Patty-Cake 5

5

I wrote what I called my last letter that night. I didn’t bother to listen in on Nell, who never spoke much anyway before she fell asleep early. I sprawled out on my side and propped my head up with my hand, jotting down slanted sentences from a scattered train of thought. Every now and again I glanced up at Nell and paused my hand. Her hair fell over her face in a poof. She pressed her thumbs together repeatedly. I thought if I introduced her to Doc, she would have an easier time. Then again, if she didn’t trust me—which I wasn’t sure she did—it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

I took a break and rolled my face around on my fresh sheets to breathe in the syrupy scent of the soap the staff used to wash linen. The smell was fine for a short amount of time, but I enjoyed my smell better—it was one of the few things that made the Drolery seem like a rightful home. And maybe I mostly smelled like the soap from the baths, but there was something else…something indistinguishable, like nectar out of the skin, or the color of the soul, that only the owner could appreciate and recognize. I turned back to my letter and wrote that in.

Later, after Nell had fallen asleep, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and glanced at the door. Doc’s suggestion pricked my brain and caused me to wonder if I’d been the victim of a seemingly harmless prank. But I didn’t know anyone in the Drolery who was so eager to ruin my sheets. In any case, they had to have had fingers of silk, because the tissues in my nose had been missing, too. Odds were I would’ve woken up as they were reaching for those.

All the same, because Jeremy hadn’t visited, I walked across the room and locked the door—the lock was stiff as though new, because Drols didn’t lock doors. I couldn’t think of a reason we needed to. Even Lorie wouldn’t sneak in at night to beat someone up. She had to have her beauty sleep, after all.

On my way back I flipped off the lights and piled my pillows up—closer to the corner this time—and settled on them at an angle. With my papers under my sheets, I fell into a deeper sleep than before, trying to make up for my early hours this morning. Nothing would happen tonight unless I was Poltergeisting while unaware.

The very thought of it unsettled me. All Drols manifested their power in ways which reflected their personalities, so it was said. Poltergeisting, as it was entitled, was named so because, to others, it seemed as though Drols doing this could express their power invisibly. I was not the only Drol to ever Poltergeist; as a matter of fact, a large crowd of Drols did, and one of them was Lorie. Another was Kim. We were drawn together, it seemed, or at least Jeremy thought so.

On occasion, Kim and I would talk about our similar experiences in Poltergeisting the way we saw it, because through our eyes (and our partners’), we weren’t expressing power invisibly. We had extra infinite sets of spectral arms, the appearance of which varied to us, at our disposal, to attack from afar, or attack several things at once. Poltergeisting allowed us roundabout vision, to target enemies on all sides of us. And, when coupled with our partners, Poltergeisters could concentrate energy into a single, explosive shot—something like a sonic boom. I knew some Poltergeisters who could shake the earth, some who could create force-fields…but I was coupled with the sonic boom effect, which in its own right was useful. But, confidentially, I had always wanted to put a shield up for Benjie that wasn’t my own body.

My arms—I saw them when focused with them—were gnarly, long-nailed, club-like things with bony, hairy, ghoulish fingers on top of blocky, fat, palms. And if that was a representation of my personality, I wondered what the hell my creator thought of me. This one will be gross and frightening and unlikeable, she probably said, because someone has to be. In any case, my creator’s plan had backfired, because I was none of those.

I had my Poltergeisting under exceptional control (except when Paul was concerned), which is why it curdled my blood to feel as though my power could act on its own. I honestly didn’t think it could, but what other explanation did I have? It had to be a fault in my own control, maybe from the injuries that my skull had braced. Tonight would be the true test, and thinking about it made it difficult to sleep in the first place, but I managed.

Somehow, out of some incredible, joke-happy circumstance, though I could scarcely believe it at first until I felt individual blade of grass in my hand, I woke up on the lawn in the courtyard, next to the fence.

Sitting up, I thought I would be in the type of dream where my desires were realized. If that dream went according to plan, the fence would disappear and I would be free to go pick a flower. But I draped my fingers over the chain link and kept them there for a while to be sure. Eventually I pulled my hand away and glared up at the morning sky, which was gloomy and fogged over. I was damp from mist and dew, and itchy from the grass, which was bloody where my nose had dripped.

