Finding Eden

by Camilla Beavers

  I'm completely lost in thought by the time class ends and I'm surprised when the bell rings. I collect my things and then head for home, excited about the carnival.

  The drive is quick and soon I'm in Evaughn's car, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The drive to the carnival is quick.

  “Alright,” I say, getting out of the car, “do you just want to head in and maybe grab some food or something to drink?”

  “Definitely. I think I'm going to scarf down as much cotton candy as my stomach will allow.”

  Evaughn gives me a huge grin and we walk into the carnival.

  Chapter Eight

  Evaughn is on her third helping of cotton candy when I ask her about Brock.

  “Yeah,” she licks her lips, “I'm curious too about where the heck that boy is. I mean, all he said is that he wanted to change too. Didn't think it would take him this long though.”

  “Hmm,” I frown and look at my watch. It's been nearly an hour since we've walked in and still no sign of Brock.

  “Maybe we should call him?” I suggest, “See where he is?”

  “Good idea.”

  I flip open my cell phone and quickly dial his number.

  “Hello?”

  “Where the heck are you?”

  “I just pulled up, stop worrying,” I hear him chuckle slightly.

  “Alright, we will see you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  I hang up.

  “So he's here?” Evaughn asks the obvious.

  “Yep,” I say, “want to meet him at the gate?”

  “Sure.”

  We head for the gate and wait for Brock to show up. It’s crowded so I just try to spot the spotless white button up that he usually sports both at school and away.

  “Is that Brock?” Evaughn says suddenly, pointing into the line of people.

  I look to the area that she points, but I can't see the usual attire, all I see is a familiar face. There's no white button up shirt, only a fashionable polo and some jeans on a boy that I never seen in such attire. And no glasses.

  “Holy crap,” I almost have to lift my sunglasses to do a double take, “Brock... is that you?”

  He saunters over. I didn't even know he could saunter. But he does. Brock stands in front of us and smiles. His hair. Did he gel it or something? It looks different. I don't know, more popular?

  “Took you long enough to change,” Evaughn says, “Did you have to change five times or something?”

  Brock smiles at her.

  “No, I didn't have a chance to change after the family portrait. I'd be wearing my glasses, but you know my mom. She doesn't like imperfect family photos, and glasses count under that category.”

  He looks at me and the smile shifts. His colors swirl around him in orange, pink and red, flecked with blue and green. What the heck does the new smile mean? I'm so tired that my mind doesn't feel like deciphering the colors that are around him.

  Brock says something, which I don't catch, and we begin to walk in.

  Even though the carnival wasn't advertised well, there are still plenty of people around. And even though I'm wearing my sunglasses, the colors are very bright.

  We stop by a booth that is handing out free cups of some weird new punch and we stop to decide what we're going to do. Although both Brock and Evaughn grab a cup I decide to stay away from the green tinted juice.

  “So, what have you guys done so far?” Brock sticks his free hand in his pocket.

  “Not much,” I say, “though I did watch Evaughn manage to eat five things of cotton candy.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees, “though I'm not sure if that was the best thing to do now that I think about it.”

  Brock looks at her like she's a crazy woman, which she is, but then he looks over at me and I can't see his colors. Evaughn's have gotten unnaturally bright and murky.

  “Evaughn,” I look and see black begin to swirl around her head, “the bathroom is that way.” I point to the right and she makes a run for safety.

  “Holy crap,” Brock quickly moves out of her way, “that was close. How did you know?”

  “You didn't see the look on her face?” I turn from the way Evaughn ran to look at him, “Her face was practically green.”

  “Seriously? I was looking at her the whole time.”

  “No you weren't.”

  “You're right,” he agrees, finally, and looks like he's going to blush, “I wasn't.”

  We stand there in silence until finally I see Evaughn emerge from the bathroom, her aura still dark but lightening.

  “Feeling better?” I ask and rub her back.

  “Yeah,” she says, “a little.”

  “So do you guys want to go on the Ferris wheel?” Brock asks, “It doesn't move fast or spin, and you can get plenty of fresh air.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I say and smile, hoping my optimism will affect Evaughn and help her feel better.

  “That does sound nice, but I think I'm going to sit down with my head between my knees for a few minutes. You two go on ahead,” she waves us off, plops down on a bench and promptly places her head between her knees.

  “Well,” Brock smiles, “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I loop my arm through his and we walk to the Ferris wheel. I turn and wave to Evaughn, sending good thoughts her way.

  The Ferris wheel looms over us, and surprisingly there is no line. Brock and I step up and are quickly admitted on. We get a little bucket all to ourselves and I suddenly feel very awkward toward Brock.

  “So, this is different,” I say and point out his new look.

  “Yes, well, not everyone can make the school uniform look cool,” he says while he folds his arms over his chest and props his feet up.

  “Well those people are idiots,” I say absentmindedly.

  “All of them?” Brock asks suddenly and intensely, having un-propped himself and leans forward expectantly.

  “Uh,” I don't know what to say, “yeah?”

  Brock doesn't say anything for a while; he just sits there and looks at me while his aura starts to turn green around the edges.

