Star Child: Places of Power

by Leonard Petracci

  “You did what?” I stuttered, my eyes widening.

  “It was the only way to make sure he would let me start full time,” she said. “Besides, it’s for the best and should never come to light. Is that all?”

  “One more question. Remember that night I came over for dinner, and he had to leave in a rush? Is he still on that work assignment?”

  “He won’t shut up about it; he’s obsessed," she answered. "Mother’s even concerned for his health. Either way, I don’t have to care about that anymore now that I'm not going back. Is that it?”

  “Sure, that’s it. Just know that you’ve changed, Arial. This isn’t you.”

  “Stop being a Bottom, then we can talk,” she retorted. “And if you’re an Upper, we can be friends. Then you can talk to me about change.”

  Shaking my head, I left the table and sat with the other Bottoms in a cluster between Lucio, Darian, and Slugger, but still several feet away from the others.

  “Nothin’ to be sad about, lad,” comforted Slugger, putting a hand around my shoulder. “She’s cold-hearted to be treating you like that. Not worth your time. Seems like everyone in this place is like this – practically obsessed.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. It’s not her fault, though. She’s different,” I said.

  “That’s some bullshit; she snubbed you!” Slugger continued, and Lucio raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be giving any excuses for that. We have a word for that in the home tongue, wouldn’t welcome one like that in all of Ireland.”

  “All right, I’m just going to broach this subject now,” said Darian, cutting through the conversation and pointing to Slugger. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?” asked Slugger.

  “Oh, come on,” pestered Darian, rolling his eyes. “Do we have to spell it out?”

  “What he’s trying to say,” interjected Lucio, “is how come you aren’t affected by the singing like everyone else is?”

  “The what?” asked Slugger, raising an eyebrow. "Are you drunk? Because if you are, you better be sharing."

  “The singing,” pressed Darian. “I have a feeling you damn well know about it, so let’s hear it. Either that or move to the other side of the table.”

  “Hold it, hold it, what’s with the aggression? You’re as bad as the Flier friend, lads.”

  “Hate to say it, Slugger, but I’m with Darian,” said Lucio. “I’ve known you for some time now, but it’s suspicious. Why aren’t you affected by the singing every night, by Siri’s words?”

  “Those are words?” exclaimed Slugger, hitting himself in the forehead. “God, it’s like awful screeching, keeps me up sometimes, but everyone else seems to sleep right through it. Worst music I have ever heard in my life, if you can even call it music. Makes sense that it comes from Siri. I thought she just screeched at you all during the day when she wasn’t happy. Anyways, when I get tired, it’s hard to understand the American accents, especially if they’re in a song. Guess I just never knew there was a message.”

  Chapter 52

  That afternoon was spent with Instructor Cane again, along with several of his assistants who aided in demonstrating techniques. During the morning session, we had learned the theory of moves I had seen Bottoms performing the week before – the steps required to perform a trip or a throw, or the proper variations of stances. But studying a combination of moves was far different from actually performing them, and everyone who was new to Cane’s class found themselves stumbling every few steps, twisting and turning in ways more robotic than fluid, and catching the occasional accidental impact.

  “God, Lucio, one more time and I’ll strangle you,” vented Darian, his voice nasally and his eyes watering as he clutched a hand to his nose. “You are supposed turn left, not right, and I swear your elbow might have broken cartilage this time.”

  “Sorry!” exclaimed Lucio, winking at me as Darian wiped his eyes. “I just can’t seem to remember which way. I promise I’ll get it right next time.”

  “You better,” came the response as Darian returned to a stance and grabbed Lucio, acting out the motions as he spoke them. “Now it’s my turn. Okay, so left hand on the elbow, right hand under the armpit and up the back, twist and crouch!”

  He ducked, spinning as his right arm lifted the much smaller Lucio high into the air, his feet following as they leapt off the ground. Darian caught him just before he landed on the practice mat, then lowered Lucio to the ground, still letting him fall the remaining six inches with a thud.

