Never Be Younger: A YA Anthology

by Rachel Bateman

  The side of my mouth aches as I force it wide into a smile he’ll take as approval. “But how? You know my power doesn’t work on others like us.”

  Oberon throws an arm around my shoulder, looks around to make sure we’re not overheard, and then speaks in a low tone. “I think we’re not the only thing that’s mutated.”

  I look up at him sharply. “What do you mean?” We’d found very few people with abilities like ours and had worked hard to keep them under wraps so as to make sure that we didn’t end up on some mad scientists table getting dissected.

  “I found a wild pansy on the outskirts of town. The ones with the purple center that creates love. I tried it on one of Titania’s hangers-on. You know—the one that can float things with her mind. And it worked! I put it on her eyelids while she slept and she fell in love with the first thing she saw when she woke up.”

  For a moment, my heart skips a beat. I could use this cupid’s arrow to open Titania’s eyes to me. I shake my head, which thankfully Oberon doesn’t notice. No, I would only take her willingly.

  “I was thinking, even though you can’t mess with our minds in our natural states, maybe you can when something else has already tampered with it.”

  He continues on waffling, oblivious to my racing thoughts. Thank goodness reading minds is my power, and not his. “So her eyes pop open and she’s spouting devotions of love to me.” He claps his hands together.

  Inwardly, I grimace at the thought of the loophole he’d found. In his desperation, he’d bugged me to use my mind tricks on Titania to make her forget this Indian guy and fall back in love with him, but I couldn’t, which he already knew. Nor could I weave my magic on her new boyfriend—he’s like us too. Except all he can do is turn blue. It’s enough that his brain is wired differently to norms, so I can’t get inside his head.

  “Oberon.” A shrill voice cut into our conversation. “Oberon, my love. Where have you been?”

  A mini-me of Titania skips toward us. Oberon stiffens beside me. Fay’s eyes sparkle as she gets closer. She flips her dyed black locks over her shoulder. An inch-wide strip of brown marks her hair part.

  Oberon grabs my shoulders. “Can you do anything about this? I know how to turn it on, but not how to make it stop.”

  Fay giggles, and then laces her arm through Oberon’s. “Oh I’m so glad I’ve found you, schnookims. We need to organize our coordinating outfits for Prom.”

  Help me. Oberon’s mouth forms the words as I delve into her mind. Normally when I try to enter the brain of another like me, all I can do is hear thoughts. If I try any persuasion, it just does nothing. But this time it’s different. I can sense the unnatural state, and I know I can reverse it. For a moment I contemplate lying and saying I can’t do anything. But for one thing, I suck at lying. And for another—Oberon can turn me into a drooling puddle of mush on the floor with a glance. No limitation on his powers. That’s why he’s the boss and I’m the sidekick. Thankfully, it’s not a power he uses very often, even when an exchange student has “stolen” his girlfriend. A trail of dribbling comatose bodies is bound to attract the attention of people we would prefer not to know about the stuff we can do. Being a lab rat is not on my to-do list.

  I do my best not to look like a B-grade sci-fi flick character as I focus my brain waves, but holding fingers to my temple really does help. Images of Oberon that would make a Disney Prince look like a schmuck rotate through her mind, an illusion that’s rewritten her memories and controls her feelings. I imagine a giant eraser and swipe away the fantasy.

  “Ewww. Get off me.” Fay pushes Oberon away. “Just because Titania dumped your ass doesn’t mean that I would ever be with you. I’m not into left-overs.”

  As usual, everything’s coming up Oberon, and he knows it. His lips pull back, making him look like a joker, and it’s like he squeezes my beating heart in his fist. He swipes a finger across his forehead to push aside brown strands that hangs over his eyes.

  “She does actually think it would be cool to date you,” I say off-handedly as the retreating mini-skirted Fay disappears from view, hoping a new pursuit might distract him from his plan.

  “Of course she does.” Oberon’s voice sours at first then turns smug. “Who wouldn’t?”

