Grasping at Eternity (The Kindrily)

by Karen Amanda Hooper

  Dedrick stalked over to me. “Very noble and unassuming of you, Nathaniel, but I hope your precious family is ready. We have the troops required to gain control of who comes into this world, and we’ll dispose of those we no longer want here—including any uncooperative Elements.”

  His plan sounded more calamitous than any of our kindrily suspected. I had to alert the others as soon as possible. I waved at Marcus, motioning for him and Audrey to leave the boat. “We will consider our options thoroughly, but for now, we are leaving.”

  Marcus took his piggy-back stance and Audrey climbed onto his back while staying focused on the five people she kept paralyzed. Marcus took several steps backward so that he and Audrey were hovering in the air above the river beyond anyone’s reach.

  I mentally assessed the logistics of our situation. James was still keeping time and people frozen around us, yet Audrey had him paralyzed. Was her paralysis only physical and not mental?

  Dedrick pulled out a cigar. He lit it, took a puff, and blew a cloud of smoke in my face. Quietly, so no one but me could hear him, he said, “If you and your kindrily join my cause, I’ll tell you what I told your sweetheart right before she killed herself. Then you’ll know why she erased.”

  My fist crashed into his jaw before I could think it through, but I observed every detail as if in slow motion. My knuckles meeting his jawbone sent his cigar flying through the air. He fell to the ground. His skull hit the boat deck with a loud thud. He was on his back, trying to roll to one side while clapping at his drones, but Audrey kept them paralyzed.

  “That was for Mary.” I pressed the heel of my boot against his throat and leaned into it with all my weight, crushing his windpipe. I bent down so he’d be sure to hear my threat. “We will kill you before we ever partner with you.”

  Audrey yelled my name, but at the same instant, my back felt like I’d been hit with a hot branding iron. I turned around to see Argos holding a bloody dagger.

  “I’m sorry, Nathan!” Audrey cried out. “I couldn’t hold him.”

  I staggered backward, but not before stomping Dedrick’s ribs.

  “Go!” I shouted to Marcus and Audrey, but they hovered close to the boat. The other four Nefariouns were struggling to move, twitching and jerking, but no one else broke free. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “No,” Marcus argued. “Not until you traverse out of here.”

  “Finish him!” Dedrick shouted, pointing at me. “Don’t let him off this boat alive!”

  Argos stalked toward me, the muscles of his arms rippling, intent on striking again.

  Fire raged through my back, but I forced a smile. “We will meet again, Argos.” Knowing he could hear my thoughts, I silently told him, Next time I’ll have an old friend of yours with me. The one person in this world who will do whatever it takes to bring you down.

  He braced himself, preparing to slash me again, but by the time he swung his arm at my chest, I had vanished.

  DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS

  Maryah

  Dream-version Nathan looked tired, or worried, or stressed, or an overdose of all three. He sat on Dylan and Amber’s couch staring at the Christmas tree. Molokai and Baby Hilo were in the dream too, and snow fell outside, just like before I went to bed. Molokai was on the couch beside Nathan. He petted her and kissed her on the nose.

  “Ha.” I grunted. As if Nathan would be that sweet.

  Molokai’s focus locked on me and she whimpered. At first Nathan didn’t react, but then she jumped down and sat in front of me. She barked once, wagging her tail as she looked back at Nathan. He watched her, but didn’t say anything. She raised her front paws like she wanted to put them in my lap and Nathan’s green eyes grew wider.

  He slowly rose to his feet, glancing around the room then walked over to the Christmas tree. He looked in my direction and curled his fingers like he wanted me to come closer. “Merry Christmas, Maryah.”

  Why did my dreams feel so real?

  He reached forward, removed a crystal peacock feather from the tree, and held it between us. He glanced up at the star tree topper and sighed. “I don’t know what I miss more, you or my sanity.”

  I waved my hand in front of his face to see if he responded, but his eyes were shut tightly.

  “All I want to do is protect you,” he said. “No, that’s a lie. I want you back, the old you, the you who knew everything.”

  An urge to touch him overwhelmed me. I moved closer, close enough to feel the body heat radiating from him.

  He opened his eyes but stared at the ornament in his hand. “You’d be able to figure out what Dedrick is planning. I feel like war has been declared, and I’m helpless to stop it. I can’t do this without you.”

  As usual in my ridiculous dreams, I had no idea who Dedrick was or why I’d be imagining Nathan talking about war, but he looked so vulnerable. I raised my hand, reaching for his face, but he turned and walked away. A huge brown circle covered the back of his ripped shirt. Panicking, I looked at Nathan’s jacket, still draped over the arm of the couch. Sure enough, it had dried blood all over the inside.

  Mikey, I told myself. I’m dreaming about blood on his shirt because my mind is still traumatized from seeing Mikey get stabbed. The real Nathan wasn’t bleeding, and he certainly hadn’t been standing in Amber’s living room saying he missed me.

