Elemental

by Debbie Kump

  “Well, you can stop right there,” Micah said as he jammed the flowery pen into the metal clip on the board. “I didn’t hit her that bad.”

  “Except for messing up her arm,” Sully retorted under his breath.

  “And maybe I wouldn’t have messed up her arm if I didn’t have to stop you from messing around with my iTunes.”

  “Well maybe I wouldn’t have had to mess around with them,” Sully snipped back, “if you didn’t listen to such crappy music.”

  Despite my current predicament, I couldn’t help but chuckle. As Micah and Sully bickered, a glorious idea formed in my head. Without realizing it, Sully had presented a valid cover for me, guaranteeing my survival just when I thought my future held none.

  Amnesia. It was perfect.

  But before they escalated into a heated squabble, a nurse arrived to take the papers from Micah and guide us into the examining room. Though she asked me a heap of additional questions, I felt no fear in replying, “I don’t know,” to them all. Even better, Sully piped in, “I think she might have amnesia,” justifying my responses.

  I felt my shoulders relax. At this rate, I’d be out of here in no time and ready to find a new place to hide until my arm properly heals. Then I could end things with Gaia.

  This will be so easy. The nurse deftly conducted a series of tests and informed me of the results. I glanced over at Micah and Sully, wondering if my results sounded as normal as she professed. But they both stared at the tiny screens of their similar black devices, completely oblivious to my presence. I couldn’t understand what they found so interesting in such a small object.

  A minute ended up seeming more like ten before I heard a polite knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, a balding, bespectacled man in a white lab coat entered the room. Micah and Sully peeked up from their screens for a fraction of a second to mumble a greeting. The lab coat man showed little surprise by their reaction, though his eyebrows quickly found their way to the top of his head when he took one look at me. “I’m Doctor Atkins,” he said. He stuck out one hand to shake mine, but reconsidered at my ragged appearance. He tried to mask his initial impression by asking, “Now, Jordan, what seems to be the problem?”

  Out of habit, I prepared to reply, “I don’t know,” when I realized I did know the answer to that particular question. With a grimace, I gestured toward my swollen arm that throbbed in pain.

  “Right. Let’s take a look at that.” He placed his fingers upon my forearm, rotating it slightly.

  Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and squealed.

  “It may be broken,” he predicted. “We’ll have to take some X-rays to be sure.”

  The nurse brought in a chair on wheels and took me down the hall. After the X-ray woman revolved my arm in several painful positions, the nurse wheeled me back to the examining room. The doctor fastened each picture to a special board and turned on the light to illuminate the images from behind. My mouth fell open as several pictures of my arm appeared…if viewed from the inside! I glanced down at my arm whose skin remained intact and then back at the pictures, astonished by the ghostly glow of each bone against the black background. I peeked at Sully and Micah—whose gazes hadn’t left the screens of their black devices since we entered the room—puzzled that they didn’t find this as intriguing as I did. As the doctor studied the X-rays, his mouth slid into a frown. He declared that I suffered from a displaced fracture on my right radius (whatever that meant), as well as smoke inhalation, bruising, mild abrasions, and possibly a concussion.

  The nurse wheeled in a cart of supplies, ready to assist the doctor in setting a waterproof cast on my arm. Wrapping a liner around my arm, he asked what color I’d like. Uncertain of how to respond, I merely shrugged my shoulders. So the nurse grabbed the closest material, soaked it in water, and quickly wound bright pink layers around my forearm that bubbled and fizzed while hardening. I looked at my highly visible arm with alarm. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but perhaps I should have been a bit proactive and selected a more subdued color.

  Satisfied with their work, the doctor reminded me to rest and avoid contact sports for the next four weeks while it healed. I almost told him I didn’t play any sports—unless you considered running for your life a “sport”—when a woman with a worried face and dark glasses wedged into her short brown hair rushed in to the room, towing behind her a little boy with big brown eyes.

