Struck (16 page)

In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet to brush my teeth. Nothing happened. There was only a dry chugging of pipes. The water was off again. Great start to what was bound to be another in a series of bad days. I would have to skip a few steps in my morning routine, but oh well. Who was I trying to impress? Not Jeremy, stalker with aspirations of murder.

I hadn’t made good on my threat to call the police and report his B&E&IK (intended knifing), but I had a feeling Jeremy wouldn’t be breaking into my house again anytime soon. Still, I had another feeling I hadn’t seen the last of him.

I climbed into an outfit that looked identical to what I’d worn the day before—black turtleneck, black jeans, black boots, black fingerless gloves—realized I wasn’t sure they
weren’t
the same clothes I’d worn yesterday, realized I didn’t care, and headed downstairs.

I’d thought I would be the only one awake so early, but I could hear someone in the kitchen. I figured it was Parker. He thought he still had an initiation invitation. I steeled myself for the reaction I was bound to get when he heard how and why things had changed.

I stepped into the kitchen and blinked in surprise. Mom stood at the counter, not Parker. She was dressed in clean clothes, and her hair was pulled back, not hanging greasy in her face as it usually was, hiding her scars. Now they were fully revealed, a pink slash across her forehead, one below her left eye, and a series of them striking her right cheek.

“Morning,” Mom said, smiling at me. Two pieces of toast jumped from their toaster slots. At least the electricity was still on. Mom grabbed them, set them on a plate, and inserted two more pieces of bread. “Do we have any butter or jam left?”

I shook my head. I was having trouble accessing basic vocabulary words like “yes” and “no.”

Mom made a face. “Dry toast. Hm. Well, I made oatmeal, too.” She indicated three bowls of congealing beige mush on the kitchen table.

“Mom?” I said as she stacked the toast on a plate.

She looked up at me. “Hm?”

I wasn’t sure what I’d meant to say, so I didn’t say anything. Instead I surprised both of us by wrapping my arms around her and hugging her. For a split second she tensed, as though afraid I might hurt her. Then she relaxed and gathered me closer to her.

“I love you, Mom,” I told her.

“I love you, too, Mia,” she said in a whisper, like she wanted to keep it between us.

She thinks you’re cursed
, a nasty little voice reminded me.

Parker appeared in the doorway, dressed for school. When he saw us, he stared, looking as dumbstruck as I’d felt a moment before.

“Hungry?” Mom asked him.

“Starved,” he said. His eyes met mine for a moment and he grinned. Remembering the deal I had made with Katrina last night, I did not return his smile.

“I have to be at school early,” I told him, taking my seat at the table. “Eat quick.”

“No, no,” Mom said, “I want you two to relax and enjoy breakfast. Whatever’s going on at school can wait.”

“It’s pretty important,” I said, still giving Parker sliver eyes as he sat down across from me.

“Mia, please.” Mom brought the last of the toast to the table. “This is a special morning. Before we start eating I think we should offer a prayer.”

Parker froze with a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth.

She went on. “There’s not much time left. We have to start living right, and we have to start now. You heard what Prophet said about the storm. Only three days—no, two days until it arrives. We have to get right with God before then.” Mom’s eyes went to me. “Mia, will you pray?”

Parker slammed my car door. “Why couldn’t you just say the stupid prayer like she asked? If praying before we eat makes her feel better, we should do it.”

“It may make her
feel
better, but it’s not going to make her
better
,” I said.

“But she is getting better! You saw how she was this morning. She got out of bed, got dressed. She made breakfast for us. She’s trying! I bet it’s because she’s not on all that medication you were forcing her to take.”

“I wasn’t forcing her to take anything,” I snapped, pulling sharply away from the curb. “Besides, she thinks the world is going to end in a couple days. Do you call that a healthy mind? I don’t.”

Parker stewed in silence.

“Speaking of the world ending …” I said casually. “You haven’t heard from any of the Seekers, have you?”

“No.”

“Good.” I nodded to myself. “Now I know you’re willing to lie straight to my face.”

My brother went still, like a deer hoping it hasn’t been spotted by a hunter. Then he released the breath he’d been holding. “Like I had a choice? If I told you, you’d freak out on me, and …”

“And what?”

