Chapter 9

“The Great Owl’s spirit will not always be alone.”

Crying Shadow’s Teachings of the Great Owl

Translated by Erik Livingtree

A piece of herself

1

There were two picnic tables lined with beads of different shapes, sizes, and colors and there were strings, wires, and clasps along with various other jewelry-making supplies. Not something Whitney was familiar with, but she could see enough to feel immediate threads of inspiration. She was interested.

Kam let go of her thighs and allowed her to slide to the ground next to an empty picnic table where she was to sit and work. Overall, there were about twenty girls at the craft pavilion. Some were already at the tables working on projects. Whitney took a seat, and Tommy started to walk away.

Oh no you don’t! Whitney scolded. Not yet!

Huh?

Whitney turned and smiled at him, which was weird. For Whitney, smiling was one thing, but turning her face toward him, while piggybacking—smiling to herself in a sense—was a different matter. It reminded him of when they were still very young. Before she knew that having friends was important ... and it must be important to her. What other explanation could there be? She pulled back from Tommy as they left the copse of trees—angry over Tommy’s response to Kam’s question, but by the time they reached the pavilion, she was over it. When she reconnected with him at the pavilion, her mood was better. Tommy couldn’t attribute that to anything else but riding on Kam’s back.

You have to go get what I need.

Oh ... sure, I guess, He thought back to her, in no hurry to stand in line with a bunch of girls picking out jewelry stuff, but he wasin a hurry to get out of there, so he made his way over to the tables labeled supplies.

Then I can go? You can do this without seeing?

Surprised your sister isn’t helpless without you?

No! I um ... I mean, of course not!

Whitney giggled aloud, her aloof attitude surprising him. She was enjoying herself.

A little uncomfortable are we? That’s a switch! I got it covered. You are free to go after you get my stuff, servant boy! Make it snappy. I got work to do! She snapped her fingers at the table as she said it.

Tommy got into the line of girls waiting to grab their goods. He felt antsy, but his mood was good. There were a thousand things to do and knowing that he didn’t have to stay long eased his schedule.

“I’m grabbing stuff for my sister,” he said nervously. He held both hands up to the girls that stepped in line behind him. “I’m not making bracelets or anything.”

God, you really are a dork when it comes to girls, Whitney thought to him. I always thought you were like Blake, but he’s never nervous.

Blah blah blah, he thought back. Look at her! She’s giving me goofy looks. She probably thinks I’m a little prissy boy or something, he thought to her, referring to the girl standing next to him. Tommy’s explanation hadn’t changed the way she was looking at him either. Her eyebrows lowered and her lips pursed.

You are a prissy boy. Remember the arena? I used to kick you around like rag doll!

Man. You’re full of jokes today.

“It was her, wasn’t it?” The girl asked nodding her head in Whitney’s direction.

What’s that supposed to mean? Whitney asked. The joy in her thoughts evaporated.

The girl’s words weren’t malicious or envious, so he wasn’t sure where she was coming from.

“What was who?”

“Cheyenne and I were arguing morning and I think your sister killed IT last night, but Chey says no way. She says your sister’s just weird and couldn’t have done anything to change anything.”

Tommy stood there with a blank expression. Kam was right. The campers were drawing lines and it felt like a dual edged sword. There was no side of the fence to stand on that felt right to him. They were either nuts or had to defeat something they didn’t understand. Either way felt like a loss to him. Walking the fence made the most sense—if they let him get away with it.

He looked over to his left to see if he could sneak to the supply table for a distraction from the conversation, but luck wasn’t with him. There were still four girls hovering around it picking up their girly goodies.

Does this sound as crazy to you as it does to me? Whitney thought to him. I thought we were the crazy ones. You know the blind and deaf girl who shares thoughts with her telekinetic, lock-picking broth ... Hey ... that reminds me ... So far we tell our friends what I can do, but somehow you get to fly under the radar? Why is that?

One issue at a time, Whit! I kinda have my hands full here. I really wish you could do the talking sometimes.

“So which is it?” the girl asked.

“I’m not weird!” he heard Whitney say, her words barely rising above the general buzz of girl conversation hanging in the air. They were standing too far from Whitney’s table for the girl to realize Whitney spoke.

More jokes? Tommy thought to her sarcastically.

Well which is it, bro? Am I a weirdo or a freakazoid?

“I don’t think that thing will be back again while we’re here!” he said with fake bravado. “Rest assured girls! As long as we’re around everyone’s safe!”

“Told ya!” the girl said turning toward her friend, and Tommy couldn’t help but to imagine the girl finishing it off by sticking her tongue out like a six-year-old. Her tone sure sounded like one.

Are you insane, Tommy? Tell them you were kidding! We can’t go feeding into that crap!

Who says its crap, Whit? It may come down to that, Tommy thought to her. Besides—did you see her smile? Maybe they need a little reassurance.

Oh yeah, sure! Then when IT does come back? What then, genius? They all come looking for us to save the day and bottom line, I’m just a blind and deaf girl who can talk to her brother without moving my lips and you can float quarters with your pee-brain. Hardly hero material! There’s no S on my shirt, Tommy. None on yours either. I can’t even walk to a soda fountain to get my own soda without help.

“She’s in your head right now, isn’t she?” another girl asked. She was standing in the line leading to the other side of the table, so she was facing directly toward Tommy. He hadn’t seen her around before, so he had no idea who she was and Whitney didn’t seem to recognize her either.

His face flushed. He wasn’t used to people asking him questions about what they could do. Kam said they spilled their guts the night before, and the reality of that smacked him in the face. Could they contain their secret after the camp was over?

“Umm ... yeah,” he bumbled.

