A Matter of Fate

by Heather Lyons

  “Did you know he surfed?” Lizzie asks me.

  Yeah, I did. He loves surfing. He’s been doing it since he was little. I just had no idea he was so good at it.

  Graham comes to shore and joins us, shoving his board into the sand. The salt water on him smells tangy and sharp when he hugs me. “If it isn’t my favorite trio of ladies. How’s everyone today?”

  Cora grins. “I see you return victorious.”

  He laughs, embarrassed. “If wiping out five times today still qualifies as victorious, I’ll take it.”

  Lizzie immediately jumps to his defense. “I thought you did a great job out there!”

  He can’t hide his pleasure, even when he evades. “Man, did the new guys put us all to shame, though.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Cora says. “We most certainly did notice that.”

  I discreetly stomp on her foot. She stomps right back on mine.

  Graham shakes the water out of his hair. “I guess they’ve been surfing a long time.”

  Cora nudges me slyly. “Are they here for the barbeque?”

  He looks out at them. “Nope, just for the surfing. I invited them to join us, but I guess they already have plans for the afternoon.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lizzie says, eyeing me meaningfully. I try to downplay this by yawning.

  It doesn’t take a mind reader, though, to realize that Graham’s wondering if Lizzie has an interest in either of the twins. He looks so dejected I want to say something to clarify things to him, but he beats me to the punch. “Yeah, it is too bad.”

  Cora and I just stand there lamely as Lizzie blushes straight to her roots. “Well, I mean . . . they’re new, and it’s . . . .”

  “I get it,” Graham says.

  Desperate to change the subject, Lizzie laces her arm through Graham’s. “Think you could show me how to work a barbeque?”

  His smile is bittersweet but acquiescent. After they’ve walked away, Cora leads me towards our blanket nearby. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on in that pretty noggin of yours?”

  I stare back out in the water. Vulnerable with Jonah so close, and yet so far away, I admit, “I miss him.”

  She digs in her straw tote for a pair of sunglasses. “He’s right there, you know.”

  Is he, though? I mean . . . is it really him? The Jonah I know?

  She sighs at my silence. “Let’s start with the easy questions. Just how long have you known him, anyway? I know from surging that it’s been a while. But just how long?”

  I tell her the truth. It takes a lot to surprise Cora, but she’s surprised now. “Point him out to me.” After I do so, she says, “You should go talk to him.”

  I slide my own sunglasses on, self-conscious about possibly being caught staring. Because I can’t help but stare. “It’s not that simple, Cora.”

  “It really is.”

  Ahem, the little voice mutters. Even Cora thinks it’s a good idea!

  Jonah’s caught another wave, one even bigger than before. “Look,” she says. “Do you love him? Because that’s sure how it felt when I surged.”

  I rub some sand in between my fingers. “Yes.”

  She’s surprised again. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to answer that question so quickly.”

  “You said you were going to ask easy questions. That’s an easy question.”

  “Then why are you so unwilling to go talk to him?”

  The night before, I’d dreamed about him. It wasn’t like the old dreams, though. This one starred a copy of Jonah who told me he had no idea who I was, that I was crazy for approaching him, and that I needed to stay away.

  It wasn’t really him, but it was terrifying enough to remind me of what I stand to lose.

  Cora motions towards the shallow water, where Jonah waits for Kellan to finish his ride. “He’s standing right there. Here’s your chance. Go.”

  Just as my hands grip the towel to push myself up, Kellan joins his brother and they leave. A dull ache in me expands with every step Jonah takes toward the stairs that lead up to the parking lot.

  Look at me, I want to yell. I’m right here! Can’t you see me? Don’t you know who I am? But he doesn’t look. He and his brother disappear into the parking lot and out of view.

  “That’s what you get for inaction,” Cora flatly declares. The little voice viciously agrees.

