by Grace White
“Coast is clear,” she whispers, and my eyes strain against the darkness to get my bearings, the shapes become clearer and I realize we’re standing in Monȃe’s laundry room. “I stopped by earlier to see a friend and snuck in here and unlocked the door.”
“Resourceful,” I say, and she flashes me a rare grin. “Come on.” Hitching the backpack up her shoulder, she heads for the door which I know will lead out into the main hall connecting the kitchen, common room, and ground floor bedrooms.
“Crap,” I mumble and Jesse pauses, glancing back at me. “Problem?” Her brows quirk up.
“I… no. I got my hair caught.” I lie.
The truth is I remember Ross lives on the ground floor. It hadn’t occurred to me earlier when I’d been too busy squaring off with Jesse. But I can feel him already, the thread of energy flowing between us.
And if I can feel it.
So can he.
But there’s no going back now. We duck into the hall. It’s steeped in darkness, the whole building quiet, and just like when I infiltrated Allender, if I concentrate I can sense the other students here. Sleeping. Studying. Doing other things which make my cheeks flush and skin tingle.
“Not everyone is asleep, let’s hurry,” I say as we tiptoe our way toward the common room.
“How do you—”
A door slams somewhere in the building and we freeze, my heart in my throat as I try to hold my breath. Footsteps sound overhead on the first floor. Another door. Then the faint trickle of water.
“Someone is in the bathroom. Come on.” Jesse hurries and I follow until we’re secreted away in the empty common room.
“Here it is.” I stare up at the dorm’s noticeboard. “Shall I remove these and you pin up the new ones?”
To my surprise, Jesse doesn’t argue, and I start untacking the notices, posters and announcements while she retrieves the stack of freshly printed ones. Ones depicting Amelia Earhart. Black and white photographs and newspaper cuttings charting her successful career. When the last of the original posters is removed, I step back to survey Jesse’s handiwork. “Those look great.”
“Riley has mad skills on photoshop.” Jesse plants her hands on her hip. “Jacob, Monȃe’s dorm rep, is going to shit a brick when he sees this.”
“Sounds personal,” I muse, and she shrugs.
“He likes order and control, and the guy is a chauvinistic pig.” Suddenly, Jesse’s insistence on pranking Monȃe makes sense. “This will definitely hit a nerve.” She flicks her head at the many photos of Amelia Earhart.
“Come on, we should probably get out of here.” I go to leave but her voice stops me dead.
“Just one more.” She retrieves a roll from her bag. It’s bigger than the others and I gasp as she smooths it out.
“Jesse, that’s against the rules.”
“Lighten up, Jacob won’t rat us out. He wouldn’t want to be embarrassed.”
“But—”
“I thought you wanted to win this thing?” Her eyes narrow right on me and I roll back my shoulders, not liking her insinuation that I’m weak.
“I do.”
“So help me pin this up.”
With a heavy sigh, I hold the corners out while Jesse pins the portrait of Amelia Earhart with Jacob’s face superimposed over the top, to the noticeboard. When we’re done, she stuffs the original notices in her backpack and slings it over her shoulder. We sneak back out into the hallway quietly and make our way to the laundry room. I half-expect to see Ross appear any second, but he doesn’t.
“Almost there,” Jesse whispers as we reach the door marked laundry room. She slips inside, me close behind. I grab the handle, closing it quietly to avoid being caught at the last hurdle. My partner-in-crime is already at the back door when I hear it.
Footsteps in the hall.
“Crap, someone is out there. They’re coming this way.” I hurry toward her just as she pushes the door wide. “Jesse, wait,” I hiss but then her eyes collide with mine and I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake trusting her. She holds my alarmed gaze before ducking into the inky night and pulling the door shut behind her. I lunge for the handle but hear a click on the other side. A key turning.
Traitorous bitch. She’s sold me out. And all for what? Pinning her personal vendetta on me. Amalia was right all along.
Spinning around, I search for somewhere to hide. Light seeps into the room underneath the door, the footsteps getting nearer, louder.
Think, Terra, think.
I could make a run for it and hope I reach Ross’ room before whoever is out there spots me. Or I could take the fall and let Earhart get disqualified from Prank Wars, or… inhaling a deep breath, I center my thoughts until my pulse slows to normal and I can hear nothing but the buzz of my pulse in my ears. Until there’s nothing but me and the energy swirling inside me. I feel it like an electrical current zipping through me.
A power source, the coven like to call it.
And all I have to do is channel it, the way I did with the feather in Amalia’s room.
Palms extended in front of me, I latch onto the current and start pushing. Expelling it from me. My body trembles furiously, my heart galloping behind my ribcage, as I push harder. Further. The lightbulb overhead flickers to life then explodes, remnants of glass flying everywhere but I don’t let go of the thread, willing it to bend to my power.
“What the—” A voice on the other side of the door shrieks as the sound of shattering glass fills the air. I move to the door, gripping the handle. The footsteps are retreating, the person muttering to themselves. Without another thought, I slip into the dark hall. Light streams from the kitchen but it’s now or never. So I run for it. As I fly past the kitchen someone calls, ‘who’s there?’ but I keep going. The front door looms up ahead if I can just reach it.
