Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles)

by Melissa Aden

  “Everett?” I slowly backed away from the counter, eyeing the items. He must have caught the tension in my voice, for he again looked to me with alarm. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me it’s a coincidence. I’ll allow that last night and this morning were coincidental, but not this.”

  “What?”

  “This! All this,” I yelled, pointing at the counter. My eyes searched his face for answers, finding none. “Don’t play dumb with me. There has to be a rational explanation. Did my dad give Brightman a list of all my favorite things or something?”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was.

  “Not that I know of,” he answered. “Besides the mint tea and Maddy’s soup, I randomly picked things. I mean, who doesn’t like those brownies? They’re awesome!”

  Once again, I was caught in a whirlwind of deciding whether to pursue this further or doubt myself. Everett made a good point. I wasn’t the only person in the world who liked all these items. But that was just the thing. All of these items were my favorites. I looked up to find him watching the internal dialogue playing out on my face.

  “Are we friends?” I asked, point blank.

  “Yeah.”

  “And friends don’t lie to each other, right?”

  “Never,” he answered.

  “So, as my friend, you promise you’re telling the truth?”

  “I’m sorry.” He paused a beat. “I did lie. Maddy used her gift to help me.”

  “You’re blaming this on Maddy?” I didn’t buy it.

  Mia bounded into the room. “Yo ho, mateys! I’ve hidden me plunder,” she said in a horrible pirate accent. “Ye done unpacking that there booty?” Her smile faded as she noticed our serious expressions.

  Everett answered in a lackluster tone, “Almost done, matey.”

  “Good, because I’ve got an idea!” Mia said, lighting up. “We should show Sophie that really cool bookstore in town.” She turned to me. “Would you like that?”

  “Sure,” I answered, my eyes fixed on Everett.

  “Great. I’ll grab my jacket,” Mia said, running back into her dorm.

  “Let it go,” Everett growled as soon as we were alone again. “Just be thankful I got you groceries.”

  “I don’t mean to harp on this, Everett, but Maddy made one of my favorite meals last night, then you magically appear this morning with my favorite breakfast. That’s enough to raise suspicion, but then, you arrive with two heaping bags full of my favorite foods.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. I sound crazy, but it’s more than a little weird.”

  “Will you get over yourself?” He turned to me, fuming. “As your friend, I was trying to do something nice for you, but I’m starting to regret it. You’re totally ungrateful.”

  I reeled from his outburst, realizing he was right. “I’m so sorry.” Everett frowned in disbelief making me laugh. “Thank you for thinking of me and for bringing all this food. It was very nice of you.”

  “Oh. Well… yeah. You’re welcome,” he mumbled, turning to finish loading the refrigerator as if nothing had happened.

  “Ready to go?” Mia asked, walking back into my dorm.

  “Yup,” I said. Catching Mia staring at my shirt, I remembered I still sported a giant tea stain. “After I change my clothes.”

  Chapter 14

  Domino Effect

  I had dreaded the first day of school all summer. Sitting towards the front of the classroom had proved to be a big mistake, the back row being a far more inconspicuous place for a said killer.

  I had accepted it would be a hard day, but never expected other students would do nothing to ease the strain. Staring at the open book in front of me, I acted like I didn’t notice their whispers or the way they eyed me like vultures, hungry for the truth behind my brother’s supposed demise. Their insensitivity shocked me. I wanted to scream, “I’m right here! I can hear you,” but knew this would only add to their case for my insanity.

  The increasingly ridiculous stories of what happened to Benson had become a sick form of entertainment for me, the fake versions far juicier than the truth. Some thought Benson broke the law or got a girl pregnant before being shipped to military school. Others reasoned that he ran away, and others still that he was dead — always implicating me as his murderer. In fact, my favorite stories were the ones that involved me: I was jealous of my twin. We were rivals, so I set him up to take the fall for a crazy, unforgivable crime. I contracted a terminal illness and Benson donated a necessary body part to keep me alive, forfeiting his life in the process. Though, my least favorite story was the most prevalent: We fought over the same girl, and, after discovering that she liked Benson more, I did what any well-adjusted teenager would do. I killed him. This infuriated me. I could never — would never — kill Benson, and of all things, over a girl!