If my Poltergeisting could do this to me, I had to be harboring some sort of reserve power which was unleashed now, of all times. But in the moment I was irritated and frustrated, and above all confused. I tore out the grass around me, stood up promptly and kicked the fence in my socks.

And then, from behind, I heard the padding of feet, and shortly after Paul’s voice calling, “Patty?”

I turned around on him as he was about to jog toward me. He wore his grey basics only, as he normally did when he jogged the courtyard in the morning, and he was damp from head to toe and spattered generously with sweat under the crevices.

“Are you out jogging, too?” he asked bouncily as he approached on light heels. “Did you come out to meet me? Oh man, you should have said you were coming! I knew you’d come around to jogging some day! After all it really tones your legs up, and everyone could use more tone. How long you been out here? You’re really wet! Hey, is your nose—

“Shut up!” I ordered, and my voice crackled. He stopped jogging a few feet away from me. “Is Doc up? Just this once, can you answer that question only?”

“Yeah, are you ill?” he murmured, and his face went deathly pale. “Are you hurting somewhere, Patty-Cake? Did you run into something? Oh gosh!”

“No!” I seethed. “I just need…” And I paused to take a deep breath and gather myself. “…to see him.”

“You always play the strong kid,” Paul whimpered uncertainly. “But I know when you’re in trouble! Stay right here! Sit down and put your head between your knees! I’ll go get him! I have the fastest sprint time anywhere near here! Hang in there, okay?”

Like a bullet he escaped, faster even than Ox had yesterday morning. The doors to the Drolery clunked shut and I let out a deep sigh…and sopped my heavy, muddy socks toward the door in his trail. I smelled like a shrub, or a fresh mowed lawn and a little bit of roughage. A good bath would do me well, but I couldn’t afford to take one in peace until I had some idea of what was going on.

Unexpectedly, Doc ran out to me in a hurry before I got to the doors, but only just before. Paul followed closely behind him. 

“For the love of all Drols, you look like you spent all night out here, Patty!” he exclaimed.

I made an impatient face, nodded slowly, and lifted my arms briefly before dropping them at my sides.

His eyes shifted and he straightened. “Did you spend all night out here?”

I pinched my shirt and looked at it, and lifted a sock and stared at it… “I would have to say—apparently.”

“You’re kidding me,” he gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You really think I would spend a night out here of my own free will? Anyway, they wouldn’t let me out the doors until five! What do you think I did—parasail out of my window?” I scoffed, glowering at him, but desperate for answers all the same.

“You didn’t lock the door,” he assumed. Paul glanced between us with the sort of thoughtless look on his face that magnified every second.

“I locked the ------- door!” I argued. Paul’s lips puckered up at my sailor’s tongue, and I added, “Sorry, princess.”

At the same time, the universe imbued us with the same thought: The door.

We split for the building. Paul fumbled along behind us, tried to help me balance while I pulled my socks off before hopping indoors, and attempted a few questions here and there, but when Doc failed to respond he stopped asking, as was their unheard agreement, apparently. Doc got up the stairs to the second floor before me (naturally) and Paul tarried behind politely, jogging delicately in contrast to my sprint so he would equal my speed. When I rounded the corner, Doc had already yanked the handle—and kept yanking it—but it wouldn’t budge.

We exchanged bewildered glances. I toppled sideways and leaned into the wall for support, clutching my forehead. “Did I do that?” I hissed at him, and for once, he appeared genuinely lost. And then he whipped around on the door and beat it with his fist.

“Nell!” he hollered. “Nell, open this door immediately!”

 I was aghast, and I leapt at him as a muffled, squelching squeal came from inside. He fought me when I tackled his fists. “Stop! You’re scaring her!”

And from inside came the wail: “Patty!”

My heart dropped into my feet, first because she said my name! Second because she needed me. It was a beautiful moment, the kind I had hoped for. At the same time, it was a horrible time to be smiling, because she was terrified. I wiped the smile off of my face and got a hold of myself, pressing my face to the door.

“It’s okay, Nell, come open the door when you feel safe, Doc’s gone!” I reassured her, and waved Doc off. He lowered his brows and folded his arms, rooting himself.

