The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN)

by Fleur Camacho

  I stood there with resolve. “Yes, Isolda. Please,” I begged. “Just for a minute.”

  She sighed and Ailey raised her eyebrows at her.

  “Okay,” she accepted. Ailey didn’t want to go in the house alone, not knowing what to expect, so she just walked off a bit to give us some privacy.

  “Look Isolda,” I started but she stared at me noncommittally. “Here, can we sit?” I asked.

  She looked around, and seeing no obvious place to sit, she just plopped down in the grass. I followed her lead and sat facing her so that I could look into her eyes. The insects buzzed around us and the grass blew in the wind.

  “Isolda, remember the day we met? You hit me with the badminton racket?”

  “Oh,” she moaned, “don’t remind me.”

  “No, no, listen. Please.”

  She waited.

  “The first thing I remembered when I awoke was your beautiful face staring over me. I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. I just…” I struggled to find the words. “Was so attracted to you. And not to just your looks but everything about you. Ever since that day I’ve had feelings so strong for you that I couldn’t help falling for you. When I looked into your eyes I could see… I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like I felt hope in my life.”

  “Hope?” she laughed uneasily, unsure what that meant.

  “Yes,” I said. “Hope. Hope that I wouldn’t be alone in this world. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

  “Seriously?” she exclaimed.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I would lie in my bed at night and couldn’t sleep because all I could think about was you. But I was too scared to tell you, thinking you would just think I was a crazy stalker. And besides,” I added with a blush, “I was too nervous. I’d never felt feelings that intense before, and didn’t know what to say to you, or how to say it.”

  She just sat there with her mouth open. I reached up and gently closed it with my finger. She grinned, but still said nothing.

  “And when you…” I hesitated, not wanting to think about the dark time when she was with Greg, “when you chose Greg over me, well, I just couldn’t live with it. I felt all those emotions of hope and wonder and hunger, they just evaporated and I felt – empty, desolate. Alone.”

  “What? You were never alone, you always had Ailey.”

  “No, Isolda. I did feel alone. Ailey will always be a great…” I struggled with the knowledge Mr. Becker had told me. No, I decided to wait until Ailey and I had talked about it first. “Friend,” I ended lamely.

  Isolda looked at me with a little bit of hostility and it reminded me of the old Isolda, the one we’d left behind that day. I stroked her cheek with my thumb, the way I’d done when we were together and it seemed as if there was no one else in the world that mattered.

  “Isolda,” I said softly. “There is no one in this world that will ever change my feelings for you. Ailey is a great friend, but nothing I feel for her will compare to the feelings I have for you. I mean it.”

  She looked at me deeply. All trace of her hostility melted away and hope sparked in her eyes.

  “Tristen, I —” she started.

  “Tristen! Where have you been? I have been calling you! Where were you for so long? I don’t know where y’all disappeared to, but I’ve been yelling for you and trying to call you on your phone. I need to talk to you. Right now, please.”

  It was my mom and by the tone of her voice I knew right away that there was something wrong.

  I turned to look at my mom from across the field. She was so beautiful. What a sight for sore eyes. Yet, there was something about her; she looked tired and sad. It was different than before.

  “Ms. Winstead, I’m sorry. We just decided to go for a walk and talk about the project. We didn’t realize we’d been gone so long, I’m sorry. There were some things I didn’t understand and so I was asking them to explain…” Isolda trailed off.

  My mom had stopped. She was just standing there. She took in our appearance; I had grown more muscular and had a deeper tan. I turned to look at the girls; their hair was longer and fairer from the sun. They too had grown more trim and looked different in a dozen slight ways. Thank goodness we’d remembered to change back into the clothes that we left in. I turned back to see my mom’s eyes shift from our appearances to the History book in my hand. I grew nervous, not really knowing what to say.

  “I see,” she said. Then she turned her back on us and bowed her head. “Tristen, can I see you for a minute in the house?” She walked toward the back door.

  I turned to look toward the girls. Ailey walked back toward us and raised her eyebrows. I just shrugged and followed my mom.

  When we got inside the house the first thing that she did was pull me into her and hold me tight. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Surprised, I didn’t know what to say. She just stood there and held me for a long time. I breathed her in. The smell was so familiar; I was so glad to be home.

  Standing there, holding me, her knees began to weaken and as they buckled I caught her and helped her to the couch.

  After we sat down she took my hands into hers and looked deep into my eyes. “Tristen, I have some news to give you.” Tears welled up in her eyes and I could feel my heart throbbing in my chest. “Your dad got in a car accident,” she began.

  Everything in the world went still. Birds stopped chirping, cars stopped moving. Even the air around me paused to take in the news she was about to deliver. I couldn’t breathe. “He’s alive but he’s in a coma. The doctors don’t know when he’ll come out of it and what his condition will be if and when he does.”

  I could feel the ground shaking under me. I looked down and there seemed to be a huge hole growing under me, swallowing me up.

  “Wait wait wait. What do you mean ‘when’ and why are you using the word ‘if’?” I asked, my heart still hammering and a fog descending over my brain.

