Alessandra (#1, Omega Beginnings Miniseries) (3 page)

“We can have midnight tea.”

If you wish it.
He set Mrs. Nettles on the ground and reached for
the gem at his neck.
If you should need
me, I will come.
He handed it to
me.

“This is beautiful,” I murmured and accepted
the gem. It appeared small on him but took up most of my palm. “I
will take care of it.”

I know you will.
His wings swept away from me as he rose.
I must go, little one.

“So soon?”

Yes. I have been asleep for a very long time
and have forgotten this world. There are people and places I must
visit. But I will return to you soon.

“My birthday is in two days. Will you be
back in time?”

Yes.

“We’ll have cake, and you can take me and
Mrs. Nettles flying.”

I do not feel Mrs. Nettles wishes to
fly.

Mrs. Nettles hid behind my
leg, her face pressed to my thigh. “Well, you can take
me
flying,” I decided.
“Mrs. Nettles will make us tea.”

I agree, little one. I must go.

“Okay. Goodbye, Mismatch.” I curtseyed to
him once more.

Goodbye, little one. I
will see you on your birthday.
He bowed
and then stepped back from me to unfurl his wings.

He leapt into the sky. I watched him,
enthralled and delighted by the sight of my gargoyle flying in the
night. He disappeared into the clouds rolling in for another spring
storm. I stood in the backyard, gaze on the sky.

My
gargoyle. He was beautiful. I closed my hand around the gem
and swept up Mrs. Nettles into a hug before dashing back to my
room.

I missed my bus the next morning, and it was
raining. Not that I wanted to go to school anyway. I had an
appointment with the principal to discuss my outburst at the
temple.

I had thought Wednesday was my worst day
ever, but Thursday was, too.

Watching my bus turn a corner, I debated
going inside and telling my dad I needed a ride to school. Mama was
always good about it, but she went to work early today, and Daddy
would lecture me.

If I ended up late, I was going to be in
even more trouble. Upset already, I turned around and trudged home.
Wet and shivering in the spring weather, I started up the sidewalk
to our house when I heard the sirens. I turned to see several
police cars, trailed by a large black van, barreling down the
street.

“Lyssa, what’re you doing?” my father asked,
emerging from the house.

“I missed the bus,” I told him and pointed
towards the vehicles. “Do you think someone is hurt?”

He approached and rested his hands on my
shoulders. When he didn’t answer, I peered up at him.

“Daddy, do you think someone is hurt?” I
asked again, shouting to be heard over the sirens.

Daddy didn’t seem to hear
me. He was staring at the oncoming cars the way I did Halloween
masks at the store. I
hated
Halloween. The more scared I got, the more
monsters left my nightmares to roam around the neighborhood, and
the longer I was grounded for not controlling them.

Daddy’s fingers dug into my shoulders the
nearer the vehicles came.

They whipped by our house and screeched to a
halt three houses down, at the Adderleys, where my nightmare
monsters went to hide last time.

“Daddy!” I complained and wriggled.

“Sorry, Lyssa.” He released me and smiled
without taking his eyes off the emergency vehicles. “Let’s get you
to school.”

The day went as badly as I expected. Hours
later, I made tea while filling in Mrs. Nettles about the
principal, getting teased by a stupid boy, Shelby Lane stealing my
crayons and having a runny nose after the rain that morning.

Listening, Mrs. Nettles sat on the counter
while I microwaved my tea. I helped her down and let her grab our
pudding. Then we both climbed up the stairs to my room with snacks
and tea. I turned on the television.

“Look, Mrs.
Nettles!
American Oracle
is on!” A spinoff of the singing
competition,
American Idol,
the talent show was about teenage girls who
thought they could be the next Oracle of Delphi. I sat too close to
the television, not caring if I was caught or not. Mama had refused
to let me watch this when it came on Sunday night, and it was all
the kids at school talked about. Even our teacher had seen
it.

I punched buttons on the remote control
until the DVR came on so I could record it.

