by Tiffiny Hall
Suddenly the memory of the waterfall at Samurai Falls surges inside me again. Wind whisks the hurt, stones crush my heart, fire from the Serpent Sword sears my skeleton. The elements collide within me, carrying with them all the danger and uncertainty of being the White Warrior. I leap up onto Elecktra’s bed. My fingers spark fire from the nails.
‘I want to know more about my father,’ I demand.
Mum jumps to her feet with her guard up. Art languishes behind Elecktra’s covers.
‘He is cursed. Poisoned,’ Mum says. ‘The less you know about him, the more protected you will be.’ Her voice commands, yet her mouth quivers, a memory of his touch perhaps, a nerve of pain. She bites down hard on her lip.
‘I deserve to know. He could help us figure all this out,’ I say, swirling my fire fingers through the air and smoking up the room. The glass of water floats up to my face. I look down at Elecktra, who is cross-eyed. The water tips onto my hands and extinguishes my fingers.
‘The paint!’ Art yells, gaping up at the smoke from under Elecktra’s marshmallow-pink doona. The smoke has puckered the ceiling and his mural of plump rosy cherubs holding nunchucks. The mural has been there since Elecktra was four years old. He’ll have to make one of the cherubs hold a samurai sword now.
‘Don’t you dare ever light up in this house again, Roxy Ran,’ Mum scolds.
‘Or what?’ I say. ‘I’m the most powerful one in the room. If you’re not going to tell me more about my father, I’ll do whatever I want.’
Pain paints my mother’s face as thick as plaster. ‘First blackmail demand. You really are turning fourteen,’ she says, then looks at Art. His brows nod at her. They silently converse as they always do in just one look. ‘You live under my roof, so you will do as you are told. Both of you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier about Lecky’s …’ she searches for the right word, ‘past.’ She drags in a deep breath for courage. ‘But you know it’s complicated. I love you both very much and want to do the best by you. Help you to discover who you are on your own. We can make this work. You don’t need the pain your father has caused in your life, Roxy. People will get hurt.’
I’m already hurting. What’s he done that’s so bad? He’s just a guy. A ninja guy who met Mum and fell in love, had me. Did he know Mum was with a samurai before? Was the samurai his enemy? Maybe they had a fight. But wouldn’t they make up? And anyway, it’s all in the past.
‘Why would he disappear for thirteen years?’ I ask, folding my legs under me and sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Mum shakes her head and holds out her hand to Art. ‘I’m tired,’ she says. ‘Pizza for dinner?’
Art bounds out of bed and takes her hand. ‘Pizza!’ he sings.
‘I’m not that tired.’ Mum sighs at him. ‘No way are we having the greasy kind that comes in a cardboard box.’
His face drops, though he does really like her home-made pizza with a spelt pita bread base and zucchini and lentil toppings. He follows her out the door.
Elecktra bats her sooty eyelashes at me. ‘So …?’
‘So what?’ I ask.
‘Forget the dad stuff, you have to spill! Did he kiss you?’
‘Who?’
‘Don’t play dumb with me. I’m queen of that game. You know exactly who I’m talking about. I may have been possessed, but I wasn’t concussed. I know post-kissing face when I see it. Details pulease,’ she drills.
I don’t have to say anything; the blood creeping into my cheeks divulges everything.
‘You did, you did, you did!’ Elecktra shouts, shooting her knees up to her chest and launching herself into a standing position on the bed. ‘Was it a three-seconder or a five-seconder? Did he kiss you or you kiss him? Or was it a mutual lean-in? Is he a good kisser? I’m getting you Facebook for your birthday coz you’ve got to update everyone on this. You just kissed the hottest boy in school! Jackson Axe!’ She dances on the bed, her wounded chest momentarily forgotten.
‘I’m not telling anyone. And it was mutual. Eight seconds to be exact,’ I say, feeling quite proud of myself. I kissed the hottest guy in school. We kissed each other. I float back to that moment in the emerald bubble where our mouths met. Jackson tasted like mint. I really want to kiss him again.
Elecktra slides back into bed and yelps as I help her to ease under the covers again. I warm my hands with my powers, then hold my palms over her chest to heat the blankets. She smiles soothingly and says, ‘You ninjas are so secretive.’
