When I’m right up on the door, I reach for the handle, but it won’t turn. It’s locked.
I curse and try to turn it again.
Nothing.
Where’s the key? I’m thinking this but have no clue where to look. I’ve never seen this door locked before. It’s always open, with towels neatly stacked or thrown at the floor beside it. But not today.
I have no idea where the key can be. Maybe in the office. The physical education office or the main office? I don’t know which one, and I don’t know how long they’ve had her locked in here. Krystal hasn’t said a word, hasn’t muttered a sound in answer to my repeated calling of her name. But I know she’s in there.
And that knowledge holds me still. It keeps me from running, screaming for help. I just focus on Krystal. Wondering if she’s afraid, if she’s all right. I can visualize holding the key in my hand and opening up the door.
The key.
To open the door, I need the key.
Where is the key?
My feet hit the floor and I open my eyes. I’m standing in the middle of the physical education office. Without another thought, I go right to the top desk drawer, pull it open and retrieve the large ring of keys.
It takes me another second or so to think about Krystal in that closet, and then I’m there, too. Putting the key into the lock, I turn it, then use my other hand to turn the knob and open the door.
“Are you okay?” I ask her even though I know she’s not.
Her chest is moving up and down rapidly as if she’d been the one running to get here. Her eyes are furious as she takes a step toward me.
While I know she’s angry, I don’t step back because why would she be angry with me? I’m the one who got the key and let her out.
“How did they do this to you? Why did they do this?” I’m asking her these questions even though I don’t really think she’ll answer.
“Get away from me,” she says.
Now I didn’t expect that.
“I just helped you out,” I say in defense as she pushes past me.
“But you’re the one who started all this in the first place.”
She doesn’t turn back to look at me, just keeps on walking away, heading out of the locker room.
“Wait a minute,” I yell. “How can you say I started this?”
“You and your rich friend!” she spits as she’s pushing through the door.
I follow, being quick to hold my hands out for the swinging door or else it would have knocked me down. “What? Wait a minute.” She doesn’t stop walking, but I do. “The least you can do is stop and give me an explanation for what you’re accusing me of.”
She does stop then, and she comes back to stand in front of me. “The least I can do? Is that what you said? The least you could do is stop fronting and be honest about how you feel. If you don’t like me, then just say so and be gone. I don’t have time for these petty games. And I certainly don’t have time for you smiling in my face one minute and planning my embarrassment the next.”
I shake my head from side to side, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “I never said I didn’t like you. You know we have a bond that goes way beyond liking each other. It goes beyond this school and these students. How can you stand there and accuse me of trying to embarrass you?”
“This isn’t about the Mystyx. It’s about you and me. You being a Richie and me being, whatever everybody thinks I am. You never wanted me and Franklin together and now you’ve got your wish. He’s with Alyssa. He’s with one of you.”
Her words hurt. As much as I want to dismiss her and her crappy attitude, her accusations are painful. Even if they aren’t true. “I’m not one of them,” I say quietly, and for the first time in my life, for the first time since I heard about this club and what my father was trying to do, the first time since I doubted whether or not I should go out with Antoine, I know those words are absolutely true.
I am not one of them.
I am Sasha Carrington, a fifteen-year-old sophomore at Settleman’s High. I am a Mystyx.
I am not a Richie.
I am not one of them.
“Yeah, well, I can’t tell,” Krystal says. “Look, just stay away from me, okay? I understand we have Mystyx business to handle and I’m not running away from my powers. But other than that, just stay out of my life.”
The last she says quietly, and for a second I think it hurts her to say it just as much as it hurts me to hear.
She turns and walks away.
I don’t try to stop her this time.
This time, I walk away, too.
nineteen
I slam the front door behind me, just like I’d slammed the car door when I got out. Mouse hadn’t said a word, but I’m almost positive someone in the house will.
I’m wrong.
There seems to be nobody around.
Or nobody in plain sight. I don’t even bother going into the kitchen to look for Casietta or upstairs to see if my mother’s home. They’re not who I want to see.
I head straight down the foyer, past the living room and den and library. At the far end of the house is where my father’s office is. I march right up to his door and almost barge right in. Then I decide to knock.
But I hear voices and change my mind about that, too.
My father is not alone.
There’s a man in the office with him. I can only hear the two voices but not completely. If I put my ear to the door I’ll be able to hear better. I don’t even consider it another minute, just lean over and do it.
“We can benefit each other, Marvin. If you put funding into my project, I’ll publicly endorse your club,” the first male voice says.
“Your project, what’s it called again?” That’s my dad.
The other man chuckles. “Let’s just call it Project S for now.”
“What’s it about? What are you trying to do with it?”
“I’ll just tell you that it’s big, Marvin. When I finish with this research, the stuff I’m going to unveil to the world will be staggering.”
“Staggering? That’s a tall order to fill. We’re not talking terrorism or anything, are we? Because I’m not in for that type of attention. I’m just trying to make my mark on Lincoln.”
