Chapter 19
I WAKE WITH CLENCHED TEETH, A SOUR TASTE IN my mouth. I
tossed and turned all night, not only because the Chest is
finally in my possession and I’m anxious to try to talk
Adelina into opening it with me this morning, but also
because I revealed too much to too many people. I put my
Legacies on full display. How much would they all
remember? Will I be exposed before breakfast? I sit up and
see Ella in her bed. Everyone is still asleep in the room,
except for Gabby, La Gorda, Delfina, and Bonita. Their
beds are empty.
My feet are about to touch the ground when Sister Lucia
appears in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her mouth
twisted into a frown. We make eye contact and I lose my
breath. But then she takes a couple steps backwards and
allows the four girls from the nave to wobble into the room,
dazed and bruised, their clothes ripped and dirty. Gabby
stumbles to her bed and falls face-first onto it, the pillow
enveloping her head. La Gorda rubs her double chin and
lies back onto her bed with a grunt, and Bonita and Delfina
slowly crawl under their covers. As soon as all four girls are
motionless, Sister Lucia yells that it’s time to get up. “And
that means everyone!”
As I try to pass by Gabby on the way to the bathroom,
she flinches.
La Gorda stands at the mirror inspecting the
discoloration of her skin. When she sees my reflection over
her shoulder, she immediately turns on the faucet and tries
to focus on washing her hands. I can get used to this. I don’t
really want to intimidate people, but I like the idea I might be
left alone.
Ella skips out of one of the bathroom stalls and waits her
turn at the sinks to wash up. I worry that she’s going to be
scared of me because of what I did in the nave, but the
moment she sees me Ella dramatically flexes her right hand
over her head. I lean into her ear. “So you’re okay?”
“Thanks to you,” she says loudly.
I catch La Gorda’s eyes in the mirror. “Hey,” I whisper.
“Last night is our little secret. Everything that happened last
night is our secret, okay? Don’t tell anyone.”
She puts her finger to her closed lips and I feel better, but
there is something about the way La Gorda looked at me
that doesn’t sit well.
I’m so preoccupied by what might be in the Chest that I
forego my morning internet search for news on John and
Henri Smith. I don’t have the patience to wait for morning
Mass to see Adelina so I walk from room to room looking
for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. The first bell rings
for morning Mass.
I shuffle in beside Ella in one of the last rows and wink at
her. I locate Adelina in the front row. Halfway through Mass,
Adelina looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact
with me. When she does, I point up to the nave’s nook
where she hid the Chest so many years ago. Her eyebrows
raise.
“I couldn’t understand what you were saying,” Adelina
says after Mass. The two of us stand under a stained glass
window of Saint Joseph on the left side of the nave, and
we’re bathed in a patchwork of muted yellows, browns, and
reds. Her eyes match the seriousness of her posture.
“I found the Chest.”
“Where?”
I nod my head up and to the right.
“I am the one who was supposed to decide when you’re
ready, and you are not ready. Not even close,” she says
angrily.
I pull my shoulders back and set my jaw. “I was never
going to be ready in your eyes because you stopped
believing, Emmalina.”
The name catches her off guard. She opens her mouth
and stops before letting loose whatever tirade is on her
tongue.
“You have no idea what I’m going through in here with
these other girls. While you’re walking around holding onto
your Bible and praying and counting the beads on your
rosary, you don’t care at all that I’m getting bullied, that I
have just one friend, that all the Sisters hate me, and that
there’s a whole world out there that I’m supposed to be
defending! Two worlds, actually! Lorien and Earth need me
and they need you, and I’m holed up in here like an animal
in the zoo and you don’t even care.”
“Of course I care.”
“Of course I care.”
I start to cry. “No you don’t! No you don’t! Maybe you
cared back when you were Odetta and maybe a little when
you were Emmalina; but ever since you’ve been Adelina
and I’ve been Marina, you haven’t cared about me or the
other eight or what we’re supposed to be doing here. I’m
sorry, but I can’t stand you talking to me about salvation
when that’s all I’m trying to achieve. I’m trying to protect us.
I’m trying to do so much good, and you act as if I’m evil or
something!”
Adelina takes a step forward, her arms open for a hug,
but something causes her to retreat and take a step back.
Her shoulders bounce as she starts to cry. My arms
immediately wrap around her and we embrace.
“What’s wrong? Why isn’t Marina in the cafeteria?”
We turn to see Sister Dora with her arms crossed over
her chest. A copper crucifix hangs over her wrists.
“Go,” Adelina whispers. “We’ll talk about this later.”
