Fractured Light (6 page)

The only other option was my aunt Sophie, my mom’s sister. She had offered, but she also wanted me to move to New York to attend Lucent Academy, where she served on the board. I wasn’t ready for that. Attending Lucent would’ve been like an announcement to the world, and maybe myself, that I was different. No, I chose to stay with Jake. Jake was safe—depressed—but still safe.

I closed my bedroom door and cranked the music. Because I hadn’t heard a thing in math class, I opened my book and began to read over the lesson, which looked like it was written in hieroglyphics. I hated math, but I had to get a good grade. I’d been left with plenty of money, but I didn’t want to spend a dime of it on college. I figured if there were people out there who’d give me money for an education, then I was going to try and get it.

I rolled onto my stomach thinking a different position would help me retain more information. My gaze moved to the inexplicably rising hair on my arm. Weird. Then my heart began to pound. I tried to swallow, but it got stuck in my throat as if I was trying to jam an orange down my trachea.

Instinctively, I looked toward my window. I couldn’t see anything beyond the darkness, but all my Auran senses told me I was being watched. Stop it! I closed my eyes and shook my head. No one is out there. But to be sure, I stood up and looked outside.

There was just enough light from the half-moon that I could see the previous owner’s metal swing set. One of the three swings was swaying back and forth as if someone had just jumped from it. You’re being paranoid, I told myself.

I shook my head and walked to the kitchen to get a drink but couldn’t find any clean glasses. They were all piled up in the sink along with the rest of our dirty dishes. This is getting ridiculous. I turned on the faucet and waited for the water to get hot while I unloaded the dishwasher. By the time I was almost done loading, Jake finally woke up.

“Could you be a little louder?” he said half-intelligibly through a yawn. His worn Levi’s had a big grease stain on the thigh and his wrinkly red shirt looked like crepe paper. He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk, drinking it straight from the plastic jug.

“Can you not do that?” I asked.

He lowered the jug. “There’s no cups.”

“You could wash one.”

He looked at me and blinked. “What did you do today?” His shaggy brown hair, which hadn’t been cut in months, looked like road kill.

“I went to school.” I poured dish detergent into the dishwasher and closed the door.

“So how’s your senior year going?’

“It’s going.” I opened the pantry and pulled out a Twinkie.

“Can I have one?” he asked.

I grabbed a second Twinkie and tossed it to him. “Isn’t this like breakfast for you?”

He chuckled. “I guess. So tell me about your classes?”

“Regular school classes.”

“Meet any friends?”

“No.”

“Any boys?”

“Double no.”

He frowned. “You really need to get a social life. This is your senior year. You should have some fun.”

“
You’re
telling me to get a life?” I walked past him into the living room and sat down on the couch. The television came to life.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Without turning to him, I said, “Last time I checked, twenty-six-year-old men are supposed to have jobs.”

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I was going to apply this week.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for months.”

“It’s not like I was sitting around. I had school.”

“You took one online class about making websites. That’s not the same as being in school.”

He scratched his head. “Why are you being so grumpy? Did you have a bad day?”

I groaned and flipped through the channels, trying to find something to distract me from the fight I felt brewing.

“So, you’re not talking to me now?” he said through a mouthful of Twinkie.

“Go back to your video games,” I mumbled.

He waited a minute before walking back to his room.

I should feel bad, but I didn’t. I’d put up with his crap for so long it was only a matter of time before I really blew up.

*     *     *     *     *

It was a sunny Tuesday morning. I hated Tuesdays. As far as I was concerned, Tuesdays could be removed from the days of the week and no one would ever notice. I swung my feet over the bed and slipped them into matted blue slippers to avoid the cold, wood floor. After getting dressed in record time, I left my room feeling invincible. Must be a full moon tonight.

On the way to the kitchen, I peeked in on Jake. He still slept, covers pulled high over his head. The room smelled like sour milk and old pizza. On the TV, a chef skewered a halved banana. The comic potential drew me into the room, but the rank smell stopped me. I sighed and closed the door. Ever since our fight, I’d done my best to avoid him. This made the past few weeks endurable, but lonely.

I picked up my backpack from the hall closet and flung it over my shoulder, barely feeling the weight of the four thick textbooks it contained, and then grabbed an apple. My body pulsated with so much energy that I decided to run to school. It was hard to control my body with my muscles firing away, and only extreme exercise helped relieve the prickly sensation.

I laced up my tennis shoes and stepped outside into the cool, morning air. The sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the golden trees; a few birds chirped its arrival. I didn’t bother stretching. My leg muscles knew what was coming, and they hummed beneath my skin.

Across the street, my overweight neighbor suddenly opened his door. His tattered robe gaped open, revealing saggy man boobs that fell nearly to his navy blue boxers. As he bent over to grab a newspaper, the two flaps of skin hung from his chest like slabs of beef. I couldn’t help but stare. Distracted, I took my first step, but when my foot came down it pressed upon something other than flat concrete. My ankle twisted, and I fell to the ground.

Lying on the porch, only a foot from my front door, was a woman’s shoe. And not one I recognized. It was far too nice to belong to me. It was red with at least three-inch heels, and extremely narrow. It definitely wasn’t my shoe. Even if I bound my feet in Chinese foot wrappings for months, permanently deforming them, my brick-like stubs wouldn’t ever fit into such a shoe.

