking he was and in my experience—okay, in books I'd read—guys like that were not to be trusted. I didn't know anything about him, I'd never even heard of Hayden College, and more importantly, no one knew where I was.

“When is this experiment thing going to start?” I forced my voice not to quaver.

“Soon.” He saw my discomfort and apologized. “I'm just curious, so curious.”

“About what?”

“You.” He did seem to be studying me. He smiled. “How did the itch begin?”

I groaned. I really didn't want to talk to him about that. “It went away.” I hoped that was enough, but he was persistent.

“Did it come on slowly? Gradually? Like a little tickle first, then a little more?”

Maybe if I told him we could move on to a more interesting subject. “It started out of nowhere,” I said. “In the middle of History class. The bottom of my foot. Bang. Like that. Like an explosion on my foot, followed by a fire everywhere.”

“Bang,” he almost whispered it. “You're lucky.”

“I am?”

“A strong itch means a strong reaction.”

“To what?”

“To turning eighteen.”

Birthdays didn't cause itching, did they? And how did he know I was about to turn eighteen? I supposed Principal Hernandez could have told him I was almost eighteen. I was a senior. The experiment was about applying for college. It wasn't so far fetched.

“I'm nervous,” I said. “About graduating. Moving away from home. Were you nervous when you went to college?”

“You'll be fine. I think you're made for this.”

“Made for what?” Okay, now he was creeping me out.

“Do you like the outdoors?”

I wasn't going to tell him. It was time to go home, past time. Lots of serial killers are attractive; I remembered that from the psycho-murderer show on PBS.

“I have to go,” I said. “I told my dad I wouldn't be long.” I tossed my hair back and Walker's grip tightened.

“What's that on your neck?”

With my free hand, I touched the red mark I had seen in the mirror. It was raised, bumpy, and kind of hot to the touch. “I don't know. I must've scratched myself.”

“Was there someone at your house today?”

“My dad.”

“Anyone else?”

“This kooky woman.”

He frowned and waited for me to go on, but I didn't want to tell him about my dad and Madame Gold.

“I must've bumped into something.” I stood up, pulled my hand from his and immediately shivered as if an ice cube had dripped down my spine. I wanted his warm hand back, but I turned away. “Thank you. Maybe we can try this at school one day.”

“I'm not here long.” He paused. “Four days. Tops.”

I shrugged and stepped back toward the parking lot.

“Yoo hoo!” A girl's voice rang out across the park. “Walker! October!”

It was Luisa and Jed, her tall, skinny boyfriend. They tossed the Frisbee back and forth as they walked toward us.

“What is she doing here?”

“She's part of the experiment,” Walker said.

I sighed. Next to Luisa's shiny dark hair and lovely long legs, I faded away.

“You didn't think you'd be the only one, did you?” Walker asked. “What kind of experiment would that be?”

Across the park I saw the puking kid from the nurse's office riding his bike in our direction. “Him too?”

“Chris Lee. Yes.”

“You just took everybody who went to the nurse.”

“Pretty much.” He smiled at me and stood up. “I need you all to have something in common.”

“Luisa wasn't even really sick. And I just had an itch. And this kid is too young for college. Plus he's going to give us all the stomach flu.”

“Trust me,” Walker said.

I took a step away from him and crossed my arms in front of my chest, but he moved closer.

“Don't worry,” he whispered. “You are why we're here.”

“What does that mean?”

“October.”

“Yes?”

“Answer a question?”

“Is this finally part of the experiment?”

He nodded, but I was not prepared for the question. He looked into my eyes and asked, “When you have your first kiss, what should it be like?”

I blushed to my toes. Was it so flipping obvious that I'd never been kissed? How did he know? The itch was tingling, threatening to erupt again.

“Tell me,” he said. “What do you want it to be?”

His blue eyes had darkened into pools of inviting water. I could fall into them. I could fall in and never come up.

