by Alana Siegel
Fifty years ago the building was a middle school, and therefore, it wasn’t completely void of the tools needed to teach. The science rooms had lab stations, the gym had basketball hoops, and all the classrooms were filled with student desks. The infrastructure was there, it was just dusty, rusty, and technologically ancient.
I was secretly happy when the school board ushered us into another building. After my rocky start as a member of the Gifted, I wanted to return to a comfortable schedule. However the new building promised even more than an easy routine. It meant that I never had to step foot in Ms. Magos's hidden classroom again. Just thinking about the room gave me the creeps.
Our former Global Studies teacher, Ms. Magos, was one of Prometheus’s followers. By creating the Gifted Program, a place we could share our secret and find out about others like us, Ms. Magos had deceitfully gained our trust and infiltrated our friendships. We had depended on her, and in the end she was the reason that Helen was in such danger.
Helen, Jaime, and I reached the main entrance, joining students who were unloading from the buses. Before entering the building, two sophomore boys playfully shoved each other as they stepped on the random spurts of weeds that infiltrated the broken sidewalk.
We made a point to wave at Max and Chelsea, who were hanging out on the newly designated “Smokers’ Corner.” Chelsea Steinem was Max's current girlfriend. Blonde and fierce, she had spent most of the fall making nasty comments about me under her breath. She wore a silver Gifted headband and could become invisible at a moment’s notice. The only thing that gave her away was the vanilla scent she emanated when she disappeared.
It was shocking to find out that we had too much in common to spend our time hating each other; however, even more shocking was the fact that Ms. Magos was Max's sister.
I didn’t miss Ms. Magos, but we had learned a lot from her Gifted Program. After discovering her lies, we became a united group, Helen, Jaime, Chelsea, Max, and I. Mr. Dimon was too busy with the district to carry on the Gifted Program so we took it upon ourselves to teach each other, as best we could.
Ducking into the building, I slowed my pace, and felt my heart rate speed up. I was happy to share the short ride to school with Helen and Jaime each morning, but it was the two minutes before the first bell for class that I looked forward to the most, and today, I wasn’t going to be disappointed. As my eyes followed the long row of grey lockers down the hall, I held my breath, anticipating Justin’s arrival.
* * * *
Chapter Two: Unanswered Questions
Justin’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his black, zip-up hoodie that hugged his broad shoulders and perfectly skimmed the edge of his dark blue jeans. His hair was long, falling over his eyebrows, but not completely obscuring his seafoam eyes, which reminded me of the first days of spring.
He walked briskly and with a purpose, unlike my lingering, slow pace. He gave the appearance that he had somewhere important to be, but I knew he just wanted to be anywhere but in the crowded hallway.
Cliff Adams walked next to him and was giving the details of last night’s football party. A duffle bag filled with sports gear hung over his shoulder. Even without a Gift, he was charming, athletic, and loved by everyone. He cared about Justin’s opinion and jabbered to him about everything from fast cars and mountain bikes to where to find the best meatball hero sandwiches.
Extroverted and confident in a way I’m not, being around Cliff is mesmerizing. Last fall, during the scavenger hunt, I couldn’t help myself, and I tried to emulate his charisma. His bubbly personality was engaging, and when it mixed with my Gift, I impulsively kissed him. A mistake we both regretted.
Being the forgiving and loveable guy that he is, he didn’t hold the kiss against me. The next time I saw him in class, he gathered me into a bear hug, lifted me off the ground, and teased me that he would start wearing his football helmet to block my spontaneous kisses.
He didn’t realize that before we kissed, I saved his life. On the same night Prometheus’s crew dropped by, Ms. Magos shot lightning through the air as he shimmied up the goal post. She was provoking me to use my unique Gift to charm him. Under the guise that I had a secret to tell Cliff, I compelled him to climb down. We stood there surrounded by the scent of my roses, and Ms. Magos got all the proof she needed to show the rest of Prometheus’s crew that she had found an Elste.
