Until Beth

by Lisa Amowitz

  “But we all do anyway,” Lila added.

  “But Xavier—” I stopped and grimaced with pain. “Why is Xavier the only one who gets in trouble?”

  Lila shrugged. “Because he’s the only one stupid enough to get caught?”

  Dawn poked my leg again and I cried out.

  “Let’s get her inside,” Zuber said.

  He hefted me in his strong arms and in seconds I was swaddled in formless gray haze. Warmth and light returned with my next blink and I felt myself set gently onto my bed. Zuber padded across my room to open the door for Lila, Dawn, and a reed-thin younger kid with a mess of frizzy red hair. Lila dragged the kid toward us by a bony arm.

  “This is Kevin,” she said.

  “Hello,” Kevin said. In the dim of my room it took me a minute to notice that, under his shock of hair, the freckled lids were closed and sunken. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a broad Southern accent. “I’m from Texas, a long way from home. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not asleep. This is just how I am.”

  “Kevin was born without eyes,” Lila said cheerfully. “But he has one wicked-ass Talent.”

  Kevin smiled and bowed. “That’s right. I’m here to eat your screams.”

  I shuddered and groaned, hoping that I was asleep in my bed, dreaming. “My screams?”

  “Kevin can absorb sound,” Lila said helpfully.

  “Did we mention that before Dawn can heal your bones, she needs to melt them?” Zuber interjected.

  “And that’s most likely gonna hurt,” Kevin said, with a little too much relish. “So I expect you’ll be screaming some.”

  Dawn returned from my bathroom with a warm cloth and began to clean my ankle. Even her soft touch sent razor-sharp pain shooting up my leg.

  Sweat broke out across my forehead. I gritted my teeth and swallowed down a howl. I didn’t want to give Kevin an appetizer. “Do you get much work around here?”

  “Some,” Kevin said. “Job’s a job. I’m not good for much else. ’Cept drumming, that is. Thing is, sound is like sonar for me. The louder the screams, the more I can feel my surroundings. Kind of like a dolphin. So it ain’t half bad. Usually, I got no idea who does the screaming, so everyone is happy.”

  “Except the screamer.” I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes.

  “We’re ready now.” Dawn sat lightly on the side of my bed. Lila and Zuber each grabbed one of my hands and squeezed hard.

  “I’m sorry,” said Dawn. “But this will hurt. A lot.”

  Kevin smiled, his face tilted upward like a flower to the sun. I cringed.

  Dawn waved both hands over my leg, as if she was strumming an invisible harp. At first, my leg went numb and all I felt was the gentle heat pulsing deep inside my leg. The sensation was almost pleasant. But the heat intensified rapidly to a furnace of molten agony. I peered at my leg and nearly fainted. The bottom half of the leg lay limp against the sheet like a sock filled with Jell-O. Nausea surged inside me, and with the next wave of pain I unleashed a massive roar.

  I screamed and screamed, but the sound died as if I’d gone deaf. I glimpsed Kevin laughing like he was on the best high ever. I vowed to murder him in his sleep when I got my strength back.

  Sharp edges poked and ground inside the empty sack that was my lower leg. Lila and Zuber squeezed my hands tighter. It did nothing to stop the blinding pain that filled my entire body, only kept me from flailing around and punching them in the face.

  Woozy and exhausted from screaming, I felt my chest tingle. I glanced upward through slitted lids. Shadow pooled at the ceiling.

  “Stop!” I screamed. The sound of my voice was swallowed whole. Kevin’s arms were extended wide as if to embrace the glorious noise. “You don’t understand! You’ve got to stop!” I mouthed, my words silenced.

  The mass of darkness dropped lower, and with it came the icy chill and pinprick tingles creeping up my spine. My leg was a lumpy mess, half-melted, half-whole.

  I wanted to draw the cloud into me and be done with the pain. And everything else.

  “Go!” I shouted. “All of you get out of here! Now! Leave!”

  My silent shouts were ignored by everyone except Kevin, who basked in the vibrations like a kid dancing in a summer downpour.