  I stare at the poster and scrunch my nose up at the realization of where this is going. “So you’re going to use this on Titania and have her see, um, Ass-face when she wakes up.” I might be low down the food chain at Athena High, even with my Oberon-endorsement, but I have no idea who this guy is.

  “There’s just one slight problem.” His voice morphs into a drawl, a sure sign that he’s about to ask (order) me to do something for him. He slings his arm around my shoulder again, and instead of going toward our History class, he steers me on the direction of the exit. “Someone has mowed the field and there’s no flowers left. I need you to go scout around and find more. Go to the next town if you have to, or even the next state. But get it by tonight.”

  I stare behind me as Oberon pushes the doors open. History is when I get to sit behind Titania.

  “Don’t worry. You can just meddle with Mrs. Brannan’s mind on Monday and make her forget you played hooky.”

  Before I can even contemplate protesting, not that I actually would, a beefy guy and a girl with glossy brown hair walk toward us in heated discussion.

  “Fade,” says Oberon, his voice full of anticipation. A cool sensation falls over us, the signal that we’re disappearing from sight.

  “Dimitri!” The shrill girl’s voice cuts through me. “Would you stop, please? This isn’t a good idea.”

  The sandy haired guy whips around and glares. “We are not together anymore. It’s been a whole year since we broke up. You need to stay out of my business.”

  “Find out what’s happening.” Oberon’s invisible lips breathe the words out hot into my ear.

  I purse my lips in an unseen protest of my friend’s insistence in meddling in norms’ affairs. He always gets such a kick out of the control and power we can exert over others. But, as usual, I obey.

  Images of Dimitri and the girl flash through my mind’s eye as I probe their memories. Tentative kisses of early love. A name—Elena. Heartbreak as Dimitri leaves her for a girl called Hermia. More heartbreak as Hermia leaves him for his controlling ways. Fiery anger as Dimitri thinks of Hermia with a wiry framed guy called Xander. Then visions of what he wants to happen. Fists smashing into his rival’s nose and Hermia swooning back into Dimitri’s arms.

  I give Oberon the run down under my breath, so as not to attract the attention of the quarreling exes.

  “Poor Elena. Spurned by her love.” For once Oberon sounds like a decent human being. That can be the scariest state of all for him because it’s usually followed by a butt-load of cray cray.

  The school doors slam open then shut, and the heated words become muffled behind concrete and wood.

  “Illuminate.” The cool sensation reverses at his words.

  “Well he was a bit of a—”

  Oberon raises a hand and cuts me off. “Get extra pansies.”

  * * *

  If I didn’t need food to refuel, I would run forever. This is when I’m best hidden from others and free. It was how I first found out I was different, other than the fact I look like I belong on top of a church, etched in stone. I was five and I could sense the group of bullies coming before I even saw them. I ran to hide, except I found myself across town in the blink of an eye. Maybe it was an extreme flight or fight mechanism setting in, but I was grateful no matter what caused it. Then I realized I could reach out to people’s minds. That’s how I found Oberon when I was eight. And the search for others like us began.

  My legs scissor back and forth so quickly that I propel forward faster than a norm’s eye can comprehend. The shield my mind generates hides the telltale signs that would make people think something funky is going on, confining the noise and gusts my super speed creates. I’ve already zipped through the entire city
and found no trace of the pansies. I pause and gulp down an electrolyte infused drink before eyeing off the road to the next town. The flowers have to be there. I start pumping my legs again, but within seconds, the fields beside me become flashes of white.

  I skid to a halt and jog back to the broad, rolling field. Clusters of the white flower pepper the lush green, their waving heads beckoning to me.

  * * *

  Knocking on Oberon’s bedroom door, I suck in a breath, my heart’s furious pump slowing now that my run has reached its end. He flings open the door. The scent of Oberon’s mint body wash and spicy deodorant punches its way up my nasal passages.

  Oberon claps his hand on my shoulder. “Puckerman.”

  I stifle a grimace as little stars of pain speed down my arm.

  “Have you got them?” The glint in his eyes unnerves me, and, for a moment, I consider telling him no, but as much as I dislike my appearance, at least I’m still whole.