  A football whizzes by our heads, landing about twenty feet away. Someone calls out for one of us to throw it back. When Cora pretends she didn’t hear anything, I reluctantly go over to get it. As I reach down for the ball, I notice a key ring lying in the sand. I pick it up and turn the keys over in my hand—three keys next to a small, wooden surfboard. I’m just about to do a general surge to find a panicky person sans keys when I become aware of someone standing behind me.

  “It appears you’re quite helpful, aren’t you, C? Dismissing unwanted people, finding lost keys . . . .”

  I whirl around and nearly smack into Kellan. His hair is wet and disheveled, dark sunglasses sitting up on top of his head. He’s wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, his wetsuit peeled down low on his hips.

  Heavens.

  My mouth goes dry again. “These yours?”

  His fingers brush mine when they remove the keys, and my skin tingles deliciously. The butterflies beat against my rib cage, loud and strong.

  A smug smile slowly breaks out across his face, like he can hear just how hard my heart is pounding. Before I can pass out from shame, one of the boys on the football team appears and side checks me hard enough that I lose my balance. Kellan reaches out and saves me from falling.

  “Yo, Chlo!” the jock says, grabbing the football. “We’re in the middle of a game, babe! You’re holding things up.”

  Once I’m steady, Kellan lets go. Now my whole body is buzzing from his touch, and I nearly fall over again. Much to my pleasure, Kellan appears disoriented, too.

  “Sorry,” I murmur to the jock, and thankfully he quickly leaves. After a moment of the two of us simply staring at one another, I clear my throat. “You guys aren’t staying?”

  Kellan’s crazy half-grin reappears, twisting my stomach into nervous, excited knots. “Nope.”

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I want him to stay. I mean, I want them to stay. “Why not? Don’t you guys like barbeques?”

  The keys twirl around his index finger. “Sure, but we already have plans.”

  “Change them.” And then I slap a hand over my mouth. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I censor myself around him?

  He removes my hand slowly. Oh, my. The tingling returns full force.

  I’m completely flustered now and babbling like an idiot. “Um, I mean, you guys are new here, and it’d be a good opportunity to meet new people . . . since you’re new. So, you should . . . stay . . . if you . . . want?” I try laughing, but it only makes me sound worse and sort of like a hyena.

  His hand drops from mine. “As nice as it would be to meet new people, since we’re new and all, I’m afraid we’re going to have to pass.”

  My cheeks are on fire. “Oh. Well, sure.”

  “Really, C. Who could I possibly meet who would be more interesting than you?”

  Oh, lords, is this guy charming. I need air. Stat. Which is ridiculous since we’re outside, on the beach, for crying out loud, in sixty-degree weather. I fear I’m about to swoon when he jingles the keys in his sweatshirt pocket. “Thanks for finding these. Jonah would have my head if I came back empty handed.”

  And . . . that’ll do it. Swoon over. “They’re his?”

  He looks confused, but quickly teases, “Your powers of observation know no match.”

  I break into nervous giggles. “Oh, you know me!”

  “Actually, I don’t.” Kellan leans in, close enough to my ear that I feel his breath on my neck. I’m helpless at suppressing the excited shiver that overtakes my whole body. “But maybe there’ll be a future opportunity to get to know new people, such as yourself. At least, I can
hope so. See you later, C.”

  When Kellan walks up the stairs, Jonah stares down toward me with an unreadable expression, thanks to a pair of dark sunglasses. I stare back, transfixed, before he turns to finish mounting the surfboards on the rack on top of his SUV.

  And then the spell is broken, and I stumble back to Cora, even more confused than before.

  Chapter 9

  What every daughter longs to hear her mother say at breakfast is what mine just announced: “You look awful.”

  I’d had nightmares all night. I’m utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, and wishing today was Sunday and not Monday. I do not want to go to school.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, nursing a cup of tea.

  “Did you have trouble sleeping?” my mother asks, and when she reaches out a hand, I hold my breath, because it looks like she’s about to take mine in hers. But she doesn’t. She picks up a pencil near my bowl instead.

  I crush down my disappointment. “Yeah. Bad dreams.”

  She opens up the newspaper to the crossword. “Dreams are mostly irrelevant. Just shake it off.”

