Liquid Death (The Edinön Trilogy Book 1)

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Liquid Death (The Edinön Trilogy Book 1) Page 7

by C, Mitzi


  “Why do you need to know anything?”

  “I’m just… curious,” I say casually.

  Eliza rolls her eyes. “All right. The truth is, I don’t know much. Kandi is a mystery even the Doctors can’t crack. All I know is that she is the reason any of us have gifts. Your super strength came from her.”

  I squint in confusion. “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying that whatever she can do – and no one knows for sure – it came naturally to her. But with us… our gifts were created in a lab.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “So is this.” She touches my face, and her arm disappears. My jaw drops as I reach up to remove her invisible arm from my cheek. Her eyes glint flirtatiously.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I know. Impossible, right?” Her arm reappears, solid and visible as before. “How else would you explain that?”

  My brain is fried. “I have no idea. That is so cool.” I have always wanted the ability to turn invisible. I relinquish her arm after realizing I’d been holding it too long and return my hand to my lap. “How long have you had that gift?”

  “Since my release a year ago. I have shown no one but you, so you must keep it a secret.”

  “I will. I wouldn’t have anyone to tell anyway.”

  She smiles empathetically. “I know.”

  “So what’s your story, Eliza? Where are you from?”

  “Eliza! There you are!” I turn, wide-eyed, to discover a group of girls strutting our direction. A leggy brunette leads the girls, expensively dressed and beaming with confidence. Her eyes seek my own, and she giggles. “You’re Juan?” she asks.

  I look at her queerly. “Yeah. Who are you?”

  Eliza slaps her forehead. “This is Nina. Nina, what are you doing?”

  Nina peers back at her friends. “We were just looking for you. Mrs. Bowen needs your help with the final touches on the dance floor.”

  Oh, right. The Winter Ball was canceled due to inclement weather. It was moved to this Saturday last minute.

  “Have you asked anyone, Juan?” a perky auburn-haired chica queries.

  “Uh, no. I don’t know anyone.” I exchange glances with Eliza, hoping she can direct them away from me.

  “Oh.” The girl seems disappointed.

  Eliza finally takes the hint and stands up. “I’m coming, guys.” Before departing, she bends over to peck me on the cheek. “Sorry about that.”

  My body temperature rises ten degrees. I had not expected that.

  My fourth class is Health, and I don’t know I share a class with Kandi until I see her in the desk closest to the door, guarded protectively by her aide, upon entering.

  I smile and move to sit next to her, until Tim grabs the scruff of my shirt and hauls me to the back of the room. I brush him off and sit begrudgingly in the furthest corner from the door.

  Wow. I am sitting in the same classroom as Patient 1. Brock would freak out if he knew. And by ‘freak out,’ I mean burn something nearby in excitement.

  I feign scrawling notes while staring creepily at Kandi, hoping to spot some indication she is as unique as everyone seems to think she is. My heart wrenches as she wipes circles around her eyes and breathes into her hands. Her lips are no longer blue, and the scars on her face have vanished, but she appears to be harboring a deeper suffering beyond the physical. She looks haunted, like she’s reliving a horrific event from her past. I have seen this expression on my mother many times before.

  Why was Eliza afraid to talk about her? Why did she make me promise not to ask anyone else about her?

  And why would Kandi save me from the tranquilizing darts? Why would she risk revealing her powers over such a trivial matter? According to Eliza, even the Doctors do not know what she can do. And, based on the conversation with Doctor Hendricks I overheard, they have been trying to make her speak for seven years.

  I wonder if… no, that wouldn’t be a good idea. There is no way they would let me anywhere near her. Asking her to the Winter Ball would be a one-way ticket to Blue Skys. Besides, she probably wouldn’t accept my invitation. She does seem a little… disconnected.

  After the first bell, as I pack up in preparation to leave Health, I catch Kandi looking at me from across the room, almost like she... knows me. She holds a crinkled piece of paper in her right hand. Her aide walks around her, ready to escort her out of the classroom, but her feet remain planted on the floor by her desk until we make eye contact. Her eyes flash electric green so quickly I’m convinced I imagined it. Then she tosses the piece of paper in the garbage can and gives me another glance as she follows Kyle out the door. Interesting...