  “I got your message,” she blurted breathlessly to Micah. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” he said, barely looking up from his screen.

  Her eyes darted to Sully. “And how about you? Are you hurt?”

  Sully also glanced up for half a second to shake his head. “No, Mrs. T. I’m fine, too.”

  Then Micah’s mom looked at me, puzzled.

  Micah nodded in my direction. “This is Jordan.”

  “Jordan? Is she one of your friends from school?” she asked.

  “Nope. We just met her,” Micah replied.

  While she studied Micah and Sully with skepticism, I looked at the little boy, unable to take my eyes off him. He seemed about the same age as my sister Sarah—at the time of her death. He caught my gaze and ducked behind his mom in fear. But when he peeked out, I flashed him a wide smile. When he smiled back a toothless grin, my heart leapt up in my throat. Sarah was also missing her front teeth.

  “All right. Tell me everything,” Micah’s mother said.

  “We were coming back from Half Moon Bay…” Micah trailed off with a sigh.

  “And…?” She narrowed her eyes.

  Sully continued, “She was in the middle of the road. We didn’t see her right away.”

  Micah’s mom crossed her arms over her chest. “And…?”

  “I wasn’t going that fast. And she wasn’t on the shoulder.”

  “And…!”

  Micah and Sully caught each other’s eye, but refused to speak.

  “Oh, you did not,” she gasped. “God, Micah, tell me you didn’t.”

  Micah’s eyes found the floor. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets.

  Aghast, his mom turned to me. “Did Micah actually hit you?”

  I glanced from Micah to Sully and back again, unsure of what to say. Then I remember what he told Sully in the waiting room. That he didn’t hit me that bad.

  “Not that bad,” I managed, though the words stuck inside my throat.

  Micah’s eyes immediately found mine. He glared at me with unexpected hostility. I swallowed hard, my back knotted with sudden fear.

  His mother’s jaw hit the floor. “I don’t believe it. After all we’ve been through since the…” She couldn’t complete her sentence before tears brimmed in her eyes. It took her a few minutes to regain her composure. Then her voice came out firm and strict. She pointed her index finger at Micah’s face. “No driving the car for a month.”

  Car? So that’s their name for the automated carriage.

  Micah’s face fell. “But, Mom, I didn’t see—”

  “Want to make it two?” she challenged.

  Shutting his mouth, Micah shifted his glare to me again. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered, too low for her to hear. “Grounded from the car…for a month.” His venomous hazel eyes sent a chill down my spine.

  Why did I ever open my stupid mouth?

  “So, Jordan,” she continued, her tone softer and more compassionate now, “do you live around here?”

  I shook my head, afraid to speak. It didn’t seem to take much to set her off.

  “Do you have family in this area?” she asked.

  I shook my head again, still silent.

  “Relatives?”

  I shrugged. Only this time I felt compelled to explain, “My family died a long time ago.”

  “Your whole family?” she said in disbelief.

  I nodded silently.

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, clamping her hand over her mouth. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” And she sounded like sh
e truly was. “So you’re telling me you’re the only one left?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” I said. Perhaps I should stick with shorter responses. Maybe those would generate less emotion from this woman.

  “But what will you do? Where will you go? Who will you stay with once you leave the hospital?”

  “Can she stay with us?” her little son chirped in a sweet, high-pitched voice. His big brown eyes looked at her with brightness and sincerity. “She can have my room and I can stay with Micah.”

  “Oh, please. You’re not inviting one of Lady Gaga’s Little Monsters to live in our house,” Micah protested. “Plus Cam snores in his sleep. And hogs the covers.”

  Though I’m not sure what swine and covers had in common, I found his description most puzzling. “Lady Gaga’s Little Monsters?” I repeated softly, my eyebrows knitting together.

  Sully leaned over. “Well, yeah. I mean, look at your hair. How you’re dressed.”

  I glanced down at my clothes, still confused, when Micah’s mom asked, “So how about it?”

