Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Listen guys, this isn't helping. It's the now we need to figure out. I don't want to pop a five-point AFTD on the APs. They're what, a week away? My dad,” Carson rolled his eyes and I ignored him, plowing forward, “says that puberty is the exact time they test because scientists have proven that abilities come online then, sometimes for the first time.” Not for me, I added silently.

  The first bell gave its shrill beckon exactly then. I looked at Brett and Carson. “I need you guys to cover for me. At least until the tests are finished.”

  I was appealing to their good side.

  You can't force us to, Hart,” Brett said.

  “Yeah, just because daddy's famous doesn't give you clout,” Carson echoed.

  So much for that.

  “How about doing it because it's the right thing to do?” asked Jonesy, out of the blue.

  “The human thing to do,” interjected John.

  “He's not human.” Carson said, stabbing a finger toward my chest.

  Prejudice at its finest. But what did I expect from these two?

  “You got that right,” Brett agreed, walking off with Carson.

  We watched them move away into the multicolor sea of kids.

  “Did ya see that bruise necklace Brett was wearing?” Jonesy asked.

  Yeah, some people had more than corpse-raising to worry about.

  “It's the dad,” John said.

  Jonesy turned those liquid eyes to me, “Feel sorry for him Caleb? Don't go soft on me bro. You're always giving jackasses the benefit of the doubt.”

  Not yet, I thought, saying nothing.

  Seeing my expression he said, “Yeah, my cup of care is empty too.”

  My conscious teetered on the balance of right and wrong. Brett had it bad, but he chose to act bad. It didn't make things easier, it made it more complicated.

  Jonesy clapped me on the back and John gave me the nod. My friends had my back.

  It was gonna be a hurricane of crap and I was in the eye of it. The Js and I walked off to Shop class. Time to make my mom a heart-shaped box, when my heart was definitely not into it.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Js and I had Shop first period and it was a good thing because we needed to figure out A Plan.

  After talking to the ass-monkeys I couldn't get the genome out of my head, cramming into the tight space of my skull like a song that wouldn't stop playing.

  The mapping of 2010 happened under pressure from President Obama. Desperate for health care reform, mapping offered incentive to activate “markers” for the population. It was the key to identifying genetic potential for: cancer, heart disease, stroke, even alcoholism and drug addictions. If the People wanted universal health care, they would be mapped, with a microchip put underneath the skin. Every marker identified genetic codes and a percentage of the person's wage taken for the “privilege.” Now, if someone didn't want the microchip, no health care. There was a helluva lot more than just disease markers now. Teens were the proof.

  We sat around the table together and our Shop teacher, Mr Morginstern, approached us with a cheery, “Good morning fellas!”

  It was criminal he was happy. Doesn't he know the Monday-is-hateful-rule?

  “Hey,” I mumbled.

  Jonesy and John gave Morginstern the nod. Morginstern was excited about teaching and we were excited about school ending for the day.

  “So, how was your guys' weekend? Do anything interesting?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  Yeah, I think.

  I imagined a conversation like: Ah no problem, Mr. Morginstern, just creeping around illegally in a graveyard, raising a corpse, enemies seeing the blow-by-blow...real interesting.

  Instead I said, “It was okay.”

  Jonesy was choking up on it. I gave him a look, don't blow it. “Yeah.”

  John was unflappably silent as usual, controlling a sly grin with effort, the anchor to our madness.

  Morginstern seemed to accept our weird responses and went over the whole process of our boxes again; adults, painfully redundant. We got to decide what kind of “box” to make. Heart-shaped was the hardest shape of all (masochist). I got out my sandpaper, one-twenty grit, extra fine.

  John kept his voice low. “So what's the plan?”

  A fine dust fell from the interior arc of the heart onto the work table. The sanding from the three of us served as an excellent conversation concealer.

  “I don't know yet, I gotta think about it more. I'm not ending up like Parker. 'Affinity for the Dead,' wasn't that cool for him,” I said.

  “Ask your dad, he's the genius,” Jonesy said.