  I pick the paper up on my way out after the second bell and inform Tim and Mac that I need to use the restroom. As soon as I am locked within a stall, I sit on the toilet and smooth out the paper.

  In flawless print, it reads: Counselor’s Office, drawer 3 file Patient 108.

  I am Patient 108 (I won’t bother questioning how she knows that). There must be something in Doctor Hendricks’ office that Kandi wants me to see.

  ***

  I wait for my grandparents to fall asleep before I slip out of the house. I know I am currently under surveillance, so I wear all white to blend with the snow, including a white skullcap to conceal my black hair. The school is only ten miles away. I can make it there on foot in less than two hours

  The wind is chilly. The snow crunches under my feet as I warm my hands in my armpits and exhale discernable air. I walk behind, around, in front of, and through houses for several miles before I reach the long stretch of road leading up to the school. It crosses my mind that I may have misinterpreted Kandi’s message, but I ignore my doubts and press on. I have been wanting to snoop around in Hendricks’ office for a while anyway.

  Cruisers patrol Sunny Days at night, but I easily avoid them as I proceed through the east parking lot. When I approach the barred front doors, I locate the cameras and render myself as unseen as possible by staying close to the wall. It is at times like these when I truly need the gift of invisibility. Fortunately, I have plenty of experience with high security.

  I chuck a snowball at the camera facing me, obliterating the lenses. With that out of the way, I sidestep toward the bars and push two apart wide enough for me to fit between them, then sprint through the metal detector and down a dark, vacant hallway.

  I jog to the counselor’s office and jiggle the doorknob until it dislodges, then enter. I strain my ears for any sign of life within the room. When I hear nothing, I duck inside and engage Grandpa’s flashlight, dimly illuminating Doctor Hendricks’ polished mahogany and leather furniture. I quickly locate the file cabinet behind her desk and attempt to pull out the third drawer. Finding it locked, I muster more strength and force it open, raising the flashlight over the files and scanning them for the label ‘Patient 108.’

  My heart accelerates as I examine my file’s contents. The counselor has baby photos of me with my mother… pictures of my father in a brown suit with a briefcase I suspect is full of cash… a copy of my birth certificate… photographs of me chatting with Brock in Blue Skys’ cafeteria… my arrest record… news articles printed about my father’s death… This file has everything. Doctor Hendricks has my entire life on file.

  I realize I am breathing irregularly and stop to hold my breath. I excogitate hiding the file in my jacket, but finally decide I’d rather not be caught. If my file turned up missing, I would never see the light of day again.

  So this is what Kandi wanted me to see. But why? And how did she know I would be interested? Why would she even care?

  Discovering this information has only served to fill me with more questions. I do not know much about law, but keeping a file like this about me must be illegal. If I called the police, would they have enough to arrest the counselor/doctor? Would they even listen to me?

  I replace my file and flip through more in search of Kandi’s. I am positive Doctor Hendricks is keepin
g one on her as well.

  At last, I encounter the file labeled ‘Patient 1’ in a hidden compartment within the top drawer of the file cabinet. My hands involuntarily shake as I flip it open.

  “Over here!”

  My heart bursts out of my chest. The security guards must have discovered the bent metal bars at the entrance. Crap. I close the file and stuff it into my jacket, my vision flicking to the window. Time to escape.

  An hour later, I am still winding through the streets to evade the cops, energy completely depleted. I pant for breath behind a hedge, blood pulsing in my ears. What is Kandi hiding that the Doctors so ruthlessly hunt?

  I extract the file from my jacket and leaf through it, hoping for straight answers. My lungs shrivel when I find just the opposite: more questions.

  My eyes become wet as they scrutinize every photograph and document. I wipe a rogue tear from my face and shut the file before my stomach rejects what I’ve seen. I gaze up at the clear, starry sky, then close my eyes and release the dam on my emotions. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Nothing.

  Now I know why she left that note. It wasn’t for me. It was a cry for help.

