16
Heather shuffled into the school, schedule and map in hand. Out of all the things she missed from Boston, school was not one of them. Damien had managed to get Ivy and her into Sacramento High in just a few days. Ivy hadn’t spoken to Heather since the group had decided that Heather would go with her, and this was fine with Heather. They didn’t get along too well.
Heather glanced at her schedule, Chemistry being her first period. She checked the map, found the way, and glanced at Ivy, who still managed to look like a model.
Where she had gotten these designer clothes, Heather didn’t know. Ivy’s suitcase didn’t look that big, but she hadn’t repeated an outfit yet. Her first-day-of-school outfit consisted of designer skinny jeans, a skin-tight white tank-top and small leopard print heels. Her make-up was done flawlessly; eyeliner penciled thinly around her sparkling green eyes and soft pink lipstick applied to her lips. Silky brown hair flowed down her shoulders. She radiated confidence, and Heather knew that if they were both normal people going to a normal school, Ivy would’ve been very popular.
Heather looked down at her own outfit and scrunched her nose. She had thrown her brown hair into a ponytail and applied her usual makeup: a little eyeliner and mascara. Skinny jeans that she had had forever clung to her legs and an old T-shirt hung on her torso, while sneakers adorned her feet. She was surprised she had even made it that far; she was usually lazy in the mornings.
“Well,” Heather mumbled. “I’m going this way. If you find a Mordan, just connect with me and I’ll meet up with you.”
“You’ll probably find one first since you’re so good at finding them,” Ivy snapped. Heather rolled her eyes, sighed, and walked toward her classroom as the first bell rang. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Ivy today. She was exhausted and was not looking forward to sitting through seven hours of teachers lecturing on topics she would be behind on, considering it was already almost second semester at Sacramento High.
As she sulked into the Chemistry classroom, she kept her head down, eyes trained on the floor, looking for green-bottomed shoes. She scanned everyone in the classroom, but found nothing. Sighing, she found an empty seat and plopped down just as the bell rang.
A middle-aged man with a slight beard and big glasses walked to the front of the classroom and began calling roll. Once he was finished, a red-headed boy next to Heather raised his hand.
“Um, Mr . . .” the boy trailed off, obviously not knowing the teacher’s name.
Hmm, Heather thought. He must be new, too.
“Mr. Bumner,” the teacher replied curiously.
“Right, Mr. Bum,” the boy replied, and the class snorted.
“Excuse me, who are . . . ” Mr. Bumner said, caught off guard.
“Doesn’t matter,” the red-headed boy said, waving his hand. Heather could only see the side of his face, so she couldn’t read his expression. “But you didn’t call my name.”
Mr. Bumner looked back at his list, flustered. “Well, you must be new then.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Redhead murmured. Half the class stared at him, jaws dropped, while the other half, including Heather, busted up laughing in surprise.
Mr. Bumner’s face reddened. “Young man, we do not accept that kind of language in our school. What did you say your name was?”
“Ron Weasley.” This provided laughter for the whole class. Heather could even see Mr. Bumner fighting a smile. The redheaded boy turned to the side for the first time and glanced at Heather. Heather did a double take when she saw his eyes: a very familiar gold color.
“Matt!” Heather whispered, trying not to smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Just having a little fun,” he whispered back.
“You’re gonna get in trouble.”
Matt shushed her and winked. “I got this under control.”
“Young lady, do you know this man?” Mr. Bumner asked Heather, sounding exasperated.
Heather’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, um . . .”
Matt interrupted her. “Yeah, that’s Hermione.” The class giggled. “If you haven’t read the books yet, spoiler alert: we get married.” His Australian accent was gone, but Heather could still hear it faintly in his voice.
“Son, you better knock it off right . . . ” The teacher was interrupted by a collective gasp in the room. The pen that was in Mr. Bumner’s pocket suddenly flew across the room. The entire class stared at the pen, mouths agape, while Heather bowed her head, trying not to laugh, and Matt smirked.
“You should probably pick that up,” Matt piped up.
Heather snorted. “Matt! Stop. You’re being mean.”
“You know you like it,” He whispered back. When he talked to Heather, his Australian accent was strong, but whenever he talked to the teacher, it was gone. It was weird: Matt’s voice and Matt’s strange eyes on a completely different body.
Matt turned back, and as Mr. Bumner bent down to pick up his pen, Matt sent a piece of paper protruding from the teacher’s back pocket flying to the opposite side of the room.
Baffled, the class stared at Matt. Heather heard people murmuring among themselves as Heather stifled a laugh.
“Who is that?”
