Phoenix: The Rising

by Bette Maybee

  Charsey continued driving around for the next five minutes as the two rolled down their windows and wailed out their favorite song. Julie wouldn’t normally be caught dead singing in public, but she couldn’t help herself whenever she heard this song. She loved it, so she closed her eyes and pretended that people weren’t staring at them as they drove by. And ... she sang.

  It wasn’t until the song ended that Charsey finally pulled up the long, horseshoe drive leading to Julie’s house. She slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop by the front door. Julie hopped out and grabbed her bag from the backseat.

  “Remember, you’re driving tomorrow, Jules.”

  “I have early detention,” Julie reminded her.

  Charsey puffed out her lower lip. “Rats.” Her face brightened. “Oh well, you can drive Friday.”

  “Fine,” Julie conceded, “I’ll drive Friday.”

  Julie slung her book bag over one shoulder and ascended the wide marble steps, the high she had been feeling just moments before dissipating exponentially with each step. She stuck her key in the slot, turned the knob, swung the right side of the double door open, and stepped inside. Taking three steps onto the checkerboard slate of the foyer floor, she stopped and dropped her bags.

  “Hello?”

  The lone word echoed in the cavernous foyer, then faded away to nothing. Julie cocked her head slightly to the right and listened. For voices. Footsteps. Anything. But all she heard was the ticking of her mother’s grandfather clock, accompanied by silence—the same silence that had haunted her for the last four days. She was still alone.

  ****

  Thursday morning, Julie hit the OFF button just as the alarm started to blare. She rolled out of bed, walked straight to her bathroom, and turned on the shower. Ten minutes later she was blowing her shoulder-length platinum blonde hair dry. She ran the straightener through it, popped in her contacts, blinked them into place and stared at her reflection. Plain, she thought. I’m plain. No one will notice me. I’ll blend right in. Pale green eyes stared back at her, knowing that what she thought was a lie. She was anything but plain. She was different. She dressed differently. She spoke differently. She had lived a life no other seventeen-year-old she knew had lived. She wasn’t the same as them. She never would be. It was that simple, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  A half hour later, Julie pushed open the door to detention. As soon as the door shut behind her, the clock buzzed for a few seconds, alerting Mr. Moseman, the Assistant Principal of White Mountain Consolidated, that it was now seven a.m. Moseman looked up from the newspaper he had his nose stuck in and motioned with a jerk of his head for Julie to take a seat. Five of the twelve seats were occupied, and this was only the sixth day of school. Julie walked to the outside row farthest away from Moseman and sat two seats ahead of a mousy girl who dabbed her blood-shot eyes and runny nose with a handful of wadded tissue as her shoulders hitched from sobbing.

  Just as she set her book bag on the floor, the door opened and two burly young men walked in. Julie did a double take. Although they wore their ebony hair differently—one had his pulled back into a ponytail, and the other had his blunt cut across the back and tucked behind his ears—Julie could tell they were twins, very large, intimidating twins.

  Moseman glanced up at the clock. “You’re late!” He turned his attention to the two offenders and looked like he was about to say something, then hesitated as he stared at them. He looked back down to his newspaper. “Just sit down.” His words were barely audible.

  The twin with the ponytail turned his attention to Julie. His eyes met hers and a close-lipped smile flashed on his face, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Julie turned as the brothers moved in her direction. She grabbed her book bag and pulled out the first thing she touched—a spiral containing her notes for AP Biology. She opened it, focusing her unseeing eyes on the page as the brother with the shorter hair took the seat behind her and the ponytailed one sat in front of her. Julie’s heart began to pound, certain she was about to be crushed between the two massive brothers like a Mini-Cooper caught between two Mack trucks on the Santa Monica Freeway.

  She felt movement in the seat behind her and shuddered as a cold breath assaulted the back of her neck. Julie inched forward. The brother in front of her turned slowly, placing his muscle-bound arm on her desk. Sticking out of the bottom of the sleeve of his t-shirt was what looked like the tattoo of an angel—a warrior angel.