  Fumbling in my pocket, I pull out a bunch of the offending flower—now Oberon’s tool for meddling.

  He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, narrowing his eyes. “They’re all scrunched up.” Taking one from my outstretched palm, he rolls it with his thumb and index finger. “But they’ll still do their job. Be more careful next time.”

  His words of “next time” tumble around in my mind, shooting a flutter of unease to my stomach as I imagine the games Oberon could play with his new toy. Shaking the thought away, I clear my throat. “What do you plan to do with the extra flowers?”

  A conspiratorial grin breaks out across Oberon’s features. I pinch my teeth together; on any other person, that smile would be ugly, not Oberon with his handsome face and fake charm. He opens his mouth to speak, but a bang below, followed by the thud of feet spit firing up the stairs mask his words. In a swift move, I tuck my arm behind my back, concealing the hand still clutching the magical bouquet.

  My heart ceases to beat altogether. Goosebumps prickle across my skin, and I swear my tongue doubles in size.

  The black braid curving the top of Titania’s head glows like the onyx embellishments on a finely crafted tiara. Her pale skin shimmers against the light streaming in from the hallway window, giving off an angelic aura. Peach blusher glitters on her cheeks, and I stifle a groan of longing. Her blue eyes narrow as they settle on Oberon. “You’re hitting on my friends now?”

  Unable to resist, I pinch my eyes together and invade her mind. The slap of disappointment stings my senses. Despite Titania’s tumultuous thoughts, I recognize the fiery flicker of the torch she still holds for Oberon.

  Oberon raises his palms, plastering on a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Fay threw herself at me.”

  Hitching her hand onto her hip, Titania glares at Oberon with enough ice to freeze hell. “Don’t lie to me. I just came from her house. She told me everything. You’re being pathetic.”

  I swallow past the thickness in my throat and clench my hands, expecting the tentacles of Oberon’s fury to latch onto my innards and clench at any moment. Instead, Oberon smirks and folds his arms across his broad chest. Leaning against the edge of the door, he tucks a foot behind his ankle. “Honey, if I wanted Fay, don’t you think she’d be mine by now?”

  Titania’s nostrils flare as she works her jaw from side to side. Clenching and unclenching her hands, her perfect little nose twitches up. Her ballet flats leave the floor as her anger takes over from her self-control and her power of flight announces itself. “You think an awful lot of yourself. It’s unattractive. Maybe if you weren’t so cocky and self-assured we might’ve stood a chance.”

  For a fleeting moment, Oberon’s smile falters, but as if it were nothing more than a play of the light, his lips spread wide, revealing a toothy grin. “Sugar, that Indian boy—what’s his name?” Oberon taps his chin with his index finger, his eyes roll heavenward as if he’s thinking. “That’s right—Sick…”

  I just about jump from my skin when Titania returns to the ground, feet stomping hard on the glossy wood floor. “Sikh. His name is Sikh.”

  Oberon waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever, he’s not half the man I am. If you want to waste your time running around with him, have at it. I won’t stop you. Sorry to say, I’m just not that into you.”

  Waves of white fury ripple and crack in the air, and I shrink back, hoping I can somehow avoid them.

  Titania’s feet leave the ground again. Tipping her chin up, she growls out, “stay away from my friends.” She pivots in the air and her graceful, slender body glides back down the stairs. I resist the urge to follow her. Every fiber of my being wants to tell her that he’s not worth it. My feet stay rooted on the spot. I can never let him know.

  “You need to put the word out.” Oberon calls after her. “Tell your friends to at least make an effort to resist me.”

  I catch the acerbic words “so mature” just before the front door slams shut, rattling the foundations of the house all the way up to the walls around us.

  Oberon’s smile fades, replaced by a thundery darkness. “B—”

  “Forget about her for now,” I say, and in an attempt to divert his attention, I add, “tell me your plan.”

  My ploy works, and light skirts across Oberon’s features, coupled with a mischievousness that floats from his face and settles like a rock in my stomach. “You remember that ugly ass-face lead singer from The Craftsman? On prom night I’m going to brush the petals across Titania’s eyes and when she opens them, he’s going to be the first thing she sees.”

