“Where is Hartman?” she demanded.
“Why? Want to tell him you plan to marry his stepbrother?” Tray asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, I want to tell him I plan to murder his stepbrother,” she snarled. “He thinks he’s some sort of god here—you’ll see. He needs to be annihilated.”
Curled on an orange couch with his girlfriend, Seth finally turned at Adara’s vengeful proclamation, his jaw dropping and eyes widening. “Holy balls! What happened to your face?”
That, apparently, spiked Kiki’s attention, because she swiveled her head toward Adara and then sneered in disgust. “Ew! Get your blood out of here, loser.”
Eliana noticed Adara’s jaw tighten, but she maintained a flat tone as she said, “Nero punched me.”
“Glad I didn’t accompany you,” Lavisa said apathetically as she continued scraping the rock along the pointed stick. “Wasn’t in the mood for a scuffle.”
“Are you now?” Adara asked, but Eliana had stopped listening. Her focus had shifted to the television hanging on the wall, where a familiar clip was playing on the news.
“Uh, Adara—”
“I’d like to see someone punch Nero’s eyes out when he comes in here—”
“Adara—”
“No, Eliana, I’m not going to take my mean comment back. I want Nero’s eyes ripped out of his—”
“No, look.” Eliana tapped her roommate’s arm while pointing toward the television. “You guys are on TV.”
The entire group glanced over to see a video of Lavisa tackling the delinquents at the detention center while two of the guards lay unconscious on the ground. From the downward view of the security camera, Eliana watched Adara uncuff Hastings before the six of them proceeded to scurry out of the room. The caption at the bottom of the screen read: “WACKO” PRISON HEIST.
“As you can see,” the reporter on the television said as the tape replayed, “the yellow-haired Wacko has taken down two of the prisoners simply defending themselves. The guards, who are now in critical condition, were knocked unconscious by the Wacko girl just moments before—”
“I don’t knock law-abiding citizens unconscious, woman,” Lavisa barked at the television. “Get your facts right.”
“I look pretty evil on TV,” Adara observed as she tilted her head to the side. “I like it.”
“According to our sources,” the reporter continued, “one of the facility’s security guards was a Wacko himself and was the one who allowed these Wackos to come and go. Rest assured that the guard has been apprehended and detained until his trial later this month. As for the five Wackos and the escaped prisoner Wacko, their whereabouts are unknown. All citizens are being asked to tread with caution, as it is certain they pose a threat.”
“A threat to you, maybe!” Adara shouted at the television. “Lying about us on the news… The prisoner was not stolen—he was taken…lawfully, right?”
Hastings, who she had looked to for an answer, just gave a noncommittal shrug.
“I wouldn’t have hurt those kids if they hadn’t come at us first,” Lavisa said, now carving her stick with more ferocity. “If they’d just stayed in their dumb handcuffs…”
“The media loves to exaggerate,” Tray said. “They love to twist the facts and come up with outrageous stories to scare the public into thinking we’re the enemy.”
“Oh, and Wackos aren’t the enemy?” Adara challenged, her eyebrow shooting upward. “I thought you hated them, Stark? I thought they were terrorists?”
“They are, but we aren’t,” he emphasized, gazing over at the television as the reporter moved on to talk about a Wacko catastrophe in Chicago. Eliana had been seeing similar stories for weeks, but here now, amongst hundreds of Affinities who were easily as capable of such terror, it felt much less distant.
“Well, if the media can lie about us, what makes you think they’re not lying about them? What if everything’s just one big scam?”
“It is, basically.” Ackerly shifted in his chair when all eyes fell on him. “Th-there’s always a bit of truth in the stories, but…not the whole truth. They say…they say these Wackos are crazy people rampaging for no reason, but I bet they have a reason—a reason the media’s hiding from the world.”
Adara pointed at him with satisfaction. “Mm, that’s deep, Greenie, and I like that you’re siding with me over Nerdworm. You’ve picked the right side.”