  The pencil between my fingers snapped in two, pulling me into the present. I looked around, catching eyes that failed to look away in time.

  I had to give them some credit. They weren’t as stupid as they looked. During our time at Brightman, Benson and I hid under the guise of athletic gods, allowing people to file us under the ideological box of “jock.” Though, we knew this would only appease students’ suspicions for so long. They realized we were different somehow, that we were special. Though, many thought the buck stopped short of us simply being close to Dr. Smitherson and having celebrated benefactors for parents. They didn’t realize this was only the beginning.

  Like many at Brightman — Dr. Smitherson, Maddy, Mia and some teachers — Benson and I worked for PORTAL, the Paranormal Research Taskforce and Anti-Warfare League, an agency established to monitor demonic activity on Earth, especially through portals from other realms. Since students didn’t know our true identities, or even our true personalities, they also didn’t know our bond as brothers, or more so, as twins. They didn’t know that I’d do anything for my brother, including sacrificing my life for his. They didn’t know that I’d almost had to a few times, explaining why the majority believed I was responsible for Benson’s disappearance.

  It was hard not to think poorly of Brightman students — not to see them as sniveling idiots with rich daddies and mommies who paid for them to stay far, far away. Their lack of creativity disgusted me, as well as their voracious appetite for such pathetic falsities. Though, I was being harsh, offensive, and unfair. But screw fair! It wasn’t fair that they favored Benson as the victim, even though he was twice my size and covered in pure muscle. But again, they only knew what we’d wanted them to perceive: Benson — or as they knew him, Benjamin — as the sociable one with a heart of gold, so as not to scare people with his hulking appearance, and me as the approachable yet still untouchable one, allowing me to be disconnected with Brightman social circles and more deeply involved with dealings at PORTAL.

  With a heavy sigh, I dismissed my resentment, knowing students would be happier with their half-cooked, half-witted stories than the truth about the world they lived in.

  “Good morning, class. Welcome to Geometric Algebra in Physics. My name is Dr. Trivedi,” an older Indian man addressed the class with a thick accent. Writing his name on the white board, he made the “Dr.” significantly starker than the “Trivedi.”

  His expensive suit and tie and the small spectacles perched on the tip of his nose made it clear he was trying to impress. He looked far dressier than expected for a reclusive physics mastermind from MIT. Though, his unkempt salt and pepper hair betrayed the fact that he wasn’t accustomed to dressing in this manner.

  “I trust everyone brought a notebook and writing utensil. You will need them. Now, if someone will dim the lights, please? Let us begin,” he said.

  I threw my broken pencil into my book bag, grabbed a pen, and pretended to jot down notes from the projection illuminated on the screen at the front of the room. This was bound to be a delightful class as the teacher’s idea of “teaching” was probably lecturing for hours on end.
Oh, joy! Couldn’t wait.

  The door at the front of the room opened then, spilling light into the dim room. A frazzled, out of breath girl stepped in. Dr. Trivedi paused long enough to shoot her a reproving glare before droning on.

  As the girl approached, I recognized her. It’s Sophie! But she doesn’t have this class! Though, I didn’t mind she was here. I had tried to convince Sal and Dr. Smitherson to assign Sophie and me the same class schedule to better protect her, but they rejected the idea saying it would look too suspicious. Yet they never said she couldn’t change her schedule to enroll in more of my classes. I was glad I’d planted the seed of an idea in her head over the past couple of days. I felt uneasy when she was out of my sight and having her in this class would be a nice distraction from Dr. Trivedi’s lectures, especially since I’d already read the entire text book this morning.

  Conveniently, there was an empty desk next to me. In fact, every desk around me was empty. I waved at Sophie and her face lit up. She quickly scurried over before plopping down beside me.

  “Hi!” she breathed, rummaging through her book bag. “No, no, no!”

