by A. B. Bloom
I was broken. A china doll discarded. My throat became tighter and tighter. My mind flashed back to Eleanor in the dinner hall, her hand placed on his arm. I couldn't erase the image of her sitting there, purring with contentment. It jarred with me and set me on edge, making me feel more brittle and weak than I already was.
I shoved the thoughts out of my head. "How's work?" I asked to change the subject. Aaron frowned.
"Terrible, actually. There is a general consensus the best thing to do is panic."
"Panic how?"
He flashed me a grin, which made me see the man my mum fell in love with when she was pregnant with me. "All the shops have sold out of toilet paper and baked beans!"
I snickered. "No toilet roll? Have we got enough?"
"Don't worry," said with a wink. "I've stock piled."
I pretended to mop my brow. "Phew. That's a relief, I was seeing an end of days butt wiping dilemma coming on."
Aaron laughed and got up from them bed. "I've got to go back to the crazy house."
"Stay away from the baddies."
“Always." He leant down and planted a kiss on the top of my head. "Don't go out, Bron. Please."
I cringed. "Okay." I knew I would go out. I wouldn't miss an imaginary party.
"How are you feeling by the way?" He stopped by the door, his loaded question sounding nonchalant and well rehearsed.
"Fine. Honestly, I'm fine.
"He paused for a long moment. "Okay." His hand closed the door. "Stay in."
“I'm staying in."
"Good." Through the closed door.
"Good."
The moment his feet pounded down the stairs, I leapt from the bed and marched across the carpet to my wardrobe. Now what should I wear?
What did one wear to an imaginary party thrown by someone who didn't exist?
After two minutes in the car with Lauren, I knew she thought our evening was normal. I'd been prompting her with questions unable to believe my ears when she'd answered each one convincingly.
"So where does Phoenix live again?" I asked. I kept my face turned towards the passenger window, watching the dark sky. The windows were down, fresh air rushing in. Lauren was driving fast across the lanes. The ancient worn stone walls lining the road whizzed by at an uncomfortable pace.
"You know where he lives, on the moor, in the big house."
I chewed my bottom lip. There were no houses on the moor. Not any more. And animals and wild ivy now inhabited the ones that had existed.
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten." I stated. "And his parents? Where will they be?"
Lauren turned and frowned, causing the car to swerve over the white lines. "Who are you? The party police?"
"No." I straightened the knitted sweater I'd finally decided on. "It was just a question."
"Come on, Bron." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. "Let's just have a good time."
"Okay." I muttered.
"Just try and stay out of Eleanor's way, you know how jealous she gets of the way Phoenix looks at you."
Okay. This was truly insane.
"I'll try hard to stay out of everyone's way," I assured her.
Before we could discuss further, we pulled along a road I knew didn't exist. Cars parked all along one side, making the lane too narrow for a passing car. Not that it would deter Lauren from ploughing ahead. “Pull the wing mirror in," she said, when it looked like we were about to get jammed between the wall and a Fiat 500, parked at an angle.
"I don't think there will be any spaces up there." I peered through the windscreen but couldn't even see where "up there" was. There were cars everywhere. I recognised people from school as they walked along to an unknown destination.
"Of course there will. Positive thinking and all that." Lauren continued to manoeuvre the car at a snail's pace. Finally, we were outside a building I'd never seen before. I stared at it in open mouthed wonder. It looked like it should have belonged on a film set for Wuthering Heights. My mind flashed to Heathcliff and Cathy searching for each other across a wild moor, not dissimilar to this one. I shook my head. This was no time for contemplating the subtext of classic literature.
Lauren cruised her Punto into a space right outside the front door. "Positive thinking, hey?" I asked.
"Works every time." She grinned but then leant forward. "Listen, Bron. I know you've got an angsty vibe going at the moment. And I know it's just because you don't feel very well, but try and have fun, yeah?" She glanced into the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick, using her index finger to straighten the vibrant red edge.
I glanced down the road resembling a car park. "I'll try and have fun," I said. "But judging by the amount of people, it won't take long before Aaron turns up with his blues and two's flashing. He's gonna be seriously pissed off with us."
Lauren tapped me on the forehead. It wasn't hard but it hurt all the same, I just hoped it wouldn't bruise. "Positive thoughts, Bron. He'll never know we were here."
I didn't want to burst her bubble but I was sure my step dad would be aware we attended a party and broke his curfew. I grimaced just thinking about it. Lauren opened her door and a deafening bass blasted through the car. Yep. Aaron was going to be about twenty minutes away—max.
"Wow, let's go party!" Lauren threw herself out of the car, adjusting her skirt, and chased up the steps into the house, leaving me following in her wake.
The decor was discreetly decadent. Rich, bright rugs complemented dark antiques and fragile glass. I wasn't sure the glassware would survive having that many people dancing around it. The place was heaving. The volume of chatter made my head spin. I had a nasty vision of Aaron turning up to break up the party and finding me collapsed with a migraine. That would mean homeschooling for sure. It would probably also involve a sentence of grounding I wouldn't be able to argue with. What would be my defence? "I had to go to the party to check the fictional boy was in fact fictional"?