  “I’m sorry?” I raised my head in confusion.

  “How about you stay with us?” she repeated.

  I politely declined, “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Nonsense. I insist. Micah can keep his room. I’ll pull out the futon in the basement. We’ve got a storage room down there that no one uses. It may not be much, but you’ll have your own space.”

  “I really can’t. I have to go—”

  “Go where? You’ve already said your family’s all…”—she swallowed hard—“gone.”

  “Um,” I trailed off. How could I get out of this situation without revealing too much? That I must rest so I can fight the other Elementals…and hopefully eliminate Gaia.

  “It’s final. What happened today is bad enough,” she said, shooting Micah a pointed look. “I won’t have the guilt of leaving you alone on the streets weighing on my conscience, too.”

  “Yay!” Cam cheered, his arms raised in the air as he jumped in jubilation.

  I bit my lip. “But I—”

  “It’s settled. I’ll speak with the nurse and see if they’re ready to release you.” She moved to leave but only made it halfway to the door before she turned around and marched back to my bedside.

  As an afterthought, she stuck out one hand toward me. When I lifted my cast to take her hand, a jolt of pain shot from my wrist to my shoulder. Seeing my grimace, she awkwardly shook my good hand instead. “I almost forgot. I’m Celia Trudeau. And this is Cameron,” she said, nodding her head toward the bouncing boy. She placed her hands on his shoulders to keep him still for a moment while he flashed me a broad, toothless grin. “And you’ve already met my other son, Micah. And obviously Sully who’s over at our house so much it’s like he’s adopted.”

  Sully gave a small wave, but Micah simply turned away, crossed his arms over his chest, and sulked in silence.

  “Now about that release.” Celia exited the room with the same flurry of activity in which she entered.

  I glanced over at Micah. Unlike Cam who started dancing in a circle again, Micah didn’t look the least bit thrilled. In fact, he looked almost irate, as if I completely ruined his life.

  What had I just agreed to? I always lived on my own. Always.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After the slip of my tongue left Micah grounded from driving for a month, I learned to keep my mouth shut. Things were better this way, I convinced myself. If I focused on listening and remembering, then I’d be ready to mimic others’ speech when needed.

  So the longer I remained hidden, the better. Especially with my injury.

  Only I wished I had decided to keep my mouth shut earlier. Celia asked Sully to drive Micah’s silver car that said Nissan Sentra across the tail end…and Micah did not look happy about her demand.

  Micah heaved a deep breath when Sully situated himself behind the wheel. Wringing his hands together, he kept his eyes glued to the road, refusing to look at me even once the whole way to his house. After Sully returned the keys, Micah dropped them safely inside his pocket, then barged through the front door and slammed it shut for effect.

  But before I could apologize, Celia directed me to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving me alone in a room full of unfamiliar contraptions. I stripped off my ruined dress and tossed it in the garbage can next to the sink, then stepped into what she had called a shower, slid the door shut…and wondered what to do next.

  It took me a couple of trials to figure out how to turn on the water and then a couple more to figure out how to make it hot, but I finally succeeded. I spun a small circle on the floor as a shower of water ran off my body and washed away some of the pain from landing in this time. At that very moment, I felt glad the doctor had the foresight to give me a waterproof cast, even though it was bright pink. After scrubbing off the layers of soot and grime with my good arm and rinsing clean, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Celia had left a fluffy white towel and a pile of clean clothes on the tiled floor. I wrapped the towel around me when I heard a soft knock.

  “Did you find the towel?” Celia called through the bathroom door.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I also set out a T-shirt, a pair of Micah’s old jeans, and a hoodie that might fit you. But I’ll have to take you underwear shopping tomorrow. All I could find were Micah’s old boxer shorts.”

  My face blushed, wondering who else could hear this conversation. I sifted through the clothes pile to find items that matched her description. Too preoccupied to respond right away, Celia added, “Don’t worry. The boxers are clean.”

