❝i have late night conversations with the moon.
he tells me about the sun and i tell him about you.❞
ｓ. ｌ. ｇｒａｙ
___
ＴＨＥＲＥ is an ocean between the island and me, yet when I fly, it seems almost infinitesimal.
The sea is a blur of blue, speckled in glitter, capturing sunlight in its waves and releasing it again into the deep in a flurry of white crashes. I fly as low as I dare, watching the sea flash with gold, as the flames around me illuminate my reflection. This is the fastest I've ever flown, but it's no surprise why — I am being chased. By memories, by worries, by the faces that haunt my dreams. And until I'm ready to face them, my only choice is to run away.
The distance between me and the island dwindles rapidly, and soon I know I'll have to make a decision: to land or not to land?
I rise higher into the sky the closer I get to the island. Slowly, tentatively, I circle it, pondering over my options. Then something on the ground catches my eye and I realise there was never any choice in the first place.
It starts simple.
A small twinkling light from a nearby settlement goes out. A ringing alarm bell. Then sirens. Then a flash of red and blue dashing down the narrow roads after it. A car chase, I realise.
From my viewpoint, the vehicles are the size of toy cars zooming round a race track. I hover closer to the ground to watch the scene unfurl.
Minutes later and the police still haven't caught the driver of the vehicle. My eyes trail after the perpetrator. They are nearing a crowded area. If they could barrage that road before he drives down there they could cut him off and corner him in, I think to myself.
Without further thought, I fly ahead in the direction the getaway driver intended to turn, kicking a pile of broken branches into the road and lighting them on fire in a line that spans the length of the road,
WEEE-OHH! WEEE-OHH! WEEE-OHH!
That must be the police, they are coming soon. Both of them.
I shoot into the air, landing on the roof of a nearby building to enable me to watch the action.
At the site of the blockaded roads, the driver swerves sharply, marking the roads in black as he skids to a stop.
Moments later the police catch up to him and he's apprehended.
I watch from the shadows as the perpetrator is handcuffed and transferred to one of the police cars, then I slip away, into the dusk and fly back to the DA. And for reasons I can't fully comprehend, my heart feels lighter. I can smile without having to force it. I can relax without having to think. Perhaps I may not be able to solve my own problems yet, but at least I can solve other people's.
Maybe that's why I return again the following day.
And two days after that.
And a week after that.
Maybe it's the want to forget, to stop feeling so helpless that drives me back to that same balcony. That drives me to fall out of the skies and into the arms of danger.
My visits never last longer than an hour or two. I circle the island, finding comfort in watching the simplicity of the inhabitants' daily life. I linger until I encounter a problem, then as soon as the problem is solved, I fly away.
The following evening that I return, I rescue a cat from a tree. Then, the time after that I stop a mugging while searching the streets for the cafe Logan and I went to last time. Days later, I find myself diving into a burning building to rescue a family of four.
The tasks range in their complexity, but the outcome is always the same: the feeling of being able to breathe again. It returns each time I help someone, and it's addicting.
I'm back on the island again. This time I'm coaxing yet another cat out of a tree, and trying not to feel homesick when it reminds me of Cleo. And when Cleo reminds me of my aunt and uncle. Who remind me of—
"Here you go," I say promptly placing the cat into the arms of a little boy, despite knowing he can't understand a word I'm saying.
The child's eyes light up. He says something in a dialect I don't understand but I've come to recognise as 'thank you' — except it's accompanied by a new phrase that I've heard other residents whisper to each other a couple times.
It seems to be some sort of nickname they had for me.
That means the boy recognises me.
I watch as he runs off to meet his friends, and they use that word again, conversing excitedly between themselves.
My smile wanes for a brief second. I might have to start wearing a mask soon— these people may not know who I am, but even a single picture could reveal my identity to the world, and possibly expose everyone in the Dauntley Academy.
I glance at my watch to check the time. My hour is nearly up. The longer I stay out, the more suspicious my absence becomes. I should head back.
❧
"Remember: just because you have a month to do your project does not mean you should leave it to the night before," Grahams warns the class. It may be the second week back, but that doesn't mean she plans on going easy on us. She's spent the last ten minutes of World History explaining an oncoming project she's assigned for us. We each had to choose a topic or area in the war to focus on and make a presentation on it.
It's as if the moment I step back on Beta, everything returns to normal. There is no talk of secrets or traitors or trust. It's just school and lessons and tests. A repetitive cycle of things that remain constant, no matter where you are. Things I can handle.
The moment the bell rings, students begin to file out, sharing ideas on what to do their project around. I glance around the room. A frown tugs at my lips.
