by Pixie James
How different could my life have been if I had of been raised with these people? Anger stirs in my gut, undeserved, but there none the less, for the people who chose this path for me. How long would I have lived feeling like an outsider if mother nature hadn’t tried to zap me into oblivion?
The door creaks again, and Tia scrapes her feet across the floor. I can tell by the change in her gait she’s exhausted. Probably from having to exist near Ki’Lin and not clobber her while all the student elects planned Friday’s celebration. Even the thought of all that attention makes me want to hide in my closet.
“Cherise…you awake?” she whispers, but I keep my cheek to the pillow and pretend to be asleep. I don’t want to cry anymore, and if I start talking again, that’s all I’m going to do. The corner of my bed dips, and Huey groans at his space being invaded. “I know you’re asleep, but I just wanted you to know I’m sorry about today. Sorry, I didn’t cut Ki’Lin off sooner. You’re the best friend I’ve had in a long time and…well…I’m just really glad I met you.”
The bed squeaks as she gets up and climbs into her own, not even bothering to get undressed. Feeling a fresh wave of tears creeping up, I seek out Huey’s regala, letting our connection lull me to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be better. It has to.
“He’s ready for you now, dear.”
The sweet voice of Te’Bec, Headmaster Ha’Jahn’s elderly secretary, shakes me out of my daze and I jump to my feet, heart pounding. I re-took that stupid history test again first thing this morning, and he just pulled me out of my algebra class to give me the results. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever.
If I don’t pass this…
Nearly tripping over my own feet, I stumble into the room, smacking against a wooden pedestal near the door. Te’Bec launches herself forward and catches the priceless piece of Xebulin art, or whatever it is, that’s hurtling toward the floor.
Damn, granny’s got moves.
“Oh, my gosh…I’m so sorry.”
Te’Bec gracefully climbs to her feet, not a single silver-blue hair out of place, and glides back toward the door. “That’s quite all right, dear. Just steer clear of the high shelves, those items…cannot be replaced so easily.”
I wave awkwardly and scurry over toward my very amused looking headmaster. “I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz.” Still too anxious to sit, I pace back and forth in front of his desk. Gah, if he makes me wait any longer, I’m going to get the nervous poops and have to leave. He needs to spit it out already.
“Well, how do you think you did?”
I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “Okay, I guess?”
He grins and opens the file on his desk. “You did better than okay, Cherise. You passed with flying colors!” He claps and stands. “You can officially transition to the advanced history class. You’ll still be behind and in need of additional tutoring, but you can now learn the more pertinent information that you will need to know for the end of year exams. Here, let me go snag an updated schedule from Te’Bec…”
He crosses his office in six long strides, and as soon as his back is turned, I swing my arms wildly through the air and jump for joy. Finally, something goes my way! Giving the air one last fist pump, I lose my balance and fall backward into Ha’Jahn’s shelf, knocking the clear jar of silver alien goo onto the floor. The lid pops off and a small silver drop snakes out, curling and reaching for me.
Crap. Crap. Crap. The one shelf she asked me not to disturb.
Panic tightens my throat as the sound of the headmaster’s polite thank you floats through the air, and I do the only thing I can, scoop up the silver goo, replace the lid and slap that sucker back on the top shelf as quickly as possible.
Sweat dots my forehead, and I’m trying not to pant as he reappears through the door. I eye the jar, noticing it’s about two inches from its original place, and another deep swell of panic threatens to send me into all out hysterics.
The smile drops off Headmaster Ha’Jahn’s face. “Cherise? What happened?”
Oh, crap. I’ve been caught. It also doesn’t escape me that I totally could have just died, but at the moment I’m more worried about getting in trouble for messing with his stuff. “I’m sorry, I—” Struggling to find a sufficient explanation, I turn back around and face the shelf and nearly choke. The jar is no longer sitting all catawampus on the shelf, but in the exact same place as it was before. All evidence of my collision—the other items I’d managed to jostle around—is gone and they’re right where they’re meant to be.
What is going on? Have I lost my mind?
“You seem very upset. Are you feeling ill?”
“Nope. I’m fine. Sorry, still just anxious.” Holy crap, I’m such a terrible liar.
He holds out the new schedule and slides back into his desk chair. “Your condensed history class will be replaced with advanced Xebulin history and your free period will now transition to the intermediate siphoning class.
“We tried to give you at least one small break, but unfortunately there are no more classes this year for introduction to siphoning so you’ll just have to catch up with the rest of your class.”
Great. More stuff I have to learn. Awesome, can’t wait.
He looks at his watch. “Oh, well you better get back to your class and don’t forget, your next period history class is now in the west wing so you’ll have to hurry to make it on time. You won’t want to be late!”
Chapter Twelve
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Tonight’s the night!” Tia’s ear-splitting voice penetrates the makeshift blanket barrier I have wrapped around my head, and I tighten my grip.
I refuse to get up and acknowledge what I have to do today. All the people. The party in my honor. Having to watch Ki’Lin walk around like royalty draped over Ty’Nix’s arm while I’m wearing a dress I pulled out of the lost and found.
Nope. Not happening.
