Кирстен Уайт - Paranormalcy

“Wait—seriously? There are unicorns? You’re lying.” I narrowed my eyes.

She laughed. “Maybe if you’re really good and start doing your homework I can take you to see them.”

“Shouldn’t being a Level Seven get me out of homework?”

“Not on your life.” She brushed some stray hair away from my face, smiling. “I let you get away with quitting piano lessons when you were ten because that troll teacher scared you, and I’ve never forgiven myself. No slack on homework. Now, since we’re here, we might as well do a little shopping, don’t you think?”

I sighed. Mine was nowhere near as impressive as one of Raquel’s sighs, but maybe if I worked at it someday I wouldn’t need to talk at all. “I’m not really in the mood.”

She looked worried. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah. Come on.” I loved shopping but did all mine online. Raquel used to buy my clothes for me, but I put a stop to that years ago. A girl can take only so many navy blue skirts and starched white shirts. But being here, actually being able to try things on, feel them, and see the color in real life was way better than pointing and clicking. By the time we were finished Raquel and I were both loaded down with bags.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how I’ll fill this out on my expense reports.”

“Just list it as therapy bills,” I suggested. She laughed and we headed for the door. A small store caught my eye. “Oh, just a sec!” She gave a you’ve got to be kidding me sigh, but followed me into the art supply store. I picked out a nice sketchbook and some charcoal pencils. Then, for good measure, I threw in colored pencils and pastels.

“Taking up a new hobby?” Raquel asked as she paid for all of it.

“I figured my wall could use a break, right?” She had patiently ignored my decorating, but I knew it bothered her.

We walked out and into a delivery alley. When she was sure no one was watching, she called for a pickup and a door appeared. I guess that was a perk to being Raquel—my pickups always took a few minutes. The same faerie who had dropped me off stepped out and took our hands. You’d think she’d be mad after I lied to her, but faeries only care about the things they care about, if that makes any sense. She didn’t so much as give me a second glance.

When we walked back into the Center, Raquel helped me carry the stuff to my unit. We set the bags down and she put her hand on my shoulder, searching my face. “You’re okay?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She seemed satisfied and left. My smile dropped off. Things weren’t fine, and I had no idea if they ever would be again.

I CAN SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU

T he next morning I was still feeling down. My marathon of Easton Heights last night hadn’t done anything to cheer me up. If anything, it kinda made me feel worse. I knew it wasn’t like real life, but it still reminded me of all the things I wouldn’t have: proms, catfights, best friends who actually had legs and breathed air, boyfriends. Boyfriends especially.

I pulled Lish up on my vid screen. “Raquel available today?”

She shook her head. “She is not in the Center. More meetings. Do you want me to call her?”

“Oh, no, no big deal. Just wanted to ask her something; there’s no rush.” I smiled and waved to

Lish, then shut off the screen. Going through my bags of new stuff, I pulled on a zebra-print wrap dress and fitted hot pink stiletto boots. My style was a little over-the-top, but if you lived in a place where everything was white you’d want to liven it up a bit, too. The boots didn’t make me as happy as I thought they would. Still, I looked good.

I grabbed the bag of art supplies and was about to walk out the door when I had a better idea. A few years ago Raquel had given me a pair of Rollerblades for Christmas. I wreaked such havoc zooming through the hallways and smashing into everyone and everything that she took them away. I did, however, have a rolling chair at the desk in my room. If riding that through the halls didn’t make me at least a little happier, I didn’t know what would.

I hooked the bag around the back of the chair and pushed it into the hall. Backing up a few feet, I got a running start and jumped on. It shot down the hall, veering to the left until I slammed into the wall. I took the long way, with very odd stares (and a few swear words if they had to dive away) from the people that I passed. In Lend’s hall I leaned so that the chair would roll into his room and made it halfway to the bed before tipping over. I looked up at his very surprised face. “Hey.” I giggled.

“Hey?” He raised one eyebrow. Dang that one eyebrow! Today he was wearing the dark-haired, dark-eyed hottie again. I liked that one.

“So.” I jumped up, straightening my dress. “You were right.”

“I was right?”

“Yup. IPCA has me right up there with faeries. All this time I thought I was part of the family; turns out I’m under observation. Awesome.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

“Yeah, well, I think they’re wrong. Because when I look at myself, all I see is me. Nothing else.” I had been thinking about it pretty obsessively and it made sense. If I were a paranormal, I’d see something.

“So you can see through other things? Not just me?”

I wasn’t supposed to talk about it, but I didn’t care. “Sorry, you’re not that special.” I grinned at him. “If it’s a paranormal, I can see what it is, no matter what’s on the top.”

“Wow. Nice trick.”

“Comes in handy. So, I brought you a present.” I handed him the bag. He looked inside and a smile spread across his face.

“Thanks! This is great.”

“I thought you could teach me a little bit. I’m not really great at figures.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got a great figure.”

He was flirting with me! I laughed, blushing. “Dork.” He laughed back and sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space beside him. He spent the next hour explaining proportions and how to depict them. By the end of the hour I was still terrible but getting better. And having fun, too, which was nice.

“So, can you see through anything?” he asked, sketching me again.

I watched his hands, fascinated by the interplay between the hands he was showing me and his real hands underneath. “No. I can’t see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren’t real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don’t look—It’s hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don’t try to see anything, because—Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.”

He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to think. “Huh. That’s never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.”

I nodded, still mortified. Desperate to change the subject, I said, “So what about you? Are you just, like, projecting things, or can you actually make your hair longer and stuff?”

He shimmered, a long-sleeved shirt replacing his short-sleeved one. He held out his arm and I hesitantly touched the fabric. It was tangible, but felt too smooth to be real. “Hair’s the same way.”

“That is so freaky.” I took the fake material between my fingers. “Can you feel this? Is it like part of you or something?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I have no idea how I do it or how it works.”

“Is that why you broke in? To find out what you are?”

He laughed. “No. I don’t care what I am according to IPCA.”

I frowned. “Yeah, me neither. Why did you sneak in?”

After a pause, he shook his head. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Much as I wanted to know, I realized it didn’t really matter. Neither of us were going anywhere.