The Magenta (The Legendary Keepers Book 1)

by Cassidy Bennett

  The Magenta

  Cassidy Bennett

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Cassidy Bennett

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the many incredible people who made this book possible: my beta readers, my friends who let me bounce ideas off them, and those who supported me.

  First, my sister Rose: thanks for having me include a character based off you in The Magenta. Thank you for helping me from the beginning of my writing project. Dad, thank you for helping me finally get my book published. Mom, thank you for supporting me, even if I did ramble about randomness from my book a lot. It means a ton. Brittany F., thank you for encouraging me to keep writing even when my writing wasn’t very good.

  Thanks to my second cousin and one of my best friends, Jenna H. You were patient and listened to me ramble off ideas. You were one of my beta readers and the inspiration for one of my characters. Thanks to Katie B. and Morgan R.; both of you let me base characters off you and have joined Jenna in supporting me for a very long time. As for Itzel A., your enthusiasm and excitement helped motivate me to continue writing. Maddie L., you let me base a character off you as well, for which I am grateful.

  Rylan P., thank you for being one of my most dedicated beta readers and for keeping me focused on writing, even when I started to get lazy on it. J.D. R., thanks for helping me balance out one of my characters by using some inspiration from you. I’m pretty sure you saved the character from becoming a complete idiot. Thank you, Olivia V., for beta reading and volunteering to help me when I needed it. Chloe H., thank you for beta reading and letting me bounce ideas off you.

  Thank you to all the people who I haven’t mentioned above that helped me get to where I am now. That includes you, dear reader. Thank you!

  Chapter 1

  The Darkness has grown more powerful each day for the last five years.

  Every time I tremble, it grows stronger. Every time I whimper, it thickens. Every time fear takes over me, it gets inside my head. It threatens to consume me entirely and leave nothing of the existence of Valida Smith.

  Even just thinking about it sends cold shivers down my spine. Right there, in the middle of the cafeteria at Oakwood High, I shuddered at the thought of the Darkness.

  “Are you okay, Valida?” my best friend, Abigail White, inquired. She wore rectangular glasses that fit her face well, and her chocolate brown hair was styled in a single French braid. Next to her half-eaten lunch was a novel about one-and-a-half inches thick.

  I nodded, trying to look as convincing as possible. “Yeah. Just cold, I guess. A bit tired, too.”

  “Oh, the pain of school,” she said poetically, “and the beauty of summer, long since passed from our view.”

  I smiled. “Mrs. Reynolds would be proud of that one.”

  Abigail beamed. Mrs. Reynolds, our English teacher, was always keeping an eye on us, but not because we were troublemakers. She had deemed us “filled with potential” from the beginning of the year. She was constantly asking to see our work—my stories and Abigail’s poems—and encouraging us to write more.

  After finishing my lunch and waiting for Abigail to finish hers, I braided my thin blonde hair—which normally reached the middle of my back—into a basic side braid, just like I normally did. But this time, as I made my way to the giant garbage can to throw my lunch tray away, I felt it.

  The Darkness.

  Black dots clouded my vision, but I wasn’t close enough to the cafeteria tables to sit down and hope for the best. The floor swayed beneath my feet. My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the crumb-covered floor of the cafeteria.

  The last thing I heard before I blacked out was someone screaming my name.

  ◆◆◆

  Whispers surrounded me, shrouded in the Darkness.

  You will never amount to anything. You are just one of the 7 billion. It doesn’t matter what you do; you will always be a nobody.

  You are weak, unable to control your own thoughts and fears.

  The worst one of all could be heard the clearest. You must face the truth, Valida. You are simply not good enough. Even those you call your friends can barely tolerate you.

  I trembled, my legs shaking, as my fears were amplified. The Darkness was no amateur; it had been doing this to me for five years. Every night as I went to bed, it was there. I had no dreams when I slept. Every time I blacked out—although those times were rare—it was there. There was no real escape. It knew how to get under my skin.

  Even worse, it amplified the amount of fear I felt. Had someone like Aleka Harris, a girl who used to bully me at school, told me these things, I would have brushed them off as meaningless words spoken out of jealousy and anger. But here, in the Darkness, those words hit hard.

  I couldn’t help thinking, Is the Darkness right? Am I weak—do other people consider me weak—because I can’t handle heights or thrilling rides? Do my friends really just tolerate me? Am I too weird, too different, and too weak to be good enough?

  I knew it wasn’t rational, but fears often aren’t.

  “Go away!” I ordered the Darkness. “Leave me alone!”

  That was the moment the strangest thing happened.

  You are a freak, an oddity. You should not exist. If your friends knew—

  “Uh, Darkness,” I pointed out, “that isn’t one of my fears.”

  For the first time in five years, the Darkness fell silent.

  “Of course not,” a voice said from behind me, “because it’s one of mine.”

