A Chosen Life

by K. A. Parkinson

  The second the Ninth neared the front of the school, a group of sporty-looking guys walked over. A tall, buff redhead reached out and ripped the backpack off the Ninth’s shoulder, guffawing stupidly as he walked away. The last kid to leave the bus, an extremely short boy, leaned down and helped the Ninth retrieve his books.

  “Moron.” Macy muttered. “He’s the freakin’ Ninth. He could totally annihilate those guys. Why doesn’t he kick their butts?” She shook her head and looked down at Bastian.

  Bastian’s eyes snapped open and a strange look crossed his face. “Odd.”

  “What’s odd?” When he didn’t respond, Macy waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hello? What’s odd?”

  “There is a strange energy surrounding the Ninth. Someone is trying to block him from my sight—but the power is weak, weakening every second in fact. And that small boy with the Ninth?”

  “Yeah?”

  Bastian pushed off from the truck and climbed back into the driver’s seat. “He is no boy. He is a Doogar—at least eighty years old if my calculations are accurate, based on his features.”

  Macy jumped off the tire and stuck her head through the window. “A Doogar? Wait, aren’t they those dudes who live underground and make stuff out of mud and metal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would he be here?”

  “That is a very good question.”

  Macy waited for him to elaborate, but he only continued to stare in the direction of the school where the Ninth and the Doogar guy had disappeared.

  Prickles began to move up her arms. “Okay, so now what do we do?”

  Bastian turned towards her—the serious look on his face brought on another wave of chills.

  “You will wait, while I watch.” He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes.

  o o o

  Tolen held open his backpack by the now torn handles and passed his books onto the shelf in his locker, his heart still pounding from the short confrontation with Jeff. Man, he hated that guy.

  “He’s just jealous Tolen.” Dane spoke from beside Tolen’s elbow.

  Tolen snorted.

  “Seriously, he hates the fact that the girls stare at you.”

  Tolen rolled his eyes.

  “Well, they do.” A hint of jealousy leaked into Dane’s tone.

  “Because I’m the town freak, remember?” Tolen slammed his locker shut and turned to face his friend.

  “They might not really think that. Why don’t you ever talk to them?”

  Tolen turned and started toward his first hour class. “I’m too busy.” He avoided Dane’s eyes.

  Dane raised his voice. “You have days off you know.”

  “Yeah, and they’re spent taking care of my sick mother.” He walked into his English class without a glance back, not wanting to see the sympathy he knew would be on his friend’s face. He didn’t like being rude to Dane, who was a perpetually positive person, but he’d touched a nerve. Dane wouldn’t understand how much it bothered him that no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t be more like the kids around him.

  He took his usual seat at the back of the class, opened his tattered copy of The Silmarillion, and pretended to read while his classmates laughed, joked, and flirted around him. He tried to focus on Tolkien’s world while they discussed dates, the upcoming graduation party at the student body president’s house, jobs, and college plans.

  But his emotions were too chaotic to ignore the unfairness. He clenched his teeth as he listened to their carefree lives. What would it be like to laugh with them? To wonder which of the girls he would ask to the party? To care only about his next date, or where he would go to college?

  His hands shook and he took a deep breath. No, instead he had to worry about putting food on the table, paying rent, and oh yeah, not suddenly losing control and showing everyone in this room how he could somehow get the trees outside the window to smash through the brick wall and squeeze the life out of any one of them.

  Thankfully, before his emotions could send his abilities into uncontrolled action, the bell rang, the kids settled in their seats, and Mrs. Kay demanded their attention.

  Tolen slouched lower in his seat as his heart regained its normal rhythm and he prepared himself for another day of pretending to fit in, wishing there was some way he actually could.

  Chapter Five

  Found

  Three Days Later . . .

  Tolen carried the last case of potato chips into the grocery store. “Where would you like this one Mr. Grange?”

  “Just leave it by the door,” his boss called from behind a stack of soup-cans. He walked out wiping his hands on his apron. “Thanks for the help, Tolen. I’ll put them in the display tomorrow. You can go home now.”

