❝grow old along with me. the best is yet to be,
the last of life, for which the first was made.❞
ｒｏｂｅｒｔ ｂｒｏｗｎｉｎｇ
___
ＷＩＴＨ the flashing neon lights, multicoloured streamers and thumping bass beat thrumming against our skins, it is almost easy to forget that we are being watched.
Placed in strategic positions around the room are six security cameras, monitoring our every move, making sure the party doesn't get too out of control. I know I shouldn't be thinking about them. I should be trying to concentrate on the party. Or at least, Willow—it was her birthday after all. But considering the ever-nearing mission am I about to execute, I can't help it.
I'm nervous.
And not even the smell of the cakes from Aunt Victoria's bakery (which I'd managed to convince her to ship over here) or the excitement buzzing off my friends around me can distract me from my worries for long enough.
"Congrats, Willow, you're officially an adult. What are you going to do with that terrifying thought?"
At the sound of his voice, my eyes shift to Markus who envelops Willow in a hug. In his hands, behind her back, is a small, flat, gift-wrapped box which he hands to her at the end of their friendly embrace. So he did get her a gift after all.
"Markus!" Cass chides, "You're not supposed to say things like that."
"Oh, young, innocent Cassandra. You'll understand when you're older," Markus retorts, receiving a questioning look from all three of us.
Cass rolls her eyes, nudging Markus out of the way so she can hug Willow instead.
"Happy birthday, Wil," she says, grinning as she squeezes Willow's shoulders. Then in a murmur, she adds, "I don't know how you put up with him alone for so long."
"Heard that," Markus snaps back, though not looking particularly offended.
"You were supposed to," Cass replies, sticking her tongue out at him.
"Save World War Three till later," Willow says, laughing. "Thanks guys. All of you. This is amazing. I honestly wasn't expecting a surprise party as big as this one. And even the way you led me in here was genius."
"Oh, that was all Emma," Cass replies, bringing me into the group hug.
"Really?" Willow's eyes flicker to mine.
"It was a group effort really," I say shrugging.
Just under an hour ago, the three of us were sat around a cupcake in the deserted dining area, watching as a disappointed Willow blew out her sole birthday candle. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know why Willow was disappointed—we had spent the entire day downplaying her birthday, and even then, the guys hadn't even shown up to watch her cut into her 'cake' and neither Cass nor I had done as much as give her a birthday card.
What Willow didn't realise was that the reason for half our table's absence was that they were finishing off the final touches on the Rec Room. We didn't reveal anything until Willow was about to take a bite out of her cupcake:
"There's more cake," I had said. "If you can teleport to the source."
In a flash, Willow was gone, like a bloodhound with the power of teleportation, she found the source in no time... a large, two tiered birthday cake with blue and white frosting, and behind it, half a hundred people simultaneously wishing her a happy birthday.
What had surprised me the most, when Cass and I eventually turned up ourselves, was how many people had showed up. But maybe, it was expected, Willow had after all, known most of these people since she was 14. That's four years. She was bound to have more friendships that exceeded our own little group. (That or Logan was very liberal with the invite list).
"I'm just glad you convinced me to dress up before the whole cake thing," Willow replies with a grin. "I was a bit suspicious at first, when you insisted..."
"But now you're glad we didn't let you keep your matching Hogwarts pyjama set on?" I reply, grinning back.
"Hey! Don't hate on the Hogwarts PJs!" Willow says, feigning offence. "But... yes. Some things do not need to be seen by 50 plus camera holding teens."
"And don't mind me saying, but your makeup is ah-mazing," Cass says.
"Of course you don't mind saying it, Cass," I laugh. "You're the one who did it. But I've got to agree. You look really nice, Wil."
"Oh my gawsh, it totes magotes is! And your brows are like, so on fleek," Markus gushes dramatically. Then letting his face drop into an unamused, expressionless look, he says monotonously, "I can't even."
We all roll our eyes at him.
"Shut up, Markus," Cass and I say in unison while Willow giggles her thanks.
"I need to find people who'll appreciate me," Markus whines. "Where'd Logan and Cole go."
"Well, Cole looks trapped between four people over there." Cass points to the corner of the room where all that can be seen of Cole is his signature white locks. "If you want to try your luck freeing him."
"He'd probably appreciate it too," Willow observes. "He's been stuck there since that group over there came over to wish me happy birthday." Markus winces, as if the idea of also being stuck in a never ending interrogation sounded like his worse nightmare. "Logan was with him too at first, but then he went to put some gifts down at the gift table and he hasn't been back since."
"Isn't the gift table right by the pool table?" I ask.
Cass groans. "That boy gets way too competitive over pool. He probably got distracted."
"Guess I know where I'm going," Markus decides, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. "Grant me luck, birthday girl, I'll be betting on your gifts, by the way."
