Prophecy Awakened

by Tamar Sloan

  Now, rather than green landscape, I’m greeted by a granite curtain of rain. I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me. My shoulders sink. I’m unlikely to find the trail with the grey shroud obscuring my vision. Alarm begins to morph into fear as I realize that night is impending and I’m wet, cold, and isolated, my mother won’t be home ‘til late, and there’s no guarantee she will notice my absence.

  I curl up at the base of a large aspen tree. Wandering aimlessly is likely to get me even more disorientated, but sitting here with no concrete plan feels fruitless. I can almost feel the lengthening shadows reach their gnarled fingers across the sodden earth, seeking each other, wanting to blend and make night. Desolation wraps cold arms around my shivering shoulders.

  Just as my teeth start clattering, a large shape materializes from the curtain of rain. I scramble backward like a crab, painfully scraping my shoulder on grey bark. I shoot to my feet when I see it’s a black wolf. At least I think it’s a wolf. It’s bigger than any wolf I’ve ever pictured. Its head could easily reach my shoulders, its mammoth shoulders intimidating. Dark fur surrounds its muzzled face. Every molecule of air vaporizes from my lungs. My heart has shot up to my throat, hammering violently.

  I have two options—fight or flight. Flight—this giant creature would own me in a millisecond. I could hum, but I can’t hear my own teeth chattering over the pounding rain, let alone hope that it would help me right now. That leaves fight. I squat slowly, my hand reaching out blindly for something, anything. My fingers wrap around a short, fat branch. I stand up, avoiding any sharp movements. I glance down at my weapon of choice—the bark is peeling from my partially decomposed piece of wood.

  Great.

  The wolf cocks his head to the side, and sits back on his haunches. Piercing blue eyes regard me from his broad head. If it were human, he’d be saying ‘Are you kidding me?’ His behavior doesn’t fit the definition of threatening or aggressive. My heart rate slows from that of an out of control train to just an express during peak hour. He barks once then turns and walks a few feet away, before glancing over his shoulder at me.

  I think it wants me to follow it! My confusion feels like it’s been buffeted by the gusts of wind swirling around us. My limited options are being pounded and thrashed until all that’s left is indecision. The wolf takes a few more steps before stopping, waiting expectantly.

  I can’t be considering walking toward gigantor, can I? My shoulders hit an all-time low—I don’t really have a choice. I suppose if I was going to be dinner, I would have been carved and served as human sushi by now. I drop the useless piece of wood and take a few hesitant steps forward. The wolf’s tongue lolls out, his gums pulling back.

  Did he just smile at me? I take a few more steps, and the wolf turns and continues walking in the direction he arrived.

  As we walk through the rain, I watch the giant beast warily. Since when did wolves grow to the size of a pony? On steroids. His towering frame is black from his intimidating, imperious head, across daunting, proud shoulders, down to his humungous, furry feet. Despite his size, he walks with the grace of a wild animal, muscles bunching and releasing beneath midnight fur. He’s not bothered by the sleeting ice, unlike my pathetically shuddering human form. He periodically checks that I’m following, before continuing to lead me to who knows where. Straight to my own death, for all I know.

  After twenty minutes of miserable hiking, the wolf stops. I look up from my hunched shoulders, unsure of what’s coming next. The wolf merely looks at me, blue eyes blinking, and sits. I glance around again, and notice the compacted ground of the trail beneath my sodden boots. He brought me back to the trail! I let out a relieved breath I hadn’t noticed I’d been holding. I turn east, and start trudging with a renewed burst of energy.

  I turn toward the wolf, wondering how to express my gratitude, only to find he’s disappeared behind the granite curtain, vanishing into the wild, grey twilight. I send him a silent “thank you” before wading back to my car.

  10

  Noah

  I stand behind a tree as I watch Eden get out of her car. Her shoulders are slumped and, even from a distance, I can see the shivers racking her body. I notice, with a frown, that her house is dark. Despite the late hour, her mother isn’t home. Eden lets herself in and I release a sigh.

  I head back to my car parked at the Inn parking lot. Mitch meets me there, leaning against its metal body.

  “She got in all right?” He wipes at the water streaming down his face.