“How did he--”
“Was that--”
“When’s lunch?”
“Whoa, Mr. Bum! What a cool magic trick. Show me how to do that some time?” Matt said, and Heather snickered.
“Young man, if you think this is funny, just wait until I send you to the principal’s office! I don’t think you’ll be laughing then,” Mr. Bumner said, clearly very upset. He started to make his way to pick up the paper.
Matt jumped up. “Oh, let me help you with that!” He walked over and picked up the paper, holding it out to the teacher. Mr. Bumner hesitated, half-expecting the paper to fly away, but he snatched it out of Matt’s hand.
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Mr. Bumner stumbled over to the phone hanging on the wall and with shaky hands, dialed the principal’s number. “After this, I’m going to call your parents!” he threatened Matt.
Suddenly, the phone in the teacher’s hand flew away, bringing the whole console tumbling down with it. Mr. Bumner yelled and jumped while the rest of the class gasped in surprise. Heather stared in amazement, her heart pounding.
Mr. Bumner took a deep breath. “Son, I will--”
“And that’s my cue!” Matt said. He jogged back over to Heather, Mr. Bumner stumbling over the mess on the floor.
Matt grabbed Heather gently by the shoulders. He kissed the top of her head lightly and leaned down next to her ear. “See you later, mate. Good luck,” he whispered. Then he went flying out the door, Mr. Bumner hot on his trail.
The class, including Heather, jumped up and ran toward the door, crowding around it, trying to see where the stranger and their teacher went. After a few moments, Mr. Bumner returned empty handed. He looked angry, and ushered the students back in. Once everyone was settled in, Mr. Bumner began the lesson for that day, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
By the time the bell rang, Heather’s heart was still fluttering from what Matt had done. It had distracted her so much that she almost forgot what she was here to do. Almost.
As she walked out into the hallway, she stared at shoes, trying to find a suspect. She briefly glanced at her schedule to find her next class, English. Once she found the appropriate room, she settled into an empty seat and scanned the room. No Mordans, and no Matt. Disappointed, she leaned against her chair and waited for the class to start. The bell rang, students took their seats, and the teacher, Mrs. Anderson, began lecturing.
“Alright,” the teacher said, picking up her whiteboard marker. “Get with a partner.”
Heather groaned. She glanced around the room, kids moving closer to each other, partnerships predetermined by friendships.
“Wanna be partners?” Heather looked toward the girl who had spoken. She had light blonde hair that fell down to her mid-back and dark brown eyes. She wore a black tank top, a leather jacket, and a high-waisted floral skirt. She shrugged. “My best friend isn’t here today, so I need a partner.”
Heather smiled. “Sure. I’m Heather.”
“Belle,” Belle smiled back at Heather, showing off brilliantly white teeth. “So, you new to Sacramento High?”
Heather nodded as she pulled out a piece of paper. She immediately liked and trusted Belle. She seemed genuinely nice, not to mention that she was really pretty in her own unique way. Heather glanced at Belle’s shoes, and a feeling of relief washed over her. Just normal black combat boots. No green bottoms.
“Where’d you come from?” Belle asked.
Heather froze. The question caught her off guard. Now, why she didn’t just answer truthfully that she came from Boston, Heather didn’t know. She panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. “Uhh. . . Russia.”
Belle scrunched her nose. “Really? Why don’t you have an accent?”
Heather mentally face-palmed herself. “Oh . . . I, well . . . I only lived there for a year so. . .”
Belle gave her a weird look, but thankfully Mrs. Anderson saved the day.
“With your partners, I want you to write--“ Mrs. Anderson was suddenly interrupted by an extremely loud siren. The whole class jumped, Heather suddenly very alert.
“What is that? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Heather fired off, quickly looking around the room.
“Relax, dude. It’s just a lockdown drill,” Belle said, giving Heather another strange look. “What, they don’t have those in Russia?” She smirked and stood up. Heather followed suit, trying to slow down her rapidly beating heart. Belle had grabbed her backpack, so Heather picked up her duffel. She hadn’t had time to buy a backpack, so she had used the duffel bag that she had packed for this trip. They crossed the classroom, joining the cluster of students in the back of the room. Belle sauntered through the kids, and sat down in the rear, her back leaning against the wall. She motioned for Heather to join her, then pulled out her phone and immediately began texting. Heather sat down and took a deep breath. Belle was engaged with her phone, so Heather looked around for something to do. She decided on rifling through her duffel. She had been too lazy to actually clean it out, so most of her things were still in there. Burying her hand under her clothes, her hand brushed against a piece of paper. Baffled, Heather pulled it out. It was Henry’s note, with the shield on the back.
