The Source (The Mindbender Series Book 1)

by C. S Luis

  “So are you gonna tell me what happened with Johnny Boy, or what?” Alex asked. She was aching for details—I felt it—and at the same time ignoring the very fact she'd probably just ruined my chances of getting to know a very interesting guy.

  I didn't know what to tell her—or even if I should.

  “I saw him run after you,” she added. “It sure looked like you guys already know each other.”

  “You saw that?” I asked. Butterflies erupted in my stomach.

  “Yeah, and like half the cafeteria. Most of the girls can't take their eyes off him.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “So?” Alex grinned and inched closer. “Did he kiss you?”

  I blushed almost immediately. She slapped the side of my arm, and I cringed.

  “No fuckin' way! Claudia, what did I tell you? He's totally hot for you!”

  She had no idea what had really happened, but I wasn't about to correct her. What I couldn't stop wondering about was the eerie vision I'd seen when John and I had touched—him fighting the shadows and apparently protecting me. That only made it more confusing.

  “So, come on,” Alex pleaded. “What did he say? Did he ask you to prom? I've never had a friend I could nominate for prom queen, so… yeah?”

  “What?” I said stupidly, walking down the hallway toward Mrs. Witherson's classroom. Then I caught sight of Tina, Sean, and Ruben across the hall.

  Tina waved me toward them, and the guys joined in. I shook my head and pointed to my next class, and they passed us without stopping. Their inviting smiles all twisted into disapproving frowns when they saw me walking with Alex instead.

  “You could have gone,” Alex said, still hurrying to stay by my side.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “I didn't want to. They're really… odd.”

  Alex laughed. “Yeah. Especially Tina. They're never gonna talk to me again, and I couldn't care less. I get if you don't want to keep hanging out with me either, since they're still your friends.”

  “You're my friend too,” I said as we reached the far staircase on the second floor and stopped near the window overlooking the library.

  “Okay, so you never told me what dreamy Johnny said to you,” Alex reminded me. I kept moving around the corner to my next class, and we stopped just outside the door. “Well?” She jabbed her elbow into my side.

  I didn't want to tell her the truth. What could I really say that wouldn't exactly make this a lie? “I don't know what he wants,” I said. “It's weird…”

  “He did kiss you, right?” Apparently, that was the only thing that had her interest. I nodded. Alex grinned and danced around like it had happened to her. “He's gonna ask you out. Wait, did he?” I blinked at her and shook my head. “First kiss?” I shrugged—yes it was—and Alex winked. “You're gonna go out with him when he does, right?”

  “Does what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? When he asks you out. You're gonna say yes, right?”

  “I didn't really think about it,” I said. Alex just tilted her head like she wanted to say she knew I was lying. “I know what you're gonna say,” I added. “But I'm serious. I'm not expecting him to do anything, and I'm not gonna read too much into this—”

  “Too much? He chased after you to kiss you. That boy's in love.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know.”

  Alex just raised her eyebrows and laughed, and I felt ridiculous for not having come up with a better excuse for why he'd literally chased me down the halls.

  Above us, the bell rang again, and I saw Mrs. Witherson looking at me.

  “Hey, I can start picking you up for school, if you want,” Alex offered. “Make it a thing.”

  I smiled. That wasn't really the most important thing on my mind, but I didn't want to say no. “Sure, why not? You should go. You're gonna be late to class.”

  “Class?” Alex scoffed. “I've got more important things to do. See ya.” She waved, darting away in the other direction before I stepped into my next class.

  Chapter 18:

  Goth Girl

  The last bell rang before she made it to the end of the hall, which were now deserted except for Alex. She heard footsteps approaching and guessed it was the patrols; they always made their trips around this time of the day. Thomas had a new recruit by the name of Sam, who didn't seem to know what he was doing.