A loud thunk rattled the walls, and again Nell cried, “Patty!”

The mood had changed. My eyes shot to Doc, who uttered, “What was that?”

I knocked on the door. “Nell, are you okay?” I twisted the knob and realized that it turned all the way, as if unlocked, but the door wouldn’t budge beyond a tiny bit. Another loud, grinding noise sounded and the door shuddered. By this time, Jeremy was at my side instead of Paul. I kept trying to force the door open, but any amount it did budge was little.

Then Doc pushed me aside urgently and brought Paul with him. Together, they charged the door, and while the door creaked with pressure and seemed ready to break, neither of them could shift it.

Kim came alongside me in her pajamas and North-Weave slippers, yawning and observing passively. I patted Doc on the shoulder and pushed him aside, and then grabbed Kim.

Without my instruction, she said, “Gotcha,” and raised her head to address the entire population of Drols standing at their doors. “Everyone! Close your doors and stand away from them!”

I shooed everyone standing around us and instructed them to stand somewhere safe, out of the way of any of the doors. Jeremy never moved more than a foot, which I expected.

The loud sounds from inside continued, though Nell never made any more than the second call. Kim gave me the thumbs-up and we stood side by side, staring down the door. To everyone else, it was a magic trick. But my spectral arms emerged readily from me—as did Kim’s, which were ironically chiseled and lovely—and simultaneously they slammed into the door, which finally forced it open. As it gave, I noticed a blockage in the gap, and let the claws of my hands go at one strong swipe…

…Which left a five-slice in the now-open door and some of the blockage. Right away, I advanced and let my spectral hands do the clearing (though they were a little wild at it, and something went flying). When I finally brought them back after having cleared the way, Doc and Jeremy entered with me to find Nell in the right-hand corner of the room, narrowly crowded by the stuff which had blocked the door: My bed, the cushion bed, the mirror (broken), the night-table, both clothes dressers (mine and Lorie’s) and the clock (which had flown and busted on the wall).

Amidst it, Nell sat quaking, her face beet red, her cheeks drenched, her hair frazzled, and her hands so unsteady she couldn’t even keep them still over her knees.

I made a move for her, but Doc stopped me by force and had Paul and Jeremy watch me—which was unfair—while he approached her, pulled her gingerly to her feet by an arm after a brief once-over, and hauled her up into his arms. All the while she was glazed over, her eyes staring ever-forward. Doc exited the room, instructing me specifically not to follow, that the infirmary doors would be locked and watched, and to go take a bath and relax; he would talk to me later.

When he left, Jeremy and Paul relaxed their block on me. I didn’t make an attempt to catch him and take Nell back, because if I did I wasn’t sure where I would take her. The courtyard, maybe, but Doc would just follow and wait for me to give her up. I should have introduced her to him. I knew that at that moment—that crippling thought sank me lower than I was when I found her in the bathroom stall in the dark. I kept letting her down.

“You okay, Patty?” Jeremy asked softly, rubbing my shoulder. Even Paul was speechless. All the same, I could tell that it bothered Jeremy for him to stand so close to me.

“Paul, go finish your run, would you?” I asked. He obliged, but only on the reminder that he had five minutes left. By then I figured I would be in the baths.

“I just wanted to help her,” I mumbled, hanging my head. “But you were right.”

Jeremy, already dressed this morning, slid his hands half into his pockets and sighed. “You know…I think any way you look at it, it would have turned out bad.”

That was what I had concluded last time. But in my head, there were so many ways in which I thought it should have gone well. “I don’t know.”

“What happened to you, anyway? How did all of this start?” he inquired, and I explained my bizarre waking situation. He took it all in with a few wild faces at me and finally raised his brows in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“I don’t know what to tell myself,” I groaned. “I must be Poltergeisting somehow. I must have…”

He started rocking on his heels. “You know, call me crazy, but I don’t think it was you. You can’t do astral projection that anyone knows of, especially not to yourself. But, based on what I just saw, I think Nell can Poltergeist, seeing as she managed to block the door like that alone. And I think she can project.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I spat, shoving him. “Even if she could project, she’d have to be coupled with her Shepherd to do it, and he’s an absentee, remember?”

Jeremy shrugged. “That means you wouldn’t be able to, either, even if you could, since Benjie is away.”