My thoughts march back to my father. It kills me that Mum won’t explain. I’ve searched the house countless times for a clue, but Mum keeps our history as clean and spotless as the kitchen, no crumb of our past left out to rot. It’s as if the crumbs will lead us, Hansel and Gretel style, towards a witch or a monster.
‘Don’t you ever want to know more about your dad? Or my dad?’ I ask Lecky.
She turns her head to me, enveloping half her face in the pillow. Her eye rolls a full sparkly brown circuit. ‘Who wants more family? Easter egg hunts that turn into sword fights. More lectures. More rules. I have one dad. That’s enough.’
I guess she’s right. Art has been the father to us for as long as I can remember, but he doesn’t have powers, he can’t explain what I’m going through. He can’t change the past or the future. But maybe my father can.
‘I really want to know about my dad. I feel like I need to know where I came from,’ I tell Lecky.
‘Why?’
‘To know where I’m going, what I should do next.’
‘You’re going to be fine. Why can’t you just relax and enjoy being powerful and awesome?’ she huffs.
‘Look what happened. I hurt you. And you couldn’t control yourself. You went bat crazy in that cave at Samurai Falls, in case you’ve forgotten,’ I remind her.
Elecktra shrugs. ‘But you saved me. Your powers can’t be all that bad.’
Are powers bad? I need to find my father, to ask him why I have these powers, why I was chosen, why he disappeared from my life and Mum fled her home, her clan, her past.
Trust Elecktra to be optimistic. She always sees the positive side of life. Like that time we flew economy class and Elecktra made it feel like business class. She boarded the plane in her favourite cheese-coloured coat and oversized sunglasses, then squished into the economy seat and squashed her handbag under the chair in front. The business seats we had walked past looked like private living rooms compared with the cattle class up the back.
‘There, who needs business class?’ Lecky said. ‘Window seat, a working reclining chair, bring your own socks, clean seat pocket without an empty cheese and biscuit tray — I really feel like we’ve made it. This is just like being in business class, but without the annoying fussing of the flight attendants.’ Then she turned to me and said, ‘Did you see that blonde in the first seat? She was wearing a fake bun that was a different shade of blonde to the rest of her.’ Lecky lowered her sunglasses and arched an eyebrow. ‘You can’t buy class, Roxy.’ For Elecktra, flying business class, like flying luxuriously through the rest of life, is a state of mind.
‘Are you excited about your birthday party? I still wish you’d let me style the event,’ she says.
‘I promised Cinnamon she could organise the party. It’s only small,’ I say, flushing to think of how big Elecktra’s parties have been in comparison with my sober little bash. This will be my first birthday party with friends. The big one four. Cinnamon has booked a party room at Bounce Nation.
‘Heard there’s trampolines on the walls,’ Elecktra says.
‘Everywhere,’ I tell her. Elecktra’s eyes glimmer, brown leaves basking in a bubbling brook. ‘Don’t you dare,’ I warn her, seeing her levitate and somersault in my mind while everyone else watches in awe.
‘Rox, a few flips are harmless,’ she argues. ‘Your boyfriend coming?’
I go pink at the word ‘boyfriend’. Is he my boyfriend? Does one kiss qualify for GF, BF status? I was kind of hoping that we’d g
o to the movies for my birthday, so I could try to kiss Jackson again, or be held by him for ninety minutes straight. But Cinnamon is still on her health kick and everything has to be active these days. The party food will be vegie sticks and hummus, I bet.
‘I wish my father could come,’ I say.
‘Art said he’d come if you want.’
‘No, my real dad.’
‘Stop living in the past,’ Lecky orders. ‘It’ll give you wrinkles. There’s no point to all this dad stuff. You are the White Warrior, just accept it. Accept yourself for once.’
Accept myself? I’d have to know myself first and how can I know who I am, if I have no idea who my real father is?
‘Do you think Art will ever marry Mum?’ Lecky asks.
I shrug. ‘If he can decide on a proposal.’
She laughs. ‘Yeah, there was the flash mob idea — she’d hate that — and the romantic walk on the beach. Oh, do you remember he was going to try to become the Lanternwood weatherman so he could pop the question on TV — say something like “you are my sunshine”? Told him that sucked. Too corny.’