  She took a deep breath. “The doctors are not sure what the impact did to his brain. The body can go into a coma as a way to protect itself during a deep trauma. We can only hope that his body will be able to repair itself and that he will be the same as he was before.”

  She sounded clinically detached, as if she was just repeating what the doctor had told her. I could tell that she was barely holding herself together.

  “I got the call from the hospital right after the girls went outside. I couldn’t see you guys and you didn’t come when I called, so I wrote you a note and then went to the hospital.”

  “You drove to the hospital by yourself? Mom!”

  She put her hand out. “Tristen, it’s okay. I am getting better and can do this.”

  I sat silently, a guilty knot in my stomach.

  “Tristen, it’s time for me to be the parent. You’ve been so good and helpful but I can handle this, okay?” she said softly. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.

  “Okay,” I whispered. She sat for a moment, thinking.

  “Once the doctors said that he was stable I left to come find you. I’ve been waiting for you to return.”

  She didn’t ask any questions about where I’d been and I shifted apologetically on the couch. She looked me over as if seeing me for the first time. “You look…” She couldn’t find the right word to describe what she was seeing. “Different,” she finished.

  Seeing that I was still in shock she continued, “Let’s call the girls’ parents. They’re worried because I called them. I’ll tell them that you just went for a walk in the fields back there. Then we’ll give them a ride home. I know you haven’t driven much, but do you mind driving now? I’m …” she drifted off and I knew that she was trying to be strong for me.

  “Of course I’ll drive, Mom.” My voice sounded strong but inside my mind reeled. My dad might die. My dad might die. Suddenly anger boiled inside of me. My dad could have died and I had been several centuries away. I might not be able to say goodbye to him or ever see him alive again. I felt like punchi
ng the wall. I was furious with whoever — or whatever had chosen to send me back at the exact moment my mother and father needed me the most. I could only imagine the fear my mom must have felt when she couldn’t find me after learning about my dad’s accident. I had to unclench my hands as I reached for the door.

  “Isolda, Ailey, can you come here please?”

  They looked at me questioning, but I only shook my head. If I tried to tell them what’d happened I knew I’d break down.

  “My mom is calling your parents. She’ll tell them about the walk, and then we’ll take you home.”

  They could tell that something was wrong but didn’t know what to say so they moved silently through the house to the front door. Isolda tried to reach for my hand but I couldn’t even look at her right now, I was so furious at someone — anyone — and I didn’t want her to see that. I was scared and wanted to just be with my dad. I would have to finish my conversation with Isolda later.

  I started up the car while we soundlessly waited for my mom; I could hear every creak as they adjusted in their seats.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  September 11, 2001

  I felt the excitement building in my chest was about to burst. It was my first trip to New York and I was eager to see Lady Liberty, along with other sites on our tour. I reached up and grabbed my dad’s hand, although it had been years since I’d wanted the comfort of his hand covering mine. I must have grown a lot; his hand was not nearly so enveloping as it used to be. Now, in this moment, it seemed as if I was a child again and needed his reassurance as we walked down Liberty Street.

  I heard the loud engine of a plane zooming overhead and I looked up to see a plane flying levelly. I pulled on my father’s hand to show him and smiled, thinking it was like the air show we watched back at home, waiting for it to do a loop de loo in the air.

  I took my eyes off the plane for a moment to pull harder on my dad’s hand when a loaded boom popped my ears. I screamed abruptly and covered my ears. I looked up for reassurance and saw my dad automatically duck and then look around in confusion. His mouth dropped open as he stared toward the sky. My eyes followed his to see flames spouting from a big hole in a large building, like a flame eater’s mouth opening wide after he had swallowed his stick. A flame eater that had swallowed a gallon of gas first. People around us began to scurry away from the building, while others took out their cameras to shoot the orange tongue desperately licking the sides of its steel mouth. I could hear sirens in the distance and my dad pulled me down the street to get out of the way. We stopped outside a pizza shop where a crowd had gathered to gossip and gawk.

  “Bomb.”

  “No, it couldn’t be!”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. Did you know anyone that worked there?”

  “Thank God my son works in #2. He’s a broker. I think they might be evacuating his building.”

  Another plane flew overhead. This time I pulled hard on my dad’s hand to get his attention amid the noise. “Look Dad, another plane!”

  The crowd gasped as another plane crashed like a bullet into the next building.

  “Oh my God! NO!” cried the man who had been speaking earlier. He fell to his knees, and then scrambled to get up as he ran toward the now blazing building. Another man grabbed him, holding him back.

  “It’s okay, the firemen are going in. They’ll get him. What floor is he on?”

  “NO, it’s not okay. He’s on the 92nd floor.” He threw the man off him and ran down the street, zigzagging among the gawkers, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Once again I looked at my dad. He stood rooted to his spot, frozen. Fear throbbed in my ears, making it hard for me to hear. I covered them and the fear traveled down to my chest, making it hard for me to breathe and I doubled over, reaching my hand out to steady me. Little white angels began floating through the air and I watched them land on the ground, turning into ashy bits of paper. I walked to the curb and sat down, hoping that would help the sick feeling I had inside. Tears welled in my eyes and I looked up at the crowd above me. They were still talking, and though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I could see the panic on their faces.

