by Arden, Mari
The corners of my mouth turn politely back, but it's hard to look at her without remembering our friendship in kindergarten. I know it's ridiculous to hold a grudge about something that happened when you were five, but Bree really hurt me. She always stayed sweet, but it was never the same. I recalled her reluctance to play, her bouts of ignoring me without meaning to, and forgetting important play dates. The strange thing was it didn't seem as if she wanted to forget me. It just sort of happened.
The same cycle happened to every friend I attempted to have. They were all nice, but they all shared something in common: they made me feel forgotten. Abandoned.
"You'll have to show him to me," Lenora announces. That's the opening the girls needed. Madison squeals, revealing she knows exactly where he is. Stalker much? She insists they ditch lunch to find him. The rest of the girls readily agree, and within moments a plan is devised to stake out the gorgeous football star destined for NFL glory.
I don't say much because it doesn't matter what I think. It only takes me five minutes to note that Lenora isn't immune to whatever I have. Her eyes go right through me to wave to some friends, and that's all the evidence I need. Standing up, I plan to leave quietly and head to the library, but my loud stomping alerts Lenora.
"Kenna? Hey! Where you going?" she asks.
"I've got some things I have to do at the library," I answer vaguely.
"No, stay," she stresses. "We have a plan! We're going to…" Her voice becomes mute in my head as she explains what they're going to do. I'd been there the whole time and heard every word of it, but I let her continue.
"No, that's ok," I say when she's done. "Important things at the library can't get done by themselves." I don't mention what the "important" things are, and she doesn't ask.
Instead, she gives me a perfect smile. Her eyes widen, and the purple spots in them seem to grow more intense. "Stay."
I stare at her, feeling a rippling sensation that I can't name.
Her pupils become enlarged, drawing me deeper.
My mind is literally swaying toward her, reaching out to take what it can. Strangely, I do feel an overwhelming urge to stay…
Clank! A loud crashing sound abruptly reverberates across the entire lunchroom, and I start, breaking my gaze away from Lenora. There's a second of frozen silence as everyone looks at each other, unsure of what just happened.
"Fight!" Someone suddenly shouts, breaking the tension.
Instantly, my eyes search for the cause of the commotion. Students are standing, staring at a spot across the room. Usually, I don't care about something as stupid as a fight, but something propels my body forward. I take a few steps toward a crowd slowly gathering.
"What the heck," Madison's squeaky voice comments from behind me. More students get up to see the commotion. I tip toe, stretching my five foot four inch frame as high as I can. Someone's in front of me though, and the top of my head barely reaches his neck.
"Is that… is that Rhys?" Bree suddenly asks, bewildered.
Lenora makes a soft sound, and then she's rapidly walking, brushing past me. Feeling a flare of uneasiness, I squeeze myself between bodies, rushing after her. People hear her coming because they make an aisle for her to pass by, still flashing looks of awe and curiosity. They aren't as courteous to me though, and I have to jab and poke my way through a few smelly bodies to catch up with her.
When we're near the cafeteria entrance, Lenora halts. I almost bump into her, but she uses her arm to catch me. There is a tray on the ground in front of me, and food is splattered over the glossy floor, like it'd been thrown down. Some guy is next to the mess, his shirt drenched with liquid. Despite his fake tan, a blush of shame or anger- maybe both- cover his face and neck. His mascara- laden eyes, are blinking rapidly, trying to control tears slowly forming. My eyes search and find Rhys standing less than two feet away. He's between him and another student. Rhys's stance is forceful, yet his hands are deceptively relaxed by his sides.
"This isn't your business, alien freak."
I recognize Carver's hard voice, and I can't help the rush of anger shooting through me as I stare at his hawkish face. He and I have been in the same class almost every year since kindergarten, and with each passing year his bullying worsened. Carver's wide shoulders, efficiently used for football the last four years, betray him, trembling slightly under Rhys's steady gaze. I can't help the smirk of satisfaction curling my lips. My eyes go back to Rhys, marveling at how secure he looks in the face of Carver's anger.
"He isn't your business, either," Rhys replies calmly back, referring to the guy still on the ground. I finally remember his name is Seth.
