The Legend of the Eight: The Gifted

1: Where the Wild Things Are

"I moved here in August," she said which made Wil incredibly embarrassed. She and Phoebe used to know everything about each other—down to their darkest, most twisted secrets. How could she not have known when Phoebe traded the four-bedroom home she'd grown up in for a loft across town?

Phoebe's eyes trained on the numbers of the elevator as they counted down to the lobby.

17... 16... 15...

"After things with my mom..." Her voice trailed and she cleared her throat. "Downsizing made more sense."

Wil swallowed hard, forcing down a lump that had begun forming the second she realized she wasn't alone in the elevator. "H—How is she? Lyla, I mean."

Suddenly, Phoebe got even quieter. She scratched at her freckly nose and then blinked down to the Nikesshe was holding in her hand. After a minute, she blinked back up and softly replied,

"No change since July."

Rubbing her collarbones awkwardly, Wil nodded but didn't say anything else. What could she say? The girls hadn't spoken in months and hadn't been friends for much longer than that.

The elevator continued descending and a part of Wil wished someone else would stop it and get on. Anything to disrupt the awkward silence. But no one else was crazy to be up at the early hour.

"How was your Hanukkah?" Wil almost asked but thankfully didn't. Hanukkah was the one time that Phoebe could actually count on her mom being something that even remotely resembled a mom. Surely her first year without her wasn't something the freckly girl was eager to talk about.

"Has the Council made a decision yet?" Phoebe obviously wasn't as cautious asking the difficult questions. The Royal Council was a group elected to work alongside Wil's family, the Royal Family, and together, they governed the Realm.

Suddenly, Wil was the one wavering quietly in the corner. She spun the bracelet around her wrist and avoided making eye contact. Almost a month had passed since that chilly day in November and she still didn't know how to talk about it or what to say. Actually, she had plenty to say but unless it was an omission of guilt, no one wanted to hear it.

"The hearing is later today," Wil responded when she'd exhausted any attempts to stall. "Dad seems optimistic but Mom said we should be prepared should things not go in our favor. Her pessimism is so predictable, it's almost refreshing."

Before Phoebe could respond, another dingsounded from the elevator and it came to a soft halt. Wil looked up and the two girls just stood there. It was like they both had so much left to say but neither one of them knew where to begin. Finally, Phoebe gestured to her stocking feet and the running shoes she was holding.

"I should get going," she said quietly, like she didn't completely mean it. "It's supposed to snow again today so I want to make sure I'm back before then."

Wil nodded and the girls exited the elevator, walking through the lobby which she didn't entirely recognize from the night before. The guy she came with—what was his name again? Oh right. Damon—was a little distracting. In the morning—albeit, hungover and exhausted—she saw the details she'd missed last night. The building was nice, an old industrial building restored with more modern features. It was exactly the kind of place a twenty-something bachelor would live—as well as an eighteen-year-old pseudo-orphan.

"Good luck with the hearing today," Phoebe said after some time and it sounded like she meant it. She stopped by the door and looked back with a sense of longing in her violet eyes. "I hope it all works out."