  Before I could react, someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth with their hand. I thrashed, finally freeing my arms enough to elbow my captor. My hands, now free due to my captor recoiling, formed fists and flew. I felt them come in contact with human flesh and winced as my captor howled in pain.

  “OUCH!” he yelped. “Oh, that was my nose. YOU GOT MY NOSE! What was that for?”

  I couldn’t see him in the Darkness, so I just stood there with my hands on my hips and shouted, “YOU TRIED TO KIDNAP ME!”

  He scoffed. “Kidnap you? That’s ridiculous!”

  “Who are you, anyway?” I questioned. “Where did you come from? I haven’t seen anyone here in five years, so why is today any different?”

  “You can’t see me, though,” the boy pointed out. “You still haven’t seen anyone here.”

  “How do you know if I can’t see you?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  He laughed and tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re not even facing me. I’m behind you. Please don’t pun—”

  Too late. I whipped around, uncrossing my arms, and punched him again. He yelped again.

  “OUCH! What in the Dimensions, Valida?” He moaned. “That was my arm! The injured one!”

  “How do you know my name?” I asked, holding my fists at ready. “Who are you?”

  “Okay, okay!” he yielded. “I’ll tell you! Just lower your weapons! Sea pearls and barnacles, you’re stronger than I remember.”

  I lowered my fists, but didn’t relax. I didn’t trust him yet. “Talk,” I ordered.

  He paused for a moment before speaking. “Listen, as much as I would l
ike to not get punched and answer your questions, we don’t have much time. If Regina’s book is correct—and it hasn’t failed us yet—you could wake up from this any moment now. We definitely don’t have enough time—”

  “You know, if you weren’t monologuing, you could’ve answered, like, five of my questions right now,” I pointed out.

  He sighed. “Okay, the point is, we need a code, in case we find each other again.”

  Deciding to humor him, I asked, “Like what?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Code Magenta.”

  I raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh. “Why magenta, of all colors?”

  “Would you rather it be Code Baked Potato?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Code Baked Potato it is, then.”

  “But why?” I questioned.

  “I like potatoes, so why not? They’re, like, the best thing in the Dimensions! That and I am so dead if the others find out…”

  “So, you’re obsessed with potatoes?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yep! They're amazing!”

  I crossed my arms. “Okay, that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard. Can you at least tell me your name before I wake up, Potato Brain? We have enough time for that!”

  “All in due time, Miss Magenta.”

  Chapter 2

  My eyelids fluttered open. I moaned as I sat up on my hospital bed. My entire body felt stiff and sore. A doctor stood by the heart monitor, which beeped at regular intervals. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a small scar on his chin.

  He didn’t even look up from his clipboard when he said, “That was quite the nap, Valida.”

  My mom crushed me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Can I go back to school now?”

  The doctor chuckled. “It’s Saturday. You’ve been out for about seventeen hours.”

  “Then can I go home?”

  He shook his head. “We have to do some tests, but you can leave on Monday if nothing else happens while you’re here.”

  My mom froze, her face pale. “Doctor Robbins, there won’t be any blood tests, right?”

  “She just randomly collapsed at school! Of course there will be—” The rest of Doctor Robbins’ sentence remained unsaid as he paled, eyes wide. “Oh no. You don’t mean—”

  “Veronica forgot to tell you, didn’t she?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Why can’t I have blood tests done?”

  “You never told her?” Doctor Robbins half-whispered. “Cynthia—”

  Dad came into the room, a big smile on his face, carrying some takeout from a nearby hamburger place. “Valida!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “You’re awake!”

  “Dad, why doesn’t Mom want me to have blood tests done?” I asked.

  Dad’s smile faded. “Blood tests?” He looked at Doctor Robbins for an explanation.

  “Veronica never told me,” Doctor Robbins explained. “The blood tests are required! What are we going to do?”

  “What if we just said that the cause was exhaustion?” Mom suggested. “You know, from being worked too hard or something.”

  He shook his head. “The tests would still be necessary, and they would probably consider you unfit parents.”

  “What if you took someone else’s blood?” Dad asked hopefully.

  Doctor Robbins shook his head. “Blood has DNA in it. Our lab workers are very thorough; they would know that it wasn’t hers. There’s no way out of it.”

  Mom sighed, yielding. “We’ll have to risk it. Just try to keep this quiet. Trusted associates only.”

  Doctor Robbins took a clear syringe and stuck it into my arm. When I saw my blood in it, I screamed and fainted.

  My blood was a bright magenta.

  ◆◆◆

  I was still screaming when I arrived back at the Darkness.

  “WHY IS MY BLOOD MAGENTA?” I screamed.

  You will never amount to anything, the Darkness hissed.

  “You’re no help!” I informed it with a huff.

  It fell silent.

  “Code Baked Potato!” I said hopefully.