  “Not bad,” I said from where Slugger was critiquing my stance, showing me the differences between staggered, square, and upright. “You're picking up on it quick.”

  “Copying is my specialty,” he answered and threw Lucio again, harder this time, a flash of pain crossing Lucio’s face as one of his ankles landed off the mat and his breath whooshed out of his lungs. “And don’t even complain, Lucio. That was payback. You should have paid attention this morning on how to fall.”

  “It would help,” I interjected, glaring at the two of them as Slugger trotted away for a quick water break, “if neither of you injure yourselves before we go over the plan tonight. I’ll need you both in top shape – if things go south, we’ll need it.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Lucio, tapping his forehead. “Top secret plan, I get it. Hate to break it to you, SC, but if you need me for anything on the more physical side of things, you’ll be out of luck. My strengths are up here.”

  “I just don’t need you in a wheelchair, understood? You have to be mobile.”

  “Truly happy that our interests align on that front. Hear that, Darian? SC says you need to be more dainty. You should have dropped the macho man persona after you lost your match, eh?”

  “On the contrary,” I countered. “We’ll be needing that even more. Tonight, at dinner, we’ll talk. Get a table far away from the others. And keep your voices down.”

  “Done deal,” said Darian as Slugger returned. “Until then, we’ll wait.”

  “Wait for what?” asked Slugger as he walked me through the steps again, pushing and pulling me through the motions.

  “For our chance to not be Bottoms anymore,” concluded Lucio, which I suppose held some truth.

  When dinner arrived, Lucio and Darian found a table on the far right, waiting until Slugger sat down elsewhere and removing all the chairs until only three were remaining. Lucio played with his food as he waited, while Darian’s plate was untouched, a fork standing straight up in the inferior food provided to Bottoms.

  “Since you’ve promised a five-star dinner,” he commented as I arrived, “I elected to wait to eat.”

  “That I have, but not just yet.” I said, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, the food on my own plate jiggling as I set down my tray. “Tomorrow, actually, if we pull this off correctly. And right after dinner, so you have twenty-five hours. Now, are we ready?”

  They both nodded, and both leaned inwards as I started to explain – Lucio’s face growing more excited with each passing moment and Darian’s darkening.

  “It’s all just a big trick!” exclaimed Lucio. “Some well-played mischief.”

  “That’s the plan,” I said. “And if we do it right, no one will ever know.”

  “But if this does come crashing down, and the illusion is caught, what then?” asked Darian.

  “Shouldn’t matter to you, should it? By then, you’ll be long gone.”

  “True,” Darian answered as Lucio’s expression fell. “I suppose I will.”

  “There’s one condition I have,” demanded Lucio and held up a hand, while both Darian and I waited.

  “Yes?” Darian asked after a few seconds, and Lucio continued.

  “If we pull this off, I own the film rights!”

  Chapter 53

  Chores arrived after dinner, in a far longer list than before, and interlaced with far nastier tasks. There were the bathrooms, which we had known were coming. But there were also items like taking out the dinner trash
, which leaked through the bag in spurts with every other step, scrubbing down the cooking equipment until the coating of grease atop it now lived under our fingernails, and performing laundry for the entire rest of the facility.

  Then there was also the opossum that had died over the weekend in the crawlspace, and whose removal had been appointed to Darian, though Lucio and I came to watch.

  “Oh, that’s foul!” exclaimed Lucio as Darian dropped to all fours, shining a flashlight underneath the building and poking a dark object several feet away with a stick. “SC, watching this is the exact type of break we needed. You’re going to have to touch it eventually, Darian, and I bet that thing is like a bug piñata.”

  “Screw that,” said Darian and threw down the stick, backing out from the hole with a green face, holding the end of the stick that had touched the carcass far away. “SC, what do you say we move this plan forwards?”

  “Not sure about that,” I answered. “I’d rather be more prepared, have another day to make sure we’ve thought it through.”

