by Emme DeWitt
I crinkled my nose, and Mags followed suit.
“Exactly.” Mags let out another sigh. “It’s not like Landing kids have always had a target on their backs. That’s been more recent. Some weird things have happened on campus in the past year, and they always point the blame at the black sheep.” Mags shrugged.
“I’ve heard. Vaguely.” I surveyed Mags. Her narrative was dancing around the true topic. I could tell she was leading me in slowly, but I felt impatient. My headache was not getting any better, and I honestly wanted to go hide in my room for the rest of the day.
“Yeah, they don’t even bother whispering anymore.” Mags cleared her throat. “The Landing has another legacy. It’s housed, shall we say, particularly gifted students since the inception of the school.”
“Gifted.” I latched onto her euphemism. Finally, we were getting somewhere.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, people are not always as they seem.” Mags paused long enough to point a huge nonverbal finger in my face. “They can see things others can’t. Or can feel things.”
“Or do things, yeah I got you.” I tried not to sound too blasé about it.
“Right.” Mags shrugged again. “Most of those gifted kids get it from their parents, so they know a little something about it as they grow up. Then there’s always the ones who are the first in their families to show the talents or who don’t have family around to teach them how to handle their gifts.”
“And which category do you fall into?” I asked, pushing to the heart of the conversation.
Mags chuckled. “Little bit of all of those categories, like yourself.” Mags held my gaze.
My eyebrows floated up lazily as I tried to conceal my absolute shock. Of course, I couldn’t hide everything one hundred percent, but I thought I’d done a little better job than that.
Unless Mags had a way to get that sort of information from my entry papers. It wouldn’t take a big leap to read my psychiatric files, my school records, and even the letters from the board to piece the puzzle together. That is, if you were looking for that sort of puzzle.
“The thing about families, even if they fall on the gifted side, is that a lot of times they aren’t able to help you learn and grow into your own. They’re a little too close to it, you know?” Mags moved her hands to grip the sides of the armrest she was perched upon.
“What, is the Landing some secret training ground for the next generation of so-called gifted kids?” A derisive snort escaped me before I could pull it back.
“Elevated,” Mags said, “is the technical term.”
“Elevated,” I repeated. “And is it normal for so many Elevated kids to be clustered in one school? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“It’s not like we rip a hole in the universe if we’re in the same time zone.” Mags waved away my concern. “It’s better we’re all together and can help one another. It sucks trying to get a handle on your Elevated senses when you’re too busy trying to remain hidden. We look out for one another, like today in class. Evangeline saw you needed help and stepped up without hesitating. Dodged a real bullet today. Could you say the same if you were all on your own?”
“So you and Evangeline are Elevated.” I ticked people off on my fingers. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say Adair.” I paused for confirmation, and Mags gave a quick nod.
“Who else?”
“Well,” Mags said. “That’s where it gets tricky. Not everyone is as community minded as you or I. The ones I know about tally to just over a dozen. Some are more advanced than others. Some probably won’t ever really come into their senses like you and I already are.”
“What does that even mean?” I pushed, demanding more. Mags seemed to be showing more and more of her hand, and I was going to get the whole story, even if it took all day. If she wanted to pretend we were on the same side, I wouldn’t dissuade her. Not until I knew what was really going on around here.
“So everyone in the world has basic senses, right? Sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, sense of time, and so on,” Mags said. “But those of us who are Elevated are able to transcend the different planes of existence in one way or another. Each plane has its own balance. For instance, what we call the vitality plane deals with the life cycle. Creation and entropy. Some Elevated people who are more on the life end of that spectrum can heal, or revitalize, while others can hasten a person to their death. Those are only some examples of how those energies get manifested. There’re as many different versions as there are flavors of Ben and Jerry’s.”
“How many planes are we talking?” I asked, both guilt and curiosity warring in my mind for so desperately wanting to hear the answers.
“Eight.” Mags took in a deep breath and held it. She looked up, seemingly lost in thought for a moment as her eyes lost their focus.
“Mags?” I prompted after several minutes of silence.
She was frozen across from me, her arms losing their grip as she slipped farther down the rabbit hole.
I lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders just before she keeled over face first onto the floor. Her body didn’t want to balance itself, and I didn’t know how long she would be out of it. Slowly, I let her legs fold under her and eased her to the ground. I pulled her legs out in front, leaning her against the row of seats.
Crouched down at her eye level, I surveyed her slack face. Her posture and open eyes reminded me of a creepy life-size doll. I squinted at her eyes, noticing the green one had dulled slightly, remaining out of focus. The clouded blue eye, however, had brightened considerably, and I thought I could see a flickering of light shining through it. The fluorescent lights above us caused a sickly glare, though, so I wasn’t sure if something really was going on in Mags’ dead eye or if I’d imagined it.
Mags gasped for air, her arms jerking at her sides in surprise.
“Damn,” Mags whispered, shaking her head clear. “Hate it when that happens.”
“You all right?” I asked, still crouched over her protectively.
“Yeah, fine.” Mags waved me off. “Happens all the time.”