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

  “I forgot to put the new package of pens I bought at the bookstore on Saturday in my bag.”

  The problem was easily remedied. “Here. Keep it,” I said, holding my pen out to her.

  “Oh! Thank you so much! You’re a total life saver.”

  I laughed at the irony of her comment. She had no idea.

  She looked especially pretty in a white, long sleeved shirt and a denim skirt. Her hair wasn’t in its usual braid, instead falling freely down her back in dark waves. As always, she looked simple yet lovely, except for the knee-length, sky high boots she wore.

  “Nice boots,” I said.

  She glanced down and laughed. “Thanks. I’m not so sure about them, but Mia insisted.”

  “Ah, Mia!” I nodded. I was sure she was thrilled to have a pretty girl like Sophie to play dress up with.

  My mind wandered over the past two days. After almost blowing my cover by picking all of Sophie’s favorite foods from the kitchen cupboards — was that ever a close one — Mia and I spent Saturday showing Sophie around Annandale. Then on Sunday, I joined her for orientation, where we spent more time making origami animals than listening to the instructor, before meeting Mia for lunch. Sophie was delightful and the perfect complement to Mia and me. If only Benson had been with us, it would have been the perfect weekend.

  “I’m glad we have a class together,” Sophie whispered.

  “Me too,” I smiled. “I didn’t know you had this class.”

  “I just registered for it this morning,” she explained. “I wanted to take something more challenging than the Intro to Physics class my dad enrolled me in.” She paused. “Wow. That sounded really geeky. Anyway, we should be study partners. It will be a good excuse to hang out more.”

  A rush went through me. Had I heard correctly? She was looking for excuses to be around me more? But was it in the way I wanted?

  “You’re not a geek, Sophie. You’re intelligent. There’s a difference,” I corrected.

  “How so?”

  She’d been transparent so I felt it only fair I do the same, though it was a struggle. “The latter is… attractive.”

  “Oh!” Even in the diffused light of the room I could make out the deep flush of her cheeks.

  Dr. Trivedi cleared his throat loudly. It was only then that I noticed he’d stopped lecturing and was staring our way. “Miss… ” he paused, searching for her name.

  “Sophie Cohen,” she answered, blushing deeper.

  I hoped Dr. Trivedi didn’t plan on embarrassing her, but knew it was common for teachers — especially new ones with something to prove — to make examples of students to set the tone for the rest of the year.

  “As I trust you are not familiar with the information at hand, I would think you’d find it pertinent to listen,” Dr. Trivedi said.

  “I’m very sorry, sir,” Sophie nodded. “Though, I’m quite familiar with the curriculum,” she beamed, obviously excited. “My father—”

  “Well, then being that you are so well read, Miss Cohen,” Dr. Trivedi cut her off, “I take it you can readily share who first constructed a locally conserved energy-momentum complex.”

  I rolled my eyes, thinking, here we go. Since I had just read the book, I was getting ready to whisper the answer when Sophie spoke up.

  “Albert Einstein,” she answered.

  A disconcerted look crossed Dr. Trivedi’s face. He pursed his lips before smiling greedily. “And what, Miss Cohen, is energy-momentum complex?”

  “Energy-momentum complex is… ” She paused to think causing Dr. Trivedi’s eyes to light up. “… .the sum of the energy-momentum of matter and an appropriate pseudo-tensor.” Dr. Trivedi’s mouth fell open in shock. He looked completely befuddled. “Is that not correct?” Sophie asked, confused by his reaction.

  “Oh… umm… yes, Miss Cohen. You are correct. Moving on...” Dr. Trivedi mumbled, his superior spirit defeated.

  I stifled my laughter. “You totally schooled him,” I whispered. “How did you know that?” I only knew the answer because I had a photographic memory and could speed read, memorizing anything in seconds. I suspected she knew because of her dad.

  “My dad,” she whispered. “As I was about to tell Dr. Trivedi, I used to sit through similar courses when Dad worked at Cambridge. I was stunned to find a high school course on it here.”

