Black Warrior

by Tiffiny Hall

  ‘She wanted to be party planner,’ I say, rubbing my eyes. I spent hours last night blow-drying Elecktra’s magazines and books and wiping down the walls so Art could prepare them to repaint. Art is still furious. It’s the first time my parents have given me the silent treatment. I’ll be grounded until I leave home, unless I complete all my chores. At least things with Elecktra are back to normal. We move on from our fights pretty quickly, so never understand why it’s so hard for our parents to build a bridge too. She’s sleeping in my room while we clean up the mess.

  Up ahead, Elecktra overhears us and spins around. Mum thought if she was well enough to fight me, she was well enough to return to school. Her black eye sparkles in the sun, a bit weepy and green in the corners.

  ‘I had a vision of a Banquet in the Bush with rustic tables, wildflower arrangements, bouquets of carrots and teepee tents filled with nail bars and masseuses. But no, we’ll be on trampolines with fairy bread like four-year-olds,’ she huffs, speaking behind a cupped hand to cover up a tiny scratch from our fight. The hand muffler makes her sound a bit English.

  ‘Roxy, you’re turning fourteen!’ Elecktra continues, dropping her hand in her enthusiasm. ‘This is training-bra territory, skincare and haircare and high-school styling. There is so much that you will have to deal with. I just wanted you to have the best party ever before your best friends move in on your face and your legs begin to grow fur.’

  ‘You mean pimples?’ Cinnamon asks.

  Elecktra nods emphatically. I remember Hero’s evil taunts to Cinnamon about her skin and shudder. That guy has real problems. Since Cinnamon has started training, her skin has cleared up.

  ‘Roxy likes sport,’ Cinnamon says. ‘I thought she’d like doing something physical and fun. It’s a plyometric playground with tramps on every wall. And no fairy bread — I’m making healthy pita pizzas and open lentil and chickpea hamburgers with sugar-free ninja meringues.’

  Elecktra rolls her eyes. Cinnamon’s been spending time in the kitchen with Mum, cooking our family recipes. ‘Whatever tosses your salad,’ Lecky says.

  ‘She’s upset because she wanted to wear a dress,’ I whisper to Cinnamon.

  ‘She probably still will. May get a discount because of it.’ Cinnamon laughs, reaching down to pat Rescue.

  ‘One day you’ll look back at this birthday, being young, beautiful, fourteen,’ Elecktra says whimsically, ‘and you’ll realise how precious time is, how fast life passes you by. Take it from someone past their prime.’ The sun flashes on the little red scab my anger left on Elecktra’s lip.

  ‘Huh?’ I say.

  ‘I’m sixteen going on seventeen,’ Elecktra says. ‘I have thirteen new freckles, a green vein on my hand and my hair is getting darker with age. This face,’ she circles her face with her ring finger, ‘is changing. Every day I spray my face with hairspray. Set it, forget it. My beauty won’t last forever.’

  Cinnamon pulls on Rescue’s lead and he stops to clean himself. ‘Cork it, Elecktra. You’re the prettiest girl in school even with a black eye. Not even a make-under could have you look bad.’ Elecktra smiles. ‘And Roxy’s birthday isn’t about her looks but friends. It’s her first party ever,’ Cinnamon adds.

  Elecktra leans her head to one side and studies Cinnamon for a moment. ‘BTW, you’re looking fabulous!’ she says.

  Cinnamon shrugs and lights a smile.

  ‘I’m really proud of you,’ I tell Cinnamon.

  ‘I would have given your party the whole shebang,’ Elecktra says softly, and for the first time ever, I think I’ve genuinely hurt her feelings.

  I grab Elecktra’s arm and Cinnamon’s arm, then force them to hold hands. ‘Lecky, Cinnamon came to save you. She put her life on the line and fought a samurai for you. The least you can do is give her my party to style.’ Elecktra looks at Cinnamon then at me and nods her mahogany eyes, curtaining the sunlight within them. ‘And Cim, you can understand where Lecky is coming from as my older sister?’ Cinnamon nods and her orange afro rebounds off her shoulders. ‘So truce?’ I ask. They shake on it.

  ‘Why don’t you let Elecktra style your outfit for the school dance?’ Cinnamon compromises.

  I gasp. Lecky’s eyes go all shiny like a cat’s.