"That twink is spreading rumors and shit about me so it is my business." Carver moves closer to Rhys. "Get out of the way." Rhys looks at him for a moment longer, contemplating. I don't know what he's thinking, but I hold my breath, watching what he's going to do. To my utter disappointment, Rhys steps to the side. Carver rushes past him.
Hands curling, he mutters to Seth, trembling on the floor, "You trying to say I kissed you, you shit face? Kiss this." He raises his fist like he's going to hit him. Years of watching Carver bully other people flash before my eyes. Unable to control myself, I break away from Lenora's grasp and shoot forward. I never get to figure out what I might've done because Carver is suddenly pulled back. Quick as lightning, Rhys twists one of his arms behind him, arching his body forward.
"Only a coward hits someone when they're down," Rhys hisses. Roughly jerking him up, Rhys turns away from us, his broad back hiding Carver's struggling body. Using his foot, he kicks him, and Carver falls like a domino to the ground.
Dr. Bingham's loud footsteps alert me to his presence. He takes note of Carver and Seth on the ground, and Rhys standing less than a foot away from them. His lips thin in anger.
"What happened?"
No one answers. Finally, Carvers speaks. Spitting as he stands, he says, "A misunderstanding." It's clear Dr. Bingham doesn't believe him, and his eyes rest on Rhys with suspicion.
"I think it's sorted out now," Rhys answers in a low voice.
The two security men from yesterday arrive next.
Dr. Bingham looks between them. "I'll take these two down to the nurse. You can take him," he instructs, his fingers gesturing lightly toward Rhys. The pair nod, but don't motion Rhys over. It's clear they can't make him do something he doesn't want to do. Maybe they signed an agreement, or were told to handle the new aliens with care, but either way no one makes a move.
Rhys watches someone help Seth up.
Seth doesn't utter a single word, but I see him glance at Rhys's from the corner of his eye as he's standing. His eyes shine with curiosity, but they also shine with something else. Confusion. Gratitude. Admiration.
I wonder if my eyes shine that way right now, too.
Seth limps away.
When my gaze returns to Rhys, I feel a mixture of many things I can't deny. The vivid feelings swirl inside me like a typhoon, threatening to fill me with something I'm too afraid to name.
"Rhys." Lenora's voice is so soft I'm not sure if he hears it.
He walks over, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. The group of onlookers move, shifting to accommodate him. When he reaches us his gaze travels to me.
Sucking in a breath, I tense, feeling the vibrations of his gaze. I hear the pounding of my heart, and I want to say his name. Rhys the one person who can see me. The thought fills me with a strange yearning. For a moment we're trapped in each other's eyes. I can't think except to wonder what he's thinking.
Swallowing, I say, "Saving two people in one day. You're an alien hero. They should make a comic book about you." I'm babbling. I never babble. The feelings inside me are making me anxious.
A smile touches his lips. "What would they call me?"
I answer immediately. "Golden Eyes. You can beam to the rescue of any damsel in distress by blinking your eyes."
He laughs. People are staring. Rhys notices because he gestures to
the two security men. They come closer, locking us in.
"I can be your sidekick. Invisible woman. The bad guys won't notice me until I've already captured them. We can have a dog, too." I can't stop the words pouring from my mouth. I hear them in my head. I sound ridiculous. Where's the cool, confident girl from before? The one who'd actually flirted?
She's gone.
She's seen something wonderful, and she's gone into hiding. She's also talking in third person. Jeez, even my mind is babbling.
"The dog should be a golden retriever. It'll match the theme." Word vomit. I want to kick myself.
Rhys is staring at me. He comes closer so only I can hear him. "I can look at you all day, Kenna."
His whispered confession gives me goosebumps. Did he mean listen? I hope not. I'd take look over listen any day.
He sighs. "I should go."
Lenora nods. I don't trust myself to say another word. The two bodyguards follow him out.
In the silence, their footsteps echo like rain on pavement. My eyes remain on Rhys's back until he disappears through the doors.
I feel an unyielding urge to follow.