  “Yeah. She looked cold and tired, but home safe.”

  Mitch’s eyes squint as he regards me. “How did you know?”

  I shift uncomfortably, shrugging. Sitting with Mitch in his room, I didn’t understand the uneasiness that morphed in my stomach. It’s not what you usually feel when enduring Mitch’s brand of heavy metal. Techno metal— whatever that is—certainly gets you on edge. But not scared. When it steadily grew, I rushed around the house, checking on Mom and even Stash. I phoned Dad; his confused tone reassured me that he was indeed safely driving home. I don’t understand the sense of urgency that rushed me here. It only grew into alarm when I saw Eden wasn’t home. As it grew later and the rain started, I felt her fear. Yes, felt the clenching pit in my stomach, the helpless despair.

  “I felt a disturbance in the Force.” I try to make the joke a statement, but my tone hikes up at the end, making it sound more like a question.

  Mitch purses his lips, the pouty-purse that shows he’s not impressed. And waiting.

  “I don’t know, okay? I just felt it.”

  Mitch impatiently pushes back the wet hair that has flopped down into his eyes, his cheeks deflating on a baffled puff. He opens the door of the truck. “Come on. We have to come up with a good reason why we rushed off like lunatics or Mom is going to give us the Phelan inquisition.”

  I shudder. No one wants to endure my mother’s single minded cross-examination. She doesn’t take prisoners.

  “See you at lunch.” Mitch thumps me in the arm before turning to go down the hallway. Having your brother with you during Gothic Lit’s a blessing. It means you’re less likely to die of boredom.

  He pauses, turning back. “Hey, is that my T-shirt?” Mitch pinches the sleeve of my light blue shirt.

  “Yep.” My grin lacks any skerrick of apology. “I need to lay off mom’s brownies. Mine don’t fit anymore.” Mitch arches a brow at my flat stomach. “Besides, I think this one looks better on me.” Mitch grunts, an uncanny imitation of our father, and punches my shoulder again, this time with a bit more oomph. I laugh as we head in opposite directions. “See you at lunch, little bro!”

  Mitch stops again, in the middle of the almost-empty corridor. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

  I’d guess almost two years. “You’d like the title reinstated?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Ah, no.”

  “We may have a problem then, little bro.”

  I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind punching me a third time, but then we’d both be late for class.

  Biology next. My heart jumps a smidgen, moving up in my chest. I haven’t seen Eden since our jaunt two days ago. Will things be different? A little more thawed? Eden’s micro smile flashes in my mind, and my chest warms. It felt like progress.

  Eden is already sitting at her back bench, head buried deep in her textbook. I bet she already has that thing memorized. Dougherty doesn’t stir from his Zen-like contemplation as I walk past.

  “Hey, Eden.” I sit on the stool beside her.

  “Hi.” Eden doesn’t glance up from her busy note taking. Although there’s no outward sign, it feels like she hunkers down. Back to square one. Maybe even in the negatives, seeing as she didn’t use my name. I really want to hear it colored by her soft, musical voice.

  I glance over at the textbook that holds her rapt attention. Chapter Six Ecosystems. “Working on the assignment?”

  “Yep. It’s almost done.” Mostly monosyllabic answ
ers. Way down in the negatives.

  “Did you want me to do the presentation?”

  Eden’s gaze flies to mine. Now I have her attention. “Would you?” I had a feeling this reclusive girl wouldn’t be keen on public speaking.

  “It only seems fair, seeing as you’ve done so much of the research.” I shrug. “And had to answer endless Jeremiah questions.”

  Eden turns a little more toward me, her lips softening. “Yes, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you haven’t contributed.” Clever girl knows I’m giving her a get-out-of-jail-free pass.

  “Gotta do my share.” I smile. For long seconds we sit in suspended animation. Her—delicate lips parted, eyes green and unwavering. Me—mute and barely breathing.

  A slap on the back crashes me back to reality. Eden’s eyes widen before darting back to her book.

  “Hey, dude, we’ve moved!” Dale, my phantom lab partner, stands beside me. He’s wearing his standard shirt with too long sleeves, beanie, jeans and fingerless gloves. All in faded black, no matter the season. He holds out a hand to shake mine. I return his hearty pumping reluctantly. I’d much rather be swimming in the forest-green pools beside me.