Stepping back in time, I felt nauseous as I remembered the week that followed Homecoming. No one at Pandora High School knew about the near-death experiences with Prometheus’s crew. The biggest drama was my kiss with Cliff and then my dance with Justin later that night. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread. I practically sprinted through the hall between classes to avoid their whispers and stares.
The gossip didn’t bother me as much as Justin’s icy behavior. He ignored my emails, calls, and texts over the weekend and didn't show up for class on Monday morning. It was my fault that he didn’t come to school, and I stared at his empty seat in Global Studies and Biology.
When Justin finally appeared during third period, his demeanor had clearly changed. His shoulders were slouched, and his eyes were vacant. He never smiled, and he never frowned, like his stoic features were frozen into an unreadable stare or sculpted into marble.
I watched him pass by with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head. He made it to class just as the bell was ringing, and he launched out of his chair the moment the period ended. This cold version of Justin was even worse than the void he left when he wasn't there at all.
I fought against the wall he put up, but whenever I built up the nerve to approach him, his body language screamed go away. The closer I got to him, the more distant he seemed.
At night, I would dream of his sad eyes or the comfort of his Gift, flowing like waves through me. I had so many questions that I yearned to have answered; why did he admit he had feelings for me only to pull away, why did he keep so many secrets, and why didn’t he miss me at all?
I thought about these things for hours each day, but mostly I just missed him. I had convinced myself that I had to accept this ending. Justin was never going to forgive me, and I had to move on. He put me through a week of hell, and I was fighting the cloud of depression that seemed to follow me. I felt disheveled and soaked with sadness.
Then without warning, he forgave me. Standing at my locker at the end of that Friday, I felt his arm slide around my waist. I knew it was Justin because I felt the slight tingle of his Gift from the touch of his skin. It was warm and soothing as it wrapped around my insides.
I didn’t turn to look at him, fearful that he would let go if I moved. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “For you, beautiful,” as he inconspicuously pressed a ring into my hand. I felt the cool surface of the silver band and as I slipped it onto my finger, I turned it so I could see it. A sparkling, colored gem rested on the crest. My mouth hung open in surprise.
“Why…,” I began to ask as my eyes burned and tears threatened. He was spinning me through an emotional spiral. I tilted my face up to meet his gaze, and I saw that the vacant look had disappeared. His seafoam eyes reflected loneliness and sorrow, and his translucent, blue aura circled us.
“Where have you been?” I asked. He touched his finger to my lips to quiet me. If he was ready to talk, then I would listen.
He grabbed the books in my arm and closed my locker. Confusion was visible on my face, but he didn’t offer any explanation.
He grasped my hand and led me down the hall, never breaking eye contact with me. I could feel the vibrations from his Gift pass through his fingers tangled with my own. I was elated. I wanted to fold myself around him so tight I could fit inside the walls he used to guard himself. I restrained myself for fear of scaring him away. He was letting his guard down in his own way. Based on the fact that I had recently violated his trust and kissed his best friend, I thought I should take what I could get.
We walked under a single metal linked chain, down a staircase that no one us
ed, and spiraled down to the basement of the building. The light disappeared behind us, but I didn’t stop him. I held on to his hand tightly, letting him lead the way. I felt at that moment like I would let him lead me any place, as long as his hand was woven with mine. Navigating the darkness easily, he didn’t slow his pace. Our steps echoed in the cylinder stairwell, but they were drowned out by the students above.
We reached the bottom and continued down a narrow hallway. Thin streaks of light from small windows far above revealed thick concrete walls, and the air felt cold and moist from being trapped underground.
Justin stopped and opened a swollen, wooden door. When it creaked and made me jump, I held on to him with both hands. He wrapped his arm around my waist again, and I was comforted by his Gift’s quiet hum.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I recognized the theatre props in the storage room. Dramatic period costumes hung on a rod, a paper tree was stashed in the corner, and stools, chairs, and tables littered the rest of the tiny room. Each step we took sent dust into the air.