  “Even Sahariel?” He questions suddenly.

  That was the last thing I had ever expected to hear from Brock. I am physically taken back by the force behind the question. Then, suddenly, everything pops into place.

  The green swirling around him, the odd smile, the extra attention. How could I have been so blind?

  “Wow,” I say and look into his eyes, “I never knew. I didn't piece it together until now.”

  “You,” I pause, “you like me... don't you?”

  “You're just now noticing?” Brock looks confused.

  “I must be dense,” I admit to both Brock and myself. How had I not noticed?

  “I don't know. Maybe I just wasn't obvious enough,” Brock begins to talk to himself, “no, that can't be it. Other than following, but I don't want to seem like him.”

  I listen to him mutter, and that last bit catches my attention.

  “Him?” Who is he talking about?

  “Your little stalker boy,” he says, and then clarifies further, “your living shadow? Well, I should say your ex-living shadow.”

  “What does he have to do with this?” I ask. Both Brock and Evaughn know that he is a taboo subject.

  “Sahariel was following you around and ignoring you. And you fell for it!”

  “Fell for it? What the hell did I fall for?”

  “Him!” Brock shouts at me.

  I stumble into the back of my seat. Apparently I had been leaning forward.

  “How did I fall for him?”

  “I saw the way you looked at him, how you watched him when you thought no one was looking. Hell, even now you look like crap simply because he's not around.”

  Brock is practically yelling. His aura has changed to flashing red and green like a festive strobe light, but it brings me no joy. It only frightens me. The fear slowly builds as I remember that the Ferris wheel
has stopped and hasn't started back up and I'm teetering high above the ground in a tiny space with a jealous madman.

  The feeling of fear wells up inside of me and all I want is for him to stop.

  “Brock!” I scream at him.

  He finally shuts up.

  “I don't know what your problem is,” I glare at him, “but you know that the subject of Sahariel is off limits. I don't care how mad, frustrated or jealous you get, you have no right to say things like that. And regardless of my feelings for Sahariel, I will never see you as more than a friend. You are so blind. You need to open your eyes and see what's in front of you.”

  The Ferris wheel springs back into life and our descent to the ground is silent. Brock doesn't look at me. I have the feeling he can't. His aura has fades to a more subdued twist of red, orange and gray. He feels bad.

  Our turn ends and Evaughn is there to greet us.

  “Hey guys,” she says, “how was it?”

  Brock and I get off and stalk our separate ways, leaving Evaughn completely confused.

  “What happened?” She asks, “Brock? Eden? Is anyone going to tell me what happened?”

  “Ask Brock,” is all I say, and I walk away to go find something that's going to calm me down. I hear Evaughn as she takes my advice and runs after Brock, calling his name.

  I walk through the vendors hoping to come across a punching bag or something, but there isn't. Eventually I decide to stop and grab some curly fries, hoping that the heart clogging goodness will calm me down instead.

  Curly fries in hand, I walk to an empty picnic bench and sit down to glower. Then I hear footsteps which stop right next to me. It's Evaughn. I see the colors around her swirl menacingly and pulse with anger.

  “You know I thought,” she begins, “I thought you were different.”

  She shakes her head.

  “I thought when I first met you that a guy would never change you, even a popular one. I was so sure that you, out of all the people, would never change, would never stoop to their level. But you know what? I guess I was wrong.”

  Then she walks away. She turns her back to me and she walks away.

  “Evaughn,” I put my hand out wanting to stop her.

  “No,” she doesn't stop, “we are no longer friends.”

  Then she disappears into the crowd and I don't know what to do. I've never had a friend leave me before, at least not my real ones. I always had to leave them. I have no friends now. All I have now is a guy who follows me around like a body guard and a school full of people who think I'm a freak.

  My vision starts to blur. I feel my cheeks and they're wet. I never cry. I can't remember the last time I did. My nose begins to run and I feel pitiful. I feel my emotions start to overpower me and I know I must look like crap.

  The people around me give me odd looks, their colors slowly changing to swirling muted grays and blues. Everyone who walks past me has a sudden mood swing as their happiness takes a nose dive and they're depressed right along with me. What's going on?

  A small group of children runs passed me giggling, oblivious to me and my current state. Then they all stop. And then they all begin to cry.

  I look around myself. I can't see anything but muted, murky grays and blues swirling slowly overhead like a lazy storm. People all around me are crying tears of unknown origin.

  One of the kids plops down on the sidewalk, their cotton candy falling to the ground but gone unnoticed. Why are all these people crying?

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask myself.

  My confusion grows as I look at the people around me, all seemly very sad but not sure why.

  As my confusion grows, so does theirs. Soon the colors are just a huge swirling mass of rainbow delight that isn't that delightful. They're flashing and changing so erratically that I can't keep up. They have to order.

  People around me begin to twitch like crazy people, mumbling to themselves and giving each other odd looks. I look around myself and I begin to panic. I don't want to get hurt and I'm scared.

  “Please don't attack me,” I whisper to myself, scared.

  “Eden,” I hear someone call my name among the crazies, and somewhere deep inside myself I admit that I actually like that they're here.

