Can you see the things that no one else can see too?
I could ask her. I could walk right up to her and ask if she really did—if she saw the spirit of that woman. But I’d have to ask this in front of Anise and Marie Antoinette, and if I’m wrong, and Kalinda only screws up her face at me in confusion, I know I’ll never hear the end of it. Anise would never let anyone forget how Caroline Murphy is as crazy as she is evil, and there’s not much else worse in the world than a crazy, evil girl. Any chance I’d have of speaking to Kalinda ever again would be wiped clean from existence.
But I have to know. All my life, I’ve seen the things no one else can see. And if someone else can see them too … then maybe I’m not so alone after all. The idea of not being alone—of having someone who sees me, same way I see the things that no one else can see, makes me feel like I’m real. Like I deserve to exist on this planet alongside everyone else. That I get to be here because there’s someone else who wants me here too. It’s the difference of being invited directly to a birthday party instead of someone being forced to hand me an invitation, same way Anise Fowler was once forced to give me an invitation to her party but whispered that if I actually came, no one would really want me there.
If Kalinda Francis can see the things no one else can see, then I need to know.
I decide to take a risk.
The bell for lunch rings, and Missus Wilhelmina slowly finishes her sentence, to remind us that we aren’t allowed to leave until she dismisses us from class herself. Finally she does, and we all leap from our desks, and I see Kalinda moving with Anise and Marie Antoinette toward the door.
I jump in their path. There’s a crowd lined up behind them, twisting and turning their heads and sucking their teeth, waiting to leave. I realize I shouldn’t have stepped in front of them—should’ve waited until we were out in the courtyard until I could try to get Kalinda alone and away from her new friends—but I know I might never find the courage to speak to her again.
“What do you want?” Anise snaps. “Move out the way!”
I don’t. I still look at Kalinda, who seems surprised—but she still gives me my smile.
“Miss Francis,” I say, and immediately feel silly for using her last name. I almost do it—almost force the question out. Can you see the things too? But the words freeze in my throat. I swallow them and ask instead, “Would you like to join me for lunch today?”
The way Anise’s eyes bug from her face would be funny if it weren’t for the silence that follows. Anise recovers quickly, though, as do the people waiting behind her. There are the gasps and whispers, and Anise finally lets out a screeching laugh.
“Who does she think she is?” she demands. She begins to push past me, but stops when Kalinda says yes.
I must look like I didn’t really hear her, because she says it again. “Yes. I would love to, Miss Murphy.”
Stunned. We’re all stunned, and Anise looks like Kalinda turned and slapped her across the face. I let out a small laugh of disbelief.
Kalinda then takes my arm and acts like we’re the oldest of friends, sweeping me away from the room, and she wastes no time at all. I had no idea anyone could have so much to say, and so quickly.
“I’ve only been here a week. Not just at this school, but on Saint Thomas too. I’m from Barbados, you know, and my father brought me here to live with his sister because he was having a hard time finding a job in his profession, which is carpentry. Not just fixing cabinets and that kind of thing, you know, but carving whole chairs and tables and chests and anything else imaginable from wood. He’s really good at it too, but there are already so many good carpenters in Barbados that no one ever really needed him. But that’s all to say that even though I’ve only been here for a week, I already feel at home. I almost feel like I’ve never lived anywhere else at all.”
On and on she goes, and though this would normally be so frustrating, to listen to someone talk as much as the frogs make noise at night, I realize I don’t actually mind. That I love it, in fact. She isn’t making noise for the sake of making noise. She’s letting me inside her head, and for the first time in my life, I feel I can almost imagine it—what it’d be like to exist as a completely different person, to have their thoughts and feelings instead of my own. It’s a complete relief, like walking into my home and kicking off my loafers and sinking into the soft sofa after a very long and hot and tiring day.
We sit at the spot in the cafeteria where I normally sit alone, and I realize that though everyone usually looks at Anise’s table with admiration, today all the heads have turned to us instead. They don’t look at us in admiration, though. They look at us in complete shock. Some even seem angry. Like I’ve personally done something to offend them.
The angry stares I’m used to. I feel like I’ve never received any other sort of stare my entire life, except when my mother or my father looked my way. But I’m worried about Kalinda. She can’t be used to such negative attention—can she?
She doesn’t seem to notice, and maybe she really doesn’t, since she isn’t looking at anything or anyone but me. She asks me questions. She asks so many questions my head begins to