  “Are you sure? I can stay and finish the inventory with you.” Tolen pulled the rag off his shoulder and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

  Mr. Grange’s eyebrows creased with concern. “You’ve already worked extra hours on all your shifts this week. You have school tomorrow.”

  Tolen didn’t want his boss to know just how bad things were getting at home—it was hard enough to keep secrets in a town like this one, but they were in trouble. He cleared his throat and avoided the older man’s eyes. “It’s really no big deal, sir. I finished all my finals and we’re just getting yearbooks tomorrow. They don’t take attendance the last couple days of school. I can go late.” No need to tell him he did not intend to even go, or get a yearbook. His picture wouldn’t be in it. He was always absent on picture day, and he wouldn’t have anyone but Dane to sign it anyway.

  Mr. Grange raised an eyebrow and harrumphed.

  Tolen dropped his eyes to his feet, shoved his fists into his pockets, and swallowed hard. “The truth is sir, the bank had to lay my mom off yesterday, she hasn’t been feeling well, and . . . I was thinking that now that I’m done with school, maybe you c-could use me full-time?”

  Tolen held his breath as Mr. Grange pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his face. His deep-set brown eyes were sad. The folds of skin around his mouth jiggled as he spoke, like an old basset hound’s. “Alright, you can stay and help me. Heaven knows your body can handle the lifting better than mine.” He placed a fatherly hand on Tolen’s shoulder. “You can start full time next week, but don’t give up on college or finding a better future than working here, Tolen. You have a lot on your plate right now, but never stop trying for something bigger. You’re a good kid. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.”

  Tolen wished it were that simple. He forced a grateful smile and shook the old man’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  At eleven o’clock they finally finished and Mr. Grange followed Tolen out the back door to lock up. “Would you like a ride home?”

  “No thanks, sir. It’s a nice night, I’ll walk.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Tolen waved goodbye and set off across the street.

  A soft breeze cooled the sweat on his neck and swayed the rusty swings in the deserted park. Their ancient chains squeaked softly as he passed. He felt a lot better than he had that morning—he’d hardly slept last night after his mother tearfully confessed that she had been fired. With the extra hours Mr. Grange had allowed, he should have enough on his paycheck to cover the rest of next month’s rent and buy some groceries. He was truly grateful to the old man for hiring him full-time. He didn’t think it was a good idea for his mother to get a job until she got better. He just hoped she would get better . . . soon. A wave of panic rolled over him; she was nearly out of the herbs she used to make her tea—he didn’t even want to think about how bad she might get without her tea. Maybe tomorrow he’d see if she was up for a trip to the health food store in Price.

  “Hey Parks.” Jeff Macro stepped from a clump of trees into Tolen’s path, clutc
hing a can of beer in his fist—apparently he’d decided to celebrate the end of the school year early. Six more of his flunkies circled around the two of them.

  Tolen looked at their drunken faces and sighed. His mother was going to have a fit. She’d know he lied about Principal Stoker’s warning.

  “Thought you could get away with your little stunt, did you?” Jeff pushed a hand through his red hair and tossed his beer can to the ground, splattering Tolen’s sneakers.

  Tolen kicked the can aside, clenched his teeth, and fought to stay calm.

  “Idiot thinks he’s tough, Jeff. I say he needs to be taught where the real muscle is in this town.” Someone shoved Tolen from behind.

  “Yeah Jeff, punks like him don’t got no business breathin’ an s-stuff,” another slurred. He shoved Tolen from the side.

  “Shut up man, you’re wasted!” Jeff scowled at him, momentarily distracted from the fight.

  “Go on Jeff, put your anger where it should be man. Kick the loser’s butt.”

  “Yeah, Jeff.”

  “Do it, man.”

  Jeff started to circle Tolen, hopping from foot to foot like a boxer in a ring.

  He looked so stupid Tolen couldn’t help but grin, despite what he knew was coming.

  “What’s so funny, loser?” Jeff sauntered forward until he stood nose to nose with Tolen.

