Alex gathered her things for the day, listening to Rae’s snores. She noticed that the eyes of the drawing—which now appeared more curious than sad—followed Rae to the bed, watching over her in a fiercely protective gaze.
She tried not to disturb Rae as she exited. Even so early, dozens of newburies already congested the vestibule. They gathered around the fountain and conversed by the blue flames, but most of them rested at the tables, poking the air with their pointer fingers, engrossed in the morning news. One would never guess they lived without the news tickers only months ago.
Alex fought the urge to glance upward, struggling to ignore the campus news, especially Sigorny L.’s large name over the popular editorial. She scoured the area, wondering if the others would consider her egotistical for obsessing over articles about herself. The harder she fought it, the more it antagonized her. She grabbed a seat and gave in, pulling the feed from the scroll with a rubber band snap. She promised herself she would only read a few lines.
By now you’ve seen them yourselves, but yes, the twenty-five supposedly brainwashed newburies have returned to your halls, your workshops, and (run for) your lives. No wonder The Dual Tower sent a representative from the Interactions Department to spy on teach us. Dr. Massin has a long history of exploring sociology, as she’s been employed in the department for over two hundred years. Only someone who specializes in social aspects would strive to remain so current in pop culture. Did anyone else notice her in the hallway the other day when the lyrics of the top forty songs of the week were spilling into the air from her thoughts? Who knew someone so old would like so many boy bands?
In life, I always considered sociology to be one of those Easy-A subjects. In death, if you break a sociology rule, you might find yourself in one of the underground facilities we are too proper to call ‘prisons.’ In fact, one of Dr. Massin’s great, great uncles ran off and pretended to be one of the bodied at the beginning of the twentieth century. Scandalous. And illegal. He was later found and sent away. He nearly soiled the family name. Perhaps the Interactions Department itself is cursed.
Underground facilities, like the prison she’d learned about last year from Raive’s letters. Paradise. The term tugged at her whenever she thought of it. The ink on the paper of the letters flooded her mind. Paradise. Paradise. Paradise.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
She snapped back to reality.
Chase kissed her forehead, slipping into the seat beside her. “Sorry it took me so long. My brothers wanted me to meet with them to talk.”
“About what?”
“What else?” He huffed. “Jonas.”
His name created a veil of angst between them. Alex swatted at it, but it stuck to her hand like a spider web.
“Anything new?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Chase muttered, rubbing his forehead. “So, my dreams were rather loud last night.”
“Are you talking about Rae?”
“No. I mean all the singing. I assume it was coming from your mind, not mine.”
Definitely not.
“Do you recognize the voice?”
Alex assumed the voice belonged to Danya, his mother. Chase was the one who had grown up with a mom to soothe him, but Alex knew better than to mention Danya’s name. Chase would never admit to it for the sake of tact; after all, he had seventeen years longer with his mother than Alex had with hers, but he missed Danya, and Alex knew it. She felt it.
“Never heard that voice before last night,” Chase said. “Couldn’t be Rae, could it?”
“Rae doesn’t talk.”
“That you know of.” He intertwined his fingers with hers.
Alex shook her head. “That voice didn’t belong to a child.”
Besides, Rae wasn’t calm enough to sing in such a soft voice. Alex was beginning to wonder if Rae woke so frequently because of night terrors. She’d seen it happen several times. Rae would leap up, flailing and scrounging around for her charcoal. She’d panic until snatching a sheet of paper and delving into her own little world.
Rae only left the room to venture through the woods inside the city. She didn’t allow many other spirits to see her. Skipping through the trees, she could have been any other happy toddler, and afterward, Rae sat with paper on her lap and created something beautiful. Her way of saying thanks.
“Did you see the article about the gifted?”
“No.” Alex straightened. “What article?”
“Don’t worry; it had nothing to do with Rae. Relax.”
Alex tapped at the air, searching the news feed. “Where is it?”
She felt Chase shrug next to her. “It isn’t that illuminating of an article, but a few of them have been spotted close to town. And by close, I mean miles away.”
Alex wondered why the image of a gray tree crossed her mind.
“The government won’t do anything about it. At least not until the Truce March, according to Sigorny.”
“We’re supposed to be separate, right?” Alex pushed her hands apart, dividing an invisible barrier. She noticed gray smudges all over her palms and fingers. Rae really had been holding her hands.
“I quote, ‘The gifted are considered more bodied than spirited, so they are expected to remain at a distance for the betterment of both civilizations.’ End quote.”
Imagine the tourism if the gifted had access into the city. How many more people would be lining the streets to catch a peek of her?
Chase glanced upward at the railings above the vestibule. “I could totally blow off this day and go back to bed.”
“Whose bed?”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as you come with me.”
Her mind remembered what it felt like for her stomach to flutter. As much as she didn’t want to, she stood up. “Tempting, but you need to stay out of trouble. I’m only looking out for your best interest.”
“Yeah, right.” He grabbed his things and slung an arm around her shoulders. They made their way to the sociology workshop, which Alex dreaded, not because of the class but because of Jack Bond, who had taken to staring a hole into her profile. Whether he was trying to get her attention or annoy her, he was succeeding in both.