  Never one to question Oberon’s plans, despite their shortcomings, I bob my head in an enthusiastic nod.

  An uncomfortable clamminess in my hand draws my attention back to the extra flowers Oberon had me acquire. “So what are these for?”

  I stifle a groan as Oberon pumps his eyebrows and his mischievous look morphs into all-out deviousness.

  * * *

  The trap has been set. The ease at which the fingers of my mind poked thoughts and ideas inside the norms heads should’ve left me with an air of satisfaction. Instead, a bitter burn sloshes its way up my throat as I survey the shadows from beneath the bleachers of the High School’s football field.

  “Get them to the football grounds, he said,” I mutter under my breath as I furl and unfurl my fingers. “Put the flower on his eyelids, he said.”

  Already irritated that I’d missed history to run from pillar to post through town in search of a feminine flower, Oberon’s impatience had turned a bad day worse when he ordered me to find the quarreling ex-lovers from earlier and “settle the score” as he’d put it. So I spent the evening rounding up a pair of hormonal teenagers—Dimitri and Elena, then making them come to the impromptu decision to visit the football field under the shroud of darkness.

  The heat of the pansies in my pocket sear against the top of my thigh. Pulling them out, my mind wanders to images of the girl who’s captivated my heart. One flower is missing from the bunch I picked, and a shiver runs from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes. Titania flashes in my mind, her raven hair, and her pallid skin—so perfect. I run my thumb across my jaw, but coarse bristles scratch at it, a far stretch from the silken softness I’d waited with baited breath to feel. How I would love to cup her face in my hands.

  A muted voice pulls me from my daydream, and a heavy sigh rushes from my lungs. In the distance, Dimitri steps onto the football field, Elena following close behind, words of complaint tumbling from her lips.

  “Let’s get this over with. Now—what was I supposed to do again? Right, restore Dimitri’s love for Elena,” I roll my eyes, “and then they can live happily ever after.” Simple enough, even an idiot could do it.

  Taking a furtive glance around, I lift my foot to take a step forward. A rustle of leaves from my left halts me. A young male bursts from the hedgerow. Throwing his arms wide, he breaks out into the latest love song from The Craftsman. I mutter unsavory words under my breath as my consciousness lends a name to the face—Xa
nder, the boy Dimitri wants to pulverize. The wind carries the stench of alcohol from his direction. Just dandy. Now I have to deal with a drunken teenager as well as work the petals magic on a bitter ex.

  My eyes slide to the right, back to Dimitri and Elena, who are standing stock still, watching Xander as he stumbles and sways on shaky legs. Under the luminescent glow of the floodlights, I can make out Dimitri’s mouth moving, but I’m too far away to hear the words. Elena’s shrill alerts me of the danger just before Dimitri barrels toward Xander at lightning speed.

  Dimitri’s complexion is an unappealing shade of beetroot gone bad and his harsh tone matches the bitterness with which he shouts. “You girlfriend stealing, good for nothing jerk.” Dimitri’s hand bunches and he swings his arm at Xander’s nose.

  Under the misdirection of alcohol, Xander stumbles to the left and out of the line of fire. But I know his luck won’t last. I have no choice but to step from my hiding place and at least try to diffuse the situation.

  My footsteps pound across hard mud. By the time I reach the ruckus, Dimitri and Xander are nose to nose. Under other circumstances, I may have laughed at Xander’s eyes, which keep crossing and uncrossing, but the expletives stabbing at the air from Dimitri’s sharp tongue give cause to act promptly.

  Holding up my hands, I do my best to calm the situation, all the while firing my own expletives at Oberon for putting me in a position where I have to bring attention to myself. I clear my throat and summon some inner strength, hoping it carries through to my voice. “Guys. What’s the problem here?” Three sets of eyes settle on me, and repulsion charges in the air. I shove my insecurities aside and force my mind to unfurl, reaching it out, pushing, pushing until I’m wading through Dimitri’s thoughts. It’s so much harder to do when I can’t massage my temples.