“I see what you mean, about the helping each other out part.” I indicated her spot on the floor. Mags looked down in surprise. “You went a little Raggedy Anne on me.”
“Oh, creepy.” Mags shivered. “I hate dolls. Ugh, sorry to do that to you.”
“Hey, now we’re even.” I shrugged, retreating to grab my bag.
“We’ll pick this up later, okay?” Mags said, her mind already elsewhere again.
“You okay?” I asked again. My gut was telling me something had shifted, but not having any idea what had really just happened, I didn’t have any real evidence of a problem.
“Yeah, I just can’t be late.” Mags checked her phone again pointedly.
I knew a lie when I heard one. Not wanting to press her, I let her off the hook. I doubted she would tell me the truth right now anyway.
I walked up the shallow steps toward the exit, hoping the dining hall still had some food available for a quick lunch. I’d dawdled too long with Mags and her weird Intro to the Elevated Life lecture. A niggling thought itched in the corner of my mind, and I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Hey, real quick.” I turned to face Mags, who was messaging someone on her phone. She glanced up, still distracted by the unfinished message in her hands. “What’s Adair’s gift or whatever?”
My mind recalled the searing pain I’d felt in the dreamscape. Whatever it was, I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.
“Adair?” Mags asked, returning to her phone. “He’s Elevated in the Unconscious. He can manipulate dreams, like the Sandman. I think the technical term is a dream walker.” Mags’ mouth muddied the words at the end, as if she was talking to herself. Her attention was so focused, she let slip more detail than I’d expected.
A cold sensation pooled in the bottom of my stomach. Someone who could influence your dreams. What did that mean for my dreamscape? Was Colm safe?
“Elevated in Entropy. Very rare. You’re a Harbinger, more specifically a banshee. That’s just speculation though, since no one’s witnessed you firsthand,” Mags muttered again, frowning at the keyboard beneath her fingertips.
“And what’s the square root of 144?” I asked, testing the boundary of the odd psychic encyclopedia that had temporarily possessed Mags.
“Twelve,” Mags replied, her reverie broken. She sneezed, making me jump back out of the way. “Whew, that was a good one.” Mags shook her head, and the fogginess that had taken over when she’d been messaging had finally been lifted.
“Ready to go?” I asked innocently, inclining my head toward the door.
“Yeah, let’s jet.” Mags trotted ahead of me and out of the lecture hall. “I’ll find you during free period. You can borrow today’s notes.”
“Sounds good.” I watched her run off across the quad toward the administrative building. I paused in the archway of the lecture hall entryway and surveyed the cloudy afternoon sky.
Even knowing I wasn’t the only weirdo around wasn’t the comfort I always thought it would be. Something had been going on at Windermere before I’d arrived, and I felt late to the party. It would take a lot more digging to find the rest of the story. Between Colm stuck in my daytime dreamscape, the warnings from both Sean and Aileen, and the odd feeling I got from the pauses and unspoken words between Mags and the other Elevated students, I was seriously considering myself at the greatest disadvantage I’d ever experienced in my life.
And to think, only three and a half more semesters until graduation.
Thirteen
On Saturday, in the doorway of a dusty converted broom closet that doubled as Ms. Xavier’s office, I waited for either my punishment or the dust mites to kill me. What little space the built-in bookshelves saved was overtaken by the piles of books balanced precariously on virtually every other surface. It definitely felt more like a storage closet than an office, but it didn’t really matter where I was. I was stuck for the next eight hours.
I’d knocked politely on the outer door, waiting the requisite count of three before entering anyway. A note with instructions greeted me on one of the many towers of books. I recognized the handwriting from the chalkboard, even though the note was unsigned.
Please catalogue the volumes on the desk. You’ll find a fresh pack of notecards and several pens in the desk drawer. As soon as you’re done, please categorize them according to relevance.
I flipped the note over, looking for a postscript. According to relevance? Relevance to what?
With a heavy sigh, I dropped my bag on the floor, my dreams of completing my homework dashed. I was impressed Ms. Xavier didn’t even show up to her own detention to make sure I was there. Based on how the students reacted to her, I could only assume her reputation for being a strict teacher had some ground. No one must dare skip out on her detentions.
I eyeballed the stacks of books piled almost to my height on the desk and tried to estimate how many volumes I was working with. After I surveyed the stacks, I grabbed my phone and earbuds. No other rules expressly prohibited them, and I didn’t want to lose my mind alphabetizing ancient texts to the soundtrack of my own breathing.
The books multiplied the more I pulled them off the two desks and onto the floor. More and more seemed to come from every corner, even squeezing themselves spine up between other towering piles. I popped my head out into the empty hallway, checking both ways before deciding on my working strategy.
I piled the books according to alphabet grouping along the wall outside the small office.
Systematically, I grabbed a pile of books, hauling them back into the office to refine their alphabetizing, fill out a card with the basic information, and lug them back out into the hallway for the next batch. After several piles, I started to enjoy the monotony. My arms ached from the abuse, but I could visibly see my progress. It felt like meditation.
