1 | The Terrible Dreamer

Chapter 5

WISH

Sunlight creeps in through the trees and garden outside my bedroom. Clothes litter the carpet while three hoverboards are secured in their wall mounts, pristine and polished, tuned every weekend, the only item in my room that I care for, besides my bed. My room powers on, slowly removing the tint on the windows and letting the too-bright sun inside. I sit posed on the yoga mat, meditating, taking in everything around me.

The creaking hardwood floor. My pile of shoes tossed in the corner of my room. Birds chirping outside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and Mom's alarm going off. The A/C kicking off, letting the morning humidity filter in; sweat slowly drips down my neck. Honing my senses every morning helps me keep a sharp awareness of everything happening around me. Otherwise, I'm vulnerable to outside threats.

My watch alarm goes off, telling me it's time to go. I hop up and pull on some running shoes and grab my blue hoverboard off the wall mount, the one-wheel tire presses into my side. I'd ride it in the house, but Mom would have a field day. She's still not up, so the living room is quiet and still. Coffee drips in kitchen, waking me up just from its bitter scent. I've never been a breakfast type of person—at least not eating breakfast at the appropriate time.

Once I'm out the door, I kick on the electric boosters and book it across the sidewalk, taking me from a walk to a sprint. The forest zips by, rain drops brush the tips of leaves and flowers, dripping on me at random. The air is slightly cool and humid, hair rises on my skin, and I brush a few low tree leaves out of yearning to feel nature on my fingertips. It's times like these that give me purpose in life. I love the smell of rain and forest. It makes me feel connected to the Earth and the Earth connected to me.

By the time I reach the Main House of the Andreatte Estate, I'm five minutes early. Sensei's car isn't parked in the circle drive, which means I still have time to talk to Aiya. I sneak around back. Bushes line the walkway up to the iron gate. Energy crackles from the talisman's etched into the iron and hidden behind shrubs and statues, trailing over my skin; goosebumps prick my hairs until I completely pass through. I latch the gate and hurry down a set of stairs beside the house.

The basement is cool and stinks of burning incense, it's designed to match the Asian Indian aesthetic of the property, a decisive move to prevent unnecessary questions. Because behind every door the rooms are all different, some hold secrets, others are bare cells, and the last one in the back is the room I spent half my childhood in, the training dojo, or as I like to call it, The Torture Chamber.

Being as stealth as a snake, I set my hoverboard against the wall and slip inside between the decorative doors. It latches shut with a soft snap. Aiya's talking to Ken, her back is facing me. He glances over her shoulder, dark chestnut eyes twinkling as I quietly sneak across the mats until I'm right behind Aiya.

I grasped her thin shoulders. She jumps and screams just enough to make me laugh. Ken joins me, snickering against his fist. Aiya punches me in the arm. "Not funny."

That just makes us laugh even harder. "How are you not immune to it by now? I swear Wish attacks you once a week, at least," Ken says, settling back down. He leans his against the mat, stretching out his muscles and broad shoulders.

I rustle his messy brown hair. He swats me away. "Stop, I just fixed it."

"Your hair always looks like you rolled out of bed." Aiya scoffs. "You're lucky Aunty Zara lets you get away with it. My mother would banish me to the pits of hell."

She's not joking. Aiya's mother has always been strict with her upbringing. More than once, I've witnessed Mrs. Andreatte being physical with Aiya, and though I've brought it up with Mom, there's nothing we can do. The Andreatte Family owns us... but they can't own my heart and mind. Once Aiya takes over as head of the family, I will protect her no matter the cost, including from her witch of a mother.