Grey

Really good.

This was going to be embarrassing.

When they finished, Ms Lucian – who was seated in the second row – thanked them for their efforts. Katie spotted me as they exited, and she waved encouragingly. Avery punched me across the shoulder. I didn’t see Mitchell, but that was okay.

I would kill him later.

While Ms Lucian wrote in her notebook, a strained quiet enveloped the room. The anticipation felt like a vice cranking against my lungs, each moment increasing the pressure. It squeezed drops of sweat from my forehead, dampening my hair inside my hood. It was just a stupid audition. It wasn’t as if I was delivering a speech to the United Nations. Why were my hands shaking so much? Finally, Ms Lucian lifted her head and addressed the auditorium.

‘Josephine Romany.’

I craned my neck to see, though I really didn’t know who I was looking for. All I knew was her voice; the sweet, exotic smell of her perfume. And the awful, wonderful, twisting of my stomach as it made sailor knots beneath my T-shirt.

And then, I knew. My anxiety had nothing to do with the audition. I was nervous about her. Near the front, a girl rose and made her way down the aisle; movements fluid and smooth, like a professional artist. I braced myself against the seat as Josephine seemed to float up the stairs, out of the darkness and into the light.

Beautiful just didn’t cut it. The Bard himself would’ve stabbed me with his quill for my lack of words, but nothing seemed to fit her. She wasn’t fashion magazine beautiful, like the cheerleaders who sat in front of me in science with their dress-code-breaking skirts that made it hard to concentrate. Josephine Romany was something else, something outside of Sixes; from some other place and time.

Her full lips didn’t need lipstick, and the way she smiled made her whole face glow. She looked out over the audience, tucking a strand of hair the color of hazelnut coffee behind her ear. Thick brows lifted over the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen: large and luminously green. The glow of stage lights clung to her tanned skin.

As she stood waiting for instructions, the air around me hummed. It was the same electricity I’d experienced at the call-board, and it reminded me of the way I’d felt when Hugo had given me my tattoo – weirdly uncomfortable and alarmingly pleasant – all at the same time. I stared at her, fascinated, unable to look away.

‘Sebastian Grey.’

Ms Lucian peered into the audience, and I was horrified to realize she was searching for me. This was it. I had to go stand up there with this new girl who was doing all kinds of unexplained things to my insides. I stumbled out of my seat, head numb and legs wobbling as though I’d never used them before. I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure as I walked with heavy steps to my own funeral.

‘Break a leg, man,’ Brandon whispered as I passed.

A script was slapped into my hands and, suddenly, I found myself next to Josephine Romany. I felt euphorically sick.

‘Hello again, Sebastian,’ she said.

I wanted to make eye contact; to actually look into her face for the first time instead of just seeing her from afar, but I also wanted to remain upright and coherent, so I merely nodded in her direction. ‘Hey.’

Ms Lucian rapped her pencil against her notebook, demanding our attention. ‘All right, I want you both to turn to page sixteen.’ She waited while we found our places. ‘Josephine, if you would read for Hermia, and Sebastian, please read for Lysander.’

I’d read A Midsummer Night’s Dream more than once, and I knew that Lysander was one of the romantic leads. This was going to be terrible. The words swirled on the page. Just don’t pass out, I pleaded to myself.

‘Sebastian, are you all right?’ Ms Lucian studied my face carefully. ‘You don’t look as though you’re feeling well.’

I planted my feet, determined to see this through. ‘I’m good.’

‘All right then, let’s begin.’

Josephine had the first line. ‘Be it so, Lysander,’ she read in a low, clear voice. ‘Find you out a bed; for I upon this bank will rest my head.’

‘One turf shall serve as pillow for us both,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘One heart, one bed; two bosoms, and one troth.’

Somewhere, Shakespeare had to be laughing.

I was no Avery, but I survived the audition by keeping my head firmly buried in the script and my thoughts glued to the words on the page. I had never been happier than when Ms Lucian interrupted and thanked us. Josephine left the stage first, and I followed, my legs still feeling like liquefied jelly.

