Elemental

by Debbie Kump

  Micah? Nice? Then why did I seem to bring out the worst in him?

  “What I wouldn’t give to trade places with you,” she finished. She turned away to wait for Mr. Horowitz to start class.

  Okay, I felt officially confused. She said I made the hate list. Why would she wish that fate upon herself, too?

  Then she spun around in her chair once more, her blond curls bouncing around her cherub face. “Oh, I forgot. My name’s Bethany.” She gave a small wave. “Bethany Donovan.”

  And now she wanted to be my friend? An unexpected smile crossed my lips. All those times I’d hidden in solitude, hoping to avoid The Three, I’d forgotten how much I missed having friends…especially Skye.

  “I’m Jordan,” I said. My grin widened. “Jordan Smith.”

  She smiled back before returning her attention to the teacher who propped on the edge of his comfy rolling chair, his hands stuffed deep within the pockets of his khaki pants. Wearing a cotton floral print shirt more befitting of someone who resided on a tropical island, Mr. Horowitz dragged his fingers across his full brown beard, discussing something called commensalism: a form of symbiotic relationship between two organisms where one benefits and the other neither benefits nor endures harm.

  For a brief moment, I wondered if this term accurately described my relationship with Micah, or if in reality I seemed more of a parasite. I clearly used his home for a place to heal my wounds. As long as Gaia, Hydros, and Skye never found out, Micah and his family should be okay. But if The Three discovered me there…

  I shuddered at the thought, a chill racing down my spine. Best that never happens. Without a second thought to Mr. Horowitz’s lecture, I glanced around the room, intent on memorizing and mimicking the girls’ mannerisms—how they slouched in their chairs, played with their hair, and secretly checked their phones under their desks.

  Then I frowned. Unlike everyone else, I didn’t have a phone. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough to make me stand out from the others.

  Behind me, two girls whispered across the aisle. I strained to hear their discussion about someone named Jake liking someone named Isa, intently focusing on remembering every word and intonation of the conversation.

  Listen and blend in. Because not only did I place my future at stake but unfortunately Micah’s, Celia’s, and Cam’s, too.

  Occasionally throughout the class, Mr. Horowitz paused to ask a question. When no one volunteered an answer, he’d randomly call on a student. Each time, I hoped to God he wouldn’t choose me. But by the end of the class period, the students’ conversations had grown louder than Mr. Horowitz himself.

  And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The apathy of his class sent Mr. Horowitz into a tirade. He rose from his chair and slammed a book on his desk to silence the students’ buzzing. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you’ll have a test on this next week.”

  One boy raised his hand.

  Exasperated, Mr. Horowitz sighed, “Yes, Mark?”

  “A test on what?” Mark asked with false innocence.

  Mr. Horowitz looked hot under the collar of his floral shirt. His voice rose a few notches but he didn’t answer Mark’s question. Instead, he turned toward the whole class and ranted, “If in twenty years I find you have a slab of arid land on a knobby hill with a sign that says Mr. Horowitz’s Garden…and if in that so-called ‘garden,’ the only seeds that survive bear scraggly, thorny shrubs that grow low to the ground and are coarse to the touch while all the smart seeds don’t even bother to land…then I’ll know I’ve done my job. But until then—”

  I had no idea what he meant by that analogy when a dissonant bell interrupted his speech and sent me flying out of my seat. Though a few classmates behind me laughed, they all seemed unalarmed by the noise and stood up, robotically shuffling toward the door.

  Mr. Horowitz’s face turned red. “Remember, people, the bell does not dismiss you. I do.”

  Though the few kids closest to the door bolted for their freedom, the rest of the class sulked back to their seats and sank into their chairs. Under their desks, they pulled out their phones, quickly texting a message like Micah had to Tessa during his video game the night before.

  I snuck a glance around the room. Though I found Mr. Horowitz’s tone harsh, no one else seemed fazed by it. Which led me to think this wasn’t the first time he’d lectured them and made them late to their next class.

  Nor would it be the last.

