The Rise of the Fourteen

by Catherine Carter

  “Arden, sweetie, may I come in?” his mom’s voice trembles as she asks the question. Her voice cracks mid-sentence. She’s just as unsure of this as I am. Why should I pack up my life, everything that I have, to go off with my supposed mother? And a sister? That is just too weird to think about. And where are they even going? “Mom’s” strange accent is obviously not Hawaiian, so that rules out Oahu, and any of the other islands. But, it’s certainly not American. I can’t quite place it, but it seems … familiar.

  He snorts in disgust. “Well if you're going to uproot my entire life and take away everything that I love, I don't think you have to ask to come into my room, as you've already invaded my privacy!” He bites his lip as if it will stem the flow of his tears. As they make shining ridges on his cheeks, they sting, like the seawater he so loves. He quickly wipes his face.

  His mother takes a micro step into the room, and then a few more after Arden doesn’t start screaming again. “Arden,” she says, her hands raised in a placating gesture, “I understand that this is very difficult for you to process all at once especially since James, I mean your father, decided not to tell you.”

  She scowls at the open door, in the general direction of her ex-husband, “So, I wondered if I might pack for you. You seem like you could use some time to just … sit.” She smiles, but her lip quivers.

  Arden politely pretends not to notice. This is hard for her too, he realizes. Maybe this wasn’t the divorce settlement she wanted. Besides, whatever connection my parents once had was obviously gone.

  Arden slowly lifts his head and gazes up at his mother. He sees love and tenderness in her eyes, but frankly, feels nothing in return. With all the conflicting emotions, Arden was unsure how to talk to this woman, this woman who obviously cares so much about him, but he has never even dreamed existed. “Go ahead,” he whispers, “I need to get some water.”

  She lets out a sigh of relief as Arden inches out the door. He goes to the living room to question his father, but something told Arden that his dad didn’t want to talk. So, Arden goes outside to the beach. The breeze engulfs him in its warm embrace. One last hug goodbye.

  He looks out at the endless blue sea wondering what will await him when he’s forced to cross it. Of course, he knows about the outside world, but he has never left his home before. Only his island existed to him, and he was okay with that. He is okay with that. He loves his music, singing to the starry angels, playing his ukulele to their silent hymns as the sun begins to rise. That would soon become a distant memory. Arden lets tears skate down his face. He looks out again, trying to take in as much of the scenery and trying to preserve as much of it in his mind as possible.

  A few hours later, he is at the British Airways check-in desk. He hands his grungy, ancient suitcase to the woman at the desk. She smiles at him and presses the button to get the conveyor belt moving.

  “Here are your two boarding passes for non-stop Honolulu to London Heathrow,” the woman says, far too brightly to be natural, kind of like her lipstick. Arden’s mother takes their passports from the countertop and thanks the woman.

  “Come on,” she says. “We need to hurry through security if we want to catch our flight.” She gestures for him to get a move on. “Come on, Luna will have to wait even longer if we have to catch a different flight.”

  He follows sluggishly. Who is this Luna anyway? Of course, we can guess who Mom’s favorite child is.

  Arden tramps along behind his mother, his mind a soft-serve swirl of emotion. Security and boarding pass by in a blur and, before he knows it, Arden is on the plane. The metal walls feel confining, and Arden is suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of claustrophobia. As there is no way of throwing himself out a window and into the void, he decides to sleep away the hours.

  “Do you mind if I take a nap?” he asks. He's not sure why he feels the need to ask his mother's permission, but he does so just to be sure. She doesn't even respond verbally, just giving him a vague nod over the provided freebie magazine.

  Thirty minutes later Arden is sleeping like a baby, exhausted from the morning's troubles. His mother strokes his hair tenderly, her lips pursed with a mixture of love and regret. If only if he had known before this morning, she wonders. Then he might of have taken it better. But, it’s water under the bridge now. She waves off the flight attendant carting boxes of stale bread rolls. Arden has the right idea. She slumps against the window and begins to drift off.