  Dale scrapes a stool across and sits down beside me. I shuffle closer to Eden to make room. Her scent—those elusive wildflowers, wraps around me. Maybe I don’t resent him being here so much after all. Eden shuffles her stool closer to the wall.

  Dale turns to Eden beside me, and his eyes widen. I bristle, although I expect she has this effect on all guys. I wonder if I looked like that when we met. No way. Definitely not.

  I was far more dumbfounded. Dazed. Disorientated.

  “Hey, I’m Dale. I’m the dude who usually sits next to Noah.” Eden glances up from her book and mumbles a hello. I half expect her to rub behind her ear, what I thought was Eden’s gesture of shyness. But she doesn’t.

  Undaunted, Dale holds out his hand for a second handshake. I don’t move, knowing Eden will have to reach across. She’s going to have to get into my personal space or leave Dale hanging. She pauses, looking at those pilled-black gloves, and good manners win out. She leans over and her shoulder brushes my chest. I hear her sharp intake of breath and I wonder if she feels it too. The slow burn that starts from that single point of contact. The tiny sparks of heat shooting outwards.

  Eden quickly retracts her hand. Dale draws his hand back and I notice, inwardly frowning, that he slowly brushes his half-naked fingers across her palm. My frown never sees the light of day though, as Eden’s doing that for me. She surreptitiously wipes her hand on her leg. Hah. The jealous streak that I have no right to feel fizzes out.

  Mr. Dougherty approaches us at the bench. “Ah, Mr. Gordon. You’re present.” He pointedly glances at Dale’s beanie. Dale sighs, and unwillingly removes it. Freed from the faded black wool, his dark hair springs outward in rebellious spikes.

  “Yeah, my mother was sick.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. She has recovered, I hope?” Old Dougherty is pulling concerned teacher like a pro.

  “Yeah, much better.”

  “And your sister, she’s better now too?” One white, wiry eyebrow rises into Dougherty’s wrinkled forehead.

  “Yep, made a full recovery.”

  “And your grandmother?”

  “Getting there. You know how oldies take longer to bounce back from these things.”

  “Indeed.” Dougherty folds his arms across his chest. I think his mask is beginning to slip.

  Dale continues, oblivious to the frostiness in Dougherty’s tone. “Such are the responsibilities of being the man of the house.” Now it’s Dale’s smile that turns a little brittle. It’s common knowledge that Dale’s father left when he was ten. His mother works at the local café by day, and Tyrell’s movie theater by night; making her the sole supporter of Dale, his two sisters, and her ailing mother.

  Dougherty takes a deep breath. I’m guessing he’s had to center again. “Well, your team members have been industriously working on the current assessment piece. It’s in your best interest to discuss with them your role and responsibilities.”

  Dale gives him a thumbs up. “Sure thing Mr. D.” Dougherty closes his eyes and takes a second, longer, deeper breath before returning to the front of the class.

  Dale promptly pulls his knitted beanie down over his ears. “So Eden, where are we at?”

  Eden looks up from her book, eyebrows raised. Although her voice is quiet, she doesn’t hesitate in answering. “Well, Noah and I had just decided that he would be the one presenting.” She said my name! Noah and I. The phrase repeats its beautiful sound in my head.

  Eden passes Dale the page of notes she’d been scrawling on. “Ah yes. Phelan would be the ideal choice for that one.” Of course I would. I actually attend the class. Dale barely glances at the page before passing it to me. “Well everything seems to be in order. Keep up the awesome work, dudes.” Dale’s fisted glove once again thumps me in between my shoulder blades.

  Eden blinks a couple of times. I doubt Dale even knows what the topic of our presentation is.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Mr. Dougherty’s age-old voice brings our attention to the front again. He begins outlining key points for the presentations in a week’s time. Eden once again begins taking notes. Dale starts flicking a lighter in his pocket. Again and again. I block out the annoying noise and the tiny hope that the flint might catch, setting those stained-black jeans smoldering.

