Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series)

by Crystal Groszek

  Evan Elemental

  Book One

  Crystal Groszek

  Copyright 2013 Crystal Groszek

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  ~

  To my mother Carolyn and my grandma Colleen- You said I could do it, so I did. And to Patrick, my bright star.

  Acknowledgments

  I'd just like to thank all of you who have encouraged me (maybe even hounded me) and helped me along the way: PP, CG, CF, AA, SK, AP. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten this far.

  A Slow and Quiet Car Ride

  Hospital waiting rooms are never hopeful; the fluorescent lights, the sticky plastic chairs. There's always beeping, somewhere, in the deep hidden unknown, always footfalls that never come to relieve you.

  A hospital waiting room is where I come to find myself one Saturday night, wearing a yellow dress, the damp scent of spring rain clinging to my hair.

  My ears are clogged with the sounds of metal on metal on pavement. My eyes are blinded by red and blue flashing lights. The dress I wear is silk. It's rumpled from standing in the rain on the side of the road. I am unharmed. The blood caked on my bare knees is not my own.

  I cross and uncross my legs. Footfalls echo around me but nobody comes. The chaos of the emergency is swallowed up and cancelled out by the waiting room. A woman and her son come to wait, too. They watch me with wary faces. I must look bizarre in my party dress with my hair a mess and my eye makeup streaming in rivulets down my face. I'm crying, but I barely notice. Nobody comes to tell me what has happened, but I know.

  The crisp snap of heels sounds on the tile. I can smell her perfume from the hallway. The scent of exotic flowers cuts into the stale air.

  "Evan! Oh, my god. Why are you in here?"

  I turn my head to see my Aunt Lilian striding toward me. Her ever-confident demeanor still radiates off of her, but I can see a change in her eyes: a vulnerability that I have never seen there before. It confirms for me the hard desolate feeling that has blossomed in my soul.

  "I think they forgot about me," I say emotionlessly.

  Lilian's jaw trembles, another sign of weakness foreign to her face. She takes several breaths but doesn't speak. I stand, feeling the tenseness in my body for the first time. I ache all over and I can't tell if it's because of the accident or my nerves.

  Lilian pulls me into her arms, the scent of eucalyptus, coconut, and some tropical flower I never knew the name of, envelopes me. She murmurs things about how it will be okay and how we'll figure it out. I pull back and look at her.

  "So they are..." my voice breaks and I can't speak. Lilian's eyes go wide when she realizes nobody has actually told me.

  The disorganization seems to snap her back into herself. She lets go of me and raises her chin. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by steely resolve. I can tell it will be a look I'll come to know in the coming days, and not just from Lilian, but from everyone who will have to deal with me.

  Lilian explains that my mother and father have died as a result of injuries sustained in the automobile accident. No lie, she says it just like that. I feel a giggle rise up in my throat unbidden. I stifle it behind my hand. Lilian takes it for a sob and hugs me. She asks if I want to see them and I decline. It's not necessary, I'm not in denial.

  After making sure I have a thorough examination, Lilian takes me home. The house is silent but warm. Rain falls steadily, the sound making the house feel even cozier. Lilian goes around the house and turns all the lights on. She doesn't seem to stop moving, as if the motion will erase what has been done.

  "Are you hungry?" she asks stopping in front of me where I sit on the couch staring at my lap.

  "No. We were on our way back from dinner. I ate too much." My voice still sounds odd and emotionless. I wonder if I'll ever feel anything again. I fold and unfold my hands. My dress looks like it's ruined. "I think I'll just go to bed. I'm very tired."

  I manage a half smile before quickly leaving the room. My bedroom is colder than the rest of the house. I turn the dial on the thermostat until I hear the tiny buzz that heralds the oncoming of heat.

  With stiff limbs I peel off the dress and leave it in a damp, lemony heap on the floor. I consider taking a shower, but I don't want to wash the night off of me yet. The jasmine perfume I borrowed from my mother still clings to my skin. My hair has unraveled from its perfect curls and has returned to its former pin-straight glory, except frizzier. I pluck out the bobby pins that still hold it in place and let my hair tumble down past my shoulders. The ends tickle the bare skin on the middle of my back.

  There is still blood on my knees, but I ignore it and crawl into bed. I press my face into the coolness of my pillow. Red and blue lights flash behind my eyelids. The sound of metal on metal on pavement screams in my ears. I press my lips together and will myself to sleep.

  Chapter One

  On Sundays my mother always made breakfast. It was the only day of the week we sat together as a family and ate. Usually, I ate dinner with one parent or the other. That Saturday night had been an exception; we were celebrating.

  The morning after the accident, I wake to a silent house. No mom singing out of tune while trying, and usually failing, to make waffles. No dad standing outside my door reading the headlines from the Sunday Times in a loud, comical British accent until I get out of bed.

