by M. K. Easley
After the last bell on Friday afternoon, Beckett removed his burgundy blazer, burgundy and gray striped tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and slung his backpack over one shoulder. After confirming with his football buddy, Jason Dalton, that he’d be at the party being thrown by Matteo Cosgrove that evening, Beckett made his way to the lake, which sat adjacent to the Academy, in the opposite direction of the football field. The school had installed wooden benches intermittently around the lake’s perimeter, which was also dotted with trees and flowering bushes. Beckett sat on the first bench he came across, his back to the Academy, and he waited.
Only a few minutes had passed when he sensed Tristan coming rather than heard her. It was an odd experience, one he hadn’t had before, and he turned to see Tristan, still a good distance away, looking surprised that he’d spotted her. As quickly as the surprise had registered, however, her face settled into its usual neutral mask. Once Tristan had reached him, she dropped her backpack on the bench beside Beckett and sat, pulling out a black binder. Her hair lifted away from her shoulders in the gentle October breeze that blew across the lake, the golden brown strands catching the late afternoon light, glowing like they’d caught fire.
“OK,” Tristan began, flipping through the pages of notes she’d handwritten, oblivious to Beckett’s observation. “So our first task is to pick a subject that we’re going to build our project around. We should pick something that points toward an eventual career that can also have community service incorporated into it. My first thought would be an English teacher or tutor, but I feel like everyone is going to pick that. What do you think?”
Beckett stared at her, his eyebrows raised.
“What?” Tristan asked, somewhat defensively.
“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that we were gonna be jumping in with both feet here.”
Tristan gave him the same look she’d given him when he’d mentioned not using the school’s library, the one where she appeared to be trying to suss out whether he was serious, stupid, or messing with her.
“Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“It is.” Beckett grinned. “I just didn’t realize it would be all business and no small talk.”
“I don’t small talk,” Tristan said shortly, briefly shaking her head as she looked back at her notes. “I was also think--”
“But small talk is, like, the cornerstone of human interaction.”
Tristan looked up at Beckett again, very clearly trying to hold her temper.
“And our senior project is, like, the cornerstone of us graduating.”
Beckett was full-on smiling now, which made Tristan want to hit him across the face with her binder.
“You don’t want to be my friend, Tristan?”
Tristan ignored the weird little feeling that jumped up in her stomach when Beckett said her name. His eyes had casually skimmed over her face as he spoke, and Tristan could feel heat creeping up her neck.
“I am not here to make friends. I am here to study, and to get good grades, and to graduate, and, with luck, to get out of Lavelle. I’ve made pretty good progress on that goal so far, and I’m definitely not changing course now. Especially not for you.”
“Especially not for me? Ouch,” Beckett said mildly, his gaze still friendly. “You don’t even know me, but OK. Today I’ll accept your rejection. I have to warn you, though, it’s gonna be tough for you to not be friends with me. I am pretty charming.”
“Clearly,” Tristan said, her voice ice cold. Her eyes flickered over him in a way Beckett assumed was supposed to be acrimonious, but all it did was add fuel to his fire. Before she looked away, Beckett could have sworn he saw the very, very faintest quirk of her lips, but when he looked again, she was stone-faced.
“We can choose any topic, as far as I know,” Beckett said, pulling out his own notebook and opening it. “It doesn’t have to be related specifically to English. I agree most people are probably gonna go the easy route of English teacher and maybe tutor, but I kind of like both ideas. What if we did ESL teacher or tutor?”
Tristan pressed a pen against her lips, thinking, and Beckett looked away across the lake. He did want to be friends with her, did believe she would eventually come around, and didn’t want to scare her off by staring at her mouth like a creep, even if it was a very kissable mouth.
“I like it,” Tristan said finally, nodding and looking surprised. “Lots of avenues for exploration and community service. So do we go teacher or tutor?”
“Let’s go teacher. Not that tutoring is not something you can make a career of, but there is more credentialing involved with teaching. The community service aspect will be built right in if we can land tutoring jobs here or in the next town over, too, so I guess we do get to incorporate both after all.”
Tristan nodded again.
“OK. So should we meet here on Fridays and bring whatever we’ve gathered throughout the week? We’ll touch base and sort through the materials, see what overlaps and what we can fit together?”
“Fine by me.”
Tristan stood, shouldering her backpack.
“By me, too. I’ll see you Monday then, Beckett.”
“See you Monday.”
Beckett watched Tristan go, wondering what it would be like if she’d hung around, wanted to spend time with him for more than just a school project. He realized, as she disappeared around the building toward the parking lot, that he was kind of crushing on Tristan Wallace, which was both surprising and not surprising, considering how captivated he'd always been by her. Telling himself that his crush was in vain for multiple reasons, not the least of which was Tristan’s clear dislike for him and the fact that they’d both be graduating and going their separate ways come June, Beckett slowly gathered his things. He laughed to himself as he headed towards the parking lot to his car -- he’d never listened to his own good advice, and he wasn’t going to start now.
***
“Trinity?” Sol’s voice floated up the stairs later that night, and Tristan poked her head out of her bedroom.