It was a terrible excuse.
I pushed through the crowd trying to keep up with Lauren. She seemed to know where she was going but I lost her after two minutes of relentless pursuit. Where did all these people come from? Some I recognised, but surely there were more people crammed into the building then attended our small school?
"Bronte," a loud cry stopped me in my tracks. It couldn't be could it? I turned, my feet rooting into the floor. "Bronte, you're here. So glad you made it." Eleanor came up and flung her arm over my shoulder leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. My entire body stiffened at her touch. It felt unnatural. "Nicky, baby, look who's here." Her voice projected over the crowd, calling over the heads of the other party goers. It was louder than I'd ever heard before. I mean, I knew it could holler over the quad at school but a room like this, packed with this many people was a feat by any standards. I was wondering who the hell Nicky was, but I didn't have to wait long to find out. He moved with an easy grace. His black clothed body was lithe like a jungle cat, it was mesmerising. His cap was still in place obscuring his face, but I could see the flash of a satisfied smile which made my back straighten.
"Bron, so glad you came." The way he said my name sent ripples along my skin, the chain unfurled and delved in the pit of my stomach. I wished it would go away and leave me alone. A moment too slow, I realised Eleanor and him were a joint welcoming committee. My chest constricted and I wondered if there was a vortex sucking air out of the room.
What did it matter? None of this was real.
Thing was, it was feeling like it mattered. It felt like this could take place. That maybe he was standing in front of me watching me from within the depths of his cap, gauging my reactions.
"Ellie, weren't you going to get drinks?" he asked
I laughed. In all the years I'd known her I'd never seen her get a drink for anyone. They were brought to her, normally on a tray with nibbles on the side.
"Sure." She nodded absently and walked away. That was it.
That was when I
knew.
My blood boiled. A burning hot rage simmered in my veins when I realised someone was manipulating me. I wasn't sure how it was being done, or why, but I felt it all the same.
“Can we talk?" I asked.
"Can we dance?" He took a step closer, fingers skimming my elbow, and
I felt my knees bend a little towards him. Curse it.
"No." I spun on my heel and marched for the door. Outside the air was freezing but I marched down the pathway leading to the moor.
"Bron, wait." He called my name, his tone dislodged a memory from the morning, a memory I'd forgotten until now.
“Who's Tara?" I whirled and asked. "What?" His body sagged a little at my words. 'What do you mean?" His tone became guarded and he backed away a fraction.
"This morning, by the fence, you called me Tara. Why?"
"You remember that?"
"I fainted," I snapped. "I didn't suffer from amnesia."
"But you can remember us talking?" His shoulders slumped. In response, the chain in my stomach rattled and tried to squirm towards him.
He felt it. He glanced at me, his face hidden, an emotion I didn’t understand drawn in the firm line of his lips.
"Seriously? Are we going to do this?" I asked.
He backed away. His body straightened. "Yes, I think we are. What do you remember?"
Contemplating what to say, I blasted air through my lips. I caught a flicker of a smile from under the cap. "Yesterday I saw you. No one else did."
Was I really going to say all this out loud?
Yes I was.
Continuing I said, "At lunch time I fell over and broke my hand. You fixed it." I swallowed around the memory of the pain, and then I swallowed again when I remembered his touch. "This morning I went to ask you about it and apparently fainted. When I woke up you were playing the role of the most popular guy in school who is dating Eleanor Heavers." I didn't need to add the bit about Eleanor. I just couldn't stop myself.
There was a definite smile. "I'm not dating anyone."
"No?" I leant in and whispered, "Hate to tell you, buddy, but I don't think she knows that."
He watched me in total silence.
"None of this is real, is it?" I looked back to the house, we were much further out on the moor than I expected. Dark shadows seemed to reach for me and I took an instinctive step towards him.
His head cocked to the side. "Everyone else thinks it's real." His voice ran like liquid velvet.
I shook my head. "But it's not."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because until yesterday I'd never seen you before."
"Are you sure?" He leaned closer, his face still frustratingly obscured.
"Yes, I'm damn sure.
He took another step closer and I was surprised by how tall he seemed, tall and powerful. "It is you?" He seemed to talk to himself and he didn’t appear filled with joy at his observation.
“Is me what?" Cryptic conversations with someone who didn't exist were making my head spin. "I'm almost entirely sure I was me last time I checked. It's who you are which I don't understand."
He wasn't listening. “Why are you so weak?" he wondered out loud.
"Excuse me? That's rude; I'm standing right here."
He shook his head, his focus trained on some far off place. "This doesn't make any sense."
"I'd say." I shoved my hands against his chest with as much force as I could muster. The impact should have splintered the bones in my wrist. He didn't move. "What is going on?"
His hand reached for my arm, although it never made contact, stopping just short of touching my skin. "It's complicated."
"Complicated? Really? You have my entire school attending a party in a house that doesn't exist and you're telling me it's complicated."
This time his hand grazed my arm. "No, Bronte, that's not all I'm saying." His voice lowered a pitch so that its unique tone resonated in my head. "I'm saying there are right ways to go about things."
"What things?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "This is hard. You really have no idea, do you?"
