Half-Breed

by Zachary Smith

  Chapter 20

  To wake naturally, rather than waking to the sound of my alarm, feels nothing short of unnatural. But it must be morning, as Matthew, brimming with energy – more so than usual –comes bounding into my dimly lit room fully dressed. He’s obviously been awake since the early hours as he’s also had time to fix his hair and carries with him a packed rucksack. “C’mon Mitchell!” He cheers, shaking me from side to side within my bed. “Shouldn’t you be up by now?”

  My eyes dart to the empty bedside table, then to the broken remains of my alarm clock spread across the floor. “Dammit, Matthew!” I yell. “I never set another alarm after you broke my clock!”

  With no time to spare, I push passed him and dash to the shower room as he follows closely behind. Stopping short to remain in the doorway, he grips the top of the frame with his hands and leans into a stretch. “So… Patrick will be here in like twenty minutes.” He smirks.

  “And?” I shoot back, prodding and poking at my face and hair.

  “Well,” he coaxes. “You could have a lift?”

  The look on his face tells me he knows the answers before I’ve even said it, and normally he’d be right, it’s the one I always choose, a no. But I’m stuck, there’s no way I’ll make it in time for the bus. Having no other option, I grumble to myself, steaming up the mirror with my warmed breath as I mutter. “Yeah. Sure.” Then I dismissively wave my hand at him to be left in peace.

  I’ve barely time to finish breakfast when a car horn sounds from the front of the house. “He’s here!” Matthew hollers, as I shovel in the last spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

  Ready and waiting, Matthew stands by the passenger side with his arm resting on the open rear door. “Harper!” yells Patrick, leaning over into the passenger’s seat. “What’s the hold-up?”

  And that’s when he clocks me. “Oh,” he sighs. “Mitchell.”

  If I could say the same, only in reverse, I would have.

  Like its owner, Patrick’s car is in pristine condition and boasts a shiny metallic surface that rebounds a blinding light directly into my eyes. It’s enough to send my mind into a panic as I constantly check I have no sharp objects on me that’ll scratch it. “Take your time,” jests Matthew, tapping two fingers to his wrist.

  Flashing him a forced yet convincing smirk, I slide onto the light brown leather seat. “Sorry,” I mutter as Matthew slams the door behind me.

  “Dude!” Patrick whines. “Watch the door!”

  Matthew then timidly pulls his door with as little strength as possible, listening out for the latch to click before moving at a normal speed again. “Sorry mate, guess I don’t know my own strength recently.”

  The engine roars and Patrick takes one final look in the rear view mirror, not to check for any cars as we’re still on the driveway, but to check himself out one last time. Once satisfied with his reflection, we’re off at a great speed, one that pushes me to my seat as we pull onto the busy main road. “This traffic!” he fumes. “I don’t know how you guys put up with it?”

  He wouldn’t, he comes from the posher side of town. An only child to rich parents who are able to afford the big house and extra luxuries in life. Which would explain how Patrick, who only turned seventeen about six months ago, is already driving and has his very own brand new car.

  “Seriously mate?” snaps Matthew. “You say this every time you pick me up, and I’ve told you countless time I don’t mind getting the bus.”

  “No mate,” he replies. “You can’t be a bus loser.” I can’t help but think that’s a sly dig at me. “Honestly, I really don’t mind picking you up.” And that confirms it. “Anyway, I had a text from Melissa last night.”

  Uninterested, Matthew effortlessly turns to Patrick. “So?” he questions.

  Too engrossed in the conversation about girls, Patrick unknowingly cuts up a driver next to us while narrowly missing a cyclist in the process. I would say something. I should say something to make him aware, but I don’t want to give him any more reason to hate me, so I keep quiet and watch as the unimpressed cyclist, who mouths obscenities, fades into the distance.

  “Mate!” Patrick yells, letting go of the steering wheel entirely to throw his hands up in the air out of frustration. “She’s so into you!”

  Matthew returns to his mobile and swipes through his many different social media accounts. “So why is she texting you?” he asks.

  Speechless, a quality I didn’t think Patrick possessed, made only more apparent by the way he squirms in his seat displaying a face of guilt. A fret Matthew misses, being the least bit bothered or invested in what Patrick has to say, and I don’t blame him. “Testing the waters, isn’t she. Seeing if you’re interested or not.” He finally replies.