‘And when we went to FunEscape Park that time and swam with the dolphins? I really thought he was going to let the dolphin propose with the ring in its mouth. Or the Proposal Dress we were helping him make? Remember he wanted to make the dress out of 9,999 red roses because the number nine in China means forever and Mum loves roses? But he only made one sleeve of the dress and chickened out. Maybe he knows she’s not the marrying kind.’
Elecktra twists her mouth to the side. ‘There’s someone for everyone. Even Mickey Mouse married Minnie Mouse.’
‘They’re cartoons.’
‘Nah, the people who did the cartoon voices — they got hitched! Everyone finds their otter,’ she retorts.
‘Otter? What the heck are you talking about? Are you still concussed?’
‘Otters float in the water holding paws so they don’t lose each other downstream,’ she informs me.
‘No way! That’s too cute.’
‘Yes way.’ Elecktra flips open her laptop on her knees and quickly googles otters holding hands. The cuteness makes me gasp.
‘That is adorable,’ I say.
‘Yup. It’s my favourite thing in the world, at the moment. You see? Everyone finds someone to hold hands with. Mum and Art are made for each other. He just has to find the guts to ask the question.’
I can’t take my eyes off the floating otters holding paws. One otter loses its grip and swims panicked back to its mate. They link paws again and resume floating on their backs, side by side down the river.
THREE
‘Facial time!’ Lecky announces, wriggling out from under the covers.
‘Rest,’ I tell her. It’s Sunday evening and I’ve been looking after Lecky all weekend. Cinnamon had wanted me to go to the pet shop with her to visit the new puppies, but I thought we both needed to recover from the cave adventure.
‘I’m boiling,’ Lecky says and slips out of her dream-pink dressing gown.
I gasp. ‘Hey! Is that my ninja top?’
Elecktra quickly wraps herself back up in her dressing gown. ‘It’s comfy, like pyjamas,’ she says, then adds, ‘You shouldn’t leave your doorknob on the door. Anyone could burgle your room, you know.’ Lecky has her own personal security system — she carries her doorknob in her handbag whenever she leaves our two-storey apartment.
‘You shouldn’t break into my room! You’ve wrecked my uniform!’ A monstrous anger seizes me by the scruff.
‘I’ve improved it,’ she says calmly. ‘Added some sequins here, some ruffles there, a bit of glitter art, feathers. It’s far more samurai chic now.’
I gape. ‘You’ve totally destroyed it. It’s my special ninja uniform!’ Blood rushes to my head. My heart prickles. ‘You’re stretching it!’
Suddenly I lose control. My sister’s pheromones, her shadowy samurai aura, her essence make me furious. A fury that summons my powers without consent. Wind flies into the room and storms Elecktra’s magazines, bed sheets, clothes and shoes into a tornado of splashy colour.
‘Cat fight!’ Elecktra yells and levitates to the ceiling. She crosses her eyes and pushes her things back to the ground in a heap. ‘You’re hurting my room!’
‘Take it off!’ I scream. My anger seethes as Elecktra twirls in the air and hugs herself in my ruined ninja top.
‘You wouldn’t know fashion if it stabbed you in the eye with a katana sword,’ she says.
‘And you do? You convinced me those loose hanging harem pants thingies were in, and when I wore them Cinnamon said it looked like I’d pooed my pants!’
Elecktra twirls again, modelling her new creation. ‘They are pyjama rad and comfortable, true?’ She smiles.
‘True,’ I agree, forgetting myself, then snap out of it. ‘Hey, I earned that uniform! Take it off!’
She continues to ignore me.
‘That’s it!’ I stare at the wall, focus my anger and the wall begins to crack, tearing apart her pop-star posters.
‘You’re breaking my wall!’ Elecktra shrieks and drops to the floor. She runs to the wall and spreads her hands across it like a spider trying to save a web. She flicks her head towards me fiercely, then charges. She pushes me backwards and shoots up in the air, levitating to watch the show. I trip on a pile of coat hangers and fall and hit my head. My ponytail spins to the side. I leap to my feet, then grab Elecktra’s huge pink teddy she won at the Easter Show and throw it towards her head. She ducks and something hits me in the back of the neck. I spin and see a candle drop to the ground. Suddenly more candles fly towards me. I weave, swiping and kicking the candles out of the way, the wax shattering like glass. How many scented candles does one girl need?