  “Quiet, smack attack.”

  Jonesy ducked his head. “I'm sorry bro, it was an accident.”

  “Gotcha, just wanted to see what you'd say,” I joked.

  “Oh man! Don't do that dude!” Jonesy threw his sand paper at me and I deflected it, the paper landing on John, embedding in his hair.

  Morginstern glanced over at us and gave us the “warning” voice, “Caleb Hart! Jonesy, John-- no throwing supplies.”

  “Stop screwing around. This is serious,” John said.

  As serious as a heart attack, I thought, struggling not to laugh. “I'll talk with my dad tonight, he'll have ideas.”

  “He's got resources, right?” Jonesy asked.

  “Using your big boy words Jonesy?” I smiled.

  We all laughed and agreed to meet up at my place.

  I had every class with John except PE, Jonesy was in PE (I was never without a J). That was the class where we got to check out the girls. One in particular I liked a lot.

  “I want to play dodge ball today,” Jonesy said.

  “Yeah, that'll happen. 'No head shots, no body shots above the waist, no leg shots'...” I imitated Miss Griswold's annoying voice.

  I sighed. Dodge ball rocked but Griswold was a joy-sucker. I mean, what part of the body could we hit if everything was a no-hit zone?

  Retarded.

  Just then Jade LeClerc walked by, my eyes tracking her. Jet black hair gleamed like a curtain of silk waiting to be touched. She had the greatest eyes, green like a cat's. A memory shimmered just out of reach...a red shirt, concrete and dirt... Ow! Jonesy gave me a strategic elbow to the side, the memory slipping away like a vapor.

  I turned to him. “What was that for?”

  “Stop staring,” Jonesy said. “Why do you like her anyway, she's kinda emo.”

  “No she's not, she just wants people to think she is. Keeps them away,” I said, trying to recapture that fleeting shard of the past.

  “Oh and you're such a girl expert... right,” Jonesy laughed.

  He got the scowl he deserved. “I've watched her. She doesn't make a move to be anyone's friend, but there's something cool about her...”

  “She's too weird. Pick someone else. Look at them all.” Jonesy spread out his hands to include the bounty of girls.

  My eyes strayed back to Jade. She just looked unique. I'd build up the courage to say something to her. I told Jonesy that.

  “You've had Science with her what, almost two semesters? We're in fourth quarter and you still haven't said anything?” Jonesy stated, disgusted. “Besides, what's she gonna think when she finds out about what you can do? She saw you pass out, right?”

  I couldn't deny his reasoning there. Who hadn't seen me bite the floor? Maybe, once I had a plan on how to hide what I was, I could say hey.

  “Maybe she doesn't need to ever know,” I said.

  Jonesy arched a brow, the whites of his eyes wider in his brown face, “You can't cover forever bro.” He shrugged.

  I figured, but I liked to fantasize.

  Miss Griswold blew her whistle and we lined up for warm-ups. We were in alphabetical order so Jonesy and I weren't close, neither was Jade. But I was close to Carson Hamilton. Real Close.

  “Hey Hart, thinking about any ghosts?”

  Carson-the-Clever, yeah right.

  We did jumping jacks. “Switch drill!” Griswol
d shrieked.

  We went down to our knees and started the push-ups.

  “Don't be a tard Carson, you and Brett said that I was faking shit, I wasn't. I proved I'm AFTD,” I huffed out five more.

  “Switch drill!” Griswold's irritating voice rallied for the final insult.

  We stood up, time for jumping power lunges. I hated these. I put one foot out and lunged so my knee didn't pass my toe then, up, jump; other side. Talking was almost impossible.

  Carson managed, he had a lot of hot air.

  “AFTD is so rare only freaks have it. That's why they took Parker away, the military wanted to quarantine his ass, to protect everyone.”

  Carson dropping another pearl of wisdom. Like I care.

  I wasn't gonna win with him. His mind was made up.

  Hop! Switch legs.

  “Stop!” Griswold yelled.

