Chapter 11: Fireflies
I’m lying in bed, restless, waiting for the moment when my new identity will sink in and, more importantly, stay there. My thoughts whirl around the fact that it might be possible to see my mom again. I’m edgy and can’t stay still. I roll from one position to another, pulling the sheet with me each time. Finally, I throw the sheet on the floor, then press my face into a pillow.
My mind won’t stop racing. Multiple scenarios play over and over. If only I had Mom’s bracelet, I could go back and find her now.
By three a.m., the only thing I know for certain is that I’ve made a promise to myself to save my mom from the car accident that killed her, no matter what.
I have endless questions for which I have no answers. They repeatedly scroll through my mind. Where did wandering originate? How did Mom keep it from Ray? Who are the others on my list of weird? Wanderers too? How does British Stalker Boy play into this? Will I see him again? My heart races at the thought. I hope, in the days to come, I will find answers. All the answers.
Even though I’ve experienced wandering for myself, I still find the concept difficult to believe. I can’t say the instances themselves feel like dreams because they’re real—real life, to be exact. They could be just another part of my day. The unreal, dream-like parts are the in-between, morphing between two time periods, dark limbo wrapping around my body and catapulting me through space—that will take some getting used to.
My aimless examining tires me to the point that I can no longer think. Finally, I shut down and succumb to a deep slumber.
•
I find myself in the most glorious dream. It’s night, not a cloud in the sky. A zillion stars trail across the far reaches of the heavens. They kiss the edges of each horizon.
The cool, dry landscape of undulating earth sits void of any human structure. Hearing a rustle in the light breeze, I turn. A field, as far as I can see, stretches behind me. When I turn and step forward, my foot presses upon cool sand. Grains sift between my toes. I look to my left and then right. I’m standing on the line between contrasting environments: a field and a desert. I can’t help thinking that one is my past and the other my future.
I inhale a large breath. My nostrils flare, pulling in the scent of mint. The breeze swirls around my white cotton dress, billowing it around me. I smooth down the fabric flat with my palms onto my bare legs.
Farther away, an alluring light grows from the inner reaches of a long trench. Its beams dance around and spread far into the sky like the northern lights. They’re beautiful, glowing in yellows and greens. Fascinated, I walk on to look closer.
Crickets chirp at my bare feet. Dry plants scrape my ankles. These details remind me that this is a dream because if I were awake, I know that walking barefoot through nature would bother me, but here it doesn’t. It feels natural, like something I’ve done a million times before.
The long trench makes me wonder what could be making the magnificent light display. I have to know, so I walk closer to the edge of the cliff. I stop, remembering I’m afraid of heights. Looking over means that I will have to look over the edge and down into the canyon. Uncomfortable tingles race up my arms.
I want to see more, but I can’t. I’m too scared. Finally, I talk myself into taking baby steps. Closer and closer, inch by inch, my heart and breathing tighten. I can do this. I want to see more. Then I hold my breath. I imagine my toes curling over the edge. Tingles shoot down my legs with anxiety. I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and reason with myself. The spot where I stand now is no different than ten paces ago.
Finally, when I look down into the trench, a blast of intense light as blinding as the sun overtakes my vision. The light cools as my eyes adapt. The trench sits long but only a few feet deep. I chuckle at my stupidity. I had imagined it as deep as the Grand Canyon. I always make things worse than they really are. When I’m brave enough to face my fears, they’re never as bad as I imagine.
Stepping down into the trench, the light ripples away like water. It’s not just one source of light, but millions that make the whole, many acting as one.
Kneeling down, I touch the light again, but the illuminated beings recoil. They lift into the air and swirl around my body, separating into a million little lights. Raising my arms into the sky, I feel them. Fireflies skim the edges of my skin, enveloping me in a vortex of shimmering sparkles. They surge off into the night sky, melding with the stars. Beautiful. A million fireflies. A million beautiful possibilities.
•
“Seraphina!”
The next morning, I’m dragging myself down the stairs when Mona calls for me. Because I’m so tired, I don’t respond. Instead of yelling back, I just stomp down the final staircase to alert her of my arrival. Raising my voice might make my headache worse.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” she asks when she sees me at the top of the stairs.
“What gave it away? The huge purple bags under my eyes, or the fact that you informed me that I can time travel?” My hand slides down the banister with each step. “Just so you know, that information isn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep.” I smile weakly.
“Sorry. It didn’t go exactly as planned, but I suppose it never really does.” She forces a smile. The edges of her mouth crinkle into a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” She looks away for a moment before she speaks again. “It’s silly, really. It’s just you’re growing up so fast.” Mona tears up and wraps me in a hug when I reach the bottom step.
“Mona, you’re acting like I’m going on my first date or something.” Actually, she’s acting like a real mom.
“I know. You’re right. I guess I’m a little emotional. In our world, it’s a coming of age thing. I only wish Eliza was here to share it with you.”
I don’t respond, but of course I wish the same. I wonder if Mom’s reaction would have been like Mona’s. I hope so. The thought makes me happy.
My mind flutters with dreams of a life with the woman I never had a chance to know, but I push them back, controlling my emotions. I can’t go down that road of thought again. I spent the entire night thinking about her. That’s why I’m so exhausted…and too hyper. I might break out in manic laughter or tears. I'm an emotional basket case waiting to explode.
Mona pats my back. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I press my lips together. I’m eager to get the day started.