  Sympathy is an alien creature to my mother. Why I should’ve expected it from her is beyond me. “But, obviously,” I point out, “sometimes dreams are valid.”

  “That’s wishful thinking, Chloe. Usually they’re nothing but images your brain cooks up while resting.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  She looks up from the paper, face scrunched in consternation. “Are you referring to the boy you think caused the shifts on Friday?”

  Irked, I insist, “He’s real.”

  “I have no doubt whatever boy you’re talking about is real.” Eyes drifting back to her crossword, she taps her pencil against the paper. “But I highly doubt you’ve seen him in your dreams before.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you had, we’d have known about it by now.”

  What does that mean?

  Caleb straggles in, refusing to eat, and looking just as tired as I feel. I cannot believe my parents have requested he escort me to and from school until the Quake shows up. Caleb doesn’t seem to mind, but I’m sure he’s got better things to do than babysit me all day.

  I’ve just moved my bowl and mug to the sink when my mother says, “You’re to visit the Seer tomorrow.”

  I look up, surprised.

  “Your father and I feel you could really use some guidance and insight, especially with the news you were given over the weekend. Don’t think that we haven’t noticed the turmoil you’ve been in during the last year.”

  Seriously? This how she’s going to play it? I mean, she’s virtually ignored me for the last year, not to mention most of my life, never bothering to even ask what was wrong. So, rather than being grateful she’s now noticing, I become angry. “If you’ve noticed, then why haven’t you tried to talk to me? Or help?”

  Caleb instantly busies himself with a section of the newspaper.

  “I’m mentioning it now, aren’t I?”

  That does it. “Too little, too late, Mother.” I stand up and stuff my backpack with notebooks, resentful at her hollow attempt at caring. It’s like, because Caleb is here, she’s putting on a show of motherly concern. But she isn’t fooling anyone. I’ve told him everything over the years. She’ll never get a shiny Mother of the Year award.

  Caleb’s smile is of supreme sympathy, but instead of making me feel better, I only become angrier. Her silence and distance is far preferred than this façade of caring.

  “Why do you think we’re sending you to a Seer, Chloe? This is us helping you.”

  “Wow, that’s excellent, Mother,” I snap. “Sending someone else in to do your dirty work. Am I really such a bother you can’t take five, ten minutes out of your busy day to take care of me? Or spend time with me? Is it really so wrong to expect you to occasionally ask me how I’m doing, maybe guide me through some of these difficult changes?” I’m gripping the island now, knuckles turning white under pressure.

  “Chloe,” Caleb says in a low voice. “Let’s just go.”

  My mother ignores him. “Every Magical has to go through Ascension. What makes you so special that you need extra attention to do so?”

  She might as well have slapped me.

  Worse yet, she’s clearly bored, like she can’t even be bothered to get worked up over this, either. “What do you want from me, Chloe? Should I hold your hand through the process? For gods’ sakes, you’re a Creator, and you will be sitting on the Council in a few years. Act like it. People will be looking to you for guidance and action. How do you think they’ll feel, finding out you’re an insecure little girl?”

  Even Caleb is appalled.

  She ruthlessly continues. “I will not tolerate my daughter acting like this. Pull yourself together and stop embarrassing yourself. You have many obligations ahead of you, Chloe, and we will not tolerate you tarnishing the Lilywhite legacy.”

  I can barely think, I’m so angry. This is how she sees me? “When were you ever asked to destroy a civilization? When were you ever asked to take life away from hundreds or thousands, or gods, even millions of souls? Would you be ready to do so, if asked?”

  “Stop being so maudlin,” she shoots back, her eyes like glittering marbles. “You may never be asked to do those things. And if you are, it’ll be your job.” My mother practically taunts me to counter her. When I don’t, she says flatly, “Sometimes I wonder if Fate made a mistake when it gave you the powers of Creation.”

  It’s a kick in the stomach.

  “Abigail,” Caleb snaps, angry himself now, “enough!”