  I turned to Carson, breathless. “Nobody'll believe you. You didn't believe until the cemetery.” He'd look like a dumb ass if he told people I was a corpse-raiser (like we were running around in droves). Carson was all about image.

  He looked thoughtful; Carson the rock-with-lips.

  “Maybe I won't tell anybody, but me and Brett might want something.”

  He looked down at me and smirked. I'd love to deck him in the face. We glared at each other and Griswold approached in a stout waddle. Why do teachers always seem to know just when something is going down?

  “Problem here boys?” Hands went to considerable hips.

  “No problem, Miss Griswold,” Carson said in the aren't-I-wonderful voice.

  She turned to me. “Is there a problem, Mr. Hart?”

  “Nah, we're just talking,” I said, she was just so... her and it wasn't good, being her.

  “Hmm, just talking. Why don't the two of you 'just talk' when you're on your time, not our mutual time, eh?” She enunciated like we were stupid. That'd be one of us.

  “Okay, Miss Griswold,” Carson said.

  She turned to me and I said the obligatory, “Yes, Miss Griswold.”

  Just as she moved out of hearing range Carson said, “Hag.”

  Griswold turned around and yelled, “Time for dodge ball, pick your teams.”

  The guys gave a collective groan and the girls didn't look any happier. Today was a class to survive. At least I got to look at Jade, the highlight of PE.

  Jonesy gave me a questioning look from across the gym, Carson and Brett were fast moving from irritating to becoming a problem. One that I planned to contain, creatively.

  Jonesy would scheme, John would deliberate and I would definitely do.

  CHAPTER 4

  “How was school today?” Mom asked, the chatty one in the family. I looked at Dad, who set his trade publication on the table.

  Reluctantly, I set down my fork even though the hamburger helper was waiting to be engulfed. I said, “Ah... these two guys and I talked and it didn't go so hot.”

  I had their full attention.

  “Which kids Caleb?” Dad asked in his reasonable way.

  “Carson and Brett.” Mom would remember them, they'd been flippin' me crap since fourth grade.

  “Oh those two,” Mom waved a dismissive hand. “They're not in your league, don't let them make you feel diminished sweet-pea.”

  Sweet pea!

  “Alicia, let's not get elitist on him here...” Dad said.

  “You might have a small point.” Mom held her index finger and thumb together in illustration of just how “small.”

  His eyes narrowed. Uh-oh, here we go, just when I though we'd get something accomplished.

  Mom held up a finger to ward off Dad's comment that hovered on his lips. “Kyle, those two,” she struggled for the right word, “buffoons, have been a nuisance for the last three years that I know of.”

  I held up five fingers.

  “Five and it's always the same thing.”

  Dad opened his mouth, but before he could say something she went on, “They don't like Caleb because of what you do honey. They feel threatened.”

  Dad turned to me. “What was the problem?”

  Dropping the Zombie Bomb didn't top my list of casual conversation but...

  “Remember the Biology thing?”

  “You passing out?” Mom asked.

  Yeah that. The frog thing.

  “Yes, we've never gotten to the bottom of those episodes,” Dad leaned back in his chair.

  I flipped my fork back-and-forth. “I sorta got to the bottom of it. I have AFTD.”

  They stared at me like I'd just sprouted a giant second head. Huh... this could be going better.

  I told them about the cemetery, the corpse and the growing tide of problems with Carson and Brett. This was a lit match to the C and B fire. They'd been itchin' to get something on me since middle school started almost three years ago, before even.

  The silence went on for a few moments, then, “Caleb, let me recap this. You,” he cleared his throat, “have caused a dead body to rise from its grave?”

  “Yes Dad, that's what I just said.”

  And he was the smart one of the family.

  Mom asked, “Is this what you were doing last night running around with the Js?”

  Yeah, running around with the Js, doin' some corpse-raising. Average night on the town, right. Out loud I said, “Well, yeah, but I didn't mean for it to go like it did.”

  “How did you mean for it 'to go'?” Dad asked.