We watch as Markus's tall frame disappears into the sea of people, becoming another speck in the hormone filled playground we'd christened as Willow's Birthday Bash (as had been aptly written on the large banner that was strung across the ceiling).
"I think... he was joking," Willow says. "He's joking, right?"
"Of course," I respond lightly, lying through my teeth. Honestly, I couldn't tell either, but I didn't want Willow to spend her night worrying about our crazy half Japanese friend.
"It's okay, I was keeping an inventory for you—anything he loses, he replaces." Cass reassures. "Now. I have a feeling this super-long intro is the beginning of the greatest song of our generation, so I need the both of you to shut up and come dance with me."
"I wouldn't go as far as say the greatest..." Willow teases.
"Yeah, yeah. Shush, Peters. Obviously, you know nothing when it comes to music," Cass replies jokingly as she drags the two of us into the centre of the room where a temporary dance floor has been set up.
Cass and Willow have no qualms with being centre stage, they move rhythmically to the beat without a care in the world, as if today might as well be the last chance they'd get to have fun before they're forced to reembark the oneway rollercoaster ride leading to Crazy-town. Looking around the room, I notice most of the other students are acting the same.
They move and dance freely, feeding off each other's spirits, their laughters become the melody, the thumping bass in sync with their beating hearts. They form their own rhythm. They create their own song. It's almost a desperate last grab at that high school, teenage experience they never got. The one filled with angst and rebellion and pure reckless abandon that only a regular teenager would ever be able to get away with.
And it strikes me, that perhaps, in some absurd way, I'm the only one in the room who ever had a chance of getting that.
And I wonder: is this what Andrew meant by a 'proper' party?
"What is it?"
Cass has noticed I'm not dancing. It's too loud to try responding verbally, so I don't bother. I simply smile and shrug. The routine usually worked on Willow, but Cass had a way of prying, of looking at you until you squirmed and wanted to reveal all your deepest darkest secrets. She stops dancing, comes up closer and looks at me with those soft brown eyes, and in a tone that rang with genuine care, she asks again, "What's wrong?"
"It's just that... I... I've never done anything like this before. Dancing. Parties. I think the last time I willingly attended a party full of other people my age, I was eight," I say. "I don't know what to do. Even among people who are supposed to be like me, I can't act normal."
Somewhere along the line, I get frustrated to the point of near tears. I bring my hand up to shield my face, to hide my embarrassment, but Cass catches it in time.
"Hey. Hey, it's okay," Cass says soothingly. "You want to know a secret? None of us do. If you think you're inexperienced, remember: none of us here have actually gone to a real high school. All our experiences are from movies and what people back home tell us. But we don't let that get us down, we make our own normal. We redefine it. Close your eyes and do what you feel like doing. Do what the music tells you. Let go. Go crazy. And don't let someone else's definition define you. Be your own normal."
"Be my own normal," I repeat with a wan smile. "You'd be a great motivational speaker, y'know?"
"I also write gift cards. I'm especially good at the cheesy ones," Cass jokes. "Now come on. Dance. Redefine normal."
❧
When it nears the time of our departure, my eyes drift to Cole more and more often.
Cass's pep talk helped. By now, I wasn't worried anymore of doing the wrong thing. Dancing, having fun, enjoying myself; it all comes as easy as breathing. For the first time all night, I wasn't worried about the possible dangers Cole's and my mission could result in.
Cole is the complete opposite.
At first glance, you'd never guess. It's the way he carries himself. The charisma in his eyes as he looks at you. The relaxed velvety way he spoke that could fool you into believing anything he said. That cool, confident air of bravado that had permanent residence around him. No, at first glance, Cole looked like he fit right in.
It's only upon closer look that you realise that part is a facade. That on the inside, he hates this. Being here. Surrounded by people and their prying eyes. Vultures latching onto him, realising this may be their only true opportunity to truly find out who the mysterious Cole Frost is.
What they don't realise, is that no matter how many times they asked, the answer would be the same: he didn't know.
Because if I never learnt how to have fun, then Cole was never taught the word in the first place.
His latest groupies consists of three junior girls and Cole looks about ready to kill himself.
When I catch his gaze (which doesn't take too long, considering my staring is often never one-sided), I raise my index fingers to the corners my lips, twisting them upwards and dragging them up my cheeks in the motion of a smile.
He's seen it, I know. And he knows what it meant. Because now he is sending me a sulky glower and a sarcastic smile in his response before resuming entertaining his admirers.
"I should probably go rescue Cole now," I tell Willow. Cass had disappeared not too long ago in search of Logan and Markus (mostly Logan), to convince him to leave his beloved pool table and remember who the party was for.
Willow nods, motioning from her throat, to the cup in my hand to the snack bar. "I'm going to get a drink."
I nod back and we part our separate ways.
