Read Online Thalo Blue by Jason McIntyre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jason McIntyre
Ads: Link
beauty of Wilt Marin’s finest caliber, was passing out flyers in the hall on the last regular class day of Zeb’s eleventh grade. They had never spoken, Zeb and Vivian, despite the fact that he knew who she was all the way back from St. Vincent’s days when she was at St. Catherine’s Girls Prep. Their generation had no protest marches, no anti-war campaigns, and no unified will to support or overthrow any government leaders, so Zeb, curious, had no thought as to what the flyers might announce. They were a bit overdone, he decided when he finally got a glimpse of one, as she popped them in vents of selected lockers and handed them to certain people as they passed. A neat thing and something he would have thought to do for his sixteenth birthday party, too—if he would have had countless guests to invite like Viv Leland. Yet it seemed a completely uncool thing to do. Would anyone want to come to a party after hearing about it on a flyer?
Zeb supposed the flyers, peach with white text shadowed in black, were for three reasons: One, the Leland family was rich, could easily afford stacks and stacks of these professionally designed flyers for all of Vivian’s classmates and they would undoubtedly do anything to make their daughter happy. Two, her birthday was July third, over the long weekend and more than two weeks into summer vacation. Without something written down, maybe most kids would just ignore it, forget it, maybe stumble across other plans. Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind. An empty party for Viv’s sweet sixteen just wouldn’t have made the princess altogether happy, now would it? And three, because, as Zeb found out when he picked one of the stray sheets from the hallway floor to read it, there were complicated instructions on how to arrive at the party. It was, he discovered, to be held at the Leland summer cottage. Lake of Bays, two and a half hours from the city. A posh and roomy estate on the water front in Dorset Township. This would be a big to-do all right. And Vivian wanted to make sure it was as filled as could be.
In her flyer-handout trek, Vivian crossed back towards the east wing, unbeknownst to Zeb who stood in the late afternoon sun-glow of an end hallway window, staring down at the peach flyer in his hand. It had the Dorset township address of the Leland home and even a map with driving instructions. She startled him with her words as she came up from behind, turning sideways, and continuing to pass. But she only had to say one thing, one thing that made it all right to be standing there like an idiot in the empty east wing hallway holding her flyer which he had snagged from the dusty floor.
“—You can come too, Sebastion...if you want...”
Ah, Christ. It was just that last bit. “If you want.” Why did she have to add that? It was like, Hey, you’re not really invited, but since you picked the flyer up off the floor before the janitors swept it into the trash, I guess you can come. It’s not like I can un-invite you. I can’t grab the invitation out of your hand, can I?
July long weekend, the summer following his eleventh grade, Zeb Redfield went to Lake of Bays for Vivian Leland’s sixteenth birthday bash. Backwards and blind, his open-air rollercoaster ride was just beginning.
<> <> <>
Zeb did not see his kaleidoscope colors only, did not witness fancy shades that whirled like mingled carnival rides and nothing else. There was more than just his magnificent view of the alphabet, of those candy-shaded contours that held meaning separate from the words they built. He heard things too, saw shapes and felt shadows of pressure across his body when certain other senses were aroused. As he got older he discovered more rooms in his synaesthetic mansion, established what could be expected and what was known. When he heard certain phrases or certain sounds at certain volumes, there would be a rustle, as though a sprinkle of autumn leaves had been blown from nowhere, across the tops of
Zeb supposed the flyers, peach with white text shadowed in black, were for three reasons: One, the Leland family was rich, could easily afford stacks and stacks of these professionally designed flyers for all of Vivian’s classmates and they would undoubtedly do anything to make their daughter happy. Two, her birthday was July third, over the long weekend and more than two weeks into summer vacation. Without something written down, maybe most kids would just ignore it, forget it, maybe stumble across other plans. Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind. An empty party for Viv’s sweet sixteen just wouldn’t have made the princess altogether happy, now would it? And three, because, as Zeb found out when he picked one of the stray sheets from the hallway floor to read it, there were complicated instructions on how to arrive at the party. It was, he discovered, to be held at the Leland summer cottage. Lake of Bays, two and a half hours from the city. A posh and roomy estate on the water front in Dorset Township. This would be a big to-do all right. And Vivian wanted to make sure it was as filled as could be.
In her flyer-handout trek, Vivian crossed back towards the east wing, unbeknownst to Zeb who stood in the late afternoon sun-glow of an end hallway window, staring down at the peach flyer in his hand. It had the Dorset township address of the Leland home and even a map with driving instructions. She startled him with her words as she came up from behind, turning sideways, and continuing to pass. But she only had to say one thing, one thing that made it all right to be standing there like an idiot in the empty east wing hallway holding her flyer which he had snagged from the dusty floor.
“—You can come too, Sebastion...if you want...”
Ah, Christ. It was just that last bit. “If you want.” Why did she have to add that? It was like, Hey, you’re not really invited, but since you picked the flyer up off the floor before the janitors swept it into the trash, I guess you can come. It’s not like I can un-invite you. I can’t grab the invitation out of your hand, can I?
July long weekend, the summer following his eleventh grade, Zeb Redfield went to Lake of Bays for Vivian Leland’s sixteenth birthday bash. Backwards and blind, his open-air rollercoaster ride was just beginning.
<> <> <>
Zeb did not see his kaleidoscope colors only, did not witness fancy shades that whirled like mingled carnival rides and nothing else. There was more than just his magnificent view of the alphabet, of those candy-shaded contours that held meaning separate from the words they built. He heard things too, saw shapes and felt shadows of pressure across his body when certain other senses were aroused. As he got older he discovered more rooms in his synaesthetic mansion, established what could be expected and what was known. When he heard certain phrases or certain sounds at certain volumes, there would be a rustle, as though a sprinkle of autumn leaves had been blown from nowhere, across the tops of
Similar Books
