The sudden passing of eighteen-year-old Lily Hamill's grandmother causes Lily to return to her Nana's bizarre hometown of Willowbrook after a ten-year absence. There she meets a strange boy named Marcel, who offers her a mysterious parting gift inte...
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We sat together on the floor in Marcel's bedroom.
His room was upstairs in the furthest part of the house from the master bedroom downstairs where his grandmother slept. We didn't want to risk waking her by watching movies in the living room.
Between us we had a large bowl of popcorn and several unhealthy snacks. The screen in front of us glowed with images of science-fiction horror. Even though most of the movies we watched were old, I still found myself wanting to look away from certain scenes. The cheesier scenes were great, the both of us would laugh at them until we had to laid on our sides to stop.
At one point we paused the movie all-together and found ourselves gazing up at his bedroom ceiling. It was painted out like the night sky. Most of the things that decorated Marcel's room were either related to space or video-games about space.
"You're amazing, Lily," Marcel breathed the words out while he laid on his back.
I didn't expect him to say something like that at all.
"I know," I joked with him.
In all seriousness though I had felt bad about not remembering him. "Marcel? Did you remember everything from when we were kids?"
He nodded. "Yes, everything."
I rolled from my back onto my side and studied his profile. "How come I couldn't remember a single thing about you, but the more I'm around you the more memories I unlock?"
He tilted up his chin and his features looked so soft when he spoke. "The mind is a complicated thing. Humans might understand how the brain works physically, but mentally is another story."
I nudged the popcorn bowl back towards his bed so I could see him better. His eyes were so very dark. There was no hint of light in them at all. I'd never seen someone with black eyes before, dark brown sure, but not as dark as his. It looked so strange with his pale complexion and messy blonde hair.
"You talk like you aren't human," I mumbled.
Marcel twisted his lips with distaste. "The more I learn about people and how they feel or behave, the more different I feel from them. Sensing what people feel or knowing what they are thinking isn't normal. Avoiding physical contact with people because I'm scared of the images it puts in my head isn't normal. The way animals or certain objects respond to me, isn't normal. Some people in town are scared of me, and others beg me to heal their kids or communicate with their dead loved ones."
