Kei

  Haley leads the way, and we descend into darkness.

  She pauses in the deepest shadows, and waves desperately in the gloom, as if trying to attract something’s attention. Then lights suddenly blaze to life around us.

  “Sorry,” Haley says over her shoulder. “The motion detectors aren’t very sensitive.”

  The now cheerily lit staircase now looks warm and inviting, rather than the descent into the underworld it felt like when pitch black. We walk faster, and soon the door opens into their private float spa.

  Three huge floatation tanks dominate the room, one on the right, one on the left and one dead center in front of us as we walk in. They are round and white and perfect with the promise of peace and forgotten lifetimes.

  “Showers are over there,” Haley says, pointing to an open doorway on the far right side of the room. “There are towels.”

  I take it all in with a slow blink. “This is… a lot.” They’ve basically turned the whole basement of their house into a floatation spa, so I assume most if not all of them float, and regularly. Enough that being able to accommodate three floaters at a time made sense to them.

  “There’s an intercom inside, in case you need anything,” Haley says, walking up to the central tank and lifting the front lid. “It sounds in the kitchen and the library, so someone will definitely hear. And we’ll be getting you to school soon anyway, so don’t waste time.”

  “I won’t,” I say, peering into the tank and glancing at the controls.

  “You remember how to use these?” Haley asks with a slight frown of concern. She’s not being snarky. More curious, really.

  I nod. “Absolutely.” And I know it’s true. I’ve been in this model of tank more times than I can count. Especially since I can’t remember the specific instances right now, but I know they’d be uncountable if I could.

  Haley smiles. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She turns towards the stair, and pauses. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. At least some of it,” she says seriously. And then she is gone, feet treading up the stairs back to the waking world.

  Whereas I have a date with my dreams. And hopefully, my memories.

  ***

  I lay in darkness and silence, freshly cleansed from my shower, awaiting whatever fugue state lurks in this quiet place. I begin to breathe slowly, deliberately, and invite the shadows at the edge of my mind… in.

  ***

  Dante and I sit in our class, and I’m seeing other kids for the time since my Dad drew me from the waters. Except Dante himself, of course.

  We’re playing chess again. Or rather, we’re walking along a few boards set up on a table, making moves. A redheaded girl follows along behind us, making moves of her own. Sometimes I think one side is making more moves than the other, but it never matters.

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  Everyone is playing, and no one.

  The room has a lot of plants, and a lot of toys, and I pick up a soft, plushie purple dragon and hug him unconsciously.

  Dante has a cat, and I’m envious. I think for the first time ever. He says it’s really his grandparents, but he gets to pet it all the time. He lets me pet it when we visit.

  He says I should ask my Dad for a kitten. They’re even softer. Dante is smart.

  But I already have a puppy. I wonder if they’ll get along. Puppy likes my plushies, so they should. A kitten is just a live plushie that purrs. That’s what I told Dante.

  He says their classes used to be like Montessori, which is apparently what we do now, except with more toys. Dante says the toys got here right before I did.

  “Good morning, class!” Kerry is there in the doorway. She is dark and pretty and tall and so smart. She’s old, too, like eleven or something. Her grandmother is coming in behind her, who’s also Dante’s. Nana Elle, or just Miss Elle to the rest of us.

  Dante’s Nana holds out a handful of fluttering colors and says, “Pick one!” to the whole class. We rush in, and start picking our favorite colors.

  Dante’s gets deep blue, and I grab deep purple. Soon we’re all holding long, soft velvet ribbons. The colors change as they move in the light. The rich velvet tickles our hands and faces as with play with the feel of them.

  “Very good,” Miss Elle tells us. “Now everyone take your ribbon and settle into a bean bag.”

  We rush to our favorite spots along the wall, and bean bags rumble with the sound of tiny hopping kids. There are giggles, but our eyes are drawn back to Miss Elle. She has a way of keeping our attention whenever she wants it.

