Page 56 of If You Could See the Sun
My heart thuds louder in my ears.
Vanessa was there.Isthere.
Carefully, one hand still pinning Henry in place, I sneak a quick glance out at the crowd again. Vanessa doesn’t seem to have spotted me. She’s standing next to a tall wiry guy maybe a few years older than she is; someone I’ve never seen before. The university student.
It must be him.
The two of them linger a few beats longer before turning in to the French-style bakery café on their left, their figures soon obscured by the colorful display windows.
I release a small sigh.
All I have to do now is turn invisible and follow them inside. I’ll need close-up evidence; photos of the exchange taking place, pictures of the university student’s face, and the artwork involved.
“Er... Alice?”
Henry’s voice comes out muffled through my palm, and only then do I realize how close we still are. How easy it would be, in our current position, to stand on tiptoe and tilt my head just so and—
I lurch back. “Sorry,” I apologize hastily, bringing my hand back down. “I was scared she’d see us.”
“No worries.” His tone is equally dismissive, nonchalant, but the tips of his ears are a deep pink.
Or maybe, in his case, it really is just the effect of the glowing screen.
“I should turn invisible now,” I say out loud, more to fill the silence than anything.
“Indeed.”
An awkward beat passes. Then another.
Nothing happens.
I keep waiting for the familiar chill to descend over my body, wash over me like a bucket of ice water, for the hair on my arms to rise, but all I feel is...warm. Whole. Flushed from my proximity to Henry, from the way he’s looking at me, his lips red in the places I pressed my fingers to; from the ballad still playing in the background, the soft piano notes tangling together, the vocalist singing throatily about love and loss and want and how it feels to be truly seen.
And I’m just standing here, as blatantly visible as ever, my shadow falling firm over the pavement at my feet.
“Perhaps you can try again later,” Henry suggests after about fifteen minutes of this. “Take a break and whatnot.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head fast. “There’s not enough time—for all we know, she’s probably already taken the art—”
“Then let her.”
I gape up at him, uncomprehending. “But that means—then I’llfail the task—I can’t justfail—”
“Well, it seems like this isn’t something you can control at present.”
He’s right. He’s right, and it’s horrible. My powers have never been the most reliable, I know that, but to have them abandon me at a time like this, when Vanessa isright therein that café and I’ve traveled all the way here, feels like the worst possible betrayal.
“Come on.” Henry waves a hand. “Even if you do turn invisible in time, we might as well walk around while we wait.”
But I don’t turn invisible that night. What I end up doing instead is following Henry down the length of the crowded road, watching the screen glow and change scenes every few seconds, from a vast stretch of ocean to an ancient Chinese palace to a phoenix unfurling its fiery wings. He buys this inflated disk-like toy thing from one of the vendor carts parked outside a busy Zara shop, and even though I’m half-convinced he only wants to see me fumble with it and laugh at me, I try throwing it up in the air. It flies much farther than I thought, carried along by a mild breeze. We take turns with the disk afterward, until it inevitably becomes a ridiculous, intense competition to see how far we can throw, and soon I’m yelling at him to mark out the exact spot the disk hit the ground because IsworeI won that last round.
And I almost forget about Vanessa and the art scandal and turning invisible at all.
I’m too busy watching the screen’s green-blue light move over Henry’s skin like water, the challenge set in the sharp line of his jaw as he makes his way back to me.
Is this how it feels?I wonder as I throw the disk up high again and watch it soar, weightless, over the heads of happy families and giddy teenagers, friends drunk on a wild night out. To be someone like Chanel, like Rainie, like Henry? To come to a place like this on any old weekday and just...have fun? Justlive,without worrying about opportunity costs and paying out school fees?
I’m still thinking about this on the quiet car ride home, my fingers poised over my phone, a half-finished message typed out on the screen.