“I agree with everything he just said,” Tray fumed.
“I just feel bad for that guy who got arrested because of you guys,” Seth cut in. “They’re gonna interrogate the crap outta him if he’s actually a Wacko.”
“He did have an Affinity,” Lavisa confirmed, her hostility aimed at the reporter on the television, “and they’ll probably discriminate against him for it. If we weren’t stuck here, I’d save him.”
“Oh, so noble of you,” Adara droned. “Now, while you all watch this shitshow they call news, I’m going to go figure out which dorm room is Nero’s and trash it. Sweet dreams, suckers.”
As the others all grumbled careless “goodnights” to Adara, Eliana glanced toward Hastings and studied his visible discomfort. She could have suggested they sit down and join the group, but she wasn’t quite in the mood to make friends tonight, and Hastings didn’t seem like he was in the mood to make friends ever. With the slightest incline of her head, Eliana motioned toward the spiral staircase Adara was now climbing, and Hastings instantly nodded his silent agreement.
At first, Eliana thought Adara wouldn’t notice them following behind her, but as soon as they reached the first floor, the girl whipped around fast enough that Eliana nearly stumbled back into Hastings. The smile on her lips was so manically mischievous that Eliana’s mouth went dry.
“What are you two doing?”
“Oh, well—um…Hastings wanted to go to sleep—”
“And you wanted to go with him?” she concluded, her dark eyes flickering back toward the boy. Eliana was too mortified to wonder what kind of expression he might have been making. “Cute.”
“No, no—that’s not—” The heat swelling in her cheeks seemed to prohibit her from finishing her sentence. “I wanted to go to my own bed, actually, and sleep…alone. We’re, um…roommates, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Adara sang before resuming her ascent. “You might be an unintentionally nosy roommate, but at least you’re not Kiki.”
“You and Kiki really…hate each other, huh?” Eliana pried tentatively.
“Hate is an understatement. I’ve been parentless since before school started, and of course, meeting new people as a poor, insecure kid doesn’t go well. Kiki made sure I was the loser at school from the first day of kindergarten. Tray joined the outcasts when everyone realized it wasn’t cool to be a smart know-it-all.”
“But you and Tray seem to hate each other, too.”
“Basically,” she affirmed as they passed the second floor. “We may both be low on the social status, but we’re really nothing alike.”
“But you and Seth are…”
“Friends—we have been since we were young. We met in kindergarten, became instant friends, and used to play sports together and hang out. He didn’t realize I was uncool until he got good at football and fell in love with Nasty B.”
“Is that your nickname for Kiki?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. She doesn’t know it, though. It’s hard to ridicule her in front of all of her friends, so I only ever mock her when no one cool is around—not because I’m scared of them, but because I don’t want to…start any trouble.”
Hastings coughed loudly, and Adara paused to glance back at him quizzically. “You just…don’t seem like you don’t want to start trouble,” he said.
“Well, she wouldn’t want Seth to start hating her,” Eliana reasoned with a feeble smile. “I mean, because you’re good friends—just friends.”
“Right…” Adara agreed, eyeing her skeptically. “Now, which floor do you think Nero
’s on?”
“I…don’t know. Our room’s on floor three—this floor,” Eliana said, motioning to the new level they’d just arrived on. The square-shaped hall with doors lining each wall was deserted, except for two teens both leaning against the wall beside the door to room 305—Eliana and Adara’s room.
Eliana’s gaze was first drawn to the larger of the two, a boy whose toned, tanned arms were crossed casually over his chest. His face was gentle despite the sharp features, and his hair and eyes were an unnatural shade of lemon yellow. While he’d previously had his focus on his companion, his attention rapidly turned toward Adara as she stepped slowly into the corridor, mutual shock and disbelief wafting off both of them.
