Over Easy

by T L Christianson

  But what was the connection? Or maybe there were several connections…

  No. There weren’t links between these things. I was jumping to conclusions and making a mess of things. I tried to tie everything up in a neat little bow, but life didn’t work like that.

  Or… did it?

  This is weird isn’t it? Having two kids fifteen years apart? I asked my dragon.

  “What are you up to?” came Logan’s voice from behind me, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

  The boy needed a bell!

  I covered the page with one of my gloved hands, “Oh, nothing much. What are you doing?”

  Logan shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Jadrig says you’re irritated. No luck with the yearbooks?”

  I pressed my lips together, wondering what other secrets I was accidentally spilling to Logan’s beast. “You haven’t seen anyone around them, have you? They were all there the other day when I first looked, but now the only one I didn’t look at in detail is the only one that can answer some of my questions.”

  Logan’s brows drew together. “You’re sure it’s gone? Could you have returned it to the wrong place? Or maybe a student librarian put it in the wrong area.”

  I shook my head. “No. I put it back where I found it.”

  He sucked in a breath and settled down into a chair beside me, motioning to the book in my white cotton gloved hands. “So, what’s up with the family book?”

  I’d been wrong about Durand, jumping to crazy conclusions—what else could I be wrong about?

  I needed to stick to the facts—to what I knew. Logan had ideas before, so maybe he could help me again.

  Closing the book, I met his gaze. “I’ve heard of Primes getting kidnapped. But I haven’t seen anything concrete in the modern era. Have you heard of anything like that recently? A kidnapping?”

  He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Primes? Or Prime girls? That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it? Are you afraid that something’s going to happen to you?”

  I shrugged. “No…” Jadrig nudged at my mind, and I let out an irritated laugh. “Don’t, Logan. I swear to God, don’t try that shit on me.”

  Logan shrugged, a smile curving one corner of his mouth. “Then don’t lie. What’s really going on? Does this have something to do with your mom?”

  He watched me patiently with those greenish hazel eyes as I spoke, “Fine. Yes, it’s about my mom. She was kidnapped when she was around my age. You heard about her death—did you hear anything about that?”

  His eyes swept the room in thought. “Hmmm… I can’t think of anything specific, but I’ve heard it’s happened.” He tapped his teeth together before continuing. “Um… try the Dragonborn Daily—it’s the local newspaper. It’s only online now, but I bet they have Microfiche from past editions here in the library. You’ll need a librarian to get them for you, but I believe they still have a viewer in one of the computer labs in the back.”

  “It hasn’t been digitized?” I groaned.

  He pursed his lips and shrugged, “I’d guess not, but you never know.”

  “What’s micro fish?”

  Logan laughed, “Microfiche is like a sheet of tiny photographic negatives. You put it in a machine, and it shows up on the screen before you. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Once again, Logan had come to the rescue.

  I followed him up the stairs toward the librarian’s desk. She sat at the counter, head resting atop her folded arms, and snores floated up into the silent, cavernous space.

  Logan and I exchanged a look, and then he checked his phone.

  “The library closes in a few minutes. I don’t think she’ll get it out for us even if we wake her.”

  I blew out a breath. “Shit.”

  He frowned, “It’ll be okay. We can come back tomorrow. Besides, I’m here every day working on my thesis. Find me after school, and I’ll help you.”

  I nodded, feeling defeated and bitter. This had been a shitty day from start to finish. I was frustrated with Ashe for not understanding, angry at Calla for hiding things, and mad at myself for not being more assertive.

  When Logan’s hand ran the length of my arm, I startled but didn’t pull away. He was the one bright spot for me. Someone willing to help me find the answers I needed.

  Logan treated me like an equal.

  “All right, tomorrow?” I asked, forcing a smile to show my gratitude.

  He spoke just above a whisper so as not to wake the librarian, smiling that Captain America smile. “Tomorrow. You’ll find what you’re looking for… and the yearbook? I’m sure we’ll find that too.”

  “Thanks, I mean it.”

  He shook his head, and a quiet laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah, no problem.”

  8

  That night I lay in my bed listening to my roommates’ snores. The whole abduction and Durand thing weighed on me.

  I couldn’t count on instincts alone. I had to look at the facts.

  And one real thing was that Celine disappeared and came back changed. That had happened.

  Thinking of the abduction reminded me of my last conversation with Ashe. He didn’t want me to look into Celine’s past—why? Did he have ulterior motives, or was it because he knew something he didn’t want me to know?

  Was I putting my trust in another person who would only let me down?

  Ashe was angry when I’d insisted on leaving New York so quickly. He thought we should stay for a few days and try to talk to George another time. After all, we’d both moved heaven and earth to visit this guy—and for what? For me to get one answer and leave. After reading the encoded message from George, I knew Ashe was right. We should’ve stayed longer. I should’ve gone back without Ashe and Taya. George would’ve talked to me.

  I was making stupid decisions—not staying in New York, not looking at my mom’s 7th-year yearbook when I had the chance, and thinking that Durand was my brother. It was all so stupid.

  How could I trust myself at all?

