A Place Worth Living

by B D Grant

  “I can still talk,” I say. The calm feelings are pushed even harder on me from all directions.

  “Sorry,” Mick says, cautiously. He looks me over, his eyes rest on the paper in my hand. “I can take it from here,” he reassures the Tempero. “We’ll go back to our room and lay low.”

  Mick leads me down the hall without a word. He keeps some distance between us walking ahead of me not commenting on my slow speed. His kindness is proven as I am given the freedom to feel my loss and all the pain that goes with it instead of the Tempero-induced emotions that were just shoved down my throat. Occasionally he looks back checking on me.

  I’m slowly circling a vast vortex of depression when my emotions involuntarily stutter. I feel the dark emotions wane slightly as Mick turns on his ability. He looks back at me sharply while closing the space between us. Down the hall, coming our way, are Abby, Glensy, and Mase.

  “Is my mom still here?” Mase asks us. Mick nods. I don’t acknowledge him causing him to pop off, “Screw you too.”

  I have a split second, maybe less, of being aware that I can stop the anger forming before it’s unleashed, but I encourage it. Whatever Mick’s doing to try to keep me calm is pushed behind the wall I instinctively construct leaving his ability irrelevant.

  I throw Mase against a hall before he knows what is happening. Abby screams at me to stop. I don’t. I block out her pleas and Mick’s silent attempts to soothe my rage. My forearm is crushing Mase’s neck. His eyes bulge as his head from the neck up turns red. Mick tries feebly to push me off Mase. Strong arms loop around mine and pull. With Mick pushing as Glensy pulls, Mase is able to get enough space from my forearm to breathe.

  “Not here, man,” Glensy growls in my ear.

  I loosen my remaining grasp on Mase. Mick manages to get between us as Glensy continues to pull me back. Hurried footsteps come from down the hall.

  “What did you do?” Lia fumes.

  I think she’s talking to me but I’m glaring at Mase. He has a surprised look on his face that I consider worth any punishment I may get for this. He’s looking at Lia.

  “I didn’t do anything, Mom. He just went berserk.”

  I turn to see if Lia really was talking to him instead of me. She looks Mase over for injuries then points to the office door. “Get in the office. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  Mase and Abby go to the office. Lia looks at Mick then the Tempero that are at her heels. “Is he better now?”

  “He’s okay. It won’t happen again,” Mick assures her. Glensy releases me following Mase and Abby into the room.

  She turns to me next. “It’s understandable wanting to let out some steam but I would strongly recommend only doing it on the field from this point forward.”

  I nod minutely. Satisfied she heads back to Mr. Grad’s office. The Tempero pass Mr. Grad’s office, one turns off down another hall, and the other goes to an office farther down.

  Mick and I don’t speak the remainder of the walk to our room.

  I stare at the ceiling while laying on my bed trying not to think about anything related to Gran. Mick still hasn’t spoken to me. I can hear him drawing at his desk. I focus on the sound of the pencil moving across the paper but it turns into me thinking about the photo album that is in my bag from home that is stuffed under my bed. I try to sleep but when I close my eyes all I see is Gran’s loving face. I should’ve never left her. At the end of the day Boston walks in. I give up trying to sleep.

  “You don’t have to go to class tomorrow. Good job on your fight with Mase,” he beams as he plops on the end of my bed. I sit up, giving him more space. How does he always know about everything around here?

  “Alright,” I tell him.

  He says nothing about Gran. If word has gotten around to him about Mase and I fighting then the cause was also discussed.

  “Don’t get too excited. You still have to show up at the field like any other day,” he says quickly.

  “What in the world for?” I don’t feel like doing anything. All I want to do is stay in my room.

  Boston’s watching Mick intently saying, “Maybe they think there isn’t a better time to see what you’re made of than after discovering you have nothing left to lose.”