  He looked down at her notebook, then up to her face. “Do you always read upside down?”

  Julie felt an uneasy rush of blood up her neck. She blinked twice and flipped the spiral right side up. “No,” she replied, trying to keep the tremble she felt inside from coming out in her voice. She took a breath. “I’m just not a morning person.” She looked up, meeting the young man’s gaze and then glanced over to Moseman.

  Mr. Moseman peered over the top of his paper at the two of them. Julie hoped he would tell them to shut up. The twin turned and shot Moseman a quick glare before the man retreated back into his newspaper.

  He squinted and smiled. “Hmmm. I’ve never seen you around. You new?”

  Julie tried not to avert her eyes from his, willing herself to face him head on. “Yeah. We moved here a month ago. You?”

  “Lived here my whole life. One more year and I’m outta this hellhole. I’m Kas. Penemue.” He motioned back to his brother. “That’s Remy.”

  Julie swallowed and looked down for a brief second. “Julie.” She felt Remy’s fingers touch her hair, and she jerked her head sideways.

  “Hands off, asshole,” Kas hissed through clenched teeth.

  Remy pulled his hand away from Julie’s hair, mumbled something in Paiute and slumped back into his seat. “Whatever.”

  Julie exhaled. The cold stare Kas had given his brother softened too quickly as he turned his attention back to her.

  “Julie what?” Kas probed.

  Resolving herself to the fact that Kas would eventually find out her last name, she cut it short and gave it to him. “Mason. Julie Mason.” She shifted in her seat, her mind working frantically to figure out a way to end this conversation. “I really need to study.”

  Kas smirked and nodded. “Sure ... sure you do.” He turned around, crossed his arms and relaxed into his chair, putting his feet up on the seat of the desk in front of him. Julie exhaled. She looked down at her notes, flipping through them for the next half hour, but not registering a thing. At least they were right side up.

  ****

  As Julie rounded the corner of corridor C, she saw Charsey twirl the combination on their locker, pull up on the handle with no results, slap the locker, and start twirling again. Only 174 days to go Julie thought as she shifted her book bag from her right shoulder to her left. She stopped next to the locker, put her hand over Charsey’s to halt the insane twirling, and then removed the girl’s useless fingers from the dial.

  “Scooch.”

  Charsey stepped away from the locker, and Julie took her place. In a matter of seconds, the locker door swung open. Julie stepped out of Charsey’s way.

  “I just don’t understand how you can do that the first time,” Charsey said as she hung her bag up and grabbed a stack of books off the top shelf.

  Julie eyed Charsey’s books. Unlike herself, Charsey didn’t have any AP classes. As a matter of fact, they didn’t have any classes together except PE, which they would be having for the first time this afternoon. She was not looking forward to it.

  Julie shrugged, hung up her book bag, and slid her books off the lower shelf. “Just a gift I have, I guess.”

  Charsey’s eyes latched on to something down the hall. “Don’t look now, Jules, but Kas Penemue is eyeing you.”

  Julie dropped her eyes to the floor as her heart began to thrum.

  “Yup, it’s official. He’s now staring at your ass, annnnd ... he’s smiling. Christ, Jules, Kas Penemue likes your ass!”

  Julie turned in the opposite direction, hugged
her books to her chest, and took off. It took everything in her to keep from sprinting. Halfway down the hall, Charsey grabbed her elbow.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  Julie pulled her elbow from Charsey’s grasp.

  “I don’t want to be late for class.”

  Charsey grabbed her elbow again and pulled her into the girl’s restroom.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Two girls primping at the mirror looked their way, obviously planning on eavesdropping. Charsey turned to them.

  “Scram.”

  The girls picked up their bags and were out the door without another word.

  Charsey backed up against the door, blocking anyone else from entering. They were alone.

  “Come on, Jules, what’s wrong?”

  Julie threw her books on the sink and pulled a cigarette out of her bag, lit it, and took a drag.

  “Jesus, Jules, your hands are shaking!”

  Julie looked down at the cigarette trembling in her fingers. She took another drag, walked over to the first stall and chucked it into the john.