The man laughs again. “You’re trying to make Lincoln yours and yours alone. I know what you’re planning, Marvin. And I’m not against it. But I’ve got goals of my own. Goals that Carrington money can help me reach.”
“Because the television station isn’t paying you enough to reach the goal, is that it?”
“That’s it exactly.”
I can hear some movement. Somebody’s walking around the room.
“This project isn’t going to hurt anyone, is it?” My dad asks.
“Only those who have the power to let it hurt them.”
At that moment, my side begins to warm again. I pull up my shirt and glance down. My M is glowing. Pink, just like before. But why now?
Wait a minute, did my dad just say something about the television station? Walter Bryant? Is that who’s in my dad’s office talking to him? And he’s talking about a project. A project that will only hurt those who have the power to let it hurt them.
The Power.
Those who have the power.
Oh, this is so not good. I’ve got to tell someone. I’ve got to tell the Mystyx.
I’m halfway down my driveway when my cell phone rings. Reaching into my back pocket where I stuck it after leaving my purse in the house, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, pretty girl. What’re you doing?”
It’s Antoine. And he’s like the last person I need to talk to right now.
“Ah, nothing. I mean, I can’t talk right now.”
“Cool,” he continues. “I was thinking we could hook up in like an hour or something. Maybe see a movie or just hang out?”
I’m walking while I’m talking, trying to figure out a way to get Antoine off this phon
e so I can move faster to get to the Mystyx. “Um, no. I can’t.”
Antoine grows silent on the other end. “You can’t or you don’t want to?”
I sigh and stop walking. “I can’t right now. I’ve got other plans.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet you do. Look, Sasha, I’ve had enough of this sneaking around. I asked you before if you wanted to be with me and you said you did. But now you’re acting all scared again.”
I roll my eyes, but that’s futile since he’s not here to see me. “No, Antoine, it’s not like that. I’ve just got something else to do.”
“Okay. What?”
I hesitate. I can’t tell him that I have to find my friends so we can find out what Walter Bryant’s researching. And I definitely can’t tell him that I’m deathly afraid that what Mr. Bryant’s researching is me, or my kind.
“Now is just not a good time, Antoine.”
“Right. Well, I don’t guess any time is ever going to be good for you.”
“Wait—” I start to say, but he’s already disconnected.
Sticking my phone back into my pocket, I vow to deal with him later. Now I’ve got to figure out who to go to first and get there as fast as I can.
I can’t go to Krystal.
She’s so mad at me, she’s not going to listen to a word I say, even though I don’t understand how I manage to be the bad guy in this scenario. But I’d just rather not go there with her right now. Besides, this is about Franklin’s dad and possibly Franklin, now that I really think about it. He has been hanging with Alyssa all of a sudden. Another reason why Krystal is definitely not the one to go to with this information.
I’m not calling Lindsey.
She’s still new to the group, and I’m not real sure where her head is with all this stuff. I mean, she seems like she’s down for what we are and what we may have to do. Other than that, I just don’t know anything about her. Like, she wasn’t in Lincoln last year or even last month for that matter. But she’s here now. Just as all this creepy mess has started, Lindsey arrives. And she lives with old Mrs. Hampton who has that big house almost near the end of the town line. I’ve wondered more than once what’s their relation or what’s it like living in that big old house. Once upon a time, I thought it was haunted.
Now I know the entire town is probably what’s haunted.
So I end up at Jake’s.
Kind of figured all along this is where I’d come. I’ve known Jake the longest. We have a history, so to speak. Ever since the first day of elementary school, I’ve seen Jake Monday through Friday and sometimes on weekends, depending on where we both were in town. But it wasn’t until last summer that we both noticed our connection was deeper than just classmates.
Lifting my arm to knock on his door seems like a ritual. I’ve done it so many times I don’t even realize it now as I wait for someone to come and open it.
“It’s you,” an old gravelly voice speaks the minute the door is cracked open.
“Hi, Mr. Kramer,” I say to Jake’s grandfather with a smile on my face. I like him a lot, even though he forgets who I am all the time.
“Thought you’d be coming around soon. Haven’t seen you for a while. But I told Jakey, she’ll be coming, you watch and see.”
He was talking and looking at me strangely with his gray eyes deep set into a face that was far more wrinkly than I think it should be. Mr. Kramer—or Pop Pop as Jake calls him—isn’t wearing his glasses today. Well, he’s not wearing them where they should be. On top of his mostly bald head, positioned in a lopsided way, are his black rimmed glasses. Still, the way he’s looking at me says he can see just fine.
“Ah, can I come in? Is Jake at home?”
“He’s here. Mad as a pit bull he is, too,” Mr. Kramer says but doesn’t budge from the door.
So I take a step forward, hoping this will serve as a sign that I want to come in.
“Pushy today, aren’t you,” he says with a slow grin spreading across his leathery skinned face. “That power’s growing mighty strong. I knew it would. I told them they couldn’t hold it back. Fools they are for thinking they could. Big, dumb-assed fools.”
