The Rescue (Olivia Hart and the Gifted Program Book 3)

by Alana Siegel

  “Who is she?” I asked, without taking my eyes off the picture.

  “Hannah Rogers was your great-great-great-great-grandmother. Born in the 1820s, she lived in New York when women were not considered equals to men,” Mom recited, like she had heard the story told the same way many times before or read it in a text book.

  Her voice became deeper. “She was quick friends with ladies like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. They attended all the suffragist conventions, fighting for women's right to vote.” Mom looked proud and whimsical. It reminded me of a look I often saw on Chelsea's face.

  I was awed. I recognized the names of the other women from Global Studies class. It was strange to find out one of my relatives took part in our history. Why didn't we learn about her in class?

  Mom continued in a more relaxed manner, “I remember my Great-Grandma…Nana…telling stories. Apparently, Hannah had a knack for drama when she was younger. Nana would call you 'Hannah' if you were acting up. It was the running joke in the family.

  “If I remember Nana's stories correctly, Hannah was a mastermind at children's games, never lost a match, cats and dogs followed her around the house, and somehow she convinced her baby brother to do all her sewing chores,” Mom shared with a smile.

  She breathed in. “Cinnamon. Every time it smelled like cinnamon, Nana would mention Hannah. It was the like the smell was linked with the woman.” Mom’s smile grew even wider. I couldn't force my lips to join her. I wanted to scream. Hannah and I shared more than timeless jewelry. We shared a Gift.

  Mom stared at my frozen face. The smile disappeared. “Despite her talent for dramatics, she took a back-seat later in life. She cared greatly for her passions, especially equality. However, others stood in the spotlight while she cheered from the sidelines.”

  I couldn't look in her eyes. I was afraid I might cry. Why did Hannah step back? She was a powerful female Elste. I knew it. Was I destined to do the same thing? Would others take on my cause?

  Mom broke the silence. It seemed like she was following my thoughts even though I didn't say them out loud. “After this photograph, Hannah shows up in pictures without the necklace.”

  I sucked in a gasp of air. The chain yanked down hard against the back of my neck. Where did the necklace go for one hundred and fifty years?

  “Where did you get that necklace, Olivia?” Mom asked, cautiously.

  I jumped to my feet. “This necklace? I told you, it was a gift. Couldn't possibly be the same one,” I told her and screwed up my face to show I believed it was impossible. I could see Mom didn't believe it for a second.

  “Err...I have to go...uh…call Chelsea,” I lied and got up to escape from Mom's prying eyes. She reached out her arms to me, and I felt a stab in the chest.

  “Olivia, wait,” Mom begged me. I had no choice. I had to go. I heard her gasp as I passed by, and I knew she smelled my Gifted rose scent.

  * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen: Trust Me

  Mr. Rowling licked his pointer finger and used the moist end to count five sheets of paper from the top of the stack. Then he passed them to a brown-haired girl sitting in the first row. A few moments later, my copy landed on my desk. In bold letters across the top was the title of Martin Luther King, Jr's speech, “I Have a Dream.”

  I smoothed the ends of my hair between my fingers, dwelling on my personal drama rather than Mr. Rowling's assignment. I managed to put my mom and Hannah Rogers in the back of my mind, but now I couldn't stop thinking about Luca and his deceit. For weeks, he had information that could help us save our friends, and he kept it to himself. I needed to be able to trust Luca, but he wasn't making it easy.

  “King was a master of literary and rhetorical devices. His word choice matched the strength of his message,” Mr. Rowling explained to the class, beginning his lesson. I continued to play with my hair and brood over Luca's avoidance of the truth. “Olivia, can you give us an example of a literary term King used in his speech to help spread his message?” Mr. Rowling asked, pulling me out of my reverie. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I might be able to inflict intense pain and send people to their knees, begging for mercy, but getting called on in class still caused my heart rate to speed up. I brought my hand to my necklace, instinctively.