  Molokai trotted along behind me as I checked the next room and glanced up the stairway, but Nathan was nowhere to be found. He had vanished into thin air.

  “Stupid dream,” I mumbled. Molokai barked at me.

  I woke up and let my eyes adjust to the dark room. Molokai was barking downstairs, so that explained why I dreamed about her. I hated that I felt so drawn to Nathan in my dreams.

  A beam of moonlight danced across my ring. I took it off and set it on the nightstand. My brain really needed to find something to dream about besides peacock feathers and Nathan.

  Amber apologizing for Nathan earlier didn’t mean much. It’s not like he was apologizing. How could I forgive him if he never made any attempt to tell me he was sorry? Maybe his bloody back was a warning not to get close to him or he’d hurt me again, or stab me in the back. I wondered what April’s dream dictionary would say.

  I flipped onto my side, fluffed my pillow, and tried to forget the whole stupid thing.

  ∞

  Waking up to the sound of a metal shovel grinding against concrete was comforting. It reminded me of snow days in Maryland when my father would clear the driveway and sidewalk before Mikey and I went sledding.

  Then I remembered it was Christmas morning, and my heart sank. I stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I could survive Christmas without my family. I wanted to run into Mikey’s room and bounce on his bed while shouting for him to wake up so we could open presents, but that would never happen again.

  I sat up to look out the window and see how much snow accumulated overnight, but I froze with shock. There, hanging from the lock of Nathan’s bedroom window, was the glass peacock ornament from my dream.

  I pinched the skin on my wrist as hard as I could, but nothing happened.

  I was awake and the ornament was real.

  After rushing downstairs and searching the couch and living room for a bloody jacket, and finding nothing, I realized I had a better chance of finding Santa and his reindeer. As if any part of my dream could have been real.

  Louise—or someone—would be awake and freaking out if Nathan had been injured so severely, and he wouldn’t be sneaking into my room to hang an ornament in my window. The feather must have been hanging there since I arrived—I just failed to notice it.

  I’d never been the most observant person in the world.

  NAME CALLING

  Maryah

  We arrived home from Colorado late on New Year’s Day. All the madness needed to stop. New year, new rules.

  No more obsessing about crazy dreams. No more self-indulgent Nathan naps. Creating some fictitious alter ego for him ju
st because he was hot was not healthy—or normal. My dreams were bordering on stalkerish.

  The next morning at school, River stood outside our English class chatting with two screaming-for-attention brunettes. His faux-hawk looked more defined than usual.

  “How were the Rockies?” he asked, turning his back on the devastated groupie duo.

  “Nice. We had a white Christmas.”

  “Cool.”

  I scanned the classroom and hallway. “Where’s April?”

  “I’m guessing she’s not coming today. We broke up.”

  “What? When?”

  “New Year’s Eve.”

  I gasped. “Why?”

  “I wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

  “Why didn’t anyone call or text me?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t want to bother you while you were on vacation. So did you see Nathan while you were there?”

  “What?” I glanced at April’s empty seat. She was probably crushed.

  “Nathan. You know, the loner reject you don’t get along with.”

  “Oh. No. He wasn’t there. So tell me what happened. Was April upset?”

  He turned to go inside. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  And he meant it. I passed him several notes during class, but River wouldn’t say another word about it.

  April wasn’t in history class either. I thought about calling her after lunch, but I didn’t need to. She was standing outside the cafeteria doors, so I made my way through the crowd to make sure she was okay.

  “How could you do this to me?” she shouted.

  I looked around. She couldn’t be yelling at me.

  “What?” I asked baffled.

  “You pretend to be my friend then you steal my boyfriend!” A few people glanced in our direction.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t play all sweet and innocent!”

  “April, I—”

  “There I was feeling all sorry for you about your parents and your brother, spilling my guts to you about my mom, listening while you rambled about all your stupid psychotic dreams, and the whole time you were being two-faced and trying to dig your claws into River.”

  “April, I don’t—”

  “Save it, Maryah! I’m not falling for any more of your lies.”

  A large circle of students formed around us. I’d never experienced so many people staring at me. My heart raced. Why was April screaming at me about River? I had nothing to do with their breakup.

  She ripped Mikey’s hat from my head then put her face close to mine, practically spitting on me as she talked. “Tell me,” she hissed, “do your precious dead parents know what a lying, backstabbing whore they raised?”

  I honestly don’t remember what happened next. It was a blur of rage.

  The next thing I knew, Faith had me tight in her grasp, and Harmony held April. We were both flailing and swinging our arms at each other.

  Faith’s voice rang out through the chaos. “Maryah, control yourself! It’s over!”

  My eyes frantically scanned the area. The sleeve of my gray thermal shirt had been torn halfway off. The vice principal walked toward us, and Mikey’s hat was nowhere to be found. The audience around us scattered.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Vice Principal Shupe asked.

  “She attacked me!” April shouted.

  I couldn’t think straight. My body was trembling. My breaths came too fast.

  “Is this true, Miss Woodsen?” he asked.