“Who’s out here?” The voice is louder, but my fingers grab the lock and twist and then I’m stumbling through the door into the night. I look back to see a guy moving down the hall, but I take off, running for the shadows alongside the building.
“Wait up,” I call just as Amalia and the others are about to disappear inside.
“Terra?” Amalia eyes widen. “Jesse said—”
“I managed to get out just before they found me.” Matching Jesse’s scowl with my own, my words are saccharine as I say, “It was a lucky escape.”
“Lucky indeed,” I’m sure I hear Jesse grumble, but the others are still looking at me. Waiting for more explanation, no doubt.
“I told Jesse to go on ahead,” I explain. “There was no use in us both getting caught. But I managed to wedge the door shut and get out.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have left you.” Amalia casts Jesse a dirty look. “That was really close.” She comes to me, looping her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
Jesse storms off, not waiting around to debrief the group. So I fill them in, leaving out the bits about Jesse’s betrayal and her quest for revenge against Monȃe’s dorm rep Jacob. Outside her room, Amalia says, “Did she pull something?”
“Who? Jesse?” I say schooling my expression. “No, it was just bad luck. Anyway, I got out. It’ll be fine.”
Suspicion glistens in her eyes but after another second, Amalia’s shoulders sag with defeat. “Okay. Get some rest. Goodnight, Terra.”
When I slip inside my room, it’s no surprise to see my cell phone flashing. I pick it up and read the text message.
Ross: Why can I sense you?
Ross: Terra?
Ross: What are you up to?
Ross: I felt you, your energy. What the hell did you do?
Ross: I’m coming over, right now
I can’t stop the tug of my lips as I move to the balcony door, the familiar sight of Ross standing on the other side.
“What did you do?” he says as it swings open.
“Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Terra,” he warns, and I stifle the urge to laugh.
>
“You think this is funny?” His stormy eyes search my face for the truth, but I stand taller.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I did it,” I breathe out. “I controlled my power.”
“You shattered the lights at Monȃe.”
With a shrug, I say, “Maybe.”
“This isn’t a game, Terra. People could end up hurt. If you lose control—”
“I didn’t lose control. I didn’t hurt anyone. Besides, I had no choice.”
His brow rises, and he rubs his jaw. “I knew I should have come looking for you.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to crowd you.”
“Is that the real reason?” I push, daring him to be honest with me. Although we’ve grown closer, he still keeps me at arm’s length. Pulling me in and then pushing me back out.
“I should go.”
“Fine.”
“You need to be more careful, Terra.” He turns to leave but glances back at the last second, his eyes sweeping down my body, before lingering on my face, my mouth.
“Ross?” I whisper but his stone mask slams back into place and he leaps over the balcony and disappears into the night.
“Rumor has it, you had a lucky escape last night?” Cael arches his brow at me from over his coffee and I look away, staring at the oak tree outside Beans before meeting his concerned gaze.
“Ross needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”
“Whoa there, he only—”
“I’m sorry,” I rush out. “That was uncalled for. I just thought you’d all be pleased I was making progress.”
I’d controlled my power, bended it to my will… and it had worked.
“We are. But we also don’t want you to risk exposing yourself.” He leans across the table, lowering his voice. “Or harming an innocent.”
“No one got hurt.” It was just a few shattered light bulbs.
“Well, yeah, let’s keep it that way.” Cael gives me a pointed look, adding, “What happened anyway? Ross didn’t give us the specifics.”
“Us?” I quip back.
“Yeah, me and Endo.”
I roll my eyes at the idea of the three of them sitting around discussing me and take a sip my coffee. “Jesse, the girl I was with, thought it would be fun to leave me behind.” His brows pinch as he waits for me to explain. “She hasn’t liked me since day one. I don’t know what her problem is, but I went with her to prove a point, I guess. I didn’t think she’d do that.”
“She sounds lovely.” He smirks.
“She’s something. The look on her face when I caught up with them was priceless.”
“Do you think she knows?”
“Knows?” I frown. I haven’t considered that. “No, I don’t think so. She’s just a bitch.”
“Terra Materson, did you just cuss?” Cael says around a wide smile that shoots what feels like a bolt of electricity to my chest.
“I cuss sometimes.”
“Sure you do, Kitten.”
“Did you just call me kitten?”
“Maybe.” He flashes me another butterfly inducing grin. “How are classes going?”
“Okay, I guess. I’ve been finding it hard to concentrate given everything.”
“That’s understandable but despite what Endo might think, I think class is a good thing. It’ll give you something to focus on until things move forward.”
I run my fingers around the rim of my mug. “It’s just when I first came here, I had a plan. A future. And now…” the words trail off.
“You still have a future, Terra.”
“Do I?”
“Maybe it’s not the one you imagined for yourself and we can’t predict what will happen but you’re still you. You’re still just a nineteen-year-old girl who loves coffee and that old tree.” He flicks his head to the window where beyond it is the oak tree.
“When I first arrived here, I felt them all. Their stories, their history.”
“And now?”