•
Déjà vu hits me when we reach the Academy. I’ll be starting a new school—again. Windswept snow carpets the campus as before. But this time, a lifeless courtyard sits before us. It’s 7:30 a.m. on Saturday, after all. Most every one of my new friends are still nestled in their beds, sleeping.
When we reach the stairs to the main entrance, they’re perfectly clear of ice and snow. The building is a stately and beautiful replica of the west building. The inscription above the columns reads Tempus Rerum Imperator. I don’t know what the Latin words mean, but the phrase gives me a wave of unease. I’m reminded of the seriousness of my new situation…I have no idea what it really means to be a Wanderer. My stomach turns. Focus, Sera. Just think about Mom.
When we reach the top of the stairs, Mona places her thumb on a recognition pad next to the front door.
“Seriously? They make you scan your thumbprint to get in?”
“Yes, of course. We can’t allow just anyone to enter.”
The door beeps approval. Together, we push the ornate door open and enter a vestibule. We continue through another set of doors and into the main lobby.
I’m not sure why I assumed that this building’s interior would be the same as the west building’s. Maybe it seemed a reasonable expectation on my part, but I should have realized that nothing from now on would be, well…predictable.
The room opens, airy, with a high ceiling. A glass dome and elongated archway allows early morning sunlight in, making silhouettes out of every object
before us.
It’s so similar to the Galleria Umberto in Naples, Italy, that I can’t look away. Ray and I took a short weekend trip to Naples when we lived in Rome. For hours, I lingered in the shopping arcade, snapping photos of every possible architectural angle, yet never truly capturing the beauty.
I exhale, in total awe of its elegance.
Two birds playfully flutter in the dome above. They swoop to the bottom of the room then rest on two sweeping staircases. Statues of women, with baskets sitting at their feet, guard the steps that lead to several levels of arched windows and terraces.
Mona grabs my arm and pulls me forward. Our steps echo. With the acoustics, I suspect that if I whispered something to her it would easily be heard on the top floor.
Nylon wheels rolling across the floor capture my attention. Their rotation reverberates through the hollowed-out space. A silhouette of a boy on a skateboard heads toward us from a distant corner. When he kicks up his board in front of us, I recognize him immediately from Macey’s description—Quinn Hayes. She’ll be so devastated when she finds out he won’t be in biology class anymore. I hope it might help Xavier’s cause, at the very least.
“Hey, Ms. Mona.” He pushes back his blond dreads and leans on his board. It’s not like any skateboard I’ve ever seen. The three-wheel design looks like an old, funky spaceship with cogs and pipes.
“Quinn.” Mona nods her head. “How are you adjusting?”
“Dude, I mean, Ms. Mona, it’s awesome.”
“This is Seraphina, my niece.” Mona gestures to me.
“Just, Sera.” I wave my hand in an arch.
“Hey, just Sera.” His smile is brilliant against his bronzed skin, and I immediately understand Macey’s attraction. He looks back at Mona. “Gabe sent me to ask you to wait in the study. He’s running late.” Quinn points to a room on the right.
Mona thanks him. He hops on his board. With two quick shoves from his free foot, he rolls away, melding once again into a silhouette. “Later,” he yells back over his shoulder.
We sit quietly in the study for a while.
“Sorry, Gabe always feels he must make an entrance. I’m sure that’s why he is keeping us,” she explains.
“Why would he do that?”
“Doesn’t everyone love an audience?” a man announces, as he appears at the door. He laughs as he approaches Mona and gives her two air kisses. “Don’t you think, my Mona Lisa?”
“Oh, most definitely,” she says. They turn, facing me. “Gabe, this is my niece, Seraphina,” she says.
“Seraphina. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Gabe, the activities director.” He shakes my hand.
I look at Mona then back at Gabe, sizing him up. His elaborate outfit looks like something from a runway show in New York. You know, the kind of outfit where you ask yourself, “Who would ever wear such a thing?” I definitely have my answer.
“I plan parties, outings, and many other activities for the students. It’s my job to make sure everyone’s having a fabulous time,” he explains with a flip of his hand.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. You’re absolutely going to love it here. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Follow me,” he says, then bounces off around the corner.
When we catch up with him, he’s primping in a nearby mirror, crunching his light yellow curls. He swings around to face us. “Sorry, just a maintenance check.”
He clasps his hands together, signaling the beginning of our tour. “Here you see we have a beautiful indoor pool.” He gestures toward the atrium.
The glass archway from the lobby extends into a T shape behind the building. The shimmering pool sits behind a wall of glass with iron details.
Gabe’s hands flutter toward the ceiling. “This space is absolutely fabulous for parties—which, I, of course, am in charge of.” He smiles his perfect, gleaming white smile and continues, “In fact, there’s a soirée this evening for all the students to mingle. You must attend, Seraphina.” He grabs my hands in his.
“Um—definitely.” I look at Mona for permission and she nods. “Cool.”
“Now, first things first.” He looks at his watch. “You’re due to meet with the big cheese—five minutes ago.” He quickly takes off through a series of halls.
As we follow him, I’m careful to take in my surroundings. Gold nameplates mark the owners of faculty offices. We pass a glass wall with a hundred TVs behind it. Obviously, it’s some kind of security room. The word “compound” comes to mind. No matter the building’s beauty, I feel uneasy. Should I be wary of this place?
Gabe pushes through a set of carved doors at the end of the hall. Anxious, I follow closely behind.
Wander Dust Page 11