  Across the aisle, a man and a woman peer over their newspapers. The woman has long silver hair tucked up in a bun. The man watches Arden closely, his golden eyes twinkling in the dimming airplane light.

  “Excuse me, sir, your seat must be in the upright position for landing.” Arden is shaken awake by a flight attendant in a crisp blue uniform and a freshly powdered face. He nods noncommittally and adjusts his seat. His mother is sluggishly stowing her laptop in her bag. When she looks up, Arden notices her blood-shot eyes.

  “Glad you've finally woken up,” she says. “We'll be landing soon. I didn't want to wake you earlier because you look tired.” She gives him a strained smile.

  Arden rubs his eyes and peers out the window over his mother’s shoulder. The sky is a pasty gray color, and Arden only wonders how stepping out into the darkness of England will feel. He had never imagined it would be so gloomy. Will it also be spring there, or do they even have regular seasons? Arden blinks a few times, but the sky doesn’t go away, and sadly, neither does he.

  After waiting for ages crammed behind other passengers, Arden and his mother cross the threshold of the airport. People soon form a fast-moving blob rushing towards customs. Arden's mother grabs his hand and pushes through the crowd as if parting the Red Sea. Arden works through the shifting flock of people before the swarm closes up again.

  Many aggravating lines later, Arden finally steps out of the airport doors. He looks skyward and notices the clouds thickening. Looks like rain is coming. The cold proves too much for him, despite the sweatshirt and jeans his mother gave him, and he leaps into the first cab that he sees, thankful for the heat. His mother steps in after him and gives the cabbie an address.

  They soon begin to roll out of the airport. Why is he driving on the wrong side of the road? Arden wonders. Ugh, everything about this place is weird. Spat. Spat. Spat. The water droplets appear on his window. The imminent downpour has just begun, and the windshield wipers are in full swing.

  I’m sure Luna is used to this. Luna. My sister. What is she even like? Arden tries to visualize her but fails. There were no pictures around the house of the “other half” of the family, so Arden was, at the moment, still in the dark, both figuratively and literally.

  Arden loved the light and the sunny days he spent on the beach on his island. He would rise with the sun, and go to sleep well after it set. Here, he can’t even make out the sun through the cloak of clouds. Without his light, his music, his everything, how is he supposed to manage? Arden curls up into a ball and begins to shiver again, not from the cold, but from the prospect of the days to come. The prospect of the fact he was about to be thrown into an abyss of turmoil and trauma, and he had no idea what might be at the bottom.

  A few lanes over, a black Prius glides silently. The driver watches the cab with great concentration, never shifting his gaze to watch the road. A woman sits next to him in the shotgun seat, vigilant in her observations.

  “When should we act?” The woman asks impatiently, tapping her manicured nails on the dashboard.

  “When they’re both ready of course. He must meet his sister before we can even think of initiation,” the driver replies.

  “I suppose you’re right, but must we wait long?”

  “Do not force powers you have no control of, Sorem. The right time will come, you will see.”

  The film of droplets makes it hard to see as Arden tries to look out the window to get a grip on his new surroundings. The traffic is slow as the water comes down in torrents. The cabbie says it will be at least an
other thirty minutes till they reach the house.

  Arden tenses. The house. The house where he and his sister, and his mother too, have to all live together and act like some big happy family. As if nothing ever happened. No one was ever separated, and his dad, the one who had actually cared about him and raised him since birth, didn't even exist.

  House of delusions. House of secrets. House of lies. All those things wait for him, and perhaps more horrors he can’t imagine. He takes solace in the fact that he won't have to face that for at least a little while longer, and stares out into the rain—the tears of his starry angels, mourning his disappearance.

  “If only I could go back,” he whispers. “If only I could have stayed.” Arden joins the lament of the angels as nighttime descends, and the incessant pattering of raindrops and honking of horns continues.