  I dug for an answer to Mr. Rowling's question, but all I could think of were Gifted problems. I had no idea what he was asking. Unfortunately, I knew he wouldn't let me pass on the question. “Err...the...err...ability to charm,” I said, quietly. It was the only thing I could think of. The classroom erupted in laughter. I could feel my face flush.

  Mr. Rowling waited for his students to quiet down. “In a way, that is correct. King was hoping to charm the crowd or rally the people, which he emphasized using parallelism.

  “Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed,” Mr. Rowling chanted to the class and accented each line with vigorous hand gestures.

  It was an interesting example, and it sparked my curiosity. Was Martin Luther King Jr.'s use of literary tools and his ability to charm the masses linked to a Gift that Derek and Luca also had a knack for?

  The bell rang, and the day's lesson was forgotten. I jumped out of my seat, relieved that the class was over. I looked across the room. All I wanted to do was discuss Luca's secrets with Chelsea.

  I zeroed in on her huddled in the back corner with Lynn, their blondes head close together. It was strange to see Lynn close to anyone. I didn't like the way she became quick buddies with Chelsea. After the damage she caused me and my brother without showing any remorse, I had a hard time believing she only wanted to be friends with Chelsea.

  I walked over and gave them a tentative smile.

  “So you put two and two together?” Lynn asked. I stared at her blankly, hugging my books in my arms.

  “Martin Luther King Jr. was an Elste. They say he glowed golden when he gave speeches and always carried around a shiny metal peace symbol. He put his Gift to good use, working towards freedom and civil rights.” Lynn said like it was obvious. Then, she eyed me as if wondering if I would live up to the Elste family name. I didn't say a word. Chelsea and Lynn exchanged a knowing glance.

  I was suddenly frustrated with the two of them. Chelsea was my friend first. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked Chelsea, not caring if it was rude to exclude Lynn.

  “Sure,” Chelsea replied. I didn't look in Lynn's direction.

  “I can tell when I'm not wanted,” she said, rolled her eyes, and walked away.

  Chelsea crossed her arms and asked, “What's so secretive you can't say it in front of Lynn? She's on our side!”

  I wasn't so sure, but I didn't tell her that. Instead, I adjusted the books in my arms. She clicked her tongue in frustration, and waited for me to explain.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Luca,” I told her, however I already regretted bringing it up.

  “Is this is about your ridiculous love triangle?” she asked without looking up from packing up her books.

  It was at times like this I missed Helen. She would have understood, immediately. Still, I knew Chelsea would help me if I needed her. I kept my feet planted.

  “Did you ever notice Luca tends to withhold useful information? He means well, but he always does the wrong thing,” I said.

  She looked up from packing her books and stared at me like I had just announced something obvious, like the sky was blue. “He's the other Elste in the original Pyramus and Thisbe story,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You know, Pyramus comes back from fighting in the Gifted War. He goes to meet Thisbe in the garden, but before he reaches her, a hidden Elste kills him. An Elste who knew all their secrets,” she said, dismissively.

  “That's right! An Elste kills Pyramus!” I shouted slightly loud
er than I meant to. “What does that have to do with Luca?” I asked, lowering my voice.

  “Luca is the other Elste. He knows all the secrets,” she explained. I gave her a confused look.

  “Luca has the same internal battle as the Elste in the story, unsure of what is right or wrong. If you lived through the first Gifted War and knew the forbidden union was about to happen again, you might be torn about what to do, too,” she said. I was speechless. I remembered Pyramus was killed, but I never thought about who killed him, and why he did it.

  Killing was a drastic decision, but if it saved thousands of innocent lives, perhaps it was worth it. Would Luca sacrifice my happiness for the sake of others?

  Chelsea didn't give me time to process it. She grabbed my elbow and led me into the hallway. “We have bigger problems than Luca's moral compass. Apparently, the Meta is spreading propaganda to scare everyone,” she told me.

  I didn't understand why she was so concerned with the Meta's political activities. As long as our friends weren't being tortured, the Meta could preach about whatever they wanted. “Who told you that?” I asked.