  ‘Yes, yes, Roxy. Puleeasse,’ she begs. ‘I’m envisioning a military mash-up set in the future or creamy sorbet layering with a floral headpiece. Or a Hawaiian print with a bikie tough-look vest.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Okay. If you must.’

  ‘I must, I must, I must!’ she sings.

  I hear my name and when I turn my head, my breath traps. Jackson Axe.

  He moves towards me like a slow-mo montage in a film: his hair billows in the wind, his arms flex fibre by fibre as his smile spreads gently, revealing one brilliant white tooth at a time. I notice the leather cuff he always wears around his wrist as he reaches up to brush his hair out of his forest-green eyes. His school blazer stretches across his broad shoulders and I imagine myself reaching up on my tiptoes to lay my head against his chest. I can smell him before he reaches me. He doesn’t take his eyes off me and I feel Elecktra and Cinnamon sparking in his presence. He grabs my arms at the elbows, then brushes his nose to mine. I breathe him in.

  ‘Roxy?’ he says, and I lean further into him. I smile on the inside. I smile all over in a happy rash.

  ‘Yes?’ I sigh, staring into the greenery of his eyes.

  ‘Rox,’ he says again, our noses still touching.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, now desperate for him to lean down and kiss me.

  He pulls away and the wind cuts between us. ‘There’s trouble.’

  ‘Trouble?’ I repeat, trying to get my head around this jarring word. He’s probably talking about some stupid stunt one of the older kids has pulled.

  Jackson’s eyes pinch as they always do whenever he is stressed. ‘Big trouble,’ he says, taking my hand.

  We walk the next two blocks together, our fingers threaded. Jackson is tugging me, half-walking, half-jogging. I can feel his hand sweating and I gently summon ice to cool between our palms. But Jackson doesn’t even notice; his eyes burn towards the school gates.

  Elecktra, Cinnamon and Rescue walk with us. For the first time I feel part of a group. The five of us have been through a lot together and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us safe. Hopefully things will settle down now and we can enjoy being friends. Lecky is spending less time with her airheads. I guess she realised it’s better to spend time with people who accept you for who you are, for all your magic, even if they are Gate Two.

  We arrive at the school gates and Elecktra and Jackson break away to walk through Gate One. My heart splits. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s not better than me, it’s all in my head. Old Roxy will keep taunting, if I let her, poisoning every thought with her put-downs.

  Cinnamon scoops up Rescue and places him in her school bag. He’s become somewhat of a class mascot and is allowed to sleep curled up in the corner of our classroom. We brace ourselves to walk through Gate Two, expecting Hero to bombard us with spit bombs and his caustic slagging, but he isn’t there.

  Beyond the gates, kids are crowded around something on the ground outside the main school building, an old mansion. Sergeant Major and Principal Cheatley stand with their hands on their hips, talking to the police. Kids run past us with buckets of water and help beefy firemen with their hoses. The front of the school is chaos. No more Gate One, Gate Two, ninjas versus samurai, but everyone mashed in together, racing around through muddy grass saturated by hoses and careless throws of buckets of water. I search for Jackson.

  Elecktra pops up beside me. ‘What a way to start the day,’ she says, admiring the firemen’s muscles.

  I’ve never seen the school this disorganised. Why isn’t Sergeant Major yelling everyone into line? Why hasn’t Principal Cheatley called an assembly?

  Chantell, Elecktra’s bestie, runs up to us. ‘This is cray-cray!’ she screeches. ‘The school is on fire!’


  ‘What about the school dance?’ Lecky shrieks.

  Cinnamon clutches her school bag and Rescue’s head pops up. ‘The school dance isn’t until next Monday,’ she says. ‘Surely they won’t cancel.’ Cinnamon has her eye on a beautiful dress at the mall. It’s the first time she’s ever found a dress that she likes and I know she will rock it.

  ‘No dance? The world is ending! My sartorial spotlight has been stolen!’ Lecky screeches and runs off to find a teacher to demand her dance prevails, Chantell in hot pursuit.

  Cinnamon and I barrel to the front of the crowd. Before us spans a sizzling crater the size of a swimming pool. At the bottom of the pit, fire still sparks.

  ‘Who would do this?’ I murmur to Cinnamon. I know samurai have a predilection for fire, but this looks like a bomb exploded. They rarely deal with explosives.

  A kid with more freckles on his face than space punches the air. ‘No school for two weeks!’ he celebrates as he runs past.