  Shaking his head without breaking his gaze, Matthew answers. “Not interested. I have way too much on to even consider adding someone else to my busy schedule.”

  Suddenly, we’re all thrown forward as Patrick brakes hard inches away from the car in front, but neither he nor Matthew mention the close call – as if this is a regular occurrence for them. Whereas my knuckles turn white, the harder I grip the seatbelt to pull it in tighter to my body.

  “Mitchy!” Patrick calls out. “Ain’t your brother just way too picky?”

  Catching me off guard, his piercingly green eyes fixate on me in his reflection, causing me to stutter. “Um. Yeah. I guess so.” I reply. Of course, I have no idea if this is true or not, Matthew and I have never spoken about girls before, why would we? He’s got plenty of friends to do that with, and I have… Riley.

  “See, even Mitchy thinks you are.” He gloats.

  Judging by the complete lack of concern Matthew shows, it would seem they’ve had this debate before, maybe about the same girl or others – Matthew is not short of attention from the ladies. But it’s as if he doesn’t care, like the words have floated over his head. He doesn’t even raise an eyebrow nor does he throw Patrick a glare for the picky comment. “Bachelor’s life for me.” He shrugs.

  As if he’d just heard the confessions of a serial killer, Patrick recoils, letting go of the steering wheel again to shake his hands in dismay. “But’s it’s Mellissa… Mellissa!”

  “Then. You go out with her.” Matthew effortlessly, yet sternly replies.

  Defeated, Patrick hangs his head and sighs. “Your loss mate. Seriously.”

  From here on in the car becomes a ghost town for words, but I can’t figure out if this is normal for them, or due to my presence. I wish I could say I feel uneasy by the silence, like a spare part, the typical third wheel, but Patrick can’t even let me have that. Instead, he turns the nob on his high tech car stereo as far as it’ll go, so even if someone did speak, no one would have heard over the deafening sounds pumping through his speakers.

  “Watch where you’re going you idiots!” shouts Patrick at the couple he narrowly misses as he swerves around the corner and into the view of the clock tower – a sight I’ve never been happier to see.

  I thought his driving was bad before, but since he turned up the music – some house tunes I’ve never heard before – he’s become much more erratic. But only I notice this, as Matthew seems completely unfazed by his driving skill, even when his body is being thrown side to side in unison with Patrick’s – it’s like they’re unknowingly prepared for it. One positive thing I have gained from this whole ordeal – a silver ling as such – is that even if I’m going to be hours or even days late for college, I’ll definitely be getting the bus.

  “Mitchell,” says Matthew as I unsteadily step out the car. “We’re early, so we’re heading to the field. You coming?”

  Fire, lights and faces filled with terror. That’s all I see at the mentions of the rugby field. Even the smell of burning flesh envelops my nostrils. Is this real? Am I actually smelling this, or is it all in my mind. Regardless, I cannot risk it, I will not risk it. “I need to get to the I.T room; need to print out some coursework.” I lie. “But, thanks for the li
ft.” I glance over to Patrick who nods in acknowledgement – probably happy I won’t be joining them.

  Luckily for me, Matthew doesn’t try and persuade me to come along, so we arrange to meet in the afternoon before he chases Patrick down the path. All the while I try and regain my bearings.

  I float through my morning classes in a daze, taking the back seat in each of the classrooms in hope I can stay under the radar and avoid the lecturer's view. If someone were to ask me what I’d learnt for the day, I don’t think I could recite one sentence or even one word that was spoken. Instead, my mind has been clouded by the possibility of seeing Miah later this afternoon; playing out many different scenarios and preparing witty comebacks, so my personality is not lost in the shadow of Matthew – like it normally is.

  There are times during my prep where I feel I could be cheating her by preparing too much, and she won’t get to see the real me. The real me… My heart thumps hard within my chest as I picture the evil being stood in the centre of the rugby pitch, watching with glee as the main building, a sanctuary to many fearful students collapses on top of them. Is that the real me? If so, how could I possibly be that honest with her?