  “I listened to Mrs. Wolf's conversation with her sister,” she explained without looking at me. It was exactly what I didn't want her to do.

  “Chels, I thought you were going to stop sneaking around invisibly. It's too dangerous!” I scolded her.

  I saw a renewed fierceness when she finally looked up at me. “Lynn thinks it's a good start. We think we should listen to Mr. Dimon's phone conversations, too,” she said, getting strident with me. “We're like Margaret Kemble Gage, spying on the British army during the Revolutionary War,” she added, dreamily.

  “What are you talking about? Who is Margaret Kemble Gage?!” I asked, confused about how we got off topic.

  “She was the famous Hadean who tipped off Paul Revere,” Chelsea spat, defensively. She was clearly annoyed that we weren't on the same page.

  I shook my head as if to clear it and get back on topic. “Why would you take Lynn's advice over mine? She's the one who used our own friend as bait. She's the one who snuck around the school starting fights between the boys, and she's the one who faked a relationship with my brother, just to screw us over!” I shouted, feeling confident because I got my point across.

  Chelsea's anger turned to pity, and I realized my excuses sounded like a teenage girl holding a grudge. “Liv, I wouldn't worry about Lynn's opinion. It's the rest of the world we need to be concerned with.” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but I was overwhelmed.

  “I didn't tell you the worst part. Mrs. Wolf's sister called in a panic. She was scared...,” Chelsea spoke through my contemplation. She paused as if to give me time to prepare myself. “…scared of you.”

  I stared at Chelsea, struggling to comprehend what she was saying.

  “The Meta issued a state of emergency warning. It claimed you are extremely dangerous. It doesn’t matter that people know you, and know you’re not dangerous; they will ignore logic and become irrational. Soon, the world will be terrified of the only female Elste. I'd prefer you don't meet an end like Martin Luther King Jr's.”

  * * * *

  Chapter Fourteen: Freaks

  A meaty hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, spun me around, and shoved me against the wall of grey lockers. The force was so strong that my head banged against the metal and black tunnel vision threatened my view.

  I flung my arms around, haphazardly, but my attacker pressed his forearm into my rib cage. “Where is he?” hissed a deep male voice. He kept his face so close to mine that I could smell his last cigarette on his breath.

  Panic bubbled up inside of me. Did someone break the deal with Mr. Dimon? Was this how the Meta was going to capture me, out in the open and dragged away by my hair?

  I gulped for air and tried to clear my head, but he held me in place. “Who?” I asked in a strained voice. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my brow.

  He shouted, “Max!” and emphasized it by thrusting his fist into my shoulder. Max? A Meta agent wouldn't be looking for Max. They already have him! The stars started clearing from my vision. I recognized the stubbly chin, thick build, and stubborn demeanor of my accuser. He was one of Max's buddies from the smokers' corner. Despite the sharp pain in my head, I felt relieved. The Meta wasn't coming to lock me up and throw away the key...yet.

  I was fairly certain my brawny attacker's name was Dave. I was also pretty confident he never said a word to me when Max and I were dating, and therefore, I didn't think he would listen to a word I had to say now. I looked around for Chelsea. We had only left Mr. Rowling's class seconds earlier. She picked a great time to go invisible.

  Dave was growing impatient. “My father told me he's never coming back because of you!” He shouted in my face, spraying me with spit.

  “Dave,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm as I attempted to pry his fingers from my shirt, “you know better than anyone else, I don't have any special tricks to force Max to do what I want...” My voice trailed off because I realized I was lying.

  I glanced over Dave's shoulder and noticed his gang hovering, anxiously. Something was strange. They didn't seem pumped up to witness a fight. Was it obvious I was going to lose, and they felt bad for me? Or maybe they felt awkward watching Dave break down about his missing friend?

  Perhaps it was my nerves imagining it, but some of them looked scared. It wasn't because they were worried that Dave would turn around and beat them up next. No, they were scared of me.

