Black and Blue

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  I swore, unbuckling myself. I reached out, wanting to shake her, comfort her. But that’s what had started this situation in the first place.

  “Dawn,” I said. “Dawn! Hikari.”

  She blinked once, twice, and then I heard her breathe in one long, half-gasping breath, through her own cupped hands. And then, she dropped them.

  “I’m s-sorry,” she said, eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know—”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. The car’s fine. Let’s just try and calm down. Breathe.”

  Before you have a panic attack.

  “Fine,” Dawn said, closing her eyes, breathing in and then out. “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” I paused before speaking again. “You know this connection with Calypso. It was bound to come with a few side effects. But I didn’t think—”

  “We just need to wait for Dana.” Dawn said, eyes still closed. “Until then, I should keep my distance.”

  “What? Dawn I don’t know if you being alone is the best idea right now.”

  “I’m fine,” Dawn said again, then fumbled for her safety belt. “I just…need to get away.”

  “Wait, what?”

  And with that, she pushed out of my car and walked toward the row of apartment buildings next to us, not even stopping to close the door behind her. I swore, fiddling with my own seat belt, then bolted from the car, trying to catch a glimpse of that bright red scarf.

  Instead I saw bright red hair, and a red and black cape as Dawn launched herself into the air. Away from my car, from me. Toward a home I didn’t even know how to find.

  “Fuck,” I swore.

  Yep, still felt pretty shitty.

  I twisted at the waist in front of the bathroom mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of what I could only assume was a bruised-up back, only to wince in pain about halfway. Guess I didn’t need to see that to know that I was still pretty fucked up. With all the running around yesterday, I had managed to loosen up some, but there was nothing like spending the night on a crappy mattress to make you feel stiff as shit.

  Not that I was doing much better on the inside. How could Dawn just shut me out like that?

  Not that I could do much to help. I stared at my big hands as they gripped either side of the white porcelain sink. Dumb and strong. That’s what I was, all right. No way to fix whatever was going on up there. That was a job for Dana.

  Didn’t change the fact that it felt wrong to leave her alone.

  A note dangled in front of my face. Now that I was less concerned with checking the state of my back, I saw that my name had been written across the front in black. It was in Claire’s handwriting, probably written in eyeliner, knowing her.

  I snatched it from the glass.

  Hey Big Bro! Heard you scared the shit out of Caron. Great job! For your reward, I’m taking the bus today.

  Meaning the car was mine. I felt a smile spread on my lips. It was awful nice of Claire, given that she had to hit up work after school, but there was no denying that it would be a helluva lot easier to get over to the Forgers if I didn’t have to take the bus.

  As I crumpled up and threw away the paper, I couldn’t help but feel a different ache. My mom used to leave notes for me on the mirror when I had been younger than Claire. Pretty basic stuff like “Science project!” “Please pick up your sister after soccer practice,” and “Please, please no fighting today!”

  Well, basic for me, at least.

  I exited the bathroom, almost colliding with Mariah, her hand raised in a telltale knocking position.

  “Hey, Mariah, what are you still doing here?” I asked.

  I was a late riser, so by the time I got up, both of my sisters were usually at school. Mariah was dressed for her internship, maroon-colored scrubs and all.

  “I was just about to head out,” she said, adjusting her purse strap. “Only—oh, my God, your back!”

  Mariah reached for me, trying to turn me toward her. I shook her off.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Just tripped and fell on a patch of ice. It’s been cold in the mornings lately.”

  “You should let me look at it. After all, I’m going to school to be a nurse—”

  “Which is exactly where you need to go right now,” I interrupted. “You know you can’t be late.”

  Mariah opened her mouth, then shut it again.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I wish you…” She shook her head. “There’s a woman here to see you.”

  “A woman?” I asked.

  Could she mean Dawn? But if that was the case, Mariah probably would have said “girl.”

  As Mariah headed out, I headed back to my room to find something more presentable than a pair of pajama pants. I opened my dresser to find it completely empty—fuck, I suck at laundry—leading me to dig through the piles of clothes on the floor. Fortunately, the first pair of jeans and T-shirt passed the sniff test. With that, I headed downstairs and to the kitchen.

  As I stepped through the door, the first thing I saw was a dark-haired woman looking straight into my refrigerator. I felt my jaw clench at the familiar silhouette.

  No. This wasn’t Dawn at all.

  She turned around at my approaching steps and let out a wide smile.

  “Alex Gage,” Amity said. “I heard that you were looking for me.”

  15

  Dawn

  Now that I knew my dreams were being invaded by Calypso’s memories, it was easier to pick up on it.

  I stood at the doorway of a school, or at least, what had once been one. The brick walls were covered in graffiti, the basketball hoops were missing their nets, and the playground had been invaded by an army of weeds. Yet it was the sound of laughter that met my back, and I—no, Callie—couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Half of her wanted to jump into whatever game they were playing while the other half wondered, now that she was twelve years old, if she was too old to play with them.

  “I know this must be boring for you,” a white woman said to me, in a voice that was soft and consoling.

