Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

Oksa hesitated before replying. She chewed a nail noisily with her head tilted to one side, then exploded:

  “I find out some extraordinary things and then everyone goes AWOL and refuses to answer my questions! The house is like a graveyard, no one speaks to me, it’s like I’m landed with this huge thing which I have to deal with all on my own. On top of that, I can do loads of stuff I want to show you… but you couldn’t care less, you haven’t even asked to see what I can do! You don’t realize that ALL THIS IS CHANGING MY LIFE! No, you adults continue whispering in corners without sparing a thought for Mum or me. You have no idea how angry I was… it was taking up so much space inside, I couldn’t breathe. I could have smashed everything without moving from my chair, just by looking around. When Mum asked if you were hiding anything from her, I didn’t have the strength to stop it: it began all on its own, I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “And how do you feel now?” asked Abakum very gently.

  “Now? You really want me to tell you how I feel?”

  “Yes,” replied Abakum simply.

  “Well, see the rain falling outside?”

  They all turned to look at the window. Heavy rain was pelting on the square. At the same time, the windows rattled at a clap of thunder.

  “I feel like the weather today: I feel like I’m drowning in tears,” said Oksa, her voice trembling. “I feel miserable. Miserable and furious. I’m so furious I could explode.”

  The four adults glanced at each other uncomfortably. They all knew that Oksa’s fragile state of mind was directly caused by their detachment and lack of consideration. And they appeared to be deeply sorry for it. They only had to look at her to see how she was struggling to control her feelings in her over-emotional state and there wasn’t anything they could do to make her feel better. The harm had been done, as Leomido had said. Oksa’s face was drawn and frighteningly pale. Her eyes were brimming with tears and she’d bitten all her nails down to the quick. Her father and loved ones suddenly realized that she’d been showing clear signs of depression for days now in the form of violent mood swings—veering from laughter to tears and from wild enthusiasm to black despair. But they were most surprised at her rage—a terrible seething rage which was completely out of character for Oksa. Pavel went over to his daughter, knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “We’re sorry,” he told her as gently as he could. “But please, don’t be angry. You’re right, we have ignored your questions, but we’ll explain what you need to know in good time. It’s still too soon…”

  “TOO SOON!” exclaimed Oksa, beside herself with rage again. “But you’ve already told me too much! You have no right to leave me standing here on my own as though it’s all beyond me!”

  With these words, she leapt to her feet in a fury and, with her fists on the table, glared at them with blazing eyes. Their silence and lack of reaction made her blood boil and she felt rage coursing through her veins and making her head spin. She’d had this feeling before when confronting the Neanderthal in the boys’ toilet and during that terrible storm a few days after school started. She looked down, trying to calm herself. No use. Alarmed, she saw the bowl of hot chocolate in front of her take off from the table and hurl itself against the wall, splattering Dragomira on its way. The bowl shattered on impact, leaving a brown trail of chocolaty milk down the wall.

  “NOW LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” yelled Oksa.

  She whirled round and bolted out of the kitchen, her heart beating frantically as the mounting pressure became unbearable. Her father rushed after her, catching up with her in the hall, where a large mirror was about to suffer the same fate as the bowl.

  “Have you decided to break everything in this house?” hissed Pavel angrily, grabbing her arm.

  “Leave me alone, Dad. All of you just leave me alone!” shouted Oksa, struggling desperately to extricate herself from her father’s vice-like grip.

  She managed to pull free so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell over, which made her even angrier.

  “Now look here,” thundered her father, “you have to calm down and listen to me! We are all going through a very difficult time and we’re all struggling to understand things. What’s happening is very complicated for us all and you’d better believe it. So please don’t make things worse.”

  “Too complicated to speak to a kid, is that what you mean? Then you should never have told me everything you did. Everything that has happened to Mum is your fault! I HATE YOU!”

