Chapter 1
Thalia
The last two years were the worst of my life. Middle school; got to love it. The combination from the girls who throw gum in my hair, and the guys that trip over themselves to ‘flirt’ with me endlessly leaves me very temped to use my— as my mother calls it— gift. It could take them out easily, but I don’t know if it would just knock them over, or knock them out— permanently. I’d be fine either way, but my mother told me not to arouse suspicion, as if someone is looking for me, besides the boys that put love notes in my locker. Ugh.
I go to the bathroom and try to clear my head. I look in the mirror and curse my beautiful features silently. A pretty girl with tan skin, dark blonde curly hair, and intense blue-green eyes stares back at me. If it were up to me I would be a pale faced, buck-toothed girl that nobody notices. But I’m not.
I know what you’re thinking, jeez, what’s her problem? She’s beautiful! Who wouldn’t want that? Well, I hate drawing attention. When almost every head in the room turns to gawk at my blushing face, I silently call them names that my mother would make me wash my mouth out with soap if she heard them.
Right then the bell rings for the end of the day. Thank God! I’m longing for home at this point. I start walking home— well, I don’t know if you’d call a cramped New York apartment a home, but it’s my home.
I’m just past the bus stop when I notice a woman with long, straight black hair, coffee-colored skin, and green eyes.She’s most likely in her mid-twenties. She’s staring at me as if she’d seen a ghost. I don’t know why it bothers me; people stare at me all the time. It would’ve been fine, she might not even be looking at me, but then she runs toward me.
“Hey! Wait up!” She calls.
I walk briskly towards my apartment. You see weirdoes like this all the time in New York, but it’s still best to stay away.
I would’ve kept walking, but she stops me cold in my tracks.
“Thalia! Thalia Freemon! I’ve been waiting so long to meet you!” she shouts from about fifteen yards away.
I whip sharply around. How in heck does this lady know my name? I’m not the kind of open person who just bubbly walks around, telling people my name.
I wait for her to catch up, and then catch her arm. She’s icy cold, even through the thick winter jacket that she’s wearing. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”
“Your mom knows.” She says wearily.
I give her my best look of pure disgust. I didn’t know I was dealing with one of those people. “Seriously?” I scold sternly. “Let’s be mature adults here.” I turn to walk away, but she catches my hood.
“No! Please, I’m serious. You’re in grave danger, but your mother has known about this for years. I have to talk to her.”
“Look, what do you want? Food? Money? Here I’ve got a twenty. Now leave me alone!”
“No, wait! Here’s my business card.” I gaze at it. It says:
Gracelyn Clearwater
Elemental Guide
(212) 595- 2069
“What’s an Elemental Guide?” I enquire incredulously. I imagine this occupation at a high school career fair. Elemental Guide: a bright prospect for your future.
“It’s… complicated.” Grace paraphrases. I let it go, even though it’s not much of an answer.
“Fine! If you talk to my mother, will you then leave me alone?” I inquire resignedly.
“Umm, yeah! Of course!” she beams at me, but something tells me she doesn’t mean it.
I lead her to my apartment and when we walk through the door, the color drains from my mother’s face and the vase she was holding shatters on the floor.