  After Mr. Horowitz reluctantly allowed us to leave with what he called a “generous” minute of passing time, I squeezed out the door jammed with students eager to catch their friends in the hall before their next class began. Lucky for me, my next class lay just a few doors down so I managed to make it there in time, without asking for directions.

  Unlucky for me, I had Algebra II. And I didn’t even know what topics they taught in Algebra I.

  Even unluckier for me, I walked in and immediately saw Micah. I supposed the guidance counselor thought it might help ease my adjustment by having a familiar face in my classes.

  And her plan probably would’ve worked…if that familiar face didn’t despise me.

  After showing the teacher, Mr. Pulanski, my admit slip, I passed by Micah’s desk and took the last empty seat in his row.

  Micah’s phone hummed, vibrating on his desktop. He picked it up, and then rolled his eyes. “It’s for you,” he said with annoyance. He reached over the kid sitting between us to hand me his phone.

  I grabbed it, looking at him in confusion.

  “Well, hurry up,” he prodded. “Class’ll start any second.” He made a sign with his thumb and pinky, placing them up to his ear as if he talked on his phone.

  So I mimicked Micah’s behavior and placed the phone by my head. “Yes?”

  “Hey, Jordan. S’up?”

  When I heard Sully’s voice mysteriously transmitted to my ear, I immediately released my grip, assuming the thing was possessed. Micah looked at me, more agitated than usual for dropping his phone. I scrambled to pick his phone off the floor, finally understanding why Micah and every other student except me checked them with eagerness and regularity. Instant contact with any friend, day or night. What more could you ask for?

  “How’s your first day going so far?” Sully’s voice asked.

  “Um. Okay, I guess.”

  “Cool. Gotta go.”

  “Oh. All right.” Before I had a chance to say good-bye, Sully ended the call. I blinked, staring at Micah’s phone for a second before passing it back to him. He stuffed it in his pocket just as the bell rang again.

  Instantly, I felt lost in a world of what Mr. Pulanski called coefficients and variables while he explained how to solve systems of equations by substitution and elimination. After struggling to process his examples for a quarter of an hour, I gave up. Unlike my last class, here I found no muffled conversations for me to listen in on, either. So with nothing better to do, I put my head down on the desk like a few other students.

  The grueling morning dragged on for what seemed like forever. By the time I finished my math, art, and British Lit classes, my brain entered shutdown mode. Exhausted, I wanted nothing better than to find a quiet space to myself where I could eat my lunch in peace.

  But when I entered the crowded lunchroom that buzzed with chattering teens, I realized my request seemed impossible to meet, unless I sat by the windows.

  I headed in that direction when Sully waved me over. “Hey, Jordan,” he called. “I saved you a seat.” He tapped the bench next to him.

  I sighed, spotting Micah also at that table, sandwiched between Tessa and another girl whose name I’d already forgotten. And looking the happiest I’d seen him yet.

  Figures. I plopped down next to Sully and opened my bag lunch, wondering what Celia had thrown inside during our morning rush out the door.

  “Jordan, do you know everyone already?” Sully asked, gesturing around the table.

  I shook my head. Though I’d seen most of these
people at one time or another throughout the morning, I couldn’t recall a single name, except for Tessa Bradshaw’s.

  “Okay, guys, this’s Jordan. And Jordan, this’s everyone: Isa, Jake, Liz. And you know Micah.”

  But Micah didn’t hear him. Either that or he deliberately chose to ignore me.

  “And Tessa, Justin, Karli, and me, of course.”

  By Karli’s frown, I could tell she didn’t look pleased with him devoting this much attention to me, even on my first day.

  Just then, Bethany Donovan skittered across the floor and dropped her lunch tray between me and Sully so fast I could barely move my bag out of the way.

  “Oh, and hey, Bethany,” Sully finished, looking awfully surprised to see her joining their table for lunch.

  Bethany squeezed her tiny frame into the even tinier space left on the bench, effectively bumping my cast into Isa—who shot me a nasty look. I offered a small, “Sorry,” but it didn’t erase her irritation.