  Chelsea finally reappeared with Lynn. I could smell vanilla and apple as they pixelated into view behind Dave's gang. “Get your hands off her,” Chelsea threatened. Dave looked over his shoulder and gave a sarcastic laugh.

  “Oh yeah? Which one of you dumb blondes is going to make me?” he asked. Chelsea and Lynn stared him down with their piercing blue eyes.

  “Olivia, you can handle him,” Lynn ordered.

  Dave gave a sinister laugh and jeered, “Yeah, do it.” He was putting on a convincing tough guy act, but close up I could see his mouth quiver and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew what I was capable of. He wanted me to use my Gift and prove to his friends I was a monster.

  I bit my lip, hesitating. “His dad knows who I am,” I told them, hoping they understood my cryptic comment about being the female Elste. I looked at the crowd gathering. Whether or not people knew I was Gifted, the hallway was full of students watching intently. If I used my Gift, I would only be helping the Meta spread awful rumors about the terrifying female Elste.

  Luckily, I didn't have to. There was a flash of green light. Before I could do anything else, Graham had Dave's cheek pressed against the wall and his arms behind his back.

  “Why don't you mess with someone your own size?” Graham asked. His face was lit with excitement. It was the same battle-ready buzz he had shown in Prometheus's Fort Bliss and at our meeting in Ms. Magos's secret room. For once, I was happy to see it.

  “Okay, you win, Thor! Get off me!” Dave yelled. He struggled against Graham's inhuman strength. Graham laughed, released him, and stepped away gracefully like he had been restraining a kitten instead of a six-foot man.

  Before turning and leaving, Dave spit on the ground in front of me and growled, “Gifted freaks.”

  * * * *

  Chapter Fifteen: Lunch

  From time to time, I will admit when I'm wrong. As I rubbed my shoulder where Dave jabbed his fist, I knew this was one of those times. I couldn't deny Chelsea stood up for me, and Graham scared Dave away. It was solid proof they were on my side. If they weren't, they would have left me to fend for myself.

  After listening to their insistence on retaliation and offensive strategies, I admitted their allegiance, but that didn't have to mean I had to like their style. Patience and thoughtful analysis of what happened was the way I liked to function, not action in the red heat of the moment.

  We walked to the cafeteria in an absurd formation. I was the victim in pr
otective services surrounded by her three bodyguards. Chelsea, Lynn, and Graham checked every passing person and corner before we proceeded. It was truly a ridiculous precaution since I could stop any attacker dead in their tracks before they laid a finger on me. Still, I was happy to be surrounded by friends.

  Dave's outrage freaked me out. Just yesterday after Driver's Ed, I was feeling pretty good about the world knowing I was Gifted. I guess Robyn and Lisa's reaction wasn't how everyone was going to react.

  We spotted Cliff sitting at a table in the corner by himself and walked over to join him. He didn't even look up and greet us. However, the rest of us sat down at the table and seemed to relax.

  The calm was short-lived. I had barely unwrapped my peanut butter and jelly sandwich when the energy surrounding me started to tingle again. Justin and Luca burst through the cafeteria doors.

  Both guys hustled to our table, looking worried and concerned. It was a day for proving loyalties. For the first time since they met, they were on the same side. I should have been happy about that, but I was going to feel the brunt of their panic and over-cautious plans.

  They threw their book bags on the floor, grabbed chairs from the table beside us, and squeezed between Lynn and Chelsea to sit next to me.

  “I'm sorry I wasn't there in time, Liv,” Justin apologized. His whole face was screwed up in agony, as if it was torturing him that he was late to walk me to class. “I would have been there if someone hadn't asked the teacher a million questions and held up the whole class as the bell was ringing.” His eyes turned to slits as he turned towards Luca.

  Luca looked livid. “Maybe she wouldn't need a personal body guard, if you let her defend herself. She's more powerful than all of us combined!” he shouted.

  Chelsea cut them off, “Before you say anything more or hover around unnecessarily, take a good look at Olivia. She's perfectly healthy and in one piece.”