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Three.
Leo tugged at his black tie, loosening its desperate cling around his throat. He knew the evening was still too young for him to start complaining about the things that discomforted him. It wasn't that he could not and would not in a heartbeat; it was that he could not and would not because his family had just started relaxing a bit more, truly enjoying their night.
When he looked up, he saw his mother swaying gracefully to the soft hums of the instruments playing somewhere not far, her eyes lost in his stepfather's eyes. In the middle of the dance floor, even amongst numerous couples, young and old alike, she stood out. It wasn't because of her beauty or the importance she seemed to have easily earned as the CEO's wife, but it was her evening dress. The subtle shine of the silver sown on it absorbed much of the little illumination the dining hall offered and reflected it powerfully, giving her the appearance of a star.
His stepfather twirled his mother around at that moment, causing her to shriek softly then laugh. Suddenly, he was reminded of the sun.
The sun dancing with a star.
Glancing around the room, he was given more reason to believe his observation. Attendees had unknowingly divided into separate clusters everywhere, and with their white shirts and colorful dresses contrasting against the dark walls and darker blue carpeting on the floor, they took the forms of constellations. Many constellations, two of which included each of his brothers.
At a far corner, a small group of younger girls, daughters of the other employees, huddled together, and the flashing lights from their cameras occasionally sent a beat through the expanse. The dim glow from their phones, meanwhile, barely lit their masked faces, but the composite energy was enough to create the illusion of a half-ring around their table.
As the music continued to play and the flicker of the earth-shaped prisms on the lights above brightened the room, Leo couldn't help but feel as if he was a spectator. As if he was an onlooker watching the universe come together, expand, shift, and dance in a mess of colors that followed a certain order as time went on.
Time that, if the letter was true to its words, he didn't have.
Yet, he knew he could not insist on taking this moment away from his family. He couldn't.
He wouldn't.
A sigh interrupted Leo's thoughts, and it surprised him how he had subconsciously kept track of how many times that sigh had escaped the same person. Seven. Seven times she had sighed. "A little louder, Bree," he said. "Massachusetts didn't hear you."
Bree glared at him from where she sat, three seats down to his right, almost a quarter of a way around the table. "This is so lame," she complained. "I don't understand why I couldn't invite Owen and Caitlin. I would be having a better time if they're here."
"I doubt that. Owen would have spent all night misinterpreting the masquerade theme as a symbol of pretention in the corporate world, and Caitlin, well…she's just too crazy."
"She is not," Bree responded defensively. "And he wouldn't. Okay? He actually likes things like these."
"Well, then, invite him over now," Leo said. "Some of the guests already split, and I'm sure that if you ask Mom, she'll find a way to let Big D let your boyfriend in."
"I wish I could," Bree said, "but it would be too last minute. It's almost eleven, and I don't think his mom would let him get out of the house this late." She frowned towards the centerpieces, the knuckle where her cheek rested slightly deconstructing the expression. "Plus, Dad said we should keep our eye on you. We can't take any chances." She sighed. "Adam already took his turn, so now it's mine."
Eight, Leo counted before her last words registered to him. He swiveled around on his seat to face the dance floor fully. He didn't hold Bree's complaints of boredom against her mostly because he understood. Just to quench his, he had been silently playing a game his father taught him when he was little, when he admitted to his parents his weakness when it comes to numbers. He had been adding, subtracting, and multiplying all of the numbers he spotted around the room to, from, and with each other.
From his last count, everything amounted to a figure of twenty-six thousand, five hundred and four.
A human calculator. Maybe I am bionic.
Still, it stung to hear that his siblings had been secretly taking turns in watching over him. That one of them felt forced to do it added salt to the injury. "I'm not three," he said neutrally. "I can take care of myself."
"How?" Bree asked.
Leo shrugged. "I'll figure it out," he said nonchalantly.
Bree easily recognized his disguised tone as an effect of her less-than-enthusiastic comment. Guiltily, she said, "Hey. I know you can. But come on, Leo. Humor us. If you were in our shoes, wouldn't you be overprotective, too?"
