“You’re crazy!”
“What?”
His eyes narrow. “I’m not sure if you’re upset about not getting an ability, or you’re trying to make me feel better but—”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I can see things, Elliott!”
“And you’re trying to tell me my power is making people Elevateds? How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.”
“Rose. You need rest. Or something.”
“Elliott, listen.”
“You need rest.”
Before I can say another word, he stands up and leaves. I sit there and play with the ice cubes in my glass again. Couldn’t have expected this reaction. My first instinct is to message Aaron, but I still haven’t told him about my ability and it’s not the sort of thing you text someone about.
Checking the calendar on my phone, I find the next communication with Dad won’t be for another two weeks. Frustrated, I toss my phone on the table. I need to speak with him now more than ever. Even then, I won’t dare bring up my ability. The government monitors our conversations. They have to, since he’s still technically an Unsound. Makes it impossible to confide my deepest secrets to him. Makes it impossible for him too, even if Mom thinks I’m paranoid.
I need a friend. Someone I can tell these things too, or already—
Jex.
Jex already knows I have an unauthorized power. He might be able to give me more information on my father. I also remember him mentioning how he wanted to use my ability to help their group. The last thing I want is to learn more about my ability. I want to destroy it. Go back to a normal, safe life.
On the other hand, I can’t help feeling like a safe life is now impossible.
CHAPTER SIX
There’s an awkward atmosphere at school as students return from GEMO break. Technically, displaying powers is forbidden outside of class, so everyone wears clothing with slogans to show off their new powers. A girl wears a hot pink shirt that reads, “Graspers Are the Best!” A boy comes in with “I got the electric touch” written on his face with black ink.
However, for every student with a tacky shirt or temporary tattoo, six or seven hold their head down and try to act as invisible as possible. A few try to join the act with shirts with sayings like, “Undetermined, but Destined for Greatness” or "Proud Undetermined.” As the day goes on, I wish I had one that says, “Stop Asking Me About My Ability.” You can’t walk a few feet without someone asking about your Elevation Day.
I’m relieved when Aaron joins me. Few kids will ask about my ability now. Aaron is well known for his stance against Elevateds.
A scrawny boy next to us crunches into the school lockers, causing a human sized dent. “Sorry,” he says. “Don’t know my own strength.”
“Sure,” Aaron says. “Show off.”
Tables with different company recruiters line the hallways. They have signs like “We Hire Jumpers,” “Graspers Welcome!” and “Harness Your Electricity.” Shelly talks to the representative for a company advertising for Fliers.
“Have a friend who’s a Flier?” the agent asks.
“No,” Shelly says as she picks up a brochure. “I’m the Flier. Can I make an appointment?”
The agent grimaces. “Sorry, but we are only interested in Fliers at the moment.”
“But I’m a Flier.”
“No you’re not.”
“You must be able to tell. There’s a sixth sense about Fliers. We recognize our own kind.”
The agent stands up. “You’re going to need to leave now.”
Shelly groans and heads down the hall.
One at the end of the row says, “Training for Basics and Undetermined.” I catch a few classmates sneaking over to snatch a pamphlet.
“No one wants to advertise they’re a Lesser,” Aaron says.
“Stop using that term.”
I’m tempted to grab a brochure, but I already know I need a good score on the SKT to get into Orbison University’s botany program. Thankfully, that’s a few months away. Maybe Aaron can give me some crash math lessons.
There's a scuffle behind us as Zach dashes through the hall followed by a group of giggling girls.
"Come on, a little peek?" asks one of them.
A big black jacket covers his entire upper body, but you can see there is a muscular body underneath. Flying must be good exercise. He speeds up and tries to lose them by zigzagging through the crowd.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” he says.
The girl flutters her eyelashes. “Tessla told me. You’re a Flier. Girls like Fliers.”
"Indeed," he says as he cuts through an opening and loses them in the group of students.
Aaron raises his eyebrows. “Zach is king on campus now. He’s got his pick.”
All the girls seem to be staring at him. He has to realize they only like him because he’s a Flier. A couple of days ago, they didn’t even realize he existed. He saw through their acts. At least I hope so.
Another girl grabs his jacket and throws it off, revealing his well-developed arms. The gathering crowd starts pointing, giggling, and giving each other high-fives. Zach scampers over to get his jacket, and a girl pulls on his wingvest, trying to get it open. He wrestles his way free and snatches his jacket.
Miss Dukay rushes over and helps him put it back on. “That’s enough stupidity for today.” She shakes her head judgmentally at the girls and then holds out a stack of brightly colored papers. “Make sure you take a map. Everyone has new classrooms based on their new abilities.”
I take a map and open it to read. Fliers, Jumpers, or Climbers now meet at the South Entrance. Agility, Hearing, and Seeing are in Classroom B. I skim past a dozen more groups to find my new home is with the Basics in Classroom H. I wonder how many classmates I’ll have. With the bell a few minutes away, the students head to their classrooms. Zach zips past me.
