Zirconia swept back her glossy hair in the passenger seat of Killian's black Mercedes, uncovering a décolletage laden with Swarovski crystals and the architectural neckline of her black velvet evening dress. Outside, night had fallen, but the blue embers of gloaming had not yet capitulated to midnight. In front of them, guests dressed in formal attire ascended the steps of a grand entranceway hewn in white stone. They were about to enter the evening charity soirée.
"So, how did the test run Gigawatt go?" she asked.
Killian pulled the keys out of the ignition and stashed them in the pocket of his black suit trousers. He looked up at his handsome reflection in the rearview mirror and adjusted the positioning of his black bowtie. Golden cufflinks buttoned into the sleeves of his evening jacket flashed, catching the rays from the fairy lights that had been strung up around the parking area.
"As expected, he brought her," he replied.
Zirconia looked smug. "See, I told you. There'd be no one else for him to bring."
He turned to face her. "My girlfriend could be a mind-reader."
"That's why your girlfriend," she pointed out, "is going into poli-sci."
"Time for the next phase?"
"Yes..." The corners of her lips curled upward like a jackal's. "You've still got that Ned Asper hooked?"
"Of course, he was the one who delivered the invitation."
"Good. And he'll also be the one to oversee initiation."
"Usually, the older bros do that..."
"No." She pointed a French-tipped finger at his chest. "You stay out of it this time. We're not going to run the risk of being tagged as accomplices."
"Send it through one of the messengers?"
"Don't. Call in debt collection. Fewer questions asked. Less room for leaks. Less incentive for anyone to snitch."
Killian scowled. "Someone else might spring the leak."
Zirconia whirled. "Who? Nobody could without ratting out themselves first."
"It's that freak."
"The new freak?"
"Yes," he answered, "the guys going to the Gigawatt saw that emo on the street and had to clean things up."
"Then it's all good?"
"Not quite. The freak's friend saw and might've called the police. They had to bolt."
"Any police come?"
"No."
"It might've been a ruse." She leaned against the leather seat. "Oh my god, can't believe the freak has a friend. That is Earth-shattering news."
"And I think it's her," Killian said quietly.
"What do you mean, her?"
"They said they thought that girl was wearing orchid purple."
Zirconia thought for a moment. "You're right. No one else wears stuff like that. It must've been her."
"You think she'd say anything?" he asked.
"Aren't you more worried the freak's gonna say something? That weirdo won't have any more skin in the game after graduation. Perfect time to let out a bomb like that, right?" Zirconia waved her braceleted arms around.
"But if she already knows about..." Killian whispered.
"Good point, it'll just be fanning the flames." Zirconia slumped in the leather seat. "Speaking of flames, we should start some fires about her—fan some rumors to smoke her out. Good Lord! Why does that little girl have to cause so much trouble?"
"We didn't have to..."
"You want to try letting two people keep a secret?"
"We," he gestured, "are two people."
She leaned over and reached out like a demure cat. She grabbed a lapel on his coat and pulled him in to her body. "No, Killian," she said, "we are one person. You should be very clear about that, considering our families."
He inhaled the haze of her heady perfume. "Yes, yes. You know what I meant. I'm just worried about this whole d—— mess we're in."
She let go and sank back like an octopus retreating into a deep-sea cave. "We're not in any mess at all."
"Then what is all of this?" Killian circled one hand overhead.
"A preemptive strike," she replied. "You're gonna have to be more proactive than this if you want to make it in PE."
"Alright," he huffed, "then what do you suggest we do?"
She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. "What's the best way to make a girl fall in love with you?"
"I asked you out on a carpet of red roses," he said.
"Yes, and I adore you for that." She smiled, savoring a delicious thought. "But the most surefire way is for the prince on his high white horse to swoop in and save her."
"What're you saying?"
"It's actually perfect." She looked out at the well-lit ballroom. "Her seeing the freak getting beaten up like that. Because then it'll make perfect sense." Her voice dripped with caustic acid.
"You want me to hire——"
"Yes," she wheeled to stare at him point-blank, "and do it in the morning, because he has practice in the afternoon."
~ ~ ~
January was almost over. I bit back a yawn and turned a corner, walking sleepily to the bus stop. A fuzzy headache throbbed under my temples. The ibuprofen hadn't kicked in yet.
Almost there, just one more block.
More than finally graduating from this cracked-up—literally, just look at the ground during the summer—place, I couldn't wait to be old enough to get a car. Then, I wouldn't need to make this trek twice a day, five times a week. But...then I'd have to go to work, because a car wasn't going to fall out of the sky.