I wipe my face and rush past Sister Dora. As I leave the
nave I can hear snippets of a heated argument brewing
between Sister Dora and Adelina, their voices echoing off
the vaulted ceiling, and I run my hands through my hair in
hope.
Before sneaking back into the sleeping quarters last
night, I floated the Chest down the narrow dark hallway to
the left of the nave, past the ancient statues cut into the rock
wall. It now sits hidden atop the narrow tower of the north
belfry, secure behind the padlocked oak door. It’s safe
there for the moment; but if I can’t convince Adelina to open
it with me soon, I’ll have to find another location.
Ella is nowhere to be found in the cafeteria, and I worry
that my Legacy has somehow backfired and she’s at the
hospital.
“She’s in Sister Lucia’s office,” a girl says when I ask the
girls at the table nearest the door. “There was a married
couple with her. I think they’re going to adopt her or
something.” She pours a spoonful of soggy eggs onto her
plate. “So lucky.”
My knees buckle, and I catch myself from falling to the
ground by gripping the edge of the table. I have no right to
be so upset at the thought of Ella leaving the orphanage,
but she’s my one friend. Of course I knew she would be on
the Sisters’ short list of adoptable girls; Ella is seven and
sweet and cute and wonderful to be around. I truly hope she
finds a home, especially after losing her parents; but I’m not
ready to let her go, regardless of how selfish it is.
It was determined when Adelina and I arrived that I’d
never be adopted, but I sit there now wondering if it might
have been better if I was eligible. Maybe someone would
have fallen in love with me.
I realize that even if Ella is adopted today, it’ll take some
time for all the paperwork to be reviewed and accepted,
which means she’ll be here a week, maybe two, maybe
three. But it still breaks my heart, and makes me even more
determined to leave this place as soon as I get the Chest
opened.
I slump out of the cafeteria and find my coat, then sneak
through the double doors and march down the hill, not
caring that I’m skipping school. I keep an eye out for the
man with the Pittacus book, staying on the sidewalk behind
the vendors on Calle Principal, bouncing from shadow to
shadow.
As I walk past El Pescador, the village restaurant, I look
down the cobblestone alley and see the lid of a trash can
teeter and then crash to the ground. The trash can itself
begins to quake and wobble, and I hear something
scraping at its insides. A pair of black-and-white paws curl
over the lip of the can. It’s a cat, and when he struggles over
the edge and lands on the alley floor, I see a long gash
running along his right side. An eye is swollen shut. It looks
as though he is about to fall over from exhaustion or
starvation, and he just lies in a pile of trash as if he’s given
up.
“You poor thing,” I say. I know I’m going to heal him
before I take my first step down the alley. He purrs when I
kneel down next to him, and when I place my hand on his fur
there isn’t resistance. The iciness flows quickly from me to
the cat, quicker than it did to Ella or my own cheek, and I
don’t know if the Legacy is getting stronger or if it works
faster on animals. His legs straighten and paws spread
wide, and his breathing picks up until it melts into a loud
purr. I gently turn the cat over to inspect his right side and
see that it’s completely healed and covered with a lush coat
of black fur. The eye that was swollen shut is now open and
looking up at me. I name him Legacy and say, “If you want a
ride out of town, Legacy, then we should talk. Because I
think I’m leaving soon, and I could use the company.”
I’m startled by a figure appearing at the end of the alley,
but it’s just Hector pushing his mother in the wheelchair.
“Ah, Marina of the sea!” he yells.
“Hi, Hector Ricardo.” I walk towards them. His mother
looks slumped and distant, and I worry she’s gotten worse.
“Who is your friend? Hello, little man.” Hector bends
down to scratch Legacy’s chin.
“Just some company I’ve picked up along the way.”
We walk quietly, chatting about the weather and Legacy,
until arriving at Hector and his mother’s front door. “Hector?
Have you seen the man with the mustache and book at the
cafe recently?”
“No, I have not,” he says. “What is it about this man that
bothers you so much?”
I pause. “He just looks like somebody I know.”
“Is that everything?”
“Yes.” He can tell I’m lying but also knows enough not to
pry. I know he’ll be on the lookout for the man I believe is a
Mogadorian; I just hope he doesn’t get hurt.
“It was good to see you, Marina. Remember that today is
a school day.” He winks. I nod sheepishly, and he unlocks
his front door, backing inside, pulling his sick mother along
with him.
The coast is clear over my shoulder and I continue with
my walk for a while, thinking about the Chest, when I will be
able to talk again with Adelina. I also think about John
Smith on the run, Ella and her possible adoption, my fight
last night in the nave. At the end of Calle Principal, I stare at
the school building, hating the front door and the windows,
angry at all the time I’ve spent inside when I should have
been on the move, changing my name with each new
country. I wonder what I would name myself in America.