“And I’d join them anyway! I think they’re right, Mia! There’s something wrong in L.A., and it’s bigger than the earthquake. I can feel it. Don’t tell me you can’t.”

“I don’t feel anything,” I said. “And you’re not joining the Seekers.”

“I am. It’s the right thing to do.”

“No, Parker, you’re really not.”

He stared at me for a long moment, reading me. “You were at the school last night. That’s why your car was gone
when we got home.” His voice came out flat. “What did you do, Mia?”

I told him. It didn’t go well.

As soon as we reached the Skyline parking lot my brother was out of the car, running through the crowds of students toward the school.

“Parker, wait!” I called after him.

He didn’t even turn around.

17

“I TOLD YOU
she would come!” Katrina said when she opened the door to room 317. She wasn’t talking to me, though. She was talking to the roomful of people behind her … people wearing long, bloodred cloaks, almost like graduation gowns, but with hoods pulled over their heads, and black, featureless masks concealing their faces. The only ones not wearing masks were Mr. Kale and Katrina, though both were draped in the same red cloaks as the others. Katrina’s lips matched her cloak perfectly.

My gloved hands clenched into fists. I glared at Mr. Kale. “You said this wasn’t a cult.”

Katrina yanked me inside and locked the door behind me. “Secret society,” she said. “There’s a difference.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Then have a seat,” Mr. Kale said, patting the back of a chair positioned at the center of the room. The desks had been pushed back against the walls, making space for the cloaked, masked people. The lights were off and the blinds drawn, so Mr. Kale’s spectacular ocean view was obscured.

I sniffed, smelled something burning.

Katrina grabbed a rectangle of black construction paper with tape already on one side and stuck it to the small
window in the door, making it impossible for anyone outside the room to peek in.

The people in the red cloaks watched me silently from behind their black masks. One of them could be Parker and I would never know.

Katrina didn’t need her uncle’s ability to read my mind. “Parker was just here. Uncle Kale sent him away.”

I nodded, as relieved as I could be while still in my current situation. I wondered how long Parker would stay mad at me.

“Where’s your mask?” I asked Katrina.

In answer, Katrina picked up two masks off Mr. Kale’s desk and handed one to her uncle.

“Thought you might like to see a couple of familiar faces before we begin,” she said, and winked before donning her mask.

Mr. Kale, his face now hidden, took a step back from the chair and made an open-armed gesture as if to say,
It’s all yours
.

A vision popped into my head of a prisoner being strapped to that chair and a hood pulled over his face and—

I felt that tingling in my brain again, right before Mr. Kale said, “It’s a regular chair, Miss Price. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” I told him, but my voice wavered. I took a deep breath, like it would have to last me a while, and sat.

Before the Seekers converged around me, I saw one of them lift the ventilated lid of a small black pot, revealing the orange glow from within and releasing a small puff of smoke. And I saw the metal rod resting on its side near the pot … a metal rod with a perfect circle at one end.

I didn’t think I’d ever seen a branding iron in real life, but I knew instantly what the metal rod was, and fear seized my throat like a choking hand.

Then Seekers surrounded me, a shrinking red circle. Those featureless black faces gazed impassively down on mine, eyes shining from almond-shaped holes in their masks. Each one placed his left hand on the shoulder of the Seeker in front of him.

“What’s going on?” My words came out in something approaching a wail.

“Relax,” Katrina said. “Like I told you last night, we need to do a little bonding ritual to seal the deal. Then you’ll be one of us. We’ll know we can trust you and the masks can come off.”

A ritual? Had she mentioned a ritual? No, no, no. I would have remembered that.

Mr. Kale moved around in front of me and let his gaze settle on mine. I felt that tingling in my brain again, the feeling you get when one of your limbs falls asleep and then starts to wake up.

The Seekers nearest Mr. Kale placed their hands on his shoulders, so the whole group of them was connected.

“It’s going to be okay,” a black-masked Seeker said. I recognized Quentin’s voice. “We’ve all been through this. After, you’ll be connected to the rest of us. We’ll be your conductors.”

