The Suburban Strange (39 page)

“Is that your motto?”

“I don’t know. Regine said it once, and it made sense.”

“You guys always look so elegant.”

“That was prom. They’re all amazing people, so intelligent, and talented, and cultured. I’ve learned so much from them.”

Tomasi took her hand and studied it as if it were a piece of coral he had found on the beach. “I was scared you wouldn’t like me. I’m not very good at talking, and saying the right things, and being polite.”

“I don’t know what the right things are anyway,” Celia said. “There might be right and wrong, but most of the time life is somewhere in between.”

“That sounds true,” he said.

They were quiet for a moment. “Do you think about having sex with me?” she asked him, and felt her cheeks flush. She had lost count of the number of times she had blushed in front of Tomasi, but this time she had the new sensation of enjoying her embarrassment.

He stared at her. “Is that a trick question?”

“I didn’t mean it to be. I’ve spent months thinking about having sex, talking about having sex, even turning down offers to have sex, because of that whole stupid curse thing. Right before my birthday, I wondered if I should do it. It didn’t seem unreasonable, considering everything that was happening. But you were the only person I would have asked, and I didn’t know where you were.”

“How do you feel about it now?”

Celia thought for a moment. “When I first saw you standing on the other side of the dance floor, you scared me a little. It was like an electric current running through me, just knowing you were looking. Even when we had cider, that night when your dad caught us, I was still nervous around you. That’s why I didn’t want to go to the park.”

“I figured that. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I wouldn’t.” His gray eyes looked like watercolors.

“I know. Now every time I see you, I still feel like there’s an electric current running through me, but it’s not fear. It’s strong, and maybe it’s a little dangerous, but I’m not afraid of it. Being close to you doesn’t feel like getting electrocuted. It’s more like being recharged.”

As if to illustrate, Tomasi lightly touched his fingertip to the inside of her wrist and slid it lightly to the crook of her elbow. The tingle continued up her arm and shivered in her back. A spark returned to his eyes. “That sounds like a good feeling.”

“So, do you?”

“Of course I do.” He grinned, embarrassed, too. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”

“Everything that’s happened—it’s made me realize things can change at any time. I don’t want to wait for my life to happen. I don’t have that kind of time.” Celia looked plainly at him.

“I like that,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s wise for you to jump on me right now. Your mother is still awake.”

“How do you know?”

“She went up to her room, and she’s reading a book, something about Ophelia. I can feel the pages turning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I come back tomorrow night?” Tomasi raised her hand and pressed his lips to her palm and then the inside of her wrist.

“Please do,” she said.

“Okay.” He kissed her and started to get up.

“Don’t you want to stay?”

“Of course I want to stay!” he groaned. “But if Grandpa finds me missing from my room, or if your mom walks in on you again . . .”

“You’re right,” Celia sighed.

“But I do. In the worst way.” He held his lips to hers for a long moment, then stood up and looked down at her.

“Write me when you get back, so I know you’re safe,” she said.

“Sure.” Tomasi turned toward the wall, first darkening into a shadow and then sliding back into her sketchbook before appearing as a face on the page. He blew her a final, two-dimensional kiss.

I’m back. You’re beautiful. Good night.

Good night.
Celia got up with her sketchbook and laid it on her desk, still open to Tomasi’s page.

In the bathroom she washed her face and brushed her hair, and then she regarded herself in the mirror. “I am an Ambassador. I am tired.” She brushed her teeth and went back to her room.

She curled up on her bed. Outside her window the moon was a tranquil white, the white of chalk and of bones that have been bleached by ocean water. There was a song she wanted to hear, so she got up again and thumbed through her CDs. As she shed her clothes and crawled into bed, a soft, strange song wafted through the room, like a transmission from the Arctic Circle. Against a quiet, steady drumbeat, the Sisters of Mercy sang quietly about what it felt like to be one of the chosen, one of the few to be sure, and about snow coming down like a curtain outside a car window. She closed her eyes and wondered what the summer would bring.

Author's Note

A
S BRENDEN SAYS
, “Everything is better with the right soundtrack.” Each of the chapter titles in this book is the name of a real album, an example of the dark alternative music Celia discovers as her story is told. I encourage you to seek these treasures out, along with the other music, literature, and art scattered throughout this story. Nothing would please me more than for you to love these works even half as much as I do.

