Spark

by Rachael Craw

  I sniff the air but don’t detect the chemical scent that I associate with the Stray, just school gym smells: liniment, industrial floor wax, feet and a pervading musty damp. It doesn’t ease my mind. Kitty seems too conspicuous in her foam neck support. I hate the idea of her being sized up as an easy target. But she’s been cleared for moderate exercise, and I have no intention of talking her into sitting the class out. I’d spend the whole time worrying about her waiting on the bleachers without me.

  “You must work out a lot, huh?” Imogen whispers next to me, crossing soft arms over her concave chest.

  I blush. “Um, I guess.”

  “I guess?” Lila says. “You’re cut. What do you do, circuit training?”

  I shrug, pretending to listen to Mrs Jenner explain volleyball rules.

  “You and Jamie work out together?” Lila nods, a slow insinuating up and down swing of her head. “All sweaty and intense.”

  “Please stop,” Kitty mutters. “I’ll have to scrub my brain out with steel wool.”

  Mrs Jenner blows her whistle again and we begin orbiting the gym floor in jogging pairs. My body responds greedily to the physical activity, but I hate the feeling of people running behind us.

  “Hello again.” Richard. He bumps his way between Kitty and me to a chorus of encouragement from his friends. I tense, pins and needles zip-zapping at the unwanted physical contact and the way he separates Kitty from me. I scowl, but Richard acts like he doesn’t notice. “Isn’t this nice? Gym together.”

  Kitty keeps her eyes forward, not altering her pace.

  “We’ll have to compare schedules,” he says.

  “Good idea,” Kitty says. “Then I’ll know what class changes I need to submit at the office.”

  “I was talking to Evangeline.”

  “She has a boyfriend,” Kitty says, giving him a disdainful look.

  “She does.” Jamie jogs up beside me, cutting Richard off.

  Richard rolls his eyes. “Trust the Skipper to hit the ground running.”

  I flush with embarrassment, but can’t decide what makes me so uncomfortable. Is it the public outing of my relationship status? The idea is ridiculous; I’m not ashamed to be Jamie’s girlfriend. It’s just the Richard factor and the feeling that something private has been handed over for public scorn.

  When Mrs Jenner calls us to order again she divides us into teams and we spread out around the courts. Jamie, Abe and Gil are next to us with three giddy-looking girls. Kitty, Lila, Imogen and I have the grinning blond boy and his friend.

  “Angelo.” He flicks his hair back from his green eyes as introduction. “You’re new, right?”

  “Yeah.” My attention shifts to the team gathering on the opposite side of our net. “Ugh.”

  Angelo looks over his shoulder at Richard and his entourage. “Not a fan?”

  “No.”

  Angelo chuckles then ducks suddenly as his friend throws the ball and he just manages to catch it. Kitty, Lila and Imogen gather beside me.

  “Could we file a complaint?” Lila whispers. “If Kaylee won’t.”

  Kitty filled them in on the morning’s drama with expertly timed whispers during math. She crosses her arms. “She’s made it clear she doesn’t want the police involved.”

  “He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it,” I growl, but I need to cool the mercury on my injustice meter before I end up doing something stupid. Truth is, I can’t separate my disgust from my fear that he might be worse than a rapist, or attempted rapist, or whatever, the details are unclear. But as far as sickos are concerned, at least a Stray has no choice – a victim of random selection (not that it makes any difference to me; God willing, I plan to put him down like a rabid dog) – but Richard with all that dissipated free will …

  Angelo leans beside me with the ball. “Wanna serve?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll take the net.”

  The others spread out into position. Richard meets me at the center line, hooking his fingers in the crisscrossed nylon. “Destiny keeps throwing us together.”

  I’m at zero tolerance for bullshit. “Is there a name for your problem?”

  “Don’t be like that, Ev-an-ge-line. If you got to know me, you’d like me.”

  “Not what I heard.”