  But then, she thought the same of Thomas. How many times had it been now that she'd gotten caught? Last time, Thomas had sent her to Mr. Claypool's office, who'd then written her up for skipping. She had to be careful, now; two or more slips would bring her parents in for a meeting with the principal, and she couldn't afford to let that happen. The old lady she lived with had been more than generous in covering for her the last two times Mr. Claypool had threatened to call her parents.

  Alex remembered sitting in front of his desk, his face a mass of lines and wrinkles and disappointment. He had on a white shirt and black tie. Something about a man in a tie made her squirm, especially a good-looking man like Mr. Claypool, who had a soft spot for his students. He always wanted to give her a chance, no matter how many times he'd seen her in his office. That day, though, it looked like he'd been slowly regretting it.

  His blue eyes found hers. She'd smiled her best back at him; she'd often gotten away with almost anything by using that smile. Ed Harris, as she'd come to nickname Mr. Claypool, was a softie.

  “As much as I enjoy these little meetings of ours, I have to say, this is really getting to be a bad habit. What is it, the third time this week?” Mr. Claypool asked, sitting back in his chair with a new stack of detention slips. Alex cringed, biting down on her lip.

  “No, you can't count the other time,” she said, “because I wasn't skipping. I was late, and Mr. Thomas always has it out for me. I tried to explain to him that I was going to the bathroom because…” She leaned a little closer. “Well… I had girl issues. You know…”

  Mr. Claypool tried to clear his throat and blinked down at the slips. “Yes, I know. You mentioned that. But that doesn't excuse you for every other absence.”

  Alex lowered her head. “I guess not. But Mr. Claypool, I'm really trying. It's just hard to concentrate with all that's happened.” She looked up and gave him her best doe-eyed-apology face. She was good at that. Or was it just that this man was a sucker for it?

  “Oh, would you like me to talk to your mom? We can all have a sit-down and discuss this.” He moved to pick up the phone.

  “Can I just come talk to you? All I really need is someone to talk to. And you're a good listener, Mr. Claypool.” She smiled as he moved his hand away from the phone. He was a total sucker for the old damsel-in-distress routine.

  “Well, I guess that wouldn't hurt. But you must promise not to skip again. I know having to cope with your parents' divorce is hard, but you're strong, Alex, and with time, you'll be able to get past this. I know you will. And I want to see you graduate and succeed.”

  She had mentioned her parents' divorce a couple times; she'd thought it would have been worn out by now, but it was still working. Men were so easy to manipulate, especially these assistant principals. The easy part was pretending about the whole divorce and looking like a girl who didn't know her place in the world. But Alex had never been that girl.

  Now, she turned the corner in the hallway, and when the coast was clear, she raced across to the lockers near the stairwell. At first, she'd forgotten the combination; those things were so annoying. But she finally managed to open the lock and the locker, then reached far into the back. The only thing she needed was the small black pouch she withdrew before closing the locker and locking it again.

  At the end of the hall, she heard footsteps again.

  Damn Thomas and Sam.

  They were heading back; she was sure of it. If she got caught this time, it was back to Mr. Claypool's office. Or worse—Dr. Müller's.

  Alex hurried away, dashing into the dark stairwell. She thought she was safe until she heard the footsteps hur
rying behind her even up the stairs.

  “Shit.” Moving up the steps, she nearly lost her footing but managed to reach the second floor before her pursuers caught up. She raced down the hall, only to realize her error too late—the bathroom was in the other direction.

  But now Thomas was at the top of the stairs. Alex just kept going toward the balcony area leading into the ROTC classes and tennis courts. No one was outside—at least, not near the balcony. She glanced at the time on her phone.

  The ROTC students were back in class now too, and the tennis courts were empty. Alex could definitely escape via the other side of the building. Just before she reached the school's side entrance there, Thomas rounded the corner, so she doubled back and ducked around the closest corner just in time.

  Except for now, Mr. Thomas' trainee was heading in her direction. If they found her, they'd give her more trouble than she needed. Then they'd try to call her parents, and that would not go well with the old lady who was letting Alex live with her.

