Chosen for Song, Volume 1

by Delia Stewart

  "I did get a dress," Ann said. I knew that without her mom around, shopping might be harder for her. I'd invited her to come with Mom and me, but she'd declined.

  "What's it like?" Grace asked.

  Ann described a short black dress with a whimsical ballerina skirt, and while it didn't sound like anything I could pull off, Ann's long-legged athleticism and flawless skin assured me she could probably wear a paper bag and be the envy of most of the other girls.

  "I still don't get Alex going with little miss bitchy," Ann said, raising a questioning eyebrow at Vance, as if he could explain this to us all.

  "I don't think Alex does either," I told them.

  "What the hell does that mean?" Colton asked, from where he lay on his back on an adjacent bench, his eyes shut.

  “We had this weird conversation," I said, explaining the non-apology Alex had given me, describing the way he'd said he hadn't actually made the choice to take her.

  Grace frowned, leaning forward and resting her forearms on her legs. "Is that possible? That she's controlling him somehow? What is Dora's gift, do we know?"

  "The gift of assholery?" I suggested.

  "I don't think Celata really focuses on that, or all the mean girls from Tate would be attending." Ann shrugged.

  "True," I agreed.

  "Can we find out?" Grace asked, turning her head to give me a frank look.

  "You're asking me? I'm the new girl, remember?" I sat up straighter.

  "The director is your father," Vance pointed out. "Maybe you could get into his office and check the student files. Find out what you can?"

  I'd thought of this before, but didn't see how I could do it. I wasn't the most computer savvy person. "I might be able to get into his office, but he keeps that computer locked down. I'm not exactly a hacker."

  "You just need a little help," Grace said.

  I frowned at her. "My dad would kill me."

  Colton sat up then, and gave us an intense look. "Here's what we do," he began, and a few minutes later, we were deep into planning. We were going to learn everything we could about Dora, and maybe we could figure out what was going on with Alex in the process. The two things were definitely related.

  An hour later, we were entering the school below Manhattan's west side, filing down the quiet stone corridors to the meeting hall, the largest room at Celata, which lay down a hallway I'd rarely had reason to explore. The entire student body had been summoned to an assembly, so we headed inside to find seats. As the others got settled, and more students were filtering in, Grace and I slipped out, leaving our bags with our friends, ready to put our plan into action.

  "Good luck," Ann whispered as I slid from my seat.

  "We need to get there before your father leaves," Grace said, and we hurried back through the lobby and turned down the corridor which held my father's office.

  We were almost to his door when he stepped out, surprised to nearly run right into us. "Girls," he said, and his face turned from surprise to suspicion. "You should be in assembly with the other students. I was just on my way." He checked his watch.

  "Maybe there was just one more thing you needed to do?" Grace asked him, a look of concentration on her face.

  He stared at her for a moment, a blank look gradually taking over the frown that had been there a moment before. "You know, you're right," he said amiably, and he went back into his office, leaving his door open. He typed something into his computer, and then looked up at us. "Girls. Assembly."

  "We're on our way," I assured him, and we stepped out, heading right instead of left and ducking into the classroom next to his office.

  A moment later we heard the hurried steps as my father rushed from his office and down the hallway to the assembly hall.

  "Think it could really be that easy?" I asked Grace.

  "Until he notices we aren't at assembly, sure," she said.

  We stepped out of the classroom and checked to see that the hallway was empty. Then we made our way back into my father's open office. The computer, thankfully, had been left unlocked, and his desktop glowed in front of me. Grace eased his door almost shut and then turned and gave me a look that suggested I hurry.

  "I'm not sure what I'm looking for here," I told her, scanning the icons and looking for something obvious.

  "They use some kind of database, probably," she said.

  I pulled up the program list, and found something that looked hopeful, and was rewarded as the front page loaded, bearing the words "Schola Celata Manhattan Student Registry."