  My dorm door burst open and Vincent stormed in.

  “What in hell is going on here?” he yelled, his shout snuffed out the moment it left his lips. Kevin’s smile grew wider.

  He stalked over to Kevin and pushed him into a chair. “Stop it. Right now.”

  Kevin folded his arms over his chest and frowned. My voice returned, but my screams had subsided to a series of whimpers.

  Vincent leapt onto the bed and cradled me in his warm arms. My whimpers became sobs.

  “Do you need someone to help you back to your room, Kevin?” Vincent asked, not unkindly.

  Kevin stood. “I can find my way back on my own, thank you very much.” He strode confidently across the room, opened the door, then slammed it behind him extra-hard, though it didn’t make a sound.

  “Guess he’ll have to find his next fix somewhere else,” Zuber said.

  Vincent held me tightly, but there was nothing romantic about it. Still, I felt my brittle rage soften. My leg still screamed as if it had been packed up with glass shards.

  “Finish with her. Now!” Vincent barked, his anger pulsing through my pores.

  The rest of Dawn’s treatment was so excruciating that Zuber needed to stick a cloth in my mouth to muffle my screams. Vincent hung on for dear life. Finally, as gray morning light spilled through the window, Dawn finished her work.

  My leg was still bruised, but whole. It was incredibly sore, but before Dawn collapsed from exhaustion on my desk chair, she told me I should be able to walk on it with only a slight limp, which would be gone in a day.

  I was too tired to properly thank her, and she was too tired to care. Zuber gathered her in his arms and vanished between blinks. Lila sleepwalked out of my room.

  There were only a few hours until breakfast, and Vincent had fallen asleep, one arm flung across my chest. Breathing softly against me, his mouth partly open, he looked like one of those exquisite angels in a nineteenth-century painting. All he was missing were the halo and wings.

  Vincent leapt out of my bed with a shout when he realized where he was.

  “Please forgive me. That was inexcusable.”

  I smirked. “You make a very nice teddy bear.”

  He peered at my leg and shook his head, frowning. “I should report all of you. But I won’t, because then I would have to explain why I assisted, rather than stopped, the illegal activity.” He raked a hand through his curls and sighed. “How is the leg?”

  I sat and eased my legs over the side of the bed. The injured ankle throbbed mildly. Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor and stood. It hurt, but the leg could bear weight. I limped over to him and he caught me in his arms.

  “I do have to admit Dawn does nice work. She fixed the finger I broke once while shooting hoops and I was able to play my violin the same night.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “When am I going to hear that violin of yours, anyway?”

  “You will. I’m going to get ready for breakfast, as should you. You’ve got a big day ahead. I’m not going to ask how you broke that ankle, but I do hope you will decide to tell me at some point.” Vincent stared at me pointedly, then left.

  I hobbled back to my bed, eyes gummy with exhaustion. I was going to have to limp through my day on two hours of sleep. Which was probably a much better day than Xavier was going to have as a prisoner in his dorm room.

  My tired mind crept over the facts. An abandoned wheelchair. A blind boy who ate screams. Then I made the connection. I knew where I’d seen Kevin before. He was the same red-headed boy who had been feeding One-Digit Della at dinner last night.

  20

  BREAKFAST WAS QUIET AND SLUGGISH. DAWN’S eyes slipped closed, head nodding, her fork frozen in motion over her scrambled eggs. Zuber
was haggard and drawn, and even Lila was quiet. Vincent, dark circles under his eyes, stabbed at his omelet like he was harpooning a fish.

  I glanced across the dining hall and spotted Kevin confidently guiding Della’s wheelchair to the table. I watched him spoon cereal into her gaping mouth, the utensil never faltering. Though he couldn’t see a thing, Kevin got the food in without a spill. Apparently, he’d augmented his sound fix somewhere between last night and now.

  I hurried through breakfast and limped after Kevin and Della as they left the dining hall. I realized there had to be an elevator somewhere in the building to accommodate the wheelchair, which was most likely where they were heading.