  ***

  CHAPTER 7 – Kandi

  The Funny Story

  Jan. 6, 2017

  So, funny story: Kyle is taking me to the Winter Ball. Since Uncle Jim disappeared, I have been staying at Ms. Hendricks’ extravagant abode recovering from near freezing and starvation. A crazy idea came to her mind this morning that I should experience a high school dance before her nameless superiors coerce her to readmit me into Blue Skys. Of course, I didn’t object. That would require communicating.

  As a result, Ms. Hendricks has already rented a dress for me and a tux for my aide, who seemed all but happy with the idea of torturing me Saturday night. Obviously, some ground rules had to be laid with the proposal: no touching, no dancing, and no leaving each other’s sight. In other words, sit on the bench and watch fourteen- to eighteen-year-old children grind against one another to heart-pounding music until your eyes and ears bleed.

  I am aware there is a hidden agenda to this arrangement. Ms. Hendricks would not assign one of her best interns to babysit me on a Saturday night if she did not have to be somewhere important. And she couldn’t leave me alone with Kyle, so she decided a school dance would be the perfect place to keep me for two to three hours.

  It is Friday, and the time in Kyle’s car reads 4:57. My first group therapy appointment commences at five. I have already checked out of my brain and will return tomorrow morning.

  Miss Eddington meets us in the lobby and converses amorously with my aide while she directs us to group therapy. Kyle responds to her unconstrained coquetry by professionally maintaining an emotionless mien and walking closer to me.

  As expected, there are people at this session, and naturally my intestines react to the shock of seeing so many people in such a small room by forming a noose around my stomach. I double over and desperately crawl to the wall for support. My head is spinning, rendering my body helplessly immobile.

  “Kandi, I’ll be right with you the whole time,” Kyle consoles as he crouches beside me. “No one is judging you or looking at you. I will make sure you are as comfortable as possible.”

  A moan of anguish escapes my lips. I rest my forehead against the wall and pretend I am on a merry-go-round. Wee! This is fun!

  “Oh, dear, she is white as a ghost. Here, Kyle, give her this.” A kidney dish is passed from Miss Eddington to Kyle, and then to the floor by my feet.

  Has my fate changed? Am I finally passing to the next world?

  “Juan, sit back down,” my therapist orders.

  The mention of Juan’s name instantly calms the stormy seas in my head. If he is here, then I am safe. Juan will protect me. Color reappears in my face, and I can breathe again. I kick the dish aside and use the wall to stand.

  “Right over here, Kandi,” Kyle soothes, ushering me to a chair in the group circle. I follow him to the empty chair as I scan the room for Juan’s disheveled black hair. My fingertips tingle when I find his head amidst ten others, with his gargantuan aides breathing down his neck. Juan and I are the only students from Sunny Days who require aides (besides Henry). Somehow this simple fact designates Juan more trustworthy in my eyes.

  “Well,” Miss Eddington huffs as she perches in her chair, “we all know Kandi Levinson. Let’s navigate around the circle and introduce ourselves. Tell us your name and one unique thing about yourself before we begin. Cristina, why don’t you start?”

  Cristina, the Filipino girl to my left, shyly introduces herself and claims she can juggle. The next patient, Haven, is the youngest in the group at fourteen years old. Three patients later, Juan speaks. My knuckles whiten when his onyx eyes meet mine.

  “Hola, everyone. I am Juan Chavez, and I like to paint.” He mouths to me: I found it.

  I exhale bated breath, then mouth: Thank you.

  ***

  The following evening, Ms. Hendricks rampages through the house in search of her keys. Unfortunately, I incinerated them as punishment for drugging me and dressing me up like a doll.

  “Kandi!” she screeches furiously, flinging the couch pillows across the living room. “Where did you put my keys?”

  Suddenly, the doorbell rings, giving her a five-second window to compose herself. She grunts and straightens her blouse before answering the door.

  “Kyle!” she exclaims warmly, inviting him in with a wave of her arm. “Welcome. Kandi is ready for you.” She glares back at me, and I dramatically blow the key dust from my hand and watch it fly through the air. Her face twists with rage, but she manages to suppress it well in front of my dashing prince.

