the garden, laughing and tossing off shirts and shoes. Not even the rain stopped them. April certainly didnât seem Vincentâs type, yet they were thick as thieves. Those two instinctively knew how to have fun, something at which Jet and Franny were both painfully inept.
There came a hot morning when Vincent was sleeping late and Franny was at the library when April knocked on the attic door. Jet was in bed reading an annotated copy of Emily Dickinsonâs poems that sheâd found on a bookshelf in the parlor.
April grabbed the embossed edition from Jetâs hands. âLetâs get out of here.â When Jet hesitated, April made a face. âYou canât read and pull weeds for the rest of your life. Try doing as you please and see how it feels.â
If this was an offer of friendship, who was Jet to decline? So off they went to Leech Lake on a whim, with a cooler of beers bought at the corner store thanks to a fake ID April had obtained in Harvard Square for twenty dollars and the promise of a kiss that was never granted.
When they reached the lake, Jet undressed behind some shrubbery. She was wearing her old black bathing suit under her dress, but was still modest. April, however, hadnât bothered with a suit. She merely slipped off her clothes, dropping them onto the grass. She was even more beautiful naked, a pale exotic creature so daring she climbed to the highest rock, then dove in without a moment of hesitation. Like the siblings, she floated right back up to the surface. She shook her fist in the air. âJust try to drown me!â she called out to some invisible enemy. âOh, come on,â she crooned, when Jet looked scandalized. âDonât be such a baby.â
Later, while they dried off in the sun, April unbraided her hair, which looked like snow as it fell down her back. There was a smear of mud on her face, and she had a lost expression, appearing more thoughtful than usual. âI can see the future, and I thought that would help me know my path, but I keep walking right into every mistake.â
âEveryone makes mistakes,â Jet said. âItâs part of being human.â
April gave her a contrary look. âThatâs not exactly what we are. Or donât you get that?â
âWeâre human enough.â
âYou must have a special talent.â
âI can tell what people are thinking,â Jet admitted. April was the first person other than Franny to whom Jet had confided this skill. She was always embarrassed to be anything other than normal, as if she were proving those dreadful girls at the Starling School right.
âReally?â Aprilâs interest in her cousin was piqued. Perhaps Jet wasnât as mousy as she seemed.
âI donât want to know. Itâs so intrusive, it seems morallywrong, but I canât seem to stop it unless the person blocks me by putting up a force field around her mind. Frannyâs good at that. She just shuts down emotionally. She never lets anyone in. I guess thatâs her strength.â
âTry with me,â April insisted. âI wonât block you. What am I thinking right now?â
Jet knew this was dangerous business. She kept her eyes downcast. âYou wish you could stay here,â she said in a consoling voice.
âAnyone could guess that. Tell me something no one else would know. Show me your talent.â
They were sitting across from each other. The rest of the world dropped away when they took each otherâs hands and looked into each otherâs eyes. They both cleared their minds. They could hear bees in the tall grass and the flickering of birds that skimmed over the lake, and then, all at once, they couldnât. Everything around them fell silent. It was just the two of them, and as Aprilâs mind opened to her cousin, Jet gasped, startled by Aprilâs deepest thoughts. By now she had realized that people were surprising creatures.
Bret Witter, Luis Carlos Montalván