  I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t remember attacking April, but I couldn’t remember anything. April’s lip was bleeding, and her hair was a mess. Did I really fight my friend? I’d never been in a fight!

  “In my office—now,” Shupe said.

  An hour later, Louise arrived at the office to meet with the vice principal. I’d been suspended for two days.

  We walked to the car in silence. I held an icepack against my face where a black eye was forming, but mainly I wanted to hide the disgrace I felt.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, two minutes into our car ride.

  “What are you sorry about?” Louise asked calmly.

  “That I got suspended.”

  She stayed silent.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” My guilt grew thicker by the second.

  “What would you like me to say?”

  “I don’t know. Yell at me. Punish me.”

  Louise sighed. “Would that help you find peace?”

  “Huh?”

  “If I punished you, would that help you be at peace with your actions?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “I didn’t think so, but if you thought it would help, I would try my best to appease you.”

  This wasn’t going anything like I’d expected. I’d been bracing myself for a long lecture. “My parents would kill me if they were here.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Louise chuckled.

  “Trust me, my mother would crucify me for fighting.”

  “Your mother understood no one is perfect.”

  “Ha. My mother must have changed a lot since you knew her. She wanted me and Mikey to be flawless. Not that I blame her, considering how perfect she was.”

  “Would you like to hear a story about your mother?”

  I adjusted my icepack and pain bolted down my cheek. “Sure.”

  “When we were kids, your mother made up some dramatic stories.” Louise shot me a reluctant glance.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother had a vivid imagination, and she thrived on attention. She wanted life to be exciting. When it became too dull, she created her own drama. At times, not realizing that her stories or elaborations could hurt people she cared about.”

  “My mother was a liar?”

  “Quite often, yes.” Louise laughed. “But eventually she grew out of it, and I’m pretty sure everyone lies a few times in their life.”

  “I guess that’s true.” I studied my bruise in the visor mirror. April packed one hell of a punch. The whole left side of my face was swollen. “Still, a few lies when you’re a kid doesn’t compare to getting in a fight and being suspended.”

  “Well then, how about another story?”

  “I don’t know. Are you going to tell me more bad stuff about my mom?”

  “Good and bad is a matter of perception.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “Many years before you and Mikey were born—before she met your father—your mother was a dancer.”

  “Yeah, she and my father loved to dance.”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.” She looked at me over her hippie shades. “Exotic.”

  “WHAT?” I gasped. “No way. My mother would never do that kind of thing.”

  Louise swerved her head to one side. “Maybe not now, or for the past twenty years, but I assure you, she did that kind of thing many years ago.”

  “Oh. My. God,” I stammered.

  “In her defense, she never danced nude, and she didn’t give into the temptation of drugs or obsessive drinking. It was simply a job to her, a means to an end. She didn’t let it corrupt her or define her as a person.”

  I couldn’t believe Louise just used nude and drugs in a statement about my mom. “She should have told me.”

  “She wasn’t proud of it, and it’s certainly not the kind of thing you want your children to know about you.”

  “Yeah, but she preached to me about self-respect and preserving my innocence. She said I should wait to have sex until I’m married. What a hypocrite!”

  “That’s what parents do. We think if our kids know how imperfect we were, or how many bad decisions we’ve made, they’ll think it’s okay to do the same. We don’t want our children to learn the hard way.”

  “Just because she made stupid choices doesn’t mean I will!”

  Louise turned the radio off. “Before any
of us are parents, we are first and foremost humans. All humans make mistakes and bad decisions. As we get older, we hope to make fewer, but when we’re younger, we live in the moment without worrying about the consequences.”

  “Still, an exotic dancer! What was she thinking?”

  “She needed to pay for college. The job paid well, and left her time to study.”

  “She didn’t even graduate college!”

  “Yes well, sometimes life happens, and we end up traveling a different path than we planned. It may not have been the most virtuous time in her life, but if she hadn’t made the choices she did—including the supposedly bad ones—she may have never met your father.”

  I paused, not making the connection between my mother’s undignified career choice and her meeting my charming father. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s how they met. Your father was here on a business trip, and he and some co-workers visited your mother’s bar outside of town. It was love at first sight.”

  “My parents met while my mother was stripping!” All these years I’d been hoodwinked into thinking my parents had exceptional morals and manners. Now it made total sense that my mother was a liar.

  “Oh, she disliked the term stripping.”

  “Well if the stripper shoe fits.” I was shocked by my own catty, River-like comment, but I should’ve suspected something like this. I mean, how many mothers own a lingerie store? “So my father, what’s his real story? Was he in prison or something?”

  “No, nothing like that. His only issue was smoking pot.”

  My eyes bulged. “My father was a drug addict?”

  “I wouldn’t label him an addict. He simply strayed down a meaningless path for a short time.” Louise smiled. “See, this suspension thing doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

  “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “Do you think less of them now that you have this knowledge?”

  I thought about it. My parents’ past shocked me, but I didn’t think less of them. They were the same loving people who gave me a good life.