by Alana Siegel
Just as I was about to jump from a squirrel rustling in the bushes, Ms. Magos appeared through the front door of the school. Sometimes my imagination gets the best of me.
“Oh good, you girls are here. Come on inside. Let’s go to my classroom.” She held the door open for us, and we entered the school. Light seeping out from underneath the classroom doors stretched across the floor and dimly lit the halls. I never realized how few windows there were in the hallways.
Ms. Magos’s classroom was down the hall, and I could see the glow from her open door. She walked along my left side, the heels of her black designer pumps clacking on the tile floor.
We made it to the end of the hall and into her classroom. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the classroom looked the same as it did during the day. The rows of desks were orderly. The windowsill was covered with extra text books. The notes from the last class of the day were on the chalk board. Still, we stood awkwardly in the doorway.
“Girls, help me grab some books.” Ms. Magos walked into the closet and turned on the light. We followed her toward the small book shelf in the back.
The three of us barely fit. Ms. Magos’s coats hung on a metal bar on the left side. Hanging closest to us was a puffy black down jacket that took up most of the space. Behind the down jacket was a yellow raincoat and a lightweight spring coat. A dozen others continued along the wall. It looked like she had every season, every design, and every color covered.
Beneath the jackets was a shoe rack with an immense selection of high heels. It was a dream collection, and I ogled the stacks of shoes for a few seconds before turning my attention back to Ms. Magos.
On the right side of the closet were cube-shaped cubbies that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Notebooks, pencils, calculators, flash memory sticks, and other school supplies overflowed from each compartment. Confiscated cell phones were scattered throughout the supplies.
Piled along the back wall were mountains of novels, lab books, and text books. There was an opening between the books and the wall, and a sliver of light peaked through. It looked like the books were quickly thrown in front of something, to hide it from being easily seen.
Ms. Magos interrupted my survey of our surroundings by saying, “Olivia, I saw the kickline perform at the game the other day. The routine looks great! Do you think the team is ready for halftime at the homecoming football game?” Ms. Magos lightly touched my arm and then turned around to pass us some books. Her small chat put me at ease, which no doubt was her objective, and I grabbed the books to pile them behind me.
“I hope so. We have a few more practices before the homecoming game,” I said. Helen and I paid little attention to the actual football game, preferring to obsess over the details of our halftime routine. However, most fans did the opposite and used that time between the halves of the game to run to the bathroom or grab something at the concession stand rather than watch our performance. I was impressed that Ms. Magos even noticed when the kickline team performed. I glanced up at her, noting her expression was warm and friendly. She stacked four textbooks with pictures of globes on their cover in my hands and instructed me to place them in the space behind me.
“Jaime, did your softball team beat Sparta high school the other day? I heard their pitcher is a shoe-in for a scholarship to college for her fastballs,” Ms. Magos asked. She turned her attention to Jaime as she answered.
Was it my imagination or did the closet get longer and longer as she piled books in our hands? It was the stacks of books that made the closet appear deceptively small. At first glance, the lots seemed unorganized and haphazard, but when I looked closer I realized they were organized by size and subject. The largest books were on the bottom, smaller books on top, and the subjects were lumped together from left to right.
Distracted by Ms. Magos’s easy conversation, we continued putting books in piles on the floor. She pushed aside some coats and a pair of shoes and passed us more books. I noticed that despite all the subjects of books, she only gave us Global Studies textbooks from the heap on the left side of the closet. She was clearing a path.
Handing the last pile to Jaime, Ms. Magos said, “Now that we are done cleaning out my closet, it is time for a little history lesson. Let’s get right to the point of our meeting.” The closet had expanded to multiple times its original size. Walking through the entrance we just cleared, we saw old desks scattered all over the room and shelves filled with dusty books outlining the back walls. There was practically enough space to teach another class.
Nothing about the room was particularly special. It was an old room that hadn’t been used in awhile. What was interesting was the buzz I felt throughout the room.