Josephine glided ahead of me in the aisle, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she walked, carefree and obviously unaffected by what had been fifteen of the most gut-wrenching minutes of my life. I felt more confused than ever. My palms were sweaty, my brain was gooey, and I had all the coordination of a two-year-old. What was going on with me? Auditions were over, and I’d seen the elusive Josephine Romany.

The mystery was over.

So why did I still feel so weird?

Everyone had gathered in the lobby. Katie whirled and clutched Josephine’s arm as soon as we appeared. I hovered near the door, still feeling like an idiot, but unable to take my eyes off the new girl. I rubbed at my wrist, which was throbbing to the beat of my pulse.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Katie cooed. ‘You were so good! You’re totally going to get Titania!’

‘You were great too,’ Josephine replied cheerfully.

‘That was a lot harder than I thought it would be,’ Katie went on, barely drawing a breath. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t wet myself right there.’

Brandon jumped in. ‘Aw, you were great, Katie. You too, Josephine.’ He spotted me. ‘And you were pretty decent, I guess.’

They all looked at me then, and I smiled, fully aware that Josephine was watching as well, even though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze. ‘Thanks for the encouragement, Brandon.’

‘Ah, it was good for you, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Who knows? Maybe Ms Lucian will take pity and actually give you a part.’

‘Stranger things have happened,’ I replied.

Josephine was still looking at me, and I knew I should’ve said something to her, but what would’ve made sense? I couldn’t reverse time, and I was pretty sure I’d destroyed my first impression. I wanted to melt into the lobby’s concrete wall.

Katie saved me from any further embarrassment by pulling her away from the group. ‘Well, we’ll see you guys later. We’re heading to the mall.’

I watched them go, feeling as if I was in a trance. I had total tunnel vision on Josephine as she opened the door and slid inside Katie’s car. But as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot my head cleared, and the world refocused. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, hoping I hadn’t looked as stupid as I’d felt.

‘I gotta give you credit, Sebastian,’ said Mitchell, approaching me. ‘I didn’t think you’d actually go through with the audition.’

I shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m always up for a challenge.’

Avery attempted a serious expression. ‘Did you have fun?’

‘Oh, tons. It ranked right up there with chickenpox and root canals.’

‘You’ve gotta stop taking yourself so seriously, man,’ Avery declared. ‘What’s life without a little risk? And you lucked out today. You got to read with Josephine.’ He dropped his arm around my shoulder. ‘What about that?’

I shrugged him off. ‘So?’

‘Oh, come on. She’s pretty hot.’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Mitchell.

‘And with that whole carnival girl vibe she’s got going on…’

‘That’s enough,’ I snapped.

Avery looked stunned. ‘Excuse me?’

I felt a rush of heat as a frightening surge of anger blazed through me; the kind that made me want to hit something. I paused, shocked at my own emotion. I didn’t get like this. Indignant, sure. Even ticked off, on occasion. But nothing like this.

This was raw, barely controllable, anger.

I took a deep breath. It had to be leftover nerves from the audition, that’s all. I took a few more breaths and pressed my fist against my leg. Something inside me finally released, and the harsh emotion disappeared as quickly as it had come.

‘Sorry,’ I said, putting on an easy smile and playing down my reaction. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go home and, you know, recover from this audition thing. Maybe get a little therapy. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?’ I ignored their stares as I pushed open the lobby doors and rushed out.

What was wrong with me?

5. Sink or Swim

I considered skipping school the next day, but there was no point. I’d already seen Josephine Romany – and thoroughly embarrassed myself in the process – so that was over. Things could go back to normal now.

But I found myself constantly thinking about her, and the more I tried not to think about her, the more it happened. I wanted to see her, to somehow make up for my awkward reaction – which made even less sense to me than it did the day before – but then I’d feel mortified at the thought of seeing her – and I realized it was because I didn’t want to see her, which made absolutely no sense.

Feelings like this couldn’t be normal.

I transferred my lunch tray to one hand so I could massage my aching shoulders. Much to my dismay, and despite aspirin and a tube of muscle cream, they hadn’t loosened at all. If anything, the cramping tightness had gotten worse. Avery shifted closer as we walked through the courtyard.

