Fern considered telling Sam right then and there about the dream she’d had about Miles Zapo.
When she had told Sam about her previous dreams, he’d insisted that she start writing everything down.
“What if you’re actually seeing the other ten of the Unusual Eleven?” Sam had exclaimed over breakfast. “Maybe you’re having visions of them and the dreams are important. Didn’t the lightning storm connect you all together? Wasn’t that part of the prophecy?”
The prophecy about the Unusual Eleven, the special group of eleven Otherworldlies, all having the ability to teleport as well as distinct individual talents, had been circulating for thousands of years. A little over a decade ago, rumors spread that eleven otherworldly births, which were exceedingly rare even singly, all occurred on the same day, during a series of electrical storms throughout the world. Soon buzz began anew among otherworldlies that the prophesied Unusual Eleven had finally arrived. The Unusual Eleven, the most powerful and unique otherworldlies in existence, were assumed to share a special connection, stronger than any other bond existing between living creatures.
Ever since Fern had been officially confirmed as one of the Unusual Eleven, her life had turned upside down and inside out. In the span of a month, she’d learned that otherworldlies were the real-life version of vampires from the legends. She’d discovered that she’d been adopted by Mary Lou McAllister, the only woman she’d previously ever known as her mother. Mary Lou had been chosen by her best friend, Fern’s now deceased otherworldly birth mother, to step in to protect Fern from any exploitation resulting from her Unusual status. Fern also learned that she could harness water with fearsome results, teleport to any location she could visualize in her mind, and that she was part of a large otherworldly secret society divided into two distinct groups: Blouts and Rollens. Blouts had no problem using and destroying their Normal human counterparts. Rollens wanted to live peacefully within Normal society. Fern had been identified as a Rollen when she nearly killed Vlad, one of the most powerful vampires in existence, after Vlad had threatened to harm the rest of the McAllisters if Fern did not join the Blouts.
All Otherworldlies had superhuman abilities. Lindsey Lin, for instance, was an Otherworldly who could, under certain conditions, conjure up a vision of what was happening in any part of the world. Kenneth Quagmire, who was head of the Rollen faction of Otherworldlies, could manipulate and eradicate memories.
The strangest part of Fern’s recent past, though, was that because of her confirmed Unusual identity, in the secretive underground Otherworldly community she had become a full-fledged celebrity. Strange visitors appeared at the McAllister doorstep, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl who’d nearly defeated one of the most powerful and feared Blouts. Eventually Mrs. McAllister, better known as “the Commander” to the McAllister brood (who had given her the nickname because of her military-style parenting), installed a security system, including a closed-circuit camera network that monitored the McAllister house’s perimeter twenty-four hours a day.
A few months ago, Fern never would have believed any of it. Neither would her family, for that matter. Not her older brother, Eddie, or her mother, or least of all, Sam. Although Sam was becoming somewhat of an Unusual Eleven-Rollen-Otherworldly geek, constantly trying to discover more about his sister’s past. Fern knew, as only a sister could, that Sam, more than anything else, was secretly worried about her and channeled his energy into activities he viewed as helpful.
Fern had almost come to expect that kind of devotion from Sam. Her birth mother, Phoebe Merriam, may have died long ago, Fern realized, but before she did, she’d managed to pick a pretty amazing surrogate family for her daughter. Landing the McAllisters as her adoptive family was, perhaps, the first and only time Fern had been lucky in her life.
Still, Sam McAllister was everything Fern was not: blond, athletic, tan, popular, and, most of all, normal. Though Sam was her closest friend and confidant, Fern could feel the differences growing between them, like a snowball gaining mass as it rolls down a mountain. She was sure that the snowball wedged between them had already started tumbling downhill and there was little she could do to stop it.
She decided to table telling Sam about her latest dream until after the Washington, DC, trip. Most likely Sam would ask her about the dream when they were alone. But they probably wouldn’t be alone any time soon. Sam would be off with his friends Preston and Taylor, and Fern would be with Lindsey anyway. There was no reason to get Sam riled up now. After all, Fern wasn’t even sure if any of her visions were real, part of her transmutation, revelations of the past or future, or merely bad dreams.
Regardless, it could certainly wait a week.