  He keeps his expression even but withdraws his fingers. “There are sad, deluded people in the world who’ll say all kinds of things to pull a guy down. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  Laughter comes from the court next to us. We both look. Abe and Gil are showing off in front of the girls on their team. Jamie has crouched down to tighten a shoelace, his T-shirt lifting a few inches above the line of his shorts. I freeze. The whole band of revealed skin is covered in coloured ink and, just as shocking, there are three ragged scars disappearing up under his shirt, like someone has attacked him with a pitchfork.

  “Wow.” Richard turns to face me at the net, open mouthed and gleeful. “How long are your nails?”

  I glare, hoping to hide how shaken I feel.

  Why hadn’t Jamie told me?

  The student ref blows her whistle.

  You only got together last night.

  Richard’s team wins the toss.

  Why should Jamie tell you anything?

  They serve.

  But … scars?

  The ball flies back and forth, but my mind still reels and I barely engage until Kitty calls for the ball. I tune in to watch as Angelo sets an easy spike for her. She leaps, lifting her arm to hammer it home when Richard shoots up in front of her, barging her back from the net.

  Electricity erupts in my spine.

  I dart forwards, almost too quickly, to steady her landing. “She has a neck injury, you asshole!”

  “Yeah, asshole!” Lila chimes in.

  Kitty shakes it off, blushing. “Let it go, you guys.”

  Richard pouts. “Sorry, Kitty-Cat.”

  Break his nose.

  Thunder crashes in my ears.

  Break his nose.

  Everything becomes razor sharp and painful to look at.

  Break his nose.

  Richard comes close to the net and taps his finger to his lips as the rally resumes, his eyes moving over me. “Just thinking about those scars. Should you ever find the Skipper isn’t cutting it, I like it rough.” He winks and blows me a kiss, a waft of sour breath.

  Break his nose. Now.

  “Sorry, Dick. Not without a mint.” I spring upwards, intercepting the ball in its trajectory to drive it, full force, into Richard’s upturned face. A delectable crunch, the punch of burst rubber, a shock of red spatters my shirt.

  I land euphoric.

  Kitty’s eyes bug out.

  Richard howls, hands to his face, writhing, swearing, blood everywhere.

  His friends crowd in, and I adjust my expression.

  “Whoa! You killed it.” Angelo picks up the split ball that has rebounded onto our side and laughs. “Please marry me.”

  “Jeez, Evie.” Lila grins. “I’d marry you after that.”

  Kitty squeezes my arm. “Here comes the law.”

  “What on earth?” Mrs Jenner rounds on us.

  There’s an upsurge in noise as Richard’s friends hurl accusations and my team responds in loud defence.

  Jamie appears beside me, brow corrugated. “What happened?”

  “Um, he wasn’t ready,” I stutter. “The ball hit him in the face.”

  Jamie glances at the split ball in Angelo’s hands but doesn’t say anything, and I look away.

  After several minutes of pointless debate, Mrs Jenner rules it was an accident, and instructs Richard’s friends to take him to the nurse. He shuffles to the exit, cupping his nose, his parting scowl a black promise.

  CONFESSION

  Barb waits on the front steps, hugging her waist, a petite figure, stock still. Probably, she’s been counting the seconds until we appeared. She lifts her arm, waving as we pull up the long curve of the driveway then darts back
into the house, no doubt to alert Leonard and Miriam – we’re home and Kitty lives.

  “Brace yourselves,” Kitty mutters from the front seat.

  We drove home with only the radio filling the silence; the three of us lost in our thoughts. What would Miriam say about my gym exploits? The story spread like an airborne virus through the school, racing ahead of me from class to common room to cafeteria: mutating, expanding, accomplishing the total inverse of my hopes for the day. Now I could look forward to nothing but stares, whispers, or worse – high fives and congratulations for the rest of the semester and only myself to thank for the infamy.