“Adara? What are—you—your face—”
His rambles soon became a vague blur in Eliana’s awareness when her vision fixed on his companion. The startlingly angelic white of her hair should have captivated her immediately, purer than any paper or canvas or dollop of paint. It wasn’t the beauty of her long hair that made Eliana gawk, though, or even the fact that she was wearing darkly-tinted sunglasses indoors; it was the fact that this girl shared her porcelain skin tone and heart-shaped face and small, thin stature, because this girl was her sister.
“Zeela!” Eliana gasped before shoving Adara out of the way and sprinting across the hall. She barely caught a glimpse of her sister’s growing smile before tackling her in a tight embrace.
“Twins?” Hastings guessed when Eliana reluctantly pulled away from her sister. She should have recognized Zeela’s mind, but so many years had passed since their last encounter that, even though her abilities had developed, her sister’s cognizance felt more foreign now than ever before.
“No, she’s my older sister,” Eliana told Hastings. “I haven’t seen her since…well, since she came here three years ago, I guess.”
Zeela’s smile broadened as she kissed her sister’s forehead and then motioned toward her companion. “Ellie, this is my boyfriend, Avner.”
Avner didn’t acknowledge either of them because he wouldn’t stop staring at Adara, who gradually approached them, shaking her head ceaselessly.
“You have got to be shitting me.” Her tone was one of anger, but Eliana could sense the bitter frustration in her, more intricate than the shallow act she’d been displaying over the past few hours. “This must be a joke.”
“You haven’t changed at all,” Avner breathed, beaming stupidly. When he grabbed her in a hug, she quickly shoved him away.
“Get off! Who—who are you?”
“You don’t remember?” he questioned with creased eyebrows. “Has it really been that long?”
“Well, I dunno, I’d say it’s been about three freaking years since you abandoned me!”
“I didn’t—Hey…did you dye your hair?” he asked as his head drooped to the side. “It looks different.”
“Did I dye my hair. Did I dye my hair!” she screamed before reaching up, grabbing his yellow locks, and yanking his face down to her level. “You are a freaking blond now and you used to have black hair!”
Avner shrugged his way out of her grasp and, grimacing, ruffled his hair. “Your hair’s got this reddish tint to it now, so that’s a little weird, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not as weird as you being a bleach blond!”
Avner stiffened, highly offended by her accusation. “I am not a bleach blond. This is yellow.”
“Yeah, well, it looks bad,” Adara huffed, crossing her arms as she refused to look at him. “And your girlfriend is an old lady with her freakin’ white hair. What’s your power, hm—looking elderly?”
“No. Well, she’s blind, actually—” Eliana began, though her words were drowned out by Adara’s derisive snorts.
“Oh, she’s blind, is she? So she actually is dying, then?”
“Can you just chill out for a few seconds, please?” Avner pleaded, a sad, earnest gleam in his bright eyes. Adara puffed out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t know you’d be coming here—at all, really,” he admitted. “But I thought the next time we saw each other, you’d at least be glad to see me.”
“Glad to see you?” she repeated, her eyes narrowing at him. “After you left me with—with those people?”
“They were a nice foster family—”
“Yeah, nice to you because you’re Perfect Avner. I’m Deviant Adara, the girl who gets criticized for everything.”
“Listen—”
“You just left me when I was thirteen with no family and not even knowing if I had powers! What if I didn’t, Av? What if I was just alone forever, while you were having fun here, banging your blind, elderly girlfriend?”
He sighed, scratching his forehead. Eliana could feel his sincere desperation, but she could also feel Adara’s deep-rooted dejection; as always, it was impossible for her to choose a side.
“I heard you moved in with the Starks shortly after I left,” Avner said. “I assumed you were…happy.”
“Oh, yeah, so happy living with Tray!” she retorted loudly enough that he could probably hear her down in the lounge.
“And I assumed you’d come here,” he went on, ignoring her harsh remark. “Having an Affinity often runs in the family.”
“But what if I didn’t? You were supposed to take care of me!”
“You’ve never wanted me to take care of you! You’ve always just wanted to do your own thing—get into trouble and break the law, I’ve heard.”