After the initial excitement of finding out there was a hidden room, I was hit with one more shock. This one wasn’t as thrilling and the air rushed out of my lungs. There were other people already present, occupying desks.
“I let Max and Chelsea in the room earlier,” Ms. Magos said. They were the last two people in the school that I wanted to see.
Clearly unhappy to spend another minute in school, they both sat with their arms crossed over their chest. I assumed they wanted to hurry the meeting along since neither of them acknowledged my presence or stopped me from joining them. Feeling very weak, I was thankful that Ms. Magos stopped handing us books.
She piled a few books in front of the entrance we just passed through, turned around, and smiled her usual calming smile. She had a story-telling look on her face that she often used during class. It marked the beginning of an interesting discussion and it immediately quieted us. Jaime and I sat in two empty desks, ready to listen. I inched as far away from Max as possible while still managing to keep an eye on Chelsea. Ms. Magos cleared a spot on the desk in the front of the room and waited for our anticipation to build before beginning.
“Some people say a special breed of the human race was born thousands of years ago. It was a privileged breed of influential humans who had abilities to do incredible things like change the weather, move mountains, and even influence other living creatures. They were strong and magnificent, and as they grew in number, each generation practiced and perfected their Gift. We are meeting tonight so I can tell you about this group of people called The Gifted.” There was no preparation or introduction; instead Ms. Magos began telling the story with a subtle rhythm to her rich voice that drew us in. I felt like a child listening to stories over a camp fire.
“Many used their Gifts to solve the world’s problems: cure sickness, pursue righteous causes, and create peace. These were moments when the power was used for serenity,” Ms. Magos looked wistful.
“However, the group grew to be powerful and boastful. To prove their prowess, the Gifted projected their power into well-known, iconic landmarks; the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Mausoleum of Maussollos at Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes, and the Lighthouse of Alexandria. The seven ancient wonders of the world,” Ms. Magos explained. I recognized the ring of authority in her voice. The words poured out with feeling.
“Competition, greed for power, and jealousy are natural human traits, and the Gifted were far from immune to these qualities. In fact, the saturation of power amplified these negative attributes. The clan caused large-scale destruction, tsunamis and hurricanes, and so the Gifted Wars began in the shadows of human history. At the end of the wars, all but one of the original wonders of the ancient world, the Great Pyramid of Giza, was destroyed.” Ms. Magos looked at each of us, holding our gaze for a few seconds before moving on. She was captivating.
“Since the Gifted had passed all their power into physical symbols to create the greatest and most powerful icon, complete destruction of these landmarks meant the loss of their Gifts. In a last attempt to preserve their Gifts, they saved as much of their crumbling icon as they could. They took the remains and transformed it into jewelry.” The necklace around my neck suddenly fe
lt heavy.
Ms. Magos continued, “The abilities weren’t as strong as the powers honed by the original Gifted, but those who wore the jewelry were able to affect the environment around them. If you step back and take a look at our history, you will see many examples of this, both good and bad.” Ms. Magos paused in her story. I was awestruck.
“Did you really convince us to come back to school at night to tell us a fairytale?” Max said the words calmly, but you could see the anger beginning to form behind them.
“I’d like to hear the rest of the story before you judge it,” Jaime said. Max sat back in his chair.
The storytelling smile never left Ms. Magos’s face. “The jewelry was passed down through time and you come in contact with this special breed every day.”
“Who cares about breeds? You told me that we would be working on a project for the modern day feminist,” Chelsea complained and threw her hands up in disgust.
Ms. Magos wasn’t ready to be sidetracked, “I’ll be more specific: the four of you, as well as I, are a part of the Gifted,” she stated it as a fact, pulled out a keychain from her pocket, and waited for our reaction.
