There were six elements . . . Who knew? And we only knew of five of them . . .
Pa, Ricky, Skylar, Chris, and myself . . . so who was the sixth? My mind raced as I tried to find someone who personified Darkness, but as I remembered the ghastly expression that had filled Chris’ face in the hallway, I felt the shudders returning again.
The whites of his eyes had darkened to a sickening black, tainting the beauty of his eyes in a wonderful way that made me want to please him. His mouth had twisted in an evilly seductive smile that only pulled me in closer . . .
What had happened? What did this mean?
As I gazed at Chris, ignoring everything else around me, it was hard to attest to having seen that. His face was so calm and so pure. The mere possibility that he could be . . .
I pushed those thoughts out of my head, trying—for once—to actually pay attention in Calculus. Yeah . . . I know . . . I was even starting to scare myself.
Pleasure Is Pain
Chris and I walked into the cafeteria, our arms brushing as we pushed through the billions of stupid people standing in line to eat the nasty school food. He sifted through easily, allowing the blue haze to permeate the room again.
He found us a booth in the corner of the cafeteria, away from the hustle and bustle of freaked-out freshman facing the line-cutting seniors.
“That must come in handy an awful lot,” I whispered as I pulled out my bag lunch. I dumped out the contents—a bag of Cheetos, a turkey and Swiss sandwich—courtesy of Ricky—a little pouch of Gushers, and a bottle of water—and looked up to find Chris sitting there, a tray in front of him.
“When did you . . .?” I started to ask, but then I realized the blue haze was fading away. “You just froze time?” I asked in bewilderment. “But I didn’t feel anything . . .”
“You’ll never feel anything,” he explained in clipped whispers. “If I’m not touching you when the time axis stops, you’ll never be aware that it ever stopped. To you, time will continue in a line the way it always has.”
“Oh,” was the only reply I could manage to say.
“Yeah,” he replied just as awkwardly, moving his fork through the little salad he had bought. I took a bite of my favorite sandwich—secretly wishing Ricky was here so I could hug him for it—while Chris watched me. He looked extremely uneasy, like something was bothering him.
I put down the sandwich and opened the bottle of water and offered it to him.
“Drink it,” I ordered sternly, “It’ll help.”
He chuckled, his muscles tense, but he took it. He drank half of it in one gulp and set it down. His eyes looked more relaxed, but his muscles were still flexed, almost as if he was waiting for something to jump out at him.
“Is there someone here?” I asked, my blood freezing in my veins. His eyebrows sunk down to almost cover his eyes, which were scanning the cafeteria like the eyes of a leopard tracking its prey. The look of hostility in his eyes frightened me, but not more than whatever was out there trying to attack me.
“I think so,” he finally answered, slouching into the booth conspicuously. “Maybe I’m just paranoid. . . .” he trailed off in a grumble, murdering his salad with the metal fork in his hand.
I breathed out an erratic gasping sound. I tried to control my breathing, but it continued to come out in uncontrolled pants or long breaths that left me lightheaded. Chris watched me warily, his hands on the surface of the table, palm-up.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s after me?” I managed to finally ask, bringing my golden eyes to meet his sapphire ones.
His eyes seemed to change as I spoke my question; they froze over the beautiful flowing river and made them ice blue and cold.
“Because it’s something you can’t protect yourself from,” he answered. The silence following his question seemed to linger on forever; like someone had just shot a bullet and the birds had flown away. I forced myself to swallow.
“Something I can’t . . . protect myself from?” I asked slowly, my words freezing in my throat, trapping my screams from escaping in the middle of the populated lunchroom.
“I’m here to protect you,” he answered sincerely, but the hard stare didn’t melt from his eyes. “That’s my job. And I believe, in order to do that, I need to keep her identity a secret from you.”
I just nodded, but remembered the pronoun he had just let slip off his tongue. Her . . .
I looked around me, feeling my breath beginning to calm itself against its own will. I brought my gaze back to Chris, to see his hands on top of mine.
“Stay calm,” he advised with a kind smile. “I’ll protect you. I did last time, and I will this time. You have my word.”
I felt the calmness radiate from his hands into my skin, into my bloodstream. It felt so wonderful to be carefree and innocent. Why couldn’t it be that way forever?
I sighed, pushing the food away from me.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked with concern. “You really should eat.”
I shook my head. “I lost my appetite for food,” I said in a whisper.
“Your appetite for food?” he asked. “Does that imply that you have some other kind of appetite?”
I chuckled. “Not necessarily.”
He smiled wryly, pressing his hands against mine.
I looked away briefly, gazing at the graying sky through the closed windows. For some reason I felt trapped, like the wind and the light, the water and fire and earth, were calling to me to join them . . .
But I couldn’t . . .
I looked back at Chris just when the bell rang, and he stood up almost instantaneously in a beautifully smooth motion, like ripples of water over stones. I walked beside him all the way to our Econ class, which was really tiny considering there were a total of nine people there.
And we were a pretty diverse group: there were me and Chris, two twin brothers who had dandruff and big glasses, the school’s hottest basketball star, a clique of preppy girls with no brains whatsoever, and the same emo kid that was in my AP Calculus class.