  I grab his arm and pull him to me. ‘What?’

  ‘School’s closed. Too dangerous,’ he says.

  Principal Cheatley awakens from his worried trance and begins to order students into the assembly hall, where they must wait until their parents can pick them up. Jackson is still nowhere to be found.

  Hero appears out of the crowd. The purple pockets under his eyes shine in the sunlight and I almost laugh — he looks like Lecky. ‘Get more water,’ he orders. ‘Cinnamon’s hair is on fire!’

  Cinnamon stops, turns and stares him down. For a moment I think she’s about to cry. ‘Sorry,’ she says.

  I almost elbow her hard for apologising to him. Even after I stick up for him, he still harasses us.

  ‘Sorry I can’t think of an insult stupid enough for you,’ she finishes.

  Hero looks confused. Either he’s not used to being answered back to or he’s still trying to figure out if she actually insulted him. He points to the fire pit. ‘Did you do this?’ He laughs. ‘By sitting down?’

  Cinnamon rolls her eyes and turns to me. ‘I’d like to leave him with more thoughts, but I’m not sure he’d have anywhere to put them,’ she says calmly.

  What a change. Weeks ago she would have burst out crying with embarrassment. Hero seems bewildered. His pain isn’t messing with her today.

  I smile at Cinnamon. ‘I’m going to have a closer look at the fire damage. Take Rescue to the assembly hall and I’ll catch you later!’

  The earth is molten and still smoulders. I inspect the pit. This wasn’t just a fire, this was something that hit the earth and exploded. The pit is at least eight metres deep and almost blankets the expanse of grass. I bend down to inspect a shoe that has been burned at the tip. Then I notice other shoes strewn across the black grass. A cindered jacket, a bracelet, a pair of glasses; clothing litters the front school yard.

  Arms slide around my waist. I spin and leap into a fighting stance, twisting the foreign arm into a lock.

  ‘It’s like that now, is it?’ Jackson says, looking up from under his locked arm. I blow his hair out of his eyes with my breath playfully.

  ‘Sorry. Bit on edge,’ I say, crouching back down to the abandoned shoes. Jackson pinches his brow and rubs my shoulder.

  ‘There’ve been reports of disappearances around Lanternwood. Everyone’s worried,’ he says.

  ‘How come I haven’t heard anything?’ I ask.

  ‘The clans have kept it quiet, didn’t want to alarm anyone. But now this has happened.’ He looks down into the fire pit. ‘So many have vanished and all in one night. I don’t know what they’ll do.’

  ‘Vanished?’

  Jackson crouches down beside me. ‘Incinerated,’ he says.

  I gasp. ‘Is it rogue samurai? Are they after me?’

  ‘Someone wants somebody’s attention,’ he says.

  Our knees knock. It seems we’re always talking business. I wonder if he has thought about our kiss. Did the green swallow him whole too?

  Jackson brushes the hair out of my eyes. I wilt under his touch. He looks at my lips. I smile at him. The wind blows and I summon it to lean us into each other. Crouching still, the wind gently pushes us closer, until all that parts our mouths is a jewel of sunlight, then —

  ‘Oh my ninja stars!’

  Jackson and I whip our heads around. Mum is standing on the edge of the fire pit, her nunchucks drawn. Her blonde hair billows in the wind as she slowly sinks towards the earth, her lips quivering. I knew it wouldn’t be long until she turned up; she has a sixth sense for trouble. She plunges her fingers into the grass and irons out the surface. I run to her just in time to see the dents she is smudging out.

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing,’ she says.

  Jackson’s eyes narrow and he begins to hunt around. Mum runs around the front yard, scuffing the grass.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I call, trying to frantically keep up with her to see what she is so desperately trying to erase. I stop to compose myself and look harder at the grass. It takes a moment, drawing me in like a Magic Eye painting before its hidden markings become visible and create an image. I blur my vision, then suddenly I see it. Criss-crossed lines carve deep into the earth. Long lacerations as if someone has slashed the grass with a fire whip. Mum’s effort to erase the pattern is futile. The lines are too deep and there are too many. I don’t know how I didn’t notice them before.

  ‘Aliens!’ I shriek. Mum looks bewildered. ‘What is it? I know you know. The Emishi clan would have told you everything. You know, don’t you!’

  Mum is reticent as always. She fastens her eyes to the ground and locks them there.