  Oksa was screaming at the top of her voice. She was so angry she couldn’t breathe and she was shaking from head to foot. Leomido and Abakum were watching her sorrowfully from the kitchen, distraught at her anguish. Dragomira had shut her eyes and was standing there rigid, her face ashen. Pavel held out his hand to Oksa to help her up. She ignored it, stood up and charged up to her room, doing her utmost not to burst out sobbing. After furiously sticking her no-entry sign on the door, she threw herself onto her bed, her emotions in turmoil.

  She couldn’t help jumping when she saw the Lunatrix in front of her. The small creature was waiting quietly near her bed, his arms hanging limply either side of his podgy body.

  “Fear must be dismissed from your mind, granddaughter of my Gracious,” he said in a shrill voice. “The domestic staff of my Gracious did not premeditate to cause alarm.”

  Oksa sat up, unable to tear her eyes away from the creature.

  “I… I’m not afraid,” she stammered, “I’m just surprised. Er… can I help you?”

  The Lunatrix shook his head so wildly that Oksa was impressed.

  “The Lunatrix of my Gracious has received words in his ear which have been exchanged by the guests of this dwelling… the granddaughter of my Gracious has experienced the combustion of her heart, which was crammed with rage. This made a flood of magic and none of the Runaways have been able to build dams to contain the energy produced by this anger.”

  “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

  “Mistakes are filled with humanity and the granddaughter of my Gracious now possesses the knowledge that she harbours parts of great variety within her heart. So she must conduct her life henceforth with this compositeness of Outside and Inside. The mistake cannot be put right but she must still encounter acceptance: the granddaughter of my Gracious no longer has the ignorance of new-born babes, she has entered the vigorous age of adolescence where acts come into contact with the payment of their price.”

  “In other words, I must take responsibility for my actions,” muttered Oksa.

  “The granddaughter of my Gracious has taken enlightened receipt of the Lunatrix’s words.”

  Then, leaving Oksa deep in thought, the small creature bowed formally and backed away until he reached the door of the room and disappeared.

  22

  FILE UNDER “TOP SECRET”

  REALIZING THAT HE WAS ALSO UPSET, PAVEL POLLOCK waited a good hour before going to comfort his daughter. He sat down on the edge of her bed and very gently stroked her hair.

  “I’m really sorry, Dad, please forgive me.”

  “It’s fine, it’s all forgotten.”

  “I hope I didn’t hurt Baba with the bowl,” she continued.

  “Oh, she only had a few little pieces of china embedded in her face last time I saw her. In fact, she looked amazingly like a porcupine…”

  “Oh Dad, stop it. It’s not funny!” replied Oksa, trying not to laugh.

  He looked at her affectionately, his eyes sad despite his relief at being able to tease her again. Neither of them said anything for a moment, then Oksa broke the silence:

  “Are you going to get divorced?” she asked, staring at the wall opposite.

  “Divorced? Of course not, Oksa!” cried her father. “There’s no question of that. Don’t worry about your mother. She’s had a nasty shock but she’s pretty tough. Anyway she loves you, there’s no doubt about that. Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

  “Do you really think so?” aske
d Oksa, looking up.

  “I’m sure of it. And I apologize on behalf of all of us for not paying you enough attention. We’re going to be more on the ball from now on, I give you my solemn promise,” he added, raising his right hand and pretending to spit on the floor. “But before you go back to school tomorrow, you must promise not to use your gifts in public. You possess a power greater than you can even imagine. I understand how you might be tempted to take advantage of it, but it’ll only put you in danger.”

  “I think I understand,” said Oksa quietly.

  “I’ll give you an example which should make you realize what risks we all run if anyone slips up. And this is a valuable lesson for us all, anyway, not just for you. Do you remember Tugdual?”

  “Yes,” she replied, biting the inside of her cheek at the thought of their first meeting. “He was that boy in Baba’s apartment who was sort of out of it and didn’t say a word all evening.”