What was the going rate for high school workers? Something like $7.50 an hour? Subtract the taxes you owe old Uncle Sam, Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, and you're down to maybe $5.60 an hour? Assuming I'd work thirty hours a week, how long would it take to save up for a used car?
I passed the For Sale house. I was doing the mental arithmetic when three buff guys in morph suits jumped in front of me. I gasped and tried to run, but one of them lashed out, quick as lightning, with a balled-up fist and socked me in the eye.
My head spun. I saw stars. I staggered backwards from the impact. Blood coursed through my veins, and every voice in my head yelled at me to RUN!
I held my injured eye in one hand and looked for a way out. Mind racing, I reached behind me with my other hand and searched through the side pocket of my backpack. My hand tightened around the corkscrew opener.
The ring of morph suit hooligans closed around me, cutting off any possibility of escape. The swelling eye in my hand felt hot, but everything else was cold. What were they going to do to me?
I tried to bargain. My voice faltered. "If you want money, you can ta——"
Someone behind shoved me down on the cracked sidewalk. I screamed and splayed one hand out in front of me. The concrete surged up to meet me, and I skidded along the rough surface. I skinned my hand and elbow, and fire shot up one leg as the uneven pavement took a bloody bite out of my left knee.
Another man bent his leg back and kicked me in the ribs as I was trying to scramble back up. I gasped with pain and quickly flipped over onto my back so that I could see my attackers. Ignoring the searing pain in my bad leg and gauging the distance as best as I could with one eye, I jabbed—hard—at the man's shins with the heel of my foot.
The sole contacted bone, and he jumped back, muttering curses, while another person raised his leg. I saw the boot coming out of the corner of my eye and rolled out of the way just in time. I clambered up, blood dripping down my left leg and staining the front of my pant leg.
A man grabbed me in the chokehold, squeezing his elbow around my neck. I kicked and flailed. I clawed at his arm. I struggled to breathe. Someone else moved in to knock out my brains with his raised fist. I flipped the corkscrew opener out, point down, and I rammed the point straight down into the man's arm with as much force as I could muster.
He screamed. The tension around my neck loosened. While he shook his arm and cursed, I slipped out. I was bent over coughing when someone yanked me up by the shirt collar.
I heard pounding steps on the pavement.
"Ari!" Claren ran towards the commotion with one hand in his waistband, bluffing like he had a gun.
The malevolent morph suits dropped me and took off in the opposite direction. I collapsed, spluttering, on the sidewalk. I was lame, chafed, and out of breath.
When my attackers disappeared, Claren pulled up beside me. "Ari! Are you okay?" His face was full of concern.
I wheezed. "I'm..." I grimaced, trying to push myself up.
"Hang on, I have something to patch you up." Claren turned to head down the block, where he had dropped his bags in haste. "Don't move. I'll be right back."
He ran to the bus stop. One block. I was literally only one block away. What the freaking bleep was that?
I bent my bad leg in and winced. Gingerly, I rolled the pant leg up and surveyed the damage. A rivulet of blood trickled down my shin. A nasty red gash sneered at me. The skin around it was starting to turn blue-black. Geez.
Who were those guys? I didn't owe anyone money. I wasn't in a gang. As far as I knew, I hadn't upset anyone dangerous. There was no reason for random psychos to attack me right before school. I fumed.
Wait, the Psychos. I guess that's why they were called that.
I suspected this was retribution for what happened when I was coming out of the party. Despite all the precautions I had taken, despite my staying mum and not spreading any denigrating rumors, they had figured out that it had been me. And this was some kind of warning? That worse would follow if I ever broke my peace? They could go head-to-head with Heathcliff for toxic retribution.
I wondered if this ever happened to anyone else. You usually didn't hear about kids from our school getting randomly roughed up. But maybe, that was because they were all under similar threats. From the looks of this, I was sure they'd be willing to do anything to make us stay quiet.
I shivered. Graciousness galore, I was sick and tired of that place. Was it worth it? Sticking it out until graduation in hopes of better opportunities? Perhaps, I should just throw in the towel now and call it quits. Go back to the school district I would've gone to if they've never plucked me out from the crowd with their high-flying recruiting gig.