“What if it’s some extra power?” I offered frantically. “What if I can only do it when I’m asleep? It could be some sort of…reserve activating during unconsciousness…”

“Now you’re getting wild. I don’t know, Patty. I don’t have an answer. Anyway, go take a bath. You smell like dirt. Nell’s in good hands after all—Doc would never do anything to hurt her. You never know, she might come out of the infirmary a brand new person.”

“Hmph,” I snorted, taking off for the baths. If anyone was bound to revive her, I wanted it to be me. I tried the hardest, and I kept with her even though she never responded, save for today. Just because Doc studied medicine and psychology of Drols didn’t mean that he should be the magic cure for everything. 

After cleaning my face free of blood, I fumed alone in the baths for a half hour or so before I settled down and thought of it as done. Knowing that Nell was in different hands than mine still depressed me. I wondered how she felt, if she was scared…I wondered if she thought of me. But in the end of it all, I knew that Doc wasn’t the enemy. If there was anyone in the entire Drolery that Nell could feel safe with, it was him.

I must have been in there for a few hours—my fingers were pruned past recognition. But the water remained heated as long as anyone wanted, so there wasn’t much of a reason for me to escape my getaway. That was, until a knock sounded on the wall beside the screen of the baths.

“Free use,” I murmured just over the water level. My words devolved into bubbles. “Don’t need my permission to come in.”

“It’s me,” Kim said. “Not here for a bath; Doc told me to check on you.”

“I can stay in here as long as I want,” I grumbled. “I could stay in here till I died. No babysitter required.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just the messenger. That’s a good idea though. I might opt for death by bath, because it would be better than death by pool. I wonder if Fay would oblige.” She paused, and I could hear something tapping, probably her foot. “Hey, well, Doc wanted me to tell you that Nell is good. He helped her sleep and prescribed some meds, and he said he’s going to try talking to her when she gets up. Also, the Drolmaster is pissed off but Doc convinced him we did what was necessary. He’s moving you to four-fourteen.”

I shuddered. “Is that the only room available?”

“Yeah, until they repair yours.”

“They’ll probably just block it off with caution tape,” I snorted.

“Do you want me to come in and keep you company?”

I debated about it. In truth, I had assumed myself better off alone. But, as I said before, I rather liked Kim. And since Jeremy wasn’t an option in here, and I felt like dying in the baths, I replied, “Yeah.”

She hurried to Doc to deliver my message of ‘step off’ and then boomeranged back. She filled the round group tub next to mine (since we usually only shared the tubs when there were a lot of us boarding) and sat back in the water for quite some time before either of us spoke.

When she did, it wasn’t anything serious. That was how she started conversations when people around her were under stress, I remembered. “My hair’s going to dry out. I bathed yesterday.”

“Creator forbid dry hair,” I sighed, “of all things.”

“Okay, but when you have straight hair, dryness is manageable. When you have hair like mine…it will look like a cotton ball.”

“You didn’t have to come in here.”

“Yeah, I did,” she rebutted, tying her hair up in a bun. “I just won’t wash my hair. I want to have uniform ringlets when I die.”

I smiled, sank deeper into the water so that my nose sat just above the surface, and closed my eyes.

“I think Janice is a lot like you,” she noted, referring to her Shepherd, a tall beauty with lazy green eyes and a bust to die for. “She wants to keep Drols under her arms like ducklings. Whenever I have to fight, she keeps a first-aid kit close by and tries to cover me too much. I get where you’re coming from with Nell. It’s hard to hand people over to others when you think you’re their best solution.” I made a noise in reply from under the water. “But sometimes people need a little more.”

I opened my eyes again and stared at the ceiling ambiguously, where perspiration dripped from the paint. Suddenly everything everyone was saying about Nell made a lot more sense than what I’d been doing.

I pulled my mouth out of the water and said, “There’s just something about her that needs protecting.”

“Well, yeah,” Kim agreed. “She got dumped like a stray. But there are two parts to protecting her; you, for moral support, and Doc, for med support. One’s just as important as the other.”

“Seems like all my moral support did was make it worse,” I gurgled.