  Tolen’s hands curled into fists but he kept them in his pockets. “I have a request before you beat me up.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  Tolen pulled a pack of mints from his pocket. “Please? Your breath smells like sun baked road-kill.”

  Jeff’s fist slammed into Tolen’s nose snapping his neck back. Blood ran down his face and the back of his throat. His eyes watered and the air shifted—the trees were reacting.

  No . . . . Tolen had no idea what the trees might do, or even how to stop them.

  Someone grabbed Tolen’s arms and yanked them behind his back. Jeff threw another punch to his stomach and Tolen doubled over gasping for air. He focused hard on controlling his temper as the beating continued.

  He needed to move all conscious thought into the deepest, most quiet part of his mind, a place he had found by accident years ago. Once there, it seemed as if he floated outside his body. He was still aware of what went on around him, but he became detached, only an observer.

  He focused on that place now and felt the pull. His body went limp. He knew someone held him up, but he could no longer feel any pain. He could see in his mind’s eye the group surrounding him. Their intoxicated bellows were muffled, their fierce expressions almost comical. He started to wonder how long it would take Jeff to decide he’d had enough when the tenor of the conversation taking place around him sent him back into full consciousness with a jolt.

  “Dude, you ever seen anything like that?” Someone asked.

  “No way man . . . ”

  “What is he?”

  What are they talking about? Tolen focused on coming back to his senses and every ache in his body hit him with force. A couple ribs had to be broken—each breath felt like knives stabbing through his chest.

  He searched back through his thoughts for the incident that had brought on the confused shouting. The picture stayed hazy, but he could see that someone, he wasn’t sure who, had lifted Tolen’s right eyelid—probably checking to see if he was still conscious—and then jumped back, stumbling over his own feet.

  Shocked back to the present Tolen blinked and felt his blue eye dilate. The contact! Crap!

  “I don’t know what you are freak, but I promise I’ll knock whatever it is right out of you!” Jeff cocked his bloody fist back and Tolen quickly closed his eyes.

  “NO!”

  Dane? Tolen’s head snapped up. Sure enough, Dane ran toward them as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

  “Dane, get out of here!” Tolen tried to shout, but the blood in his mouth muffled the sound.

  “Well look-y what we got now boys. Two freaks for the price of one!” Jeff dropped his fist and the crowd parted to let Dane in beside Tolen.

  Dane’s face was covered with sweat and his small chest heaved. “Leave him alone. You stupid idiots need to find a new hobby.”

  Tolen struggled for breath. “Dane, just get out of here. I can handle this.”

  “Oh, would you listen to that.” Jeff lifted a hand to his mouth, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Parks is trying to protect his little freak. Don’t worry Parks. We have special plans for your boyfriend. Wonder how fast those fat legs can run when they’re dragged behind my truck?”

  The crowd laughed again and Tolen’s heart began to pound so hard it hurt.

  “Or maybe we’ll just try to give him a little face lift like the one you got tonight. Dude, he’s so ugly I bet his father’d pay us for takin’ him off his hands.”

  Fire seemed to rise from Tolen’s toes and consume every part of his body. “Touch him and I’ll kill you.” The words left his mouth before he could think to stop them.

  Blinding white light sheeted across his blue eye until he could see everything surrounding him as if it were midday instead of the middle of the night. His arms shook and his blood pulsed hard and fast through his veins.

  The trees surrounding them began thrashing their branches so wildly that chunks of bark rained down on their heads.

  Jeff and his friends started shouting all at once. A thick branch swept down knocking Jeff off his feet and his head hit the pavement with a sickening crack. Tolen’s arms were released as the boy holding him was hoisted into the air by his ankles and lifted screaming into the trees. The rest of Jeff’s cronies ran away yelling, tossing their beer cans behind them.

  Tolen leaned over and tried to suck in air. His ribs burned and his lungs felt like they were in a garbage crusher. “Can’t breathe . . . ”

  The guy fell out of the tree and landed with a thud.