Light-headed, I stared at the key chain in disbelief. Glistening metal reflected the light in the room. The braided chain matched my necklace and Jaime’s bracelet. If I weren’t already sitting down, I might have fainted. Once again, the group was silent. I wasn’t ready to deny Ms. Magos’s assertion, but I was unsure of how to respond. Luckily, Jaime wasn’t as frozen or speechless.
“What…kind…of…power is this Gift?” Jaime asked. She gulped as if the words had trouble passing a lump in her throat. For the first time since we walked into the room, Ms. Magos’s smile faded. The look on her face was not reassuring, and goose bumps rose on my arms.
The drop in temperature occurred quickly. It caused my heart to speed up, and my breathing to get heavy. I could see my smoky breath in front of me. Traitor to my emotions, it gave away my attempted nonchalance at staying calm. I was glad my hands were already clasped in my lap, and I rubbed them together for warmth. I looked down at the small amounts of frost that began to crystallize on the piles of books around me and became very aware of the walls of the room.
Although Jaime’s arms were tight across her chest to protect her from the sudden chill, she was sitting on the edge of her seat, intrigued.
“With my Gift I am able to affect the temperature of air masses around me,” Ms. Magos said.
“We can do that?” Jaime asked.
“Come on, lady. This has to be a joke,” Max shouted while glancing around the room.
Ms. Magos walked over to Jaime, crouched down, and cradled her bracelet. As she passed, I got a whiff of lemon.
I looked down at my own necklace and tried to remember causing any atmosphere changes in the past few days. I was definitely skeptical.
“The jewelry is passed down through each family, oftentimes skipping many generations. When the Gift considers you a worthy recipient of its powers, and the circumstances demand it, your jewelry finds you. It has happened to the four of you.” She paused to let this information sink in.
“The Gift gives you the ability to influence the environment around you. It is specific to each person and an extension of who you are and how you behave,” Ms. Magos continued. I watched Jaime’s eyes widen.
“And the scent released when the Gift is used is also specific to each person. You smell like lemon,” Jaime said confidently. The room was perfectly still.
Ms. Magos broke the awkward silence, “Yes, Jaime, you are correct. When I use my Gift, I smell like lemon. We all leave a mark, a trace of ourselves, when we use our Gift. Women smell like a particular personal fragrance and men glow an individual color.”
If I believed the story, that would explain Max’s red hue. I looked up at him. He was looking directly at me. Something had changed. I stared into his sad and apologetic eyes.
I shook my head and looked down at my hands in my lap. Ms. Magos walked back to the desk at the front of the room, and resumed leaning on it.
“After the Gifted Wars, a governing body for the Gifted, called the Meta, was created to limit the damage. The Gifted were monitored by agents from the Meta. All excess jewelry, or jewelry from an unworthy Gifted person, was stored in the last standing wonder of the ancient world, the Pyramid of Giza,” Ms. Magos explained. Jaime seemed thoughtful and Chelsea’s face was blank, hiding her reaction. I kept quiet.
“The Meta created laws with the main purpose being to protect others from the abuse of the Gift. You cannot expose the Gifted to those who do not know of our existence. Please, do not discuss this with anyone else.
“I am coming to you as an agent of the Meta. You can think of me as your guidance counselor through the transition and you can think of our meetings as an extracurricular activity,” Ms. Magos said, clapping her hands together with excitement.
“We’ll call it the Gifted Program, and we’ll learn about our heritage and your Gifts,” Ms. Magos concluded. Max sat up straight, reacting to Ms. Magos’s comment.
“Extracurricular activity?! You mean we’ll have extra assignments, and we’ll have to come back here at night? Forget it.” With the practiced patience of a teacher, Ms. Magos simply nodded her head and kept the smile on her face.
“In fact, your first assignment is to learn about yourself and your Gift. You must begin honing your Gift. Practice your skills. Learn what your boundaries are. We’ll meet back here in a week to discuss what you have learned.” With that, Ms. Magos pointed out that it was late, and we probably had a lot to think about so we better get home. It was the first thing she said all night that I completely agreed with.