Legacy meows around my feet as I make my way back
through the village. I am still walking in the shadows,
studying the street blocks ahead of me. I peek inside the
window of the cafe, hoping and not hoping to see the
Mogadorian with the thick mustache. He’s not there, but
Hector already is, and he’s laughing at something the
woman at the next table just said. I’m going to miss Hector
just as much as I’ll miss Ella. I have two friends, not one.
Ducking under the window as I pass, I can’t help but look
down at Legacy’s lush black-and-white fur coat. Less than
an hour ago the cat was lying in an alley, bleeding on a pile
of trash, and now he’s a ball of energy. My ability to heal
and breathe new life into plants and animals and humans is
an enormous responsibility. Fixing Ella made me feel more
special than I ever had before, and it wasn’t because I felt
like a hero, but because I helped someone who needed it. I
slink a few doors down the street and Hector’s laugh travels
through the cafe window and wraps itself around my
shoulders, and I know what I need to do.
The front door is locked, but when I go around to the back
of Hector’s house, the first window I try opens with ease.
Legacy licks his paws as I climb up and through the
window. Jitters attack; I have never broken into someone’s
house before.
The house is small and dark inside, and the air is heavy.
Every foreseeable surface is covered with Catholic
figurines. I find Hector’s mother’s room in no time. She lies
on a twin bed in the far corner, her blankets slowly rising
with each breath. Her legs are twisted at unnatural angles,
and she looks frail. Pill bottles line a small nightstand, along
with rosary beads, a crucifix, a miniature statue of the
Virgin Mary with her hands held in prayer, and ten or so
saints I don’t know the names of. I drop to my knees beside
Carlotta’s sleeping body. Her eyes flutter open and scan
the air. I freeze and hold my breath. I’ve never talked to her
before, though when she finds me crouching beside her, a
glint of recognition registers. She opens her mouth to
speak.
“Shhh,” I say to her. “I’m a friend of Hector’s, Senora
Ricardo. I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m here
to help you.”
She accepts what I have told her with fluttering eyelids. I
reach up and caress the side of her cheek with the back of
my left hand, and then I rest it on her forehead. Her gray hair
is dry and brittle. She closes her eyes.
My heart’s pounding, and I can see a noticeable shake in
my hand when I lift it and place it on her stomach; and it’s
then that I can feel how weak and sick she really is. The
cold tingle crawls up my spine and spreads down my arms
and into the tip of each finger. I grow dizzy. My breathing
quickens, and my heart beats even faster. I begin to sweat
despite the prickly chill turning my skin cold. Carlotta’s eyes
open, and a low groan escapes her open mouth.
I close my eyes. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I say to
comfort the both of us. And then, with the icy chill radiating
from me to her, I begin to pull the sickness away. It retreats
stubbornly, clinging tightly to her insides, reluctant to loosen
its grip; but finally even the stubborn bits let go.
Slight tremors cause Carlotta to convulse and shake, and
I do my best to hold her down. I open my eyes just in time to
see the ashen color of Carlotta’s face change to a pink
glow.
Vertigo sweeps through me. I lift my hands from her body
and fall backwards to the floor. My heart thuds so violently
that it scares me, like it’s about to break free from my body.
But in time it slows, and when I finally pull myself to my feet, I
see Carlotta’s sitting up with a bewildered look, as though
trying to remember where she is and how she’d gotten
here.
I rush into the kitchen and drink three glasses of water.
When I walk back, Carlotta is still gathering her bearings. I
make another quick decision—I go to the nightstand and
rifle through the ten or so pill bottles, finding the label I’m
looking for: WARNING: MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS. I open it, take
four pills, and shove them in my pocket.
“What’s going on?” Carlotta asks. She is frantic. “Where
am I? Who are you?”
I don’t answer her, and instead walk from the room. But
before I leave, I turn and look at Carlotta once more. She’s
watching me with her healed, untwisted legs dangling over
the bed as though she’s about to stand.
I rush out of the house and find Legacy sleeping
underneath the back window. Keeping to the alleys and
side streets, I make my way back to the orphanage with the
cat in my arms, wondering how Hector will react when he
finds his mother cured. The problem, however, is that in a
village this small, secrets don’t last very long. My only hope
is that nobody saw me come or go, and that Carlotta won’t
remember what really happened.
Outside the double doors, I unzip my coat halfway and
carefully place Legacy inside. I know just where I can keep
him safe: up in the north belfry with the Chest. The Chest, I
think. I have to get it open.
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