  Barb and Leonard rush out into the courtyard, where Jamie parks the car, crossing to meet us as we get out. Barb wraps her arms around Kitty, their honey blonde heads the same height. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she says, a tremble in her voice. Even Leonard looks uncommonly pale. He hugs his wife and daughter together, staring over them at me, searching my face for signs that I may have identified the Stray.

  I wipe the worry from my face and shake my head. He closes his eyes, probably as relieved and frustrated as I feel.

  “I’m not sure this is very good for my neck,” Kitty says.

  Leonard chuckles and they go inside, a happy tangle of limbs.

  Miriam waits on the back step. I can tell she wants to hug me, but she restrains herself. I’m grateful for her restraint and ashamed of feeling grateful. Of course I want everything to go back to normal. I miss her; I miss the mom-replacement comfort only Miriam can give me, but the block in my mind still holds her to account. Jamie nudges me with his elbow, and I force myself to move towards her.

  “Hey,” she says. “Survived the day?”

  I lift my shoulders, a noncommittal shrug, and we trail down the back hall, joining the rest of the Gallaghers in the kitchen. The warm sugary smell of freshly baked cookies fills the air. Jamie and I groan in unison, dump our bags and go straight for the buttery stack cooling on the stove top. We both take cookies in each hand and stuff our mouths, slumping back against the counter, moaning. Barb smiles and sniffs, still teary in her relief. “Thought you two might be hungry,” she says.

  Kitty extracts herself from her mother to join us at the cookie pile.

  “How did you go, Evie?” Leonard pours mugs of coffee. “First day in a new school can be overwhelming, let alone Gainsborough.”

  “She was great.” Kitty’s a generous liar.

  I swallow the last of my oat and raisin; it goes down like a jagged plug. “I was awful.”

  “You were fine,” Jamie says.

  Miriam cringes. “You break something?”

  My tally on crushed door handles at the Gallaghers’ place was up around seven or eight.

  “Just a guy’s nose.”

  She and Leonard draw air through their teeth and Barb’s hand goes to her mouth. Their worried eyes all flick to Kitty.

  “I was fine.” Kitty sits on the table, her feet on the seat in front of her. “It was only Richard Dean. Now everybody loves her – except Dick.”

  Jamie remains diplomatically silent, going to the fridge, emerging with three sodas. He tosses a can to me and his sister, and hitches himself up on the counter.

  “Dean?” Leonard’s eyebrows shoot up behind his glasses. “As in, Governor Dean’s son?” He turns to Jamie. Jamie nods and I feel his silence.

  “It was brilliant,” Kitty says.

  Miriam sits and rubs her forehead. “How and how bad?”

  “Gym,” Kitty says. “Split the volleyball on impact.”

  More gasps from Miriam and Leonard.

  “Evie’s not in trouble though,” Kitty says.

  Leonard scoffs. “You’ve met Richard’s father?”

  “What’s the governor going to do?” She throws her hands up. “It was an accident.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I mutter. Everyone stalls, coffee mugs halfway to mouths, cookies crumbling in the silence. “I’m going to lie down.” I pick up my pack and slouch towards the door, setting my unopened soda on the counter beside Jamie, not looking at him, not looking at anyone.

  I must have dozed off because when the bed shifts under me, I open my eyes on dim lamplight. Jamie lies on his stomach next to me, arms crossed beneath his head.

  “Hey,” I croak. A half second later, I jerk my head up. We’re on my bed, alone. I look to the closed door, my ears straining for footsteps in the hall. “Where’s Miriam?”

  “She’s about to leave to do some work in the studio and feed the cat. Said she’ll be here tonight. She wanted to see you, but I talked her down.”

  “Thanks.” Again, the relief and the guilt. “Your folks know you’re in here?”

  He curbs his grin. “I told them I would check on you.”

  I reach into the bandwidth for Kitty’s signal. Reflex.

  “She’s in the study.”

  I could have picked her location without Jamie telling me, simply by the quality of the pulse, and I wonder how much being near him improves my sensitivity.

  “You’ve got bed face.” Jamie brushes his fingers over the imprint on my cheek.