‘Did somebody go to the gym last night?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Sorry, Avery,’ I replied, covering my irritation with a smirk. ‘I’m not going to join your fitness club, even if they do have really good smoothies.’ He tried to look wounded, but I wasn’t buying it. ‘I’m just a little stiff today,’ I added. ‘The weather, I guess.’

Avery glanced at the sky and cocked an eyebrow. ‘The weather?’ It was a perfect autumn day – one that begged for football and bonfires – not aching joints and muscles. ‘Look, Sebastian, I know you’ve got a full year on me, but that’s old people talk, man.’

‘I said it’s the weather, okay?’ I grinned under my hood. ‘Now shut up or I’ll beat you with my cane.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The gang was assembled in the courtyard, but with one addition: Josephine sat atop the table, chatting with the others. I instantly put on the brakes, my blood pounding in my ears. All attempts at normalcy crumbled. Avery pushed ahead, oblivious to my reaction.

‘I was so excited when my parents said we were staying in Sixes,’ she said to Katie. Her face lit up as she talked. ‘I really like it here.’

‘Well, it’s cool to have the Circe back in town,’ Mitchell squirted a packet of ketchup on his hot dog. ‘It’s been pretty boring around here.’

‘I’m glad you got switched into drama, Josie,’ said Katie. ‘I barely see you all day.’

I grimaced as Katie called her Josie. It seemed too plain for someone like her.

She was sunlight reflected on a pond.

‘Speaking of hiding out,’ said Avery from across the table, ‘where’s Francis? Did he register for drama, too?’

Josephine laughed. ‘My brother wouldn’t be caught dead in a drama class. You know what a big jock he is.’

Avery straightened, bowing out his broad chest. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? You can’t be a jock and participate in the theatrical arts?’ He flexed his broad arms for emphasis. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Of course you can,’ Josephine replied, clearly entertained. ‘But trust me, you don’t want Francis anywhere near the stage. He claims he’s too much of a tech-head for the artsy stuff.’

‘Yeah?’ Brandon set down his soda and leaned forward. ‘So what does that make us?’

Katie smiled. ‘Well-rounded.’

Josephine propped her chin in her hand. ‘So, my birthday’s on Monday.’ She was met with a chorus of well wishes and she laughed. The sound gave me a pleasant rush. ‘Thanks, guys,’ she continued, ‘but my parents are insisting on throwing me a party…turning eighteen and all that. I have to humor them, but spending a whole evening with my troupe is not exactly what I’d call a party. I mean, honestly, I see them every day.’ Everyone was listening and, like a seasoned performer, Josephine milked every moment of their attentive silence. ‘I asked my parents if I could bring some friends from school, that is, if anyone is interested.’ She tilted her chin, looking around the table innocently. ‘I’d love it if you all could come. It’s at the Circe, of course. Monday night at seven. What do you say?’

It wasn’t really much of a decision. An invitation to a party at the Circe de Romany on a weeknight easily topped the most exciting weekend plans in Sixes. Everyone talked, and Josephine seemed pleased, and I found myself smiling at her. Then I realized I was still standing there, frozen, stupidly holding my tray. Josephine saw me.

‘What about you, Sebastian?’ she asked. ‘Can you come?’

The dancing girl whirls. Green eyes meet mine.

Blinding pain. A shriek in the dark…

Everything snapped into focus. I barely kept my tray from crashing to the ground. I took a step back, clutching the plastic handles, trying to breathe again. All this time, all those zone outs. The image of the Gypsy girl. It wasn’t from the painting in the tattoo shop. It was her.

It was Josephine.

My mouth dropped open before I had the good sense to clamp it shut. All eyes were on me now, and Katie’s were so large that I thought they might pop out of her head. Josephine blinked at me, waiting for my answer. I concentrated all my energies on declining her invitation. There was no way I could attend her party. Not when just looking at her made me freak out.

‘Sure.’

The word escaped my lips completely against my will, and the sensation felt like plunging down a long flight of stairs. Josephine’s expression turned strangely solemn as she stared at me.

‘Good.’

After another dinner of Chinese takeout, I collected the Gypsy Ink trash and prepared to make my nightly pilgrimage to the garbage bin.

‘Don’t be long,’ said Vincent, tossing me another bag from his workroom. ‘There’s another load waiting for you by the counter.’