  The whole thing went down when Brett and Carson wouldn't get off my back about fainting. AFTD was the cherry on top of their cake. They'd been up my ass forever 'cuz they could. But they couldn't quite nail their bullshit to anything. I'd been a moving target until now. John had defended me by telling them I had AFTD. I was unconscious so he improvised. I wasn't looking stupid on purpose, there was something real going on. Should've just let them think whatever. I mean, it was Carson and Brett; they're morons.

  To my parents I said, “I thought if I proved I was AFTD, that it was an ability, they'd lay off.”

  “There were precursors to this episode?”

  He had to know the why. “Yeah, it started before Science class. But, there was other stuff before, small stuff.”

  Dad's eyebrows shot up.

  “We were dissecting frogs for the class project and I started having trouble from the beginning,” I said. Now that I think about it, I'd had trouble with the Understanding Insects section too. Images of wings speared flooded my mind's eye.

  “What kind of trouble son?” Dad asked.

  “The kinda trouble that other kids notice and think you're sick or retarded.”

  “Caleb Sebastian Hart! That is not appropriate.” Mom's hands were glued to her hips. I wasn't too concerned about being politically correct.

  “Just a second Ali.” Dad seemed okay with it. “So you didn't mention these,” he hesitated, “fugues?”

  “I guess I should've told you but everything was getting weird and their voices were buzzing all the time.”

  “Whose voices?” asked Dad.

  “The frogs,” I replied logically. But frogs weren't all I heard.

  “Ah, what were the frogs... saying, exactly?” Dad's eyes burned twin holes through me.

  “Well, they're not saying words exactly but they feel things, miss things, they,” I swallowed hard because this part bothered me, “they have memories of their life before they died.” It made me sad, I opened my eyes really wide, that helped.

  Mom had the “I'm worried about you stare”. I was worried too.

  “These dead creatures are communicating with you?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, that's what AFTD is about, Dad. Before we started the dissecting, I would have a blackout, but they were short.” I thought about the roadkill, the insect dissections, shuddering.

  “Like bursts or movies playing in your head or what?” Dad asked.

  “It's like I am them.”

  Mom's hand covered her mouth.

  “... and I can see wha
t they did. When they were taken from the rivers and marshes, they felt,” I thought about the murky memories and their simple minds, “... lost. There was one frog that remembered eating a snake. They screamed when we cut them Dad,” I said in a low voice. “That's when things got really bad with Carson and Brett. They thought I was trying to suck up attention or something gay like that.”

  “Caleb...” Mom's voice warned, “homosexual reference.”

  “Mom, come on!” I said loudly. “We don't use it that way.”

  “Ali, let's stay on task here.” Dad turned to me. “Okay, so how long have you been experiencing these... episodes?”

  “Probably...” I thought about it. Easter was over and I knew then. It was around Valentine's because we have that lame winter break that's not long enough to do jack, “... a couple of months.”

  “That's a long time for symptoms you chose not to address with us Caleb.”

  I had a stab of guilt, looking down at my half-eaten food. I was used to being open with the Parental Unit, but this had a huge confusion factor.

  Mom leaned over and gave me a hug. I let myself be hugged in the good mom-smell then pulled away. I gave her a weak smile. She smiled back. “It'll be okay.”

  Adults always say that even when it's crap. My smile evaporated.

  Dad said, “This doesn't have to be a death sentence Caleb.”

  No pun intended. “You know that if they find out that I can corpse-raise I'll be rammed right into one of those spook jobs.” Goosebumps rose on my arms like boiling water. I looked from one to the other. “You remember that other kid, the corpse-raiser, Parker?”

  Mom and Dad looked at each other. He nodded.

  “He tested as a five-point on the APs. That was big news,” Mom said.

  Dad said wearily, “Jeffrey Parker, that's his name. It wasn't just AFTD, there were other classifications that he had aptitude for.” Dad raked a hand through his hair, it needed cutting too, standing in errant spikes.

  I looked at him in surprise, I thought AFTD was it for him, that he couldn't have other abilities. “And where is he now?” I asked softly.

  Mom looked at her hands while Dad looked me in the eye. “He works for the government.”