Discovery

by Lisa White

  “Is he doing that?” Grace asked, pointing to the ball jerking from one player to the next, never landing in anyone’s hands.

  “Yes,” laughed Petra. “Hilarious, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” chuckled Grace. She had to admit the game was more enjoyable than she had expected.

  The batter continued to yell at the ball while the Physicals team raced from side to side trying to catch the ball that weaved back and forth in mid-air. Even Lofty, who quickly flew from one side of the field to the other in the bright sunshine, could not catch up to the zigzagging ball. After the ball had flown over the field five times, it raced back to the opposite end zone and swooshed through the basket perched high atop the goal. As soon as the scoreboard reflected the Mentals point, the batter waved his hand and the ball dropped instantly to the ground at the base of the basketball goal. The crowd cheered and Grace assumed most of the gray-haired fans in the bleachers were Mentals fans.

  Vector leaned over to Ben. “We may beat you Physicals again today, my boy,” he chuckled.

  Ben laughed, “Not if I can help it.” He stood up and yelled to Dave, “Hey Ref! Can I get in on this?”

  Dave smiled and looked over at the coach for the Mentals. The coach cocked his head for a moment and then waved Ben in, grinning, “Bring it on, Benjamin!”

  The team members sitting on the Physicals bench cheered when Ben jogged out onto the field. The other Physicals fielders clapped and waved Ben out almost to the edge of the field before he stopped and turned around. He bent down into a catching stance, even though he had no mitt.

  Even at that distance, Grace thought she could still see the blue in his eyes.

  “This ought to be good,” Petra said, nodding toward the field.

  The next batter stepped up and again stopped the ball mid-air before taking a hard swing. The ball flew into the air, but this time, Ben was faster. Before the batter could maneuver the ball between the fielders, Ben jumped twenty feet into the air and caught the ball in his bare hands. He landed in the field, his two feet firmly planted, and held the ball up high over his head with one hand. The crowd let out a collective disgruntled sigh as Dave yelled, “Out!”

  And so it went with the next two batters until the inning was over and the Physicals came to bat. Ben was the fourth batter for the Physicals team and, although he tried to hold back, he hit the ball so hard it disappeared into the trees beyond the clearing.

  “That’s an automatic score. I certainly hope we have enough balls to finish the game,” Dave smarted to Ben when he ran into the end zone.

  Ben laughed as he headed back to the Physicals bench. On his way, he glanced up at Grace who actually returned his smile for the first time today. She appeared to be enjoying herself and Ben hoped the game was erasing the edge she had developed yesterday.

  “He’s a cute one, that Ben. Isn’t he?” Petra asked Grace when she saw their quick exchange of smiles.

  “Yeah,” Grace whispered sheepishly.

  Still looking straight ahead at the field, Petra continued, “You know Grace, I can’t see everything in the future, but what I can see is not always set in stone. Sometimes things change. Sometimes for the better.”

  Grace did not reply but kept her eyes on the Physicals team bench. And Ben.

  The game progressed with each team taking turns being in the lead. Finally, with Ben’s help, the Physicals team won, much to the dismay of the elder fans in the bleachers.

  “Better luck next time, Vector,” Dave shook the old man’s hand after helping him exit the bleachers at the end of the game. “It was about time the Physicals had a fighting chance against us Mentals.”

  Vector laughed, “Yes, I guess you’re right about that. And I did enjoy seeing young Benjamin in action. Reminded me of his father.” Vector turned to Grace and bowed as much as his stooped back would let him. “It was a pleasure experiencing your first game with you, my lady, and I look forward to seeing you tonight.” Without waiting for a response, Vector hobbled out of the clearing toward his shop.

  Grace turned to Petra. “What’s going on tonight?”

  “Oh, just a little get together at our community center. Nothing special. We have them at the end of each week,” Petra smiled. Seeing Grace glance down at her blue jeans, she added, “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We’ll find something for you to wear. Come on. Let’s go home and freshen up.” Petra pulled Grace toward the path, leaving Dave at the bottom of the bleachers and Ben on the sidelines.