I didn't know for how long this CURSE of knowledge would follow me around if I stayed at that place. They might keep pulling stints like this. Or they might do other stuff and make my life a living nightmare, one of the Droog's horrorshow horror shows perched at the edge of the universe. That was what Xanexa had said, that even if heaven didn't exist, the other place was very real...
In any case—I gritted my teeth—I had to finish out the year and go to state, and probably nationals after that, or I'd forfeit the tuition and have to pay the administration the full sticker price of my "excellent education." Ah...ha, ha, ha. Nope. That wasn't ever going to happen.
This sucked. They'd already stuffed me into one of their formaldehyde jars for the year, and I was their naked, bug- and now black-eyed Anatomy dissection cat.
Claren sped over and knelt on the ground. He unzipped his duffel bag, and I caught a glimpse of something that looked like a bottle of mouthwash, shoved in with his shoes and gear.
He took out several antiseptic wipes from a first aid kit. Scout's honor, the kid was always prepared.
"This is going to sting," he said.
I clenched my jaw. "As long as it doesn't get infected."
He ripped open the package and sanitized his hands. Then, he tore open a second wipe, and I shut my eyes.
Tingling fire darted up my leg when the rubbing alcohol hit my wound. I sucked in a deep breath.
Gradually, the burning subsided to a dull ache, and I opened my eyes. Claren looked steeped in worry as he pawed through the small first aid box. "Who were those guys?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea."
He unrolled a length of gauze and began wrapping it tenderly around the gaping red pool on my knee. Sometimes, his fingers brushed against my leg, and I tried to hold still.
"How bad is everything else?" he asked.
I pulled up my teal green long-sleeves and rotated my arm to survey my elbows. They were skinned, and there were small spots of blood, but they weren't as bad as my knee. I examined my palms. The sidewalk had only shaved off the outer epidermis. Nothing too serious. They wouldn't need the whole rigamarole of gauze and bandages that Claren was going through now.
"Not horrific," I said.
The bus pulled into the stop. I tried to stand up.
"Sit down, Ari. We'll take the next one," he said, his voice gentle and heavyhearted. "Let me finish this. You've been in a bad scrape." He sealed the gauze with several circles of athletic tape.
"I need a switchblade," I muttered.
The bus closed its doors and rolled away. We were going to have to wait another thirty minutes. Both of us were going to be marked tardy. The world doesn't stop spinning when you fall down.
"You need to clean out your arm and hands." He pulled off two more antiseptic wipes.
"I've got it." I reached out my scratched-up hand for the infection-killing liquid fire in a packet. "You've already done enough, patching up my leg. The rest of it isn't terrible."
He looked a tad dejected, but he handed over the antiseptic wipes, and I cleaned the open cuts, forcing back tears. I was going to show up to school looking like I'd been through a mini apocalypse.
When I was done, I found Claren still hovering near me, looking at me intently. I could imagine what a sorry state I must have been in.
He moved forward, like he was going to help me up, but he hung back when he saw my determination. I slowly pushed myself off the sidewalk, being careful not to let my exposed palms touch the pavement. My bad leg protested when I tried to put weight on it, and I shifted my weight onto the other leg. I curled beneath me the injured leg with its rolled-up pant leg. I tried to walk. That leg couldn't support much weight. I'd have to limp. At least I'd have a pass for P.E.
I reached down for my backpack on the ground. Claren grabbed it first and stepped closer to me.
"Ari," he said, "we have time. You can go back and change if you need to."
I shook my head. "I'll just grab my tracksuit from the gym. I don't think I can walk back and make it here on time."
"I'll wait," he offered.
"I've already made us late enough. No, it's fine." I grasped my backpack, and he let go.
I started shuffling in an off-kilter manner, finishing the last block to the bus stop, as I should have done before I'd been viciously attacked. Claren accompanied me at one side, walking slowly to match my pace.
"Thanks, Claren, by the way," I said, pausing to look at him with sincere gratitude. "Thanks for helping me out."
He smiled warmly; happiness mixed with concern. "No problem, Ari. I meant it when I said I'd have your back."
We waited for the bus in comfortable silence on that one lonely street corner of this provincial town stuck in the middle of a grave and silent desert.
~ ~ ~
I didn't bother holding my breath past the Anatomy room. I'd had enough of oxygen deprivation for one day. Screw the formaldehyde fumes. Screw them with a dollar-store corkscrew.
I'd gotten some strange looks in my morning classes, but no one had questioned me. They probably assumed that I'd had a run-in with the mob—perfectly justifiable on account of which part of town I was from.