  I stare at Boston, too busy dwelling on my sad state to realize I’m looking at Boston. He notices my eyes on him. He shifts uncomfortably at the end of my bed ultimately deciding to get up. He moves to Mick’s bed where he stretches out comfortably.

  “Sorry, by the way,” he says, gently, proving me right that he knew everything. I don’t respond, only nod.

  Mick whips around in his chair, suddenly aware of Boston’s presence. “Do you think they know?”

  “Nah,” Boston says, coolly. “I think they just want to see how this effects his ability.”

  “What should we do?” Mick asks, nervously.

  I look at Mick, “What do you mean we? I’m the one with a secret I can barely keep.”

  “It’ll be fine. You haven’t ripped any heads off yet, so I don’t think you will tomorrow,” Boston tells me.

  “How can you be sure?” Mick asks, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “You’ll see,” Boston says, getting up. He rubs his stomach. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Anyone want to join?”

  Mick hops up and they head for the door. Mick stops short of walking out when he notices I haven’t moved.

  “You’re not coming?”

  I look at him as if to say, “Did you really just ask that?”

  Mick steps away from the door hesitantly. “You want me to stay?”

  “I’m good.” I lie back down on my bed facing the wall. I hear Mick hesitate a minute longer before he ultimately leaves.

  I report for football the next afternoon. The talking and cutting up around me in the locker room is quieter than normal. A few guys ask me how I’m doing, but for the most part I’m avoided. As Boston said, it’s like any other day, big against little.

  On the edge of the field, Glensy walks up to me with Mase a good distance in his wake for a change. “We cool, man?” He asks.

  I nod, avoiding eye contact so he knows I don’t want to chat. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

  He suddenly lunges. I throw my arms out to block him, but he already has ahold of me. I realize he isn’t fighting me but rather giving me a hug, a very awkward hug.

  “Uh, thanks,” I say, with the little air his grasp is allowing to enter my lungs. I can’t do anything since my arms are pinned between my chest and his. I hope none of the guys are watching this.

  “Get off of him,” Mase says to his back.

  Glensy releases me and pats my shoulders hard. “I’ve been there, man,” he says, solemnly then heads onto the field.

  Mase makes for the field but pauses. “I didn’t know,” he says, before jogging after Glensy.

  That is the closest I’ll ever get to an apology from that jerk. The coaches call one of the players from the field and bench him.

  “You’re up!” Mr. Grad yells to me.

  I should have known they would start me today of all days. Mase calls the play and we break. As the opposing team gets in place, I realize it’s a stage two Dyna facing me. Having a Dyna facing me makes me feel better about what I’m about to do.

  The Tempero on the sidelines do their thing. I smash into the opposing players. I do all but destroy everyone in my path. After the third play, it’s obvious some of the underclassmen are already hurting. It starts to sprinkle. When the sprinkles turn into rain, the coaches call the game early. The audience consisting of students and teachers watching from the bleachers disperse.

  “Nice job,” Glensy praises as he runs past me to get out of the rain.

  Lia and some Dyna instructors are among the onlookers that remain. I hope they got the show they were hoping for. Lia and the instructor she’s talking with look over at me. Lia stares at me expressionless as the other instructor gives me an approving smile.

&nb
sp; The next day is exceptionally bleak. Lia sends a stage two Tempero instructor to discuss Gran’s final wishes. He’s an old man with a deep, warm voice. He doesn’t use his ability but simply listening to him speak is soothing. She probably sent him for that very reason.

  He tells me there won’t be a funeral back home because her will states she wanted to be cremated. He tells me they will hold a memorial service in the study center for me. He does ask if I have any family I would want to invite.

  “She was it.”

  “I’m sorry, son. We’ll have the service none-the-less.”

  The apologies keep coming, not just from people I know, but random faces in crowds that I pass. How do they not know that all they’re doing is making it worse? Just when I’m distracted, someone says something that brings all the emptiness back to the surface.

  To help being back in class and walking around campus I borrow one of Mick’s books and get in the habit of acting like I’m reading everywhere I go. I do such a good job ignoring my surroundings that I don’t hear Anne trying to get my attention during class.