  As soon as Petra and Grace were out of sight, Ben darted over to Dave. “Can you see if she’s still mad?” he asked.

  “It’s not real clear, but the way she was smiling and all, she might have cooled down a little,” Dave said without looking at Ben.

  “I sure hope so,” Ben sighed as he headed down the dirt path. He walked slower than usual and Dave had to work at curtailing his own long stride to maintain his pace alongside Ben.

  Neither said much at first but Dave’s thoughts finally got the best of him.

  “I know you love her, son,” Dave said, still staring at the path in front of him.

  Ben let out a deep breath. “I know you know. You weren’t exactly subtle the other night.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Not much I can do. I’m just her Guardian. Tom’s the Chosen One, remember?”

  “Does your brother know how you feel?”

  “He might have suspected it a while back, but probably not now,” Ben said hopefully. “I mean … I’ve told him over and over again … I know my job. I’m her Guardian.”

  “How does Tom feel about Grace?”

  “I don’t know. We never really discussed it.”

  “Huh,” Dave grunted.

  “What do you mean ‘huh’?”

  “Nothing. Just can’t believe you all never discussed it.”

  Dave noticed that Ben’s pace quickened slightly just then. Nothing was said for the next few strides as Dave now reworked the speed of his steps to keep up with Ben.

  “Did I ever tell you how Petra and I met?” Dave asked once his steps were back in pace with Ben’s.

  “No.”

  “Do you remember Studio 54 in New York?”

  “It was kind of before my time, old man. Way before my time. But I know what you’re talking about.” Ben sounded like he was quickly losing interest in Dave’s conversation.

  “Man, that was the place to be when I was younger. Your father and I practically lived there. We were so socially naïve back then, we actually thought we could dance,” Dave chuckled. “If you were a Power secretly looking for other Powers, that’s where you’d go. It was an absolute blast.”

  “Good to know.” Ben rolled his eyes.

  “Yep. It truly was a blast,” Dave continued to reminisce, ignoring Ben’s tone. “And then one night we walked in and there she was. You couldn’t miss her. Petra was all decked out in this tight, silver metallic jumpsuit from head to toe. She was so shiny she reflected every light in the room. I don’t know what sparkled more, the huge Studio 54 disco ball or Petra. She was perfectly beautiful. And the minute your dad and I walked in, do you know what she did? She came right up to me and said she’d been waiting for me. Over everyone else in the room, that gorgeous stranger was waiting for me! I couldn’t believe it,” Dave laughed, shaking his head.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Ben asked.

  Dave continued to ignore Ben. “You see Petra had seen the future. She knew she was supposed to be with me. But instead of waiting for it to happen, she made it happen. Kind of sped up the process, so to speak. She didn’t wait for the future to come to her. She met up with her future on her own schedule.”

  “So?”

  “So, it just goes to show that the future is not always concrete, son. Sometimes you have to make your own.”

  Without another word, Ben instantly disappeared. He sped down the path and away from Dave, leaving nothing but a little dust to evidence he had been th
ere.

  Dave smiled to himself. “Yep, sometimes you have to make your own.”

  Chapter Twenty: The Dance

  The butterfly’s large frozen wings spread wide across the cabin’s front porch railing, splayed out as if encased in an entomologist’s shadow box. Despite the insect’s evident lack of life, Grace was envious of its stillness, its vibrant colors now forever motionless perched atop the wooden rail. Death had not touched the beauty of the butterfly’s wings, only its mashed and crooked body revealed its now-determined fate. Grace stared at the wings, hypnotized by their quiet waves of delicate color. Without thinking, but with an unrecognized need, she reached out to caress one of the large wings, to feel its fragile softness. Her tingling fingers had barely touched the velvety wing when it suddenly began to move. Grace quickly pulled her hand back, afraid that her closeness would ruin the moment. She held her breath as she watched the wing slowly move up and down, up and down. The other wing joined in the dance and, within seconds, the previously lifeless butterfly was standing, stretching and pumping its wings to the rhythmic beat of Grace’s heart, its crooked body now straight and lean and ready for takeoff. The butterfly’s wings worked furiously now, it’s vivid colors now indistinguishable with the wings’ speed and, before Grace knew what was happening, the butterfly floated off the railing and flitted into the dense forest surrounding Dave’s cabin. Grace watched the resurrected butterfly disappear into the trees’ green leaves and assumed that, perhaps, death worked differently in the Misfit community.