Leo turned around, his lips parting for a response. However, before he could speak, a sandy-haired waiter lowered down a glass of strawberry milkshake between them. He reached out for it after the waiter left.
Before he could touch the glass, Bree snatched it away. She smiled warmly. "How do you think I'd take it if something happens to you, Chump?" she asked.
"With the strawberry milkshake I specifically requested?" Leo answered sardonically. He made another attempt to get his beverage back, but Bree had already started drinking it.
He blew a breath in surrender.
When she was halfway finished, Bree suddenly looked down at the phone on her lap. "Oh, I gotta take this call," she said, her bright eyes focused on the name on the screen. "You mind if I leave? I'll just be out the hallway. I'll be very quick."
"Not too quick," Leo deadpanned. "There's too many people in here."
Bree rolled her eyes as she stood up, grinning when she got the joke. "Don't leave the table until I come back." On the way out, she weaved through the mass of people that stood in her way.
Soon, she was gone.
Leo turned his attention back to the room. He noticed how everything moved much more languidly at that instance than earlier. He suspected it was more than the mellow tune that forced the certain lull in the moment. He supposed it was the lateness of the evening. It made him wonder if it would be the proper to ask his mother if they could go home. He was exhausted, and he wanted to get as much sleep as possible before he began a new day in a few hours.
While scanning the room, he caught sight of Chase holding a quiet conversation with a small number of girls. He was grinning, but a thin veil of uneasiness underlay it. He didn't blame him. His brother had been under the mercy of the same teenage girls since the word spread that he was one of the company owner's son. Adam had been continuously showered by the same affection by other flocks of girls, though he strongly doubted his older brother had connected the dots yet why he and Chase were suddenly the kings of the night.
It was ironic how most of these girls belonged to employees who not too long ago called his mother a gold digger behind their boss' back.
Leo shook his head. He wondered if it would be too unkindly if he walked up to both groups and tell his brothers how the parents of their admirers viewed their own mother.
A blur clouding his periphery caused Leo to lift his eyes up. He was met with the sight of a girl dressed in a white ball gown. She was of medium build, not too slender. Locks of blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, highlighting the visually striking slopes. Besides the white watch wrapped around her wrist, no other jewelries adorned her. Not that she needed any; her deep blue eyes and the ghost of a curl on her rosy lips were enough to attract attention. Even the steel mask that hid the rest of her features couldn't contain what he perceived as grace.
"Won't you dance with me," she said to him rather than ask, but she spoke so softly, though still sternly, that he couldn't find it within reason to take offense.
Leo opened his mouth to talk. "Oh, I…" he said, and then glanced towards the exit where Bree had gone before turning back to her. "I mean, thanks. I appreciate the invite, but I kind of have to watch over my sister's—"
"You only have three more days, Leo Dooley," she said. "Surely you can bestow me the honor of having this last dance with you?"
A wrinkle drew together Leo's eyebrows. Apprehension rushed through him when he realized that the masked stranger in front of him concealed more than her identity. It made him extremely uncomfortable to feel her eyes piercing through his thoughts. It left him feeling exposed. He felt inclined to come to his family for help, but something about her rendered him contrary to the idea. "Who are you?" he asked instead.
The girl said nothing. She waited patiently, the smile illuminating her face unmoving.
Leo slowly stood up, not taking his eyes off her. He held out a hand in front of him. Her lips stretched out farther when she took it. He led her to the dance floor, towards the deep end of the ocean of people, where they could be alone.
They waltzed in silence, neither saying anything to the other for a while. They moved fluently, undisturbed by the presence of others surrounding them. The odd feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of wariness yet security, puzzled Leo. After twirling her around, which he suspected might have appeared odd to onlookers now that he noticed that she was a few inches taller than him, he began asking, "How'd you know?"
"About which?" she asked, willfully following the move of his feet.
"Who I am. About the letter," Leo answered.
"I know you through your actions, Leo Dooley," she said. "I know you because of what you are."