Justin led me to a couch, lumpy and misshapen from overuse. We sank to the middle, making it impossible not to touch. I knew the stench was musty from years of abandonment, but I could barely smell it over my own rose scent. My heart and my Gift were uncontrollable.
With his arm around me, I snuggled into the curve of his body. He whispered, “I’m sorry,” in my ear. It was the only explanation I received for his odd behavior, but I was relieved. I was the one who had kissed his best friend.
The storage room in the school basement became “our spot,” and we continued to go there every day, hidden from the questioning eyes of everyone else at Pandora. I reveled in the affection he gave me in private and longed for him when he kept his distance in public.
As the weeks went on, I accepted the fact that our relationship was a dysfunctional secret, so long as it existed at all. In the school hallways, surrounded by so many other people, a small glance was the only connection we shared.
His body language appeared uninterested in my presence, but his eyes told a different story. He just needed to look in my direction, and I could feel my cheeks blush. With the smallest bit of attention, I was at his mercy. He had no idea the extent of the control he had over me.
* * * *
Chapter Three: Best-Kept Secrets
As I pined over Justin from the wall of lockers, Chelsea walked right into my line of vision. She busied herself with her phone, but that didn’t mean her placement wasn’t deliberate.
Ever intentionally observant, whether you were under her watchful eye or within ear shot, Chelsea Steinem didn’t miss a single detail of things you said or did. Having watched and listened, she then deduced the hidden meaning to every sigh, hair flip, and eye roll no one else noticed. At times, I believed that she had eyes on the back of her head, right behind her silver Gifted headband. On top of that, she had a brain like a vault, and she wasn’t scared to recall something embarrassing if it helped her prove a point.
After watching Justin’s blatant lack of reaction to my yearning for him, Chelsea had taken a strong stance on our relationship. She didn’t like the way he treated me, a point she made crystal clear. I shifted uncomfortably, knowing that none of my friends approved of Justin. Helen and Jaime stood next to me with disappointed looks on their faces. They saw me stand there, pitifully in love, as Justin passed by, barely acknowledging my existence.
“Liv, you need to give it a rest. It’s been six months. If he’s willing to make you suffer like this, he obviously doesn’t care,” Chelsea said without glancing up from her phone. She volunteered her blunt frankness frequently. I scowled at her, held my books to my chest, and stubbornly stuck out my chin.
I could always count on Chelsea to give it to me straight, even if it felt like a stab straight through me. I also knew I could always count on her, period.
After the ordeal with Justin and Cliff, I was ostracized at Pandora. How a kiss with one boy and a dance with another turned me into the school skank was beyond me, but I could not walk down the hall without pointing fingers and staring eyes burning into me. I wished I could become invisible, like Chelsea. Still, she volunteered her own type of defense.
Between classes, she slung her arm over my shoulder and spat witty retorts to their malicious blather. She went from being my bully to being my protector. Creating a shield was her specialty. At times like this when her honesty hurt my feelings, I reminded myself of her loyalty.
Helen put her hand on my arm and said cautiously, “Don’t get upset, Liv, but Chelsea is right. Maybe it’s time you give him a dose of his own medicine.”
Lately, Helen was extra vocal about her objection to my relationship with Justin. She worried that I would get hurt. “Justin shouldn’t be afraid to show others how much he cares for you,” Helen noted.
It annoyed me when she took Chelsea’s side. What were best friends for? Of all people, I thought she would understand the connection I had with Justin and that I couldn’t just “give it a rest.” Still, Helen was my best friend. She accepted me even though my Gift put her in constant danger. Taking a deep breath I said, “We all have secrets to keep in order to hide our Gifts, Justin keeps his personal life a secret as well. Maybe he feels safer that way. I’m lucky that he feels secure enough to even meet me covertly after school.”
She shook her head. My argument didn’t win her over. She believed there was more to the story than just wanting to keep his personal life a secret. He kept his distance from all of us in the Gifted Program, refusing to share in our friendship and our weekly meetings, despite the fiasco at Homecoming that had brought the rest of us closer. For Helen, that was enough to dislike him.