  I met her gaze, and the shock of it almost jerked me awake. Because she was Calypso, but just as clearly not Calypso. She was several years older, for one. You could see it around her eyes and mouth. And she was a little heavier, although not what I’d call overweight. But she had the same gorgeous blond hair, arranged into curls, and pale-green eyes. Her skin had more of a tan, and I wonder if Calypso’s would have too, if she’d spent time outdoors.

  Mother, my memory supplied. This was Calypso’s mother.

  “It’s fine,” Callie said, her gaze wandering to the side.

  Only to have her mother reach out and gently move it back to center. I could feel her dry fingers beneath Callie’s chin as if they were my own, and how Callie resisted slightly as her mother made her look upward and into her face.

  “Callie, you must remember to look people in the eye when you speak to them,” Callie’s mother said, not unkindly. “Refusing to let people know that you see them is like denying their existence.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Callie said, looking her mother in the eye.

  Callie’s mother dropped her hands.

  “You can go off and play. But don’t get your dress dirty. I need to talk to Mr. Forger here.”

  Callie felt her cheeks go red as Mother turned and walked back into the abandoned school. Go off and play. It sounded so…childish. She was growing up now, wasn’t she? Almost a teenager? Wasn’t that what they were here for? She knew it had to do with her great-grandfather, who, in life, had supposedly possessed the ability to talk people into doing anything he wanted them to. Mother spoke about him all the time, believing the stories to be true. And now she had found a group of, well, weirdos, who believed her.

  Then there were the kids…

  A group of younger kids, the oldest around ten years old, ran by her as she crossed the yard. She looked past them and to the playground, where a trio of girls, two white, one black, stood beneath the basketball nets, their heads ducked
toward something in one of their hands.

  Callie swallowed. Time to make friends, right? It was something she was both good and bad at, thanks to how she looked. Her beautiful hair, her clear skin, the fact that her mother already let her wear makeup. There was power there. Power that drew in some of the girls and made others boil with resentment.

  That power extended to boys too. Sometimes men. Only in different ways. And Callie…Callie didn’t know what to make of that yet. But she knew she didn’t like it.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the gaggle of girls. When she drew close, she could see that they were her age, or a little older. Maybe even old enough to be in high school. Their excited voices grew clearer.

  “And I’ll be able to use it to call my boyfriend when we get settled into the new community,” the girl in the center said, her straight, blond hair pulled back with a pink, fuzzy scrunchie.

  “Yeah, they probably knew you’d just end up hogging the line the entire time,” another girl with long red hair replied.

  “Shut up!” The girl in the center said, shoving the other girl a little harder than Callie thought necessary.

  It was then that she caught sight of what the girl in the center was holding. It immediately impressed Callie. That the girl would be allowed to own, to afford, something so shiny and new.

  Her thoughts were completely at odds with how I felt to seeing clunky, plastic, brick of a cell phone, bright pink or not. It was strange to think of what was considered “new technology” just twenty years ago.

  “Is that the new Nokia phone?” Callie asked, guessing that the girl would be pleased to see someone preening over her device. “I’m so jealous! I asked my dad for one and he said no.”

  The three girls turned to her as one, and their faces fell.

  “Who’s that?” The third one, a black girl who stood a good head taller than the other two, said.

  “Oh, just an outsider looking for an Awakening,” the girl in the center said with an eye roll.

  Outsider? Awakening? Callie frowned at the words.

  “My mom’s inside—” she began.

  “Yeah, yeah, we know.” The girl paused, turning to her friends. “Outsiders are so pathetic. They come around with these family legends, thinking they’re so special. Desperate to be one of us. Of course, it’s usually a bunch of bullshit.”

  Callie flinched. Her mother had never been fond of swearing. When it came to boys swearing, well…it couldn’t be helped. They were ruffians, barely able to control themselves. But girls—

  There’s no denying it’s far from ladylike, she would say.

  “I don’t think she liked your swearing, Gwen,” the redheaded girl snickered.

  “N-no,” Callie said. “It’s fine.”

  Crap. This was going all wrong. It was impossible not to pick up on the signs.

  “Guess it can’t be helped,” the ringleader, Gwen, said with another eye roll. “Typical outsider. Always wants to be let in.”

  “Why the hell she would want anything to do with you losers is beyond me.”

  The three girls jumped slightly at the new voice. The smile fell off Gwen’s face as she turned to the speaker.

  It was a dark-haired girl, sitting on the landing at the top of a slide in the abandoned playground. She had been tucked behind a green plastic wall, which is why Callie hadn’t seen her before. She was Caucasian, wore glasses with big, chunky frames, jeans that went all the way up to her natural waist and held a book in her hand. The whole outfit just screamed “nerd,” especially compared to the three fashionable girls with their hip-hugging flared jeans.

  Only it was the three cool girls who looked nervous.

  “What are you doing there, Amity?” Gwen asked, crossing her arms across her chest. “You’re supposed to be inside.”

  “They don’t need me now,” the girl said, rolling her eyes, “clearly.”

  The three girls shifted, looking at each other, unsure of what to say.

  “Although sitting through a boring interview would be so much more entertaining than listening to you three losers.”