  I rise from the piano bench and inadvertently scatter glitter over her precious new carpet. My dress, unarguably elegant, is dark green dusted with lighter green sparkles that match my eyes perfectly. It is more revealing than I wish it to be, with a single strap over my left shoulder and nothing over my right. The back is cinched tightly in a series of complicated knots. My hair is pinned like a cinnamon roll low against my neck, with ringlets interspersed along the side. Ms. Hendricks had the audacity to place a small crown on my head like I’m her little princess. And worse, to make up for what I lack in height, she is forcing me to wear six-inch heels. Luckily I won’t be dancing, or my feet would fall off in minutes. She even took the time to dab lip gloss over my lips and increase the volume of my lashes with mascara. I must look like a clown.

  Kyle is clad in a custom-suited tuxedo, and his hair is as dashingly wavy as ever. When he steps into the room, I expect him to vomit. Rather, to my astonishment, his eyes expand and his jaw unhinges. He lifts his free hand to lock his mandible into place.

  Ms. Hendricks smiles proudly. “Isn’t she perfect?” she gushes as she hands him his boutonniere.

  “She is positively effulgent.” He extends the hand with the corsage toward me, unable to tear his eyes away. I wrap the corsage around my wrist while the doctor pins his flower to his chest and pats it for good measure.

  “All right, Kyle. You remember the rules?”

  He nods once. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’ll bring her home by midnight.”

  She laughs and shoves him out the door. “Make sure no one touches her,” she instructs in a singsong voice. She turns back to me and glares so evilly I half expect lasers to fire from her pupils.

  The guards at the entrance to the gymnasium immediately let us through without question. One of the guards even offers to take my coat, but Kyle declines.

  Tasteless music assaults my ears as I enter behind my date. The temperature change from outside to inside is drastic. I remove my coat and pass it to Kyle before I begin to perspire.

  I had anticipated this night to be among the most uncomfortable nights I have ever experienced. I had anticipated stares, people, dim lighting, and headache-inducing bass lines. But I had not anticipated the removal of my coat to be interpreted as an invitation to stop the mus
ic and gawk at the mute freak and her 25-year-old date. Crickets chirp ironically, and blinking eyes sound vociferous in the silence, like crashing cymbals.

  The anxiety that had crippled me entering group therapy was vanilla and roses compared to the anxiety bubbling within me now. My heart is pulverizing my ribs, and every breath threatens to be my last.

  Whispers begin to breach the reticence.

  “Eye Kandi is gorgeous!”

  “Yummy.”

  “I have never seen such an adorable couple.”

  “Quick, pull out your phone. We’ve gotta snap pictures of this.”

  “Look at her dress. It must have cost a fortune.”

  “Why is she here?”

  Kyle leans over and says something, but his voice is drowned out by the other voices. I can’t clear my head.

  “Guys, play the music!” Kyle yells. “Leave Kandi alone!”

  Gradually, disinterest pervades the crowd, and I suck in air like I had been trapped underwater for several minutes. Kyle escorts me to a nearby refreshment table, and I forget the anxiety and dive head-first into the free punch and snacks. “We just have to remain here for a few hours,” he mutters to himself, wiping his forehead with his green pocket square.

  While piecing on blueberry muffins and cheese-coated crackers, I think of Juan, wishing he was here to tell me what he found in Ms. Hendricks’ office. I also think of my father and his whereabouts now that he is a fugitive. Ms. Hendricks wouldn’t let him find me...

  Who am I kidding? There is not a human mind in the world that can resist his will. Not even Juan could protect me from him. It is only a matter of time before he reintroduces his cold knife to my fragile skin.

  On the return trip to Ms. Hendricks’ mansion, Kyle pulls out his phone and dials her number. She answers after two rings.

  “Everything okay, Kyle?” she inquires.

  Kyle nods like an idiot and glances at me in the passenger seat. “Yes, everything’s fine. We’re on our way back to your place.”

 

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