"Is it just me or does the class seem emptier than usual," I say as I sling my bag across my shoulder.
Logan and Markus arch round to face me. Markus shrugs his shoulders. Logan's gaze quickly flickers from me to survey the room. He shrugs as well. "Some people must be off sick," he suggests. "Or transferred electives."
"I guess..."
I trail out the room after Logan and Markus, yet I'm not able to shake off the nagging feeling telling me that there must be something more to the story.
Outside the classroom, we bump into Cole and Willow coming out of a lesson, along with a pretty Chinese girl that I recognise from Willow's party and around school.
"Bye, Liu. Talk later," Willow waves goodbye as they part ways. Her eyebrows raise in surprise when she spots us. "Oh. You guys are actually out on time?"
"Grams was in a good mood today," Markus grins.
"Does such a thing exist?" Willow questions. "You guys always talk about her like she's a drill sergeant."
"Shush, she might hear you," Logan says jokingly, looking around him in a comically frightened manner.
Willow, Markus and Logan delve into a new conversation as we walk together towards the lunch hall, but it all flies over my head the moment Cole slips his hand in mine.
He pulls me closer to him, slowing down so we're walking a few feet behind the rest of the group.
"You okay?" he leans in to whisper.
I squeeze his hand. "Why do you ask that?"
"You've been acting off since last week. Like something has been bothering you. Is everything okay?"
I remain silent for a moment. We slow down even further. The distance between us and the rest widens.
"Let's go somewhere quiet." Cole's grip on my hand tightens as he veers us in the direction of the nearest empty classroom, shutting the door behind us.
"Wha—Cole!" I exclaim. "The others, they might think that we're—"
"That we're what?" Cole raises an eyebrow.
I blush, looking away. "Nothing."
Cole goes to lean against a table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well? Care to explain now?"
I sigh, reaching for the inner pocket of my jacket. "Last week, when I went to check about what happened to my sessions with Professor Horowitz, I found something." I hand the letter to Cole. "It's a note. Horowitz wrote some sort of letter with a code in it. I've written the numbers out at the bottom of the page as you can tell, but I haven't figured out the code yet."
I watch Cole read the letter in silence, raising an eyebrow at the string of numbers I've scribbled at the bottom of the note. He flips over to the back before realising it's one-sided.
"Obviously," I blurt, wanting to fill in the silence, "I'm assuming the parts that were underlined were just meant as distractors."
"Or for emphasis."
"Or for emphasis," I repeat. "But I still haven't figured out what it is. The pattern of the numbers is too short to spell a word out, but it's too long for a standard password — and even then, for what? It can't be binary 'cause it isn't just ones and zeros. I've even crosschecked it with ASCII and still..." I blow out a breath. "Nothing."
"Maybe it's a book code," Cole suggests, finally looking up from the piece of paper.
"A what?"
"You know, the ISBN number all books have. Maybe it's that."
I close the gap between us, taking a second look at the piece of paper. "You think?" I reread the text again. Horowitz had said my file would not be enough. It would make sense. "You might be right."
"Want me to look into it? I could try to find out if there are any books with the same number."
"No it's okay," I reply. "You've already done so much for me, I don't want to bother you. I can handle this."
I look down. A piece of hair falls into my face, I lift a hand to brush it away but Cole's reaches there first. His fingers stroke my face tenderly, tucking the stray strands behind my ear. "I know you can handle it," he says softly, "but just remember—I'm here if you ever don't want to handle it, okay?"
I strain a smile. "Okay."
❧
After a week long absence, Morgana returns from her trip.
Just as her absence is not discussed, neither is her return: there are no fanfares or fireworks — just a message from one of the lab assistants telling me that I had a meeting with her later on.
Despite our decision to not trust Morgana, Cole and Cass both agree that I should go to the meeting. After all, it would be more suspicious if I tried to make an excuse without hearing what she had to say. And like Cass had said, it wasn't like she could try anything in a school full of witnesses. It's better to act like I've got nothing to hide.
Though of course, Cole and Cass don't know exactly how much I have to hide.
So as I seat myself in front of Morgana, waiting for her to speak, I try to gage the topic of the conversation by analysing her face and her general composure.
Overall, Morgana looks the same as usual: same sleek dark hair, smooth dark skin, and piercing dark brown eyes. It's the little things that change — the eye-bags threatening to form under her tired eyes, the way she keeps one arm still, wincing at the slightest movement...
Did she recently get injured?
I never even considered that a possibility for someone of her position.
Morgana lifts her pen off her notebook and shuts it, looking up. She's finally ready to address me.
"Thank you for waiting patiently," she tells me in a level tone. "I'm sure you must be wondering why I called you here."