Chapter 8
I'm standing outside their bedroom door. I can hear them arguing inside. Guilt racks my conscience. My birthday party is expensive, but I want it anyway. I press my little ears to the door.
"… Already a month behind our electricity bill! Do you want them to shut it off again?" His voice is angrier than I've ever heard it. Mom answers, but her voice is soft like always. I wish I could hear it.
Suddenly time flashes forward, and the door is open, but I don't want to go in. It's my birthday, and I know what's inside. I recoil, but an invisible magnet pulls me forward. She's lying on the bed, perfectly still. Her motionless body is cold. I know it is because the room is chilly, and when I breathe I can see my breath like a white flower. I whimper, my lips trembling with fear even though I've already seen this image before.
"Mom," I whisper, but I don't expect an answer. When I'm close enough to peer into her face, I shut my eyes. The image appears in my mind anyway. Her wide hazel eyes unblinking, her face paler than the white sheets she's on. A solitaire rose plucked too soon; that's what she looked like in her nightgown.
Lightning flickers with a dizzying intensity, followed by thunder. The sounds echo in the dark room. I'm not afraid of storms, but something tells me this is no ordinary storm. Unease ripples through my body. Thunder booms again, and I feel the earth move. The ground cracks open, and I unclench my eyes in time to see my mother's body falling into the hole. I run to try to catch her, but it's no use and I fall after her. The gap is filled with light, and I'm dropping in a glow so strong that it burns me. Just as fast as it comes, the light is dimmed. I fall hard on my knees, and my skin is sliced open. I clutch my knees, wincing from the pain.
Thick gray walls surround either side of me, and the corridor I'm in stretches for a few feet more before a black door halts it. A small golden circle with diagonal lines running through it is red against the dark door.
A sharp scream pierces through the walls, and I jump back, instantly alert. The screams make the hair on my body stand straight. Goosebumps cover my skin when the third scream reverberating through the walls abruptly stops, like the person screaming has suddenly lost consciousness. I move back, wary, and frightened.
My eyes drift back to the black door in front of me. Curious, I want to open it, but another part of me is shrinking back, begging me to stay put. The decision is made for me when the door suddenly opens, and a robed figure strolls through. His black hood is long and deep, and nothing can be seen but shadows and hidden silhouettes. He pauses, and I know he can see me. Perhaps he even senses my fear.
He folds his hands in front of him, but it's nothing but fog and murky smoke.
"Kenna." The low voice echoes all around me, bouncing off the walls and into my eardrums where it stays in my mind, buzzing.
"Who are you?" I'm surprised that my voice doesn't crack. Even as I ask the question, I know the real question I should've asked was: what are you? Because I know he isn't human. His body drifts off the floor like a weightless cloud, and his voice sounds like thunder. Instead of answering, he floats higher up, until he looms above me like a malevolent spirit, which I'm sure he is. He lifts his hands, and a shudder passes through my body.
The iciness is back. It starts from underneath me, and it spreads around me like the flapping of a wing. Every second brings more cold, and it is engulfing the space around and inside me. I start coughing. With blinding clarity, I suddenly know what he is trying to do.
He is trying to choke me to death.
He doesn't touch me, but the iciness does, swirling around me like a chokehold. It wraps itself tighter around me, and I can't move. I'm literally frozen from the cold and from the invisible arms that are strangling me with an arctic bitterness.
Keep moving.
Instinct takes over, and I start squirming, thrashing my head in a wild dance, and attempting to find oxygen in an airless space. I curl my fist, and the scar on my finger is burning. I'm imagining the warmth of a fire, the heat of a blaze. It's so cold it's difficult to blink. The image of a perfect flame flickers in my mind. It's orange with swirls of red, and underneath the swirls are roots so intensely blue it reminds me of an ocean. I envision the flame in front of me, stretching to the ice, burning it with all the ferocity I feel. My head's pounding with the strain to hold the image, but I do it.
I see the fire building around me, licking away the cold and replacing it with sizzling warmth that gathers at my core. It grows hot. I look up. I picture the flame shooting straight through the demon, and abruptly it appears before me, as perfect as I have imagined it. It turns into a fiery arrow and with a cackle it shoots itself right through the middle of the demon.