  My whole body tingles. “Aren’t you going to tell me off?”

  He rises up on his elbows. “For?”

  “Didn’t I break the superhero code?”

  “Which code might that be?”

  I bury my face. “The one about using your powers for good and not evil.”

  The bed moves. His breath warms my ear. “The majority would say you were using your powers for good.”

  I look up. “Then why the thin lip all afternoon?”

  He turns onto his side, exhaling. “I don’t trust Richard. And not only as a suspect. I mean, at all, as a human being. He’s a pig. I don’t like the idea of him anywhere near you. Not because I don’t think you can take care of yourself – obviously, you could snap him like a twig – but you’re my girlfriend and he’s a …” He brings his teeth together. “And now you’re in his head, and I don’t like the idea of what he might be doing to you in there.”

  Wow.

  “That’s quite nice. Except the bit about what Richard might be doing to me in his head.”

  His expression darkens. “Was there something in the bandwidth that made you read him as a threat?”

  “I’m not sure. There was a lot of static. He’s high on my suspect list, but I couldn’t tell if I was reacting to a real threat or if he just pissed me off.” I shake my head. “I lost it pretty bad.”

  “It’s hard at the beginning. You’re paranoid. You’ve got all this adrenaline in your body. You’re wired to protect. He did barge Kitty. It’s an accomplishment you left him able to walk.” Jamie touches his finger to my brow and traces my frown until it smoothes away, thrilling me again with the novelty of his touch.

  I tease my lip and toy with courage. “Why didn’t you tell me about your back?”

  He sighs. “It never came up. What would I say, ‘want to see something horrible?’”

  “It’s not horrible.” I shoot up on my elbow. “I mean, it’s horrible that you were hurt, of course–” I wish I had kept my mouth shut. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  He looks up at me from beneath long dark lashes, making me ache with his symmetry and shadows. “It’s from my first. I fought the Stray in Uncle Jeremy’s stables.” He mouths the illegal term. “He threw me into a stall. The horse spooked, kicked me and a pitchfork did the rest. My Spark died.”

  My heart thuds like it’s descending steep, erratically placed steps. “Jamie. I’m so sorry.” I want to touch him but initiating contact still feels … audacious.

  “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want it to mess with your head.”

  “I need to be prepared.”

  “Hearing my horror stories won’t help.”

  “Couldn’t be worse than my imagination.”

  “When this is over, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But right now your mindset is just as important as
your physical training.”

  “It’s never been done.”

  “I believe in you, Everton.” And there’s the same conviction in his voice as this morning. “And I’m only too willing to play my part.” He leans over and brushes his lips on my cheekbone, sending blissful currents down through my neck, my chest. “Get that frequency nice and strong.”

  I have so many questions, but Jamie makes it impossible to concentrate: looking at me, reaching for me, scooping me effortlessly against his body, grazing his lips over mine. He kisses like the gifted and talented, like someone light years ahead of the class, advanced placement lip science, up-skilling me with each undulating swivel of his head.

  I can only hope his flair comes from natural sensitivity because if it comes from screes of experience, my new jealousy might burn the world down. I draw back to find some air. “I was right, you know? You draw attention. People look at you. Girls look at you. A lot of girls.”

  He frowns. “People probably don’t know who I am. I’ve been away.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. You can’t really be oblivious.”

  “Can we not talk about this?” Then his whole face changes and he narrows his eyes. “Unless of course it made you jealous?”

  “No. That’s not – I noticed, is all.”

  He snorts and rests his forehead against mine. “Jealousy is a Synergist thing.”

  I try to look at him without going cross-eyed. “I am not a jealous person.”

  He steals a kiss and dazes me with his leonine grin. “Synergist coding intensifies everything. I hate to break it to you, but any emotion you experience, as it relates to me, will be significantly magnified.”

  I groan.

  “Don’t worry, love. Only a room full of witnesses kept me from murdering every one of those blokes who tailed you round that gym.”