Flicker Blue 1: Plain Jane, Page 2

  Chapter II

  The New Normal

  “You know, you may want to consider asking my mom to take you downtown again, Jane. I’m not sure you’re going to make it with only seven pairs of shoes for school.” Cris grinned as he watched Jane unpack the bags from a dozen different stores into her closet and dresser, then toss the empty boxes into the growing heap.

  Angelita Marquez had occupied herself in the last few days before school resumed by helping Jane shop for school clothes and supplies. She rarely let an hour pass without remembering one more item that would be absolutely essential to Jane’s survival of the second half of the school year. She pulled Jane from store to store in pursuit of the perfect pair of jeans, stacks of unmarked notebooks, even a shiny laptop computer—the first one Jane had owned. The generosity of the gifts made her uncomfortable, but Angelita insisted that Dr. Sylfaen had insisted, and so her protests were flatly ignored.

  Cris, at least, seemed amused by the stack of boxes that was accumulating in Jane’s bedroom.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?” she laughed, as always aware that she was adapting too easily to life in the Sylfaen mansion. She was accustomed to the cramped two-bedroom house that she had inhabited with her parents, but she had even more space to herself now despite sharing her new home with four other people. At any moment, she could seek out company—somebody else was always home, which was a novelty—or, when she preferred, she could take advantage of the plentiful space and go it alone. The solitude suited her.

  Most often when she ventured from her room, Jane found Angelita, who—when not leading a mad shopping mission—moved through the house like a cheerful phantom, humming and carrying with her the scent of oranges and wood polish. Her feet never stopped moving, never seemed to touch the floor, except during the hour or so before dinner, when she planted herself in between the kitchen island and the stove. There, she labored in fixed concentration, creating an endless variety of culinary delights—she could be heard throughout the entire first floor of the house, chuckling under her breath at her own genius.

  The only room that Angelita did not enter during her daily rotations was the library which dominated the second level of the mansion (the only other rooms on the second floor made up Dr. Sylfaen’s bedroom suite). Except on very rare occasions that the dust accumulation had grown out of control, Angelita walked up the grand staircase that ascended toward the library, rounded the half-turn where the staircase narrowed, and continued up to the third floor without stopping. Jane had been offered the choice of any of the third-floor bedrooms, as she was the only other occupant of the main house—the “big house,” as the household called it, though the nickname reminded Jane of a prison. She had selected the smallest, which was easily twice the size of the master bedroom her parents had shared.

  Angelita and Cristobel lived in the guest cottage, which was located on the back of the property, across a vast open lawn from the big house. The cottage was quaint and picturesque, a miniature of the larger house but half-covered with ivy and set before a curtain of trees. Neither of the Marquezes spent much time there. Angelita spent work and free time alike in the big house, and Cris, who seemed to have fallen prey to the same brand of crazy that had afflicted Jane’s parents, rarely left the library at all except to eat and sleep. He might have opted to perform those errands there as well, if his mother would have permitted it. A few times during the remainder of the Winter Break, Jane accompanied Cris to the library, and although she could not have cared less about the mountains of foreign books that Dr. Sylfaen and his avid pupil pored over there, she discovered during their conversations that Cris attended the same high school to which she would be transferring. He was enrolled in all honors courses, so they weren’t likely to have any of the same classes even though they were both sophomores. She also learned that Cris was several months younger than her but had skipped a grade when he was in elementary school—he was, to Jane’s surprise, a full-fledged geek despite his unkempt appearance. Jane generally despised the “smart kids” at school, but she enjoyed Cris’s company and looked forward to being introduced to his friends, if he had any. And, though she enjoyed his pleasant voice well enough, she especially appreciated that he did not possess the need to fill every second with conversation.

  Jane never, during the whole of her Winter Break, saw Gregory except at dinner time; he spent his days driving Dr. Sylfaen, or running errands for him. Gregory spent his free time away, or hanging out in the immense garage with the collection of cars that Jane suspected he cared for even more than their owner. As Jane had even less interest in car maintenance than she did in books written in dead languages, she had no reason to join him there.

  Jane was allowed all the solitude she’d enjoyed before moving in with the Sylfaen household.

  Except on the occasions—like this one—that Cris left the library to seek her out, which was becoming a common, but not unwelcome, occurrence.

  “Who says I’m supposed to be helping you?” Cris laughed back, throwing both hands up and playfully recoiling from the cluster of shopping bags strewn over her bed. “I don’t work for you, Jane Thomas.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that was the reason you abandoned Dr. Sylfaen to come up here.”