Sam, white knuckles intact, survived the landing without incident (as did Fern and Lindsey). The students of St. Gregory’s spilled out of the plane and into Dulles International Airport. A few minutes later, though the bags from Flight 187 were starting to stack up on carousel three, there were no students retrieving luggage. Instead, all sixty-four St. Gregory’s students were huddled around Headmaster Mooney, excitedly shouting back and forth to one another.
“If you don’t quiet down,” Headmaster Mooney yelled, “I will not read this list.” Headmaster Mooney, who Matt McGraw estimated weighed over three hundred pounds, smoothed over his bushy gray and brown mustache with his index finger and thumb. He then moved his hand to his reflective bald head and rested it there.
“I repeat: I can wait as long as it takes, but I will not scream over sixty-four voices.”
Because Headmaster Mooney normally wore a suit and tie to school, Fern thought he looked quite strange today in khaki pants and a hooded sweatshirt. She realized it was sort of like seeing Santa Claus in street clothes. That is, if Santa Claus was a fashion idiot.
Mooney was flanked by chaperones. Mrs. McAllister and Lindsey’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Lin, were on one side of him. On his other side stood Lee Phillips’s mother and Mr. Billing, the physical sciences teacher at St. Gregory’s, who was also the father of one of the students.
“You will each be assigned to a group, named for a famous United States president. A group will be led by one chaperone, and there will be four rooms in each group. One chaperone will be a floating chaperone to help me with all parts of the trip. We’ve tried to honor your roommate requests when possible, but these room assignments are NONNEGOTIABLE. Understood?”
No one bothered responding to Headmaster Mooney. The buzz grew louder as every St. Gregory’s student chattered excitedly to friends, hoping to land in a room together.
“Why doesn’t Mrs. Headmaster Mooney ever come on these trips?” Sam cracked, loud enough for most of the group to hear.
“You think Headmaster Mooney convinced someone to become Mrs. Headmaster Mooney? Are you crazy?” Preston Buss, Sam’s best friend at St. Gregory’s, responded.
“Did you put me down on your roommate request form?” Fern asked Lindsey Lin, who was standing right next to her.
“Of course I did,” Lindsey said.
“Good, because I’m sure no one else requested me,” Fern said nervously, with a forced half smile. Fern wouldn’t have blamed Lindsey if she hadn’t put Fern’s name down. Fern was only in seventh grade, and Lindsey was in eighth and had loads of friends.
“Don’t start freaking out on me. I’m sure someone else requested you. But even if they didn’t . . . as long as we both put each other down, we’ll be in the same room. Guaranteed.”
Without fail, every year there was a period of social jockeying and anxiety right before the Washington trip. Who a student roomed with on the trip could determine his or her friend landscape for the next few years.
Room discussions and requests began as soon as the planning for the DC trip commenced, and some students were inevitably left out. By the time rooms were actually announced at the baggage claim area of Dulles Airport’s Terminal A, more than a few friendships had been completely destroyed. A few years ago, three of the more popular girls had auctioned off
the last space in their room to the highest bidder. The bidding stopped at one hundred fifty dollars after someone informed Headmaster Mooney of the scheme. Since then, the administration tried to mix the groups up somewhat. Rooming assignments became a little more random.
Still, everything about the way Headmaster Mooney announced room assignments was a deliberate choice on his part. For example, he always waited until after the students were three thousand miles removed from their parents. It was of no use for parents to storm into his office at school complaining that little Johnny was rooming with his arch-nemesis when Headmaster Mooney was resting peacefully in his deluxe suite at the Washington Marriott on the other side of the country.
He stood under the arrivals board and cleared his throat one last time before beginning the announcement.
“The first group, the Washington group, will be chaperoned by Mrs. Lin. Please gather around Mrs. Lin when you hear your name.” Fern turned and saw Lindsey’s mother holding a large poster-board cutout of George Washington above her head. Though Mrs. Lin was known for her elegance, she looked ridiculous now—like an offbeat chauffeur waiting for her best client, good old George, to arrive from Mount Vernon. Fern wondered why St. Gregory’s couldn’t just use numbers or different-colored umbrellas like other DC tourist groups. Perhaps Headmaster Mooney wanted credit for beginning the students’ historical experience right here in Terminal A.
