Tralates. Stop looking so confused; you’ll blow our cover. Addo says. He rubs his chin as if he’s trying to make sense of everything as he continues, only to me, inside my head. Tralates are the folks who are linked to the afterlife, similar to the Alo. Kind of. Tralates receive messages from the universe when it’s uber necessary to have them, via vision, via the Earthly written word. So what that means is that when there are books or written papers lying around, if there’s something you need to know, the words are going to bring themselves to your attention. You should be doing cartwheels. Only some have the gift of translative vision.
How many?
That I’ve met in my lifetime? Uh...you. Addo’s voice meanders around my brain, but he quirks his head to the side as Ms. Fisk asks me, “Did you see anything, Nalena?”
It takes me a minute to figure out what he wants me to say. I shake my head and say, “No.”
“Well,” Addo sounds almost delighted. “I’ll just have another look then.”
He makes a big show of bending over to pick up the paper and folding it in quarters. His voice pokes up inside my head. Good girl. Most likely, the Vision is a result of your momentary checkout during re-Impressioning. Or the re-Impressioning itself. Who knows? But at any rate, being a Tralate is a special gift you should probably keep under your hat, capice?
Except for Garrett. I add.
“Okay, Nalena,” Addo says, straightening up. It’s an answer, even though it doesn’t sound like it when he says it out loud. “Go ahead and grab a seat. I’ll let you know what this means after I take a better look, alright?”
In my head he adds, And it looks to me that you have a choice to make.
I turn away from him as I send my answer: No. I don’t. But my voice says, “I don’t care what it says, if it’s about Roger.”
“If that’s what you prefer,” Addo says and then, only in my head, You can always give Evangeline and Walter a shot at taking care of Roger on their own.
Every step back to my chair is a word. No. I. Can’t.
This is a lot for your mother to ask of you, kiddo. Addo’s voice frowns in my head. And it’s not even likely that you’ll succeed.
I take my seat beside Garrett and he gives me an exhausted smile. Things start snapping together. Garrett said he’d talked to his connection about me. That ‘Wally’ had said I was a good bet, that he’d bet all his quarters on me. I don’t know how I’d missed it. My grandfather, Walter, was known for slipping quarters to every child he met. My grandfather’s been with Garrett all along, with me.
I don’t look back at the Addo as he settles onto his own chair. If I look, I’m afraid I’ll glare at him and give everything away. Garrett’s face is level and calm, as if nothing just happened to him either.
Of course I’ll succeed. I send the thought to Addo, trying to sound as sure and capable as I need to feel. Just because I don’t know what I’m doing yet…
“Dut dut dut,” Addo clicks his tongue to shut me up. Whatever expression is on my face, Ms. Fisk seems to be studying it, so I drop my eyes into my lap and pick at my fingernails instead. Addo turns to her, “Madam Fisk, is there anything else for us?”
What I mean is, Addo continues to only me, this isn’t an easy thing to do. In fact, this is quite a bugger of a thing to do. It’s not just that your grandfather passed away over seventeen years ago…
“There’s nothing more,” Ms. Fisk says.
Murdered. I clear the growl from my throat with a cough. Addo acknowledges it with a tiny nod that could just as likely be answering Ms. Fisk as me, but then he continues in my head.
It’s not like we just noticed that Roger stole your grandfather’s Memory and then went about our business. We’ve been searching high and low and sideways, but Roger was quite aware of how important Walter’s Memory was to us. And it turns out, Roger hid the thing pretty darn good.
“Alrighty
How many?
That I’ve met in my lifetime? Uh...you. Addo’s voice meanders around my brain, but he quirks his head to the side as Ms. Fisk asks me, “Did you see anything, Nalena?”
It takes me a minute to figure out what he wants me to say. I shake my head and say, “No.”
“Well,” Addo sounds almost delighted. “I’ll just have another look then.”
He makes a big show of bending over to pick up the paper and folding it in quarters. His voice pokes up inside my head. Good girl. Most likely, the Vision is a result of your momentary checkout during re-Impressioning. Or the re-Impressioning itself. Who knows? But at any rate, being a Tralate is a special gift you should probably keep under your hat, capice?
Except for Garrett. I add.
“Okay, Nalena,” Addo says, straightening up. It’s an answer, even though it doesn’t sound like it when he says it out loud. “Go ahead and grab a seat. I’ll let you know what this means after I take a better look, alright?”
In my head he adds, And it looks to me that you have a choice to make.
I turn away from him as I send my answer: No. I don’t. But my voice says, “I don’t care what it says, if it’s about Roger.”
“If that’s what you prefer,” Addo says and then, only in my head, You can always give Evangeline and Walter a shot at taking care of Roger on their own.
Every step back to my chair is a word. No. I. Can’t.
This is a lot for your mother to ask of you, kiddo. Addo’s voice frowns in my head. And it’s not even likely that you’ll succeed.
I take my seat beside Garrett and he gives me an exhausted smile. Things start snapping together. Garrett said he’d talked to his connection about me. That ‘Wally’ had said I was a good bet, that he’d bet all his quarters on me. I don’t know how I’d missed it. My grandfather, Walter, was known for slipping quarters to every child he met. My grandfather’s been with Garrett all along, with me.
I don’t look back at the Addo as he settles onto his own chair. If I look, I’m afraid I’ll glare at him and give everything away. Garrett’s face is level and calm, as if nothing just happened to him either.
Of course I’ll succeed. I send the thought to Addo, trying to sound as sure and capable as I need to feel. Just because I don’t know what I’m doing yet…
“Dut dut dut,” Addo clicks his tongue to shut me up. Whatever expression is on my face, Ms. Fisk seems to be studying it, so I drop my eyes into my lap and pick at my fingernails instead. Addo turns to her, “Madam Fisk, is there anything else for us?”
What I mean is, Addo continues to only me, this isn’t an easy thing to do. In fact, this is quite a bugger of a thing to do. It’s not just that your grandfather passed away over seventeen years ago…
“There’s nothing more,” Ms. Fisk says.
Murdered. I clear the growl from my throat with a cough. Addo acknowledges it with a tiny nod that could just as likely be answering Ms. Fisk as me, but then he continues in my head.
It’s not like we just noticed that Roger stole your grandfather’s Memory and then went about our business. We’ve been searching high and low and sideways, but Roger was quite aware of how important Walter’s Memory was to us. And it turns out, Roger hid the thing pretty darn good.
“Alrighty
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