"PICK UP THE STICK."
"No."
"Stop being difficult and pick up the stick."
"I'm not being difficult, I just don't want it."
"Ridley, please act like the seventeen year old that you are, and pick up the stick."
That is the argument Luke and I are stuck in, as he tries to - unsuccessfully, might I add - teach me Marshall Arts. Why is he attempting to achieve the impossible? Let's start at the beginning.
After he told me that we were 'sired', whatever that is, I stared at him, dumbfounded, trying to configure what he meant. And Luke - that irritating, pain-in-my-back-side Australian - started to laugh. And I fumed. Which only made him laugh harder. I then spat venomous words at him that should not ever be repeated for the sake of human ears, to which he stopped laughing, and pointed out that I had anger issues. Which, I again flipped at, further proving his point. At that moment I wanted to slap that smug smile right off his face. Wanted to.
His solution really makes me question his sanity. Normal people would suggest a councilor, or medication, but not Luke. Oh no, he told me that the best way to release my anger is by training. Never being one for physical violence, I rolled my eyes and tried to persuade him that I was perfectly fine, and he was just an irritant. But he insisted with those pretty, oceanic eyes.
So now, three days later, I'm stood in a sports bra and skin-tight trousers, underneath the Hemmings' household in their basement/gym/training zone. Apparently, the sticks are a part of the activity he decided we would do, but I'm stubborn and refuse to pick up the stick that sits on the floor.
"You're older than me, and as for that, are you going to tell me what 'sired' means?" I challenge, folding my arms defiantly.
"And I picked up my stick, so you should too," he retorts, a speculating look crossing those gorgeous features. "Only if you pick up the stick."
I stare at him blankly, and he stares right back at. Of course, he's the victorious one because I couldn't look into those eyes for two seconds without bursting into flames. So, with a snarl that is directed towards the blond, I crouch down and clutch the God-damn stick, straightening myself up into a slouched stance.
Luke just smirks. "Did you just growl at me?" I look straight at his forehead, not daring to look into those eyes. My gaze burns a hole there - well, in my imagination they do. Luke takes slow, threatening steps towards me, and though I know I should've gone into some position, or do something, I don't. I just stand there. Motionless. The Australian moves his lips to my ear when he is close enough, and my heart is hammering against my chest as the electricity that was primarily muted down, once again makes an appearance. You'd think I'd be used to it. I'm not. "Easy, tiger," he whispers tauntingly, and I begin to feel light headed as I, once again, forget how to breathe.
"Tigers don't growl, genius. They purr. Dogs growl," I tell him matter-of-factly, stepping away from the tall body that is Luke so that I can function properly.
"Would you rather I called you a dog, or a tiger?" I say nothing. It's best for me not to retaliate. "Exactly."
"Can we just get this over with?" I ask impatiently, getting annoyed because he is winning. In the end, he would always win.
The boy nods, though he doesn't move away like I did. Instead, he circles me, taking in my frame greedily. "There are five things to remember when in combat," he starts, swaying the black, plastic pole from side-to-side. "One, always anticipate your attack," he pauses for a second, tapping my stick with his own so that it flips in the air. I catch it clumsily. "Two, study your opponent - any movement in their muscles could be a sign of them about to attack." My eyes scan him, something which I don't at all mind. "Three, think like your enemy. Learn how they work, move - everything." Yeah, I did that the first day I saw you, buddy. "Four," his lips are at my ear again, where he breathes the words "don't get distracted." Don't get distracted. Got it. When you stop being so breath-taking. "And five - the simplest one - have fun."
Seeing an advantage, I swat his leg with the stick when he walks in front of me. I don't hit him hard, but it's hard enough for a red mark to appear on his exposed calf. In response, when he crumbles to the ground, he uses his stick to wind behind my legs and pushes against the back of my knees, leaving me crippled and falling. I recover, whacking his stick as hard as I can, but he blocks it, those strong muscles pushing on his and therefore my stick so that I fall flat on the ground. He's now on top me, his bare chest heaving as he keeps me pinned to the ground.