  My mind circled back to the last time I saw George. At the time, I needed comfort and reassurance—I needed answers. I expected George to tell me he was my father, and he loved me and would explain things. I’d expected logic and kindness, but once inside his room, the man I called dad had turned into a stranger. And when he looked at me, his face had been contorted with a horribly twisted expression.

  His disgust hung in the room like those dust particles. He looked at me like I’d done something awful, like I was the criminal.

  Ashe had been right. I should’ve gone back. But I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that look on his face and that glower of disappointment.

  All of it haunted me. How could George have done that after writing the letter? Maybe he’d changed his mind, maybe he didn’t love me anymore and really wanted to abandon me.

  Then there were the other things he’d said about my mother and the Dragonborn. What if even a tiny part of that was true?

  Had my mother really not wanted me to be raised as Dragonborn? Why? Were the Dragonborn really dangerous? Maybe.

  I still couldn’t sleep with all these thoughts in my head, so I decided to get up. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hit the cold wood floor with a quiet thump.

  Rubbing my eyes, I grabbed my messenger bag and tiptoed out the door and down the dimly lit hall to the girls’ bathroom. Once inside, I splashed some water on my cheeks.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I tried to see if there was anything different about my appearance. My blue eyes were bloodshot and ringed with circles. My wavy hair hung in messy waves around my gaunt face. Ashe was right; I needed to eat and sleep more.

  But, I hadn’t been able to sleep since returning. First, it was my dad, now my mom too.

  Was George really going to abandon me?

  I knew he’d been a complete prick, but I still missed him. I thought that maybe he’d show up, tell me everything was a misunderstanding, tell me everything would
be all right, and take me home. I wanted him to look at me the way he’d done when I mastered some process in the lab or a complicated equation.

  Pulling a notebook out of my bag, I began writing a letter to George. I’d have to encode it like he had done, so I made it simple:

  George,

  You say you love me and miss me. Is that still true even after I saw you in New York? If so, I need answers from you. Your last letter was ruined, but I get the code now. Please tell me about Celine and the Stygian ritual. I love you, and I miss you.

  Sydney.

  It took me two hours to write that stupid letter in code, but if George hadn’t changed his mind, then I’d finally get the answers I was looking for.

  Shuffling back to my dorm, I found Taya’s bed empty.

  I checked my phone—five in the morning. She’d probably gone for a run.

  I snuck a peek at Becca’s sleeping form on the other side before grabbing my laptop and slipping back into the hall. I was too worked up and my mind too busy.

  Sliding down the wall in the empty corridor, I typed into the search bar on my computer the year and month my mom had been abducted, along with her name.

  Surprisingly I found one actual article about my mom.

  I clicked on the first one from a small paper and read it quietly aloud. “Local girl, Celine Lambert, age 15, went missing yesterday. Police say they found her Walkman and wallet along a path she usually ran. If you have any information, please phone local authorities.

  Celine was a runner? Oh yeah, cross country. I scrunched up my nose. Maybe I should start running…

  I examined the photo in the article of my mom. She sat on a porch swing, her hand on the head of a drooling golden retriever. Celine looked like she’d been caught off guard during a happy moment, her mouth open in a wide smile.

  I tried several different search words, but nothing else popped up.

  Why wasn’t there anything about her return or her discovery?

  None of the other articles that popped up had anything to do with my mother. I clicked several pages down but found nothing.

  You’d think that her safe return would be news.

  Maybe she had run away, and the family was embarrassed.

  I checked the time; it was almost six, and everyone would start getting up.

  If I didn’t want to wait for a shower, I’d have to go now. Grabbing my toiletry kit, I headed down the hall and back to the bathroom.

  The morning dragged on, and by lunchtime, I was tempted to go to the library ahead of time.

  But when Olivia saw me beginning to head that way, she grabbed my arm and steered me toward the cafeteria.

  “Where’s your shadow?” She asked.

  “Oh, Taya?” I frowned. “Why…. It’s not like I need a babysitter.”

  “But aren’t you worried about it? Aren’t you curious about where she goes or what she does?” Liv asked, picking a hair off my sweater.

  I scoffed, “No. Maybe she has a boyfriend, or maybe she’s just as sick and tired of me as I am of her. I finally have some freedom, so I’m not about to go and jinx it by interrogating her.”

  “It’s just odd. Don’t you think?” Liv pursed her lips as she contemplated me.

  I shrugged.

  “You know, depression can be caused by not eating,” she said in a mothering tone.

  I raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Well, if you don’t eat, you’re not gonna be able to keep up your strength for all that time spent in the library!”

  We picked up our trays and bundles of silverware before heading to the central buffet station. It usually served hamburgers, hotdogs, and chicken.

  I plucked up a veggie patty with tongs and slid it into a bun before adding a scoop of diced potatoes.

  As we neared our usual table, Nate and another 6th year sat across from our usual spot.

  “What the heck? Why is Nate here?” I asked her under my breath.

  Liv gave me a shy smile and whispered, “I’m giving him another chance, please be nice.”

