Gift of Death (Gifted Book 1)

by Lin Augustine

  Sprinkle of truth.

  Giselle nods solemnly. Ron can see the gears turning in Giselle’s head. She’s thinking, planning. Meanwhile, Iris pouts like a sad puppy. She’s absorbing, reacting.

  “You think we can head out tomorrow?” Giselle asks.

  “The sooner the better,” Ron says.

  “You’ll probably need a place to stay, right? We have an extra room. Plus, Iris is one hell of a cook.”

  Iris smiles and claps her hands together. “Ooh, a guest! What should I make for dinner?”

  Giselle smiles at Iris and tucks one of Iris’s flyaways behind her ear. “Whatever you want, love.”

  Ron smiles too. She’s got them. Hook, line and sinker.

  Chapter 8

  Hunter and I walk out of the forest. He’s a bit in front of me, leading me to the canteen, which it turns out is that large white building on the far side of the camp. Many others are also heading over there.

  As we walk over, I hurry a bit to walk next to him.

  “Li said I should go to Cabin 10,” I say. “Do I have to go there first?”

  He laughs.

  “What’s so funny?” I say.

  He points at himself. “Cabin 10.”

  “I’m going to be in a cabin with… a boy?”

  “The cabins are co-ed. Besides, you won’t be with a boy. You’ll be with two boys. Lucky you.” He chuckles again. “But to answer your earlier question, nah you don’t need to go there first. Me and Remy will head there after dinner anyway so you can tag along.”

  I frown. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Why does going to our cabin after dinner not make sense?” he says playfully.

  I sigh. “You know what I’m talking about. The co-ed thing.”

  “Well, if it bothers you that much, you can ask Li to let you stay in one of the empty cabins. Cabins 11 and 12 are empty. The rest are full, except for ours which has room for one more person now that you’re here.”

  “This other boy isn’t some kid, right? I’d rather not babysit.”

  “Nah, Remy and I are the same age, probably a little older than you. You’re like, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “Oh. Then we’re just a year older than you. Anyway, the kids are mostly in Cabins 1 to 6. Three kids, one adult in each. But the teenager cabins don’t have supervisors so it’ll just be us.”

  We arrive at the white building but instead of going inside, we walk around to the back.

  “That’s the kitchen in there,” Hunter says as we pass.

  Attached to the white building is a large pavilion with an upside down V roof supported by square wooden poles on the perimeter. Fairy lights are strung between the poles, lighting up the area in the quickly approaching darkness. Inside, most of the picnic tables are already full of kids and teens chatting and chomping down on grilled meats, veggies and mashed potatoes. At the far end of the pavilion, Li and some other adults sit and eat at a table close to a small stage. The stage is a built-in square set up a couple feet higher than the rest of the floor. There’s just a podium on it at the front center, but no microphone or anything.

  Hunter takes me a bit inside of the white building, where a buffet is lined up. We grab some food and drinks and go out the door. He weaves his way through the tables, getting closer to where Li is. He stops at a table where a teen boy and a ton of kids are sitting, taking up the whole table. The boy is eating but the kids—mostly boys—are just bombarding him with questions about soccer or something.

  “Alright, skedaddle,” the boy says to the kids when he sees me and Hunter.

  “Aww, but Remy,” one of the kids whines, “the game tomorrow…”

  “Come on, you guys know you’re ready. All you need to do now is eat a good meal and get a good night’s sleep. So go eat.”

  The kids hop up, psyched. “Yeah, we’re ready,” they say to one another over and over as they split apart and join various other tables.

  Hunter and I sit down. Now that the boy—Remy, I guess—isn’t crowded with children, I can get a better look at him. His skin is white, but everything else about him is dark—his hair and eyes and thick caterpillar eyebrows and thick arm hair. His hair is cut low, spiked up with some sort of gel. His hairline is neat with a sharp widow’s peak. Even as we’re sitting, I can tell he’s tall. And he has an athletic build—not the bulky kind, but the slim, toned kind without an ounce of fat. He has a huge mass of food piled onto his plate, which he eats slowly, chewing every bite carefully.

  As Hunter takes a bite of his food, he says, “This is Chrys. She’ll be in our cabin.”

  “Chrys with a y,” I say.

  “Hi Chrys,” Remy says. “My name is Remington, but please call me Remy.”

  “Okay, nice to meet you Remington,” I say.

  “I just told you to call me Remy.”

  “Shouldn’t have told me your full name then.”

  He laughs. His teeth are perfectly straight and white. “Fair point.”

  I take a bite of grilled peppers and steak together. It’s been a while since I’ve had a hot, freshly cooked meal like this. It’s like heaven in my mouth.

  “Remy is one of the coaches,” Hunter says.

  “There are teams? Are they mandatory?” I say grimly, taking another bite.

  “Don’t worry,” Remington says. “It’s just something to keep the little ones occupied and teach them to control their gifts. You definitely don’t have to participate.”

  “Good,” I say.

  “But we do have a kickball game tomorrow morning, so you’re welcome to come watch and cheer us on.”

  “Uh, I don’t… cheer,” I say.

  “Okay, then what do you do?”