“That’s a minor detail,” she repudiated with a wave of her hand.
Avner pressed his lips together and then inhaled a breath. “I’m glad you’re here, Adara. We’re together again—isn’t that what matters?”
Shoving past Zeela, the girl yanked open the door to room 305, pausing in the threshold to spin back toward her brother. Her eyes blazed as she scrunched her broken nose at him. “Thank you so much for waiting outside my room to greet me. It really makes up for all the time you were absent.”
“We…actually came here to say hi to Eliana,” Zeela admitted as tenderly as possible. Her voice didn’t seem to soothe Adara in the same way it had always comforted Eliana. “But…I’m guessing you’re Avner’s sister?”
“Wow, you’re so perceptive. Congrats, Av, on finding someone so intelligent,” Adara derided before slamming the door.
“She’s a delight,” Zeela noted, at which Avner, Eliana, and even Hastings all winced their dissent.
“Any idea why she’s covered in blood?” Avner asked, his question nearly overpowered by a clamor from within the dorm room. Eliana cringed at the destructive sound, but Avner was completely unfazed.
“Nero punched her in the nose,” Hastings explained. Somehow he managed not to jump when a rage-filled shriek emanated from beyond the door.
Avner nodded, unsurprised. “She would get punched by Nero. A few hours here and she’s already got an enemy, huh?” When neither of them contrived a reply, he cleared his throat and smiled. “You look familiar,” he said to Hastings. “Are you a primary?”
“If by that you’re asking if this is my first day here, then yes,” Hastings replied as the older boy appraised him with sharp yellow eyes.
“We call the newcomers primaries for the first year,” Zeela said. “In the second year, you’re a secondary, the third year is tertiary, and the fourth is quaternary. We’re quaternaries.”
“Periculand’s great—you’ll see,” Avner encouraged, and Eliana forced a smile, since she knew he was being genuine. Zeela had never had a boyfriend before, and it was strange to try to process the past three years of her sister’s growth in a matter of minutes.
“C’mon, I wanna show you my room,” Zeela prompted, guiding her sister back toward the staircase. When another echoing thud resounded from room 305, she added, “I don’t think you’ll want to go in there for a while, anyway.”
8
Shadows of the Past
“So, Adara actually talked to Avner, huh?” Seth asked through a mouthful of scrambl
ed eggs. He and Eliana were seated with Tray at one of the round tables in the school’s cafeteria, eating the breakfast that would fuel them for their first day of classes.
Though the walls were dull gray, the round tables that speckled the room were all different bright hues, much like the furniture in the tower lounge. The upperclassmen had already claimed the far end of the cafeteria, leaving the primaries the tables near the buffet, an area that was louder and more crowded.
Tray was numb to the clamor, focused acutely on wondering how the day would unfold. Would they be given textbooks? Would they receive formal grades for their assignments? Would this small, unknown school challenge him enough—prepare him enough?
All of these questions blocked out the utterance of Seth’s; their quiet companion, Eliana, seemed not to have heard it, either. Her delicate brow was scrunched as she stared idly at their plates, not bothering to touch her own. Tray had seen people with dyed hair before, but the deep blue of this girl’s silky locks looked so natural that it appeared even more unnatural to him.
In this room, though, she didn’t stand out. The majority of the students had wild hair colors, and they all wore the same uniform: a plain, white t-shirt with the “Periculand Training School” logo, along with a pair of fitted cargo pants that Tray had deduced must be colored according to Affinity class. While his and Seth’s were burnt orange, Eliana’s were plum purple, signifying their classes as Physical and Mental, respectively.
“Shocking she didn’t just murder him on the spot,” his brother went on when no one responded. Tray managed to pull himself out of his ponderings at that comment. Adara wanting to murder someone seemed like something he would, reluctantly, have to deal with. “Ever since he disappeared, she’s always said that, next time she saw him, she’d kill him.”
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