  “He’ll get along fine without me for a little while. We’ve gotten stuck on a translation, so I might as well take a break while he contacts a colleague who is an expert in—.”

  Jane waved an impatient hand to cut him off. “Yeah, cool, got it. I still thought you came up to help me.”

  He dropped into the small arm chair under her window and propped his feet on the end of her bed. “I am helping. I’m keeping you company.”

  “Or hiding from your mom.”

  “That, too. Any minute now, she’s going to realize that I have to go back to school tomorrow, too, and attack me with a new pair of shoes. You know better than anyone what it’s like shopping with her.”

  Jane rolled her eyes and disappeared into her closet for several minutes. Neither of them spoke until she emerged with an armful of new sweaters and a wry expression on her face. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong, Janie?”

  “I am going to have to go back out.”

  “For what?”

  “Hangers.”

  “Jane Thomas, you promised to call me once you got settled in! I’ve been worried about you. You can’t just disappear on your friends!”

  “Sorry, Lucy. I really have just settled in—and I’ve been busy getting ready for my new school. I know I should have called you sooner.” Jane felt like she was lying into her end of the telephone. She’d had plenty of time to check in with her old friend.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. Ready to start school again.”

  “Ha!”

  “Okay, ready for something normal,” Jane corrected.

  “Ooh, is the old man creepy? Do you live in a big haunted mansion?”

  “Not really. He’s a little strange, and the house is big, but everyone is really…nice.” The description was lame, Jane knew, but she couldn’t think of a better way to answer without making it sound exactly like she lived in a haunted mansion with a creepy old man.

  “Everyone?”

  “Oh, yeah—his housekeeper and her son live here, and his driver.”

  “Are you for real?”

  “Yeah. It’s no big deal. They’re more like his family.”

  “Weird. So when do I get to meet them?”

  Jane took a breath. She didn’t want Lucy to come to Everword and meet the Sylfaen clan, though she wasn’t sure why. “Um…soon. Let me get used to my new school first, and then I’ll have you over.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Fine. Alright, Jane, good luck tomorrow. Call me soon.”

  Within five minutes of introducing herself to the registrar at Everword High School, Jane was assigned to a very tall,
very blond student ambassador, who was charged with showing her around and making sure she could find all of her classes. “I’m Hannah Grace Gale,” the blond simpered as she proffered a hand too limp to shake.

  Now she shakes hands like a girl, Jane thought as she stifled a giggle. “Oh, okay. I’m Jane Thomas.”

  Blondie blinked. “Oh. I—uh, heard that you would be starting school with us soon.”

  “You did?”

  The two girls left the office and approached a long hallway lined with lockers alternately painted in white and Crayola green. “Your parents’ car accident was on the news,” Hannah Grace explained. “I’m really sorry. If there’s anything you need, or—hey, I like those jeans.”

  Despite herself, Jane laughed at the sudden change of subject. Hannah Grace’s show of concern, though seemingly authentic, had been overridden just in time to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. Priorities, Jane mused. “Thanks, I guess. They’re new.”

  Hannah Grace shrugged her heavy tote higher onto her shoulder. “So, how do you like Everword so far? Is it small enough for you?” Her sarcasm was softened by a twinge of southern accent. Jane imagined that most people probably found that to be charming.

  “I don’t really know. It doesn’t seem so small to me, and I’ve only seen my godfather’s house and a few of the stores downtown. And the high school, now.”

  “Have you met anyone yet?”

  “Just you. Oh, and Cris Marquez. He’s a sophomore here—do you know him?”

  Hannah Grace raised her eyebrows. “I’ve seen him around. Kind of a weird guy, isn’t he?”

  “Maybe so,” Jane laughed. “But he’s been a good friend to me. I don’t mind weird so much.”

  “How did you two meet? I didn’t think he got out much.”

  “We, um, sort of live together. I mean, on the same property. His mother works,” she couldn’t bring herself to say for—that just didn’t fit, “with my godfather.”

  “Oh,” Hannah Grace answered noncommittally. “So. Your first class is Advanced Sophomore English with Mr. Andersen. That’s on the South Hall, this way.”

  “Wait—Advanced English? That’s got to be a mistake. I was in regular English back at home.” And barely eked out a B last quarter, Jane added mentally.

  “Well, I’ll show you where Mr. Andersen’s room is, and you can ask him if there’s been a mix-up with your schedule. I’ll meet you outside after class—I have second period Biology with you.”

