Chapter 20

Nick awoke bleary-eyed and tired, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, scrubbing away the dream of kissing the Gypsy girl—Chaton. As he readied for school, he decided he wanted to talk to Cat about his vivid and detailed dreams.

He entered the school through the big double doors. He had seen the foyer hundreds of times, but today, his mind superimposed another image—a long hallway lined with pictures of men with handlebar mustaches, wearing uniforms decorated with rows of metals and pins, the plaques by each picture etched with the names of these men and the year. Nick blinked, but still the image stayed. Holy Cow, there were dates from 1902, 1865, and even farther back! The glass cases held trophies and ribbons for horsemanship. Was he looking at Laketon’s cases filled with football, basketball, and baseball trophies? No, this was Cadre Noir. Horse heads adorned most of the trophies.

He stood there, rooted in place until the hallways began filling with students. The Cadre Noir displays were significantly more impressive and told the story of the men and boys who worked and learned here.

Someone bumped him. He turned, expecting to see Bryan, but whoever it had been blended in with the crowd rushing by.

As much as he tried pushing the images away, they stayed with him until World History. Nick fidgeted and daydreamed, his heart pounding when he thought of Chaton with the fancy skirt, wondering why he had seen it puddled at her feet at one point. Had they made love? His palms began to sweat, and he rubbed them on his jeans.

He was relieved when it was time for World History. “Tell me how we met,” Nick whispered as he slipped into his desk next to Cat’s.

She didn’t seem surprised and tilted her head in response. “We met when you were a student at the cavalry school. My family group was camped on the Loire River.”

He remembered a line of wagons encircling a bonfire in the middle of the camp.

“We called ourselves tsiganes, or as you say, Gypsies, or Romas. We came from Romania many centuries before.” She paused when Bryan passed them, banging his leg into Nick’s desk.

“Oh, so sorry, esteemed Reverend.”

Nick rolled his eyes as Bryan took his seat. Even Bryan couldn’t bug him today, and Cat continued.

“My people picked up and moved from place to place.”

Cat’s voice was low. Nick leaned closer to hear.

“We needed money to buy food, so we were entertainers, musicians, and dancers, with a few mystics and healers thrown in. My mother was one such healer.”

A red skirt, hair flying in the wind, a raven caught in the undercurrent. Laughter. Exhilaration. A multicolored skirt flowing and flaring around bare legs.

“You were looking for something the first time we met, but you stayed to eat,” Cat continued.

“A dog?” Nick asked. “I was looking for a dog?”

“Yes,” Cat affirmed.

As Nick listened, he felt a chill run up his spine. The dream, the one he had last night, was real.

“We had rabbit stew,” he answered, still recalling the savory meat and vegetables, mushrooms swirling in the eddies of the roiling broth.

“Du ragout de lapin, oui?” Cat questioned.

“Je me rappelle,” he answered. I remember.

He gasped, his breath strangled with realization.

“Nick?” Coach Sullivan asked. “You all right?”

He coughed behind his hand. “Yeah. I just need some water.”

Coach waved his arm toward the door, and Nick hurried out to the drinking fountain. He drank deeply and slapped some on his cheeks.

He came in and took his seat again. “Maybe we should talk later.”

She nodded.

The coach started his lecture, and Nick sat motionless, his body still, his mind racing. He needed to act normal. And what was normal exactly? He looked the same on the outside, but on the inside, he was becoming a different person. He didn’t know how to act. The “new” Nick scared yet fascinated him.

****

At lunch he sat with Em, Tiffany, and Gary while Cat sat at a far table by the window, only Veronica going over to say hello to her. Should he invite her to sit with them? He glanced at Emily, who was telling Tiffany about shopping for shoes. He cleared his throat and motioned toward Cat. “Should we invite her to sit with us?”

No one said anything, and Emily looked stricken.

“I’m just asking,” Nick said.

Emily hung her head. “If you want.”

“No, what does the group want?” Nick asked.

Gary shrugged. “I don’t care. She never talks to anyone except you and Veronica.”

Tiffany glanced over at Emily. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“Em?” Nick used his forefinger to lift her chin. “I’m just trying to be friendly. It doesn’t mean anything.”

She sniffed and gave him a minuscule nod.

He walked over to where Cat sat. “Would you like to sit with us?”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your girlfriend doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“Thanks—” Cat smiled. “—but maybe some other time.”

“If you change your mind…” He walked backward for several steps before turning and rejoining his friends. “She wants to be alone,” he said as he plopped down.

Tiffany clasped Emily’s hand. “Finish telling me about shopping for shoes with your sister.”

Emily blew out a sigh. “It doesn’t seem so funny now.”