  Turning down a rarely used hall outside the dining hall, I saw them waiting by a set of steel doors. Kevin whistled, stroking Della’s hair. Della moaned and rolled her head, an arm flailing in his direction. Kevin grabbed her gnarled hand and kissed her finger.

  I limped up to them and grabbed Kevin by the arm.

  He whirled on me. “Hey! You’re not supposed to grab at a blind person like they’re a piece of fruit in a bin.”

  “Do you recognize my voice, or would you prefer if I screamed?”

  A half-smile quirked Kevin’s mouth. “Beth, is it?” He cocked his head. “I hear you’re a singer. Singers make the best screamers, you know.”

  Kevin absently patted Della’s blonde head. She craned her neck to look at me, eyes wide.

  I studied Kevin. “You seem to have your dolphin sense in full working order today. Was our session last night that rewarding?”

  “I have plenty of other resources.”

  “Do you, now?”

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “Well, then. Nice chatting. See ya around, Beth. Or should I say, hear ya?” Kevin snickered and pushed Della’s wheelchair into the elevator chamber. I stuck my good foot in to block the doors from closing.

  Kevin punched at the buttons. “Let it go! We have to be at class.”

  “Singers make great screamers, don’t they? Been visiting any others lately?”

  Kevin frowned. In the elevator light, shrouded by a swath of crazy red curls, he looked like a dust mop. “Ain’t none of your business who I work. Not like I can see ’em, anyways.”

  Kevin scowled in my general direction. Della blinked at me. I let the elevator door close and headed to my first period class, my limp fading with each step.

  As I walked to Literature, I thought about how I’d lost track of the date that I’d first entered High Step. A thick coat of snow still blanketed the grounds, so I figured it couldn’t be more than two weeks ago. It was almost as if the part of my brain that kept time had been tampered with. Memories of my life from before were vague, the sharp edges faded and washed out.

  The place where the Blast Mahoney pin had pricked the skin of my palm began to burn. Xavier had said to keep the button close, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow the key to understanding what really went on in this place. And if he had some similar object of his own to anchor his thoughts.

  Sleep-deprived as I was, the morning classes whizzed by in a blitz of information and spirited debates. To my astonishment, I found that I was engaged in the class discussions like I’d never been before. After third period Physics, where I discovered I was beginning to grasp a subject that used to bore me to tears, I decided that High Step teachers had an uncanny ability for teaching. Lila’s comment about Talented employment statistics struck a chord. I wondered what lay ahead in my own future as a controlled killing machine, how you wrote that on a resume, and what would become of me if I didn’t learn to how to control my dangerous Talent.

  As I was about to enter the dining hall, Monica DeWitt flowed out from the shadows and blocked my path. A glittering smile curved her lips, but I hadn’t forgotten the frost in those opal eyes on the day of my Evaluation.

  “Good afternoon, Beth! How are you enjoying your classes?”

  “They’re great,” I answered honestly. “I’ve never had such amazing teachers.”

  Monica clasped her hands together. “We take pride in our exceptional teaching staff. We train individuals for the best match of Talent to vocation.” She gazed at me expectantly, eyes burning with inner light. Swallowing hard, I pondered what exactly Monica DeWitt’s Talent was.

  “Cool.”

  Monica squinted at me, leaning in closer. “And you’re not wondering what possible application there may be for your particular Talent?”

  I took a step back. “Well, yeah. A little?”

  “I’m going to take your training into my own hands, Beth. A huge and rare Talent such as yours can become a dangerous liability if not handled properly. On the other hand, if it is honed and shaped to a fine point, it can become an asset, an instrument of great power.”

  I stared at her as wide-eyed and innocently as I could.

  “You do understand how important proper training is, yes?” she pressed. “And what might happen if a Talent is left untended?”

  I nodded vigorously. Under the scrutiny of Monica DeWitt’s cool gaze, it occurred to me that High Step was only the smallest tip of an iceberg. That out there somewhere was an entire hidden world of Talented. I shivered.

  “We’ll start today, after lunch.” She arched a finely shaped eyebrow, apparently expecting a more enthusiastic response than the blank stare I offered in return.