She pulls at the covers, trying to force me out of bed, but I hunker down.” No! Go away.”
“Oh, come on! It’s going to be fun. Plus, you have to meet Ty’Nix this morning before class to squeeze in your memory extraction lesson since you’ll be shopping all afternoon!”
Wait, what?
I yank the covers down and eye her.
“That’s right. I talked to Te’Lara, and Headmaster Ha’Jahn got additional funding approved from the consulate. After all, if they’re going to force you to go to a party you don’t even want, the least they can do is buy you a fancy dress.”
“You’re serious?”
She grins and nods—the Princess Leia buns secured to the sides of her head temporarily blocking the overhead light.
“Sounds nice, but you do know Ty’Nix isn’t going to reschedule for me. He barely shows up as it is. We’ve had like three study sessions, and I’ve literally learned nothing other than what I’ve read in my book.”
“Yeah about that…” Tia gets up and walks toward the window. “I know you didn’t want me to say anything, but I kind of reported him to Ha’Jahn. He’s really screwing you, Cherise, and I know you want to fly under the radar, but it’s bull. He might be exceptionally nice to look at, but that’s not an excuse to be an inconsiderate jerk.”
“Oh, Tia. You didn’t…”
The dread I felt when I woke is nothing compared to the lung-seizing anxiety now creeping in. If he was rude and standoffish before, how’s he going to be now? And what if Ki’Lin finds out? What if the entire school does and I spend the rest of my time here labeled as a narc?
“Please, don’t be mad. It’s just…we’ve tried every night since I moved in here to get you even remotely close to where you need to be and it hasn’t done a bit of good. All you see is gray. I suck at trying to explain it and you shouldn’t suffer because I’m a crappy teacher.”
I need to tell her the truth about the pee thing and that the reason every session we’ve had has been a massive fail is because I haven’t really tried at all. I was counting o
n Ty’Nix to do his part, but it’s obvious he won’t, and that leaves me with little to work with.
I sit up and rub my eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep. Ugh, please don’t let her hate me. “Listen, you’re a great teacher. The truth is…the thing that’s holding me back is—"
Tia looks down at her watch. “The time! That’s what’s holding you back. Get your flipping clothes on, Cherise. You have ten minutes to get halfway across campus! I’ll meet you near the gardens after class. Go, go, go!”
Not bothering to look in the mirror, I shove my legs into my pants, throw on a shirt, and fly toward the gym. Huey jogs beside me, completely unfazed, and I give him a dirty look. I’m panting, and he’s trotting along like he’s out for a pleasant evening at the beach.
At the double doors without a second to spare, I slap my palm against the scanner and give Huey’s ears a scratch before plowing through. Ty’Nix is there, sitting on the bleachers, but something’s up.
Normally, he’d jerk his head up in an unimpressed way and pin me with his beautiful, judgmental eyes. Then give me some completely useless task to do, all the while remaining at least three feet away like I have the plague. But not today. Today he just looks…tired.
His black hair is the picture of perfection, preserved with every strand in place like a piece of art, but his eyes… He’s exhausted. Deep blue bags puff out from under his lids, and the typical stern set of his jaw is relaxed. Instead of his usual jeans and t-shirt, he’s dressed head-to-toe in business casual—dark black slacks, heather gray button up, and a black tie to match.
The cerulean hue of his skin meshes with the tones of his shirt in the nicest way, and he just might be the handsomest grouch I’ve ever seen. It’s a good thing he’s not pleasant to be around. If he were, I might not ever stop thinking about him…
My inner voice scoffs. Like you do now…
He lifts his gaze off the silver case in front of him to meet mine and, again, I’m struck by just how defeated he looks.
“Hey, come sit down. We need to talk and we don’t have much time.”
Of course, we don’t. He never does.
When I sit down one row below him, I catch sight of my rumpled shirt and realize I look like a total slob. Rushing to straighten it at first, I give up a after a few unsuccessful tries. Whatever. It’s not like he’s going to notice. He’s too busy checking his phone.
“Look…” I start, trying to find something even remotely helpful to say.
He sucks in a deep breath and blurts out, “I’m sorry.”
A sliver of the warmth and comfort I spent hours waiting in the window for the other night snakes its way through my bones. I guess it wasn’t the sky after all, just me being a complete weirdo.
“For what?” It might be petty but after the crap he’s put me through I want to hear him say it.
“I spoke with Headmaster Ha’Jahn. He wasn’t pleased at your progress and let slip the ramifications of your failing. I had no idea they were so severe. They’re really going to detain you if you can’t pass? That’s insane. I figured they’d let you take the remedial courses they offer on occasion to special cases—"
“Yeah, not exactly.”
He swipes a hand through his hair, disrupting the perfection. A few strands hang down in his eyes and it’s hard not to stare. “Like I said, sorry.”
“Are you…feeling okay? You’re being nice and haven’t insulted me yet…it’s scary.”
He chuckles, “Yeah. Don’t get used to it all right? I was up all night getting ready. As the student alliance president I’m responsible for the opening and closing speeches of any school-related celebrations. Speaking in front of a crowd isn’t really my thing.” He gives me a small smile and, even muted, it’s beautiful. Good gracious, he’s handsome.