  ‘Mum!’ I say. She continues to stare at the ground. ‘Fine! I’m still not talking to you anyway. And by the way, I kissed a boy.’

  Mum’s eyes shoot upwards and harden with rage. Jackson shrinks towards the bushes.

  ‘You did what!’ she says in a low voice, her pre-yelling voice.

  ‘I kissed a boy. And I will do it again and won’t tell you anything about it. The same as you keep all the secrets from me,’ I say.

  ‘I protect you.’

  ‘You lie to me.’

  ‘Roxy, you have to trust me. You have to do something for me,’ she says.

  Jackson is inspecting a school bench that has been cleanly sliced in half, as if with a burning axe. He scratches his head.

  ‘Yeah and how can I trust you if you never tell me what’s going on?’ I ask.

  ‘Cat, I need you to do this one thing for me,’ she pleads, using my nickname that has stuck because of the tiger birthmark on my foot. I haven’t seen my mother this desperate.

  Jackson joins us and her eyes narrow. His cheeks glow; it is the first time I have ever seen him embarrassed. Mum likes Jackson — he’s a ninja, polite, strong, a supreme athlete, eats healthily — but will she still like him as my boyfriend?

  ‘Cat, I need you to set fire to the front yard,’ she says.

  ‘Are you having a senior moment, Mum? Listen to what you’re saying!’

  ‘Set fire to it!’ she says urgently. ‘You have the power to do it quickly.’

  ‘Can’t you just pick me up and take me home like a normal parent? Why does everything have to be so crazy?’ I glance over at Jackson. God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m a freak like my full-on mother. What I would give to be at the movies with him, holding hands, being normal.

  Mum’s eyes narrow again and she gets that look she wears when you haven’t put away your dishes and she’s planning to stash them in your bed later. She’s done it before. My sheets stunk of lentils for weeks.

  Jackson takes my hand. ‘Sneaky samurai. They’ve disguised this well,’ he says. I unfurl under his attention.

  ‘Would you like a lift home?’ Mum asks him, abandoning her plea all of a sudden, as I watch a new plan hatch across her face.

  Jackson smiles charmingly. ‘That would be king, Mrs Ran.’

  FIVE

  After dinner, Elecktra and I clean up th
e kitchen. We have to make it spotless as part of our punishment for our little tiff. We escaped being grounded, but we will be doing chores for the rest of our teenage years: gardening, washing cars and dishes, changing sheets, ironing and cleaning. All the stuff Lecky despises, but I secretly enjoy. As if Mum would really cancel my birthday party. I think she’s just as excited as me that it’s happening. I don’t think Mum ever imagined I’d have the confidence to invite my friends. I know she couldn’t bear cancelling the party after everything I’ve been through. I think defeating a thousand warriors and saving Lecky’s butt are causes to celebrate, let alone turning fourteen.

  Art has commenced repainting Elecktra’s room. No mural this time — I think he figures it may not be the last time I make it pour rain inside. Although we weren’t pumped about it, Lecky and I are following the House Rules of no powers inside, respect each other’s differences, no fighting (physical and verbal) and continue our training to learn how to better control our gifts. So far, so good. We are on our best behaviour.

  Elecktra swings a tea towel over her shoulder, her part of the clean-up done. ‘Mum’s acting weird,’ she says, before heading upstairs.

  Mum is acting weird. Why can’t she be more like Emily’s mum at school and obsessed with online ancestry? Emily’s mum has been building a virtual family tree and researching their history since Year Three. It’s as if Mum wants to chop down our family tree, burn and bury it. What’s the big deal? Why can’t she talk about my father? The thought itches anger.

  I empty the dishwasher in methodical fashion. Cups first, splitting glasses and mugs into their separate cupboards. Plates stacked, bowls towered, plastic containers jigsawed together into their drawer and finally the knives and forks laid to rest in the cutlery drawer, after I’ve wiped out its compartments. I can’t think straight when I’m in a mess, different to Elecktra whose creativity seems to flourish among chaos. She’s like Art that way, whereas Mum and me are total neat freaks.

  I think about Mum again. Mum and all her secrets. Ninjas have a reputation for being stealthy and secretive, but Mum takes it to a new level. She worked as an assassin for years and keeping secrets was her job, but I hate that she treats our family like a mission sometimes. Protecting us, guarding us from the unknown. She has always said that love can make you weak, vulnerable. But I’ve only ever felt stronger when fighting for those I love.