“I don't want much.” I shrugged, tried to laugh, tried to be so much cooler and experienced than I was. “When someone kisses me, I expect the earth to move.”

“The earth to move,” he repeated. “Not much at all.” He didn't smile.

“Hey. Let's get this party started.” It was Jeb.

The connection between us broke and he turned to the others. I hoped no one noticed my red, embarrassed face. And then, worse, my stomach growled. I was flustered and suddenly I was starving and to top it off I had to pee. His experiment didn't make any sense. What did first kisses have to do with going to college? I waved at Luisa and motioned I was going to the bathroom. Walker didn't seem to notice as I walked away. He was busy shaking hands with Jed and little Chris, or Green, as I would forever think of him. I was cold and hurried over to the stucco park building. A gust of wind whipped my hair into my eyes blinding me.

I stumbled over a rock and somehow startled two crows. They flapped up in front of me, squawking. “Hey!” I cried as they circled my head and landed right in front of the door to the women's room. “Scram!” I waved my arms.

They just cawed back at me and in my imagination I heard them teasing me, “we're gonna get you.” Why would a crow want to get me? I thought of the crow in my yard, pecking at the dead cat. Crows are my least favorite bird, and one of the most common. They are everywhere in the United States. Corvus brachyrhynchos, a fancy Latin name for a flying rat. So black, so big, and they make that horrible noise. I know they steal the eggs from other birds and sometimes even kill and eat the young chicks. That makes them cannibals. Disgusting. But I was never afraid of a crow until the two in front of the bathroom. They stared at me, turning their heads this way and that to see me from each beady black eye. I stamped my feet. They didn't move. I really had to go to the bathroom. They were just a couple of birds. I stepped toward them reaching for the door handle and they attacked. They flew at me, wings beating the air. One of them landed on my shoulder and then hopped up and got its talons caught in my hair. The other one clawed up my leg and pecked at my thigh. I spun and slapped at them, but they attacked my hands. All the while I could have sworn I heard them speaking to each other, cheering each other on.

Then Walker was there, swinging at them with a tree branch. The birds backed off, but they didn't leave. They circled me until Green and Jed ran forward shouting with big sticks and they and Walker chased the two crows across the park. Green took a straw out of his back pocket and blew something, a rock or a bead, at one of them. He hit it, the crow gave a little squeal, “that hurt!” and fled, the other one following, and Jed and Green high-fived each other.

I put my head between my knees. I had imagined I could understand them. Not that it was difficult to figure out what a crow would say, but between that and the attack, the scratches and peck marks, I was dizzy.

“Has that ever happened before?” Walker ran up to me.

“Yeah, of course. Crows attack me all the time.”

“You should have asked me to go with you.”

“To the bathroom?”

“Or take Luisa.”

“Good idea,” I scoffed. “Luisa, who seems to have disappeared. Bet she's hiding under a picnic table.”

“Here I am.” Luisa came out of the bathroom with her ever-present Frisbee. “All clear,” she said to Walker.

And then I screamed as she let her Frisbee fly. I ducked, turned and saw her Frisbee smack into a final crow coming my way. The crow squealed—as much as a crow can—and flew away fast. An impressive, perfect shot. I'd never seen a Frisbee used as a weapon before. Then again, I'd never been attacked by crows before either.

Luisa trotted over to get her Frisbee. I looked from her to Walker to Green and Jed and back around again. They were all staring at me. Green cocked his head like a puppy, as if something about me was puzzling. He turned to Walker.

“That was interesting.”

Luisa said, “Your dad makes birdhouses, doesn't he?”

“He does. And I like birds too. Really.” On cue, two small birds tweeted above me. I looked up. “Cactus wrens, campylorhynchus brunneicapillus.”

“Huh?” asked Jed.

“My one skill. For some reason I remember all the Latin names.”

The little birds were pretty with speckled bellies and darker stripes of brown on their wings. They looked at me one way and then the other.