by Alana Siegel
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Chapter Seven: One Direction
The building currently housing Pandora High School may have dark and dingy halls, but they were filled with vibrant distractions. I fought to concentrate as a sophomore boy with a backward baseball hat chased after his friend, begging to copy his homework. I sidestepped to avoid having my feet trampled, and instead I knocked into four giggling freshman girls watching a senior flex before grabbing a book from his locker. When I finally managed to get around the group, I almost got sucked into a teacher's lecture on the effects of global warming.
Turning the corner, I huffed out a breath. It wouldn't matter if my favorite male celebrity ran by naked. Nothing was going to stop me from achieving my goal. I was headed in one direction: to Mr. Dimon's office.
I stayed awake all night, analyzing Lynn's story about Prometheus. In the morning, I got up feeling unrested and full of questions.
Why was Prometheus exiled from the Meta? Does he really want to empower the Gifted with the knowledge of the mulberry elixir? And what was the point of creating a destructive female Elste?
All the hours missing sleep in an attempt to arrive at answers about Prometheus were wasted. By the time I got to school, I decided I didn't care about Prometheus. The only way to save my friends was to go directly to Mr. Dimon and get some answers.
What was the worst he could do? Tell me to go away? Does he have the guards at the Meta on speed dial and every time I ask a question, Helen gets tortured?
I bit my bottom lip, feeling unsure. It sounded silly and unreasonable, but they were slyer than we thought. They found us in the middle of the Nevada desert!
I stopped walking. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't threaten Mr. Dimon.
But wait, Mr. Dimon was merely a pawn in Prometheus's game. The Meta only found us because Prometheus wanted them to. He put the idea of love in Justin's head, and when the superintendent caught on that there was a spark between a Horus boy and an Elste girl, he followed us. Mr. Dimon wasn't as scary or as well-thought out as Prometheus; He was just good at taking hints and following orders.
I nodded my head and kept walking. Mr. Dimon's office was at the end of the next hallway. All I needed to do was make a right and continue straight. I picked up my speed, power walking around a pimpley freshman, a couple kissing in front of their lockers, and a few lacrosse players tossing a ball between them.
I was practically jogging as I rounded the corner, which was why I let out a grunt as I crashed into a tall torso and spindly limbs.
“Olivia, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you coming around the corner,” Mary, a friend of Jaime's from the basketball team, apologized and reached out a hand to balance me.
“No, it was my fault. Don't worry about it,” I said. I was hoping to continue down the hall again, but she wasn't ready to let go of my arm. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
Mary's eyebrows formed a concerned upside-down V on the top of her head. “I'm actually glad we ran into each other. I'm worried about Jaime. She hasn't returned any of my texts or calls,” she said.
“I'm sure she's just busy,” I replied, waving my hand like it was no big deal. Mary didn't look convinced, and she wasn't going to let me off easy.
“I stopped by Jaime's house yesterday and her mom said she was selected for a special honors trip,” she explained, hinting she knew there was more to the story. I was at a loss for words. I had wondered what lies Mr. Dimon fed to our friend's families. We were banned from visiting them, of course. I could feel the fiery anger growing inside.
I straightened my back, ready to let out a string of angry names for Mr. Dimon when someone let out a yip of fright. I shifted my weight and peered around Mary.
I saw Mrs. Wolf backing into her nurse's office in an odd sort of way. Her mouth was set in an O-shape like she was preparing to scream, and her hands were raised and open by her sides like she was trying not to make any sudden movements. That would have been strange enough, but her eyes were wide with terror and focused on me.
Mary glanced over her shoulder to see what I was staring at. Fear crossed her face as she looked at Mrs. Wolf. “Olivia, what's going on?” she blurted out, looking back at me.
I pasted as genuine a smile as I could manage on my face. “Nothing; I'm sure Jaime’s just very busy. They still give you homework on school trips, you know,” I said, trying to comfort Mary, but I knew my voice sounded hollow. I took her by the elbow and led her away from Mrs. Wolf's office.
“Okay, you must be right,” Mary said, not exactly convinced, but I think my insistence was making her uncomfortable. “If you speak to her, tell her to give me a call.” She walked down the hall like she couldn't wait to get away from me. I felt guilty that I hadn't assuaged her concerns.
I turned back toward Mr. Dimon's office with less enthusiasm than before. I snuck a peek in Mrs. Wolf's Pepto-Bismol-pink office but she was gone. Was she scared of something? Was she scared of...me?
My snail’s pace was less determined as I walked forward. Sure, I was angry with Mrs. Wolf for cooperating with the Meta, but I'm sure she had a good reason. And yes, I had the power to cause great pain, but I would never hurt her.
“Liv!” Luca's sneakers screeched as he came to a halt in front of me and all worries that Mrs. Wolf was scared of me disappeared from my head. “I'm so glad I caught you!”
I was still upset with Luca because he hadn't shared important information about Prometheus that might help find our friends. I wasn't as angry with Luca as I was with Mr. Dimon, but I still felt my anger reignite and my rose scent blossom. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the hallway fainted with exhaustion by the way I whipsawed their emotions with my Gift.