Astonished, Heather studied the emblem again. It felt like forever ago that she had last seen this; it had been when she found Anirbas and that old lady--
Heather was slammed with a connection. She wasn’t in the classroom anymore, but she still saw the emblem with the kitten, horse, snake, and falcon, shrouded in gold coloring.
The frail, shaking hand of an old lady appeared in the connection. Heather remembered this from when she had chased Anirbas down the hotel hallway. The ancient woman pointed to the section of the shield with the falcon that seemed to glare at Heather.
She spoke in the eerie, raspy voice. “Love kills, trust murders.” She then let out that same terrifying laugh that sent shivers running down Heather’s spine, before releasing Heather from the connection. Heather was startled from the abrupt ending, and slammed her head back against the wall.
Belle looked up from her phone, alarmed. “You okay, Russia?”
Heather glanced at her, rubbing her head. “Yeah, I think so.” Belle smiled, then looked back at her phone.
Heather stared back at the emblem. When she had last made a connection with the crazy old lady, Anirbas had been just around the corner. Literally. She wondered if maybe this new Mordan was close to her now. Heather had looked at the emblem at other times, and the creepy woman hadn’t connected with her. Maybe she only did so when there was a Mordan around.
Belle frowned and looked around the classroom. “Why is this taking so long?” Heather remembered lockdown drills from her school in Boston, and Belle was right. They hardly lasted a minute, and this one had been at least five.
This didn’t feel right. Heather glanced at Mrs. Anderson, and even she had a perplexed expression painted on her face. This sent Heather over the edge. If this was just a drill, the teacher would have known about it.
Ivy.
Heather closed her eyes, and attempted to make a connection to Ivy. All she saw was a flash of a hallway, the doors moving rapidly past her before the connection ended and Heather’s vision consisted of the classroom and the other students.
She paused for a second. She had never been rejected from a connection before. It was strange, as if someone had answered the phone, said, “Hello?” and then threw down the receiver.
However, she had seen what she needed to see.
Ivy had found the Mordan and was chasing it down the hallway, not even bothering to tell Heather.
Mentally cursing Ivy, Heather leapt up and sprinted to the door. She jiggled the door knob, only to find it was locked.
Panicking but trying to appear calm, Heather turned around to face the teacher. “Mrs. Anderson, will you please unlock this door? Now.”
Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “No. I can’t let you go. It’s against school policy. Why would you need to go?”
Heather was aware of thirty different pairs of eyes boring into her skin. She tried to keep her voice steady, and avoided the teacher’s question. “Forget school policy. I need you to unlock this door right now, or hand me the key. Please. I need to get out there, for the safety of all of you.”
Mrs. Anderson faltered for a second, but remained firm. “No. School policy clearly states that all students must remain in the classroom during a lockdown drill, Ms. Marks.”
Belle stepped forward, emerging from the crowd. “What’s going on?”
Heather threw her hands up in frustration and mumbled, “Forget it.” She whipped around, faced the door, and concentrated on one word: zoom.
She closed her eyes, that one word racing around her mind. Her hand began to tingle with energy and she positioned it slightly in front of the door knob. Her eyes flew open.
Her peripheral vision passed by in a blur as her eyes focused in on the door knob. She went past its exterior, and finally stopped when all she could see were the gears, shifts, and bolts that made up the lock. Although she could no longer see her hand, she could feel it slightly spinning, making gears revolve. Heather worked with it for a few more seconds until she heard a satisfying click. She blinked once and everything slammed back to normal. By the gasps echoing around the room and the gaping expressions, Heather knew they had heard the click of the lock, too.
“Russia, how did you--“ Belle began but Heather had already flung the door open. Belle had seemed the most confused of everyone. Heather wondered what they all had seen, but right now, that wasn’t important. Right now, she needed to find Ivy.
Swinging the door shut behind her, she took a left and sprinted down the hallway. Heather had no idea where she was going, but even if she had, she still had no idea where Ivy and the Mordan were. She stumbled to a stop at the end of the hallway. Frantic, she looked left and right, listening for evidence of a Kidellian or a Mordan. Her ears picked up the sound of footsteps and a door slam to her right, and she took off.
Heather darted past rows of lockers and classroom doors. Suddenly, she heard a loud roar, a whooshing sound, and Ivy’s voice screaming, “Oh, come on!” Heather sped up and headed toward the sound. At the end of the hallway were double doors, leading into what Heather assumed was the gymnasium. The noises got louder and louder with each step. Heather burst through the doors, expecting to see the worst. But what she saw was nothing that she had expected at all.