  Better than nothing. I found something that looked like short silk pants with a polka-dotted print and a cinched waist and slid them up my legs. In fact, this seemed a huge improvement over those whalebone corsets I squeezed myself into when I lived in sixteenth century France. I threw on the shirt with short sleeves that actually resembled the letter T in shape. Well, at least I should be able to recall this new term with ease.

  I finished jamming my cast through the sleeve of the only article with a hood that I guessed was the “hoodie.” I pulled up the faded blue pants, which I suspected by process of elimination must be the “jeans” and opened the bathroom door. Celia helped drag a comb through my gnarled tangles, which definitely seemed a two-handed job. She held a strand of hair up to the light, frowning at its crisp, burnt ends. “You need a trim,” she stated and pulled a pair of scissors from a drawer under the sink.

  After Celia finished cutting my hair to an even length, the thick black strands that previously fell halfway down my back now bobbed lightly about my shoulders. Surprised by its short length, I didn’t know how to respond. Except her intentions were good, so I managed a small, “Thanks.”

  But Celia appeared far from done. Next, she scrubbed the soot from my nails and filed each smooth. “Is Primrose Passion okay?” she asked, grabbing a bottle from the counter. I shrugged, uncertain of what she meant. I caught a glimpse of the label that said Nail Polish in small letters before she twisted off its top to reveal a tiny brush suspending a thick drop that glistened pink in the bright bathroom lights. Then she painted each of my nails in two coats to match my cast and masked the dirt and chips.

  No one had ever taken such good care of me. Speechless, I grinned back at Celia, my tired eyes reflecting gratitude.

  Satisfied with her work, Celia smiled. “Much better…though you should probably get some rest. You look exhausted. I’ve already pulled out the futon for your bed, downstairs in the basement. The boys are on the couch but they’re too wrapped up in their video games to bother you. Get some sleep, and let me know if you need anything else.”

  I nodded. “Thank you,” I said, though the words didn’t adequately describe my true appreciation. Then I walked downstairs to my futon bed, wanting nothing but to stretch out and rest as she’d suggested.

  When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I fo
und Micah and Sully on the couch, staring at a flurry of vibrant movement on a giant screen with resonating sound effects…probably the video games Celia had mentioned. I felt too weary to make sense of the game, so I glanced at the boys instead. Still bitter from his punishment, Micah didn’t look up. But Sully did.

  “You clean up nice,” Sully said, his blue eyes lighting up. One side of his mouth turned into a cute, crooked grin.

  An unexpected smile spread across my face.

  What do you care, Jordan? Remember, you’re here only to absorb, assimilate, and heal. You don’t have time for distractions.

  Right. No distractions.

  But despite my fatigue, it couldn’t hurt to sit down and listen in on their conversation for a bit. I was still in the basement…still hiding, after all. Plus, maybe I could actually learn something in the process.

  I found a spot on the edge of the cushiony leather couch, as far from Micah as possible. Not that it mattered; he didn’t seem to notice my presence. For several minutes, I watched their fingers manipulate controllers to move small, ugly green figures on the giant screen. I’d never seen anything like it. Almost as if they wielded the power to determine the fate of those things.

  “What are you playing?” I asked, assuming they used this game for personal enjoyment. Though with how red Micah’s face grew, I doubted “enjoyment” accurately described his feelings, either.

  Without answering my question, Micah swore under his breath when his creature withered away and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “Not again,” he moaned, slamming his controller down on a low table resting on short legs.

  Sully laughed. His fingers adeptly moved his controller, quickly scooting his figure out of harm’s way.

  With his tongue stuck out one side of his mouth in concentration, Sully leaned one way then the next on the couch, quickly evading the attackers, until the battle swallowed his figure in another cloud of smoke.

  “Crap. I thought I had them that time.”

  “You should have used your plasma cannon,” Micah offered.

  “Easy for you to say. You’re already dead.”