Chapter 82
Anthony felt his face turning red and reached out to touch an unkempt curl.
He had no choice but to experience the sense of being an outsider, but he did not have to experience the emotion of being a loser. He didn't have to let it get to him. He had grown much since then. Anthony, you are forceful and incisive. Remember.
He kept his eyes on the girls as they went around the outside of the gymnasium and eventually made their way over to the area where a group of lads and girls were warming up on the strip. One in particular drew his attention to it.
She was the tallest of the group, and her silver hair was coiled into wild curls that fell into his face whenever he smiled.
"Stay away from the gloves at all costs. I repeat. Not the gloves," Sasha joked, but Anthony was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he almost missed what she said. He could hear ringing in his own ears, and he could feel blood rushing to her head. There is something that is so recognizable —
Anthony became ice cold.
She was struck on the arm by Sasha. "Hello? You listening? What on earth, Anthony?
Anthony was unable to provide a response. He was too preoccupied with glancing at the girl across the crowded auditorium who was standing on the far strip. Now that he could see her face, he recognized it immediately. He was able to recognize her. It was completely improbable, but then again, that was how this girl had always been.
Because he was the one who did it. Him. Celine Dupont. Tattoo Girl. The girl who appeared in his fantasies.
Anthony had no doubts about it. It could only have been her. She was in the immediate vicinity, standing directly in front of him. Standing on the opposite side of the gym from him and having a conversation with his friend.
"Sasha." Anthony's mouth was so dry he could hardly form words. "There." He was unable to tear his eyes away. He has arrived. Now. And I'm awake. This is not a hoax. This is currently taking place.
"What?" Sasha appeared to be perplexed. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, that is she. "Céline," Anthony inhaled deeply. The room was squeezing in on him and contracting as it did so. He had an instantaneous fear that he was going to black out and pass out.
Sasha relaxed. "Does this have anything to do with Tattoo Girl?" She gave an expression of feigned disbelief by shaking her head. She grabbed Anthony by the arm and shook him. "Is he unable to be seen? Do you stand alone in seeing him? Is he trying to communicate with you through his mental abilities? Are you able to smell his blood, just like in those movies about vampires?
"Sasha. I'm not joking. Look at it for yourself. Anthony rummaged around in his backpack, eventually extracting his tattered notepad from among the bottles of water and the fencing gear. As was the case with the most of the people he encountered in the shelters, he brought practically everything he owned, which wasn't very much.
Now he flipped through the pages till he came across a drawing of Celine that was a passable approximation. Just one of many examples.
"This." Anthony presented his close friend with the smeared charcoal portrait he had just completed. "Look. This is the same individual."
"What?" Sasha gave the page some attention. "Hey. You have a lot of talent as an artist. Why don't you ever show me what you've got? She raised her head. "Is it possible to have this? Or, if you're up for it, could you draw me a picture of Shawn?
Anthony gave a satisfied eye roll. "I'm not going to talk about the picture right now. Take a gander at that one. Her. "He's the one with the disheveled hair." Sasha looked all the way across the gym to where he had pointed, which was the farthest strip. After that, Sasha cast another glance over the sketch.
Anthony stayed attentive as she examined both of the photographs. "Am I not completely insane? Sasha?"
Sasha did not provide a response.
But Anthony was well aware that it was in fact him, and he had no reason to dispute it. It was the first time in his life that he was under the impression that he was staring at the genuine Celine Dupont.