  “Sahariel,” I whisper his name as he reaches out for me.

  He holds me then, his arms forming a protective circle around me. Fear and confusion tamper with my senses as I shiver and shudder in his arms.

  “Shit,” I hear him say, his body moving as he looks around, “I wish they would have told me this could have happened.”

  A small part of me wonders what he's talking about, but the majority of my consciousness is just thankful that he's here, holding me, keeping me safe. The world then disappears from beneath my feet and a slight breeze is blowing through my hair. Then and quickly as the ground disappeared, it's back underneath me.

  As soon as he sets me down I look around. Carnival goers and food stands are replaced with trees, the busy streets replaced with rolling hills of green grass and wildflowers.

  “Where the hell are we?” I ask as I look around.

  “In a park a few miles away from the carnival. See,” he points east, “there's the carnival.”

  I look where he's pointing, the carnival seeming so small at such a distance.

  “How did we get here?”

  “I ran.”

  “And you carried me the whole way?”

  “You're not very heavy.”

  “Okay, then how did we get here so quickly?”

  “Well, one, I run fast and two, you're extremely unobservant,” he counts the points down on his fingers.

  “You realize I don't believe a word you just said, right?” I stare at him, my hands on my hips. I watch as the look in his eyes changes, there's this sort of I-give-up look in his eyes, but he's happy about it.

  “You don't, do you?” His voice is soft as he asks.

  “Nope,” I shake my head.

  He doesn't say or do anything for a long time. He just looks at me, and his eyes dart down to where the collar of my shirt has slipped, the raised edge of my scar showing. He looks sad when he sees it.

  “I follow you around at school because it is my duty,” he says.

  “Your duty?” How did we get on the subject of school?

  “Yes.”

  “So, you've given yourself the job of being my personal stalker.”

  “No, I'm not stalking you,” he says, exasperation in his voice, “I'm protecting you.”

  “Protecting me? From what?”

  “Hell if I know anymore. Yourself it seems.” He throws his hands up in the air.

  “Yeah,” I say, “about that. You seem to know a lot more about what just happened than I do.”

  “You know,” I decide to expand on the subject a little, “none of this happened until you showed up. Until then I was the freak girl with two best friends. Now I'm the freak girl with no friends and a guy who's following me around who claims it's his job to do so. A guy who I get so frustrated with that I never want to see again, but feel so god damn connected to that I feel his presence across the room. There's a lot of weird shit that's happened in my life,” I look at him and shake my head, “but you showing up, mister-no-colors, really have made it worse.”

  All he does then is look at me. I don't know if he is shocked or horrified. Probably a little bit of both, but without the colors I'm clueless as to what he's thinking. Finally, after a few minutes, he blinks and looks at me again.

  I pace around for a second. I don't know what to do with him.

  “You know,” I say finally, turning to him, “I don't particularly enjoy being mocked.”

  “I'm not mocking you,” he says defensively.

  “Right,” I put my hand on my hip, “first you act like you're going to tell me what's going on, and then you only tell me things that lead to more questions!”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “If that's true, then tell me what's g
oing on.”

  “Okay,” he puts his hands up in a calming manner, “okay, just give me a second.”

  He takes a deep breath.

  “Where do I start?”

  “At the beginning, maybe?” I say sarcastically.

  “Okay, well,” he takes a deep breath again, “Why am I here? Simply put, I'm here to protect you. It's my job as your bodyguard to keep you safe. As part of the royal guard, it's my job to help protect the royal family.”

  “The royal-” I try to get the question out, but he stops me.

  “Stop. I told you I'd tell you what's going on. Any questions you have I can answer after I'm done.”

  “As far as the 'colors' you're talking about, it's a natural thing that you're seeing them. Most, if not all, elves have them. It's how emotion is communicated. The fact that you are of royal decent is the main reason why I don't have any colors to be seen. In the elf world you'll help influence how your subjects feel. Make them feel hope when they once thought all was lost. Since you cannot see my emotions, you cannot control them. How can I protect you if I'm constantly being influenced by your emotions?”

  My brows raise in a questioning look.

  “That's a rhetorical question,” he pauses for a second or two, “I'm not trying to mock you, Eden,” he steps forward and puts his hands on my shoulders, “I'm only trying to protect you.”

  I stare at him. I don't know what else to do. How he could have come up with a story that elaborate in that short amount of time is amazing, but I don't believe it.

  “Oh, that's rich,” I say with no enthusiasm, “I can't believe you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Just... wow.”

  I shake my head and look around. I spot the carnival in the distance. I don't know how I managed to get in this situation, but I wanted out of it, and quick. I take one last look at Sahariel, turn my back on him, and walk away.

  Chapter Nine

  I walk home and I can't help but think about what Sahariel said. An elf? How could I be an elf? And a queen at that. Also, shouldn't you be a princess before you're a queen or is that just me?

  To be a creature of myth would definitely explain the colors. But my mother is dead and dad is obviously human. Can't elves avoid dying somehow? I mean, aren't they super-fast, super strong or just plain immortal?