  The bracelet on her wrist glowed a light blue.

  “I know. I know,” she muttered.

  Sam's steps got closer, and she was sure Mr. Thomas would appear at the other entrance and spot her any moment.

  Then the final bell of the school day rang. Students poured out of the classes into the hallway. If Mr. Thomas wanted to get to her, he'd have to push his way through the hordes. Alex joined the wave of students, walking behind a huge jock and his buddies; the guy must have been well over six feet. It surprised her that he didn't yet have any facial hair.

  Mr. Thomas finally came rushing in from the other end. The crowd swallowed Alex and moved her away from her pursuers. The new trainee scanned the milling heads, but as far as Alex knew, neither he nor Mr. Thomas knew exactly who they'd been chasing in the first place.

  Alex came down the stairwell near the cafeteria; from there, it was a straight shot past the parked line of yellow buses into the parking lot, where her beat-up mustang waited. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Let's never do that again.”

  Before heading home, she stopped at the grocery store for some bread, milk, turkey, and cheese. Of course, she didn't have any intention of paying for any of it, instead stuffing the items into her backpack. This particular small store didn't have cameras, and no one ever paid her any attention. But she always bought something small—even just a pack of gum—so they wouldn't grow suspicious.

  Alex couldn't pay for her groceries even if she wanted to; she needed the last thirty dollars for gas. She made it out the front doors again without anyone stopping her, but the store owner had his eyes on her. With a wave, she hurried back to her car.

  Her house was at the end of a dead-end street; it was a modest home, older but in decent condition. When she'd first come to live here, the yard had been all but a junkpile, cluttered with the old woman's decades worth of stuff. Alex had done everything she could to make the place more homey. Beyond that, she had to earn her keep.

  When Alex opened the door, she found June planted on the couch with a cup of English Breakfast tea. The old woman was almost always there, watching her soaps and talk shows.

  “Oh, dear. When did you get in?” June asked when Alex stopped just outside the living room.

  Alex sat beside her and put a hand over hers. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I brought us some sandwiches.” The old woman smiled with sad eyes, looking completely lost. She seemed to forget who Alex was more often now. And sometimes, Alex found her staring at things, trying to remember how to use them or who the people in the pictures were that cluttered her coffee tables and mantle.

  “That's why I love you so much, Jesse.” June put a cold, wrinkled hand to Alex's cheek. “You've always been so caring.”

  Jesse was long dead; a single photo of a woman sat on the cluttered mantle a step away from them. The old woman hadn't stopped referring to Alex as Jesse. The photo was just as old as the rest of the house, and Jesse was most likely June's daughter. She had no other family, and no one else who cared—no friends to visit and no relatives to care for her.

  A single old friend had died a year earlier, and if not for Alex, June would have ended up in a home, where the old were always abandoned by their own. With the little social security coming in, the woman had barely managed to make ends meet. Alex tried her best to make the checks last for both of them, stealing when she could and skipping school to check on June as much as possible. They took care of each other. Most of the time, she skipped class to make it to her part-time job at Hot Topic for the extra money, which was also where she got most of her makeup.

  “I'll make you something to eat. Would you like some more tea?”

  The old woman smiled warmly but didn't say anything. Alex walked into the kitchen, pulled out a plate and knife, and emptied her backpack on the counter.

  “A young man came to the house today,” June said over the TV in the living room.

  “Oh?” Alex responded, busying herself with the sandwiches. Had the old woman had one of her dreams again? Sometimes, she was confused by what she saw on the TV. Or maybe a salesman had stopped by. Did people still go door to door these days?

  “He asked for Maya, but I told him he had the wrong house. Only my Jesse lives here with me.”

  Alex froze, dropping the knife on the counter. She poked her head around the corner into the living room.

  “Then he made me some tea. We chatted a bit about Roman history, and he just went on his way. He was so polite, Jesse. Such a strange man, though. Those eyes…”

  Slowly, Alex stepped out of the kitchen, unable to still her shaking hands. The old woman didn't look back at her, eyes stuck on the TV, as if she'd never said a word.