I turned my steely glare on Luca. He grunted as he felt the stab of my anger. I stood my ground, teaching him a lesson.
Luca took a step back and leaned his hands on his knees. “Olivia, I'm sorry I didn't tell you that Prometheus isn't Gifted and that he used to work for the Meta. I only found out from Graham a week ago,” he said through the pain.
“You didn't think it would be information I should know?” I asked. The anger was wearing off. My voice was full of disappointment. I was already letting up on my Gift. “Luca, I didn't think we kept secrets from each other,” I said in an even softer voice.
Looking into my eyes, he stood up straight and took a step closer to me. “I don't like keeping secrets from you, which is why I have something else to tell you,” he said, but the bell rang and we had to sprint to class.
* * * *
Chapter Eight: Mom Knows Best
“Why does Derek want you to bring mulberry tarts next time you visit him?” Mom asked while stirring shrimp scampi with a wooden spoon. I shrugged my shoulders, but kept my eyes glued to the email from Derek.
Mom knew her children better than the back of her own hand. Mulberries were on Derek's list of least favorite foods. I was the only one of my Gifted friends who could stand them. I thought they were delicious. It was an odd trait that went hand in hand with the fact that I was a female Elste and immune to the berry's ability to render the Gifted powerless. I thought Derek's insistence on bringing mulberry tarts was code for 'stick it to the Meta.'
His email had been lighthearted and vague. I thought it was obvious that someone had forced him to write it to keep up the guise that he was busy at school, and his lack of visits shouldn't concern Mom and Dad. I couldn't believe the Meta would stoop so low.
“I don't like the tone of the email,” Mom said, reaching for the cordless phone in the corner of our kitchen. Nice try, Meta. You can't fool a mother's instinct. “I'll give him a quick call to check in. He should be in his dorm studying now, anyway.”
Panic struck. I rushed over and placed my hand on top of hers. “Mom, I don't think that's such a good idea.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together suspiciously. “Olivia, what's going on?” Our hands were still clasped on the phone.
I gave her my best it’s-no-big-dea
l look and let go of the phone. I turned away because I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. It dawned on me that having Derek send an email was smarter than I gave the Meta credit for. They wanted me to break Mr. Dimon's rules. ‘Stay quiet or your friends get hurt’ was harder when they were testing me. It was a good thing I never made it to Mr. Dimon's office today.
Dad entered the kitchen at that moment. He pushed our ragamuffin cats, Swisher and Carmelo, out of his way. They let out a meow in protest. Dad was too busy opening and closing drawers to notice the awkward moment between Mom and me, and I was grateful.
Mom's laser-like stare lasted a few seconds longer, and then I watched her place the phone back on the counter. At that moment, she must have decided getting to the bottom of my drama was more pressing than worrying about her other child. I was certain she would be able to see right through my lies. I attempted to keep my facial features as smooth as possible.
Her frustration with Dad's endless search for something in the kitchen won over her attention. “What are you looking for!?” she asked with more force than usual. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans before she could turn her attention back to me.
“I can't find the notebook Derek uses to track the score of our fantasy team,” Dad told her, without stopping his search.
“You can call him after dinner and ask him where he put it,” she instructed him.
“No!” I shouted. Both of them looked at me with shocked faces. “I was going to send him an email later. I can ask,” I said, without looking at their eyes. A few days without Derek checking in wouldn't worry them too much. He was a freshman, enjoying college life. However, if Derek didn't return an inquiring phone call, their level of worry would definitely increase. I needed to delay them.
I could feel Mom's eyes on me again, but I started shoveling shrimp on my plate instead of letting her read my face. Dad finally noticed the tension in the room and followed my lead, gathering food on his plate instead of igniting the fire by asking questions.
By the time the three of us had settled at the table, Mom seemed more relaxed. I breathed a sigh of relief and lifted a forkful of seafood to my mouth.
“How are things with Helen and Jaime? You haven't said much about them since your trip to Utah,” Mom inquired. It sounded like she was hoping to change the subject to something I would feel more comfortable talking about. If she only knew what she was really asking!
I almost spit out the half-chewed food in my mouth. “They're good,” I responded, vying for time. Mom wouldn't be okay with such a short answer.
I shoved spaghetti in my mouth, pretending it was too full to speak. She looked at me, expectantly.
“They are on a school trip for honors students,” I lied, using Mr. Dimon's fable. My insides were cringing. I was lying to my mom and keeping the Meta's ugly secrets.
She was silent as I pretended to be focused on scraping my fork along the bottom of my plate. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I glanced up at her. She took that as her cue to push on.
“Is this about Max? Is he bullying you again? I can go down to the school and speak to someone about it,” she said. Concern and worry dripped from every word.
“No, Mom. Max went on the same trip as Helen and Jaime,” I explained, trying to hide my frustration. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to ask her advice and remove some of the burden I was carrying. Plus, she deserved to hear the truth. Her only son was locked up somewhere.
“Max is in honors classes?” she asked, her eyebrows twisted high on her forehead.
“Errr...yes,” I said, and knew it was too late to explain everything to her. We were in too much trouble; years of plotting and scheming had gone into this plan.