‘Some Friday night,’ I replied, transferring garbage around until I could get it all in one trip. ‘Most people go to the movies. I’ve got a date with a Hefty bag.’

Vincent followed me to the back. ‘And whose fault is that? I figured you’d be hanging out with Katie.’

‘Nope,’ I said, kicking the door open and shoving myself through. ‘She’s doing something with Josephine.’ My scalp tingled when I said her name.

Vincent raised his brows. ‘The girl from the audition?’

‘Yep.’

My scalp tingled again, growing rapidly into an annoying itch. I pressed the side of my head into my shoulder, trying to scratch without dropping the garbage bags. Vincent watched me with amused curiosity.

‘Problems?’ he asked through quirked lips.

I tried using the other shoulder. The itch just seemed to spread. ‘Hugo’s got to stop buying that cheap crap shampoo.’

Vincent thrust another bag into my chest. ‘What, discount brand not good enough for you, pretty boy? Next you’ll be asking for body wash and those loofah things my girlfriend uses.’

‘At least I take showers,’ I said with a broad grin. ‘You should try it sometime. Really helps with the smell.’

I tucked the bag under my arm and hurried down the steps before Vincent retaliated with more trash. The door clanged shut behind me. So maybe I was sans plans for the weekend, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t feeling particularly social. With all the weirdness I’d been experiencing lately, along with my teetering emotions, the thought of a couple of days away from everybody at school was pretty appealing.

My feet crunched over the gravel, and the sound echoed off the concrete walls. The lane was wide enough for a car, but the building on one side and the hedge of thick pine trees on the other made it feel enclosed, even stifling. The only illumination came from a sickly orange streetlight teetering precariously from a post.

The glow reminded me of the bonfire in my recurring image. And at that moment, I realized something: I hadn’t seen a single flash of it since lunch. Since I’d realized Josephine was the girl. Another mystery solved, I decided, as I closed the distance between the shop and the garbage area. I’d obviously seen Josephine’s picture somewhere – probably at Katie’s – since they were apparently good friends.

In other words, I was cured of the whatever-it-was – which should’ve been a relief – but I wasn’t totally back to normal. My insides hadn’t felt right since the afternoon before, not to mention my throbbing back, the unexplained slivers of gray hair I’d kept carefully hidden, and the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about Josephine Romany, no matter how hard I tried.

Or how many chores I hid behind on a perfectly decent Friday evening.

I heaved the garbage bags over the side of the dumpster, determined to ask Hugo for a raise. Maybe his little Gypsy clan wasn’t rich, but I figured enduring the dumpster smell was worth some extra cash. With my hands free, I could finally dig them into my hair for a decent scratch, but my head wasn’t tingling anymore. Or maybe I just wasn’t thinking about it because of the repugnant smell of the alley. I sniffed, wondering when the stench had gotten so bad. It was enough to clear my sinuses. I brushed my sleeve disgustedly across my nose and turned around to head back to the shop.

Then I heard it: a shuffling sound from the other end of the alley. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be behind the building, dumping trash or breaking down boxes. But it wasn’t the sound that bothered me. My skin began to crawl, and the base of my skull throbbed to the rhythm of my steadily quickening pulse. The atmosphere around me felt suddenly dark.

Very, very dark.

I pressed my back against the cold metal and peered around the dumpster. The building was black and ominous. Under the feeble light the rows of doors gaped at me like hollow, fathomless eyes. The alley was deserted.

‘Hello?’ I called out into the darkness.

The only reply was the creaking of an old pine tree as a breeze chilled the October air.

My breath spewed out in white puffs. I set my jaw to stop my chattering teeth, and pushed myself away from the trash bin, eyeing the back door of the shop.

A shadow passed across the alley. No, it was more than a shadow. It was like smoke; blackened and thickly curled. It crept along the ground, clinging to the gravel and trash, enveloping the road. It could’ve been fog, but it moved too quickly. As if it had some kind of purpose.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair. The line from Macbeth ran through my head as I watched the mist slither closer, leaving a translucent trail. Hover through the fog and filthy air.

The air seemed to whisper jumbled sounds; like many voices speaking to me at once…none distinguishable or pleasant. My blood dropped to subzero levels. I could feel my heart crashing against my ribcage. I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The mist continued to roll towards me, gaining in breadth until it stretched the width of the alley.