  She thought of the butterfly’s brilliant colors as she looked down at the simple black dress Petra had chosen for her for the evening’s festivities. It was short, fun, and nothing like what she would normally wear. She tugged at the top of the dress, trying to close up the deep V-neck bodice that barely covered her full beasts. It was the kind of dress Ben would have teased her about if he had seen her in it, but given that she had not seen Ben since the ball game that afternoon, and that Dave and Petra were just as clueless regarding his whereabouts, Grace had been unable to get his opinion of her attire before she left Dave’s cabin for the evening.

  “You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Petra said, exiting the cabin’s screen door. She wrapped her arm around Grace’s waist and the two ladies stood together on the front porch waiting for Dave who, as usual, was running late, unable to find his belt for the party. Twilight was pushing aside the day and the forest surrounding the cabin would soon be darkening. Petra left Grace’s side and lit a lantern to guide them through the woods.

  “Thanks,” Grace smiled. “But are you sure this dress isn’t a little too tight?” She looked down at the little black dress that was discreet by normal standards. However, in Grace’s self-conscious mind, all she could see were the tops of her breasts trying to hide below the low–cut neckline.

  Petra patted Grace’s hand. “Your Majesty, that dress was practically made for you. I’ve already seen that you will be the most beautiful girl there tonight.”

  Dave burst out the cabin door, still putting his belt on. “Come on, ladies. If we don’t go now, we’ll miss dinner and I’m starving.” He grabbed the lantern out of Petra’s hand and then pulled her down the cabin steps in a rush.

  Grace followed the couple down the almost dark path through the woods but before they reached the main road, they turned onto a new path that veered to the right and up another hill. At the top of the small hill sat the largest cabin in the Misfit community. It had a wraparound porch and steep roofline, and the sign stretching across the front entrance indicated it was the community center. Strings of white lights outlined the roof, porch banisters and stairs, and the smell of barbeque filling the outside air combined with the tiny, twinkling lights to make it feel like Christmas in July. People overflowed from the porch and stairs and Dave had to fight his way through the crowd to get to the building’s entrance.

  “I thought you said this was just a little get together,” Grace whispered in Petra’s ear as they climbed the front steps. Everyone they passed stared at Grace as if she were a rarely seen masterpiece painting from some traveling art exhibit.

  “Well, that’s what this was supposed to be, a little barbeque after the game, but I guess Your Majesty’s presence has brought out the gawkers too,” Petra whispered back, holding onto Grace’s hand a little tighter as they reached the top step.

  The trio entered the community center whose interior looked like King Arthur’s banquet hall had mated with a seventies discotheque. The expansive room was beautifully decorated with ancient tapestries and oil paintings covering the log walls. Large rustic, round, wooden tables with heavy matching chairs scattered the room’s edges, but it was the center of the room that caught Grace’s immediate attention. The tables bordered an open dance floor in the middle of the room and the largest disco ball she had ever seen twirled from the wood-beamed cathedral ceiling above, catching and reflecting the glittering lights of the candles on the tables below. The smell of vanilla filled the room and, despite the hall’s enormous size, an air of comfortableness fell over Grace, as she stood in between Dave and Petra in the massive doorway.

  “Pretty cool room, isn’t it?” Dave leaned over and nudged Grace. “But try not to spill anything on the tapestries or touch the paintings. Originals are hard to replace, you know,” he whispered matter-of-factly in her ear.

  The painting hanging nearest to Grace beside the door looked familiar to her and she tried to recall what little she remembered from her high school art history class. “Wait … is that what I think it is?” she asked, squinting her eyes to take a closer look at the picture.