  “Hi, Jordan. Hi, Sully,” Bethany said, curt and businesslike. She swooshed her curly blond hair to one side. Then she turned to Micah, batted her eyelashes once, and gushed, “Hi, Micah.”

  Micah looked up as if noticing her for the first time. Giving Bethany a withering look, he nodded slightly in recognition before returning to his conversation with Karli and Liz.

  Still, it seemed like more recognition than he’d given me.

  Sully leaned forward to grab my attention again. “Think you know everyone, Jor—?”

  But Bethany interrupted, “I can’t believe Mr. Horowitz kept us after class. Again. Can you?” Without waiting for a response, she continued, “And then you should’ve seen what happened in choir. It was ridiculous! Mrs. Watkins actually made us stand on the risers singing the same song for the whole period. Now the stupid thing’s stuck in my head and—”

  I blinked, my head hurting from trying to keep up with her incessant chatter. I leaned forward and whispered to Sully across Bethany’s tray, “Is she always like this?”

  With a shrug, he rolled his eyes, and then took another bite of his sandwich.

  Talking nonstop, Bethany ate little of her lunch. Her gaze remained fixed on Micah the entire time. I wondered if she seemed as interested in being my friend as I’d thought. Or if I provided a convenient excuse to get closer to Micah.

  In the middle of chewing my first bite, I noticed Karli sitting across the table. She glared at me through narrowed eyes and then shot Sully a possessive look before returning to her meal. I got the feeling she hated having me and the chattering Bethany sitting next to her guy.

  Squeezed into my narrow space on the bench, I didn’t look up from my apple again, eager for the lunch period to end.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I walked with Micah and Sully to our next class.

  Okay, scratch that. Actually, it was more like Micah walked five paces in front of me and Sully, even though we all headed to the same American History class.

  Unlike Mr. Horowitz’s casual beachcomber style, this teacher appeared bookish, wearing a tweed jacket and small round bifocal glasses that perpetually slid down his nose. With thinning hair combed over the shiny bald spot on top of his head, he introduced himself as Mr. Tabor, gave me a weak handshake, and then directed me to an empty desk in the back of the room.

  While he spoke to the class, I soon battled imminent sleep, listening to his dull, monotonic voice delve into length about one of our past presidents and naturalists, Teddy Roosevelt. I found it confusing that society would regard someone who hunted a bunch of rare, large mammals a “naturalist.”

  The room seemed so warm. My desk so inviting. I hadn’t realized before how tired I was after the zombie nightmare. Shaking my head to refocus, I pressed my Primrose Passion fingernails into my skin, hoping to make myself more alert as the lecture continued in anguishing detail. Only nothing worked. Sneaking a glance around the room, I searched for a nearby conversation to preoccupy me instead, but I had no such luck. Mr. Tabor droned on about Roosevelt’s “Speak softly and carry a big stick” policy, and one student after another drifted away.

  In the row next to me, Micah struggled to take notes, his eyes glazing over. Across the room, I saw Sully’s head bob, fighting impending slumber. A few moments later, he succumbed and laid his head upon his folded arms across the desktop.

  In a last resort to combat my sleep-induced trance, I cracked open my book and flipped through the pages, wondering if I’d missed anything more interesting than this class during my last jump to the present time.

  I passed a bunch of pictures of presumably famous people I didn’t recognize and stopped on a picture, pausing to read the caption beneath.

  “Oh, my God!” I gasped, cupping both hands over my mouth. I stared in disbelief at a photograph of a mushroom cloud that ended the Second World War. There were two of them?

  “Jordan?” Mr. Tabor asked. He pushed his bifocals up his nose. “Do you have something to share with the class?”

  “Oh, I…um,” I stammered. My face flushed hot and I sank lower in my seat. “No. I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Tabor released an irritated sigh. “Okay, then, class. Who can remember why President Roosevelt pushed to complete the Panama Canal?”

  No one raised a hand.

  After waiting for Mr. Tabor to return to his notes, I quickly glanced next to me, noticing Micah perked up, but not because of the lecture. When I caught his eye, he shot me a quizzical look.

  “Oops,” I mouthed to him with a sheepish smile before returning my attention to the book, eager to discover what else I had missed in my fiery jump through time.