  “Why not? Shouldn’t matter if it is today or tomorrow, and it’s pretty simple.”

  “C’mon, Darian,” interjected Lucio. “Don’t end our entertainment. SC, make him give it a few more pokes first!”

  I gagged as a particularly foul wisp of wind escaped the crawl space, accompanied by several dozen flies that swarmed away like scrambled jets, and held a hand over my nose.

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s move. Front of the school by the main street. From there, we’ll make moves. But at the first sign of trouble, we bail, understood?”

  “Understood,” answered Darian. “Let’s go.”

  The sun had started to set in the distance, casting long shadows over the academy, and allowing only the tips of brightness to stretch over the low wall. As we walked, we carried tools for the chores – rakes, shovels, and wads of garbage bags – to appear like we were busy, keeping our faces down and our shoulders slumped. We moved counterclockwise from the back of the school to the front, hugging the building and ducking under the windows.

  But once the gate was in sight, we stopped, seeing that someone had already beat us to the entrance.

  He stood just outside the force field, with two squad cars filled with officers behind him, his finger jabbed towards the front steps of the school where another small party stood consisting of Peregrine, Siri, the two guards, and Arial.

  "My daughter is coming home!” shouted Arial’s father, his voice slightly muffled by the shield but still managing to maintain a hard edge. “Or the police will be forced to intervene!”

  Taking Darian’s and Lucio’s arms, I dragged them back behind the corner of the school staircase before we could be seen, holding a finger to my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” said Siri, a hand on Arial’s shoulder as she spoke. “But that would be Arial’s decision, would it not? And she has elected to stay with me.”

  “Considering she’s a minor, the decision does not lie with her,” retorted The Hunter. “I don’t have time for games, Siri. The police have overlooked your... operation, here, but if you force my hand, we will act.”

  “We, Art? You’re no member of the force, so don’t start putting on airs. Besides, this is not a police issue as much as it is a child protection issue.”

  “Absolutely ridiculous,” he sputtered. “An investigation would find nothing.”

  “Oh? But it’s by her own word, Arial’s own admission. A sad story, really. She’s happy here, Art. Do you really want to disturb that? She’ll be home for the holidays, and I assure you she’ll be having the best of education and a competent family to look after her.”

  “You bitch!” shouted The Hunter, starting forward with several police officers, but behind Siri, there was a flurry of movement as she raised her right hand. The bodies of Uppers streamed out from where they had been hidden inside the door, clustering in front of her to form a small wall, and standing shoulder to shoulder with faces of stone.

  “There’s no reason to be violent, Art,” continued Siri. “We’ll take great care of your daughter. And when she returns home, she’ll be reformed into the perfect citizen.”

  “Arial!” shouted The Hunter as Siri turned. “Arial, come over here. We’re going home. Stop listening to her.”

  Arial froze halfway through a turn, blinking, a confused expression flowing over her face.

  “Arial!” commanded her father. “Now.”

  “Don’t you dare, darling,” sang Siri, so softly I could hardly hear it, as the muscles in Arial’s jaw tightened. From where we stood, I could see her legs shaking, and her breath coming in quick rising and falling motions. "Today, you belong here, with us."

  “Arial!” shouted her father one last time. “I won’t repeat myself again! To me!”

  Arial looked between her father and Siri, her eyes wide and afraid, her lips trembling, feeling the pressure on both sides mounting. Her father’s command versus Siri’s power. And caught like a marble between two hard walls, she escaped by flying away, leaping upwards with her hair streaming behind her, streaking towards the sky in a route that took her far away from both her father and Siri.

  But Arial had never performed chores in the yard. When students like her from the outside arrived and departed, the force field bubble had been temporarily disabled. Now, flying at full speed at an angle to just clear the gate and the brick wall, she knew nothing of the invisible barrier between herself and the outside world.

  Until she collided with it fifty feet above the ground.

  And even from where we stood, I heard the crack as her head slammed to one side, and the bones in her neck snapped.