  “What about my music education? Wasn’t that what got me in here?” I blurted.

  “Why, yes, of course. We have not forgotten that.” Monica spoke gently, as if explaining to a small child. “You will get guitar and voice lessons, Beth. Our music instructors are experts in their particular areas, as well. Not only do they make music, but they can see it, smell it, or taste it. However, your true Talent, the real reason you are at High Step, takes precedence.”

  My stomach dropped, like I was on an elevator that had plunged between floors too quickly. I said nothing.

  “After lunch, go directly to your room. The items you need for training will be there. Then, meet me in the library.”

  At lunch everyone was even more sluggish than at breakfast. Vincent, I decided, probably needed his beauty rest even more than the rest of us, because he was downright surly. After wolfing down his food, he got up abruptly and left.

  With my insides so taut over my impending lesson with Monica, I was too wound up to eat more than a few bites of my lunch. Noticing that neither Della nor Kevin was in the dining hall, I excused myself twenty minutes early and slipped out. My friends were too tired to call after me.

  No guard was posted outside Xavier’s door, which was slightly ajar. I crept closer and peered inside the room. Sunlight streamed through the window. Giggles came from the moving lumps that rocked and rolled under the blankets. I wanted to turn and run, but sick curiosity rooted me to where I stood. Then I saw the thicket of red hair, intertwined with a tangle of white-gold ringlets.

  I rushed over and pulled back the covers.

  “Why’d you do that, babe? It’s wicked cold in here,” Kevin murmured, his face still buried in the blonde’s breasts. Pancaked under Kevin was a buck-naked girl, who was either a miraculously cured Della or her mythical twin. She glared at me, looking like she was about to breathe fire through her nostrils.

  “Get the hell out of here!” the girl snarled.

  Kevin sat up, searching her face with gentle fingertips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

  “We have company,” the Della lookalike hissed.

  “Shit.” Kevin tilted his head. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s been stalking us.”

  I stepped forward and grabbed the girl’s wrist. “What are you two doing in Xavier’s room? Where is he?”

  “Not here, obviously,” the girl said. Her words slurred slightly as if her jaw was hinged a little too tight. In the corner sat an empty wheelchair.

  “How the hell—?”

  Della’s head jerked slightly. “Thanks a lot for wasting our time. We o
nly get a few minutes to—” Her words were cut off by a snap of her jaw. “K-Kevin. I’m sorry,” she stuttered, her limbs contorting and curling inward.

  Kevin took Della’s rigid hand and pressed it to his cheek, his voice choked. “Go! She doesn’t like people to see her when she reverts.”

  “Just tell me what the hell is going on.” A vague swath of darkness streaked across the ceiling. I tried to slow my breath, but my heart pounded like a tribal drum.

  “Mostly she’s trapped inside her own body, in terrible pain at all times. But Della can escape.”

  “How?”

  Kevin lovingly drew the covers over Della, who had stiffened as if she’d been turned to stone. “Her Talent is Transference. She can claim the health of others. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d just have some common decency and leave us in peace,” Kevin said. Blushing pink under his freckles, he’d apparently remembered that he was stark naked himself.

  “I get it. She shifts her disability onto someone else so she’s free to screw you? How about you? Got your dolphin radar on?”

  “We’re in love,” Kevin stated emphatically, as if that explained everything.

  He gathered Della’s bent form in his arms, hefted her to the wheelchair, and struggled to tug her clothes over her unyielding limbs.

  “Who’s paying the price for your fun?” I asked.

  “Someone who deserves it.” Kevin slipped on his own clothes and maneuvered Della’s clunky wheelchair toward the door.

  They blocked the doorway. Kevin caressed Della’s cheek with the backs of his fingers and Della stared straight at me. A corner of her twitching mouth curved up in a smile.

  The first spasm arched my back and knocked me heavily to the floor. My limbs curled in on themselves, my fingers contorting into stiff claws. The pain was a deep ache, a fire inside my bones. My jaw flexed painfully off its hinge. I lay there, in frozen agony, understanding instantly what it meant to be Della.