The girl looked over to where Whitney was sitting and then back to him. “That’s so weird ... She’s sitting over there and looking at me through you! Bizarre!”

Stop confirming it, Tommy! Jeez! Have you lost your mind? Apparently, you get around a pretty girl and all you can do is blab blab blab!

The girls at the supply table finally finished and a spot opened up. Tommy moved in, grabbed one of the divided trays and waited for Whitney to tell him what to grab.

Now that choices confronted Whitney, she faltered. What did she really want or need with jewelry? She placed no value on wearing things that would attract people’s attention, because there wasn’t any way for her to deal with the attention if she got it.

Oh what a pretty necklace you are wearing, she pictured someone asking, followed by her blank stare. She wouldn’t realize someone was asking her something unless they knew how to sign, and knew she needed them to sign into her hands.

She still liked the idea of making something. Even if the only reason was to prove she could do it. She wanted to do it—So ... if not for herself, for Kat.

She picked out what she thought she needed and had Tommy gather it distributing it among the segments of the tray. He walked over to where Whitney was sitting, set the tray in front of her and started to walk away.

Wait, Tommy!

What now? He thought.

Stare at the tray for a minute so I can memorize where everything is and I will quit bugging you.

You’re not...

Yes, I am and I get it Tommy. Your life revolves around me almost all of the time because I am dependent on you. I try not to be, but I am. I get it.

Tommy came back to the table and stared at the tray. Whitney began looking closely at it, picking out exactly where everything was located.

It doesn’t bother me, you know, Tommy thought to her.

I know. Most of the time it doesn’t, but sometimes it does. Like now—you have things you need to do and I am holding you back. You want to leave as soon as possible. You want to check out the lake effect thing. I know. You want to get to Erik. I understand. I’m not mad.

I’ll stay. I should be here with you anyway.

I’m ready now. And no you won’t stay. You can’t. I need you to be gone so I can prove to myself I can do it without you here. If you’re here, I will just end up using your eyes because it’s easier. You actually have to leave. Now go, she finished, and she pulled back into herself.

2

She was glad to be without him. Not because she didn’t want him there, but because she had something in front of her to accomplish—something she thought she could accomplish.

She never attempted much without the use of his eyes, other than normal, everyday tasks. The thought never occurred to her, but there was a tray full of beads and wire and those three little hard-wire forms sitting in front of her and a picture of the end product was beginning to form in her mind.

Ultimately, that was all she needed. She could make it via her imagination. She could feel that in her gut and she was excited about finding out if she was being overly optimistic or not.

She was sure Kat would love it. Kat was all about pretty and even though Whitney didn’t know for sure the necklace she planned to make would end up being ‘pretty’, she thought it might have meaning. She had an idea that Kat was into that too. She wished she could see the look in Kat’s eye when she gave it to her. On the plus side of not being able to see and hear—she also wouldn’t be able to see the ‘you’re a weirdo’ stares she was sure were still coming her way. Guess I’ll have to take the good with the bad.

She centered the tray in front of her, trying to recall where everything was. She wasn’t sure how clear her memory would be because Tommy kept talking to her instead of letting her concentrate. The dividers separated the beads neatly. There were pinks, yellows, reds, oranges, blues, greens, and even browns, blacks, and greys. The more feminine colors were on the left and the masculine on the right. Her memory’s image of the tray was clear. She could visualize it perfectly and with more clarity than she originally thought possible. She chose both feminine and masculine colors, which was odd because this was going to be a gift for Kat and all feminine colors would have made more sense. She was committed because Tommy wasn’t there anymore, but there was something else. Somehow, the mix felt right.

Kat’s shadow was still over at the supply tables. Apparently, Kat wasn’t as decisive, which wasn’t surprising. Kat was all over the place in conversation so why think that she was decisive in crafting things. Whitney’s mind was made up. She knew what she wanted to make.

When Whitney first met Kat, the girl had flower petals stuffed into every open crevice of clothing. There were flowers of every color and she wanted to do something to commemorate that initial meeting. In the bottom left and bottom right segment of the tray, she had Tommy gather three hard wire preformed shapes that struck her as interesting and worked together in her mind. Two of them were in the shape of teardrops. Both the sizes and shapes reminding Whitney of the birthmarks on both her and her brother’s back. The other was a larger oval the perfect size for both of the teardrops to fit inside with the points directed toward each other. The teardrops could signify her and her brother, and the larger oval could signify the friendship bond the four of them formed. It seemed perfect. Me and Tommy inside of a circle of friendship, she thought. She liked it and she was sure that Kat would too.

3

Kat came back to the table where Whitney was sitting, bright as a butterfly, surprised to see Whitney making something, good, good. Whitney needed to get out of herself. Stuck, she’s stuck, her foot is deep in mush. Whitney had one of the teardrop shapes in her hand and she was threading beads onto it, like a zoom-zoom with a broom, broom. Not only was Whitney making something, but also she was making it look easy-peasy, pies are greasy.

Unlike some of the talk Kat was hearing from others, she had no doubts about Whitney’s blindness, or deafness. Her friend Silvia Gladwin back home was bat-blind and Kat was used to seeing the blank stare and the cane, swatting back and forth as she walked. Nobody could fake that consistently, nope, nope. Who would want to? Hah-ah, no, no! Whitney was blind and deaf regardless of what some people were saying. You can believe that, Bob.

Her friend’s sudden adept skill at jewelry making would definitely add fuel to the debate around camp. She wasn’t searching for beads when she needed another one. She simply reached into the tray, without looking of course, duh, grabbed one and returned her hand, threading another bead onto the preformed piece. Then she would reach down for another bead. No problems, shmoblems.