Cole physically brightens when he sees me approaching. He mutters a a quick, flippant apology to the trio and cuts across the room, meeting me halfway.
"Finally," he says.
"Hi to you too—"
Before I can even finish my greeting, Cole takes the empty cup out of my hand, sets it down on a random table, then he drags me into the opposite direction into a more secluded corner of the room.
Noticing my befuddlement, Cole quickly explains, "It's a dead zone. Awkward angling. No camera can visually record anything that's done here."
"Right." After straightening out my outfit, which consisted of a black and white striped v-neck top with a lace-up front and a pair of acid wash skinny jeans, I look up at Cole to survey his outfit: a white, form fitting tee, jeans and a leather jacket which he'd taken off earlier. It was admittedly basic, but I suppose that's what happens when the school does all your shopping for you. Besides, it wasn't as if Cole didn't make it work. (Then again, Cole could probably make a bin bag lined with yak fur work).
Now, Cole is putting his jacket back on. He's talking about something, it sounded like a complaint—how people couldn't shut up. Or leave him alone. Something like that. I wasn't too sure. My mind was too busy, overrun with disappointment at the loss of Cole's perfect physique behind the faux leather covering, and frustration as this action continues to mussing up his already mussed up hair.
Come on, Emma. Get a grip. You're on a time schedule.
"Your collar is all messed up," I blurt out.
Or not.
Cole reaches to fix it, but I bat his hand away and sort it out for him, trying not to look at him as I do.
I glance back to the dance floor. Willow hasn't returned yet, this would be the perfect time to go. I can feel Cole's eyes on me as I run my hands down his jacket, reluctant to let go until the last moment where I rip myself off him entirely and take two steps back.
"We should probably go now," I say. "Looks like the party is at its... er, peak."
Cole looks around, nodding in agreement. "You've got the maps?"
"And other things," I reply. "It's just outside, we'll get them on the way." My gaze drifts back to the centre of the room. "I feel bad for leaving Wil's party like this."
"We'll be back before she even knows," Cole replies nonchalantly, leading the way out. "Think of this as a mission for the greater good."
I scoff, "You're only saying that 'cause you want to leave early."
Cole scoffs back. "Me? I'm practically the life of the party."
"Sure you were."
"Glad we're in agreement." Cole doesn't skip a beat, only turning his head backwards to deliver that comment with a grin and watch my reaction.
"You're insufferable," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go already."
❧
"We can't talk from here on," I whisper. "The halls echo too much. It could trigger an alarm."
Cole nods, slowly, silently following my lead down the abandoned corridor.
Morgana's office is located in the older area of the building. It is here the gothic architecture truly shined. We'd had to walk across a balcony that bridged across two towers of the building and I could've sworn I saw at least three gargoyles on the way if not more.
The grey stoned walls aren't crumbling, but they smell as if they are. The entire block has this old medieval castle feel to it, both in looks and ambience. It looks deceptively old-fashioned—but I know better.
I count my steps until we reach a certain wall, then I halt. The sun had set long ago, but there are still remnants of a dusty pink, indigo haze trailing across the sky, tinting the archaic stone walls, reminding me how exposed we are, despite the fact there isn't a single soul in sight .
I lightly put pressure on three specific points of the wall, just pushing hard enough until I hear the familiar beeping of a door opening.
Then I proceed to opening the main lock on the door. Usually, Cass had told me, Morgana just used the handprint scanner and she'd be in in seconds, but she had a failsafe lock installed, in case that didn't work, which Cass knew the codes to.
Or rather, the series of codes.
Cole watches as I first have to input an eight-digit password, then twist three locks, insert Cass's ID card (which I may or may not have borrowed under the pretence that I'd forgotten mine), then choose the right combination to press a set of flashing coloured buttons before the door finally opens.
Cole leans in to whisper. "Well someone's paranoid."
"We're breaking into her office," I whisper back. "I'd say she kind of has a reason to be."
Before, when Cass and I had come here, she'd left me outside by the door, so I hadn't actually seen the inside. It's smaller than I expected, but that doesn't really matter—I didn't come here for its size, I came for its full length wall behind her desk filled with hundreds of files encased behind a thick pane of glass.
"I guess we can't just smash it?" Cole asks.
"Not if we don't want to be detected," I reply.
"Of course." Cole sighs. "Wait, I can see a safe. It looks like it's connected to a lever."
"You think it's operated by that?" I ask, coming closer. "This thing looks ancient."
"I think that's the point. For someone to get through to this stage, they'd be used to hacking new-style gadgets and locks. Something as old-school as a lever controlled safe would throw them off," Cole responds, observing the mechanism with skepticism. "I think I could open it."
"Of course you just casually know how to crack a safe."