“Room one in the Washington group will be,” Headmaster Mooney continued, “Preston Buss, Taylor Kushner, Greg Daniels, and Sam McAllister.” That’s good for Sam, Fern thought. He’s with Preston and Taylor. Preston high-fived Sam gleefully. They ran over to Mrs. Lin, who was still valiantly holding George Washington’s face above her head.
“Washington group, room two,” Headmaster Mooney shouted. Fern noticed his face beginning to turn red from the strain of trying to be heard over sixty-four excited kids, not to mention the other amused passengers jockeying for their luggage. “Mary Eileen Noff, Olivia Bruno, Alexa Freed, and Lindsey Lin.”
Guided by instinct, Lindsey grabbed Fern’s upper arm. Fern turned a whiter shade of pale as she shook her arm free.
“I thought you put me down!” Fern cried.
“I did. I swear,” Lindsey said. “Maybe they’re not letting seventh graders room with eighth graders. Or someone else must have put you down.” Fern looked skeptically at Lindsey. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mary Eileen and Olivia celebrating the fact that they were in a room with Lindsey.
Though they were best friends, Lindsey and Fern were newly minted best friends. They had bonded over the fact that they were both Otherworldlies. Lindsey’s whole family was Otherworldly, and she’d learned to fit in with Normals like her parents had—which is to say, far better than Fern. Though being friends with the popular and older Lindsey had improved Fern’s social standing, she was still regarded as a total freak by most of her schoolmates. In truth, most of the kids at St. Gregory’s had decided that Fern was another one of Lindsey’s charity projects, and in addition to Fern, Lindsey still had dozens of friends she spent time with. Alexa and Mary Eileen were on the volleyball team with her. Olivia was the secretary of the Associated Student Body. Lindsey, of course, was president. While Lindsey was the sun in Fern’s friend solar system, Fern was merely one of many moons in Lindsey’s.
Fern saw Sam eyeing them. She could tell her brother was alarmed by the fact that she and Lindsey weren’t rooming together.
“Maybe you’re with Nancy Greenbaum,” Lindsey said, in a hopeful tone. Nancy Greenbaum was one of the nicest girls at St. Gregory’s, let alone the seventh grade. She was very quiet and studious, with pretty blond hair and a perfect J. Crew fashion sense. She also didn’t get involved in the catty stab-you-in-the-back friend wars the other girls at St. Gregory’s relished. She truly was above it all. Nancy Greenbaum would not go out of her way to be mean to Fern. In fact, she would probably even talk to Fern. The rest of the girls in the seventh and eighth grades, though, were likely to torment her.
Perhaps the girls weren’t totally to blame. Fern was abnormally abnormal. She had terrible sensitivities to the sun and horrible stomachaches that sent her to the nurse’s office on a regular basis; she spent most recesses in the maple tree in the south corner of the soccer field and claimed she could talk to her dog. Almost worse, Fern actually could talk to her dog. Until Lindsey offered help in the form of special Otherworldly eyedrops, she also had worn sunglasses to and from class (and sometimes into class) because she couldn’t handle the brightness of the morning sun. Fern and Sam had named them her Breakfast Sunglasses. Some seventh graders were branded freaks and had to live with an undeserved label until well into high school. Fern, for better or worse, actually was one.
“You’d better go over to your group,” Fern said, eyeing Mary Eileen and Alexa, who had found Olivia in the crowd of students and were waving Lindsey over. Lindsey gave Fern a sympathetic look.
“I’ll be fine,” Fern said, not wanting her own lowly social status to hold Lindsey back. She remembered what Eddie had told her before they left—her older brother had said that the other kids would come around if she were confident in herself. Of course, as the star of the St. Gregory’s football team, it was pretty easy for Eddie to be confident. Fern, though, was a different story. Nevertheless, she continued trying to exude poise. “I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be on separate trips. We just won’t be sleeping in the same room. No big deal.”