  Chapter 54

  Sparks flew from the dome as Arial collided, her body held stuck against the bubble for an instant in a scrunched position until her torso caught up, before collapsing as she began to drift downwards, then fell at full speed.

  Her hair clouded the blood on her face as she tumbled through the air, her shirt fluttering as wind ripped across it, nothing separating her from the concrete drive below. Her father watched open mouthed before throwing his shoulder against the bubble, staring up as she fell, his fingernails desperately trying to scratch through the force field.

  My breath caught in my chest as I watched, my heart stopping, the spectacle washing over me like an Arctic ocean wave. I started to move, but Darian gripped my shoulder, holding me back, and instead I raised my hand, generating a force point just above Arial.

  Her head snapped backwards as she slowed, her body curving into a C shape with the low points her hair and her ankles, drifting downwards like a leaf in Autumn, the frozen crowd watching as she slid away from the concrete and to a patch of green just inside the edge of the force field. Gently, she floated the remaining few feet, the blades of grass reaching up to accept her as she settled on them. Her father’s eyes widened as he looked to her, then the schoolyard, staring directly to where I was hidden, though I was cloaked by twilight, then flicked back to his daughter.

  “Arial!” he shouted as she lay there and my throat tightened. “Arial!”

  He turned to Siri, pounding his fist against the bubble.

  “You bitch. Let me in! That’s my daughter!”

  “Do no such thing; let her crash upon the rock.” Siri commanded to the guards, while the Uppers stood still. “Blake, fetch the school nurse.”

  The Hunter’s howls increased in volume, his hands pawing through his typically perfect hair, ripping a clump away as he looked on Arial’s body as he saw her chest still, with no breaths to make it rise or fall. Her neck cocked at an angle that should have been impossible, her eyes closed. And he just inches away through the barrier, though it may as well have been the other side of the country.

  “SC, there’s nothing you can do,” hissed Darian in my ear, his fingers tightening as I tried to move forward again. “Move her and the damage gets worse. If it can get worse, and you’ll just reveal what you can do!”

  “She’s dying!�
� I hissed back, breaking free and turning back to Arial, preparing to sprint towards her. But there, just behind The Hunter, the car door opened and a familiar figure leapt outwards, dashing towards the body and pushing him out of the way.

  And I froze as I recognized Arial’s mother.

  Kneeling down, she extended both hands as close as possible to her daughter, her expression locked in concentration. Before her, the wall shimmered, ripples jumping away in every direction, like a glass of water disturbed by a speaker. And a high-pitched noise shrieked as the force field quivered, the sound like a violin bow being drawn across an instrument devoid of any tuning by a skilled hand.

  Grey streaks spider-webbed through her hair, displacing the natural color in a rush that left no strands untouched. Wrinkles cut into her forehead and the corners of her eyes, the skin on her arms sagging, one of her hands retreating to clutch her heart. And silver smoke wisped from her mouth and nose, trickling out and through the barrier, leaving an impression in the wall for a split second.

  The image of an old man’s face with sunken eyes, that disappeared as soon as it had appeared, and the smoke flowed around Arial, concentrating in a ring at her neck like a collar, straightening it back into position. It made the flecks of blood that covered her face pop off like scabs, the cuts yielding to fresh skin.

  Until Arial’s eyelids shot open and she drew a breath so deep her back arched, her fingers clutching the grass underneath her until the knuckles turned white, the blood vessels in her neck standing out against the skin. And her mother collapsed, both her hands now on her heart, her hair not only grey but crinkled, and her entire body shaking.

  Chapter 55

  The school nurse arrived with a stretcher a minute later, Arial still on her back and dazed, her movements slow and pained. Her father watched as his daughter was strapped down and hoisted upward, Arial raising a hand in a feeble wave as he clutched his wife, who had risen to her feet with his aid. But the grey in her hair and the wrinkles cut into her face remained, her eyes shut tight, and her stance wavering.