“Could have been worse than it was,” Kim offered. “I think because you were with her, she didn’t go crazy. She could’ve, but she didn’t. You were just doing what you could until Doc came back.”

I thought about it for another half hour at least. By that time, Kim had started to complain about her pruning fingers and toes, so I thanked her and we dried off, dressed and left together. We parted at her room in the middle dormitory branch with a pat on each other’s shoulders, and I headed for one-fourteen on the back hall, which overlooked the courtyard. A volunteer staff team carrying stacks of fresh, folded loaner clothes back to the baths passed me on the way and shot me anxious looks, though I wasn’t sure why. I crashed a room, sure, but it wasn’t anything the laundry team would have to fix.

Four-fourteen was never locked off; people just didn’t go in there. The Drolmaster never put anyone in there unless he had to for overcrowding, and even if we were crowded from new arrivals or season overflows, he would rather have extra beds built and added to rooms of two than use four-fourteen. He could have moved us into an unoccupied room, because I was sure there were some, but perhaps the thought of Lorie’s eventual return unnerved him. She was like an aggressive dog—couldn’t be boarded with anyone else due to safety risks.

Oddly enough, when I opened the door the Drolmaster was in there. I paused in the doorframe and his head popped up at me from where he sat on the left-hand bed. And I doubled back because his face seemed to have lengthened in distress.

“Sorry,” I hissed swiftly, and began to back out.

“No, no need,” he replied, putting a stubby hand out. “It’s your room now. The staff has moved your and Nell’s things here for you.”

I nodded slowly as he folded his hands in front of himself. His chest rose and fell in one large movement, but the sound of his breath escaped silently. I wanted to leave.

“I don’t really need to be in here,” I reassured him, backing out. “I’ll go see Doc instead.”

He blinked erratically and reached for what looked like a few articles of clothing, sitting beside him. A canary yellow dress. Argyle stockings. A white turtleneck. I didn’t know they’d been in the room still. “I’ll let you get acquainted here,” he murmured softly. “A plan is underway to raise a new dorm building next to the main and extend the fence and courtyard—when that’s finished you can move there if you’d like.”

“Nell and I can board with someone else if this bothers you,” I suggested.

“I can’t fit four beds in a room, Patricia,” he reminded me. “And she has to be with you. I know her condition now.” His charcoal pool eyes darted up at me. His hair, normally uniformly slicked back to the point of spy status, had strands fraying out of the mix. “You lied to me that morning.”

I kept straight. “I did what I had to. I don’t regret it.”

“You thought I would force her out of the room,” he assumed.

“With all due respect, sir,” I said lowly, “you told her about Ferris like you would tell her about a sale at the Stop Market. So yes, I did think you would drag her out of the room. Anyway, stay in here if you need to. I should be visiting Doc anyway.”

I turned and abandoned him there. Despite his current situation about four-fourteen, I wasn’t about to excuse the way he treated her. Anything I did was calculated, and whenever I lied to him it was for a reason. If he wanted to punish me for it, he could, but he knew punishment never deterred me from repeat offenses. He could have exiled me from the Drolery, but he wouldn’t, so I supposed I always had that advantage.

The doors to the infirmary weren’t locked when I arrived; they were open. I stood in the doorway neutrally and watched Doc at his desk until he noticed me (or until he decided to respond). Continuing to write, he said, “You’re mad at me.”

I glanced at where Nell lay, hooked up to a machine and a few different tubes. And I declined response, probably because I was mad, or at the very least frustrated, and in the moment my concerns were focused on my roommate and not on him. He must have expected me to reply something, so in surprise he spun around in his chair and slid his pen into his pocket.

“You’re really mad at me,” he laughed.

I met his gaze. And for the sake of a little fun and payback, I glared away. He scooted a little closer in his chair. And tried to find where I was looking, though it should have been obvious.

“She suffered something of a panic attack,” he explained softly. “I lightly sedated and medicated her for her own good; she may have been on the brink of a more serious condition because her body overreacts to stressors. When she comes to again, she should be feeling better.”

Her monitor steadily pulsed. I studied her silently.

“Patty,” he urged, “I haven’t hurt her. You of all people should know that.”

I continued to decline response.

He sighed and stood. “Are you feeling okay?”