  “Hey,” she repeats, throwing a balled up piece of paper to get my attention. It thumps me in the ribs.

  It also gets our teacher’s attention. “Who threw that?” she hisses as she makes her way to the board.

  No one answers causing her to huff in exaggerated frustration before starting her lecture on classroom etiquette. I glance over at Anne. She’s got her head down in embarrassment. She stares down at her shirt that has a large wet spot on it. I instantly feel bad. She’s not good with negative attention and right now the students around her are giving her mean looks for causing the teacher to get on her soapbox. The bell rings, ending class.

  Before I can get up, Anne is at my desk. “How are you doing?” she asks.

  “Look, let’s not talk about my grandmother. I don’t need to hear another sympathetic apology or I might start breaking things.”

  “Okay,” she says quietly.

  I get up and grab my backpack when suddenly I’m being squeezed. I look down to find Anne giving me a hug. I pat her back in return. The other students are staring and it looks as if the teacher is about to get on to us so I push her off gently.

  I look her in the eye. “What are you doing?” Knowing full well she’s comforting me the best way she can since I’ve taken away the option to talk about it.

  She tucks her tussled hair behind her ears. “I know how you’re feeling right now and I want you to know you’re not alone. I’m here.”

  She’s so sincere when she says it that I’m taken aback. I look down at her as she looks up at me waiting for a response. The teacher slams a book on her desk. We both look over at her.

  “This isn’t social hour. Get to class,” she hisses.

  Without another word, we depart. When we get in the hall I ask, “Who did that to your shirt?” pointing at it.

  Her hand goes over the nearly evaporated wet spot. She holds her shirt out getting a better look at it. “The sink in the bathroom went crazy on me.”

  She’s not selling me on it. “A sink did that, by itself?”

  She shrugs my question off. We get to her next class and she walks in. I watch her go. The girl that had once welcomed Anne to join her has a cruel twinkle in her eye when Anne enters the room. Anne ignores her, sitting at the front of the class with her back to the girl.

  “She’s learned her lesson,” she tells a boy and girl who seem to know what she’s talking about. Anne starts to pear over her shoulder sheepishly at the group sitting around the girl but seems to think better of it and turns back to the front of the class.

  When I first met Anne, she was so excited about the idea of this place. Now she’s become a tiny ball of insecurity, sitting in that desk. She wraps her arms around herself, covering the outline of the wet spot on her shirt.

  This isn’t going to happen on my watch. I strut into the room like I have every right to be there. “Hey!” I say sharply to the group of bullies who have already noticed my grand entrance. The other students, including Anne, watch me as I approach the main girl. “Do you know her name?” I ask the girl, pointing at Anne. Anne looks horrified.

  “Ye.. Yeah, that’s Anne Buckley,” she says with an air of indifference.

  “You know she’s a friend of mine, right?”

  The girl looks to her friends but none of them come to her aide. She looks back at me crossing her arms. “So? I don’t care,” she says like she really means it.

  I slowly shake my head ‘no’ with a tight smile drawn on my face. One of her friends is seated in the desk between her and I, blocking me from reaching her. I lean down, placing my hands on either side of the desk. The girl sitting in it is terrified. I lean toward her. “Did you know Anne and I were friends?”

  She steals a glance over her shoulder before responding, “Uh huh.”

  “Smart girl.” I push the desk, with her still in it, out of my way with ease. I take two steps closer to the girl I initially had my eye on. She no longer looks sure of herself as I approach.

  “You’re a female,” I inform her, as if she didn’t know. “You might think that matters to me. You may be under the impression that you being a chick would stop me from turning your delicate face into a bloody mess. If that’s the case you would be dead wrong.”

  She turns white from the blood draining from her face. I inch closer. “And they can bring every Tempero, or anybody else for that matter, to try to stop me but it won’t slow me down from turning you into a Quasimodo if you or anyone else does ANYTHING to upset Anne. Kapeesh?”