Leo frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're asking for an answer that you can find within yourself," she said. "You are smart. You can figure it out."
"Is that why you sent the letter?" Leo accused quietly. "Are you Jessi?"
"Names are just a social convenience. A convenience which I don't let myself or others afford."
"Okay, I'm gonna need you to stop talking like a dictionary," Leo blurted out of irritation. "I don't think you understand what's happening here. This is my life we're talking about, and I need to know. Can't you at least spare me the 'convenience' or whatever you want to call it to tell me who in the world you are?"
The tiniest of smirks appeared on her face. "I'm not saying I can't do it, I'm not saying you can't have it," she said, staring straight into his eyes. "All I'm saying is that you don't deserve it."
Leo's jaws locked. He had to look away. He recognized that the dead end answers were filling him with anger to the brim, and he had to contain his emotions before it spilled over. There was no use feeding more fuel to the fire; his father taught him that. As much as he would like to confront the mysterious person he danced with, he knew it would not be wise especially in his current temperament.
Plus, her answers seemed to have kindled his curiosity. His instincts told him that she did not deflect the questions merely out of pure superciliousness, but she aspired to move him to think, answering him without saying the words out loud.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw that Bree had already come back to her seat. He caught sight of her just when she was slumping towards the table, her right arm stretched out, her left arm serving as a pillow underneath her head. She didn't bother searching for him, so he supposed she had already seen him and had decided instead to express her boredom.
Leo looked back to the girl in front of him. She seemed to have been distracted by the same thing that caught his attention. Nonetheless, when her eyes rested back at his, she smiled warmly. "What is it that you want then?" Leo asked calmly.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter what I want," she said. "If I were you, however—I will be very brave. You need to be, especially in the days that are to come."
Leo's brows softly knitted.
"There is a certain sequence in nature, Leo Dooley. We at times find ourselves in it and out of it," she said. The music then stopped, cuing an interlude of applause. She suddenly leaned forward and then kissed him on the cheek. She smiled. "You will find me within it. If you look hard enough."
For Leo, the placidness momentarily surrounding them felt as if it lasted forever. Maybe it did, and they had been standing there for such a long time, in the space between spaces, a question facing another question. That is, until one of them fades out, like a light that the galaxy could not hold anymore.
The watch on her wrist glowed blue, calling both of their attentions. Suddenly, its ticking sounded louder. She glanced at it, and for the first time that night Leo heard her chuckle. She angled her hand so he could see the face. A Davenport watch. 11:28 PM, the time read. "He really has a strong hold on you. Doesn't he?" she asked.
After gracing him with one last smile, the girl in white walked away from him. The trail of her dress waved as she sauntered out, sending a beautiful ripple to disturb the peaceful image of the universe. She was a swan who had passed by, her blue eyes shining bright even if she had already vanished within the shadows of theoretical existence, to give him warning against the hands of time that threatened to submerge him to the same dark place.
A few minutes into a lively new song that beckoned all the younger ones to come forward, Leo became aware of his surroundings. He pushed past the mass of bodies that jumped and shouted recklessly along the beat of the music that pounded even through his ribs as he made his way back to the table. There, he found his sister, still at her place but now sitting up. She slouched weakly forward, her right forearm around her stomach.
He debated whether to tell her what happened. His family deserved to know, and it would be a betrayal of trust if he didn't inform them of the things he was told. Especially Bree, who was the first of them to express why the letter really bothered them.
Leo pulled his chair around to talk to her. However, before he could speak, he noticed through the dim lighting how ashen his sister was. Beads of sweat formed on her temple and around her neck, and her lips seemed to be turning blue. He anxiously rushed to the seat beside her. "Bree, are you okay?" he almost had to yell.
Bree lifted her eyes up at him, exhaustion marring her features. "I don't feel so good, Leo," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leo frowned. "What do y—"
Dizziness overpowered Bree, causing her to fall forward. Leo caught her in time, but the space between them pulled them out of their chairs. The silverwares fell on the floor with a violent clink. "Bree!" Leo called out to her, seeing how her eyes were beginning to lose focus. He tried to sit her up against him, but her head lolled whichever way.