Our teacher was a really nice old lady with white blond hair and soft gray eyes. Mrs. Tsukino was Asian, so most of the preppy girls made fun of her, but she was really, really nice.
By either coincidence or whatever you want to call it, Chris and I ended up beside each other again. The emo kid was on my other side, and the leader of the preps, Christina Somebody-or-Other, was on Chris’ other side.
That Christina chick kept eyeing him up, but Chris didn’t seem to notice. He was too preoccupied with the notes on the board that Mrs. Tsukino was writing. She was talking simultaneously and making motions with her hand. I half hoped the chalk would slip from her fingers and clonk Christina right in the face.
I studiously took notes the entire period, or at least most of it until that creepy emo kid looked over at me.
He seemed to be staring at me, his brown eyes so dark they looked black. His expression looked apologetic, almost regretful, as he put the note on my desk.
I stared back at him, feeling kind of bad for him, and took the note from where he placed it on the desk. It took me a second to realize it was a poem. It was written in such perfect type that didn’t belong to the hands of an emo kid. I read it at least three times before looking back at him in surprise.
From the light comes the dark
The five that rise will fall
The broken and the desolate
Will once again take all
Her lovely veil of shadows
Shall swallow up the light
The world once filled with happiness
Shall now be drowned in night.
Red, Blue, Green, and Brown
Light and Dark shall share
Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth
How many will she spare?
I stared at the emo kid, whose eyes were full of pity and remorse. He took the poem from me and folded it several times. Without saying a word, he slipped it into my hand and closed my delicate finge
rs over the paper.
“Keep it,” he said surprisingly kind and gentle. “It means something to you.”
I managed to smile weakly at the emo kid, keeping my fingers clutched tightly around the note in my hand. Chris hadn’t even noticed this little exchange at all—a fact that disturbed yet fascinated me—because he was still staring at the black board. I was about to turn and show the note to him when that stupid Christina chick poked his shoulder.
I could’ve killed her.
She touched his shoulder lightly, but sensually, and pointed to the place where she had purposefully just thrown her pencil. Chris raised his eyebrows and gazed back at me for a split second, confusion clear in his eyes. He sighed and retrieved her pencil, handing it back to her just as the teacher completed her lecture.
“Thank you,” she purred like a nasally cat, clutching Chris’ hand like it was a mother-effing life jacket. “That was so kind of—”
“Don’t mention it,” Chris interrupted her happily, but the tone of annoyance was thick and easy to detect in his voice. “Really,” he spat under his breath, “Don’t mention it.”
The bell rang, leading us to our final class of the day: Band. As we left, Christina batted her eyelashes at Chris, who ignored her studiously, slipping his fingers through mine. She stalked away, the pain in her eyes causing me to smile up at him.
“What the hell is with her?” Chris asked in irritation, frowning as we walked into the empty band room.
“She likes you. Isn’t it obvious?” I grunted in irritation.
“But why?” he asked, and I knew from his tone he was implying that he honestly didn’t know. I sighed impatiently.
“Well, yeah,” I muttered, “Who wouldn’t like you? I mean, you’re nice, friendly, downright hilarious when you want to be, and you’re beautiful . . .” I trailed off as I put my books down on my desk in the Drum Major office.
“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” he asked quizzically, gently running his finger down my cheek. I smiled and felt the blood rush to my cheeks in delight.
“Not necessarily,” I managed to breathe out in a whisper. He smiled back at me, his blue eyes glowing in the dark of the office. I could see the golden shine of my own eyes reflecting through the room, mixing with his to create a gorgeous fusion of the ocean and the sun.
“We’d better get out there,” he advised smoothly, motioning to the band room. “If I know Ms. Altera as well as you do, then she’ll be kind of pissed if we start this up late.”
I laughed. “Nah, she won’t care. We’re her favorites,” I smiled a closed-eyed smile and his answering chuckle made my heart speed up. “But, yeah, we have to get out there some time.”
“Let’s go then,” he replied. “We have all day together after this.”
His words made me so happy that I had to actually try to make myself less happy. Usually the unhappiness came on its own, fueled by my lonely life. Sure, I had Ricky and Pa, but when they weren’t around, everything was too quiet for me.
But that was all over now.
I walked into the band room with Chris, putting my hand up in a fist to signal them all to stop playing and listen.
“All right, guys,” I said, my voice overflowing with joy, “All I’m gonna ask of you today is that we run the show once through and that you work on your scales for the Christmas concert. I’ll let Chris direct you today so you guys can get used to him conducting. Don’t forget, we also have practice this Thursday after school. And report time for Friday is 4:30. We’re playing at Blackhawk, so we need you here early. Chris,” I said, motioning for him to come up, “They’re all yours.”
He smiled, winking at me. “Nicely done.”
“Oh, shut up,” I retorted, finding it almost impossible to not return the smile.
I stepped off the podium, letting my hand brush against his arm as he ascended to lead the band. I was still smiling while he began the half-time show, keeping my eyes on him the entire time.