Dr. Massin’s physique appeared solid in form today. It was easier to pay attention to her this way, but the boys in the room enjoyed Massin’s projection because she strutted around in tight-fitting dress pants and a nearly see-through blouse.
Alex copied notes for the objectives: Explain why people/spirits behave the way they do. Explain impulses in terms of interaction and group participation.
For half the session, Massin discussed why people feel the need to belong. Alex watched the Eskers kids sink lower and lower in their seats. Between her notes, Alex doodled in the margins of her notebook. She liked drawing cinquefoils, the kind etched all along the siding of the Dual Tower building. She began to zone out, and when she realized she was sketching pictures of hourglasses, not cinquefoils, she threw down her pencil. It ricocheted off the desk and clunked onto the notebook of the boy beside her.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Carr Cadman used one hand to pass back the pencil while the other rose into the air. “Do you think our confinement encourages spirits to act a certain way?”
Dr. Massin swayed her head, and her hair made a swishing sound. Every male in the class gravitated toward her as she took a seat on her desk and propped herself back on her hands. “Living in the city isn’t mandatory.”
“For newburies though.”
“Still not mandatory, but very much necessary and encouraged. We used to own a great deal more territory before the Westward Expansion.”
Words, thoughts, and question marks hovered above Madison’s head. “Sounds like American Indians.”
“Actually, it’s a relevant comparison. We lived in peace with the bodied before new settlers discovered our land. American Indians were open to the idea of us and therefore wil
ling to share their world with us and vice versa.”
Alex flipped over the artwork on her paper. “I thought the bodied couldn’t see us unless we wanted them to.”
Dr. Massin paused to stare at Alex; then, she shook her head and sat up straighter. “And unless they’re open-minded enough to see us in return. For the living to see the dead, they would have to be looking for us in the exact place, at the exact moment that we were there. And we would need to be looking for them, too. You guys have experienced enough meditation this session to know that sometimes our minds project us somewhere without our knowing it, a translucent version of ourselves. Many Native Americans could see these apparitions. Some could only feel us or at least feel our emotions, but we lived in peace together.”
A few of the thought bubbles above Madison’s head popped. “Is that considered gifted?”
“The term isn’t quite so universal. Simply being able to see, hear, or feel a spirit is not so extraordinary. Those are mediums, and even they are rare now. The bodied aren’t programmed to accept us anymore— just to fear us or hunt us. We don’t worry about the bodied so much as we worry about the gifted, the ones who can do the things we can do with our minds even when they’re living.”
A know-it-all Bond voice squeaked from the front right corner of the classroom. “For a civilization as intelligent as ours, one would imagine a refined level of acceptance. Yet, discrimination prevails, strong as ever.”
The way Jack said the word “discrimination” was so full of disgust that it sent a ripple over the heads of the newburies. The room began to stink like a garbage can.
Dr. Massin walked in Jack’s direction. Alex had never seen anyone look at him without cringing. “There are basic causes for prejudice and discrimination. It’s unfortunate.” She tut-tutted.
Linton was positioned two rows over from Jack, and he shifted to sit on his knees, facing Jack and wrinkling his nose. “That’s an odd question coming from you, Bond.”
Jack lifted a scrawny arm and elbowed Joey, who had his head down on the table. Joey sat up but didn’t dare face the class. “I’m wondering,” Jack said. “Why all the hatred?”
“When you act in a way to warrant hatred, it’s necessary,” Linton remarked.
Alex never thought she’d be thankful for a Darwin. Her gratitude emanated from her, stretching forward over the heads of the newburies between her and Linton. He must have felt it because he lifted his hand to touch his head before looking back to find Alex. He nodded at her. “Jack, you can’t sit here and judge us. Your family wrote out the laws for the separation you’re sneering about right now.”
Dr. Massin let out a tsk. “Lawmakers work to appease the masses. It isn’t their personal beliefs that become law. It’s the agreement made by the community.”
Pax gave one huge nod of approval. Linton stopped grinding his teeth long enough to mutter, “Birds of a feather … ”
Jack used the situation to his advantage. “Dr. Massin,” he said in a velvet tone. “Do you think that because hatred and discrimination are tolerated in regards to others, spirits are prone to hating differences in each other?”
“I do—”
“If you’re comparing yourself to the gifted,” Linton interrupted. “Some would call that karma, considering your family started the Witch Wars.”
Dr. Massin ignored him, keeping her focus on the table of Eskers kids. “Hatred. Discrimination. They’re behaviors. The spirited and the gifted have a long history. In the eighteenth century, spirits constructed many cities, including Eidolon, as a safeguard because of the growing population of the bodied. Even after the continent began to crowd, the gifted and the spirited had always been civil—not friendly by any means, but civil enough that they helped us to build our defenses around the structures of our cities. Somewhere along the way, the gifted were given the impression that the ‘separate but equal’ mentality no longer existed, that the cities would be for them as well.”
Madison’s remaining thought bubbles melded together. “You mean that the gifted, even if they were alive, would live here, too?”