  “Tolen?” Dane grabbed Tolen’s arm and everything went black.

  “Tolen? Tolen, wake up.”

  Someone shook his shoulder. He wished they would stop.

  “Come on man, you’ve been out for hours.” Dane’s desperate voice sounded far away.

  Images flickered like the broken pieces of a dream before Tolen’s eyes—he jerked upright and the room spun.

  “Whoa buddy, take it easy.” Dane’s anxious face glimmered in the lamplight.

  Tolen looked around. He was sitting on his bed. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was 2:00 a.m.

  “Dane? What’re you doing here? What happened? Did I . . . ?” His voice drifted off as the memories came back. It felt like days since he’d left Grange Grocery.

  “Did you get the crap kicked out of you by Jeff? Yeah. And did you annihilate them by calling the trees on them? Um . . . yeah, that too.” Dane shifted on the edge of the bed, relief mingled with envy on his face.

  Tolen’s stomach twisted. “Did I . . . ? How bad are they?”

  “They’ll live.” Dane sounded disappointed, not at all shocked by what he’d witnessed. A grin worked its way onto his chubby face.

  Tolen’s suspicion rose. “Dane?”

  Dane sighed. “Look, there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

  “I’d say.” More memories returned and Tolen realized he should be in agony. His heart started to thud in panic. “Dane, my mom saw you bring me home, didn’t she?” Of course she did, she always knew when he lost control.

  “Tolen, I—”

  “Crap Dane! She can’t take any stress right now!” It wasn’t Dane’s fault. It was his and he knew it. He started to get up but Dane put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “Tolen, I tried to stop her. I know she’s too weak to be using her gift, but she wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t about to let you die.”

&nbs
p; “Good grief, I wasn’t about to die! Where is she? And how do you know about what she can do?” Anger trickled through his veins like poison.

  “Tolen you’ve got to calm down. I promise to explain. Your mom’s fine. She’s resting on the couch. I made her some Lucid tea. She’s been asleep almost as long as you have.”

  Tolen rubbed his temples and tried to push the anger deep before he lost control again and hurt his friend. “She’s okay?”

  Dane’s head bobbed. “Healing you took a lot out of her, but she’s one determined Sphere.”

  “Huh?” Tolen’s head felt as if someone was beating a hammer against an anvil inside it.

  “Nothing.”

  Tolen tried to remember what happened after the fight, but he couldn’t. “How did you get me home?”

  “You walked—you were incoherent, but you walked. Don’t ask me how.” Dane was grinning again.

  Tolen looked into his friend’s face. It was as if he were seeing Dane for the first time. He seemed . . . older, different. He no longer looked like the kid who loved video games, popcorn, and making Tolen laugh. Did he even know the real Dane? An uncomfortable lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, but the betrayal he felt was evident in his tone. “I’m going to check on my mom and then you and I are going to have that chat.”

  Dane’s face fell as Tolen got up and left the bedroom.

  His mom was sleeping on the couch, her skin dewy with sweat.

  He touched her forehead—it felt like wet ice.

  “Mom?” He shook her lightly. “Mom?”

  “Hmm? Tolen?” Her eyes flashed to his face. “You’re okay.” She lifted her hand to weakly stroke his cheek.

  “Mom . . . ” He knelt by her side and each one of her ragged breaths cut into his guilty conscience. “Mom, I’m so sorry I lost control. You shouldn’t have healed me. I would have been fine in a couple days.”

  She coughed. “You are my son. I won’t see you suffer.”

  He clenched his teeth. “I wasn’t suffering.”

  She placed an icy finger to his lips. “Uh-huh. How are you feeling now? I healed your cracked ribs and the deepest cuts on your face, but left the outside bruising for the witnesses. Dane said they were all so drunk it’s unlikely they’ll remember exactly what happened.” She gave a half smile, but Tolen knew it didn’t matter how he looked. There was no way they could stay here after what he’d done—drunken version or not, it would raise suspicion. Rumors traveled fast here in the middle of nowhere.