  “Yeah, Brightman Academy isn’t your average high school. Dr. Trivedi hails from MIT.”

  “I thought so! His name sounded familiar. I wonder if he worked with my dad when he taught his summer course there.”

  I liked this girl. So much.

  Over the rest of the period, I watched Sophie out of the corner of my eye as she diligently took notes on Dr. Trivedi’s review of Geometric Algebra’s application to classical mechanics and quantum electrodynamics, as well as multi-particle quantum mechanics and quantum information, and how this would translate into learning Geometric Algebra’s application to Mathematical Physics over the coming semester. The thought of it made my head hurt, explaining my gratitude when the bell signaled the period’s end.

  “What class do you have next?” Sophie asked, packing her things.

  “AP Spanish with Mrs. Martinez.” I was fluent in English, Spanish, French, German, Cantonese, and Japanese, so the class would be a breeze.

  “Oh. I have Advanced Literature.”

  “What do you have after that?” I asked. If she hadn’t changed her class schedule any more, she had P.E. and then lunch.

  “I have P.E. with Mr. Marsh,” she answered. “I think I have lunch after that. What about you?”

  “Advanced Chemistry with Mr. Weiss and then lunch.”

  “I’m glad we have the same lunch period. Will you sit with me?” she asked.

  “Sure. Mia has lunch during fourth period too. We can all sit together.” I immediately regretted the comment wondering if it gave the impression that I liked being in the friend zone. The dynamics between us were getting tricky fast.

  We merged into the overcrowded hall. Students were everywhere, frantically scurrying to their next destination.

  “Do you know where Mrs. Allen’s classroom is?” Sophie asked, staring at a campus map.

  “Follow me,” I said, setting off. “It’s right by my Spanish class.”

  I made my way through the crowded hallway, ever so often looking to make sure Sophie was still behind me. Seeing she was getting knocked about, I grabbed her hand, pulling her along. Reaching a staircase, I let her go ahead of me. We were progressing fine until she stopped. Noticing, I abruptly halted causing the guy behind me to face plant into my backpack. Like a domino effect, people down the stairs careened into each other one by one.

  “Sophie?” I asked, partly irritated and partly concerned. I looked at her and noticed she had the same blank expression as with H
agen a couple days before. Sure enough, I followed her gaze to find Hagen descending the stairs, his eyes locked with Sophie’s. My stomach tightened. “You’ve got to keep moving, Sophie.” I nudged her.

  Without a word, she began climbing the steps, though mindlessly, like a zombie, her eyes still on Hagen, who stared back at her with a funny smirk.

  Then Sophie fell.

  Chapter 15

  R.I.C.E.

  It happened so fast I didn’t have time to catch Sophie. She missed a step and stumbled forward, slamming hard into the marble stairs, her heavy book bag going down on top of her. I reflexively reached down around her waist and lifted her up. She was back on her feet so quickly that I doubted anyone saw she’d fallen.

  “Nice job! I give it a ten,” Hagen said loudly, laughing as he passed.

  Okay, except for Hagen. And how thoughtful of him to announce it. I swore at him under my breath, shooting him a look I hoped communicated, “You’re not welcome here, scum bag. Leave and never come back!”

  Half-carrying-half-dragging Sophie up the stairs, I found a bench to set her on. “Are you okay?” I crouched and peered up at her face. I knew I was supposed to be guarding her from the enemy’s attack, but I never foresaw having to save her from herself. Chin quivering, she stared at her hands in her lap with a mortified look. “Talk to me,” I pleaded, swiping her hair from her face. “You fell pretty hard. Does anything hurt?”

  “My knee, my arm, my side… and my pride,” she answered, tears pooling in her eyes.

  “At least your sense of humor is in tact.” She glanced at me before focusing on her hands again. “It’s these stupid boots you’re wearing,” I said, unzipping one and taking it off. Looking around to make sure the hall had cleared, I handed her the boot. “Here. Throw it.”

  “What?”

  “It will make you feel better.”