He anticipates it, and he slides into the wall like the shadow that he is. The fire arrow continues to the black door and breaks into little pieces when it touches the door. He quickly appears again, closer, and harder. His laughter is loud in my head.
"Is that all you have?" he taunts. He lifts his hands again, and a twirling tornado spins out between his fingers, coming straight for me. I can't move, and when it finally touches me, it feels like it's sucking the life out of me, spinning and spinning, until it takes everything.
Something ancient and old is inside me, vibrating from the threat. It tells me to rise up, to stand as tall as a dragon. Magically the image is there: a hundred fireflies, glowing with orange and red embers. As my eyes strain the image attempts to come to life in front of me, but it's faint near the dizzying tornado. The cyclone is consuming the fire I'm attempting to make. His laughter continues in my head. The cold is winning again. The invisible smoke filled with arctic wind shakes all around me, cracking the firewall around me. It stabs at me, creating thick airless spaces wherever it touches.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a last burst of energy I imagine myself erupting from the icy hands holding me. I imagine my fireflies swarming around him, consuming him the way he had consumed me. Something is ripping inside my hand.
One moment I'm there, and the next I'm on fire.
Chapter 8
I'm standing outside their bedroom door. I can hear them arguing inside. Guilt racks my conscience. My birthday party is expensive, but I want it anyway. I press my little ears to the door.
"… Already a month behind our electricity bill! Do you want them to shut it off again?" His voice is angrier than I've ever heard it. Mom answers, but her voice is soft like always. I wish I could hear it.
Suddenly time flashes forward, and the door is open, but I don't want to go in. It's my birthday, and I know what's inside. I recoil, but an invisible magnet pulls me forward. She's lying on the bed, perfectly still. Her motionless body is cold. I know it is because the room is chilly, and when I breathe I can see my breath like a white flower. I whimper, my lips trembling with fear even though I've already seen this image before.
"Mom," I whisper, but I don't expect an answer. When I'm close enough to peer into her face, I shut my eyes. The image appears in my mind anyway. Her wide hazel eyes unblinking, her face paler than the white sheets she's on. A solitaire rose plucked too soon; that's what she looked like in her nightgown.
Lightning flickers with a dizzying intensity, followed by thunder. The sounds echo in the dark room. I'm not afraid of storms, but something tells me this is no ordinary storm. Unease ripples through my body. Thunder booms again, and I feel the earth move. The ground cracks open, and I unclench my eyes in time to see my mother's body falling into the hole. I run to try to catch her, but it's no use and I fall after her. The gap is filled with light, and I'm dropping in a glow so strong that it burns me. Just as fast as it comes, the light is dimmed. I fall hard on my knees, and my skin is sliced open. I clutch my knees, wincing from the pain.
Thick gray walls surround either side of me, and the corridor I'm in stretches for a few feet more before a black door halts it. A small golden circle with diagonal lines running through it is red against the dark door.
A sharp scream pierces through the walls, and I jump back, instantly alert. The screams make the hair on my body stand straight. Goosebumps cover my skin when the third scream reverberating through the walls abruptly stops, like the person screaming has suddenly lost consciousness. I move back, wary, and frightened.
My eyes drift back to the black door in front of me. Curious, I want to open it, but another part of me is shrinking back, begging me to stay put. The decision is made for me when the door suddenly opens, and a robed figure strolls through. His black hood is long and deep, and nothing can be seen but shadows and hidden silhouettes. He pauses, and I know he can see me. Perhaps he even senses my fear.
He folds his hands in front of him, but it's nothing but fog and murky smoke.
"Kenna." The low voice echoes all around me, bouncing off the walls and into my eardrums where it stays in my mind, buzzing.
"Who are you?" I'm surprised that my voice doesn't crack. Even as I ask the question, I know the real question I should've asked was: what are you? Because I know he isn't human. His body drifts off the floor like a weightless cloud, and his voice sounds like thunder. Instead of answering, he floats higher up, until he looms above me like a malevolent spirit, which I'm sure he is. He lifts his hands, and a shudder passes through my body.