In the middle of writing a card, my fingers spazzed, making me drop my pen. It rolled under the desk to the point that even my long leg couldn’t retrieve it. I got on all fours, reminding myself on loop not to hit my head on the low-hanging desk.
A pair of green orbs greeted me, and I forgot my chant.
My head struck the underside of the desk hard. I howled in pain, cursing nothing in particular. My hand found the pen, and I snatched it up. The eyes followed my every move. Even in the darkness of the closet, I could see the cat’s tail flicking back and forth merrily.
“Laugh all you want, Little Satan,” I growled at it. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”
The tail paused. The eyes disappeared slowly, only to reappear just as slowly.
Yet again, I was getting out-sassed by a cat.
“Blink blink to you, too,” I muttered darkly, crawling out from underneath the desk. I brushed myself off and plopped back into the chair, trying to recoup the zen focus I’d been practicing before the cat threw me off my game.
“How’s it going?” a soft voice spoke behind me.
I jumped again, this time hitting my knee on the underside of the desk. Without even seeing the cat, I could feel it laughing at me as I bit back another string of curse words.
“Gah, who doesn’t knock?” I howled, rubbing the pain away from my bruised kneecap. I swung my rage around to find Evangeline in the doorway, holding a coffee in each hand.
The smell reached me about the same time I recognized the dining hall disposable cups.
“I come in peace.” She lifted the coffees emphatically.
“I didn’t know I needed a coffee so badly until just now,” I murmured.
Evangeline walked over, setting the cups down before fishing into her pockets for a handful of granola bars.
“Here, figured you could use a break.” Evangeline handed over a granola bar before I could grab the coffee. “Food first. Your hand will keep seizing up if you don’t eat something.”
“It’s just from overuse. It’s been a while since I’ve had to handwrite this much,” I said.
“Yeah, I can tell.” Evangeline peered over my shoulder at my growing mountain of notecards.
“My handwriting is beautiful,” I argued, trying to hide the messier ones. “Or it was in the beginning.”
“Mmhmm,” Evangeline hummed, taking a sip of her own coffee.
“Shut up,” I said dismissively. I lifted the coffee. “Thanks for this, by the way. Perfect timing.”
“It’s a gift,” Evangeline said with a grin. It faltered as I stiffened at the word.
She sighed heavily, sitting down on a pile of hardcover encyclopedia volumes I’d been working through. Her petite frame left her leaning more than sitting so her feet wouldn’t hang off the ground. I wouldn’t have trusted the Dr. Seuss constructed pile with my whole weight either.
“Mags needs to keep her mouth shut about other people’s business,” Evangeline said. “And she definitely needs to work on her speech. Using the term gifted is just stupid and confusing.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” I said, desperate to continue the normal charade a little longer. I cradled my coffee protectively, not wanting it to be un-gifted.
“And I’m not going to pretend like I know you or your situation any better than you do either, unlike some people.” Evangeline rolled her eyes. “But if it makes you feel better, I’m not the one who can see the future. I will throw Mags under the bus on that one though. That’s all her.”
“So when she goes all limp?” I asked, picturing Mags’ limp doll posture in the lecture hall a few days before.
“She’s getting a vision, yeah.” Evangeline gave a dismissive wave. “Hers is so textbook, it’s almost boring. Nearly every Elevated sap on the temporal plane is an oracle one way or another.”
“You sound like you know a lot about this Elevated thing,” I hedged, taking a long pull of my coffee.
“Little bit,” she admitted with a shrug. “And at the same time, very little at all.”
I nursed my coffee, taking a long look at Evangeline. Something seemed very off-putting about our conversation. It was almost too comfortable. This was not the girl who ran away from me on my first day. Even when it had just been Mags, Adair, and me, Evangeline had clammed up and spoken very little. For having such intense social anxiety, she seemed too normal to me right now.
“About that,” Evangeline said. “It’s a little more complicated. That’s why I don’t like Mags speaking for me. I like to do it in my own way on my own time.”
“What?” I asked, pressing the coffee cup to my pursed lips. Had I said that out loud?
“This,” Evangeline waved at herself, “is my natural personality. When I’m by myself, this is one hundred percent me. It’s when I’m around a lot of people that I freak out and bolt. If I can’t run, I sit tighter than an oyster making a pearl.”
A laugh escaped me as I thought how ridiculous the analogy was.
“Thought you’d enjoy that one.” Evangeline smiled into her coffee.
“I know I said I wouldn’t pry into your business earlier, but—”
“You need to know if I can read minds. Or if I’m like one of those mentalists who is really good at reading body language,” Evangeline said, taking the thought directly from my mind.
I crossed my legs, letting my agitation out in the bouncing of my foot. “Something like that, yeah.” I cleared my throat.
“The answer is a little more complicated. Like I said, I don’t know everything either. I’m still figuring myself out. Beyond knowing the plane I’m on and how I experience the world, that’s about all I know definitively,” Evangeline admitted. “Here.”
She reached over and grabbed a blank note card and my pen. She drew a square, then rotated the card and repeated another square. It looked like an oddly geometric eight-sided star.