“It’s different. I still feel them but it’s more of a lingering hum of energy. An invisible connection.”
“Maybe they sense the change in you.”
“You think?” I sit straighter.
“Gaia created Earth, Terra. Her spirit lives in everything. Before Sol grounded Gaia’s spirit to yours, what you felt didn’t make sense. You were receiving all these signals and messages, but they were in a different language. Your brain simply couldn’t process them, but now—”
“Now, I speak the same language.”
“I think so. You’re still receiving the signals; they’re just on a different frequency now.”
I glance at the tree again. Its thick trunk gives way to big sturdy branches. He’s right, I do feel it. But in a different way. Before it was a snapshot. A moment in time of great pain or suffering, or disaster. Now it’s more than that. I sense its deep roots running underneath the ground, drawing energy from the earth. I feel its strength and age.
“You feel it don’t you?”
Sliding my eyes to Cael’s I nod. “I’m connected to it, and it to me.”
“You’re connected to everything, Terra.”
“Even you?” I say boldly, surprising myself. But from the intensity in his eyes, I know I don’t need to be embarrassed.
“Most of all, us. Come on, I should get you to class.” He stands, and as I follow him out of the coffee shop, I realize he didn’t say ‘me’, he said ‘us’.
After two grueling hours of lectures, I head to the student center for lunch. The last person I expect to bump into is Jesse, but the second she spots me across the hall, she makes her way over, her usual icy mask in place.
I don’t stop for her, but her words freeze me on the spot. “How’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Come on, don’t play dumb. We both know you were locked in the laundry room with no way out.”
“Guess your plan to let me take the fall failed.” I met her cool gaze. “And I was stupid enough to think that maybe we could actually be friends.”
“Friends?” she barks out a bitter laugh. “You think I want to be friends with someone like you?”
“Like me?” I bristle feeling my blood burn with irritation. “You don’t know anything about me, Jesse.”
“I know enough.” Her raven brows hit her hairline.
“Whatever.” I shoulder the door to the cafeteria and leave her behind. Amalia was right all along, someone like Jesse is her own worst enemy, and with everything else going on, I don’t have time to try to figure her out.
“Hey, Terra, over here.” Claire waves from a table and I mouth, ‘I’ll be right over'.
After choosing a salad, and orange juice, I make my way over to her and Mischa. “Hey.” I sit down. “No Amalia?”
“She has a study group.”
“Oh.” I fork the green leaves on my plate when a strange sensation washes over me. My fingers curl around the edge of the table as my eyes scan the room.
“Terra, is everything okay?”
It isn’t. But I can’t tell her that. So I force a smile and ask them about their classes. Claire is studying Arts History and Mischa hasn’t decided on a major.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mischa asks again.
“It’s the dressing.” I lie scrunching up my nose as I fork my salad around the plate. “I think it has mustard seeds in.” My stomach roils as I push the tray into the center of the table. “I can’t eat it.”
“Did Amalia tell you about the party at the weekend at Canfield-Fisher?”
“Another party?” I say.
“Those guys throw the best parties. You’ll come, right?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“You have to come,” Claire chimes in.
“I’ll think about it.” I suck in a sharp breath as the sensation intensifies. It’s the same overwhelming feeling as last time, but I refuse to run. Not again. Not with my friends watching my every move. “Damn mustard seeds.”
I fake shudder. “Excuse me, I’m going to get some water.”
I walk quickly, running my eyes over the busy room. Nothing seems out of place. No one seems to be paying me any attention. But the feeling is there, the energy rippling in the air. It lingers around me, moving and swirling, trying to find a way in. But I’m stronger now and I resist. Forcing out my own energy, silently telling it, it isn’t welcome.
Helping myself to a cup of water from the cooler, I gulp it down. It douses the bitter taste of evil on my tongue but does little to quell the queasiness. From here I have the perfect vantage point and can see the entire room. The clusters of tables. The service counter and salad bar. I catch a flash of black out of the corner of my eye and glance over to the double doors just in time to see Jesse leaving. I didn’t notice her before. And even though she’s made her feelings toward me perfectly clear, I can’t believe she’s behind whatever’s happening right now. It’s impossible.
Isn’t it?
But as I focus on the dark energy, I realize it’s fading. And by the time I reach the table again, it’s gone. No sign it was ever there.
“Better?” Mischa asks as I drop down beside her.
“Much, thanks.” I inhale a deep cleansing breath and glance back at the door. Jesse isn’t the culprit. She can’t be. The guys would have felt her, wouldn’t they?
“So the party…” Claire launches into plans for the weekend and I focus on the excited tone of her voice, but something catches her attention over my shoulder. “Hmm, Terra, that guy over there is watching you.”
I twist around, my eyes landing on Ross standing over by the door.
“Do you know him?”
“He’s in my Intro to Philosophy class.”
“He’s intense. Is he single?”
“Seriously, Mischa,” Claire groans and I manage a weak smile.
“He probably wants to discuss our latest assignment. I’ll catch you guys later?”
“Sure. Go discuss class with the intense hottie. Not jealous,”—Mischa holds up her hands—“not jealous at all.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my backpack and make my way over to Ross.