Understatement of the century.
I laugh nervously, donning a smile. "A bit, yes."
Morgana observes me for a second. Her lips part. She looks like she's about to say something, but she purses them again and reconsiders. "Your peers, Cassandra and Nicolas. They took residence at your home over the vacation. Due to the short notice, I was unable to confer with your guardians beforehand, but I trust everything was fine."
That's what she wants to talk about???
"Oh. Yes, it was," I say. "Everything went fine. My aunt and uncle didn't mind."
"There were no issues, then? None at all? Nothing troubling you?" Morgana's eyes are as probing as her questions. I look away for fear the longer I stare, the more answers she can dig out from me.
"No," I respond quietly. "None at all."
Morgana says nothing. She sits in silence, observing me. "Okay," she concludes. "Thank you for coming. That is all."
I look up abruptly. "Really? That's all?"
Where's the rest of the interrogation I've been dreading all day? Where are the questions about my nightly activities from when I used to sneak around with Cole, and my newfound hobby of visiting the neighbouring islands? Where's the repercussions for repetitively using my powers outside of the DA? Or for breaking into her office and stealing my files — not once but twice?!
Morgana quirks a brow. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
I look away again. "Uh, no," I say sheepishly. "That's all from me too. Thank you."
I stand up hurriedly and rush out the room. At least I've survived for now.
Outside Morgana's office, I run into Markus. I have a free period next so I planned to go to the library. It seems Markus had the same idea. Since the hallway leads in the same direction, we decide to walk together.
"Since when do you go to the library?" Markus asks me quizzically.
"I go to the library. Sometimes," I protest. "Since when did you?"
"Touché," Markus concedes. "I lost one of my math textbooks so I was looking to see if they had a spare there I could borrow."
"You mean steal."
"I'll have you know, I had every intention of returning it. Eventually. Maybe a couple months down the line." I snort. Markus rolls his eyes. "What about you?"
By now, we're lingering by the entrance of the library. I slow down and pull out a small piece of paper that had the 10-digit code written on it with nothing else. After a moment's deliberation, I hand it to Markus.
"I'm looking for a book with this ISBN number. D'you think they'll have it?"
Markus brings the piece of paper closer to his face, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration.
"Hmm," he murmurs. "This is a ten-digit code. Current ones have thirteen. That means the last copy of this specific edition you'll be looking for was published sometime between the nineteen seventies and 2007."
I blink. Staring at him, wide-eyed. "How do you even know that?"
Markus lifts his eyes off the paper, his gaze flickering down to mine. He grins. "Believe it or not, Sparko, but there are some brain cells kicking around this old noggin'." He knocks the side of his head jokingly, handing the strip of paper back to me.
"I'll keep that in mind," I reply humorously.
Markus sobers up. "I have a feeling what you're looking for won't be in the mainstream section, you'll have better luck trying the restricted section first. From what I remember there's a catalogue with all the ISBN numbers there in numerical order. You can try that."
Markus nods me goodbye before he parts ways, splitting off to go to a different section of the library.
My eyes furrow. How did he know—?
And then it occurs to me: he's done something like this before. They all have. When they went searching for what the 'FREAKS' acronym meant.
Huh.
I stand in my spot, thinking over this, wondering what would drive a group of 15/16 year olds to look into something like this.
My eyes drift over to the older part of the library where I recall the 'Restricted' books to be located. I force myself to move my feet in that direction.
The shelves in the Restricted section look almost as archaic as the books they bear. I stretch my hand out to feel the spine of the books, but I immediately decide against it, retracting my hand again. I feel like half of them would crumble to dust if I touch them.
After ten minutes of searching through online book logs and rows of shelves, I finally stumble upon a book that matches the ISBN number Horowitz had given me. I cautiously pull it out to take a look at the title.
THE HIDDEN ALLIES
1939 - present
Being in the Restricted aisle meant the book had to be signed by a member of staff each time it was checked out. I open it, turning to the front page. Sure enough, there was Professor Horowitz signature in the table stuck there. He was the last person to check it out. Cole is right. This must be what Professor Horowitz wanted me to find.
I close the book again, staring at the front cover. The question now is, why did he want me to find it?
"That's a pretty ominous-looking book you got there," Markus comments, suddenly appearing behind me. "What's it for?"
I jump, surprised. "I didn't hear you coming, you almost gave me a heart attack, Markus, sneaking up on me like that. I thought you finding a math textbook?"
"I was. I have." Markus lifts his right hand up, waving a textbook in front of my face. "Only problem now is checking out. I've been waiting for a while and the librarian hasn't shown up." His eyes drift back to the book. "So what exactly is that for?"