  “Losers?” Gwen said. “We’re not—”

  “Especially you, going on and on about Cameron, like that’s going to last more than a few days.”

  “C-Cameron loves me.”

  “What? Because you let him put his hand up your shirt? That doesn’t exactly seal the deal, you know. Nor did any of the other things you did.”

  Gwen’s face turned pink.

  “We didn’t—” she began.

  But of course, the way this Amity had said it, well…it could have been anything.

  “Slut,” the tall black girl said.

  The redhead snickered.

  “And I hate to break it to you, but his mind hasn’t exactly been focused on you lately. Not with that ho-bag Felicia sniffing around. You’re miles away. How long do you think it will take him to forget all about you?” Amity shook her head. “I bet he already has.”

  As Amity spoke, Gwen’s eyes began to fill with tears. She opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. She spun away from the other girls and ran toward the school, her two “friends” giggling behind her.

  “Oh, come on Gwen!” the redhead said. “Don’t take things so seriously!”

  The two chased after Gwen, almost bumping into Callie on their way by.

  Callie swallowed and then walked into the playground, approaching the strange dark-haired girl, sitting high on the slide.

  “H-hi,” she started. “That…” She paused, rethinking her words. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. They’re just phony bitches anyway,” Amity said, refusing to look up from her book. “All they care about is their hair and stupid boys.”

  “Did you make up that thing about Cameron?” Callie asked.

  “Maybe.” Amity’s lips twisted upward. “But they don’t know that.”

  “Why would they even believe you?”

  “Oh, I have a way of knowing things.” She let out a bitter laugh.

  What did that mean? Callie’s confusion came through clearly to me. As did the ache in her neck from looking up.

  “Uh…it feels kind of weird just yelling up at you like this,” she admitted.

  “Then come on up. There’s room for two.”

  Callie looked over to the ladder then paused. The rungs were broken…

  Of course, Amity was clearly a daring girl, bravely putting Gwen in her place like that. Wouldn’t she be impressed by an equal act of daring?

  A spark of something—fear, nervousness—sparked in Callie’s stomach as she moved to the bottom of the slide. And then, when she was sure she had enough of a lead, she ran straight up.

  At first, it was almost too easy. It wasn’t that tall of a slide, after all. She was at the top in seconds, Amity sitting in front of her, her eyes wide with surprise. And then her shoes, not sneakers like she had wanted, but the dress shoes her mother had insisted on, gave out from under her, and she tipped forward. Her stomach dropped when she realized she was going to fall.

  Then Amity’s bare hand shot out and yanked her in.

  Callie stumbled forward, ending up half on top of Amity. A laugh bubbled out of her lips, half from nerves, half from excitement. Amity, on the other hand, was very still.

  “What?” Callie said, pushing a curl back behind her ear. “Are you hurt?”

  “N-no.” A stutter entered the other girl’s voice. “Just…most people don’t like touching me.”

  “Why?” Callie moved off to the side.

  “Outsiders.” Amity pushed herself up and took a seat across from her. “Why did you come up here?”

  “You invited me, silly! My name is Callie, by the way.”

  “Amity,” the dark-haired girl replied.

  “That’s a weird name.”

  “No weirder that Calliope.”

  The smile fell from Callie’s face. “How do you know my full name?”

  “I uh…took a look at your fi
le,” Amity said, gaze dropping back to her book.

  “What are you reading?” Callie asked.

  In response, Amity’s fingers closed tight around the cover, obscuring the title even more. Callie reached forward and plucked it from her hands.

  “Sweet Valley Twins!” she said.

  She was surprised, figuring someone like Amity would be reading something a little more serious. Grown up, even.

  “Hey, give it back,” Amity said, her face turning red.

  “You don’t have to be ashamed. I love these books,” Callie replied, passing it back. “I read the new one every month, and Sweet Valley High. My mom lets me buy them from Walmart. This is a really old one, but I remember liking it a lot. About the experiment in history class? It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Y-yeah.” Amity pulled the book closer to herself. “It’s one of my favorites too.” She paused. “I don’t have any of the new ones. We’re not really big on Walmart.”

  Callie paused. These Forgers seemed awfully strange. Who didn’t go to Walmart?

  “I can bring a bunch the next time I come! Mom said that it would probably be two or three interviews. Will you still be here?”

  “Yeah, the others will be moving on, but I’m going to stay here with my dad.” Amity paused. “He’s running the interview.”

  “Where are the others going?”

  “Future breeding stock.” The girl let out a snort, then dropped her gaze.

  Callie frowned. Amity’s demeanor had changed so much since she had climbed the slide. She had seemed so in control before, so above them. But now—

  Amity looked up from her book. Callie’s stomach lurched, as if she were about to fall down the slide again. Only this time…this time…

  “Y-you know your eyes are such a pretty shade of blue,” she said. “Have you ever thought about wearing contacts?”

  In return, Amity blushed, reaching up to adjust her glasses. She opened her mouth to reply.

  But the only thing that came out was a series of chimes.

  Almost like…

  I blinked, awake, my phone buzzing against my ear as the alarm I had set the night before went off.