“Who will be the
next
American Oracle?
” the host asked, facing the screen. “Judges have selected
the most promising young women to replace the dying Oracle of
Delphi. Ten hopefuls are present for our debut season, but only one
will be chosen by
you
to represent America to the gods in Greece! If she wins, she
will become the voice of the gods, the opener of the gateway
between heaven and earth … and so much more! Are you ready to meet
the candidates?”

“YES!” I screeched along with the crowd.

Ten teenaged women were led onto the stage,
and each was told to give her name and what her magical power
was.

I strained to see the ribbons around each
girl. Some said they could read minds or move objects with their
thoughts. Others claimed they could give inanimate objects life or
absorb magic or other magical powers I didn’t understand.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I
said, pointing out each girl. “No, no … maybe.” I tilted my head.
Only one girl had four ribbons. The girl labeled
Lilian
had a green
ribbon so faint, I could barely make it out. “Mrs. Nettles, what do
you think?” I twisted to see her lapping up the creamer at the
center of our tray of tea. “Mrs. Nettles! Pay
attention!”

I took the pot of creamer away.

She joined me.

“Her.” I pointed once more.

Mrs. Nettles shook her head.

“Hmm. They all look normal,” I said. “Maybe
the Oracle has normal ribbons, too?”

Mrs. Nettles shook her head again. She
climbed to her feet and waddled to the scrapbook collection I had
hidden away about the Oracle of Delphi, the only human in the world
with the power of a god. Once found and tested, she disappeared.
Mama said she went to work with the gods doing good. Daddy said the
Oracle should never be spoken of.

Which was why I hid the newspaper and
magazine clippings Mama brought me, so he wouldn’t find them. He
always got upset when I mentioned the Oracle.

Mrs. Nettles brought me one of my scrapbooks
and set it down. I picked it up and flipped through it to find
pictures of the current Oracle of Delphi. She hadn’t been seen in
thirty years. The pictures of her were all older and her clothing
was funny. Normally, I wasn’t able to see ribbons on pictures, but
I saw hers, because she was magical.

“Six,” I said and counted. “I guess you’re
right. None of them have six.” The Oracle had a green ribbon like
mine. I put the book away. “But maybe they still can do wonderful
things.”

Mrs. Nettles brought me a toy dragon.

“You want to play?” I asked.

She set it down on the scrapbook.

“Okay, but don’t bite his tail off this
time. You really hurt him.” I brought the dragon to life for her to
play with and returned to watching the show. “I bet the Oracle
never gets yelled at by the principal,” I said grumpily.

I watched the
two-hour
American Oracle
premiere over. And over. And over. Four times
total, before Mrs. Nettles’ snoring jarred me out of my utter
fascination with the girls.

Pushing myself off my belly, I looked around
my dark room briefly before crossing to turn on the lights. It was
nine o’clock. My parents hadn’t yelled up at me to say they were
home. Mrs. Nettles was lying on her back, the toy dragon curled on
her stomach. Both were asleep.

I left my room and stood at the top of the
stairs. The house was completely dark. Flipping on the lights of
the stairwell, I held the railing as I made my way to the bottom
floor. This had happened once or twice before. My parents sometimes
had to work late. They usually called and left me a message when
they did.

Turning on lights as I went, I returned to
the kitchen and climbed on top of a chair so I could reach the
answering machine on the counter. The light was flickering. I
pushed play.

“Baby …” Mama’s voice was hushed. She almost
sounded sad. “I need you to do two things for me. One, delete this
voicemail when it’s over. Press the button with the red x like I
showed you that one time. Two, you remember the special hiding
place we send you to when bad storms come? Grab your emergency bag
out of the pantry. Take Mrs. Nettle and go hide in the storm center
the moment you receive this message. Don’t come out until Saturday
morning. The storm will be over by then. Call your grandma from the
cell phone in your emergency pack and tell her to come get you.
Okay? Listen to this again until you’re sure you know what to do
and then delete it. We love you, Baby, so much.”