  Suddenly a loud crash came down around me and I looked up toward the buildings to see a huge cloud transcend down the street toward us. Panic struck the crowd and they fell over me in their hurry to run away from the falling gray mountain. I looked around frantically for my dad and yelled, hoping that he would find me, but I could not see him anywhere. I put my arms over my face and threw myself onto the ground as the cloud descended over me, clogging my mouth and stinging my eyes. My chest exploded as I struggled for breath and darkness began to replace the whiteness as I cried over and over in my mind for my dad to help me.

  Daddy!

  “Tristen! Put this over your face.” I was suddenly pulled off the ground and into my dad’s strong arms. He put his jacket over me, protecting me from the ash, and cradled me even though I was almost too big, hugging me close to his chest, and then ran up the street away from the firemen’s sirens.

  My senses first alerted me that I had awoken from my dream. I could feel the prickly sand beneath me and the blistering sun blazing on my face.

  I licked my lips and they stung at the moisture. My swollen tongue traced the cracks on my lips from lying in the sun too long. Instead of opening my eyes I rolled over, letting the loose sand fill my nose and mouth, wishing it could fill the emptiness I felt inside. I thought about my dream, which really was just a memory of my horrible trip to New York. My dad became my hero that day.

  At this thought, the Hole in my chest gashed open again and silent agony escaped my lips. I was too exhausted to cry out loud anymore. It only came out in silent agony now.

  God, why? Why now? Why did you do this to my mom? To me? We need him. He holds us together.

  Guilt beat down over me. They told me that before he went into the coma he had asked the paramedics for me. He had always been there for me and I hadn’t been there for him when he needed me most. I couldn’t force myself to face my dad again during my visit to the hospital, so I just entered the desert from my geography book instead and laid there for what felt like days.

  I thought of my mom. I couldn’t take care of her by myself. How could I? She needed my dad to lean on, to make her laugh, and to be there when she cried. I could never replace him.

  The thought stuck in my throat and brought salty tears to my eyes, surprising me that there was any moisture left in my body. My stomach turned over and I pulled my head up just in time as I dry heaved. Only clear liquid came out because there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up. The heaving only tore The Hole in my stomach more jagged. When I was done I gasped, catching my breath. I wiped the saliva from my mouth, and laid my head back down; the hot sand brought no relief.

  I rolled back over, welcoming the lash of the Saharan sun to beat my penance into me. I closed my eyes, welcoming the pain.

  When I finally decided that I should return to save my mom from the painful death of a son, I returned to the hospital room. My mom said nothing, but I could see the relief in her face when I returned.

  ❦

  At school, I felt like an empty shell. I went from class to class, not paying attention, and not even caring, about anything. My lips began to heal. Ailey bought me aloe vera and it was helping to heal my sunburn but my insides were still seared with nothing to soothe them, no salve for the ache inside.

  Our bond, that had been so strong, was gone, replaced by The Hole I felt inside. Laughter in the hallways that once drew my interest now only sunk me deeper into my depression with the realization that I may never hear his laughter again. I couldn’t even pay attention to Isolda, who had once been my personal angel; the girl who had brought love into my life, was now only the dull remembrance of what used to be. She’d tried to approach me. I could vaguely remember something about Greg, he was mad or something. She was sorry about my dad, was there anything
she could do? I just brushed her off. Trying to be polite, but knowing that I probably wasn’t. She just stared at me, looking as if she wanted to reach out and throttle me, but I no longer cared. All I felt was The Hole and all that seemed to matter was feeding it. I had to feed it, before it devoured me.

  In history class, Mr. Becker, for the most part, acted like everything was normal. We had not talked about what had happened, I had ceased to care about any supposed gift I might possess. I sometimes caught him looking at me with pity. When I came home I either cleaned or, if my mom was there, I went to see my dad. My mom drove me back and forth to the hospital. She took over paying the bills while I did the grocery shopping and chores. The house was always empty, even if my mom and I were both home together. Colors dimmed, music faded. Lucky was comforting and we often napped together in the field in the backyard. My dad stayed the same, day after day. It was my nightmare all over again, although instead of my mom in the hospital it was my dad.

  ❦

  One day, I found that I could no longer ignore the anger inside me. I felt restless and I couldn’t sit still in my classes. When it came time to go to history class I bolted into the classroom to take out my aggression on Mr. Becker. I wanted to blame everything on him and his precious ‘gift’.

  “Why do I have this? How long have you known about it? How is it possible that it can just jerk me around whenever it wants?” I blurted when I saw him. “And how long have you known about Ailey?” I added.

  He was with another student and he looked at me like I was crazy. The girl looked at me curiously. I didn’t know if people were still gossiping about me and Ailey. If so, my outburst probably wouldn’t help. Too late now.

  He said something to her and she nodded and walked off, while avoiding looking at me.

  “Tristen,” he whispered. “I understand that you’re going through a lot right now, but you must understand that we can’t possibly talk about this in public. We must never speak of it in front of others.”