  I thumbed through to the next chapter, pausing on a color photograph of someone dressed in a protective white suit. His mirrored face shield depicted another similarly clad figure and the American flag on a vast cratered surface, devoid of other life. The caption below read, Apollo 11 Eagle Moon Landing.

  “I don’t believe it,” I whispered, too low for Mr. Tabor to hear. But not too low for Micah. I peeked over my shoulder to see him craning his neck across the aisle.

  Be more discreet! Only I never imagined I had missed so much. World Wars, a moon landing…what else could’ve happened? Going back a few chapters, I found a nationwide Depression. And when I leapt ahead, I saw more titles about wars in Korea, Vietnam, and Iraq. Soon Micah started flipping through the pages of his book, too, trying to keep pace with me.

  Presidential assassinations, civil rights movements, terrorist attacks, school shootings, revolutions in the Middle East—every page I encountered held another unbelievable headline. My head reeled, attempting to comprehend them all.

  Start with baby steps, Jordan. I closed my eyes, thinking back to the last place and time I remembered: Chicago in October 1871.

  I skipped ahead to the index in the back of the book and looked up Chicago. Suddenly, my face paled. A wave of nausea passed over me when I read the subheading, Great Chicago Fire, 347.

  Coincidence, I convinced myself. Not a chance I started it. It couldn’t be the same one.

  I turned to page 347, my throat growing excruciatingly dry. I read the first sentence:

  The Great Chicago Fire raged from late Sunday, October 8 to early Tuesday, October 10, 1871.

  October of 1871.

  “Oh. My. God.” I clasped my hand over my mouth, my eyes widening. “It can’t be.” Despite the pain of ascertaining the truth, I forced myself to keep reading.

  The conflagration began around 9 P.M. in or near a small barn that bordered the alley of DeKoven Street. Aided by the city’s abundant supply of wood buildings, a recent drought, and strong winds—

  “No way.” I breathed.

  Skye.

  I really hadn’t meant to start a fire in that old barn. She just startled me and the flames came out unexpectedly. It was my only way to stop her. And just as unexpectedly, the entire scene abruptly played back in vivid detail.

  I fled on horseback with Skye in close pursuit. Startled, I screame
d, “Leave me alone!” Before I knew it, another agonizing burst of fire erupted from my trembling hand. Then she manipulated the flames to her will, driving them from building to building on the backs of her violent winds.

  I read on…

  The blaze quickly spread, eventually destroying approximately 4 square miles, killing more than 300 people, and leaving 100,000 others homeless.

  I couldn’t bear to look at another word as I imagined all those people, homeless—or worse—because of me.

  I felt awful. Terribly, dreadfully, awful.

  Leaning back in my chair, beads of guilt-ridden sweat broke across my brow. It seemed like a vice gripped my heart and squeezed it to oblivion. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I could alter the course of history to erase my unintentional mistakes. All of a sudden, I remembered that everything would be repeated—perhaps worse this time—if I blew my cover now. In fear, my eyes darted around the room, trying to see if anyone else had noticed my unexpected change in behavior.

  Apparently, they had.

  Micah wore one eyebrow perched high on his forehead, studying me with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. The look on his face begged, Why do I have to live with such a dork? Karli, Liz, Jake, and a couple of others sitting near me whose names I couldn’t recall woke up and stared at me with utter shock and disbelief.

  In fact, only Sully remained fast asleep, and Mr. Tabor, who stood with his back toward the class and wrote a set of dates on the board, seemed oblivious to my reactions.

  What was I thinking? I closed the textbook and pulled out my notebook. My hand frantically scribbled across the page, hopefully to give the impression of taking copious notes. In reality, I scrawled nothing but dribble as my mind raced through the events in Chicago again. Did Skye even know what she did? Did she even care?

  I guessed a “no” to the latter question. And if she had lost all feeling for humanity, that only meant one thing—our next encounter would prove far more destructive.

  I glanced down at my cast, knowing I must do everything in my power to remain inconspicuous until my arm healed. Only then would I be ready to take her on again.