  4

  birthday cake frosting that tastes like calories and deceit

  Luna lies on her bed in front of her laptop, which illuminates the dark room like a beacon of capitalism. She tries to content herself by browsing through her Tumblr feed, but keeps glancing out the window, waiting for a car to pull up to the house. Best birthday ever! Thanks, Mom.

  The rain keeps splattering against the windows, disrupting the silence. Luna glances at her watch. 23:30. Shouldn’t Mum be back by now? She heads down to the living room. Maybe watching some TV will serve as a better distraction. Then she hears it, the click of a key turning in a lock. Mum! Luna runs down the stairs to meet her mother, but when she opens the door, an unfamiliar face greets her.

  The boy is wet, extremely wet, and there are small waterfalls pouring off his coat. He is shivering and has strange golden eyes, like disconcerting aureate pools. He shakes the water droplets out of his hair and sticks his hand out.

  “Hi, I’m Arden.” Luna looks at him with an incredulous stare. He chuckles nervously and retracts his hand, pretending to brush some water off the suitcase in his other hand. “And you must be Luna.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Well, I’m …”

  “And where’s my mother? What’s going on?”

  “She told me to unlock the door, and that you would let me in.”

  “You’re a complete and utter stranger, and you expect me to believe that my mother gave you our house key? How stupid do you think I am?”

  “But I’m not a stranger, I’m your—”

  “I don’t care who you are; as far as I know, you’re a strange boy whom I have never set eyes on before.”

  “Luna, darling, settle down,” Ms. Hughes says as she walks towards the doorway, her own large case in tow.

  “Mum!” She brushes past Arden to give her mother a big hug.

  “Now, let's all get inside where it's warm!” Ms. Hughes urges. Arden all but runs inside. “Oh, and Luna,” Ms. Hughes whispers.

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “This is your … new brother, Luna," she says, the lie slipping easily off her tongue. “He'd been in a bit of a bad way when I picked him up, so be gentle, yeah?”

  Luna nods and enters the house, surprised. Mum was always a supporter of the downtrodden, but I never thought she’d adopt a kid. Ms. Hughes ambles in after her daughter and shuts the door, her cheeks reddening in the face of her deception.

  Luna starts a fire and warmth emanates throughout the house. Ms. Hughes sits in the large armchair closest to the fire, clearly glad to be home as she sinks into the cushions. Arden awkwardly perches on the sofa, while Luna hangs their coats by the fire to dry. The boy seems … strange, Luna thinks. She sneaks a glance at Arden. And slightly familiar? Luna’s thoughts are interrupted by her mother’s tired voice.

  “Luna, dear.”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “In the big bag, by the maroon suitcase, there’s a birthday cake and some presents.”

  She smiles gratefully at her mother. Her mom didn’t always have enough money to get things done, but she always remembered Luna’s special day. Luna brings the cake into the kitchen and cuts three slices. If she made one of the slices just slightly smaller than the other two, that was really nobody’s business. Just avoid eye contact.

  She heads back to the living room and slides Arden his slice of cake across the coffee table. She hands her mother another slice and stands awkwardly, holding her own. Sitting on the couch next to Arden would just be too uncomfortable.

  “Shall I sing happy birthday to … the two of you?” Ms. Hughes’s voice squeaks in the most undignified way as she finishes the question.

  “The two of us?” Luna exclaims. This Arden could not get any weirder.

  “You didn’t mention that we were twins!” Arden exclaims.

  His mother grimaces as he says it. I was trying to ease Luna into it, Ms. Hughes thinks sadly.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, rewind! What? You’re my twin?” Arden nods slowly as Ms. Hughes pales at her daughter’s anger. “You might have wanted to mention this earlier! I don’t even know who you are! I didn’t even know I had a ‘brother’ till about five minutes ago! What kind of sick joke is this?” Arden shrinks back against the cushions.

  “It’s my fault,” Ms. Hughes says quietly, breaking the silence. “I should have told you before I left.”

  “Yes, you bloody well should have! Is this your idea of a birthday present? Telling me I have a twin, one that I've never heard about, in any of these fifteen years? And you expect me to sing Happy Birthday like this is completely normal? I'm not exactly accustomed to strange boys showing up at my house in the middle of the night telling me that they're family!”