  “Yes,” Petra replied. “Vermeer’s Milkmaid. The original. The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam thinks it has the original, but it’s just a really, really, really good copy.”

  “Was he a Power?”

  “How else do you think we would have the original?” Dave laughed. “Of course he was a Power. He was one of the lucky ones who got to practice his powers out in the open. Before all that Salem murder mess. But forget those stupid old paintings.” Dave pulled Grace away from the doorway, toward the center of the room and pointed to the ceiling. “Check out the disco ball. Isn’t that a beaut?”

  Grace had to admit the ball was better than any disco ball she had seen, but she was now really more interested in the various paintings hung haphazardly and unprotected around the room.

  “Came from Studio 54 where Petra and I met,” Dave continued, still looking up at the large spinning ball.

  “Oh, Dave,” Petra said. “Can’t you see Grace is not as enamored with that blasted ball as you are? Go get yourself some food and leave Her Majesty in peace for a moment.”

  Dave pulled Petra to him and kissed her cheek. “Sorry. I just get so excited thinking about you in all that silver,” he laughed before heading back out the door.

  Looking around the room, Grace spotted a few of the Misfits she had met the other night. But no Ben.

  “Ben’s not here yet. But I saw that he will be very soon,” Petra smiled knowingly. “Come on. I see Rebecca over there.”

  Petra took Grace’s hand and guided her to one of the large round tables near the dance floor. The table was full of women but Rebecca was the only face familiar to Grace. The shape shifter was just as beautiful as Grace had remembered and she actually stood and curtsied when Grace approached.

  “Welcome, Your Majesty,” Rebecca said. “Would you like to join us?”

  Grace sat down next to Rebecca and was quickly introduced around the table. On the other side of Rebecca was her younger sister, Sarah, who was empowered with the ability to imitate other people’s voices. She, too, had short spiky hair but she had dyed hers brilliant neon blue, as if she was trying to become more parrot-like in her appearance in order to match her power. Directly across from Grace and beside Sarah sat a short, fat older woman named Birch who, despite her looks, could stretch, twist, and turn her arms, legs, and torso to inhuman lengths.

  “Such a great
pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” Birch smiled as she reached her elastic arm out and over the table’s four foot diameter to shake Grace’s hand.

  “You too,” Grace smiled. She hesitantly took Birch’s hand, which, despite the rubbery look of her extended arm, revealed quite a firm handshake.

  “So what do you think of our little community?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s lovely,” Grace replied.

  “Oh, tell us the truth, honey,” Birch laughed. “I know you are freaking out over all our little eccentricities, as I like to call them. Shoot, we’re a bunch of weirdoes even in the Powers world!”

  “Birch has lived here longer than almost anyone else here,” Petra leaned over to Grace. “She was one of the founders of the Misfit community.”

  “Oh, Petra,” Birch smirked and rolled her eyes. She looked over at Grace. “What she’s really saying is that I’m as old as the hills. Or in our case, our mountain itself. But I still get a kick out of meeting first-time visitors here and seeing their reactions. So, tell us. What do you really think about this place, Your Highness?”

  Grace thought for a moment. “Honestly, it is a little overwhelming. I mean, just last week, I was some silly waitress trying to figure out what to do with my life — ”

  “And now,” Birch interrupted, “now you are smack dab in the middle of some stupid battle for control between the Powers and Anti-Powers. But don’t you worry, honey. You’re safe here with us. The Council may not see us fit to be Guardians in the outside world but surely with all of us here we can protect one little human. Statistically, the odds are in our favor.”

  “Great.” Grace half-smiled. Fantastic. Now she was a statistic.

  “Rebecca, is DJ coming?” Petra asked, steering the subject away from Grace’s pending doom.

  “Already here.” Rebecca pointed to the far back right corner of the room.

  There, behind an elaborate sound system, DJ was preparing to live up to his name. As if he heard the ladies talking, the tall, slender man with a ponytail looked up and winked at Rebecca just as the lights softened and an old Bee Gees ballad flowed from his surround sound. The disco ball twirled slower to the ballad’s beat and the room was instantly transformed into an imitation Studio 54.