I wouldn’t get any support from Jaime. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Helen. I eyed the girls and sighed. I knew they were watching out for me, but I didn’t know how to explain my feelings for Justin. The argument was a vicious cycle, and none of us ever won.
Chelsea finally looked up, put her phone in her pocket, and adjusted her silver Gifted headband. She caught the look on my face and said, “What? Any other guy would be proud to call you his girlfriend. Don’t forget that.”
With that one small comment, she reminded me why I considered her one of my best friends. She may have been hard, opinionated, and unyielding on the outside, but she was caring on the inside. Right then my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, happy for a distraction. Helen and Jaime pulled out their cell phones at the same time.
“Oh good, you all got my text,” Chelsea said. “It’s a link to the new post on my blog about the BPA ban in baby bottles. I threw in some quotes from the public hearing that came from City Councilmember Brown’s office. She nearly knocked out the pharmaceutical and soda company reps with the reporting statistics on infant deaths and cancer rates.” She was smiling and throwing her fists as she gave us the details.
Helen, Jaime, and I tried our best to smile and encourage her. The way she fought against the world’s problems as if they were her own was impressive. If she believed in something, no one stood a chance against her.
Just then, a panting, pimple-faced freshman boy ran right through the middle of our group, effectively breaking up our conversation. Lit up with fear, he glanced over his shoulder and slammed into another group talking next to us. His books and papers scattered in a semi-circle around him. He bent down and hurried to gather them.
Hot on his tail, a giant, defensive player from the basketball team came barreling down the hall after him. The boy yelped in panic. He left his belongings in a heap on the floor, and backed against the wall.
“Come on, punk. Lunch money, now!” He shouted like a caveman. The jock slowed his pace, and there was an evil glint in his eye like he knew he’d won.
A hint of lavender rushed by. Using her Gift, Jaime vanished in a blur down the hall and took a protective stance in front of the freshman before the ogre could reach him.
When adrenaline was combined wi
th her innate need to protect people, Jaime’s Gift was ignited. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago she had trouble voluntarily turning her Gift on and off.
Helen, Chelsea, and I stood staring and worried that someone had seen her. Despite Jaime’s ease with flipping the switch for her Gift, she hardly ever used it in a crowd, so we were all surprised at her uncharacteristic behavior.
At our first meeting of the Gifted Program after Ms. Magos’s disappearance, we put together our own Gifted rules. The very first rule states that we keep our Gifts a secret. Letting other people know about our Gifts puts us all at risk. We don’t want others to take advantage of our abilities and we definitely don’t want news getting back to Prometheus.
We only allow ourselves to use our Gifts in two circumstances: to protect and to practice. Using our Gifts out of convenience is out of the question, and Jaime became the champion of upholding these rules.
She stood with her back to the quivering freshman. “Hey Rob, whatcha’ doing?” Jaime asked the burly guy with a smile like they were having a friendly conversation. Rob’s eyebrows pulled in as his brain tried to determine how Jaime appeared so quickly.
The skinny boy tried to slink away from them, but the movement caught Rob’s eye. He grunted once, and said, “Little Petey owes me money!” He thrust his pointer finger at the freshman who shuddered under Rob’s stare.
Jaime stepped closer to Rob and asked, “Big game tonight; ya ready for Sparta’s star forward player?” She gave him a friendly punch and grabbed his interest. He returned the gesture with a boastful smile and an enthusiastic head nod, and she knew she had succeeded in distracting him. We watched Petey escape down the hall, forgotten by Rob.
“You like pizza, right? I’ll buy a pie, and we can talk about the game,” Jaime told Rob. A content gurgling noise escaped from his mouth. She patted him on the back as she told him to wait just a minute, and walked back to our group. She looked expectantly at us like we might challenge her decision to use her Gift, but we all kept quiet. She held unspoken authority, and we rarely questioned her decisions.
