The Hidden

“You can’t help that. You are what you are.” I propped my hand under my head. “It’s funny, though. Uri and I were talking about the same thing today. We went to this insane asylum that used to be a prison.”

“They took you to an insane asylum?” He looked shocked.

“Well, more of a mental health institute now. But, yeah. It wasn’t really all that bad.”

“I can’t believe they took you there. Especially after …”

“After what happened when I went to go stay with Aunt Marjorie? And seeing Dr. Pendleton?” I said.

“It seems a bit insensitive,” Caspian replied.

“I don’t think they meant it that way. They didn’t seem to think anything of it. It’s hard for them. They’re here only part of the time.” I told him what Uri had said about the white energy space, and what happened when they got their assignments.

“So there are more of us?” he said. “More Shades?”

“I didn’t get an exact count, but it didn’t sound like many. And they come at different times. It just happens when it happens.”

He looked at me intently. “I’m glad they made us in twos, then.”

My cheeks felt warm, and I looked down. “I thought I saw another Shade today,” I said. “At the asylum. There was a girl there, and she mentioned having a friend die. Then she said she could see my color. It was kind of spooky. Turns out she was a patient. Had a mental breakdown.”

“And you thought it could have been you,” he guessed. “That you could have been that girl.”

Sadness filled me. “Yeah. I did. She just looked so lost and alone. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. It was … tough to see.”

“She’ll get the help she needs if she’s in there. It’s the right place for her.”

“How do we know what the right place is? For any of us? She didn’t ask to be put in an insane asylum. She didn’t ask to have a mental breakdown. It just seems so unfair. So random. None of us really have a choice in life.”

“Are we still talking about her?” he asked gently. “Or you?”

“Her. Me. Don’t you get it? We’re both the same.”

He leaned in closer. He was almost right on top of me. “No. You’re not the same. For one thing, she doesn’t have me.”

A little laugh bubbled out of me. “Ego much?” But I smiled so he knew I was teasing.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that she doesn’t have me to love her. You do.”

Love. Love. Love. The word spun around in my brain and made me feel all fizzy in there. Closing my eyes, I nestled closer to him. Not touching, but close. Oh, so close. “November first, November first, November first,” I chanted. “Please come fast.”

* * *

I called Aunt Marjorie back after dinner that night. Caspian was up in my room, and I sat down on the porch to make the call.

“Hi, Aunt Marjorie. It’s Abbey,” I said. “How are you?”

“Well, bust my britches! I’m great! How are you, sweetie?”

I had to cover up the receiver so I could laugh. “I’m good, Aunt Marjorie.”

“School start yet?”

“Oh, yeah. They finally reassigned Kristen’s locker this year and gave it to someone new.”

She made a disapproving sound. “That must be hard to see.”

“It was, at first. But now it’s a little easier. The girl, Cyn, is really nice. That makes it better.”

“How did your summer schoolwork go?”

“Good. I passed my science test.” That was the unexciting part of the end of summer. I couldn’t tell her the other part, about Vincent. “Are you taking your plane out anymore? Or is it too cold?”

“She’s still going up. Not as often, though. I have to keep an eye on the engine and make sure the block heater doesn’t get too cold. It’s a bitch to unfreeze midflight.”

I laughed. “Aunt Marj, you are the coolest aunt ever.”

“I try,” she said. “So how are the other things? Fitting into your hole again?”

“My hole?”

“Round peg, square hole? It’s a metaphor for life. If you’re the square peg in a square hole, you fit back in.”

That makes sense in a strange sort of way. Aunt Marjorie logic. “Actually,” I said, “yeah. I am finding my place.”

“See? I knew you would. And you were worried about going back.”

“You were right. And I can honestly say, I wouldn’t be the same person if I hadn’t come back.”

“Then, everything was meant to be.”

“Hey, Aunt Marjorie,” I said, “if I don’t ever get the chance again, I just wanted to tell you how much I really appreciate everything you did for me. Especially the advice about love and being sure and all that. My head is a lot clearer now, and I can make decisions easier. So, thanks.”

“Decisions?” she said. “Planning something?”

“More so, just now I know what I need to do. And I’m at peace with that.”

“Are we talking about being at peace with ourselves because we are strong, individual, confident women who don’t need men, or are we talking about being at peace with a decision that involves something drastic?” She sounded alarmed.

“I don’t know what you mean by drastic, but it’s the right choice for me.”

“Abbey, you’ve discussed this with other people, right? Talked to someone else about it?”

“Well, yeah, actually, but it didn’t work. They don’t understand me. I tried to talk to Mom and Dad, but they just got upset.”

“You can talk to me. Please talk to me. You have other options. This is a serious decision! I know it might seem like the world is ending now, but there’s more in store for you. Just hold on. Some boy isn’t worth it!”

“Worth what?”

Now she sounded flustered. “Are-aren’t you talking about hurting yourself? Because a boy dumped you?”

I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but I did. “Um, no. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not?”

“No, Aunt Marjorie. I’m talking about having a clearer idea of where my life is headed. For the future.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded her voice. “Oh, that’s good. Very, very good.”

I shook my head at the phone. Hurting myself because a boy dumped me? I don’t know where she’d gotten that from. “Okay, then. So are we good? All clear?”

“All clear.”

“I’ll call you again soon.”

“Okay, sweetie. Talk later.”

I tucked my phone away and looked up. It was a beautiful night out, with clear skies and a big silvery moon. But there weren’t any stars.

Getting up, I dusted off my jeans and headed back inside. Luckily, I had my own set of stars. And someone to look at them with.

The letter from Aunt Marjorie came two days after our phone call, and I realized she must have written it pretty much right after I’d called her. I found it in the mailbox when I got home from school, and sat down on the front steps to read it.

Dear Abbey,

I feel that this letter has been a long time coming, mostly because I feel that you should know something very important about me. The irony that it seems like recent boy troubles have been on your mind is not lost on me, especially in light of this news.