  “I met the Penemue brothers this morning in detention.”

  Charsey rolled her eyes. “Is that all? They’re harmless, Jules. They’re just big teddy bears that happen to play killer defense. Besides, Kas is hot. I wouldn’t mind if he looked at my ass the way he just looked at yours.”

  Julie turned to the mirror, blinked, and adjusted her right contact. Her hand was still shaking.

  “Moseman seemed afraid of them. They sat there talking and he wouldn’t even do anything about it.”

  Charsey positioned herself behind Julie and stared at her in the mirror. “Moseman wouldn’t ever do anything to upset his star football players. He just gives them a little leeway.”

  She placed her hands on Julie’s shoulders and squeezed. “When they get a little rowdy, which they tend to do before a game, they sometimes end up in detention. But it’s all just for show. It can’t appear that the school’s letting them get away with anything.”

  Julie turned to face Charsey.

  “What did they do this time?”

  Charsey shrugged, looked in the mirror, then absentmindedly lifted her right arm and sniffed her pit. Julie crinkled her nose.

  “You are so disgusting.”

  Charsey smiled and chomped her gum.

  “Why, thank you! Wanna sniff?”

  She lifted her elbow and leaned towards Julie. “Come on, Jules, it smells like watermelon!”

  Julie smiled, pushed her away, and grabbed her books off the sink. “Sounds tempting, Charse, but I think I’ll pass.” She pulled open the bathroom door just as the tardy bell for first period rang.

  Crap. This was not going to be a good day.

  Chapter Three

  Julie glided noiselessly into the first open seat she found in her American Lit class. It didn’t matter that it was designed for the left-handed, it was a seat—and Julie had snuck in without Mr. Fredricks noticing she was late. He seemed to have his attention focused on guzzling a can of Diet Pepsi he kept hidden inside the door of his classroom storage closet. By the time he emerged and grabbed a dry-erase marker, Julie had her book opened to page thirteen and was poised to take notes.

  Mr. Fredricks turned to the class and smiled.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!”

  Drops of soda glistened on his too-thick, ‘stuck-in-the-seventies’ mustache. Julie instinctively brushed her fingertips across her top lip, willing him to wipe his own. It didn’t work.

  “Let’s get to work.”

  Julie shifted her body to the left and tried to take notes on the small desktop. That lasted all of two minutes until the awkwardness finally got to her.

  “Crap!”

  She jerked her head up to see if Mr. Fredricks heard her. He continued scribbling away on the board, oblivious to Julie’s comment. Julie sighed, crossed her legs, and set her notebook in her lap. It wasn’t the ideal position for note taking, but it was better than keeping her body in that twisted position for the next forty-five minutes.

  “Native American culture is steeped in legend, and many basic beliefs stem from those legends. Would one of you fine young people care to share one you read about last night?” Mr. Fredricks crinkled his nose and pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses with his middle finger. A blond boy in the second row snorted at the seemingly innocent gesture.

  “Mr. Sloan?”

  Sloan stifled a laugh, shook his head, and sank into his seat.

  Mr. Fredricks looked around the room, and his smile faded.

  “Surely, one of you read the assignment?”

  He paused. Students shifted uncomfortably in their seats as the seconds ticked by.

  “The Lady and the Giant.”

  Julie looked up from her notebook. She recognized that voice.

  Mr. Fredricks drummed the tips of his fingers together. “Ah, our newest student! Could you please relate the story to your fellow classmates?”

  Julie looked over her left shoulder. Sitting in the corner on the far side of the room was Eli Sullivan. He brushed his hair away from his face and cleared his throat.

  “Umm. Sure. I guess there was this young Numa woman who escaped from some super-human giant. He was supposed to have been the offspring of a human woman and something like a fallen angel.”

  “Yes. They’re the Nephilim.” The mousy girl Julie had seen crying in detention earlier that morning clutched a gaudy golden cross hanging from her neck as she bobbed her head up and down. “They’re in the sixth chapter of Genesis.” She thumped the cover of a well-worn Bible sitting on top of her notebook.