  Mr. Andersen’s class had already begun when Jane approached him with her yellow slip of paper. He was in the middle of asking questions about a novel that the students had been required to read over the break when she entered, and he made her wait until the red-headed girl in the front row finished answering before he reached out to take the slip from her trembling hand. He looked it over.

  “Jane…Thomas. Okay, you can sit back there in the third row. Too bad we didn’t find out that you were being transferred to this class before Christmas, or I could have given you the assignment.”

  “Actually, I think there’s been some mistake.” Jane could feel the eyes of the other students in the class on her, and she tried to make her voice sound steadier than she felt. “I’m supposed to be in regular English…like I was at home.”

  Mr. Andersen gestured for her to wait while he used a telephone mounted on the wall behind his desk to call the front office and inquire about his new pupil. “Hmmm… I see,” he nodded into the receiver. “Thanks, Mrs. Norris. I’ll tell her.” As he hung the phone up, he spoke directly to Jane. “Nope, no mistake. The seat in the third row will be fine. Now, we’ll be discussing the final chapters of A Tale of Two Cities this week, so just follow along the best you can and I’ll talk to you after class about how to get caught up.”

  “That’s okay. I—I’ve read it before.”

  “For a class?”

  “No. I just like to read on my own.”

  “Dickens?”

  Jane could feel the color rising in her cheeks. “Sometimes.”

  “Alright then, Jane Thomas. Take your seat, and be sure to bring a copy to class with you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Mr. Andersen resumed quizzing the other students in the class before Jane was halfway to her desk. She tried not to look at anybody she passed, but she knew instinctively that all eyes were on her as she stumbled for her chair. She dropped her heavy bag, slumped into the seat, and buried her face in her arms.

  “Pssst. Jane.” The whisper from the desk behind her was accompanied by a hard tap on her back. “Hey, Janie.” She whirled around and found herself face to face with Cris Marquez, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Did you know about this?” she growled as quietly as she could manage.

  Cris shrugged and smiled at her, then deliberately turned his face back to Mr. Andersen and raised his hand to answer the next question. He had known; that could only mean that Dr. Sylfaen was behind her schedule confusion. I’ll kill ’em both for this, Jane fumed silently as she opened to the first page in one of her clean notebooks.

  The rest of the morning was not as traumatic as first period, but Jane was still reeling when she sat down in the cafeteria at lunch.

  “Hey, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Hannah Grace descended into the seat across the table from her, the Goodwill ambassador smile still plastered across her face.

  “No. I feel like crap.”

  “How are your new classes?”

  Jane began to move her lips to respond, but she was cut short. “So…Jane,” Hannah Grace barreled forward in her stage-coached voice, “this is Josh.” She giggled and brushed her manicured fingers over the newcomer’s shoulder as he sat down beside her.

  Yeah, I could puke now, Jane thought to herself, but she attempted a more civilized greeting. “Hey,” she managed.

  “And this is Brandon,” Hannah Grace continued her introductions with a sweeping gesture to the seat next to Jane. Jane looked up in time to see a moderately good-looking guy with bleached-tipped spiky hair take the seat next to her.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey. I haven’t seen you around before.” He had a nice smile—Jane had to give credit where it was due—but the way the florescent cafeteria lights gleamed in his gelled spikes was a bit distracting for her taste.

  “I, uh, just moved here. This is my first day.”

  Hannah Grace stepped in. “She’s Jane Thomas…you know, the girl whose parents died in the car accident out in Orchard Bridge last month.”

  “You know what I love most about you, Hannah Grace? You’re so sensitive,” said a short girl with a cropped, asymmetrical haircut that balanced her slightly crooked glasses. The new girl sat across the table, next to the boy Hannah Grace had introduced as Josh. “My name’s Anna.”

  Jane smiled as Hannah Grace tossed her cornsilk mane behind her shoulders and glared at the intruder two places down from her. “You know what, Anna? I don’t recall anyone inviting you to sit over here.”

  “And yet here I am. Mind-boggling, isn’t it?” Anna looked back at Jane. “So, Jane. I saw you in English this morning. What was the problem with your schedule?”

  “I think my godfather—that’s who I live with now—changed my schedule. I used to take regular English at home, and no one here seems willing to switch me back.”