"I was thinking maybe I could base my history project on it," I bluff. "But do you think I'll be allowed to check it out?"
"Probably not," Markus decides, "but lucky for you, today is your lucky day." He swipes the book out of my hand, walking in front of me. "Come with me, I've got an idea."
"What?" I respond, frowning. With a sigh, I hurry after him, already feeling wary.
Markus smiles mischievously. "It's only the oldest trick in the book." He throws the two books in his backpack then lifts it over the two alarmed pillars that go off whenever an unchecked book left the library.
I raise my fingers to my ears, ready for the alarm to go off. It doesn't.
What...? Could it really have been that easy?
"Usually the librarian is watching over to stop people like doing things like that, but it's not like people read much these days anyway. And she's not here either so the security has gotten pretty lax," Markus explains.
"Oh."
"Here." Markus returns the book back to me. "Don't worry, we'll return them soon, so you don't have to feel guilty about it."
"If you say so..." I reply reluctantly. "Thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome," Markus responds. "Well, I'm off now. Catch you later, Sparko."
"Bye." I wave Markus goodbye, then I take out my phone to text Cole a short message.
ＭＥ: You were right. I've found it.
❧
Two days later, I find myself back on the island, balancing on the edge of an old bridge.
I close my eyes, and take in a deep breath. Then I take a step forward and fall.
Falling is all about timing. Lifting up too early is too disorienting, but waiting to long is just as dangerous — more so even. I'm halfway to the ground when I finally ignite my hands and feet, swooping up and soaring higher into the sky.
It's reckless, but when my heart beats faster, I feel alive again. I stop feeling so numb to all the drama around me. When I fly, the burden of all the lies and secrets falls off as easily as gravity's hold on me.
As usual by now, the sky is too dark to see the land clearly and I'm flying too high up to spot any trouble. So when I see flames flickering from a nearby forest, I rush over as quickly as I can.
The sound of panicked shouting when I fly closer confirms my fear: it's a forest fire.
In recent visits, I've taken to wearing my Enrichment training gear when I fly out here. The material is more breathable and more importantly, fireproof, so I don't have to be as careful of burning my clothes off each time I use my powers to fly or run into burning places.
I land on the ground close to where I heard the noise come from and I search the area until I encounter a young couple. The fire had yet to fully take fully over this part of the forest, however one of them seemed to have gotten caught under the trunk of a fallen tree and his girlfriend looked like she was having difficulty in pulling him out alone.
I gesture for the girl to follow me, leading her out the area and urging her to go find help elsewhere. Once I'm sure she — along with everyone else in the area — has been evacuated safely, I go back for the man. The air is thick with smoke. The fire is quickly spreading, but I try not to think about this as I push the tree log off him. I'd be okay, but he wouldn't.
Speaking of...
After several heaves and pushes, I successfully pull the log off the man. To avoid burning him, I quickly slip on a pair of heat-proof gloves I packed before I help him to his feet.
"D'you think you can walk?" I ask, throwing his arm over my shoulder.
The man responds with a confused look until I mimic the motion with my fingers. His face clears in comprehension. He attempts to take a step forward but almost immediately, his knees buckle and he winces, nearly dropping to the ground.
I sigh. "I'll take that as a no."
I glance around us for ideas on how to get out this situation. The flames would soon surround us and by that point it would be too late.
I hobble forward, trying to take as much of the man's weight as possible. It seems we're almost out of the danger zone when a large branch overhead snaps, nearly crushing the two of us.
On instinct, I raise my palm towards it, burning through the glove and incinerating the branch so that its sooty ashes fall on us instead. To my dismay, this action inadvertently causes the neighbouring foliage to ignite, burning with a rapidly growing fire that soon encircles us.
It is times like these where I hate my powers.
Fire is like a rumour. It only takes a little spark to start one, but once it starts spreading, it's difficult to control and next to impossible to take back. I can't take back this fire even if I want to.
I grimace. It's so easy to destroy the things around me, yet so difficult to protect the things closest to me.
So now what? We're trapped here, with no escape route — except if I choose to abandon this man, that is. I don't want to think about that yet.
I'm about to give up all hope when I feel a frosty breeze surround me.
I watch as in the matter of a minute, the woods around me are covered in a thick, frosty blanket of snow that immediately quells the flames.
The man beside me mutters something in a foreign language, frantically looking around to catch a glimpse of our saviour. I don't bother. I have a feeling I already know who it is.
❧
Local paramedics and firefighters flood the scene shortly after. I watch the aftermath from a distance, my arms wrapped my legs as I curl up on the highest rooftop I can find.