Xanexa was sitting by the Calc room, drawing as usual. When I sat down, xe stopped and looked at me in dismay. I shuddered under xyr penetrating gaze.
"Do not tell me nothing happened," xe said in a stern voice.
I looked out of my one good eye since the other had swollen almost shut. I sighed. "I was attacked on the way to school."
"For what? Being alive?"
I laughed bitterly. "That seems to be the reason." I stared glumly at the wall next to xyr flop of hair. "Why is the world so cruel?"
"The world," xe said, coating the words with steel, "is just a blank page. People draw their own evil designs."
"Evil artists... Haven't heard that one before. It's usually the evil scientists who try to take over the world, or power-hungry politicians, or greedy industrialists."
"Artists aren't evil. They only want to find the beauty in all things."
"Snow White's stepmother was so obsessed with beauty, she ended up brewing a poison apple. Does it really make anything better?"
"Even the most dazzling crown jewels can be used for murder. Think of what happened with one of the most beautiful equations on Earth."
"Which one?" I asked.
"E = mc2, yeah?"
"What about it?"
"A succinct summary of the universe became the basis for the atomic bomb."
"Yep," I grumbled. "Everyone is crazy about finding the best way to kill each other."
"And that's just the force of two hydrogen atoms smashing into one another. Think about the power unleashed when two co-orbiting binary stars fuse together."
"Right...ha, ha. Rip apart the universe. Rip."
"Or, according to legends, two people..."
Don't think I've heard that one before. "What legend?"
"Have you been to the museum before?"
Conversational U-turn. I didn't know where xe was going with this. I was curious. "The museum?"
"I'll take you." Xe glanced at my black eye. "When you can see better."
"Thanks. I'm empathizing with the pirates for the rest of the week."
Xe cracked a small grin.
I looked at xyr sketchbook. "What're you drawing?"
"A hummingbird," xe answered, flipping the book around.
I saw a flighty bird with glistening feathers and a long, pointed beak, suspended in mid-air. Its eyes had an intense look of determination and courage, and it held its head up high, facing the world with unabashed gravity, like a regal queen.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
"Their hearts race at over two hundred beats per minute during the day," xe informed me. "They are incredibly agile creatures—and powerful, despite their small size. They can hover, fly backwards, and turn on a dime. This is how they survive, by outrunning their predators and being the elusive prize."
I was still staring at the picture, mesmerized.
Xe drew the book back and switched the pencil to xyr other hand. After sketching a few lines, xe suddenly stopped and said, "Wait, I've got something for your leg." Xe whirled around to face the back wall.
For my leg? I looked down at my uniform track pants. Nothing was bleeding through. I hadn't told xyr about that. How did xe know? Xe'd been drawing, so I don't think xe had seen me coming down the hallway like an old Gramps who'd misplaced his cane.
Xe faced front again, one hand behind xyr back and the other hand outstretched. In the middle of xyr palm sat a small crystal pearl. It was the size of a pony bead and shimmered as it if it had an infinite number of facets. A ring of rainbows rippled on the black fabric of xyr glove where the light refracted through the crystal. It reminded me of a diamond, but I'd never seen one that round before; it was almost a sphere.
"Take it," xe said.
I picked it up between my thumb and index finger. It felt cool against my skin, like a drop of ice, except it didn't melt. I turned it over from side to side, awestruck and amazed at what it was. The small gemstone sparkled and twinkled.
"Press it against your injury when you get home," xe instructed me. "It'll be much better."
"Thanks," I said, letting it fall into my pencil case. I zipped the pouch closed.
Xe waved one gloved hand. "Thanks aren't necessary."
What was it? Some kind of gel capsule? A painkiller? Xe said it would make my cut better. It wouldn't be a shot of LSD, would it? I'd heard about how some people had acid stickers that you could peel off, stick on your tongue, and then go tripping off into Technicolor La-la-land. I didn't want to end up in some hallucinatory oblivion.
But xe wouldn't do that, right? I looked at xyr, back to work, probably fixing the hummingbird's wings. I didn't think xe was that kind of person.
Wait, and I also don't think I had heard xyr sift through xyr bag when xe was taking it out. So where did it come from? One of xyr hands was still behind xyr back.
I felt like it was safe, though, and I felt oddly at peace sitting across the alcove from the strange sketch artist. I felt like time could stand still, like I could see the end of the irrational number pi, like I could hover in mid-air forever, heart pounding at two hundred beats per minute and soul suspended in flight.
