TWENTY-EIGHT
October couldn't sleep. Her afternoon with Charlie under the first snow had been so magical and romantic, but Mr. Perry had found out about Neil's deceit. And the play was the following day. Each of her steps had led her to that moment, she knew that. She didn't have the ability to stop time, everything had been so normal since she had got there: no special things – apart from the arrival itself – and no hint about superpowers or whatever. Then why, why, why the hell was she there? Was she meant to suffer excruciating grief along with the others in front of the inevitable? She didn't think she could bear another death, again by suicide to boot. The very thought was able to make panic stream through her veins.
She had learned to truly love Neil and each of the Poets. It might have been mere excitement in meeting them at the beginning, but it was nothing like that anymore. That insane joy had become sheer love for them, for their existence as human beings in her life, for the immeasurable gift of their friendship as well as every single moment spent together: the games of Scrabble with Meeks; the long chats about Yale with Pitts; the culinary experiments at the guesthouse with Todd; that time Knox went shopping with her because he wanted to better understand – quote – the female universe; the one she went with Neil to a debate on John Knowles' A Separate Peace just published in England; and the one in which she had convinced a reluctant but clearly distressed Cameron to go together to choose a gift for his mother's birthday. They were her family. She couldn't lose another person she loved. As horrifying memories of her own mother ruthlessly filled her brain, she sat up to drink a glass of water before lying down again, trying to fall asleep.
She didn't know how long her eyes had been closed and her brain knocked out. She just knew she was walking through a thick and white fog at the moment. She could see it, but couldn't perceive it on her skin. The only audible sound was a sort of wind howling, but there was no air around. No temperature. There was not even a material world to be touched. She was walking on nothingness. Or maybe on the thick fog itself. She kept on going tirelessly for miles and miles, without feeling any emotion, almost without wondering about that place. She just knew she was there for a reason.
The haze suddenly thinned out, revealing a minuscule silhouette. The woman in front of her had sparse white hair half-up, half-down in a messy bun and a flowery dress. But her eyes were not faded blue. They were completely blank, bulging and glowing in the darkening fog. October's lips formed a smile, but she didn't feel happy. Tears started to flow down her cheeks because she knew she had to be scared, but she couldn't feel anything. So she just stayed there, contemplating the old lady through her blurry vision.
Emotions.
"Don't be afraid" the lady spoke, but her mouth didn't move an inch. The sound echoed all around, as if from a great distance. "You know why you're here."
"I don't" October argued, her cheeks still wet although her countenance showed no sign of dismay.
Fight. Win them back.
"For one coming, there's one going. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be."
She knew that line...
Knowledge.
"What do you mean?"
"There's no order without balance. Every excess leads to a lack and every lack to an excess. The appearance of energy in a place causes the same amount of energy to disappear in some other place. The Universe must keep its balance."
October's heart was hammering wildly in her chest.
Understanding.
"Am I the energy disappeared? Is that why I have to leave? Do I have to get back to where I belong?"
Someone... Someone she would never see again...
Heartbreak.
"The beauty of the world has two edges: one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder."
She gulped.
Confusion.
"Vir-Virginia Woolf...?"
"Everything has its price, child. Keep the balance of the Universe."
Frustration.
"I don't know how to do that!"
But the lady was done. Her weird eyes literally melted out of her orbits, a white fluid oozed out of her mouth and nostrils and ears, then her whole body liquefied into a pool before dissolving into the void.
Horror.
October screamed at the top of her lungs. When she stopped, she was panting in her bed, surrounded by the same walls and furniture of the last months. She rushed to lock the door and back to drink more water, her heart pounding, her hair and nightgown stuck to her sweaty skin. She closed her eyes, a hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the nightmare away. But as soon as she put the glass back on the nightstand and heard the sound of it on the wood, the understanding of it all skewered her like a sword. Suddenly, everything made sense. She brought a hand to her mouth, goggling, gasping, realizing she had little time to come up with something, fearing she could fail and then bear the consequences. But she had at least to try.
She hurtled to the desk, pulled a sheet of paper and the pen towards her, and began to frantically write.
Neil brushed his fingers across the pajamas on his bed, as if he was another self outside of his body. He was numb. Everything inside was already dead. He took his shirt off and opened the window, wearing his crown for the last time. He let the cool air pervade his nostrils and lungs. His senses were clouded. He closed his eyes, feeling the peace, the silence, the beauty. He bowed to Death. He slowly climbed down the stairs to his father's study, a small silver key clenched in one hand and a tiny folded slip of paper in the other. He unlocked a drawer and pulled out the handgun, wrapped up in its cloth. He wished he had time to explain everything to his father. To thank Keating. To say goodbye to his friends. To hug Todd. But he didn't have that time. He decided to spend the last minutes left between one life and the other revealing whatever October had pushed into his palm until sharp corners had pierced his skin.
Neil,
There's no time, I know that. I also know where you are now and what you're thinking about – or at least I hope you're still thinking, because otherwise it means you chose to ignore this message and I lost any opportunity. What you must know is that there's always another way. Do you understand what I mean? The definition of way can be related to actions, to qualities, to routes. Take all the definitions and seep them into your brain. Action, quality, route. Do, be, go. There's another way to win. There's another way to be free. Life's not only a cage, what you have now is not the only path, you don't have to think that ending it all is the only solution. There's always another way. Can you get me? Always. Another. Way.