‘It’s all your fault. You should never have picked up the Serpent Sword,’ I say.
‘You should never have swallowed the Tiger Scrolls,’ she spits back.
‘You’re not coming to my party any more!’
‘I don’t want to come to any party I’m not styling!’
‘I promised Cinnamon.’
‘Cinnamon’s fat — what would she know about style?’ Elecktra retorts.
‘Take that back!’ She’s gone way too far now. I can’t believe she’s insulting my best friend when Cinnamon risked her life to save her. Without thinking, a bookend in the shape of a blossom tree flies up in the wind and hits Elecktra in the face. She falls out of the air onto the floor, clutching her eye. When she looks up, a pouch of skin under her left eye has puckered, as if someone has pulled a thread in a swath of satin.
‘My face!’ Elecktra howls. ‘The school dance is in a week!’
‘Cinnamon isn’t fat any more,’ I say. ‘Take it back!’
‘She’s a little bit fat.’
I ice her lips shut. She tries to speak, but her lips are sealed blue. Her good eye bulges and moves towards her scrunched nose, then a whir of magazines, make-up brushes, jewellery stands, handbags and shoes attacks me. I pick up Elecktra’s music stand and swipe the items away as if the stand were a sword. I twirl with my makeshift weapon and smash her bedside ladybug lamp into a thousand ruby glass pieces, then kick away the necklaces flying through the air like nunchuck chains and bat away her make-up compacts darting towards me like ninja stars.
‘What’s going on?!’ Mum barges into the room, witnessing Elecktra’s things flying at me and the wind whirling her clothes around the ceiling like a rainbow caught in a drain.
‘She’s wearing my ninja top!’ I yell.
Elecktra rubs her lips vigorously, melting the ice, then shouts, ‘She trashed my room!’
‘Roxy, what have you done to her face?’ Mum asks.
‘My face!’ Elecktra scurries to dig for a mirror in the pile of things heaped on the floor (her dressing-table mirror has been smashed). She finds a compact mirror, flips it open, then wails, ‘I’m ruined!’
‘Just like my top,’ I snap.
Art enters cautiously and rests a hand on
Akita’s shoulder. He is wearing a shirt with parrots on it. He’s a birder from way back. Growing up, while his twin brother was six foot, captain of the hockey team, and won a contest for collecting the most chicks’ phone numbers in the school holidays, Art was five foot three inches, not shaving, and saving up for a blue and gold macaw. Fair enough; his pineapple conure, Charlie Tango, needed a friend.
‘This was bound to happen,’ Art says.
Mum shakes her head. ‘No, they have to learn to live with each other.’
‘I hate living with her!’ Elecktra shrieks.
‘I hate living with you too!’ I yell. ‘I hate Lanternwood! I hate my powers! I don’t want to be a part of any of this. I just want to be normal. Maybe if Mum told me where I could find my father, I could go and live with him!’
The hurt slams Mum. I see how it spurs her heart and yet I can’t control my words any less than I can control my powers around Elecktra.
Art pushes past Mum. ‘That’s enough, Roxy,’ he says, his tone arctic for the first time ever.
‘You’re not my real dad. You don’t get to tell me what’s enough. Elecktra gets away with murder and all I ever do is be the responsible one. I’m sick of it!’ I turn back to her. ‘Take off my top!’ I thunder and the roof begins to rain down on us, wetting Art’s hurt face. The rain pelts heavier, until it turns cyclonic.
Elecktra slowly takes off my black ninja top and throws the heavy wet ball at me. Her mascara runs down her cheeks in two black stripes. I flap my ninja top open against my knees and put it on. The jacket instantly turns white, some of the sequins falling off. I watch a feather drip away. The ceiling stops raining.
‘You’re grounded,’ Mum murmurs through her soaked hair, ankle-deep in water.
‘I’m not talking to you until you tell me about my dad anyway,’ I say and walk out of Elecktra’s soggy bedroom.
FOUR
‘Why isn’t Elecktra talking to me?’ Cinnamon hugs my arm as we walk to school on Monday morning. Rescue pads in front of us on a lead. While she’s on a fitness kick, so is he.