I thought of the way the Seekers seemed to move as one, like there was some kind of invisible thread connecting them. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be tied to them, bonded and branded as a Seeker for the rest of my life.

“But why is a ritual necessary? I already agreed to join.” Something I was regretting more and more every second. I should have listened to Jeremy, even if he had considered killing me. I should have stayed away from the Seekers. “Can’t I just take an oath or something?”

Mr. Kale glanced at Katrina over my head. “You said you explained everything to her.”

Katrina shrugged. “Maybe she wasn’t listening.”

“Mia,” Mr. Kale said. “The circle is to contain and concentrate our joined energy. I’m going to put my hands on your head now. You will feel some slight pressure and a bit of tingling, but there shouldn’t be any pain.”

“Wait. Let’s slow down and—”

I felt Mr. Kale’s hands come to rest lightly on top of my head. The hands settling there were gentle enough, but the buzz of electricity I felt from that touch was like an electric shock. I jerked in the seat. It wasn’t like being struck by lightning. With lightning, the pain was so brilliant that it became something beyond pain. This was different.

“You said it wouldn’t hurt.” My voice came out so thin I doubted anyone but me heard it. Then the pressure began, like someone was squeezing my brain, wringing it out like a sponge.

Let me in, Mia. Stop fighting. Let me make you one of us
.

It was Mr. Kale’s voice, and a part of me wanted to do what he said, give in and let this happen. But that part was tiny. Minuscule.

No! Get out of my head!

The heat gathered in my chest, crackling energy.

I heard Mr. Kale gasp.

What are you doing?

I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was that I wanted his hands off me. Wanted that pressure in my brain to be gone.

Please, stop this, Mia. Don’t fight me. I’m not your enemy
.

A charge vibrated over my skin.

We need you
, Mr. Kale said.

I don’t need you!
I threw the words back at him, and the charge running over my skin pulsed once. Then the pressure in my head was gone. Mr. Kale’s hands were gone. The Circle of Seekers widened and broke as they stumbled backward, a few of them gasping, clutching their hearts as though they’d been defibrillated.

I shot to my feet, and a wave of dizziness swept over me. For a moment my vision went black and sparkly, and then it cleared. I turned around. Mr. Kale had his back against the dry-erase board, and he was breathing in heaving gasps. His mask was gone, and his too-long hair hung in curtains over his eyes, only his nose protruding. His hands were up and he was staring at them through the veil of his hair. Wisps of smoke curled from his fingers, like he’d just crushed a handful of smoldering cigarettes.

“Uncle!” Katrina hurried to his side to examine his hands. “What did you do to him?” she snarled at me.

I saw that the skin on Mr. Kale’s palms was blackened, crisp and cracking, and my mind reeled backward to London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, to the burns covering Janna’s legs, the handprints scorched onto her chest.

When I began backing toward the door, no one tried to stop me.

18

MY BODY WENT
through the motions. Went to class. Sat down in assigned seat. Stared at words and equations on dry erase board. My mind was another matter. It kept returning to Mr. Kale’s classroom, reliving what had happened there.

He’d been inside my head, but this time he hadn’t merely spoken to me. This time there had been pressure, that terrible pressure, like he was trying to mold my brain into a new shape.

During classes, I kept sneaking glances at the other students, mentally photoshopping black masks onto their faces. I examined their backpacks. Did they seem too full, maybe because they had red cloaks stuffed inside? Were their hands turned facedown on their desks to hide circular brands?

When lunch came, I didn’t want to go to the cafeteria, didn’t want to risk running into Quentin and Schiz, or worse, Katrina or Jeremy. Didn’t want to feel eyes on me and wonder if they belonged to some other faceless Seeker, or some guy who wanted me dead. At least the Followers didn’t hide who they were. You could always see them coming.

I found an inconspicuous alcove where I could lie low
and watch as students flowed into the cafeteria, keeping an eye out for Parker. After ten minutes, he still hadn’t showed. Where was he? I needed to talk to him, make him understand that the Seekers were not playing around. They did rituals and wore scary masks and did things to your brain, things no one should be able to do.