Tobie
By the time his pupils ended on the signature, Neil was shaking uncontrollably, his composure cracking all over, letting his horror spill out. He fell on the floor and remained in the fetal position for a while, trying to stop trembling and crying. When he was able to stand up again, he turned the note and found a map. There were the woods, there was the cave, there was the stream. And there was a big X somewhere in between.
"Neil! You're alive! You came!"
She ran to him, hugging him tightly, crying and sobbing like a baby.
"I can't believe we did this, I can't believe we did this..." she repeated over and over to an overall confused boy, her hand half in her mouth in an attempt to stop wailing.
"Tobie, how did you know?"
"It doesn't matter" she cut him off, sniffing and brushing her face vigorously. "What did you do? How did you leave your house?"
"I broke a window, stole my father's handgun and staged some sort of death far from home. I cut my arm to leave some blood behind. They can follow the trail, they will find the pistol, but not me. I even walked on beaten track so as not to leave footprints in the snow. And I left a note, so that they are sure about my intention. But this is not important now. What's going on?"
She shook her head.
"Listen, I can't tell you everything because you won't believe me, plus we don't have any time. I guess we don't, at least. I don't really know."
She cast a feverish glance all around before bringing her attention back to the bewildered boy in front of her, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards her.
"I'm not from here. I shouldn't be here. I don't really belong here."
"O-kay... But what does that have to do with me?"
"Maybe now I do, now I belong here, because I found something I didn't have before. Can you understand?"
Neil frowned.
"Are you talking about Charlie?"
"Not only him. Never mind. The point is that you don't have what you want here. So maybe it's you who don't belong here. Not me. I'm not the one who has to go. But someone has to. For balance. You have to."
Neil just stared at her, more puzzled than ever.
"Tobie, with all due respect, I can't understand what you're trying to say. Where am I supposed to go instead of you?"
She beamed. He was keeping up.
"To my world."
"What?!"
"Just tell me one thing. You were ready to die. So the answer should be yes, but I need to be sure. Are you ready to leave everything you have here, including your friends, for another life? New friends, new places, nobody to tell you what to do and maybe the career and future you've always dreamed of? But there will be no coming back. It's a one-way ticket. And it means I won't be able to go as well. Are you ready to do this?"
"Sorry, I..."
"Neil, please!" She shook him. "Do you think you can do this? Leave this world and go to mine? It's all you need to know. I'm not crazy. Look at me."
They locked their eyes. Neil didn't find any trace of falsehood. He clenched his jaw and squared up.
"You just saved my life. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and this means believing you now. So yes, I can do it. I'm ready. Carpe diem. What do I have to do?"
She smiled in between a new wave of tears.
"Nothing. I guess your acceptance is the key."
As if that was the cue, a strong wind suddenly picked up, wrapping them both. They look at each other.
"Yes! It's working!"
Neil cast a glance around in alarm.
"What's happening?"
"Balance is happening. Don't be afraid."
Neil swallowed, forcing himself to keep calm and ignoring the questions shoving each other on the tip of his tongue.
"So... This is a solution, right? A second chance. You're giving me an escape hatch, aren't you? And I'll be fine?"
"Fine and free, Puck" she said with a smile that mirrored on the boy's face.
"Thanks, Tobie. I have not enough words to..."
"No need. I have to thank you."
The wind made their clothes billow. They took each other's hands.
"Is it true that I'll never meet you all again?"
"I'm afraid it is, honey. I don't like it any more than you do. But maybe there's a way. We will see. And don't panic. Where you're going is different, but you can deal with it. Be strong. Oh, and change your name. Some people will recognize you. You'll look like someone else. Just say it's an incredible resemblance."
Neil furrowed his brow.
"What are you talking about? How can that be possible?"
"You'll understand, I promise. Never give up. And remember: there's always a way... However unbelievable it may seem."
The wind was so powerful at that point to make them shift. They hugged each other.
"Please, tell them I love them. I love them all. With all my heart. Tell them. Especially Todd."
"I will, honey."
"Promise me you'll stand by him. Forever. And you'll give Charlie every single drop of love he deserves."
She grimaced in poignancy, distinctly perceiving that last sentence etch in her soul indelibly.
"Y-you have my word" she sobbed.
The wind shoved them down, howling in their ears, making it impossible to talk and listen. They fell on their knees, still in each other's arms. Suddenly, a blinding light engulfed them, forcing them to close their eyes. They just waited there, both hoping that was the way, her hoping she had read into the dream correctly, him hoping they wouldn't die, not at that point, when he so desperately wanted to live.
"Tobie!" Neil screamed.
She tried to say something, but she couldn't. All of a sudden, she felt like a load had been lifted. When she opened her eyes in the abrupt still of the night, Neil was gone.
A/N: Here we are! I know, I know, it's a weird chapter, but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out and you have no idea how much I like it!
FYI, A Separate Peace is a coming-of-age novel by John Knowles, first published in London in 1959 and in New York the next year. It's unlikely that, back then, a newly printed book (or similar) could be instantaneously promoted all over the world, but I like to think it could be possible to have almost-real-time notions of it at least – hence, the idea of a debate. (Plus, in my opinion, this novel's plot – check it out! – is so perfectly fitting, I just couldn't dismiss the image of Neil longing to read it.)
While I'm there, I'll inform you that I managed to edit the whole work, fixing grammar, syntax, too uncommon words for the period, fluidity and some details here and there. You can ignore the notifications, unless you want to re-read it all :D
Stay tuned folks, we're about to unveil October's secret! It's your last chance to guess it right!