  It’s not hard, as my attention gravitates toward the girl sitting next to me. My chest has stored the electrifying heat from our earlier contact, maintaining a slightly higher than comfortable body temperature. As I pretend to listen to whatever Dougherty is explaining, I try to take deep cooling breaths. Instead, wildflower scent fills my nostrils, and they flare reflexively. I feel Eden pause in her note-taking beside me, before dropping her head farther into her book and writing again. The remainder of the lesson passes in agonizing awareness.

  When the bell goes, Dale jumps up with split-second timing, his stool screeching his rush. “See you, dudes.” I think Dale just spent an hour being reminded of all the reasons he doesn’t attend biology.

  We wait until the other students leave, then stand and walk to the front of the class. I’m acutely aware of Eden following behind. As we leave the room, we fall into step down the hallway, heading to the cafeteria for lunch.

  “Well, it’s good to see that Dale approves of our efforts,” I say wryly.

  Eden gives me a thumbs up. “Dude, we’re doing awesome!”

  I chuckle. Eden smiles. And I realize we’re walking and talking, like any guy and girl would, on the way to lunch. It’s a heady feeling.

  “Hi, Noah.” I turn my head and straighten; I hadn’t realized I’d been leaning in. Bianca is walking toward us. She combs her hair back with her fingers. I feel Eden stiffen beside me.

  “Hey, Bianca.” I turn back to Eden, not wanting to lose the connection we’d been building. But Eden has taken a step to the side. The distance between us is small, considering the flowing mass of students around us, but it’s significant.

  “Are you heading to lunch?” Bianca is now directly in front of me. Well, obviously. I throw her a smile, but turn back to Eden, hoping Bianca will take the hint.

  “You guys go. I’ll catch up.” Eden is smiling. A full-blown, teeth-glinting smile. But it’s not the smile I’ve been waiting for. It has the warmth of a fridge and the sincerity of Dougherty’s concern for Dale.

  “Sorry, Bianca, we’re catching up with Tara and Mitch.” I smile and keep moving forward.

  Bianca flicks her hair over her shoulder; her smile matches Eden’s. “That’s cool. I’ll see you in math.”

  “Sure. See you then.” And she heads down the hall.

  Eden is quiet, the artificial smile nowhere to be seen. “You could have caught up with her. I wouldn’t have minded.”

  I frown again. “I didn’t want to.” I stop and turn toward Eden. She pauses besides me. I
wait for her to turn and face me. “This is where I want to be.”

  Eden’s eyes widen, evergreen oceans which tilt delicately up. Her mouth forms a silent “Oh.” How could she not know? I hold myself there, slowly dissolving in her bottomless eyes. I want her to see my sincerity. I want her to know. And greedily, I want her to reciprocate. The curling feeling is swiftly wrapping us in its magical cocoon, the noise of the masses falling away.

  And I know I’m telling the truth. There’s nowhere else I want to be.

  Our bubble is burst by the bright, tinkling giggle that has followed me since childhood. Tara skips up between us and loops her arms in each of ours. Oblivious to her interruption, she starts leading us toward the cafeteria doors.

  “How was bio?” she asks as her head swivels from Eden to me and back again.

  I playfully jab her in the ribs with my elbow. This is what an annoying little sister feels like. “Interesting.” I shoot a glance over Tara’s head. Eden’s soft smile is back and she shyly returns my expression. “Dale put in an appearance.”

  Tara drops her voice, doing a poor imitation of a guy. “Dude! No way!”

  Eden’s face goes serious. “Dude. Way.”

  Tara peals into laughter as we head into the lunch room. Mitch is already sitting at our table. His smile mirrors ours as we approach. Tara and I head over to the line, but Eden pulls up a seat at the table.

  Tara looks at her questioningly. “Not eating today?”

  Eden pulls out a paper bag from her backpack. She wrinkles her nose in the direction of the serving area. “Brought my own.”

  Tara nods. “Good choice. Those vegetables will probably shorten your lifespan.”

  Mitch already has his lunch in front of him, so Tara and I head to the line.

  While we wait, Tara shoves me with her shoulder. At her height, its bony point gets me in the ribs. “So…” She leaves that one little word hanging.