  No answer. I sat on the ground and strained my ears to hear an answer, a footstep, even a breath. Even if I didn’t get answers, I needed someone to tell about this. Given the fact that Potato Brain had called me “Miss Magenta”, I felt it safe to assume that he would probably know something about this.

  “Come on, Potato Brain,” I pleaded, not even sure if he was here. “I need you.”

  “Awww,” a familiar voice said. “I feel so appreciated.”

  I sprang to my feet. “Potato Brain?”

  “At your service, Miss Magenta.”

  “Why didn’t you answer earlier?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Why didn’t you come the first time? Why wait?”

  “Um, yeah, about that…” He laughed nervously. “I’m not exactly supposed to have contact with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m definitely not supposed to answer that.”

  “Potato Brain!” I said, exasperated. “Help me out here! My blood is magenta-colored! That’s not normal!”

  He laughed. “You’re only now realizing that? Haven’t you ever gotten a paper cut, or scraped a knee, or—”

  “Potato Brain!”

  “Fine!” he said. “But you can’t tell anyone, got it?”

  “Got it,” I agreed.

  “You’re the Magenta,” he stated. “Someday, that will explain everything.”

  “When?” I asked, growing frustrated. “Someday, yes, but when?”

  “Believe me, Miss Magenta, you’ll know when,” he replied cryptically.

  “Well, that’s helpful,” I informed him sarcastically. “What is this ‘Magenta’ thing, anyway?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?” I was growing frustrated. “Why the riddles? Why the secrecy?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, honestly,” he replied. “The others think I’m an idiot. They—”

  “Others?” I interrupted. “Is that Regina girl you mentioned one of the others? Who are they? What are you all playing at?”

  “Oh sea pearls, Selene is going to kill me,” he muttered. Then, at normal volume, he said, “Look, I’ve already said too much.”

  “Does that mean you can answer all my questions to the best of your ability so I can make sense of some of my life?” I asked hopefully.

  “You’d think I was insane,” he said, dodging the question.

  “I’m talking to you in a place I thought only I could reach, my blood is magenta-colored, and my entire life makes no sense right now,” I summed up. “Try me.”

  “Someday, Miss Magenta,” he promised. “I’ll tell you someday.”

  Please! I wanted to beg. Just give me a direct answer, Potato Brain!

  But before I could press further, I was back in the hospital, laying on the bed. I sat up to check the time. The clock read 12:36 a.m.

  I sighed and flopped back onto my pillow. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 3

  During my checkup the next morning, Doctor Robbins refused to give me answers.

  “Why is my blood magenta-colored?” I asked him.

  He sighed. “There is no medical explanation for it. The one explanation I am aware of, however, isn’t one I should tell you. That is for your parents to explain.”

  I looked pointedly at my parents. My mom shook her head. “Not now.” I gave her my most pleading look, but she remained firm. “We will tell you someday, but not today.”

  Frustrated now, I lost it.

  “For crying out loud, just tell me!” I exploded. “First Potato Brain, now you guys? Would it really kill you to make sense?”

  “Potato Brain?” Dad asked.

  Oh yeah. They didn’t know about Potato Brain.

  I dismissed it with a wave of my hand. “Not the point. If there is something wrong with me, just t
ell me!”

  Dad looked like he was going to cave, and I felt a little glimmer of hope. But it was gone as quickly as it had arrived when Mom gave him a stern look that clearly said, Don’t you dare.

  I went through the rest of my checkup without bringing it up, but that didn’t mean I let the subject drop entirely.

  Early Monday morning, I left the hospital and went to school. I begged Mom and Dad for answers, but they remained impervious to my methods.

  “It’s for your own safety, Valida,” Dad told me as I got out of the car. “Just…forget about it for now. Please?” His eyes were pleading on the last bit.

  I nodded, but I knew my life would never be the same. Not after my recent discoveries.

  My parents drove away, leaving me to the mercy of the day. I watched them until they turned the corner. I had a sinking feeling in my gut, as if by driving around that corner, they were really gone.

  You’re being irrational, I told myself. Mom and Dad drove home. Get over it.

  “Valida!” Even with a backpack loaded with textbooks, Abigail could run fast. She tackled me in a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay!”

  When she finally released me, I said, “Me too.”

  You know, because I’m totally okay; especially with the whole magenta-colored blood thing, I thought sarcastically, following her to first hour.

  ◆◆◆

  Later, at lunch, Abigail and I sat at our usual table in the cafeteria, silently eating our lunches. After just a few minutes, she spoke.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Something is bothering you.”

  I shook my head and continued to poke at the school’s mystery meat. “I’m fine.”

  “You fainted last Friday and didn’t get out of the hospital until earlier today,” she reminded me. “You aren’t fine.”

  “It’s nothing,” I insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Would you feel better if you talked about it?” she inquired.

  I ignored her question. “The bell is going to ring any minute now. I’ll see you later.”