The Invisibles by Cecilia Galante Page A

like a salve. She inhaled deeply, mouth, then nose—once, and then again. Monica and Grace were already up there, their backs resting against a wrought iron railing, legs crossed beneath them. Truth be told, there wasn’t much room to do much else; the entire enclosed space—which Ozzie informed them was called a widow’s walk—was about as large as a throw rug. Butthey were up high. And my God, Nora thought as she stared up at the moon above them—full and yellow as a soft-boiled egg yolk—was this the first time she had ever really looked at the moon? The light around it was a neon blue, enclosed yet again by a thinner, paler line, a pulsing white heat. If she rose up on her tiptoes, she thought, she might be able to touch it. The first line from the novel Catch-22 flickered across her brain: “It was love at first sight.” And it was. Right here, right now, she felt something stir inside her that she hadn’t even known was there. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.
    Ozzie sat down next to Monica, motioning for Nora to do the same. Nora settled in between Grace and Ozzie, her knees touching theirs on either side. “Everyone here?” Ozzie asked. “Monsie, me, Grace, and Nora.” She hesitated, looking at Nora. “That reminds me. I looked up your name last night. It’s Greek.”
    Nora felt something tense inside.
    â€œIt means ‘light,’” Ozzie said. “Isn’t that cool?”
    Light. Nora couldn’t imagine Mama ever feeling anything close to lightness when it came to her. She’d barely used her name at all, in fact, referring to Nora most of the time as “girl” or “you.” Nora turned the word over inside her mouth. Light. She liked the feel of it, small and smooth, like a marble. Or a jewel. Something waiting for just the right moment before it exploded into a million fractured pieces of energy. She nodded, smiling shyly at Ozzie.
    â€œWhat’s your name mean?” Grace asked Ozzie. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard it before.”
    Ozzie straightened up. “It’s a male name.” She surveyed the group with a quick glance, as if daring any one of them to laugh. “It’s Hebrew,” she went on. “And it means ‘strength.’”
    Monica nodded in satisfaction. Grace raised her left eyebrow and then lowered it again. Nora grinned. As if the word could mean anything else.
    â€œOkay then,” Ozzie said. “Let’s start. Rules first.” She grabbed a notebook sitting off to the side and handed it to Monica. “You want to read, Monsie?”
    Monica pushed her orange bangs out of her face and cleared her throat. The light from the moon cast a soft glow over her face, blurring her pudgy features, softening the scraggly edges of her hair. “Rule number one: Never speak of the group outside of this circle. To anyone. Ever. Rule number two: Members must always bring something of themselves to share at every meeting. Rule number three: Stick wishes are private, unless a member wants to discuss them with the rest of the group. No stick wish—no matter how weird—will be judged. Failure to abide by any said rules can result in immediate dismissal.” She looked up. “Okay, that’s it.”
    Grace frowned. “What the heck is a stick wish?”
    â€œHold your horses, jumpy,” Ozzie said. “Those come last. Is there anything anyone wants to add?”
    Grace shook her head.
    â€œHow about you, Nora?”
    Nora hesitated, bringing her fingers to her earlobe. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring something up at the first meeting. Especially if you were new. And you didn’t talk.
    â€œGo on,” Ozzie urged. “I can tell you want to say something. You’re part of the group now. You can tell us.”
    Nora flicked her eyes at Ozzie and then pulled out her pencil. “What about a