  "Here we go," I told Grace. Dora's last name was Martinez, and I scanned to the M section, relief pouring through me when I found her easily. I pulled up her file and hit print, reassured when my father's printer purred to life in the corner, though the noise it made had me cringing. I hoped it wouldn't attract attention.

  Grace snatched the pages from the tray as it finished, and I shut down the database, leaving Dad's computer as he had while Grace shoved the pages into her pocket after folding them. "Let's go," she said.

  We were just easing Dad's door open, slipping back into the hallway, when the sound of footsteps came up fast behind us.

  "Shouldn't you girls be at assembly?" A sickly sweet voice asked.

  I turned.

  Dora. Looking at us like she knew absolutely everything without even asking. "What were you doing in the Director's office?" she asked.

  "My dad brought something for me from home. Something I forgot." The lie came out easily, and in some strange way it felt good to remind Dora that I was tied into this place, that I belonged here in a way she could not.

  Her face hardened for a moment, something flickering in her eyes before they darkened again to their usual unsettling black. "Hmm," she said, clearly not believing us.

  "Maybe we weren't in there at all," Grace suggested, and I knew she was tapping into her power. I wish I had the ability to make people believe things just by suggesting them innocently. I'd seen Grace do this on several occasions.

  Dora laughed. "Nice try, Grace." She grinned at us, those dark eyes glowing. "Shall we go to assembly? David will be expecting us," she said. She waited for us to turn and start walking, and she took a spot at our side, as if the three of us just happened to be late together.

  My mind spun. Grace's power had no effect on her at all. What did that mean? Grace must have been thinking about the same thing. She shot sideways glances at me as we walked. And since when did any student refer to my father, the director, as “David?” As we reached the now-closed assembly hall doors, Dora said, "I hope you remember what I told you, Carly. Everything. Bye Grace," she said, smiling sweetly.

  Grace responded in a more friendly tone than I would have expected. "Bye."

  I shot her a hard side eye and we went inside, drawing the attention of the entire room as we pulled open the doors and made our way to our seats next to Ann and the boys. Dora did not go inside with us, and though my father watched us sit, he didn't pause in what he was saying. I wondered if there'd be trouble later at home.

  For now, it didn't matter. Grace drew the folded papers out of her pocket and we read them together.

  If I'd thought reading Dora's registration papers would reveal something critical about her or shed light on exactly what gifts she arrived with, I was disappointed. The papers revealed almost nothing, simply stating that Dora had self-presented at Celata--as opposed to being recruited, as I had been, or sent by alumni parents, as many other students were.

  How in the world did a kid know a place like this existed? How did you find it if no one brought you here?

  There was no family mentioned, no previous address, and the page describing abilities was equally vague. Dora's file might as well have been blank, with the exception of one thing. On the last page, in a box marked "notes," there was a latin word, typed in a comment box with Mr. Armstong's name above it. "Anguis."

  "Snake," Grace said quietly, her finger finding the word. "Anguis is snake in latin."
/>   "What does that mean?" I asked, looking at Grace's small finger highlighting the strange word.

  "I don't know."

  We sat still and quiet as my father continued to speak, and soon his words overcame my mind's focus on Dora, the word "snake" in her file, and interrupted the way my mind was turning over Madame Codona's strange reading for me--one that was also full of snakes and serpents.

  "This year alone, more than four hundred young women between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one were reported missing in New York City. In a city where thirteen thousand missing persons reports are filed annually, that might not seem shocking," Dad was saying. "But the Missing Persons Squad has been overwhelmed with reports of women in this specific age range, women who don't fit the typical profile of most teenagers who go missing--those who run away.

  "Add to this," Dad continued. "More than one hundred young women have turned up dead in the subway tunnels, stations, and trains this year. These women are found marked--with puncture wounds on their arms and sometimes their legs." A series of photos were flashed on the screen over Dad's head, and you could hear the audience suck in their breaths.