“Yes?”
“Dinner.”
Tristan made her way downstairs, into the formal dining room where her parents were already seated, ready to eat. Olivia and Evander were nowhere to be found, as usual.
“Hi honey,” Sol greeted, sweeping her long, pale blonde hair behind the shoulders of her red cardigan.
“Mom, Dad,” Tristan greeted, sitting to the right of where Umbris was seated at the head of the table.
“How was school?” Umbris asked, as they began to eat. His dark eyes, Tristan’s eyes, studied her face, and Tristan arched an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“What?” Umbris asked innocently, raising a wine glass to his lips.
“Trying to read me without even waiting for my answer? School was the same as it is every other day.”
“You met up with the Benson kid after class, we saw,” Umbris commented, and Tristan glared at her parents.
“You were spying on me? Seriously?”
“You’re never late coming home. We got worried. We weren’t spying, honey.” Sol’s voice was maddeningly calm, always was. Tristan could not think of a single time in her entire life that Sol’s timbre had risen above soothing, almost musical.
“You could have, I don’t know, called me? Like normal parents would?”
“Why would we call you when we could just check in on you?” Sol asked, and Tristan thought about throwing her dinner plate across the room, just to get a reaction.
“That won’t be necessary,” Umbris said calmly, and Tristan groaned.
“Oh my gods. Where are Oceana and Ember? Why do I have to sit through this alone?”
“Some party. Matteo something or other. Cosmo? Cogden?”
“Cosgrove. Really?” Tristan asked, wrinkling her nose.
“They seemed to be under the impression that everyone would be there,” Sol replied, her slate colored eyes studying Tristan over the rim of her wate
r glass.
“Everyone? Unlikely. All of the insufferable popular juniors and seniors? Probably. It will always be a mystery to me why Oceana and Ember waste their time on those people.”
“Well, they’re not like you,” Sol said, setting her glass down silently. She smiled serenely at Tristan. “How is our scholar doing so far in the year?”
“Fine. The course load is hefty, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’ve always had a mind for information,” Umbris nodded, looking proud. “You’ll be an asset to the community once you’re free from high school.”
Tristan looked down at her plate, pushing food around with her fork. She concentrated on sealing off her thoughts, which was the extent of how she used any ability she had these days; this topic was one she preferred to avoid with her parents. Her growing sense of panic over leaving Jamestown Academy just to do nothing but marry off and start breeding was all the evidence she needed that the life Sol and Umbris led was not the life for her. Over the summer, she’d applied to several colleges, near and far, and she dreaded the responses starting to come in. She knew that Sol and Umbris would ultimately support whatever she chose, but Umbris, at least, made it clear what his preference for her was, and she hated the idea of letting him down.
“Speaking of the community,” Sol said, just as Umbris opened his mouth to speak again. “Next Saturday night is the monthly gathering. You know this, but I expect you’ll be there, along with Oceana and Ember.”
“Of course,” Tristan nodded.
“We’ll also expect you three to stick around here and retire early on Friday night. You’ll need to get as much sleep as you can.”
“I know,” Tristan said, finishing her dinner.
“I know you know,” Sol replied. “What you don’t know is that this month’s gathering is in a new place -- the Crenshaws have offered to meet up with us when we get there. I understand Celes is looking forward to seeing you again.”
Tristan forced a smile, but said nothing.
“He really is very nice,” Sol said, looking carefully at Tristan.
“Yes, he is. May I be excused?”
Umbris nodded, exchanging a look with Sol. When Tristan had disappeared up the stairs, Sol spoke.
“She’s unsettled.”
“She’s sealed her thoughts, too.”
“I guess we should have expected this sooner or later,” Sol sighed. “I thought we’d get lucky since we made it this far.”
“Do you think it has to do with the Benson kid?”
“It could. It could have to do with a lot of things.”
Sol was almost certain she knew what it was, at least in part. She was an expert at reading nonverbal cues, but she didn’t have to be an expert to notice the slight slump of Trinity’s shoulders, or the tense lines that developed around her mouth whenever they brought up her future in the community. Sol and Umbris expected Trinity to immerse herself in the community, to build a life there, as that was what they and their ancestors had done before her.
From birth, children of community members were granted a place that held for them until they graduated high school; after graduation, they'd be taken in by the network of neighbors around Louisiana and offered opportunities in their preferred field of work, relocating based on where they'd be hired. The females were still expected to marry and reproduce young, but the law requiring it had been abolished years ago. Most families in the community gave their children no choice but to walk their predetermined path, but Sol had told Umbris long ago that it was something she would never force upon her children, and that if he wanted there to be a their children, he would agree. It was her only condition before she’d consent to marry him, and Umbris had complied.
As a teenager, Sol had suffered the grisly, public death of her sister, Adara, after Adara had rebelled and tried to sever ties with the life, as part of the community, that their father, Orion, had chosen for them. Orion had been ruthless, and Adara had been made into an example, and it was a trauma Sol had carried with her ever since. She’d never shared the details with Umbris -- who had not been there for the execution due to caring for his dying mother -- and planned to keep it that way. Should Umbris try to go back on the vow he’d made to her, however, she’d find the strength to speak of it.