At first I was worried about the storm, and
then I recalled that tomorrow was my birthday. My parents were
planning something huge for me – and it involved my grandma.
Excited, I listened dutifully until certain I understood exactly
what Mama wanted me to do before I deleted the recording.

Darting to the pantry, I found the emergency
pack labeled with my name. It was a small backpack I was supposed
to take with me if there was a bad storm, which happened often in
spring. My parents took storms and tornadoes seriously. We
practiced hiding in a safe place once a month.

We all had emergency packs, and theirs were
present still. I didn’t think twice about it. They had packs in
their cars, if there really was a storm. And if not, if they were
planning a surprise party for me, they wouldn’t need them anyway. I
put the backpack on eagerly.

Assuming their absence was tied to them
waiting for me to hide so they could plan, I hurried up the stairs
to my room fast enough that I tripped and banged my shin. Ignoring
the pain, I made it to my room.

“Mrs. Nettles! We have to hide!” I
exclaimed. I picked her up quickly and descended to the main floor
before heading to the basement and the storm shelter. The hidden
underground space was half the size of the ground floor of our
house. It had a small kitchen, a big bed for my parents, a bunk bed
for me, a bathroom, and even a television in the living area. The
entrance was hidden under a tile in the floor.

I put Mrs. Nettles on the floor. Placing my
hand on the secret panel to open the door, I was barely able to
stand still. Mrs. Nettles pawed at me and pointed towards the
upstairs.

“Oh! We left Thor out!” I said, recalling
the dragon. “It’s okay. Mama and Daddy can make sure he stays in my
room. I’ll turn him back on Saturday before my parteeeeeeee!” The
last word ended in a squeal.

Mrs. Nettles lifted her arms so I could
carry her down the ladder into the storm shelter. I reached the
bottom and closed the door. The lights went on automatically, and I
sighed, happy and exited about my party after my bad day.

I went to bed soon after arriving in the
shelter. Mrs. Nettles and I lay down in my parents’ bed to be sure
I woke up if they came down.

They didn’t.

During our monthly drills, they sometimes
told me I might be alone for a long time down here but that they’d
always come find me. I was supposed to sit put and watch my
favorite movies and drink tea until they returned.

It was Friday, my birthday. I was a little
disappointed to wake up and find they weren’t there, and Daddy
hadn’t made me my birthday waffles. The knowledge they were
planning a surprise party soon swept away my concern.

I spent the morning
watching movies, the
American
Oracle
premiere again and drinking tea.
Mama had taught me how to microwave food and make sandwiches, so I
did both for Mrs. Nettles and me while we waited for the day to
pass.

I followed Mama’s instructions and knew they
were planning something for me, but I still felt lonely. I hadn’t
brought down any other stuffies aside from Mrs. Nettles. They were
my favorite to play with, my only friends.

After an afternoon nap and two more Disney
movies, I was bored. I dumped my emergency backpack onto the bed to
see its contents. Sorting food from toys and the phone, I smiled as
I saw the card my mama had included. She hadn’t written anything
except for a heart on the inside.

Pulling out my notebook and crayons, I
practiced drawing hearts. I was learning to write but wasn’t very
good at it.

I wasn’t very good at anything in school,
even arts and crafts. My teacher said I’d grow out of my temper and
impatience and not to worry, because one day, I’d catch up to the
others. Until then, I was special in my own way.

“What do you think, Mrs. Nettles?” I asked
and pointed to the heart that took me a long time to complete. “It
almost looks like Mama’s.”

Mrs. Nettles shook her head.

“Okay. I’ll keep trying.” I scribbled over
it.

Mrs. Nettles picked up a crayon and drew a
diamond. She tapped it.

“What?” I asked, gazing at it.

She drew the moon, a bird, a house …

“Oh!” I sat up quickly. “Mismatch’s
gift!”

She nodded.

“But Mama said …” I drifted off, beginning
to panic about the gift I’d left upstairs. What if it was swept
away in a storm? It was so beautiful, and it was from my gargoyle.
“Mrs. Nettles! Mismatch is supposed to be here tonight! I can’t
tell him I lost it.”