  The bell rings signally it’s lunch time and I grab my folders, not even packing them back into my bag as I bolt for the classroom door. I decide to take the long route to the canteen, one that takes me outside for some fresh air and a chance to cool off. And on my way, I notice the unmissable curls of Riley’s hair bobbing amongst the crowd of bodies. “Riley Haymes!” a loud affirmative voice yells from a distance. “You’ve forgotten your coursework, again!”

  Now it’s not only his hair that’s noticeable, but the redness of his face shining brightly as a tall, blonde haired lecturer chases him through the corridor with a clear folder filled with papers in hand. Obviously embarrassed, he keeps his head low in the hope no one has seen and hurries along, darting between stationary students with me in pursuit. He sure can move fast when he wants to, and it takes me a while before I catch up to him. “Who’s she?” I curiously ask with a wink.

  “Can you not?” he fumes. Clearly, he’s having a rough day – like every day.

  The canteen is full by the time we make it. I would have arrived a lot sooner, had it not been for my detour, and nabbed us a table, but today we’ve had to perch ourselves on a sloping grassy patch by the car park. Normally this would have annoyed us both, causing us to moan for most of our lunch break about how the college should expand the seating area due to the high volume of students, but not today as the sun is shining brightly. Even though it’s only spring, the warmth against my skin is welcomed and allows for me to wear only one layer.

  “We’ve got training tonight.” Riley blurts out.

  I shudder at the thought, knowing he wants to push me to my limits in hope I’ll be able to control the vast amount of power that swirls within. If only I could share my dreams, let him see the truth behind my power, the pure destruction it can cause, then he’d understand – I hope. “I can’t tonight, I’m spending time with Matthew,” I reply – for once, a genuine excuse.

  His face lights up. “You’re speaking again! Since when?”

  “Last night.”

  “That’s great,” he beams. “It’s about time he got over it.”

  Pulling a notebook from his bag, he opens it to the back to display our rota and crosses out today’s date. “I’ll move your training back a day or so, so you don’t miss out.”

  I’ll be glad once I’ve rid myself of these powers, so I can burn that book – with matches – and never have to train again.

  “You’re early!” says Matthew, manoeuvring himself between two cars in the overcrowded car park.

  He’s changed his clothes since this morning and is now wearing some fabric joggers and a hoody, which means at some point throughout the day he’s had rugby training.

  “Class was let out early,” I reply, jumping from the wall I’d been sat upon.

  “All good for Ampsbury?” He eagerly asks.

  Having had a text message from Darcy confirming, I answer. “Yep.”

  Walking with a spring in his step, Matthew playfully pokes and prods my side. “What’s up?” he asks with a friendly tap that nearly floors me.

  “You know your strength is a lot greater now, don’t you?” I shoot back.

  He nods. “Figured that out after I kept breaking stuff.”

  Yet he still feels the need to playfully hit me.

  “So please,” I beg, in a defeated tone. “No more manly slapping, friendly punching or rugby macho stuff with me, my body just can’t take it.”

  He recoils, holding his hands up. “Whoa. Yes, sir.” He salutes.

  Already I begin to regret planning this meet-n-greet, knowing the trip can be long at times and this will only be made worse with an over excitable Matthew. If it weren’t for the prospect of seeing Miah again, I’d probably turn back right now and go home.

  “Note to self,” he adds. “My fire-starting brother, who could burn me to a crisp, cannot take a punch.”

  If only he knew what I’m truly capable of, would he still be making jokes? Surely not, but this is Matthew after all, he likes to find the joke in everything. Head down and eyes focused forward, I hurry my pace to add distance between us; wanting to get to Ampsbury as soon as possible.

  The train journey gets us to the Ampsbury a little later than normal, which for English transport, is about right. Matthew walks on ahead, unable to contain his excitement, which is pointless as he has no idea where we are going and I have to continuously call him back.

  I bang hard on the door to Darcy’s office and wait. “So, she might look a bit… eccentric, but she’s a nice lady.” I say, prepping him for what’s to come.

  And within moments, the door begins to rattle. “Just a moment,” she calls out, unlatching the many locks. “Eureka!” she cheers, swinging the door open. “Hello! My darlings. Come in. Come in.”

  Once again her look is off-putting and I scurry past like a naughty schoolkid, walking into the principal’s office. Today her hair is tied up at the back with a quiff at the front, exposing more of the blonde. This would be fine if it wasn’t for her thickly drawn on eyebrows and bright pink lipstick, which is almost clown-looking on her pale face.