* * * *
Chapter Ten: Becoming a Believer
I kicked my foot into the dirt on the edge of the track. The large oval outlined the football field and two goal posts. From where I was standing, I could see the back exit of the school. Through the windows that were symmetrically lined along the brick walls, I watched students sitting in classrooms.
I longed to be inside learning about the Pythagorean Theorem, photosynthesis, or some other bland subject, but instead I was standing outside in the cold for gym class.
Dragging my feet, I climbed the bleachers. I sat in silence on the second row, removed from the rest of the class while I waited for the agony to begin.
I heard the rustle of books and papers beneath the bleachers. “We’re not going to the Gifted Program anymore. It’s a silly club that we don’t need to be a part of.” I recognized Chelsea’s voice echoing below.
“Fine, Chels. If you don’t want to go, don’t go, but the next time Ms. Magos has a secret meeting, I'll be in that creepy hidden classroom,” Max replied.
“I don’t understand you,” Chelsea shouted. “One minute you are screaming at Ms. Magos that the whole idea is crazy, and the next minute you are telling me that you’re still going to her stupid meetings.” I heard her stomp her feet in frustration. “You only want to go to be with Olivia!” Chelsea accused. I didn’t move a muscle in fear that they would find out that I was listening in to their conversation.
“Chelsea, I have my reasons, and I don’t need to share them with you,” Max yelled back.
“Fine, then I am going also,” Chelsea said. I heard the sound of feet shuffling in the dirt as she emerged from beneath the bleachers in the opposite direction of the track. She obviously wanted to have the last word.
Max let out a frustrated grunt, and a few minutes later, he stepped out from the end nearest our class. I watched him approach the edge of the group, blending in without actually talking to anyone. The gym teacher was making his way to his students as well, but I delayed making my way over, choosing to sit on the bleachers with my own quiet thoughts.
Max and Chelsea were both frustrated, but frustrated didn't even begin to explain how I felt. I wanted to disappear into the background and forget about everything. I tried to clear my head of all the chaos and concentrate on blan
k, open spaces.
Unfortunately, the welcomed silence was short-lived. I groaned when I saw Jaime walking toward me and tried to look as busy as possible. Today of all days, I just wanted to blend into my surroundings.
As if Ms. Magos’s extracurricular activities weren’t enough to worry about, I spent the morning dodging funny looks from the kids who passed me in the hallway. I wasn’t talking about a quick peek when they thought I wasn’t looking. They were blatantly staring. I was starting to worry this was becoming routine for me.
“Olivia, can I talk to you? Privately? I need to talk to you about last night,” Jaime said while wrapping one arm around my shoulder to pull me away. Seeing that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, I obliged and got up from my seat on the bleachers. I couldn’t hide from her forever.
She glanced over my shoulder once and then looked me in the eye. She said, “I know it might seem far-fetched, but you can’t ignore the power you feel.”
Lying awake in bed last night, thinking through every detail, I didn’t find any trace of reality in the story. After hours of tossing and turning, I shoved all thoughts of her fairy-tale to the back of my mind.
I shrugged my shoulders, feigning indifference. The problem was that I couldn’t deny that I felt my pulse quicken when Ms. Magos showed us her matching key chain. Still, the story she told was odd and eerie. I only had eleventh grade knowledge of world history, but certainly a secret that big would have been exposed to the public long before we came along.
Standing on the edge of the track and looking into Jaime’s pleading eyes, I remained silent.
“What about the change of temperature in the room…” Jaime started talking again, but I had already looked away and was distracted by two guys making their way to the track. I heard Jaime speak about Ms. Magos’s lemon scent, but her voice sounded far away.
My attention was being pulled by someone else. I squinted down the field. I watched the guys make their way over the blacktop. I was unable to make out any details of their faces, but that wasn’t what caught my eye.