  Kerry has dragged up a padded rocker from somewhere for her Nana, and she settles into it with a tiny smile.

  “Run your fingers along it,” Miss Elle says, holding up a sky-blue ribbon. “Feel how soft and smooth it is. And tell the person next to you what it’s like.”

  We chatter. I love my ribbon, and the girl next to me, Andi, has a silver one the same color as her eyes. Then again, Brynn, on the other side of me, has one the same color as her eyes, which shift through every shade of the rainbow. My purple hair and eyes feel so ordinary sometimes, but Dante and the others tell me they aren’t. They’re nice.

  “Mine feels wonderful,” Miss Elle tells us, one hand holding up the length of ribbon while the other brushes along its bright-blue length.

  She whirls the sky-blue tassel effortlessly through the air in a spiral which draws all our eyes.

  “Now,” she proclaims, “I’m going to make my breathing feel just like this ribbon.” She lets the spiral fall, but runs her fingers along its soft length. “All velvet smooth. No stops between breathing in and breathing out, just velvety smooth endless breath…” she draws out the word. “Just like this.” She draws in a slow, deep breath, and we see her chest slowly rise and fall. And her ribbon is once more a spiral, fast enough to hold its form yet somehow seeming slow as it hangs in the air.

  And Miss Elle is breathing in a slow, deep, satisfied way, her breath in flowing into her breath out in one continuous, smooth movement. Inhale, exhale, it’s all one thing now, her breath, and she’s clearly enjoying it.

  The spiral falls, now twirling from the fingers of her right hand as it traces a circle just above the carpet.

  “Hmm,” Miss Elle says, still breathing in that slow, continuous, perfect way. She’s running her fingers down the blue velvet, not so much to still its rhythm as to enjoy the feel of it. “That makes me feel as smooth and soft as this velvet.” She looks up from the ribbon, and gazes straight into my eyes. “Now, Kei. Can you breathe all smooth and soft like this? As smooth and soft as your velvet?”

  I nod, and I do.

  The others watch me, and begin breathing like me in turn, even before Miss Elle asks, “And what about the rest of you?”

  We breathe, and I feel like a perfect piece of ribbon in royal purple, just like the one in my hands. A minute passes, then another.

  I’ve never seen the others so still.

  But I pay no attention to them, or anything else, until I hear Kerry’s gentle voice asking, “Now, Kei, does any part of you not feel all velvety smooth? Any part of your body at all?” I shake my head. I could be floating in the sky, or the waters where my father found me, I feel so peaceful.

  I sense rather than see her nod. She quietly asks, “Andi?” And my eyes flicker open long enough to notice the other girl tap the center of her chest, over her heart. Kerry steps closer to her, and I hear the soft murmur of their conversation. Miss Elle is asking others the same question, but I don’t hear her.

  Because now I do feel something strange, deep inside me. Not bad, but cold within the warmth.

  I listen to Kerry encouraging Andi, and breathe through the cold, hard place inside me. The part that doesn’t know about kittens, or laughter, or Dad talking to me as he makes dinner or walks me to my classes. The cold part of me that doesn’t feel like it’s part of me, but lives there anyway.

  I breathe, and my icy core begins to flow, icicles of strangeness sliding through me, oozing into my arms and legs. My warmth mingles with the cold, and ice becomes ice water and then cold springwater.

  I keep breathing. The classroom fades away, and I live in each breath, in the coursing coolness cascading from my core, in the warm light in my breath and my heart rising to meet it.

  The breaths flow together, inhale-exhale-inhale – an endless cycle, a wheel spinning without ceasing.

  Finally my nerves tingle with electricity and my skin with a brisk chill. And I sense the coldness, for now, has merged with me and subsided.

  And I wonder what that means.

  Accepted. The voice in my head is clear, calm and amused. And then it is gone, the lingering chill in my chest fading as if the coldness itself has gone back to sleep.

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