Chapter 2
Tristan opened her bedroom window and leaned on the broad sill, her knees on the long bench that ran below, watching as the small bit of sun that was still visible through the trees sank beneath the horizon. The comforting sounds of her backyard filled her bedroom, and the sky slowly changed from blue-gray, to fiery red-orange, and, eventually, to dusky purple. Halloween was in six days, and the evenings were slowly starting to cool down, though the days were still blazing hot. She rested her chin in her hand, trying and failing to keep her thoughts from wandering to Beckett.
There was something unsettling about him that went deeper than his declaration that he’d accept the rejection of his friendship today. She knew he’d meant well, could tell that his intentions were good, so it wasn’t an unease over the idea of future interactions with him. More than feeling unsettled, it rattled Tristan that she couldn’t identify what exactly it was about him that was making her feel the way she felt when she thought about him. You don’t want to be my friend, Tristan? He’d drawled, and Tristan’s stomach swooped again at how her name had sounded leaving his mouth. It had sounded... intimate. Familiar on a level she’d never experienced with anyone, let alone Beckett Benson. The week between their project assignment and their meeting at the lake, Tristan had noticed Beckett staring at her as they passed in the hallway, or when he should have been paying attention in class. For not the first time, she cursed the fact that she did not have Olivia’s ability to read thoughts; sure, Tristan could pick up on someone’s vibe, but that did her no good when what she really wanted to know was what they were thinking to themselves when they thought no one could hear. More frustrating still was that Beckett hadn’t even pretended he wasn’t looking at her when Tristan had stared back at him pointedly -- he’d just smiled and turned his attention back where it belonged.
A deer entered the yard below, and Tristan watched it idly. She spent most weekend nights contentedly cocooned in her bedroom, studying or reading or watching TV, oblivious to whatever her peers, including her siblings, were up to. She didn't have any social media accounts, didn't care to give Emmeline and her crew one more avenue through which to harass her, and she didn't usually feel like she was missing anything for it. Until now. Now, in the privacy of her room, with her thoughts sealed from her parents, she let herself wonder what Beckett was doing, if he was thinking of her too or if he'd left her and any thought of her at school.
Tristan focused on the deer's neck, where the tawny fur changed to white, staring until her vision began to blur at the edges. The doe lifted her head, sensing something in the air had changed, and stood stock still, her satellite ears twitching.
Tristan closed her eyes. Blackness swirled in her mind, forming a funnel of energy that quickly produced an image of a handsome face with a pair of vibrant eyes and a confident smirk. Suddenly, the eyes looked right at her, slamming the energy back towards her so hard that Tristan gasped, opening her eyes and grabbing the windowsill so she wouldn't tumble backwards. The deer ran off like a shot into the wooded area beyond the yard.
***
“Beckett!” A voice boomed right next to his ear, and Beckett blinked, turning his head to find Jason not two inches from his face, his hands cupped around his mouth. The noise of the party roared back to life, and Beckett almost winced at how loud it was.
“Dude, where were you?” Jason asked, hitting his shoulder.
“I don't know,” Beckett responded truthfully, trying to shake off the dazed feeling that had settled over him. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” Jason asked. He held his red plastic cup out in front of him, shaking his head and widening his eyes. “Am I too drunk
, or are you not drunk enough?”
Beckett forced a laugh, standing up.
“It's me. I'm gonna get a drink, I'll be back.”
Beckett made his way to the kitchen, trying to figure out what had happened. One minute he'd been shooting the shit with his football teammates, and the next… The next? A noise had distracted him, a low-pitched whistling like a wind tunnel was in the next room. He'd focused on it, trying to hear better, but the harder he listened the fainter it'd become. And then he'd seen something -- a deer? And then he'd seen Tristan, her hair long and loose, her eyes burning as black as ember. It was almost like a vision, but she'd been more alive, like if he'd reached out he would have been able to touch her, to feel her skin against his hands. He probably should have felt scared, nothing like this ever having happened to him before, but in the moment he'd been unable to do anything but stare. Beckett had sought Tristan's gaze with his own, but as soon as their eyes had locked, Jason had interrupted. What the hell had that been?
Someone bumped into him, and Beckett snapped back to attention, reaching out to steady the small figure.
“Sorry--”
“--Oops, my bad!” Olivia Wallace looked up at him, her strange gray eyes flickering with recognition.
“You OK?” Beckett asked, and Olivia nodded.
“I'm fine. Yourself?”
“Fine. Hey, you’re Tristan's sister, right?”
“Right. Why do you ask?” Olivia looked at him suspiciously.
“No reason. She was assigned to be my senior project partner in English class, that's all.”
Olivia's shoulders relaxed.
“Sorry. I get defensive when people ask me about her, I guess.”
“Such a good sister.” Emmeline spoke from behind Beckett, sidling up next to him before he could reply.
Olivia raised her eyebrows briefly, but said nothing to Emmeline.
“Can I do something for you, Emmeline?” Beckett asked, looking at the hand she'd snaked around his arm.