“Um—isn’t the South Entrance back the other way?” I point towards a small group of kids heading the opposite direction.
Zach turns and charges ahead to catch up, arms flailing around like a palm tree in a hurricane.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, your next Flier,” Aaron says. “At least until he ends up lost in Antarctica.”
***
Classroom H is the smallest classroom on campus. The narrow room has just enough space for a dozen students. I’m fortunate enough to grab a desk near the window. At least I’ll be able to watch the pretty daisies growing along the edge of the school.
Miss Laura stares at her book, refusing to make eye contact with the class. “Some of you, I’m sure, are feeling rather confused or lost. It is difficult to watch your friends change and evolve while remaining a Basic. While some are here by choice, there are others not healthy enough to undergo treatment. It is the goal of this class to prepare you for the future. It’s a tough job market out there for Basics. Competition is fierce. The important thing you must learn is to find a skill, something deep inside, which sets you apart. And that will be the focus of this class.”
She clicks a button and our screens pop up with “Assessment Test.”
“Don’t bother looking up the page count. I can tell you it’s big. This is all we’ll work on today.”
Groans of disapproval echo through the room. The beautiful daisies rustling by the window catch my attention. Beyond them, a group of Fliers stand on a tall platform ready to make their first jump. Each one has a harness on their wingvest strapped to a cable, which extends about 100 feet to another platform. They take turns leaping off the platform, attempting to fly for the first time. Zach goes first and soars across the field like a pro. Must have been practicing at Fowler’s Grove a lot. When the teacher isn’t watching, Tessla rips off her harness. She jumps off and glides smoothly before careening out of control and into a thorny bush. I can’t help but smile. At least someone is having a worse day than me. Aaron taps me on the shoulder and points at my screen. Shruggi
ng, I focus back on the test.
By the time I finish it, my brain is mush. The results will probably tell me I’m perfect for a job as a Short Order French Fry Cook. And that’s if I’m lucky.
“Results will be posted in tomorrow’s class,” says Miss Laura.
“Oh, goody,” Aaron says.
I’m not sure why he acts so nervous; he has nothing to worry about. With his math brain, he has lots to offer. While some people become Analyzers, it doesn’t necessarily mean they have the skill to utilize their power for math. Basics with solid math skills are always in demand. Me on the other hand—
“How ‘bout a milkshake?” Aaron asks. “After a crummy day like today, I could use a sugar boost.”
“Sorry, don’t think I can tonight.”
“Date with the boyfriend?”
“No!” I slam my screen shut. “I…just have things to do.”
I still haven’t figured out how to tell Aaron about my ability. But I know I’ll have to. I won’t be able to keep my meetings with Jex private for long.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Aaron says as we head out of the classroom.
“Aaron!” calls a voice behind us.
It’s Shelly. I forgot she sat in our class. She had been mercifully quiet the whole day.
She speaks softly, her voice broken. “I need your help.”
“What can I do?” Aaron asks.
“I want information. I need the truth. Why was I put on the scrubbed list?”
“Scrubbed list?” Aaron asks.
“I’m perfectly healthy. There’s no reason why—” Her voice trembles. “Why I didn’t get the treatment.”
“How should I know?” Aaron turns to leave.
Shelly stops him. “You know things. I see you carry around those Basic Brigade newsletters. You know what’s going on.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know if I believe everything in those newspapers.”
“I want the TRUTH!” Shelly yells. “Why! Why I was scrubbed off the list, why no one will tell me what’s going on!”
She starts to cry. Hard to believe only a week ago she skipped down the halls showing off wingvest designs she planned on wearing.
Aaron sighs. “Let’s be honest, you have more access than we do. Your father is head of GEMO Control.”
“My father won’t say anything to me either. Says he doesn’t want to frighten me. But I can tell there’s something more.”
“What do you think it is?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t either.” Shelly starts crying again.
Aaron rolls his eyes and walks off.
Shelly calls out to him. “But—Aaron! If you do find out anything, tell me!”
Aaron turns, his face flashing red. “If he won’t tell you, how do you think we could find out?”
And with that, he stomps out the door. Shelly continues crying. I understand Aaron’s frustration after months of Shelly’s lengthy speeches and theatrics, but he could have been more sensitive.
“Aaron doesn’t trust anyone in the government,” I say, in an attempt to make me feel better about his actions.
Shelly’s eyes grow wide. “You can trust me. You will trust me, right? If you find out anything?”
Her pleading face scares me. There’s nothing I can tell her and I can’t promise to get Aaron to help. I don’t even know if I can trust her. I have my own secrets to worry about.
“I see. Fine!” Shelly says as she storms out of the room.
Immediately, I feel guilty and try to chase her down, although I have no idea what I will say when I catch up to her. In the end, I don’t have to worry, as she takes off in a flash and is out of sight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As I watch the other passengers on the city bus, I’m grateful it’s only late afternoon. They seem like types whose mode goes from creepy to mugger after dark. A fuzzy man next to me wears clothes caked in grime and growls like a bear at each stop. A woman with scraggly hair on the other side swats at spiders on her face that aren’t there.