  “What did he want?” Alex asked. Her lips quivered now, too.

  “He just talked a lot about the past. Really… strange things. I don't remember.” The woman sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

  “What did he look like?” The minute she asked it, Alex regretted the question. But she had to know.

  “Oh.” June shrugged, and her eyes wandered.

  Alex knelt in front of the woman and put both hands on June's knees, blocking the TV. “This is important,” she said. “What did he look like?”

  Finally, June's glassy blue eyes settled on her. “What, dear? Who do you mean?”

  Alex rose; she knew it was no use. June's mind wasn't what it used to be when they'd first met. She walked back into the kitchen, biting on her lip. She didn't know what to do. The smartest thing would be to leave right now, but she couldn't get herself to leave the old woman alone. Who would care for her?

  “No one,” she whispered; her hands still trembled when she picked up the knife again, and she had to put it down for a moment. She wanted to cry, but she hadn't let herself do that in a long time. Alex had learned to be strong.

  Could he really have found her? Everything pointed to the fact that yes, he had. She poured water into a cup and added a tea bag.

  “Very strange man,” June repeated from the living room. “Very young. Good-looking. You would have liked him, Jesse.” That was just the way the woman worked, like turning on a light switch—one moment recalling what she'd done twenty years ago, the next minute forgetting her own name.

  Alex turned with the cup in her hand.

  “He had the strangest eyes. Unusual color, you know? Almost… purple.” June laughed. “Oh, that can't be right, dear. Purple eyes? I must have imagined that bit. But he was dressed like you, all in black. A… red patch on his shoulder. You would have liked him, Jesse, dear.”

  Alex hadn't realized she'd dropped the cup of tea until she heard it shatter at her feet. June didn't react at all, apparently back in her own world again where almost nothing could reach her. When Alex peered into the living room again, June was once again transfixed by the images on the TV, as if they were real people.

  Hurrying to the pantry, Alex got the broom and dustpan and quickly cleaned up the mess. Then she grabbed anoth
er cup from the cabinet and another teabag with hot water. She almost spilled it all over herself just walking back into the living room, and June mumbled something else she couldn't understand. This happened all the time, too, the old woman often talking to someone who wasn't really there.

  Alex placed the cup on the table next to the couch, and June glanced at the cup of tea. Then she smiled, took the cup, and blew on it before testing it with a few small sips.

  He had found her—Alex was sure of it—and she didn't know how. But he had, and now he was probably lurking, waiting for his chance to grab her. And her memories came back with full force.

  “Did you know that Romulus founded Rome?” he'd asked her. “It's said that he and his twin brother were raised by wolves. In his claim to power, he raided, abducted, and raped the village women.”

  “Just like you abducted me,” Alex had muttered.

  He'd grabbed her chin; her next words had frozen on her lips, then he'd released her and caressed her cheek. “How can I abduct my own wife? I love you.” He'd sneered at her then, and Alex had hated herself for thinking those lips had been so inviting.

  “Wife?” She'd laughed in his face. “I was never given the choice. And your passionate lovemaking is nothing more than fucking. There's no love involved.”

  He'd pulled her closer, their lips just inches apart and their bodies pressed tightly together. “Maya, we're going to have to do something about that dirty mouth of yours. And still, it's the filth coming out of that mouth that's always made me want you so much.” His grimace had made her tremble. “Admit it. You like it when I fuck you.”

  Her body had always betrayed her with him, and she'd melted in his arms, kissing him first. Her self-loathing had grown even more for falling into his trap so easily.

  Even now, in June's house, she felt him—sensed his presence, smelled him on her own skin and hair. It was all she could do to keep breathing.

  'Maya,' his voice called in her mind, 'I need you…'

  “Tell me you want me!” he'd ordered as he forced her onto his bed. She'd been under his spell just like that. Now, she wanted him again.