Focus, Cherise, he’s a brat in rich kid clothing.
I snort. “Aren’t you like slated for the throne or something?”
Whatever tiny sliver of light he held in his eyes is smothered by a healthy dose of irritation, and his features tighten. Well, that didn’t last long. Lugging up the mini suitcase he brought, he presses a button the side and holds it up level with his eyes. A red light scans his face and then the locks click.
“Um, what is that exactly?”
He opens the case and retrieves a thin pair of silver elbow-length gloves. They look almost like they’re made out of a rubberish material, but as he rolls them over his skin, they blend completely. “These are what will help us cut through all the bullshit.” He holds out his hand and spreads his fingers, admiring them, then looks to me. “Neuris gloves. They’re an extremely expensive training tool purchased from the Xebulani Enforcers. There are only twenty pairs on Earth.”
“Are those the things they use for the end of the year touch games? Tia said they were all being programmed in preparation for it and wouldn’t be available for us to use since it’s only a few weeks away.”
“They are, and they weren’t. I borrowed these from a friend.”
I cock my head to the side. What he said doesn’t ring true. He’s lying about something. “Borrowed?”
“Do you want to learn how to do this or not?” he snarls, then rubs the back of his neck. “Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Things are just…never mind. Let’s get on with this.”
“Can’t wait.”
He ignores my sarcasm-laced retort and moves the box to the side and secures his rolled up sleeves. “All right. Because I obtained these on a whim, the memories embedded in them are old and may not read as they are supposed to. They haven’t been calibrated in over a year.“
He loosens his tie and squares up to me. “I know I usually go into how you need to meditate, clear your mind, warm up the sensors on your hands by rubbing them together and all that other textbook crap, but we don’t have time for that. If you’re really going to learn this, like really learn it and be successful in a short amount of time, we’ve got to throw you into it. This is the best way.
“I want you to think of a memory. Something that really upsets you or makes you really happy—whichever. Just something that will get your emotions to rise. When you’re ready, touch the glove and try to rip the memories inside of it out—hard—then call out what you see as you see it. It won’t hurt me, and it won’t break the glove. But It might be the thing you need to give you a jump start. This is a crash course, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll go back to the other way, okay?”
“No offense, but the other way was useless. If this doesn’t work, I’m gone. I’ll find someone else.”
He narrows his eyes. “What’s your problem? I’m trying to help you now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, after you jerked me around and wasted my time for the last week and a half. I’ve spent every single free second I’ve had studying, trying my best to learn all the crap you’ve had your entire life to master, just so I can take a bunch of tests to get me in the classes you’re already in. I have to work four times as hard as everyone else and I don’t need some elitist jerk spending the only free time I have making me feel like crap.”
His jaw strains and he curses under his breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel like crap—”
I jump to my feet, infuriated he’s trying to lie. He’s intentionally been a condescending dingleberry this entire time, giving me the side eye, blowing off our sessions, and answering every question I have for him with “it’s in the book. If you don’t know, read more.”
“Stop lying to me. Just stop. I know you can’t stand me, but you need to get the hell over it. I’m not going anywhere. Even if I had a place to go, which I don’t, they won’t let me leave!”
Ty’Nix starts throwing his stuff into his bag and jerks my book off the bench beside me.
“Stop. That’s mine. What are you doing?” I reach for the book, and he pulls it farther away.
“You want someone else? Fine. Go find someone else, I’m out of here,” he huffs.
“At least give me back the
book—” I reach for it and again and he jerks his bag out of my grip.
“Since you’re so eager to find my replacement, snag one of those while you’re at it. I’m gone.”
“Like hell you are—”
Reaching out, I wrap my hand around his arm to force him to a stop, and when my skin connects with the glove, a cacophony of images and feelings flood my mind. A red house on a hill. A brown dog with a yellow ball. A square window. The sting of a thin metal rod smacking across the small of a child’s back. The dull ache of a fist-sized bruise. Pain. Anger. Fear. Loneliness. All flood into me at once and I can’t take it. It’s overwhelming, all encompassing…
I rip my hand off his arm and stumble over the lowest row of bleachers and sink onto my butt. Ty’Nix is wide eyed and pale, concern and confusion furrowing his brow. “Cherise…”
He says something else, but I can’t make out the words over the whoosh of my heartbeat in my ears.
“Who put those images there? What kind of person…? Why would you make me see that?” I breathe in and out, trying to control the panic.
“What did you see?” he asks with a rough voice, rubbing his chest. I shake my head, unable to form the words, but he continues to ask. “I don’t know what you did but that wasn’t supposed to happen. Whatever that was…”
“Was messed up.” I pull my knees to my chest.
“What did you see?” he asks again, his voice lower than before. “Whatever it was…that was a long time ago.”
My gut pitches. The panic swimming in his eyes, the steady beat of his heart pounding in the vein that runs along his temple, those memories were his. They have to be. Someone hurt him, badly, and there’s no doubt if I tell him what I really saw, he’ll never talk to me again.
“Red house, brown dog, yellow ball. That’s it. The rest…it doesn’t matter.” My eyes search his, silently pleading for him to understand what I’m getting at.