Confident or not, Fern and Lindsey knew that on a school trip, nighttime—a time when all the authority figures retired to their separate rooms—was also when the fun began for most and the real torment kicked in for Fern. In some ways, nights on school trips resembled the early days of the Wild Wild West before Wyatt Earp had arrived to keep people in line. The Commander called the kind of activities that went on “shenanigans.”
Last year, the sixth grade had traveled to Sacramento, the California state capital, on an overnight trip. Fern tried not to fall asleep. She finally did doze off, only to wake up with her head duct taped to the mattress. Getting the tape off meant painfully ripping away some of her skin as well.
Fern looked around the baggage claim area and realized that the other students were avoiding her. Everyone yet to be called was steering clear of her, confirming her worst fears. The groups that had been called were already standing at the baggage carousel, collecting suitcases.
Headmaster Mooney, sweat forming on his brow, had finished calling out the Washington group and was now announcing the Jefferson group. Mr. Billing waved a cutout of Jefferson’s head above his own.
“Nancy Greenbaum,” the headmaster called out, completing the Jefferson contingent. It was official. All hope was lost for Fern.
After the Madison group was announced, the Lincoln group was next. Headmaster Mooney was naming the presidential groups in chronological order, continuing his Terminal A history lesson. The chaperone for the Lincoln group was Mrs. Phillips, Lee Phillips’s mother. Lee was one of the cruelest girls at St. Gregory’s. One look at Lee’s mother, and Fern was convinced that she must be just as cruel as her daughter. Mrs. Phillips was wearing a fitted olive-colored Diesel leather jacket, a short skirt with black tights, and red Ferragamo heels, and she had bleach-in-a-bottle hair as shiny as a new car.
Fern would have done anything to avoid Mrs. Phillips’s group.
Headmaster Mooney started out by calling the names of a group of boys. “Room one: Lance Figgins, Grady O’Keefe, Jimmy Wells, and Mike Sullivan,” Headmaster Mooney rattled off. “Room two: Fern McAllister, Candace Tutter . . .”
Fern’s heart began trembling inside her chest. She tried to calm herself, though—Candace Tutter wasn’t Lindsey, but it could be a lot worse. Candace was a genius. Not the normal kind of genius, who everyone thinks is smart. But a ten-year-old who was too smart for each grade she’d entered, with an IQ off the charts. She knew tidbits about everything a person could think of, rattled these tidbits off in rapid succ
ession, was rumored to have a photographic memory, and had already skipped two grades. Most everybody at St. Gregory’s ignored her, except when they needed homework answers. Candace, though, did not ignore most everybody in return. In fact, she was constantly following people around, observing them and writing things down in the spiral notebook she’d labeled “A Systematic Study and Survey of the St. Gregory’s Student in Its Natural Habitat.” Fern worried about keeping her Otherworldly and Unusual status secret from Candace.
She breathed in and out, trying to normalize her heart rate, anxiously waiting for Headmaster Mooney to read the next two names.
“Blythe Conrad,” Headmaster Mooney announced as Fern gasped out loud. Oh no. How could it be?
“And Lee Phillips,” Mooney said, completing the group.
Fern whipped her head around and found Blythe Conrad and Lee Phillips in the dwindling crowd of students. They smiled at each other as if they knew something the rest of the world didn’t.
Blythe Conrad and Lee Phillips were best friends who bonded over three things: boys, bands, and bullying Fern.
Together, Blythe and Lee had come up with the nickname “Freaky Fern” and spread it throughout St. Gregory’s. They’d attacked her in the bathroom several months ago, lopping off clumps of her hair with scissors, and, as a pair, they were responsible for the majority of the tears Fern had shed in the past two years. Worse still, the two blond girls’ hatred for Fern had only grown recently as she gained notoriety and found a friend in Lindsey.
It was as if someone had set out to find the worst three girls in the school for Fern to room with—and they had succeeded in spades. Fern had hit the bad roommate trifecta.
She mournfully shuffled her feet forward, as she forced herself toward her chaperone. Mrs. Phillips was clutching Honest Abe’s cardboard head with both hands and brandishing it wildly from side to side as if she were on a street corner advertising an everything-must-go, going-out-of-business sale. Blythe and Lee stood together, their eyes shining with anticipation of the terror they would be able to inflict on Fern over the next week.
The Siren's Cry Page 2