I watch as Cole works, swiftly and smoothly. Like this was second nature to him. It doesn't take long before I hear the whooshing sound of compressed air escaping, indicating he'd done it. Only problem though, is that the door is still closed.
"Hmm," Cole murmurs to himself.
"What?"
"It's stuck." Cole pauses. "Wait, come here. I've got an idea."
I do as he says, crouching down beside him.
"Remember that trick we were practicing the other day?" he asks.
"The melting one?" I reply. He nods. "You... want me to melt it down?"
"No. Yes. Just slightly. Soften it up a bit. Then I'll refreeze it. That might help loosen it."
"That's if the sudden change between two extreme temperatures doesn't completely shatter the lock first," I counter.
"Got any other ideas?"
I pause. No. I don't. And time is running out too. We should be heading back to Willow's party soon.
"Fine, let's get this over with," I agree, bringing my heated palms to the lock.
"Gently."
"I know, I know."
We take turns, heating the metal up, then cooling it down, until the final lever clicks and the door unlocks, triggering the pulley system that removed the glass barrier on the file shelf.
"I can't believe that actually worked."
"You need to have more faith in me," Cole retorts simply, getting up to scan the wall for my file. "Sparke. It's over there."
I walk over to the file labelled 'SPARKE E.' and pull it out, grateful that it didn't any trigger alarms or emergency locks. We didn't need any more setbacks.
Cole hovers above my shoulder as I slowly unclip the file.
"We should make sure it's the right one," I say shakily.
He nods. "Do you want me to look away, or...?"
"No. It's okay. Stay." I slowly begin to flick through the pages. The first few pages are basic information. Name, age, date of birth. A copy of my birth certificate (or maybe my actual birth certificate? I wasn't sure how much the DA had access to). There's a brief description of my powers, with a brief commentary from both Idina and Professor Horowitz on both aspects of my growth. What my piques my interest is the subdivider titled 'Origins'.
I turn to that section, but come to regret it milliseconds later.
"Is that..." Cole murmurs.
Right there on the front page, is them.
My parents.
After the fire.
Pictures from the autopsy. Their charred bodies, burnt nearly beyond recognition. Their blackened cloths clung to them, almost as tightly as they did to each other. The only way you could recognise my mother was the glistening necklace that rested around her neck. The same one that is now around mine. I feel sick. I feel confused. I don't know whether to rip it off and throw it away, or cherish it even more because of this.
I don't know how long I stare at the picture before Cole takes the file out of my hands, shutting it firmly so I no longer have to torture myself.
Cole opens his mouth; he is about to speak when—
There are voices outside.
"Was it truly necessary for you to leave it here?"
That sounded like Morgana.
"I didn't want Willow to accidentally stumble on it. It was too big to hide in my room, especially since she's over there every two days."
That was definitely Cass.
"Besides, you said your meeting was nearly over. And I can't remember what I did with my pass."
Morgana sighs. "Very well, hurry. I'll wait outside."
At the sound of the door unlocking, Cole and I look at each other in alarm.
"Table," he hisses.
Simultaneously, we dive under Morgana's study table. Breathing shallowly, praying we won't get found out.
Seconds later, and neither Morgana nor Cass say a word. The door remains closed.
I send Cole a confused look. What was going on out there?
Seconds pass, and still nothing happens.
We're huddled too close together to move without creating noise. I could feel his skin buzzing with adrenaline under mine. I could hear the way his breath caught in his throat as he strained his ears to listen to what was going on outside. I could hear his rapidly accelerating heartbeat. It was too distracting. I couldn't concentrate.
"Well," I murmur quietly, "this is awkward."
"It's only awkward because you're making it awkward," Cole replies. I disagreed. "Do you think they're gone?"
"I don't know. I feel like this table is sound absorbent."
"Was thinking that too," Cole whispers back. "I'm heading out."
"What? No! Cole, that's an awful idea—!" I whisper back harshly, but Cole is already halfway out.
Huffing in aggravation, I follow behind him suit. "Unbelievable."
"There's no one here," Cole says. "They must've gone—"
His victory is short-lived.
Before a single word can be uttered, the door creaks open.
A foot steps in.
And standing there, with my file still in his hand is Cole. And just two feet away is me, the guilt on my face as obvious as if it were written in thick blood red paint across my forehead.
Yeah. We're so dead.
:: 💫 ::
Jeez. I swear, I honestly didn't mean for this chapter to be as long as it turned out. I got wayyy too carried away in the party scene, but I hope you all enjoyed the cheesiness. I do hallmark cards as well.
Seeing as this took so long to write (honestly, I'm putting off so much revision right now it's not even funny), and the next chapter is looking to be about 3000+ words as well (this is practically 4000), expect chapter 29 by ...Monday(?).
We'll see. (But will Emma and Cole???? Dun dun dunnnnn).
♕ Carmen ♕