Acknowledgments

To Zoe Shacham, who made me into a published author and then broke my heart! You were my dream come true as an agent, and I am so happy we found each other. I wish you the best, and I will be forever grateful for all you did to make this dream a reality.

To everyone else at Nancy Yost Literary Agency, especially Nancy Yost and Adrienne Rosado, who shepherded this project through to completion—it has been such a pleasure getting to know you, and I am so appreciative of all your efforts on my behalf.

To Margaret Raymo—thank you so much for taking this first-time author to the dance! You and the brilliant team at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt have coaxed a better novel out of me than I knew I had, and dressed it up so beautifully, I barely can believe it’s mine. This has been a fantastic experience, even when you were gently pointing out that there are not, in fact, seven weeks in October . . .

To all the musicians, authors, artists, and designers to whom I pay tribute in this book: You’ve enriched my life and inspired me to be my own creative person. I only hope I am introducing you to many others who will find you just as transformative and inspiring.

To my own Rosary, a now lengthy string of beautiful friendships from high school and beyond, which have sustained and expanded me—thank you for sharing my love of darkly beautiful things; your spirit and style are on every page of this book. You number too many to list here, but there are a few beads I must count:

To Alli Cooke, from the latest decade, who was Celia’s first champion and an invaluable reviewer of this manuscript every time I dared to ask—all of the thanks!

To Lisa Schieler Blackman, from the high school decade, who knows perhaps better than anyone how autobiographical this novel is, in a fun-house mirror sort of way—this book is just the latest in a shoebox’s worth of mix tapes, as far as we’re concerned.

To Mr. Gates, from his own decade, who lives and breathes his aesthetic more deeply than I could ever hope to, and who has figured out how to make me look passably human in photographs—I want to see the world the way you do.

And to Andrea Gangloff Klores, from all the decades, who has watched my creative impulse thrash about in so many directions for more years than either of us will admit, and who elevates friendship to an art form all its own—may we never come down to earth again!

Finally, to my parents, who have never wavered in their support for me, and who I believe answer my phone calls with the unspoken, loving question “What have you done now?”—I hope you know how much you mean to me.

Credits

Love Is a Stranger

Words and Music by Annie Lennox and David Stewart

Copyright © 1983 by Logo Songs Ltd. and Astwood Music Ltd.

All Rights in the United States and Canada Administered by Universal Music–Careers

International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved

Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

A Forest

Words and Music by Robert Smith, Laurence Tolhurst, Simon Gallup, and Matthieu Hartley
Copyright © 1981 by Fiction Songs Ltd.
All Rights for the world Administered by Universal Music Publishing MGB Ltd.
All Rights for the U.S. Administered by Universal Music–MGB Songs.
International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved
Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

Second Skin

Words and Music by David Fielding, Mark Burgess, Reginald Smithies, and John Lever
© 1983 EMI VIRGIN MUSIC LTD.
All Rights in the United States and Canada Controlled and Administered by EMI VIRGIN SONGS, INC.
All Rights Reserved International Copyright Secured Used by Permission
Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

Celia

Words and Music by Martha David
Copyright © 1979 (Renewed) BMG Rights Management (Ireland) Ltd. (IMRO)
All Rights Administered by Chrysalis One Songs (BMI)
All Rights Reserved Used by Permission
Reprinted by permission of Alfred Publishing

Crucify

Words and Music by Tori Amos
Copyright © Atlantic Recording Corporation
All Rights Administered by Sword & Stone Publishing
All Rights Reserved Used by Permission
Reprinted by permission of Sword & Stone Publishing

Coming in Fall 2013

PULL DOWN THE NIGHT

BOOK TWO IN THE SUBURBAN STRANGE SERIES

Another year at Suburban High School, and another stranger arrives—Kind or Unkind remains to be seen. Every corner of the school conceals a secret, and every answer poses another question:

If you found a hidden clearing behind your house with the
power to transport you across town, would you use it?

If you were given a ghostly note with the place and time to
catch your boyfriend cheating on you, would you go?

If you received an admonition instructing you to do the one
thing you'd sworn never to do, would you reconsider?

Who is Bruno Perilunas, and will he and Celia find the answers fast enough to survive the year at Suburban? Death has been promised, but everything can change with the stroke of a pen, the discovery of a book, or a step on a secret staircase.

About the Author

N
ATHAN KOTECKI
lives in Durham, North Carolina. This is his first young adult novel.