  “Yes, that’s him,” replied her father. “He’s the grandson of Naftali and Brune, Runaways from the Firmhand tribe who are your gran’s friends. When Tugdual was a child, everyone thought, wrongly, he was very shy and introverted because he was so silent and taciturn. But you can’t judge a book by its cover. In actual fact, Tugdual’s sullen expression and silence masked the fact that he was having a really bad time and I’ll explain why. His grandparents had decided to keep quiet about their origins. Their children knew nothing about Edefia for many years and, as a result, neither did their grandchildren. Now, as it happens, the Firmhands’ metabolism causes young boys to slough their skin when they reach adolescence: at a given point, scabs form over the entire surface of their body and then fall off to be replaced by an entirely new skin.”

  “Like snakes!” noted Oksa, stunned.

  “Yes, it’s quite symbolic… but, more than anything else, it’s quite scary. When it happened to their son, Naftali and Brune skilfully managed to pass off this unavoidable phase in the life of a Firmhand—even a Firmhand who doesn’t know he’s one—as some kind of allergic reaction caused by him eating something exotic. Things proved to be much more complicated for Tugdual, because no one knew that, since the age of thirteen, the boy had belonged to a group involved in witchcraft, black magic and so on, the way certain teenagers of that age tend to do. With his friends, he performed occult rites during which he concocted beverages supposed to give various powers. All of this would have been relatively harmless if not for the fact that, at the same time, Tugdual was beginning to realize that he had certain gifts: levitation, telekinesis and ultra-keen sight.”

  “Did he discover all this on his own? Like me?” asked Oksa, interrupting him.

  “Yes. And he didn’t tell anyone for two years. He attributed these powers to the beverages that he’d been making with his friends. Although he was much younger than they were, he soon became the group’s supreme leader due to his gifts. He had no idea that the beverages had nothing to do with it.”

  “Let me guess,” broke in Oksa. “I’m sure those drinks contained some really gross ingredients.”

  “You’re right,” admitted her father. “From what I know, Tugdual and his friends—his followers, I should say, because he became the leader of a real sect—drank pints of blood from sacrificed hens and goats, mixed with pounds of squashed woodlice, toad hearts, crushed rats’ livers and various dubious herbs.”

  “Stop it, Dad,” begged Oksa, feeling sick. “I think I get the picture.”

  “As you can imagine, there was nothing magical about these potions. But Tugdual was sure that he was slowly turning into an exceptional magician. Using and abusing his natural gifts during these secret ceremonies, he acquired a terrible power over his friends, who worshipped him. He made them do exactly what he wanted—morbid things like collecting earth from freshly closed graves or obtaining hairs from corpses waiting to be autopsied at the medical examiner’s office, that kind of thing. He wasn’t daunted by any experiment. With the advantage of his gifts, he indulged in all kinds of sordid wrongdoings. Tugdual’s ‘slough’ began the day after a pretty revolting evening during which he’d planned to sacrifice a black cat. After sprinkling the poor creature with one of his foul potions, it scratched him badly on his forearm—which only served him right, if you want my opinion. When he woke up the next morning, his entire body was covered with scabs and his skin was falling off in strips. Tugdual assumed there was a connection between the cat’s scratch and the state he was in. He became so terrified that he entered a deep state of paranoid delirium—don’t forget he was only fifteen. His parents were just as panic-stricken and were about to rush him to A&E. Fortunately, before doing so, they told Naftali and Brune, who firmly dissuaded them. In the days after, the whole family found out about their origins and everyone tried their best to cope with the shock. At the same time, they hastily arranged a move to Sweden. As for Tugdual, he soon acquired a new skin. However, he’d been violently disturbed by the things he’d imagined during those long unhealthy months, although he did admit that the truth had its attractions. Being a Firmhand from Edefia is much more exciting than being a macabre pseudo-magician obsessed by death and corpses. Despite that, he was still very shocked, especially as he remembered drinking all those blood-based concoctions for nothing! These shocks, combined with his natural predilection for the forces of darkness, meant that Tugdual became a danger to himself, while his family found it difficult to understand him. His parents were totally out of their depth. A month ago, the boy was entrusted to Abakum’s care since he has the skill and the instruments to treat that kind of illness. Tugdual isn’t a bad person deep down, otherwise Abakum wouldn’t have taken charge of him. I’m sure, as we all are, that he’s on the mend.”