  The silence that greets me as my eyes flutter open is complete. My body still feels sore; my skin like one giant bruise. I sit up and throw off my blankets. The room is sweltering; I had cranked up the heat farther than I'd meant to. The yellow dress is gone from the floor and the door is slightly ajar, both signs that Lilian has been here.

  I turn off the noise in my head as best I can and focus on getting up and getting dressed. Sweat cakes my body and there is blood on my legs and some on my forearms that I hadn't noticed before. I hop out of bed and quickly shut the door. I peel off my bra and underwear, head into the bathroom off my room, and step into the shower.

  I turn the water up hotter than I can stand. When it hits my skin it feels like all of the tension I have been holding spills out of my body, leaving me feeling weak and trembling. The tears
come fast and hard, but I manage to choke down any sobs.

  After the short wave of emotion subsides I am more relaxed. I go to work scouring every inch of my body with a loofah, until my skin is bright red. The blistering hot water runs cold eventually and I snap the faucet off.

  I wrap myself in a thick pink towel and head to my closet, flinging the doors open wide. I stand there looking at my clothes, all of my things, for a long time before I realize that I've totally checked out. I glance at the clock: it's been twenty minutes since I got out of the shower. I've lost twenty minutes of time without noticing.

  I shake off the edgy feeling that has crept up on me and grab clothes at random, tossing an assortment of blouses and dresses on to my bed. From the pile, I choose a pink long-sleeved light wool dress. The only way I make it through the task is by concentrating only on getting dressed and shutting out all other thoughts. If I think, then I'll probably never leave this room.

  A pair of soft grey tights and ballet flats completes the ensemble. I stand in front of the mirror and arrange my hair into a shiny knot. The activity does little to quell the building numbness that has worked its way from deep inside of me, outward, until I can barely feel my limbs. It feels like I'm doing everything with someone else's body.

  I stop and let my arms fall to my sides. My reflection stares back at me, but I am unseeing. It has been less than twenty-four hours and in that short time my entire life has changed. I'm not the first girl to lose both of her parents, and I certainly won't be the last, but the pain is so great, so intense and complete, that it's difficult for me to believe that anyone could have ever lived through this before.

  I am alone in the world. Luckily, this is a feeling I've become comfortable with. For as long as I can remember, I've been a loner. It turns out that being pretty, smart, and well off doesn't matter very much when it comes to friends and popularity. You have to want it. You have to want participate, to be noticed, and I never have.

  As I stare at myself, dressed in clothes I bought because it made my mother happy, I can sense the hole inside of me; it eats at my grief and swallows it whole, until I'm left emptier than before. I ignore the blistering ache in my heart and head downstairs.

  Lilian is in the kitchen talking in a low voice on her cell phone. There’s an assortment of bagels and pastries laid out on the granite countertop. I pick at a danish, finding myself hungrier than I expected. I try to listen in on Lilian's conversation, but she's speaking too low. Every so often she casts a wary glance over her shoulder in my direction.

  I push the pastry aside and start to get up. Lilian turns around and raises a finger, signaling me to stay put. I shift uneasily and pick at my sleeve. I already know what she's going to say and I don't want to hear it. It isn't going to be okay, not really, but I'll make it. I want to tell her that, but the words rise and die in my throat in waves.

  After a minute, Lilian hangs up her phone and sits down on a stool at the breakfast bar. She motions for me to sit too. I hesitate before complying. We stare at each other for a full minute without saying anything. I fold my hands on the counter in front of me and square my shoulders. A flash of surprise crosses Lilian's face.

  "Evan..." She pauses as if I'm going to interrupt her. I don't, so she continues. "Evan, what happened was awful, beyond awful. You lost your parents. I lost my brother." She stops speaking; her eyes blink furiously, keeping the tears back just barely. I look down at my hands. My knuckles are white.

  "What I'm trying to say is..." She swallows hard, tears now falling freely down her face and pooling in small puddles on the countertop. "What I'm trying to say is that I honestly don't know what to say. Evan, I am so sorry." The last part comes out in a wet sob. I jump up, rush around the counter, and pull Lilian into my arms. I let her sob against me until she's quiet. My own tears are numb inside of me, but the pain is still raw.

  Lilian pulls back and wipes her face on the sleeve of her plum-colored cashmere sweater. She looks up at me with a guilty expression and opens her mouth to speak, probably to apologize.

  "Aunt Lily, please, it's okay," I reassure her. "You're allowed to be upset. You don't have to always keep it together. The world won't end just because you fall apart for a second."

  She gives a short, hollow laugh. "I was going to tell you the same thing."

  I give her what I hope is a brave smile and excuse myself. On the way back to my room, I stop at my mom and dad's shared office and grab a bottle of gin from the liquor cabinet. Once back in my room I lock the door and sit at my desk. I pour a generous glass from the clear blue bottle without bothering to mix it with anything.