I placed the dainty high heel to the side of the porch, wondering where it had come from. I knew it didn’t belong to any lady friend of Jake’s—as if he had any. No woman would tolerate a man who woke up at noon and played video games all day, breaking only for food and the bathroom.

I stood up and brushed dirt from the back of my sweats. Maybe it would be gone when I returned later. I hoped so. I didn’t know what to do with the thing. I felt guilty throwing away such an expensive shoe.

My legs jumped. “All right. I’m going,” I said to no one.

After pulling my jacket hood over my head, I took off in a sprint, not stopping for anything. It felt exhilarating running at full speed, and not getting the least bit winded. I leapt over fences, slid over parked cars, sidestepped traffic. At one point, to turn a corner sharply, I ran up the side of a brick wall and then twirled in the air, completing a perfect 360. I felt like a freerunner.

The people up this early, the dog walkers, joggers, or other kids on their way to school, stared in awe as if I weren’t human. I didn’t stop to think how I was drawing attention to myself until I heard a little boy cry, “Look, Mommy—Supergirl!”

I stopped in my tracks, suddenly frightened by my behavior. What was I thinking?

After collecting myself, I forced my somewhat relaxed body back onto the sidewalk. My muscles received the burst of energy they required, but I knew it was only a matter of hours, if not minutes, before they’d need it again. I removed my hood and smoothed my hair into a neat ponytail. Casually, I proceeded down the street as if I was nothing more than an average seventeen-year-old girl on her way to high school.

At Highland High the halls were beginning to fill. The first bell wouldn’t ring for another fifteen minutes. I’d arrived too early. Now what was I going to do?

I was about to close my locker and head to the library when all of a sudden Christian appeared. Why? Why? Why? I closed my eyes and wished him away. When I opened them back up, he was still there, wearing a blue shirt and black suit jacket. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen him, but that would’ve been very difficult to do seeing how he was standing directly in front of me.

“Hey, Llona.”

“Hey.” I looked past him down the hall. Maybe if I appeared like I was waiting for someone, he’d leave me alone. His sudden interest in me the last few weeks made me nervous.

Accidentally, my eyes passed over his. A lone speck of brown in his right, blue eye stood out like my uncle Jake at a Celine Dion concert. Inwardly, I groaned. Why did I have to see that speck?

“So basketball tryouts are today, right?” he asked.

“That’s what I hear.” Act casual.

“Weren’t you on the team last year?”

“Much to everyone’s dismay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, I’ll make it all right, but give it two weeks and the coach will wish I hadn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

Why am I saying so much? More answers lead to more questions. Trying not to appear too frantic, I glanced around for a way out of this conversation mess. I wasn’t on my game today.

My savior came in the form of a three hundred pound linebacker who looked like he’d just eaten a dozen powdered doughnuts. White dust sprinkled the corners of his mouth. Wow. I thought guys like him only existed on the Disney Channel.

“Hey C. Where were you last night?”

Christian turned around. This is my chance. I quickly dove in line with other students on their way to first hour.

I moved fast, maneuvering my way in and out of them like an Indy race car driver. My muscles screamed for more of a release, but I refrained from pulling any stunts like I had earlier. I didn’t stop walking until I reached my government class.

I was the first student in the room, even beating Mr. Allen. A television high up in the corner of the room was quietly tuned to the local morning news. I ignored it and opened my book. I pretended to read, but stopped when my exceptional hearing heard the chipper news lady say, “Her body was found at approximately 5:00 a.m.”—the reporter pointed to the side of a country road—“by a man on his morning run. According to the man, the woman’s throat had been cut, but authorities have not yet confirmed cause of death. Because the woman had no identification, the police have asked us to notify our viewers of her description in hopes someone may come forward to identify her. The deceased woman is described as 5’7”, 130 pounds, midthirties, with red hair and blue eyes. She was found wearing a short black cocktail dress, black nylons, and one red high-heeled shoe.”

T
HE REPORTER CONTINUED TALKING, BUT ALL
I
COULD HEAR
was a sudden buzzing in my ears. I found a shoe. A red shoe. On my front porch.

The humming continued, causing an instant headache. I breathed deeply and waited for the pain to pass. Over the high pitch ringing, the muffled sounds of students filled my head as they filed into the room, but I could no longer distinguish one sound from another. The walls around me shifted and my eyes lost focus. Then, as the teacher stood to take his place in front of the class, I bolted. I’d never freaked out before, but if these were the beginning signs of a major freakapalooza, I’d prefer to do it without any witnesses.

Walking quickly, yet cautiously, my hand against the wall, I headed for the double doors at the end of the hallway. My vision failed, making everything around me look like a scene from Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.”

“It’s just a shoe!” I yelled at myself. “A freaking shoe! Calm down!”

A garbage can sprung at me from nowhere, and I stumbled. Behind me, a gentle touch pressed against my back.

“Are you all right?” I heard a male voice ask, the sound slightly distorted. Please, heaven, let it be a teacher. I turned around slowly, my eyes searching for clarity. I couldn’t see distinct features, but by the way his hair fell to the side of his head, I knew it was Christian.