I turned the corner of my mouth up as he came closer to me. “You just can’t stand having anyone mad at you, can you?”

His shoulders relaxed. “Well, are you?”

“Kim ironed me out, so no.”

“But you were,” he said.

I blew a raspberry. “I had to sit in here with you for about a month exchanging funny stories to keep sane. Even if I was mad, it wouldn’t have lasted.”

He laughed airily. “I suppose that’s true. In any case, Nell will be fine.”

I bobbed my head. “You should check on the Drolmaster, though. He’s sitting in four-fourteen.”

As I wandered in and pulled up a chair beside Nell, Doc groaned, “I advised him to leave it be.”

Nell’s hand was lax and empty, the fingers crumpled in. I flattened her fingers and curled my hand around them. And it felt strange to do so…like a lock of the eyes, as we had done before. She was my friend, at least I thought so. It seemed appropriate. Doc observed me silently as he sat back down.

“Maybe it’s better for him to be in there,” I suggested, and yawned.

“If there’s one thing Hugh isn’t going to get in that room, it’s closure,” Doc grumbled. “I’ve told him that. He isn’t the type of person who can overcome grief by revisiting places. He’s a talker. He heals through talking.”

“Like he’d ever actually sit down with you and talk about his feelings,” I snorted.

“He used to,” Doc pointed out. “In the last year he abandoned the idea, and his mood and ideals have been a little off since.”

“A little?” I scoffed. “He’s bitter. You can tell.”

“Did he say anything to you when you saw him?”

“Not really,” I replied. “But he’d found her clothes somewhere, and was holding onto them.”

Doc leaned back in his chair and let his head droop backward. “Grand. I hid those under the mattress of one of the beds.”

“You should have just tossed them,” I grumbled.

He shot me a glare. “Don’t you think that would be disrespectful?”

I shrugged. After some time I piled my other hand on top of Nell’s and watched her almost unblinkingly. Probably because of my rate of yawning, Doc eventually said, “You should take a nap.”

I shook my head. “I can hold out until she’s up. Besides, I technically slept all night last night on the grass without noticing. I shouldn’t be tired.”

“That could be hours, Patty,” he grumbled. “And I’m sure the grass wasn’t comfortable enough to allow you a thorough rest.”

I ignored him all the same and propped myself up with my elbows, still holding her hand. I theorized that I was tired now because of Poltergeisting in urgency this morning. I could have been rusty, so exerting power was like lifting weights after a four week athletic break.

Eventually, I came around to discussing what had happened. Doc was sitting around anyway, and rather than let him look over me unnervingly, I decided it would be best to try riddling it out. “What happened last night?” I asked. “How could I do that through Poltergeisting?”

Doc shrugged dramatically. “To be honest, it’s something I haven’t found an answer for. I thought you had sleepwalked, perhaps, but you wouldn’t have been able to lock the door behind yourself or saunter past the staff that overnights the exits.”

“Jeremy was talking about astral projection…” I began, and I considered asking if Doc knew a scenario in which I would be able to do that. But when I thought about it, it was more probable that Nell was the cause. “And he thinks Nell can do it.”

“Astral projection is an added ability that falls under Poltergeisting,” Doc thought aloud. “But never one which comes alone. In order to astral project, Nell would need to be with a Shepherd.”

“That’s what I thought,” I agreed. Doc scratched his stubble and spun himself in circles for a little bit.

“There are always allowances for special cases, because in no way have we discovered everything about all Drols,” he reasoned. “But astral projection just isn’t something that could occur in a Drol alone that we know of. I thought you may have done it, too, but the same principle applies.”

“You don’t think I have some sort of sleep ability?”

“No. Drols don’t display powers so complex apart from their own in sleep. There would be no reasoning behind it.”

I nodded, and both of us puzzled together. “Then there’s the fact that she moved all the furniture in front of the door. When you think about it, she has to be able to Poltergeist. There’s no other way she could have done that.”

Doc nodded swiftly. “She can Poltergeist, there is no doubt.”

We sighed in unison, stumped, and I put my chin down on the bed. When that ceased to be comfortable, I rested my head on its side. And, as if that had been an automatic cue and some light switch in my brain had not only turned off but been ripped off of the wall, my eyes fluttered twice and then closed, and I was gone.