  Celata wasn't a school for children, and as he flicked through the pictures of girls and the dual puncture wounds marring their clammy pale arms, I was glad. Everyone here was at least fifteen, but that didn't mean the pictures didn't set a dark sense of foreboding swirling inside me. I felt sick.

  "Los Angeles is reporting similar numbers. Chicago, Miami, Seattle, San Francisco. All increased numbers of missing women, all seeing a rise in murders or deaths, the victims found with these marks."

  "Those look like snake bites," Mrs. McIlwraith said from where she sat with all the teachers in the front row.

  "They do," Dad said. "But there is nothing definitive to go on right now. Bloodwork hasn't revealed any venom."

  "So what's the working theory?" Mr. Clifton asked.

  "There are a few," Dad said slowly. "None of which fall into the realm of the police department's usual work. That's why they've involved Celata."

  Dad went on to explain that for now, students at Celata were to keep our eyes open and our minds focused on anything unusual we saw in the tunnels around Celata. We were supposed to take note of girls in that age group looking lost or confused, and most of all, we were supposed to be careful, avoid being caught out alone if we fit the profile of the missing girls, and report anything unusual. Finally, Dad called a few names of students who he wanted to remain after the assembly concluded. I was among those called, so I sat as my friends filed out with worried looks.

  "Those of you still here," Dad said, once the room was quiet again. "Have abilities to sense and manipulate energy. We ask that you focus your minds on the tunnels around us, the spaces beneath the city. There have been geological reports of disturbances, seismic shifts, rumbling under the cities I mentioned earlier. It's possible you might be able to discern whether this movement is something other than the Earth shifting naturally. I suspect it is."

  I felt my eyebrows rise. I wasn't a seismologist. I could sense ghosts and demons--how was I supposed to sense movements of the earth itself?

  "Thanks, students. And please, remain vigilant," Dad said, as we rose to leave. "Carly," he said, his voice low.

  I approached the front of the room, where Dad was stepping down from the podium. "Did you want to talk to me?"

  He smiled then, and a sense of relief went through me. I thought maybe he'd known all along what Grace and I had been doing in his office. "Let's go home."

  I barely saw Alex for the rest of the week, and when I did, he was with Dora.

  Vance had begun meeting me alone in the mornings for school, though Colton always met us at the corner of Broadway. Still, it felt like a funeral procession, heading to school without Alex between us. I began to feel the lack of balance in my own life--Vance was my light, and Alex my dark. The only time I still spoke to him was at lunch, though Dora had begun sitting at our table, so even that conversation had become stilted and strange.

  "Are you excited about the dance tonight?" Dora asked me Friday at lunch, leaning into Alex's side as his arm draped her shoulder.

  I couldn't help but sneak glances at Alex's face--it was so hard for me to believe he wanted to be with Dora. And while his hand lay in her lap or draped her shoulder, his eyes telegraphed misery. Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see there.

  "I am," I said. I made a habit of speaking to Dora as little as possible--she tended to turn my own words against me or use them to make me feel small. Vance squeezed my knee when I answered, and I smiled gratefully at him.

  "I'm sure," she said, sighing and sounding bored. "I bet you've never been to a high school dance before, have you?" She asked. "With an actual boy."

  I felt the frown pull my mouth down, felt the angry retort climb my throat, but thought better of it. I clamped my mouth shut instead.

  Dora went on. "No surprise your little friend Grace didn't get asked, I guess. What with the ... you know." She motioned over her face, making her mouth droop on one side and squinting an eye. This wasn't the first time she'd talked about Grace like this, calling her deformed and making faces. I was just glad Grace didn't stay at Tate for lunch.

  Ann stiffened. "What are you even talking about?"

  "You know," Dora said, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "All that scarred mess of skin."

  "Don't bother," I suggested to Ann. "It's not worth engaging her."

  Vance had been busy eating the whole time, but now he put down his sandwich and looked at Dora critically. "You see that?"

  Dora spit out a bark of laughter. "Who doesn't? I wish I didn't. It's disgusting."