  She ignores him just as easily as she does me. He and I leave her behind without even saying goodbye.

  The school bell rings the second I turn off the car’s engine, and within a minute, the parking lot transforms into a ghost town. I stay in the safety of my car, gripping the wheel while reliving the conversation with my mother over how I’m a great big disappointment to her. To everyone.

  What’s really sad is how I can’t remember the last time either parent said I love you to me. Truth be told, I don’t think they ever have.

  I beat my forehead against the steering wheel.

  “That’s going to be pretty,” Caleb says quietly.

  “Like it matters.”

  “Your mother is who she is. Expecting her to be anything else only hurts you.”

  “How stupid of me. I expected her to act like a mother.”

  “She loves you,” he says, but I cut him off.

  “She doesn’t, and you and I both know it.”

  “I think she does. But in her own way.”

  I try so hard not to cry. “Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Caleb tries to argue with me, get me to continue talking, but I all I want to do is go to class and pretend none of this happened. He reluctantly lets me go, reminding me he’ll meet me after school.

  I’m walking across the parking lot when I spot the twins standing next to a rather expensive looking yellow sports car. I try not to stare, but it’s a lost cause. Both turn at the same time to look at me, and as luck would have it, I stumble over the curb.

  FANTASTIC. I’m contemplating creating a hole to sink into, when Kellan gives me a worried, sympathetic smile. And Jonah is watching me with what appears to be genuine concern. He moves forward, like he’s going to come over to help me, but then Kellan calls out, asking if I’m okay.

  “Fine, thanks,” I croak. And then I rush away as fast as I can, because I can’t deal with this on top of everything else this morning.

  By the time I get to the office, I’m nearly out of breath, humiliated, still angry at what’s happened with my mother and rubbing at a very sore forehead. So I’m not exactly in the best of moods when the ancient attendance clerk levels a stern look at me. “Miss Lilywhite,” she says in her steely voice, and I’m momentarily taken aback, because someone her age ought to sound frail and not like a battlefield general. “Tardy
by twenty minutes. What would your mother think?”

  “Ex-excuse me?” I stutter.

  She points a gnarled finger at me. “I said, what would your mother think? She was an excellent student, never late once. I remember, missy. I was here when she was, and she was a really top-notch pupil. It would do you a world of good if you tried to be more like her.”

  I gape at her for a couple of incredulous seconds before something in me snaps. “Are you kidding?”

  Her back yanks straight in outrage. “What was that, young lady?”

  “I said, are you kidding?” It isn’t my finest hour. But, man—I can’t deal with the comparison, not after what happened earlier.

  The clerk narrows her eyes at me. Then in clear, crisp words, she says, “Too bad you’re not more like her.”

  Everything in my mind sort of short circuits. How dare she! The little voice in my head urges me to calm down, but I’m seeing red. I lean my palms against the counter and hiss, “Shut your mouth! You have no idea what she’s like! I couldn’t be happier that I’m nothing like her!”

  The clerk opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s a tardy. Give me my slip already and back off!”

  The little voice is shouting at the top of its lungs: Are you INSANE? Do you want to get SUSPENDED? Shut. Up. NOW!

  “HOW DARE YOU!” the clerk shrieks, her eyes bugging out.

  “I said—”

  “ARE YOU THREATENING ME?”

  The counter below me shudders, and for one small, irresponsible moment, I contemplate blowing it up just to see what she’d do. But then I remove my hands and curl them into fists at my sides. She’s not your mother, the little voice whispers. She’s just a school clerk. Her opinion of you means nothing. Taking your anger out on her isn’t worth it. So I take a deep breath and say through gritted teeth, “Of course not, Ms. Applebaum. It would be unwise for a student to even think of doing that during their senior year.”

  “That’s a poor excuse for an apology if I’ve ever heard one. Who knew what a mouth you have on you? You have everyone so fooled, thinking you are just a delightful girl, but I know better. I’ve always seen you for what you are.” The gnarled finger is pointing at me again. “Don’t think I won’t call your mother!”