  “Okay…” I told her with a raised eyebrow as I squeezed into the table.

  Even though my body was there at the lunch table, my mind was somewhere else. My link to Ashe was always there—that thread that enabled me to sense him. But since the council ruling, he’d closed me off, so now I only felt his strongest feelings.

  The bond seemed to pull at my chest, painfully, and having to wait to complete it made each day harder. Most of the time, I could block it out, but not today.

  Ashe was thinking about me. Through our bond, I could feel him humming with electricity, lighting up our connection with fiery jolts of energy. It was intoxicating and frustrating all at the same time. Where was he? What was he doing?

  I pushed around my diced potatoes and tore my burger apart with my fingers.

  Trying to ignore Olivia and Nate’s flirty conversation, I gazed out across the room and looked for Lacy Bryant, Ashe’s ex-girlfriend. Ever since she’d cornered me when I first got here, I’d kept an eye on her and kept my distance.

  I wanted her to be happy, just not with Ashe.

  Finally, with my burger in pieces and the other food looking just as unappetizing, I gave up on eating. Standing, I crossed the Main Hall and waved to Liv before putting my tray up on the way out. She’d be fine. She was with Nate, after all.

  Walking as quickly as I could, I headed to the library and straight to the yearbook section.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I searched again.

  It was still missing, but what did I expect? For it to show up magically?

  I asked for the book again but was given a shake of the head by the student aide.

  This was it. I was done being messed with by everyone else in my life. I wanted that damn book, and I would get it back.

  Steeling myself, I strode as quickly as possible to the side stairway in Wyvern before taking the steps two at a time to the fourth floor. At the top, I was wheezing and red-faced as I continued down the hallway to Mrs. Moorhead’s office.

  Knocking quietly, I waited for Calla to answer. After knocking again with no response, I listened—the room was empty. Scanning the hallway, I found it was also empty. I gripped the doorknob and twisted—it was unlocked, and the door swung open. Slipping inside, I made a beeline to the desk. Papers, books, and texts littered the desk, and I rummaged through them, but there was no yearbook.

  Pulling the chair out, I sat and began opening each drawer. Pens, pencils, files, snacks, a bottle of whip cream flavored vodka… I opened the top and sniffed, then set it back on the desk.

  Leaning back in the chair, I sighed. The room was lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, and cardboard boxes filled with papers and who knew what else. It would take a year of searching to find anything in here.

  Taking a long sip of the vodka, I screwed the top back on and replaced it in the snack drawer.

  Where could the yearbook be?

  Every drawer was unlocked except one. I tugged and tugged at it, but it didn’t budge.

  The muffled chime startled me from the hallway, signaling the end of lunch. I needed to get out of here—now!

  Quickly, I tried to arrange everything the way it had been before rushing to the door. But just as I turned the knob, voices in the hallway stopped me cold. After waiting several seconds, a realization dawned on me. The hallway would only fill with more people. I had to take my chances now before it became busier.

  Pulling the door open, I ran smack into Mrs. Moorhead.

  For a moment, we just stared at each other—me in horror and her in surprise.

  “What are you doing in my office?” She demanded, her voice high and fluttery.

  My jaw dropped, and my brain froze.

  Don’t lie. She’ll see right through you, Aaraeth purred in my ear.

  If I tell her the truth, I’ll never get the yearbook back, I responded.

  Two things may be true at
the same time. Use another truth.

  Another truth? I asked.

  “Well,” Calla asked. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to answer me?”

  When my voice finally began to work, I stuttered, “I... I… I’m sorry about the other day.”

  “Hmmm, let me guess? You were going to leave me a note but then…”

  “But I realized how bad it would look that I’d gone inside your office when you weren’t here… so I….”

  Calla’s face softened—only a bit, and she uncrossed her arms before passing me and making her way behind the desk. “Well, you’re right; it does look bad. Don’t ever, ever go into a teacher’s office when they aren’t there.”

  She sat down in her swivel chair as I loitered in the doorway.

  “I won’t,” I promised her.

  “I was thinking about you too.” She chewed the end of her pen. “Out of curiosity, what were you going to apologize for?”

  My eyes roamed over the clutter scattered across the top of her desk before meeting her gaze. “I knew I upset you asking about Celine. I’m sorry for bringing it all up.”

  I was sorry until she took the book.

  Calla’s mouth curved into a thoughtful frown. “It was a lot to learn. I’m sorry too. I probably shouldn’t have told you everything I did.”

  I closed the distance to her desk and leaned my hip against it, “No. I mean, it was sad, but I’m glad I know. I feel like if I knew more about her, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

  What had started out as a bullshit apology had quickly grown into an honest conversation. Maybe if she understood why I was looking into my mom’s life, she’d return the book.

  “I’ve also got to figure out who my real father is,” I told her.

  “Your real father?”

  I sat and stared at my hands in my lap. “George isn’t my real dad. He admitted that to me.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “For what? Everyone told me he wasn’t. But, I feel like everyone’s acting like it’s no big deal.”

  “I assure you it’s not.” She cleared her throat. “Anyhow, I wanted to show you something.”