  Mr. Fredricks pressed his palms together and nodded. “Thank you, Grace.”

  He looked back to Eli. “Please proceed.”

  Eli’s eyes shifted to Julie. Her heart threw a disturbing double beat, and she looked down at her notebook.

  “So, she escaped when the rest of her tribe was killed. She’s supposed to be the mother of the modern-day Paiutes.”

  “They’re back, you know.” Grace stood and twisted the cross on the chain. “They killed that girl.” Her eyes grew wide. “They’re trying to find it.”

  The blond Sloan boy spoke up. “What in the hell are you talking about, you freak?”

  “Watch it, Mr. Sloan,” Fredricks warned. “One more outburst like that and you’re outta here.” He turned back to Grace. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us what you mean?”

  Grace sat and took a breath. Before she could speak, a small voice came from the front of the room.

  “She didn’t escape alone. She had the Fire-Child.”

  A hefty Paiute girl with a single, thick, ebony braid extending halfway down her back, sat stuffed into her chair, her stomach straining against the edge of the tabletop.

  “A-ha! I see someone else read the assignment!” Mr. Fredricks leaned contentedly against his desk and crossed his arms.

  Braid-girl shook her head slowly from side to side. “No, sir, I didn’t read it. I know this legend. My mother told it to me, and her mother told her. It’s how we do it.”

  “Matriarchal oral history—I love it!” Mr. Fredricks crinkled his nose again and pushed up his glasses with his middle finger one more time. Sloan smirked and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

  “Okay, folks, it’s obvious we have a melding of cultures here. We have the Paiute legend of the Lady and the Giant, and the biblical legend of the Nephilim. We also have the Fire-Child. Could someone explain that?”

  Braid-girl raised her chubby hand.

  “Tina?”

  Tina glanced over to Julie and then down at her hands, which she now had folded on her desktop. “Every three hundred years, a creature in human form returns to Paoha. There, it is consumed in fire, and born again as a child—but it doesn’t return alone. Giants, The Great Ones, offspring of human women and The Fallen Ones pursue it and try to keep it from being reborn. Only then will the Fire-Child become mortal and die a
mortal’s death. The Great Ones are driven to commit this act out of jealousy. Although their fathers are immortal, they only live the lifespan of mortals, as they are the offspring of mortal women. This Fire-Child cannot be allowed to have something that should be their birthright. It has to be stopped.”

  Tina stopped reciting the legend she had obviously memorized and looked up at Mr. Fredricks. “She escaped with the Fire-Child, sir.”

  “Thank you, Tina.” Mr. Fredricks seemed to be dismissing her. “Does this ‘Fire-Child’ legend remind you of anything?”

  “Sounds kinda like the legend of the Phoenix.” Sloan suddenly joined the discussion. “A creature lives for a couple hundred years, then returns to its place of birth to be burnt up and born again. Sounds just like the legend of the Phoenix, as a matter of fact, except it’s happening right here in California, up at Mono Lake. My dad and I canoed out to that island—Paoha—on Labor Day. There’s nothing there. It’s like it’s dead.”

  “Sir,” Tina’s voice took on the same frantic tone as Grace’s, “she escaped with the Fire-Child, and time’s almost up!”

  Grace jumped out of her seat. “They’re gathering, Mr. Fredricks. The Fire-Child is coming back, and the Nephilim are here. They’re looking for it. They killed that redheaded girl to see if she was the Fire-Child. If she were, then she would have come back to life within three days. They can heal themselves, you know, and others, with their tears. Well, she didn’t come back to life. She was just a human, so they dumped her body. They’ll keep looking, Mr. Fredricks. They’ll keep killing until they find it!”

  Silence. Julie glanced back at Eli. He was still looking at her.

  “Thumper and Tiny in the same class. What a freak show,” Sloan mumbled.

  Mr. Fredricks shot him a look just as the bell rang.

  Julie grabbed her book bag and headed for the door. Mr. Fredricks stepped in front of her, blocking her way.