~ ~ ~
"Grandma! I'm home!" I locked the front door and took off my shoes.
She turned away from the T.V. and peered at me from behind her thick, round glasses. "How was school, Aurora?" she asked me. Then, she squinted and blinked. "Did something happen to your eye?"
I thought of a partially true excuse. "It's all good. Accident with a basketball in P.E."
She frowned. "I hope you'll be careful."
"Yes, Grandma. I'm alright," I reassured her.
"There is an escaped convict in the region," she said. "Be extra careful, Aurora."
So, Rosalie's fugitive had made the news. I was only mildly worried. What was one extra criminal running around when there were already so many loose on the streets?
"I will," I affirmed.
She turned back to the squawking television set. I waited until she was fixated on the soap opera before hobbling as quietly as I could to my room. She couldn't see too well what exactly was wrong with my eye, but only a truly blind person would be unable to tell that someone was limping.
I entered my room and plopped down in my chair. My leg throbbed. I pulled out my dirty clothes. I'd have to scrub the blood out and sew the rips up. I tossed them on my bed. Maybe later. I got out my pencil case and books. Time to chip away at homework.
I unzipped my pencil case, and the diamond pearl glittered on top. I stared at it. I'd almost forgotten. Worth a shot, right? My leg ached.
Carefully, I took it out and set it on the table. I extended my leg out and rolled up the hem of my track pants. I picked at the white athletic tape Claren had wrapped around my knee so many hours ago. The tape peeled off.
I got a pair of blunted scissors from my pencil pouch and snipped the gauze along the outside edge of my knee. I held one end of the gauze and prepared mentally. Blood and pus had seeped through the gauze, pooling in rust-brown and yellow stains.
Drat.
Please don't let it stick, I begged.
Slowly or in one go? It'd probably hurt less to rip it off.
I tore the bandage. It pulled off flakes of dried blood. I gasped in pain. The wound looked angry. But at least it wasn't bleeding anymore.
I picked up the sparkling crystal on my desk and rolled it between my fingers. It felt chilly. Probably some kind of painkiller.
I slowly brought it closer to my knee and pressed it against the wound. To my surprise, it melted into the broken skin with an Arctic hiss. I blinked. The throbbing stopped. My injury looked like someone had doused it with water. The raw flesh gleamed and looked slick, like it was covered with a film of ice. The pain subsided. I let out a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding. So, it was some kind of painkiller after all.
I spun to face my desk and dug for a highlighter to start my biology vocabulary assignment. My fingers brushed against a USB. I froze.
I had tried everything I could think of, short of poking around on the dark web for a hacker, but the files were all password protected, and I didn't know the key. I remembered when Katrina had given the flash-drive to me during one of her diving meets. It had been near the end of the semester, near the end of——
The meet was almost over. She walked over after her performance. She was panting and wet from the pool. I told her that she'd done a great job, though I didn't know the first thing about how diving was scored. She shrugged and said that all the scores were relative. Then, she dug inside her backpack, pulled out this USB drive, and handed it to me.
"Watch it for me," she said. "I don't want it to get lost while I go change."
My hand closed around the purple plastic, and I nodded my assent.
Neither one of us remembered the USB the rest of that evening—it had been such a minor thing. When we parted at the bus station, she told me cheerily, "See ya tomorrow, Ari."
But the next morning, I never saw her. I never would again.
They finalized the investigation, closing it after two weeks because we were expendable, not worth their time. I had asked Rosalie if she could persuade her dad to have the department keep looking, following leads. She had tried, but he only worked there, and he didn't run the show. So, it was case closed. End of discussion.
I never believed their verdict was the end. And, in vain hopes, I thought that the USB might hold some clues. It was irrational, because it was the umpteenth time I had done so, but I plugged the USB into my laptop and tried her birthday. The name of her miniature Doxin, Ruby. The city she wanted to travel to the most, London. Her fictional character crush. Her favorite T.V. show. And mixed-up combinations of these and other things.
The files were still locked. I wrung my hands in frustration and ejected the USB. I pulled my legs in towards my body, huddling in my chair.
I glanced down and saw that fresh skin had miraculously grown over my previously chewed up knee. My eyes widened. With a light finger, I grazed the smooth flesh where my wound had been. It had completely healed. There was no more blood. No more pain.
My mind raced. That was no ordinary painkiller Xanexa had given me. My heart thudded. Heck, it might not have been a painkiller at all. It was something other entirely—something extraordinary and otherworldly.