I hate the bus.
Unfortunately, there isn’t a chance in a million my mom will give me a ride to the Home for Basics. Mr. Roberts would have a coronary if I even asked him. A dark thought makes me wonder if perhaps that would solve my problems with him.
The bus creaks and moans the whole trip. I breathe a sigh of relief when it slumps into the final stop and I’m still alive. I need to suck it up and tell Aaron about my ability. He has a car.
I unlock the door with my thumb and push my way through the stacks of grimy boxes to Jex’s desk. He is typing on the computer and doesn’t notice me until after a cheese puff crunches under my foot. “You’re late.”
“Sorry, I took the bus.”
He glances up at me. “Are you ever going to tell Aaron?”
“Maybe.”
“When?”
“Not sure.”
“You must like the bus.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
Jex snorts. “So you’re here to learn about your power.”
“Yes, so I can control it. And not use it.”
“You don’t want to use it?”
“No. I wish I didn’t have it to begin with.”
Jex leans back in his chair. “Hate to tell you this, but as time goes on, you’re going to find it harder not to use it. It’s going to become part of you.”
“Sounds like a disease.”
“In a way, it is. Sure, there are some who overcome their abilities through meditation or religion, those who see the world for the crazy place it’s become. But most have to go with it. It’s like a drug. Once your power within is unleashed, it can’t be unlearned.”
“But if I practice, then at least I’ll gain better control.”
Jex smiles. “Possible. Now, shall we begin?”
I nod and Jex turns me around and stands back to back with me. There’s a lurch behind my back as Jex moves his arm. All at once, I see it in my mind. His arm. Outstretched. Holding some sort of card.
“What are you holding, Jex?” I ask.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“It’s a card, I can tell that. The size of a postcard.”
“Good, continue.”
“You have a pen in your pocket. No wait, it’s more like a marker.”
“Back to the card. What’s on it?”
I concentrate on the outline of the card, but I can’t see anything more. It’s blank.
“Is it blank?”
“It is right now,” Jex says.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the marker.
“You’re writing on the card,” I say, scanning his shadow.
“What did I write?”
My mind focuses on the card. Still blank. “I can’t tell. I mean, should I? Scanners only have dimensional perception.”
“Depends. Some Elevated can read simple characters. Some can see colors. It’s not consistent.”
“I only see outlines. Shapes, density, that sort of thing.”
“It’s still a powerful ability.”
He steps towards a pile of junk behind some shelves. It obscures his outline as my brain fights to filter through the clutter surrounding it. Jex turns the corner and fades away behind a bookcase.
“What am I doing now?”
He’s gone. My scanning only shows the outline of cluttered shelves filled with magazines, wires, and empty cans of beer. I concentrate on the shelves and a moving form appears through gaps in the items. My head twists as it tracks the shifting shadow. Reflex, I’m sure, since my eyes can’t assist with my scanning. It’s nothing like seeing normally. It’s more like the way my brain pieces together a memory of somebody’s face. It takes mental focus, but slowly the outline of Jex becomes clear again. His silhouette is darker than the objects in front of him. Faint, but still visible.
“Jumping jacks. You’re doing jumping jacks.”
“Right,” Jex huffs after he stops. “Your sense of density is quite good. Keep working on it.”
“Weird, at home I can see through walls easily, but here it’s hard to see very far.”
“You can see through walls?”
“Yeah, at home I can.”
“Fascinating. Must have a powerful density filter. Which is why you’re thrown off here. Too much junk around. A wall is uniform. Easier to filter out.”
“So I guess I shouldn’t be trying this trick at a warehouse.”
“Wouldn’t recommend it.” Jex motions his hand for me to turn around, which I do. He smiles. “Ok, now that was cool.”
We both laugh.
Jex steps over to his desk and pulls out some papers. “I hacked the university server and downloaded these files. Instructions on harnessing Scanner ability. Good exercises. We’ll go through them together. We’ve already done the first one. I can safely establish you are a “High Density, Low Surface Area Scanner” which means we’re going to focus on surface area challenges.”
We go right to work. The exercises involve Jex writing things or asking me to describe textures of objects. We go for hours and the drills begin to scramble my head. The line between what I see with my eyes and my sonar becomes fuzzy. Reality itself loses its color and texture from the sensory overload. After the fourth exercise, I’m exhausted.
“You need to take a break,” Jex says. “I’ll go get some water.”
With Jex out of the room, my brain relaxes and I find myself collapsing into the office chair. I haven’t felt like this since my algebra exam last year. Jex returns with a glass of water and hands it to me. I have to smile when I spot the large can of beer he brought for himself.
“You’re doing great. In fact, I think you’ll be ready very soon,” Jex says, chugging the beer down.
“Ready for?”
“Think it’s time to find out about your dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me your father was labeled an Unsound. But you weren’t given a classification.”
“No, they said they don’t release that information.”
Elevated (Book 1): Elevated Page 6