Then, Bree threw up, some of it spilling against his shirt and tie.
Fear overpowered any disgust. Bree had completely lost consciousness. He knew what would happen next, and it scared him.
He lowered her on the floor and turned her sideways. When she was positioned properly, he crawled some distance away from behind the table, just enough to be seen by the rest of their family who was still lost within the crowd. "Mom!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his right hand not leaving Bree's shoulder. "Mom!"
A few people who heard him looked towards his direction, one of whom was Adam. The big grin on his face vanished when he saw the fear and alarm in Leo's eyes. He sprinted towards his direction, Chase following a second behind him, and soon found the situation Bree was in. "Oh, man—Bree!" He kneeled beside his sister then picked her up.
"Turn her sideways. She's going to throw up again, and she might choke on it," Leo said as he stood up with Adam.
Chase came forward and loosened Bree's mask to give her room to breathe as Adam fastened his arms around her.
"What happened?" Tasha asked manically as she and Donald arrived, both peering upon their children worriedly.
"I think she's poisoned," Leo answered.
"Poison? From where? How?" Chase asked.
"I don't…I don't know," Leo muttered, watching as Bree withered away.
"Come on, guys," Donald ushered all of them forward. "Let's go. We have to get home, now. Go to the car. Go, go."
They exited the dining hall swiftly, leaving behind a crowd of confused and concerned guests. Donald took Adam, Bree and Leo with him to ride the speedster, while Tasha and Chase rode together in a separate car. The travel back to their house was a blur. It didn't take long for Donald to reach the house, but even with their short travel Bree was not able to wait before retching again.
Rushing to the lab, Donald gave Adam orders on where to put Bree and what to do. Leo eagerly followed them to assist, but Donald stopped him before they could enter. "Go upstairs and get dressed," he told him.
"But I'm fine," Leo protested.
"No. Go upstairs, get dressed. I'll let you know when you can see her."
Leo wanted to insist being let in the lab, but Donald had already gone in and shut the door before he could do so. For a moment, he stared at the door, just underneath the three red rings that had been so familiar to him. The image of Adam straightening Bree into a table, her lips bluer under the lights, latched itself on his mind. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time he would see his sister alive.
He slowly made his way up to his room, his thoughts surprisingly stagnant. When he came in, he swiped his hands across a metal pad on the wall, causing a light to turn on. He drew out a clean shirt from his dresser drawer then headed to the bathroom. There, he moved in partial darkness. He peeled off his jacket and let it fall on the floor with a soft thud. He carefully unknotted his tie before taking off his shirt and the t-shirt underneath. He grabbed a hand towel then soaked it with warm water and soap so he could clean up.
He wondered how something like a poison could have eluded their notice. His notice. He tried to recall all the food on Bree's plate, including the small portions of sweets both of them picked up and ate. None of them seemed harmful. With the exception of one or two items that he had, they consumed the same things. If it was any of those, shouldn't he and the others have been sick, too? There was a possibility that she came in contact with it while she stepped out to take that phone call, but there were other people standing out in the hallway with her. As far as he was concerned, no food or drink was served out, and Bree wouldn't have taken anything from a stranger. Their parents made sure they understood that they shouldn't do something stupid like that a long time ago.
What was it then?
He closed his eyes. Think. Flickers of moments came up: their conversation, the phone call, the girl in white, the dance, the kiss, the table.
Red. There was something faintly red sitting on the table, and it was the only thing that Bree had that he had not.
The strawberry milkshake—and it was meant to be for him.
Leo opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror. Red; he was seeing it again. But it was not on a drink this time. He hastily turned on the lights to make sure he wasn't imagining it. When he saw it, he wished he could undo what he did.
1 1 2
11 9
4 7 5
10 9
Number's up,
Leo Dooley
It was written all across the mirror, in the same red that colored the smudged memory of a kiss on his cheek.
to be continued.