  Oksa gave a long whistle between her teeth and nodded, looking worried.

  “That’s a terrible story… but what’s it got to do with me, Dad?”

  “What it has to do with you, scatterbrain,” replied her father, pretending to be exasperated, “is that it shows you must never abuse your power. Particularly when it’s a question of powers which should be filed under ‘Top Secret’. This story has a valuable lesson for you to learn. Trust us and listen to our warnings. Okay?”

  “Okay,” replied Oksa, gazing into the distance.

  But the next day, racing to school on her rollerblades, her mind full of these stories and images, she began fantasizing that she was flying, without having to worry about onlookers—Outsiders who wouldn’t understand. Suddenly she realized that, with the speed from her rollerblades and her ability to float above the ground, she had taken off. She’d been levitating about a foot above the pavement while rollerblading.

  “Wow, this is amazing! But I’d better come back down to earth before I get myself into trouble,” she resolved sensibly, looking around.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she forgot that resolution. The Year 9 Neanderthal was standing at the school entrance with a gang of boys who looked just about as friendly as he was.

  “Great start to the week,” grumbled Oksa. “First Mum, then a row and a fit of hysterics, and now the Neanderthal! The whole shebang…”

  She sat down on the bench on the other side of the street to remove her rollerblades and used the time to try and come up with an emergency plan which would get her safely into the courtyard.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite loser!” exclaimed the Neanderthal, blocking her way as she tried to sneak in with a group of students.

  Her attempt to slip in unnoticed had been a complete flop.

  “You give me the creeps, you know,” said the boy with a grimace, blasting hot breath in her face.

  “You give me the creeps too,” muttered Oksa, switching to Plan B.

  Saying this, she fixed her large grey eyes on him with such intensity that he couldn’t help shuddering. Oksa smiled inwardly and dropped her steely gaze until it came to rest on the Neanderthal’s tie, which immediately began to tighten very slowly around his thick neck. The boy looked at O
ksa in amazement and tried to slip a finger between his skin and the fabric, which was strangling him. The veins in his neck and temples began to bulge as he panicked and his breathing became shallow and laboured. With his eyes watering, he continued to pull desperately at his collar. But the tie tightened relentlessly, responding only to Oksa’s will. Satisfied at last, she released the pressure.

  “You really give me the creeps,” she repeated, glancing one last time at his scarlet face.

  Then she walked into the courtyard with her head held high.

  23

  NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

  GUS WAS LEANING AGAINST HIS OPEN LOCKER, DEEP IN conversation with a very pretty girl whom Oksa didn’t know. He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice his friend putting away her rollerblades in the locker next to his. Feeling hurt, Oksa went straight to the classroom. Gus joined her a few minutes later.

  “Hi there! You okay? I rang your bell as I went by, but your father told me you’d already left… where were you?”

  “I arrived just after you, but you were busy,” replied Oksa, in a tone heavy with reproach, not looking up from her desk.

  “Huh,” he sighed, shrugging with studied casualness. “So how are things with your parents?”

  “I think they’re getting divorced,” said Oksa quietly. “Mum’s gone.”

  “WHAT?”

  They couldn’t continue their conversation. Dr Bento came in and the lesson was starting. Oksa paid very little attention during the next hour. Everything was getting on top of her and she felt totally isolated. And, to cap it all, Gus was so intent on chatting up other girls that he didn’t even notice her. Was he abandoning her? The traitor. And then there was awful McGraw, who kept picking on her… things weren’t going well for Oksa-san. The break was too noisy and crowded to talk about something as private as a family crisis. Gus and Oksa tried to get some time on their own, but their friends made that impossible. When the bell rang for lunch, they raced to the cafeteria and Oksa managed to give him a broad outline of what had happened.