Dr. Massin nodded. “The gifted claimed they were cheated of their rights, even though they were given their own land. They resented the fact that most of them had to hide their identities or live in small communities outside of society, both our society and that of the bodied.”
Misfits. Like Jack. Like Reuben. And yet, the Seyferrs hunted the gifted and the Bonds went along with it. Was it a double standard, or was it a hierarchy? Alex considered the fact that Duvall might be right. It’s the similarities that drive a wedge between two types of people. But even if a wedge is removed, the splinters remain.
“What the gifted failed to understand was that they have their own set of norms and rules. They have their own group, their own society. They are safer among themselves.”
“Can’t we all just get along?” someone whined.
Jack snickered, and Alex watched as Carr lifted his chin to get a better look at him. “Yeah right,” Carr said. “The living don’t get along any better. I died fighting because I thought I could change that.”
“We are safer,” Dr. Massin said, “when we know where we fit. The gifted were, of course, denied access to Eidolon. Broderick and Brigitta Cinatri originally constructed our city, and as our city thrived, the gifted became more and more resentful. The Witch Wars during the 1800s began after territory and rights negotiations. Too many losses occurred to be civil after that war. No interaction exists between us now.”
Alex tapped her pencil on her notebook. She could still see the hourglass even though her paper was flipped over.
“Then why is a gifted sighting newsworthy?” Madison asked.
Dr. Massin found Alex. The weight of her gaze acted as a wind, pushing Alex backward in her seat.
“There are laws that we’ve agreed upon, and the Centennial celebrates the length of time we’ve lived without problems because of those laws. We can’t enter their territories, and they can’t enter ours, even if they’re curious.”
“How do we know one of the gifted when we see one?” Madison asked.
“You’ll know. Like they know when they see you. And they can hurt you as much as you could hurt them. Their strengths are much like ours, a manipulation of the mind. If you see something warped, something that isn’t right or out of place, trust your instincts. The gifted are not friendly by nature; they’ve seen too much adversity. Hence the warnings in the media.”
“You said they weren’t a threat.”
“I don’t believe they are. But my advice? If you see one,” she paused to cup one hand to the side of her mouth, “run away.”
***
Alex weaved through the crowded hallway feeling like a mouse in a maze, but no matter how quickly she moved, she could still feel Jack’s glare on her back.
“It really is true what they say …” His threatening tone collided into her, causing her to stumble.
Since when did he become so bold? What happened to the quivering nerd with the idealistic thoughts? She’d liked that kid.
He cracked. That was the reason she felt afraid of him. He ridiculed his bullies last year, but now he played their game, antagonizing her.
She wished Chase was here, but he was in therapy. She reminded herself that Jack wouldn’t hurt her in a clustered hallway with so many witnesses, and even if he wanted to, he could only do extraordinary things when he was around his twin sister. Twin minds make their abilities more powerful, but only when they share the same space and energy.
She stopped, took a deep breath, and faced her tormentor. He wasn’t alone. Joey lingered behind, but Reuben stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
Jack squished up his face, causing his freckles to blend together. “History sure does repeat itself.”
Alex crossed her arms. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
He stood regarding her, with his mousy hair puffed like a lion
’s mane. He’d transformed from the scrawny outcast she’d befriended last year. She used to like the way Jack sauntered through the criticism with kindness still on his face, how high he held his cards even with such a poorly dealt hand. Now, his presence carried the bitter saltiness of hostility.
“Did you join another cult?” she asked.
“A cult? Please. You sound ignorant. I knew what I was getting into last year.”
“Isn’t that pleading your guilt? How did the Revealers see past that?”
“I can honestly say I never wanted to hurt anyone. But there was something I know now that I didn’t know then. It might have changed things.”
Alex sighed. “And what is that, Jack?”
“You’re a damn Havilah.”
People were rubbernecking as they walked by, and some stopped to observe the crash scene. Alex noticed kids watching Jack with interest, newburies who’d once ridiculed him, who’d elbowed him or slapped his books from his hands. They said and did nothing against him now.
Alex knew he wanted more than that though. When they were friends, he said he wanted acceptance, no, more than that; he wanted prestige. He had a long way to go. Fear was only a slighter higher step than ridicule.
“Why does my family mean anything to you?”
Jack’s horse-like mouth hung open as he shook his head. “You’re a hunter, no better than Reuben, and you’re treated like some sort of second coming while his family is criticized and mine is blasphemed. See what’s right in front of you.”
“I know the history of the Havilahs. They never hunted.”
Jack raised a fist. “No. What your family did was worse.”
Reuben scratched at his cheek and nodded to confirm the validity of the statement. The newburies surrounding them began to whisper.
Alex’s mind didn’t forget certain things about her former body and confrontation. Clammy hands. Racing heart. Rush of adrenaline. “How?”
Jack snickered. “You don’t know. What else is new? That doe-eyed Bambi look is starting to get old. That’s how the Havilahs always avoid punishment. They play the innocent card and let others play the scapegoat.”
Of Delicate Pieces Page 11