  Ms. Hughes winces with every word as if Luna was pricking needles into her mother’s fingers one at a time. “I know that this is a lot to process. But why don't we save all of this talk for the light of morning when everything will seem clearer.”

  After one feeble chorus of Happy Birthday and two slices of cake, the tension in the room has thickened from a melted margarine to a gooey, suffocating custard. Wrapping paper littered the floor and ribbon lay in tangled spools. However, there was no mad dash to tie each other up with the ribbon. There were no paper ball wars or rubbish bin races. They all sit in stony silence. No wonder Mum never organizes family reunions, Luna thinks.

  “Luna, can you show your brother to the spare room?”

  Luna nods, but doesn’t look her mother in the eyes. How does she think she can tell me what to do after the bomb she just dropped? She begins to tramp up the stairs and motions for Arden to follow, leaving their mother to contemplate how that first meeting could have been handled better. I hate being told what to do.

  “Your room is just up here. The bathroom is two doors down on the left, and I can go and find you some toothpaste and stuff ….” Her voice trails off.

  “Thanks, Luna,” Arden says stiffly, trying to conceal his discomfort.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said. I was just in shock. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Apologies were never Luna’s strong suit, but after seeing his face as he huddled up against the cushions, she decided she had to give it a go.

  “It’s okay,” Arden replies, a sad smile forming on his face. “I had a similar reaction this morning when … Ms. Hughes came to pick me up.” They laugh nervously. Luna manages a weak smile, but Arden’s lips settle into a grimace.

  “I’m sure you’ll feel more comfortable after you’ve had a while to adjust. I know London’s a bit different from wherever you’ve lived, but I’m sure in time you’ll ….” She breaks off as she sees Arden’s face twist in vexation.

  “A bit different. A bit different? I gave up my whole life, everything I ever knew to come here—here to this soggy gray wasteland, full of grimy buildings, and bone-chilling rains, with no warmth and no light to be found anywhere. And you think it will just take some getting used to?”

  His face radiates fury as Luna takes a few steps back. “You don’t get it, do you, Luna? We've been through the same shock, but at least you can still go on with your life! Don't pretend you can un
derstand what I've been through.” He slams the door in her face as Luna's gray eyes begin to purple until they become the color of storm clouds.

  “I was just trying to be nice to you, jerk face!” she yells, kicking the door. “Don’t pretend you can understand,” she quotes, mockingly. Who does he think he is? She starts to walk to her room, then turns back down the hall.

  She opens the bathroom door, uncaps the toothpaste, and spits into it with gusto. She caps it and shakes it about for good measure. Have fun brushing with that, Arden. She considers going to warn her mother about the "minty fresh" spittle but turns to her room. Arden isn’t the only one to blame. Mum is too. She can brush with that toothpaste for as long as she likes.

  After locking her door, Luna pulls back the curtains to reveal the glittering London skyline, masked by a haze of water. Most of the lights have gone out on their street, but the streetlights retain their glow like fireflies in a dark field.

  Luna gazes out the window for a long time, the view calming her mind, letting her forget her troubles. Still, she cannot stay at the window forever and stumbles back to her bed. She ensconces herself in the blankets, trying to shield herself from the chill of the evening's events. Down the hall, she hears commotion and slides out of bed. She presses her ear to the door as the sound of running footsteps draws nearer.

  “Arden, Arden, honey, what is it?” Ms. Hughes croons. Luna has to stop herself from gagging.

  “The toothpaste, it's all slimy!” Arden cries. He retches as he furiously tries to rinse all of the green ooze out of his mouth. Luna smiles as she makes her way back to bed. The once distracting pattering of rain whisks Luna off to dreamland, and she follows willingly, eager to lose herself in a world of whimsy where nothing in the past has to have ever existed.

  5

  a hands-on guide to destroying your arch nemesis, paint not included