I sit in silence until I feel a slight chill tickle my skin.
"How did you know I was here?" I ask Cole quietly, without turning around.
"Cass was hounding me yesterday about where you and I were sneaking off too again, because it was disrupting her sleep pattern," he says. "It took a while to convince her I had no idea where you were."
I remain silent.
"Once I realised you weren't on the island, all it took was a talk with Logan to find out which island you pit-stopped at in January. Guess I shouldn't have been that surprised to find out what you've been doing here."
I say nothing.
I hear footsteps slowly approach me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Cole settles down beside me, looking straight forward.
Here it comes.
This is the part where he tells me off. Where he admonishes me for coming here by myself, for pointlessly endangering myself, time and time again, for having little regard for the people who know and care and worry about me.
I can feel his gaze on me. His lips part. He speaks:
"Are you okay?"
I blink rapidly, turning to him with round eyes.
That's not the response I expected.
The concern in his cerulean eyes are too much to bear. I turn away again.
From beside me, I feel Cole shuffle closer, narrowing the gap between us. Yet I can't look up. I don't want to see his disappointment in me.
"You know," he says, "nothing ever gets solved when you suffer in silence."
He says nothing else. He simply watches me until I speak.
"No."
"Hm?"
"No," I repeat, shuffling up closer and resting my head on his shoulder. "No, I'm not okay. I hate lying all the time. I hate not being able to trust anyone. I hate that I can spend all day worrying about my aunt and uncle but there's nothing I can do about it — I can't even talk to them about any of this. I just have to leave them in the dark and pretend everything is okay. I— I... I'm not sure if I can take this for much longer. I don't think I can keep on pretending like everything is okay."
Cole's arm slowly snakes around my waist. He leans his head against mine.
"I can't speak for anyone else, but if it's any consolation, know you never have to pretend in front of me, okay?" he murmurs. "We're in this together, remember?"
He pulls away to examine me.
My heart flutters. I give him a watery smile. "I remember."
Satisfied with my response, Cole wraps an arm around me, taking my hand in his and poking his finger into the singed hole in my glove.
"So... is that also the reason you keep sneaking off here?" he finally asks.
I consider this for a moment.
"Not quite."
Cole pauses his action. He raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I sigh.
"Have you ever felt like running away?"
Cole cocks his head to the side. "What?"
"My aunt said when she was younger, she used to run away all the time — always made my mom worry about it. Recently, I think I've begun to understand why. It might not always help solve your problems, but it helps put things into perspective, I think. It makes the weight of the world feel a little bit lighter." I trail off. "Sometimes I feel like running away because I'm afraid if I stay in one place too long, I'll end up drowning in my own problems."
A sombre look casts over Cole's face. "And what will you do when you run away? Where will you go?"
I don't respond.
I haven't thought that far yet.
Cole's eyes flit over to mine. "Most times, when we run away, we're actually still running towards something. We're just taking the longer way to get there."
My eyes flick over to Cole's, watching the way the moon illuminates his face, highlighting the contours of his visage, from his defined cheekbones to his hard-set jawline.
"Thank you," I mumble, "for helping back there. At that forest fire. I'm not sure it would have all wrapped up so nicely if you hadn't turned up."
Cole wordlessly stares at me for a full minute without giving me any form of reply. Then without warning, he rises to his feet and extends a hand to me.
"C'mon," he says. "Get up."
"Where are we going?" I ask, taking his hand.
"I missed dinner because I was busy worrying about you," Cole says bluntly. "Apparently there's a good cafe on this island. You're treating me to food."
It's my turn to raise my eyebrow.
"That's a very unceremonious way to ask me out on a date."
Cole turns around to deliver his infamous heart-stopping grin that I swear should be made illegal just from the things it does to me.
"Think of it as payment for me rescuing you then," he says, tugging at my arm and pulling me flush against him.
"And besides," he whispers, letting his lips lightly brush over my ear, "don't you want to run away for a little bit longer?"
:: 💫 ::
Welcome to chapter 39, aka Getting Deep with Cole™️. I feel like this chapter alternates between trying to be deep, and people ruining the mood by changing the subject. I hope this super long chapter also makes up for the fact that I didn't update earlier like I promised.
Please forgive me.
Ples 🙏.
(I mean in my defence, I have taken much longer to update before. (Okay that's not really in my defence.))
On the bright side, in case any of you were wondering about my life... *crickets chirp in distance* ...it is going well. The past week has been kind of eventful for me, and this December feels like it's going to be even more jam-packed, but I intend to keep up the unintentional weekly Sunday updates because it's more ideal than doing homework and not being stressed out during school time, amirite?
♕ Carmen ♕