The door to the shop seemed a hundred miles away.

The smoke rose and hovered above me like a storm cloud. I could feel energy swirling inside it; a presence; alive and vibrant, propelling it downward. It drifted against my skin, cold and warm. I crouched, digging my shoes into the mucky ground, ready to make a run for the door. Then a strange female voice whispered in my ear.

We’ve found you…

I shot forward, propelling myself across the alley. But I didn’t get far. A gust of wind slammed into me like a freight train. The impact ripped the air from my lungs. I ricocheted off the dumpster and skidded, face first, across the dirt. Gravel sliced my palms, tore at my knees. My head rattled. Darkness invaded my vision. I felt my body trying to stand, to right itself, but I was losing consciousness. Something registered through the fog: a door banging open. I choked, gasping for oxygen as I crumpled to the ground.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay in the slosh and grime of the alley. I heard the scratching of an animal in the dumpster and the buzzing of the streetlight. But time itself passed out of reach and beyond my comprehension.

Then, arms were around me, lifting me from the ground. Vincent’s hard, lean face was close to mine, his dark eyes worried. I could smell his sweat and the hint of teriyaki on his breath.

‘Are you hurt?’ He sounded scared. ‘What happened to you?’

‘S-something…’, my throat felt coated with sand, ‘…attacked me.’

‘Attacked you?’ Vincent released me and jogged a few paces down the alley. His head twisted back and forth as he examined the road. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed. His form was blurry. I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. He returned and knelt beside me. ‘Are you sure, Sebastian? There’s no one out here.’

‘It was…’ The words didn’t make it past my teeth. The wind? I glanced at the scraggly pine branches swaying in the breeze. Then I noted the slimy tracks I’d left across the ground. Had I slipped, lost my balance in the mud? I looked at Vincent through narrowed eyes. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Looking for you,’ he replied. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was staring somewhat awkwardly at my hair. I brushed it out of my face as he continued. ‘You’ve been gone almost half an hour.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on,’ he said quickly, ‘let’s get you inside.’

He helped me to my feet. My palms itched and my right temple throbbed, but the rest of me seemed to be in working order. My lungs felt clear, and there was no trace of the mist anywhere in the alley. I glanced dubiously over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? Already, the details of what just happened felt fuzzy in my head. We entered the shop, and Kris glanced up from the counter. His eyes widened as he looked at me.

‘Um, your hair’s gray.’

I stared at him. ‘What?’

Vincent grabbed a mirror from the counter. I flipped it over and met my reflection. And I couldn’t believe what I saw. Kris was right. My hair was gray, but not the whitish gray of the elderly. It was a vibrant shade of pewter.

Only a few strands of my normally black hair remained. I tentatively brushed my fingers through it. My hair felt the same. But the shade was something out of the paint department at the hardware store. I’d heard of people’s hair changing color due to fright or trauma, but nothing like this.

‘Okay, what’s going on?’ I peeled my gaze from the mirror. ‘Is this another weird Gypsy tradition? First tattoos, then hair dye? Did my brother put you up to this?’

Vincent didn’t blink. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

As if on cue, the front door banged open. Hugo stomped through, ushering a gust of wind. ‘Did you guys see the fog?’ he said, shedding his jacket. ‘It looks like we’re going to…’ He caught sight of me, instantly registering my new hair color. But he didn’t seem surprised. His face hardened for a moment, then relaxed into an expression I couldn’t totally place.

Almost like satisfaction.

‘Your hair’s gray,’ he said.

‘Yeah, we just covered that,’ I replied.

‘Looks good on you.’ Hugo brushed passed me and chucked his jacket on the counter. ‘Hey, Vincent, can you grab that book for me? I’ve got some research to do on a Gothic tat for a customer.’ Vincent hauled a large leather-bound book from the shelf behind the counter and handed it to my brother.

‘Hold up,’ I said, tossing the mirror aside, ‘is this gray hair part of some kind of initiation thing? I thought you already said I was in the club.’

‘It’s not a club,’ Hugo replied. ‘We’re a clan. And no, having gray hair doesn’t make you Roma.’