She placed her hand on top of mine. She knew I was lying. I battled with the longing to tell her, but I stopped myself. It was more than the fact that she wouldn't understand. She was defenseless and vulnerable without a Gift, and I would be turning her into a target.
“Olivia,” she asked in a softer voice, “is this about Justin? I noticed he drives you to school now.”
I actually tasted blood as I bit off my hurtful response to my mom. I was angry with her, but not because she was prying, or because she believed my problems were merely teenage melodrama. I was angry because she didn't recognize that I was stronger than I was before. Powerful enough to cause destruction greater than Max or Justin could even imagine. I was not her broken little girl anymore. I was the female Elste.
* * * *
Chapter Nine: Horus
A giggled escaped from my lips when Justin and I tiptoed past the school gym holding hands. It was drowned out by the sound of a dozen basketballs being dribbled up and down the shiny wood floors. Only seconds later, the teacher blew his whistle and the drilling students stopped bouncing their balls. The thrill of the silence trickled down my spine.
“Shhh,” Justin hushed me, but he was smiling when he looked back.
I did a little skip to catch up to him. “I've never cut class before,” I whispered with my lips close to his ear.
He turned and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Don't worry. You're not missing much. They never teach anything important during the last period of the day,” he said and paused to gaze at me. “I know because I used to cut math class to check on you, and I still got an A on every test.”
My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure if it was because of what Justin said or the way his sexy lips moved. They tilted upward at the corners because he caught me watching.
I reminded myself to stay focused and look in his eyes instead, but he had already pressed his mouth against mine. I officially lost control over all my senses. The kiss was warm and passionate, and it stopped me from thinking of anything at all.
When he pulled back, I took a deep breath. The buzz of his Gift causing my blood to race through my veins felt familiar and comforting. “I'm still mad at you, you know,” I said and smacked him, playfully, on the chest. The lovesick look on my face didn't support my words.
Feeling defiant, I turned on my heel and walked away with my chin held high. I stole a glance at Justin before turning the corner. He stood in the same spot wearing an exaggerated frown with pouty lips and sad puppy dog eyes. He was so adorable that another giggle escaped before I dashed under the metal chain that blocked an unused staircase.
Justin rounded the corner. “I know you're mad,” he said, taking two steps at a time to catch up with me and grab hold of my hand. “I could tell by the silent treatment you gave me on the car ride to school this morning.”
I gave him a shamefaced smile. I knew giving the silent treatment was immature. “Well, I am mad. And hurt. And offended. And I could go on,” I said, mimicking his long, frowning face.
For two days now, Justin kept quiet that he’d known Prometheus wasn't Gifted. He didn't offer an apology or bring up the topic for discussion. I knew he felt guilty about not sharing it with me. It was obvious by the way he was doubling his efforts to protect me, if that was even possible.
I understood that he wasn't going to open up to me completely in one week's time. He was used to keeping secrets to himself. Still, I had a right to be mad for a few days.
We were walking across the long and dark basement hallway, but I knew he could see my face in the thin streams of light that filtered through the windows above us. This walk used to frighten me. Not anymore. I knew there were scarier things in the world than dark hallways.
Justin pulled me close again and pressed his lips gently against mine. “I'm sorry, Liv. Always have been and always will be,” he whispered.
A knot in my stomach tightened at the reminder of the years of self-blame he was carrying. The truth was, I didn't need to hear his apologies. I forgave him the moment we left the Gifted Program meeting two nights ago. That's what you do when you love someone.
I put my hands on both sides of his face and looked into his sad eyes. I kissed his lips and brushed my hands down his arms until mine were intertwined
with his. I would find a way to make him feel whole again, to make him realize none of this was his fault, but now wasn't the time to approach the subject.
I didn't want to talk about what came next. I wasn't ready to tell him that I planned to go on this quest alone and shoulder the pain by myself. Today, he simply needed me to be his support system. I would worry about that conversation once I figured out a plan.
I led him into the prop room and pushed him down to the couch. Then, I squeezed in behind him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and pulling his back against my chest. The mood ring he gave me shined golden yellow from my finger.
I thought back to the pep rally last fall when he pointed out the Gifted constellations in the night sky. If I was going to solve all these mysteries, Justin needed to share his knowledge. “What other things do you know about the Gifted?” I asked, treading lightly.
I felt the rise and fall of his chest in silence for a few seconds, like he was thinking of the best place to start.
“It was obvious two years ago that Prometheus was a psycho, and I needed to watch my back, but I had also discovered I could melt metal and control water. I was scared,” he began.
“You were scared?” I asked, incredulous. The words slipped out before I thought them through. Justin's back straightened like I had insulted him, which wasn't my intention. Sure, he was protective, clever, and secretive, but I never thought he was afraid.
“I was scared of accidentally hurting the people I loved. I had no clue how my Gift worked. To me, it was a curse…still is.”
I had never thought of it like that. Since the very first day I received my Gift, I had Jaime to share my worries. Even though Ms. Magos had selfish motives, she had provided insight and guidance for the changes in my life. I realized I had the whole Gifted Program's support from the beginning, while Justin was alone. I hugged him while I waited for him to continue.