"Score - 1-0," he announces, climbing off of me, and holding his hand out towards me.
Feeling rebellious, I snake my legs around his ankles so that I can twist them, resulting in his back colliding with the floor. Seeing an opportunity, I stand up quickly and press my foot and stick to his chest.
"Score- 1-1." I remove my foot and the stick, getting into a poised position. "'Think like your enemy'," I copy him, watching him get up slowly, my eyes now drawn to his shirtless form.
Luke taps my head lightly with his pole. "Concentrate," he tells me, his voice taking on the tone of a teacher.
I shake myself out of my dazed state, only barely blocking his attack. It goes like that for a while, and for an amateur, I think that I'm doing pretty well. I start to get into the fight, my body curling around his, his arms sneakily winding around my waist so that he can steal a quick kiss on my cheek. Okay, let me just put across the fact that I have no idea how I felt about Luke and this little love-hate relationship that we have. But I don't care. As long as he doesn't stop those kisses.
Damn it. I'm distracted. And Luke saunters towards me, and instinctively, I out-stretch my free arm in an attempt to keep him away from me.
What happens next, I have no idea.
I feel this buzzing sensation flow through my arm. And it isn't because of Luke. It escapes through my finger-tips, and pulsates in waves towards the blond, pushing him backwards until he collides with the wall. I drop my arm, which suddenly feels heavy, and start to hyperventilate.
What the hell just happened? Some unseen force just forced Luke away, that is definitely not normal. I'm not normal. I can't understand it. Is something wrong with me? Have I completely lost it?
I'm so into panic-mode that I don't realize the boy is now inches away from me, an ecstatic smile on his lips. What? Why is he smiling? The freakiest of freaky things just happened!
"Why the hell are you smiling?" I screech, tugging at my hair in panic. I am freaking out. Totally freaking out. Luke remains happy, contained.
"Don't you know what you just did? Telekinesis - it's one of your powers! Ridley, that's amazing!"
"It is?" He nods, laughing giddily like a child who has found a new toy. Luke then cups my face in his hands roughly, and lifts me upwards until my lips are connected with his.
He kisses with such sudden need that I gasp, though after a few seconds I begin to kiss him back, my dark eyes fluttering shut as the sparks intensify. I like kissing Luke. It reminds me of every reason why I was glad I'm alive. If I gave in sooner, I would never have known that he exists and that this life existed. It's nice, comforting.
Then an Australian accent interrupts the moment.
"Well, this is cozy." It isn't Michael or Liz, but a voice that is so unexpected that I jump backwards. It was Ashton.
"Ash?" I question, looking at him, only to see that he isn't alone. "Cal? What are you doing here?"
I make my way towards them, followed by Luke, who always made a point to be right by my side. And I swear, he deliberately made our finger-tips touch as we walk. When we reach Calum and Ashton, I'm breathless.
"Luke here told us that he was keeping you here for safe-measure," says Calum, giving Luke a warning glare. Always the protective brother. And as for being held hostage, that's Luke's idea. Apparently, I'm safer in his house than I am in my own, because apparently there are people hiding, watching me like hawks. And none of them know where Luke lives. "We just came to drop off your things."
I stare at him, not exactly sure why he would allow his sister to be held captive. And then it clicks. He's one of them. He's a Keeper. And he must have known Luke and Michael before they enrolled, otherwise he would never have agreed to go bowling last Saturday. And Ashton...he must be one of them, too, which explains his overwhelming determination to be friends with the new kids. New kids...more like frauds. I know I shouldn't be angry, that I should let them explain, because there has to be an explanation, right? But instead, I am angry. I'm very angry.
"Just go away," I snap, stalking past them both and stomping up the stairs that connects the house to the basement.
I push through countless doors, until I find a small study where I can think.