Who is he talking about?
Mr. Kramer’s always talking, but only half of what he says makes sense and that’s only half the time he’s talking. I don’t know, but I think he’s making sense now.
“Who did you tell?” I ask, but then the door opens wider and Jake appears right next to his grandfather.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, his face still set with that angry glare.
I really hate seeing Jake like this. It looks almost as if he’s in pain. I want to make it better, but I don’t know how. “Hi,” I say quietly. “Can we talk?”
He really doesn’t look like he wants to agree.
“You need to be doing more than talking,” Mr. Kramer interrupts. “Acting is what’s needed. This has been coming for a long time. It’s been waiting to make its move. Now’s the time.”
“Go back inside, Pop Pop,” Jake says.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“William told me,” he says, then scratches his head like he’s trying to think of the next words to say. “He told me it was coming and that only you…your kind…can stop it. Says it’s a curse from hell coming back for revenge.” Mr. Kramer is quiet for a second, then his fingers grasp his glasses, and he pulls them down from his head. “There they are. Been looking for these for two days now. Can’t see Jeopardy without ’em.”
And just like that, he’s gone. Turning his back to me and walking away.
“Something’s happened,” I say before Jake has a chance to shut the door in my face. I was hoping he wouldn’t do that anyway, but right about now I’m not so sure about what Jake will or will not do.
He looks torn, like he really wants to walk away, and then he really wants to stay.
Finally he sighs, steps outside and closes the door behind him.
“What happened?”
“I overheard Franklin’s dad talking to my dad.”
He sits on the first step and looks back at me with a smirk. “About what, knocking down somebody else’s home to build a weather museum?”
I take a seat next to him, carefully considering whether or not to smack him in the back of his head for being so smart.
“No, about this project Mr. Bryant’s working on. A project that focuses on strange weather patterns and the excess energy they produce.”
Jake is quiet. I knew he would be.
“What do you think this means?”
I shrug, but he’s not looking at me, so I say, “I don’t know.”
We sit in silence.
“A curse from hell doesn’t exactly equate to our weather-related powers,” he says finally.
“No. But that voice warned me of a curse that she made. I’ve gotta figure ‘she’ was Styx, the goddess also known as the river. She was very powerful and she had a direct link to the Underworld.”
“Are you hearing yourself, Sasha? You’re talking about Greek goddesses and the Underworld, of all things. This is the twenty-first century. There are no gods and goddesses or Underworlds, for that matter.”
“There’s heaven and hell,” I say, as if he should have already known this answer. “Good and bad. Light and dark. No matter what time frame you put us in, there’s always been the same battle, the same basic issues to fight over.”
He leans back, resting his elbows on the concrete. His head falls back, and his scraggly hair shifts to the side. I have a clear view of his face, which isn’t normal. I notice that Jake’s a really nice looking guy. His dark brown eyes and wild brown hair give him a boyish cuteness. But the stern set of his chin and his tall, lean stature make him an attractive young man. Funny how I never really saw that before. He’s always been just Jake. I wonder if Krystal has noticed.
“Control,” he says. “That’s a basic issue. One side always wants complete control.”
“The bad, evil. The Darkness.”<
br />
He nods. “But how does Franklin’s dad figure into this?”
So I tell Jake what I’ve been noticing about Franklin and watch again as his face fills with rage. I touch a hand to his thigh this time because, man, I swear he looks like a volcano about to erupt.
“Jake, come on, you’ve got to get a hold on this.”
His fists clench at his sides. “I can’t. I mean, I’m trying. It’s not like your power, Sasha. Yours or Krystal’s. You both seem to have this passive power, this mentally rooted power that flows so seamlessly. Mine is so volatile. I don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“Like your great-uncle William,” I say, still rubbing my hand up and down Jake’s leg, noticing that with that action his face seems to loosen up, the tension ebbing slowly away from his body.
“I guess. He didn’t know how to handle it either. That’s why he ran away. I wish I knew where he was so I could ask him some questions.”
“He probably wouldn’t have the answers for you. I think we’re in charge of our own powers, even if someone before us had them, too. I think our powers are linked to us,” I say and use my other hand to tap on my chest. “To who we are and how we’re made up. Only we can control our power, Jake. Through our emotions, our thoughts, our actions. We have full control over what we do with our powers. I think that’s what makes us so dangerous to the Darkness. That’s why he’s coming after us.”
Jake takes a moment to think on what I’ve said. Then he sits straight up, looking at me seriously.
“What if Franklin’s possessed by the Darkness, the same way Mr. Lyle was? What if that evil is now inside Franklin?”
Following his line of thought, I say, “And what if Franklin’s father knows? If he knows about the Darkness, the weather patterns, the excess energy…then he knows about us. He knows about the Mystyx.”
“Probably not who we are exactly, but definitely that we exist,” Jake offers. “We’ve got to find out more about this project he’s working on,” he says, standing up.
“There’s only one way to do that,” I say. “We’ve got to get into his office to look at his files.”
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