  I blink quickly a couple times. “I don’t… I don’t do anything.”

  “No hobbies or anything?”

  “Hobbies? I just spent the last couple of months on the run, looking for this place. And before that I spent all my free time looking into gifted people. What hobbies? Who has time for hobbies?”

  Hunter puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s weird, so I shake him off.

  “Remy has been here for a long time, Chrys, and he never had to search for the camp either,” Hunter says. “So excuse him. He doesn’t understand what it’s like.”

  Remington’s face goes red. “I’m really sorry if I upset you.”

  I peer at him. Is he blushing? Why is he doing that?

  I sigh. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How did you get here then?”

  His face starts to lose its redness. “Shikoba,” he points to a man sitting with Li, with chestnut brown skin and thick, silver hair slicked back into a ponytail, “he adopted me when I was a baby and brought me here.”

  “So you grew up here?” I ask.

  “Mhm.”

  “You’re pretty lucky,” I say.

  “Yeah, I guess…” His face is almost not red anymore. “It’s okay, you can ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “You want to know, don’t you? Why he adopted me.”

  I shrug. “Because you harmed your family somehow. Who among us hasn’t done that?”

  “Have you?” he asks.

  “Obviously.”

  I look down at my food and take a big bite of mashed potatoes. It’s so smooth and buttery.

  Hunter, practically finished with his own food now, jumps in and asks Remington something about the game tomorrow, so they launch into sports talk. Grateful for the change of subject, I ignore them. I focus on the taste of the food, savoring it and pushing away thoughts of the announcement I have to make. Probably soon, judging by the way Li keeps glancing at me.

  I love this food. I love myself.

  Li stands up.

  My heart races. I love myself.

>   Li steps up onto the stage.

  I put my fork down. I love myself.

  Li goes to the podium.

  Everyone is silent now. The only thing I hear is:

  I love myself. I love myself. I love myself.

  “Hello, everyone,” Li says, beaming. “I hope you’ve had a good dinner. I’d just like to make some announcements. First, Valeria and her team have returned safely, and no bad news about the giftists.”

  Everyone claps and cheers.

  When the noise dies down, Li says, “Second, Kyle has finished his second task!”

  The cheers are significantly more subdued.

  “Poor sucker,” Hunter says under his breath, clapping quietly.

  “She tells everyone about the tasks?” I say in a low voice, hands shaking.

  Hunter and Remington nod.

  “Next,” Li says, “there is a kickball match tomorrow in the field at 10. Please come and watch the Flamethrowers and the Earthshakers in their final match of the season.”

  Some young kids shout and holler over each other, some saying “Flamethrowers!” and the others saying “Earthshakers!”

  “Which one is yours?” I say to Remington, trying to calm my nerves.

  “Flamethrowers,” he says, avoiding my gaze. “It was their idea.”

  “And finally,” Li says, raising her voice to silence the hollering kids, “as some of you may know, we have a new member joining our camp today.”

  My heart just about stops.

  “Today, she will introduce herself and do her first task,” Li says.

  It’s dead silent. Even the low muttering that slowly built up while Li was talking is gone.

  “Chrys?” Li says.

  She looks at me, making everyone else turn my way too. I freeze. She gestures for me to come.

  Hunter leans over and whispers into my ear, “You said you’d do them all, remember? You backing down now?”

  I breathe out and focus on the rough wood below my thighs. Then I stand up, a bit shakily, and head to the stage. There are no steps going up so I heave myself up using my hands.

  Li steps aside and I take her place. She hovers beside me, watching me, like all the others.

  “Um,” I say. I look into the crowd. Most are unfamiliar faces, but I spot Hunter and Remington nodding me on, Valeria with a grim look on her face sitting in the back with people I don’t recognize, Jayden and Tam at a table near her with expectant and smug looks.

  “My name is Chrys…” I say.

  “With a y,” Hunter shouts, smiling.

  I chuckle. I actually chuckle. And I remember this afternoon when we spoke, and that tiny shred of confidence I somehow mustered back then. I remember that feeling. It’s nowhere near as strong now but I remember it. And then I speak.

  “Yes, with a y. I’m glad to finally have made it to Camp Amaryllis. Um… like Li said, I’m going to do my first task… now. She asked me to tell you what my gift is so…”

  Everyone’s eyes are fixed on me. Some look bored, some curious, some doubtful. They hardly blink.

  “So,” I continue, gripping the front of the podium, the wood digging into my palms. The confidence is shrinking fast, with every word. My voice gets quieter and quieter as I speak, “My gift is death…”

  Muttering. Confused looks. I look away from them, down at my hands on the podium.

  A hand on my back. “You’re doing great,” Li says quietly. “Keep going.”

  I grip tighter. “If I touch someone with my hand… I can make them die… of a heart attack of something. But it’s quick and painless.”

  “How do you know it’s painless?” a little girl’s voice asks.

  “Uh, well, it seems that way,” I say, still not looking up, “because it happens in an instant. No time to really feel anything.”

  “So you don’t really know then?” the girl says.

  “Uh…”

  “Can it work through clothes?” a boy asks.

  “No,” I say. “It has to be skin to skin…”

  Sighs of relief.