  She’s speechless, just like I intended.

  "You can't talk to her like that,” a guy in her group says, sitting up taller in his seat.

  “Oh, yeah?” I give him the same look I gave the girls. He breaks eye contact fast hunching back over.

  “That goes for all of you.” I look over the rest of the girl’s group. No one speaks a word. I slide the desk, with the girl in it, back in line. Their teacher walks in, looking around, noticing the abnormally quiet atmosphere.

  “Good talk,” I say, before walking out the room, nodding at the teacher as I pass. Anne isn’t alone here either.

  11

  K. Stage 3

  The day after I stand up for Anne I’m called to Lia’s office. Why couldn’t she call on me like this when I was wanting to talk to her? At least she can’t give me any more bad news. This could be about yesterday. One of the stage twos I went off on yesterday could have told on me but I doubt Lia would be the one that would talk to me about that kind of stuff. Those brats will regret it if they did.

  I knock on Mr. Grad’s office door where Lia’s waiting for me imagining how much the stage twos would freak if they saw me coming for them.

  “Come in,” She says pleasantly.

  I walk in and am instantly relieved to see that there aren’t any Tempero with her. That’s got to be a good sign. I walk to a chair as Lia’s writing feverishly at the desk.

  “No, don’t sit,” she tells me, “This won’t take long.” I stop. She grabs a paper from her desk and hands it to me. I look it over. It’s a class schedule. “Congratulations, Kelly. You are now a full time stage three.”

  All of the classes listed on the schedule are in the stage three building.

  “Great, but I’m barely passing some of my stage two classes. Why am I moving up?”

  She abruptly stops writing. She leans back in her chair gazing at me clearly not expecting my reaction. “Are you wanting to stay in classes with younger students?”

  “No, I’m happy to be with people my age but I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Oh Kelly, you’re always surprising me,” she admits. “I can assure you I’ll make this transition as smooth as possible for you.” She stands and walks around the desk motioning for me to join her. She holds my shoulders as we walk to the door. “I spoke with your teachers and they’ve agreed that you’re ready.”

  She opens her door th
en directs me through it. “Any anxiety you’re having you should direct into football. You’ll be fine.” She closes the door. I’m left in the hall holding my new class schedule.

  I finish the morning and find Mick in our room, sitting at his desk flipping through his notebook of doodles. “Has anyone ever failed out of The Academy?”

  He shakes his head as he stares intently at the page he’s stopped at in his notebook. “Not that I know of.” With pencil in hand, he goes to work.

  I set my stuff on my desk, then face Mick’s back. I try to see what he’s working on. It’s a rather intricate drawing of the back of someone’s head.

  “Is that your new love interest?” I ask knowing it isn’t. The drawing is clearly depicting a dude’s head.

  Mick’s hand stops mid stroke. He stares with big eyes at the drawing. “This is a guy,” he replies, unable to see me grinning behind him.

  “I may be from a small town, but you’ll find I’m very open-minded.”

  “I like chicks,” he says, with an edge of aggravation.

  “Then why are you drawing him?” I ask inquisitively.

  “I don’t know, because he’s new. He was in my last class and sat right in front of me. I was having to look around his big head the whole time.”

  “How am I the last to know everything and Boston’s one of my closest friends? Boston must like leaving me in the dark.” It is halfway through the day and I’ve seen him multiple times. It’s not like getting a new student is a regular thing from what Boston’s told me and he didn’t say anything about it to me.

  “I’m guessing because he’s that new,” Mick tells me. “It was a teacher, not a student, showing him around. He’s a weird cat too.”

  “How so?”

  Everything about this Seraphim school is weird to me.

  “For one, he’s only a Sensaa. We have maybe ten of them in the whole school. For two, he doesn’t talk. He said all of three words the entire class.”

  “I was quiet at first. Most people are when they’re in a new place.”