It feels like everything I have been told by anyone was just a lie. That Ashton is only my best friend because of the Race, and because he knows that no matter what, I would be on his side for anything. Of course I would, he's my best friend, but why couldn't he tell me? I feel betrayal more than anything. It's the same with Calum. The person who is the closest to a brother as I would ever get, is a Keeper. Was he keeping tabs on me all of these years? Does he even see me as his sister?
I start cry, my knees are pulled up to my chest, and I cry for what feels like hours, though it has only been a few minutes. I want to confide in someone, but then I remember that I have nobody to trust. Everybody is a liar. I have no one.
Right then I feel completely isolated to the world around me. While everybody else on this damned Earth would be out with their friends, working for a living, and doing something productive, I am alone. More alone than I ever was before. I suppose I could go home, go to my Foster parents, but they are probably Keepers, too. Which is the reason why they have not ordered the authorities onto Luke and his family. So I'm surrounded by strange supernaturals who all hold onto the hope that this prophecy gives them. The prophecy that I am a part of. At times like this, I really wish that I had human friends who I could have human conversations with. But I have none. Fantastic.
I'm not sure how much time had passed - it could've been twenty minutes, it could've been an hour - but I am suddenly aware of company, company which I don't mind. As I said before, I like Michael. I suppose I can call him a friend...if not, an acquaintance. He is so different to Luke, it's refreshing.
"Why are crying?" he asks, crouching down in front of me.
I wipe the tears away. "Because my life is so unbelievably messed up," I tell him, laughing with no humor at all.
"I wouldn't call it messed up, just different." I have to admit, it made me feel better. "I'm guessing you found out about Calum and Ashton." I nod, avoiding his gaze. "They were doing it for your own benefit, you know? They wanted you to have a normal, human life before you got dragged into the Race."
"I don't want any part in this."
"And you think we do?" he asks, rhetorically, I assume. "Ridley, it's not a choice. Now that you are breaking out with your powers, it'll be harder for us to hide you from them." He seems so serious...it makes me feel even worse than I already do. "You're in this whether you like it or not."
"Well let's just say that I don't like it, what happens then?"
This he smiles at. "You make yourself like it. You've got all of these powers that are yet to be discovered and practiced. Why not have fun while you do it?"
Michael is right. Of course he's right. If I really do have so many amazing gifts, why am I sitting around moping about it? I should be out experiencing them.
"You're right."
"You always used to say that," he says, and at my questioning look, he sighs in what seemed annoyance. "He didn't tell you, did he?" With a shake of my head, Michael groans. "We told him to tell you everything. Okay, so you know how you're soon to be eighteen? If you and Luke are not bonded on that day, time will tunnel backwards and you will once again be reborn. Each time we got close to your birthday, the others in the Race would find you and stop the bonding. And I don't know what it was, but we had this...connection. Not like yours and Luke's, more like a mutual, sibling connection. This time, we've kept you hidden. Kept this world a secret, only for you to be found again."
Wait...we were like siblings? Well, that did explain a lot. But what did he mean by 'bonded'? s it some strange voodoo ritual that ties us together? I have to admit, it doesn't sound half bad.
"Bonded, meaning...?" I question finally.
Michael begins to look uncomfortable. But I stand my ground and remain demanding. "You have to share each other's blood, Ridley."
Okay. Whoa, the thought of blood and sharing makes me feel nauseous. And then I get it. The sparks make sense, they are a sign. Probably a symbol that says we are meant to be bonded. Everything is so clear now, it makes me smile a little. If I have to be bonded to someone, I'm glad it's Luke.
Then I realize something else. I am eighteen in three months, and if Luke keeps up this 'you're safe wherever I am' act, then that means that I'll be residing in the Hemmings' home until then.
It's time to set some ground rules.
~*~
Ughhh I'm lame. I know. And I did tryyyy and write a few sentences or so everyday, but learned that doing that gets you nowhere.
Anywayy I hope you liked this chapter, it was a bit miffy tbh but after watching the tomorrow people I was like yAS
Tell me what you think maybe? :-)
Ilyyy
~ Shan xxx