  “Better start covering up,” I hear a boy nearby say to his table and some “mhm” in agreement.

  “Why do we gotta be the ones to cover up?” a girl says in response.

  I look up, panicked. Most are talking among themselves, not looking at me anymore—their tone quick and dark and rising. The ones who are looking at me have fear in their eyes.

  “I-I would never hurt any of you,” I say, but no one changes.

  Li, her hand on my back this whole time, removes it. “Thank you, Chrys,” she says, just so I can hear. “Congratulations on finishing your first task. I’m afraid I’ll be going on a trip for a couple days, so when I return, I’ll give you your second task, okay?”

  The voices are getting louder. People are starting to get up and bring their plates inside. I’m looking out at them, frozen.

  “Okay?” Li says.

  I nod dully.

  “Good. Enjoy the rest of your night.” She gets down from the podium and takes her plate inside with the others at her table.

  Is she kidding? Enjoy the rest of my night?

  Hunter and Remington bring their plates and mine inside as I still stand there at the podium, unmoving. Most have gotten up and left now.

  They come over to me.

  “Are you coming down?” Hunter says.

  I look down at Hunter, but avoid looking at Remington directly. I don’t want to see how he looks at me now, how his expression has changed.

  “Let’s go to the cabin,” Hunter says.

  I blink at him. He comes up the stage and pulls me away from the podium. He guides me down and away from the canteen. He holds my forearm and pulls me toward the cabin, Remington walking next to Hunter, and everyone else giving us a wide berth.

  Chapter 9

  Remington closes the cabin door behind us and relief rushes over me. No more people, no more talking, no more stares. Good. I can almost breathe again, move again.

  “This is it,” Hunter says. He lets go of my forearm and shows off the room with a wave of his arm. “Pretty homey, huh?”

  “Homey. Sure,” I say.

  The cabin is quite large with horizontal wood paneling on the walls. There’s a simple chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, lit up now, and a fluffy burgundy rug below their feet. Another wooden door is at the far end of the cabin. The rest of the cabin is almost a mirror image—two sets of bunk beds, but instead of a bed on the bottom, there’s a desk underneath, and wardrobes next to the beds on each side.

  There is, however, one distinct part of the cabin. On the bed closest to the door on the left side, jeans, tracksuits, shirts, even underwear—ew—cover the desk part and flow down onto the chair and floor. On the wall above the desk, there are drawings of people playing sports, maybe famous athletes. I wouldn’t know.

  There are also large pieces of calligraphy saying stuff like: “The mind that is anxious about future events is miserable. -Seneca,” “Learn to be indifferent to what makes no difference. -Marcus Aurelius,” “Man conquers the world by conquering himself. -Zeno of Citium.”

  On the left, the bunk bed furthest from the door looks unused. As do both beds on the right side of the cabin.

  “Uh,” I say, “which one is yours, Hunter?”

  Hunter turns to me with a dumbfounded expression.

  Remington laughs behind me. “See dude? I told you.” He continues to chuckle as he walks past us to his bed and starts picking up the clothes and stuffing them in his wardrobe, unfolded.

  Hunter points to the bed next to Remington’s. “That one. That’s mine. Isn’t it obvious?”

  I look closer. I can’t see the top of the bed from down here but the desk and walls surrounding it are empty. Then I see something on the desk chair.
/>   “Ah, yes,” I say. “Black backpack—so you.”

  Hunter nods approvingly. “Exactly.” He gestures to the other side of the room. “So, this whole side is yours. Take your pick.” He points to the door on the far wall of the cabin. “And that’s the bathroom there. Make sure you lock the door.”

  “Make sure you guys lock the door,” I say.

  “Not making any promises,” Remington says, stuffing clothes into the drawers in his wardrobe.

  I sigh and turn toward Remington’s back. “Then I’ll knock first. All you have to do is answer if you’re in there. Think you can handle that, Remington?”

  Remington turns away from his drawers. For the first time since the meeting, I find myself looking him in the face. I didn’t mean to, but he just turned so suddenly. But he’s smiling, and his eyes look… amused I guess. I release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

  “Sure, I can handle that,” he says. “Do you think you can handle calling me Remy instead of Remington for crying out loud?”

  “I can’t handle that, sorry. I don’t call people by nicknames,” I say.

  I walk over to the bunk across from Hunter’s.

  “But isn’t your name short for like Chrystina or something?” Remington says. “Isn’t Chrys a nickname?”

  “No, my name is Chrys.” I point to the bed. “I’ll take this one. I don’t want to be near that storm over there.”

  Hunter chuckles. “I told you to clean up.”

  “That’s what I’m doing now, dude.”

  “You call that cleaning?” Hunter says.

  The two of them continue to argue about cleaning or something.

  I stand in front of the bed, only now realizing I didn’t bring anything else with me. I just have the clothes on my back and what’s in my pants pockets—the gloves and the phone. I take them out of my pocket and put the gloves on the desk. I open the flip phone. 8:23. 72% battery. Two bars. So there’s still signal in here? I want to call Ron, but it’s best to save the battery until I can find a cord for it. I power it down and put it in one of the desk drawers.