  “Why would he—oh, hey,” Anna moved her books under her seat to make room at the table for another curious classmate, come to ogle the new girl. Jane was losing track of all the new names, so she just smiled and focused on Anna. She seemed nice enough—a bit like Lucy minus the bizarre make-up. “Why would he make you change your classes?”

  Spiky Hair Brandon interrupted through a mouthful of French fries. “Who made you change your classes, Jane?”

  “My godfather.”

  “Did he tell you that he wanted you to switch to the other English class?” Hannah Grace asked as she picked at the food on her tray.

  “No.”

  “Well then, h
ow do you know it was him if he didn’t tell you about it before school started back?”

  “I could just tell. Cris seemed to be in on it, so—.”

  “Who?” Anna looked up from her lunch.

  “Cris.” Jane swallowed. “Uh, Cristobel Marquez. Do you know him?”

  Anna shook her head, “No—well, yes, but not really. I mean, I know who he is. Are you friends with him?”

  “Oh. Well, he lives in the house behind Dr. Sylfaen’s—my godfather’s—house.” That seemed vague enough, but still truthful. “He, um…well, he comes around my place a lot.”

  “Are you seeing him?” Anna asked with one eyebrow arched.

  “What? No, no—he comes to see Dr. Sylfaen.”

  “Why?” Anna seemed genuinely curious.

  “I don’t really know….” Jane sounded as if she were going to continue, but her words broke off as a tall olive-skinned boy with shaggy black hair sat down in the vacant seat beside her, on the side not occupied by Brandon.

  “Hey, Janie. I’ve been looking for you—I usually sit outside, you know?” Hannah Grace looked skeptically at the others at the table, even Anna, as Cris spoke. “Why don’t you have any food?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before scooping an enormous handful of French fries onto a napkin and pushing it in front of her. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about this morning.”

  “Um, Cris? This is Hannah Grace. And this is Anna.”

  “Oh, hi,” he answered without seeming to notice either of the girls, who watched him in disbelief. “I was going to tell you about the English thing, but Dr. Sylfaen made me promise not to because you’re so damn stubborn that he—.”

  “Cris, I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? I was trying to introduce you to my new friends.”

  “Right. I’m sorry.” Cris recovered himself and extended a hand to Hannah Grace, then realized that it was covered in French fry grease. He wiped it off on his jeans with a grin. “I’m Cris Marquez. I’ve seen you around school before. You, too,” he added as he turned further down the table to Anna.

  “So, Cris, how do you know Jane?” Hannah Grace tossed her silky blond hair over one shoulder flirtatiously.

  “Well, we just met over the break. My mom works for Dr. Sylfaen, and I…well, I guess you would call him my mentor or something.”

  “Huh. And you’re name is Marquez? So you’re, like, Spanish or what?”

  “Cool it, Hannah Grace. He doesn’t need to be interrogated.” Jane wasn’t sure whether her friend was grilling Cris because she was being protective of her or merely curious. Either way, Jane was annoyed.

  “It’s fine, Janie,” Cris laughed. “Actually, I’m half Mexican. My mom moved here from Mexico City when I was just a little kid. My dad was black, or so my mom tells me. I never met him.” He was surprisingly nonchalant about explaining his ethnicity and family history to someone who was, despite attending the same school, a virtual stranger. He even managed to finish the plate of fries, except for the untouched heap he had forced on Jane.

  “Really? So that makes you like…I don’t know, Blaxican?”

  Jane nearly stood up to scold Hannah Grace for being a jerk to someone she’d never even spoken to before. Anna and the others gaped at her rudeness. Cris, on the other hand, slapped the table and laughed so forcefully that he snorted.

  “Yep. Sign me up for the freak show. Step right up, and come see a real, live Blaxican.”His reaction was infectious; within seconds, everyone at the table was laughing along with him. Everyone except Hannah Grace, who rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

  Was she trying to offend him? If so, she had definitely been unsuccessful; Cris seemed as laid-back as ever and more than a little amused at Hannah Grace’s expense. Jane doubted whether she could have kept her cool if someone had spoken to her that way. She wondered, too, at his ability to be so serious about things like school and his work in the library, and then so comfortable with people he’d never met. Jane had completely frozen up that same morning at the prospect of being in a few new classes.

  When nobody had spoken for a minute or two, Cris broke the silence by reaching across the table and swiping a large forkful of Hannah Grace’s baked potato.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Eating.” Cris gave his signature shrug. “This freak show ain’t free.” He grinned around the mouthful of potato. Anna giggled, and Jane couldn’t help smiling, too, as she nibbled one of the donated French fries.