My eyes bulged on stalks, my blood pressure close to a cardiac arrest. "Have no idea about what? Apart from the fact you're an imaginary idiot and I don't know why I'm having this crazy conversation."
A short burst of laughter rocketed from his lips. It made me jump. "I'm not imaginary."
"But this isn't real?"
"Would you like it to be?" He tilted his head a little and I sensed him analysing me from under the cap.
"No."
He spun and stalked away apparently bored with our conversation. "The others will know why you're different."
"What others?" I chased after him even though I knew we were going deeper into the moor. My foot caught in a tuft of grass and I started to fall until a hand caught me and balanced me upright.
"We also need to work out why you can't walk straight."
"I can." I grabbed him by the arm and made him stop. "What do you mean ‘different’?"
He sighed and his body angled towards mine a fraction. I was struck by the fact he seemed to know me even though I didn't know him. "Why you don't have any power? Why you don't know who you are yet? Why of all the ones we've tracked down, you had to be the one who's different?" This last question seemed to perplex him the most. I still had no idea what he was going on about.
"What power? Seriously, are you on drugs? My stepdad is an Inspector with the police and he would ground me for all eternity if I was hanging out with a druggie."
"Hanging out?" I wished I could see his face, but the dark and the cap were keeping him concealed. "This isn't hanging out, Bronte, this is war."
I took a step to the side and then when he didn't follow, another step back. "I don't understand what you're talking about, but I think I will go back now."
"You can't run, Bron. It's your birthright."
"Okay." Another five steps back. I glanced over my shoulder to gauge how far the house and cars were but there was nothing there. Just empty dark moor looming with shadowed intent. "I want to go home." My throat was so tight the words had to squeeze their way up my vocal chords.
He reached for me and I was expecting him to grab me. My lungs filled with air, preparing to shriek. Instead of grabbing me, his thumb gently stroked along the curve of my cheek, his palm cradling my face. "I don't know what will happen when the others get here." The chain unfurled from deep within the depths of my stomach and wound it’s way between us.
"What others?" My words were nothing more than a whisper in the breeze.
"The other Stars. That's who you are, Bron. It's who you were born to be."
My eyes snapped open, my gaze landing on the familiar swirls patterned on the dated ceiling. My head throbbed and I wondered if I'd suffered a migraine. I glanced at the bedside cabinet, searching for my phone, but instead found a sprig of fresh heather.
My feet scurried against the mattress as I tried to sit up. The memory of being on the moor with the strange new boy materialised with startling clarity. I actually cried out. I shoved my hand tight across my mouth to stop from making any other noise, but it was too late. "You okay, Bron?" Mum called from her bedroom.
"Yeah," I shouted back. "Uh, I nearly fell out of bed.
She didn't rush in so I allowed myself to relax, as much as I could, and pick up the heather in my fingers. It was still fresh, the flowers soft and delicate.
I had no recollection of getting home. Or anything after his final words. That's who you are Bron, it was who you were born to be.
That's a joke. Surely.
I scrambled for my phone. Me Text: Lauren, are you okay?
When her answer didn't instantly flash back a hard knot formed in my stomach. Throwing down the mysterious heather, I climbed off the mattress. I was unwilling to relinquish any precious time changing into something clean, so I threw my clothes from the previous night back on.
I stopped when I glanced in the mirror. My ha
ir which had been a scraggly mess yesterday when I'd pinned it up for the party was hanging by my shoulders. Was it me, or did it look shinier than normal?
Lauren.
This wasn't the time to be worrying about my glossy locks.
Flinging the door wide so it rebounded off the bedroom wall, I ran down the stairs. My feet slipping on the last few steps. "Whoa, Tiger, where are you going?" Aaron was coming through the door as I yanked it open. His eyes glanced over me, narrowing ever so slightly.
"Gotta get to Lauren's," I explained trying to edge past him. His arm shot out and blocked me.
"Slow down, have you had breakfast?"
"Well, no."
"Have you taken your tablets?"
I grimaced which was answer enough. "Up you go, I'll make you a piece of toast you can take with you on your urgent mission."
Groaning, I turned and headed back for the stairs, propelling myself off the bevelled bannister to build up my speed. I didn't have time for this. I had to check that some psychotic boy in a baseball cap that thought I was a star hadn’t murdered Lauren.
A star? If I hadn't been so worried about Lauren I would have laughed.
I shook my tablets out into my palm, barely taking the time to count them, and then ran for the stairs again. Aaron timed it so that as I crashed onto the bottom step, he was waiting with a piece of buttered toast in one hand a glass of water in the other. "What's set you on fire this morning?" He looked haggard. Raising an eyebrow, he rubbed a hand against the stubble across his jaw, it scratched against his touch. The lines around his eyes crinkled like baking parchment.
"What went on last night?" I asked. I needed to remind myself that there was a real world.
"You haven't seen the news this morning?"
I motioned to my face and hair. "I haven't seen a mirror this morning."
Aaron gave a tired chuckle and pinched my chin in his thumb and forefinger like he always had since I was a kid. "Well you'll soon see. It's not pretty."
I frowned. "Okay. Listen, I've gotta go find Lauren."