  The first sip burns a little and has a pleasantly bitter aftertaste. I finish the glass and pour another. The sunlight burns bright and fades away as time passes. Lilian doesn't bother me once. The alcohol leaves me dizzy and exhausted. When I finally stand, my legs give out and I collapse on the bed, pressing my eyes shut. The room spins inside my head, but all is silent; no scraping metal, no flashing lights. Sleep comes on easy and dreamless.

  I have no idea what the days to come will bring and I need this cold dead sleep to begin to repair the newly broken things inside of me.

  Chapter Two

  The dead are full of surprises.

  We sit at a big, shiny oak table in big, shiny leather chairs. My parent's lawyer sits at one end and I at the other. Aunt Lilian is to my right; sunlight streams in through the window and catches in her hair bringing out the golden tones you wouldn't normally notice in her dark brown hair. There are a few other relatives scattered around the table or standing. Among them are my parents’ business partners and friends.

  I'm not surprised that there are so many people here for the reading of the will. Although they didn't really live like they were, my parents were wealthy. They had made a small fortune dealing in art and antiques. It was a family business that my father had inherited and made flourish.

  The attorney reads off bequeathments that mean nothing to me. My parents were buried just yesterday and the memory still haunts me. I zone out and wait for it to be over. Before too long people start leaving. I take that as my cue to leave too, and start to get up. Lilian puts her hand on my shoulder and motions for me to keep sitting.

  Everyone has left except for Aunt Lilian, the attorney, and me. I try to remember his name, but I can't. Something about the way they're looking at me has caused my mind to go blank. I can sense something hovering on the edges, but I can't make myself try to comprehend what it might be.

  The attorney clears his throat and launches into the details of my inheritance. I release the breath I've been unconsciously holding. It's not anything I wasn't expecting. It's horrible and surreal, yes, but it's expected, a routine part of the process. I've relied so much on the routine of things in the past week that anything unexpected would probably put me over the edge.

  The attorney clears his throat again, yanking me from my empty thoughts. I look up to see Aunt Lilian staring at me. Her eyes are wide and shining with fresh tears. I haven't been paying attention and I seem to have missed something.

  "Evan, do you understand?" The attorney, James Montrose is his name, I think, looks at me pointedly. He seems annoyed that I haven't responded. I glance at Aunt Lilian, hoping she'll take charge and speak for me. She just looks away, apparently too shocked by something to speak.

  "I'm sorry, but I think I'm missing something," I say weakly.

  I watch as Mr. Montrose barely suppresses an eye-roll. I remember my parents complaining about his lack of humanity from time to time, but he was always efficient and did his job well so they stuck with him.

  "Evan, your parents' will dictates that you will be placed in the care of your maternal grandmother, Magda Price, until you graduate from high school."

  I blink a few times, not comprehending. Lilian and I haven't spoken about it, but it was an unsaid understanding that I would stay with her. It's what I believed my parents would have wanted. I haven't seen my grandmother in more t
han ten years and I barely remember her. My mother rarely spoke about her, but I had the understanding that they didn't get along. In fact, I'm pretty sure my mother hated her.

  I expect myself to have some sort of meltdown, but I don't. I'm pissed, but I manage to keep calm. I figure it will work in my favor to behave rationally if I'm going to find some sort of clause or loophole that will get me out of that mess.

  "Mr. Montrose, I think there's been some misunderstanding. My parents wouldn't send me to live with someone who's basically a stranger. It makes more sense for me to stay with Lilian. I'll be eighteen in six months anyway."

  The man smiles and I'm reminded of a snake exposing its fangs. "Evan, I know you're familiar with your aunt, and maybe you would be more comfortable staying with her, but Ms. Price is a very wealthy, very well connected woman. She can afford you the kinds of opportunities that someone else might not be able to." He glances at Lilian when he says that last part. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to speak, most likely to ream his smug ass out completely. But, before she has the chance, Mr. Montrose continues.

  "Besides, it's a moot point. Your parents' will is very clear on the matter. Your aunt can contest the terms of the will, but it would be a waste of time and money. As I said before, Ms. Price is very wealthy. She's also very excited to have Evan come stay with her, and I doubt she would give up easily on the matter."

  Lilian just sits there without speaking. The swell of angry fire that rises up inside of me is quickly extinguished by the look on her face. If Lilian doesn't believe an argument can be won, then it can't.

  Mr. Montrose keeps droning on about the specifics, but what it comes down to is that I have about a week to pack my things and move to my grandmother's house in Upstate New York where I'll begin school in the fall. I'm excused from the remainder of the semester due to "extenuating circumstances." My teachers will give me the grades they expected I would have receive based on my performance up until now. I almost want to argue that I'm fine to go back to school until summer vacation, but the thought of having to explain over and over again what happened makes me sick.