  Of course, Matthew has no problem with her or introducing himself. “I’m Matthew,” he beams, shaking her hand vigorously.

  Not contend with a handshake, she pulls him in for a quick hug. “Oh! No need for formalities,” she sniggers through her large row of top teeth. “I’m Darcy Blooms, just Darcy to you, though!”

  She then ushers Matthew inside, slamming him into the back of me as we enter the office. It’s a lot less cluttered than it was the last time, although the desk is still a mess, filled with paper files and many opened books. And laid out in front of it is four chairs, meaning a fourth will be joining us. Miah perhaps? Even the thought sends a burst of excitement through my body, one that I have to make sure isn’t my powers activating.

  Sitting opposite Matthew and me, Darcy’s eyes flit between us both. “You’d never guess you were brothers.”

  “We get that a lot,” Matthew replies.

  Darcy then goes through her introduction, the same one I heard last time I was here about her job, the places she’s travelled and the interesting people she’s met along the way. I try and listen, but I’ve heard it all before, so I turn my attention to the door handle, waiting for it to turn and for Miah to wander in. Until Darcy pulls me back in by the mention of my name. “You said you met a Nexus-Being already?” she asks.

  “Yes, Talia,” I confirm.

  She purses her pink lips and flips through one of her many books. “And she was the one that told you about your powers?”

  “Yes, she said she could feel us. And that she’d never come across siblings displaying powers from either side.”

  She scrunches up her face, thinking aloud. “It is an odd one.”

  “Is it bad?”
Matthew frets.

  She laughs, exposing more of her large teeth with each chuckle, before assuring Matthew it’s fine and that we’ll get a better idea when Miah can read him. “Someone request the skills of an expert?” boasts Miah, strutting into the office.

  Body rigid, all I want to do is follow her with my eyes, but I disguise this eagerness by keeping my focus on a silver paperweight placed on Darcy’s desk. I recite its properties over in my mind as I try to fight a smile that wants to hijack my face. Large, round. Her footsteps sound closer as she passes me by. Flattened top, sparkles in the light. Already I can make out her blurred figure in the corner of my eye. Silver! Large! Round!

  “Miah! Let me introduce you to Matthew, Mitchell’s brother.” Says Darcy. “Twin!... His twin brother.” She corrects herself.

  I look over and leave my sight on her for a mere moment before pretending to scan the room. “Hey,” she nods.

  “Hi,” Matthew replies with his eyes fixated on her. “So… you’re like us?”

  I forget that in all the time we haven’t spoken, he’s never met another Half-Breed, and think back to the mix of relief and fear I had when I found out about Aimee.

  Miah wastes no time with chit-chat. Pushing her chair back, she asks Matthew to remain still, to which he nods, as her eyes go white. And although I’ve seen it before, I still find it eerie whenever Miah reads someone. It’s like her body becomes an empty shell, a statue on display, devoid of all life.

  Moments pass before her body moves and the normal hazel of her eyes returns. “Well?” asks Darcy.

  Still disorientated, Miah takes a step back and leans into the desk for stability. I’ve never seen her like this before, it’s like she’s been mentally drained; her whole essence syphoned, leaving a mere spark in its wake. Suddenly her eyes shoot back to Matthew in horror, and she begins mumbling incoherently.

  “What is it?” a concern Darcy asks.

  Looking to me worryingly, Matthew asks if this is normal, but I can’t answer as I have no idea what is normal anymore.

  “What are you?” Miah pants, reciting my dream perfectly, only it’s aimed at Matthew instead of me.

  Is this it? Is this what Talia meant about my dreams playing out in a different way. For there is no rugby field in sight, nor a glowing body before me. No, instead we’re in Darcy’s office, but she speaks the words I’ve foreseen, in perfect rhythm, just like she did in my dream.

  She continues. “He could end us all with as little as a sneeze.” She grabs her head with both hands, succumbed to a pained. “I’ve never seen power like it. He needs to be stopped.”

  Knocking his chair back as he leaps to his feet, a panicked Matthew backs himself toward the doorway. “I-I-I can only fire lights. Tell them Mitchell!”

  All along I assumed it was me destined to wipe out Shellbourne, and maybe even the world. But now I know, this whole time… it’s always been him!