About halfway through the second song, Ms. Altera came by, her beady little eyes examining him.
“How’s he doing?” she asked curiously.
I shrugged, not taking my eyes off him. “He’s doing excellently, in my opinion. His technique is certainly admirable.”
I saw her nod from the corner of my eye. “I’m glad you feel so comfortable with him in such a short time,” she replied, letting a smile peek through for a split second.
“Yeah. I am, too,” I said, distracted by the beautiful shine of his eyes. He would glance back at me every few seconds and smile, sending my heart racing and beating wildly against my rib cage. He cut off the final song with a finesse that seemed to suit him now.
“That was a great job, guys,” he said to them, smiling kindly. Half the girls in the band exhaled in awe at his eyes. “Just work on your scales for the remainder of class and I’ll run the show again tomorrow for review.”
“Okay,” half of them sighed, while the rest of the band played obnoxiously on their horns.
He stepped down from the podium, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“How’d I do?” he asked as Ms. Altera smiled at him and retreated into her office.
“Amazing, as usual with everything you do,” I said the second part under my breath, but his sharp ears still heard me, and he smiled.
“Thank you,” he replied, leaning in to put his lips at my ear. I could feel the eyes of every other girl in the room focusing on what was happening right now, and I felt my heart speed when Chris’ hand moved my hair out of the way so his teeth could graze my earlobe. I shivered, pulling away with a shy smile.
His eyes were glowing so brightly I wondered why no one else seemed to notice . . . And the fact that my golden shine was reflecting into his eyes must have meant that my eyes were glowing as well.
He smiled back at me, winking his eye in a way that reminded me of my father when I was a child. I sat down in one of the chairs, patting the one beside me. He sat down with a guy-like thump and turned his body to face mine, propping his feet on my knees.
“Gee, thanks,” I spat in mock misery when he propped up his feet.
“Anytime,” he said with a wink, scooting his chair closer while he dug his ankles gently into my side. “So, what did you want to do after school today?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Hmmm,” I trailed off, putting my finger to my chin. “We could always go to your house . . .”
He smiled brilliantly. “Sounds good to me. What do you want to do?”
I smiled to myself, appraising my sudden need for something that I couldn’t voice out loud, least of all in a classroom full of high school students.
“Whatever, I suppose,” I said with a wink as the final bell rang. He jumped up from the chair with a dizzyingly smooth motion to take my hand.
“Come with me,” he said, tugging my arm. “My board is in my locker.”
“Your board?” I asked, giving him a question-mark face.
He chuckled. “You’ll see what I mean,” he replied. “Cool people like me don’t need cars to go places. I use my board.”
“Ah . . .” I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. I walked with him to his locker, briefly touching his hand with mine. His skin was cool, but it felt warm at the same time, his blood pumping a beautiful beat of heat from his skin to mine.
He opened the locker with a touch, not even bothering to use his combination. It opened in response to the patterns on his palm.
The inside of his locker was crazy—all blue, seashells everywhere—and a picture of me was taped to the inside of the locker door. . . I smiled as I saw my picture from this year’s yearbook posted below his favorite band: Hollywood Undead.
“Step back, would you?” he asked kindly. “He has a tendency to get excited when the sun is near him.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked through my laughter.
“You’re the sun,” he said, his voice full of adoration. “You’re the light that feeds him and me.�
�
I stepped back, gazing into his eyes. They were a beautiful, flowing sapphire blue, deep and luscious like the depths of the ocean. He smiled and put his fingers to his lips, whistling.
“Come on,” he said, “It’s time for us to go home.”
I heard something that sounded like waves crashing against the rocks on a ragged beach and a split second later Chris was holding a surfboard in his hands.
It was blue with intricate designs upon it that looked like waves. I reached out slowly, wanting to touch it.
“It doesn’t bite,” he said matter-of-factly, bringing my hand closer. “It doesn’t talk either,” he added, and I had to force myself not to smile. “It’s just a magically inclined inanimate object.”
“Magically inclined?” I repeated, touching my fingers to the board. I gasped when my fingers caressed the surface of the magical instrument, marveling and wondering if my sensation of touch and my sensation of sight were trying to deceive each other. The board was wet, almost as though when I touched its surface, I had just dropped my hand into a pool of cool water. The surface of the board itself was dry and unmoving, but it felt like a river was coursing under the tips of my fingers.
I looked up at Chris, who was smiling in delight.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” he asked, patting the board affectionately.
“I’ll say,” I retorted, completely dumbfounded.
He chuckled. “This is the way I get around.”
I guess the look on my face was so stunned that Chris felt the need to clutch my hand again and help me onto the now-levitating magical water board.
It was floating about six inches off the ground, hovering there and waiting for us to step onto it.
“This’ll be a bit disorienting,” he warned. “It’ll feel a little weird to you, so if you need to, close your eyes.”
I nodded, taking his hand as he stepped onto the board. It made a soft humming sound when his foot touched it, and when my foot came in contact with the surface of the board, it felt like my feet had been submerged in a puddle of water, but they weren’t getting wet at all.
Poison Page 9