  Ann looked like she might leap up and rip Dora's throat out, and I kind of wanted her to do it. Ann was a shifter, and while I'd never seen her panther form hurt anyone, I had no doubt it was possible. That said, I didn't want to get into anything at Tate. I wanted to get home and get ready for tonight. Despite Alex's poor choice in dates, I was looking forward to the dance, to a chance to forget the strange things happening in the city, at Celata.

  I got up, lifting my tray and giving Alex a little smile. "Have fun tonight."

  Vance, Ann, and Colton stood too, and soon we were all signing out at the office, heading into the city streets, which had begun to wear a winter coat, the trees shedding the brown and gold leaves of autumn.

  “What did you mean?" I asked Vance as we walked toward home. We weren't going to Celata today. We'd been excused for the weekend, and I was having everyone over before we left for the dance. We'd get ready at my house and go all together. "About Grace. About seeing whatever Dora was talking about."

  "Grace will show you when she's ready," Vance said. "I don't feel like it's right for me to do it."

  Colton didn't seem to have the same reservation. "She was almost killed when she was little," he said. "She has scars. She covers them."

  "Like, with makeup?"

  Ann was looking back and forth between Colton and me as we spoke. This was clearly news to her too.

  "No, with suggestion." Colton said this as if it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world. "Illusion."

  I frowned, thinking about the time I glanced up at Grace and thought I saw someone else, someone twisted and scarred. Had the illusion slipped for that moment? "She holds an illusion all the time?"

  Vance sighed. "Grace is strong. And she doesn't want people to see the scars." His thumb stroked the top of my hand gently as he held it, and then he said, more quietly. "But Dora doesn't see the illusion. She sees the reality. And I can't touch her either."

  "What do you mean?" Ann asked.

  "My power doesn't work on her," Vance said. "She's the most unsunny person I've ever encountered. I can't influence her."

  "What does that mean?" I asked, echoing Ann.

  Colton stopped at the bottom of my steps. "Maybe it means that her power is the ability to avoid everyone else's powers."

  I thought ab
out the way my own growing power felt when I tried to use it to understand Dora, what was different about her. "I can't figure out what I feel around her," I told them. "Like--most people feel a certain way. Sort of like all cookies taste like cookies, but they're different depending on what kind they are. She doesn't feel like other people. There's a trace of something human, but a lot of something else. And I don't know what it is."

  Colton's eyebrows shot up. "Have you talked to anyone at Celata about this?"

  My mind went back to the last training session I had in Armstrong's room, when Dora sat looking bored in the corner. I'd failed at almost every task he'd set for me, had been unable to access energy around me. I couldn't even charge Armstrong's cell phone that day. I thought I had just been distracted by Dora's presence, but maybe it was something else. Maybe her presence actually interfered with my ability to influence and control energy. "Armstrong might know."

  We went inside, where my mom had hung up my dress next to Ann's and laid out the boys' tuxes on the back of the couch. We had a couple hours before we needed to get ready. "Food?" I asked them, moving into the kitchen.

  When we were settled around the table with popcorn and sodas, Vance leaned forward, looking at me hard. "We need to do something, guys. Alex is slipping."

  I shook my head, unclear what Vance meant. Just as he was about to explain, the door buzzed. Grace had arrived, carrying her own garment bag, and soon she was sitting with us at the table. Vance continued, talking about the ways Alex had slid away from him, but it was hard for me not to keep glancing over at Grace. Weren't we friends? Why hadn't she told me about the illusion she held in place all the time?

  "He still comes home," Vance said. "And I have the sense he's fighting it, whatever it is. But I can feel our connection starting to break. And if I lose him ... well, I'm more worried really about what happens to Alex if he comes untethered from me."

  The magnetic connection was still a mystery to me, but the way the boys had explained it, once magnetics were bonded, severing the bond was life-altering for both parties. And in many cases it could never be repaired.