Knowledge: The Fifth Division Saga: Book 1 (3 page)

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It can be.”

I still strode behind my brother but now with an open mouth and wide eyes. “You have issues.” I finally responded. I heard a quiet chuckle from ahead and saw Caspian’s head shake, causing his black locks to sway in the ocean breeze. He fell back into step with me and nudged his shoulder against mine forcing me to misstep and trip.

“Yes, I believe I do,” he replied with a broad smile on his face. I was glad to see him happy, especially since our party was only a couple hours away and nobody liked a sour host, “I also think it runs in the family.
”

I threw a hand over my heart in fake astonishment and came to a stop in front of a modest two story home. Painted sky blue with cracked white trim that had been worn down over the years from the incessant blustering that accompanied the nearby ocean. A proud American flag hung from a perch by the garage. The flower bed that decorated the front door was in full bloom, glowing with the whole color spectrum. I breathed in through my nose and caught a whiff of the cinnamon rolls that I had requested be put in by one o’clock. I sniffed again.
Are they burning?

“Home sweet home.” Caspian murmured.

Chapter 2

“Oh! Shoot, shoot, shoot…” The mutterings could be heard all the way from the foyer. Caspian and I exchanged smirks before entering the kitchen. I made a quick sweep around the living room, making sure all of the decorations were just as I had left them. Yes, all was well. I grinned with contentment before pivoting to face the craziness that was the kitchen.

My mother flew around the island in the center of the kitchen. Black smoke snaked out of the oven, bringing along the stench of burnt cinnamon rolls with it. My mother snatched a pair of green oven mitts from the counter and dashed back to the vengeful oven. She flung the oven door open and thrust her protected hands in to grab the tray. She yanked it out of the scorching prison and let the baking sheet clatter onto the counter-top. A dozen cinnamon rolls, burnt to crisps, crumbled at the impact. Caspian snorted.

My mother whirled to look at me, her face scrunched in despair, “Sweetheart, I am
so
sorry! I think I may have put them in for too long…and maybe set the temperature too high. Oh good gracious!” I smiled as the Irish-like lilt grew more pronounced. I had once asked my mother where she was originally from and after a short hesitation she replied that she grew up in Ireland. But when I asked about her heritage and whatnot she immediately changed the topic.

“Don’t worry about it Mom,” I reassured her, “there will be plenty of other things to eat.”

She nodded but the worried look had not yet left her eyes. She glanced at the small clock that hung over the sink and threw her hands up to her face, rubbing her eyes. “I have to head to the hospital soon; Bram should be home shortly to help finish preparations.”

“Is he picking Iris up?”

Bram was mine and Caspian’s stepdad and Iris’s biological father. I never met my true father, who died shortly after Caspian and I were born, but I still felt a sort of allegiance to him.  Bram came into our lives when Caspian and I were five. I remembered a knock on our door late one night and my brother and I crept down the stairs to see who the visitor was. At the time, we lived in Olympia, Washington, a relatively small city an hour south of Seattle. I can recall my mother cautiously opening the door to reveal Bram, his dark brown hair plastered to his skin from the violent downpour and his light green eyes blazing. My mother had stared at him for a moment before bursting into tears and flinging herself into his arms. Soon enough, they were married and happy as could be and, about a year after he showed up on our doorstep, precious little Iris was born. Neither Caspian nor I considered him our father, but over the years we came to like him well enough. 

“Yes, yes.” My mother’s mind wandering far away in her exhaustion. She kissed us both on the tops of our heads, Caspian having to lean over due to his height, and grabbed her keys and coat before sprinting out the door. The house sat silent for a few blissful moments, neither of Caspian nor I wanting to break the temporary peace. But I knew it could not last. My phone lit up, spouting out a ridiculous dubstep song at an obnoxiously loud volume. I allowed the song to play for a few seconds, relishing in the annoyance it brought forth in Caspian, before eventually answering.

It was Kelsey, “Hey, need some help?”

I glanced around the room, taking in the fully decorated living space and the abundance of food and drinks that Caspian was now setting out, “Actually, I think we’re okay. Thanks though.”

“Okie dokie, I’ll be there in five.”

She hung up.

I laughed in bafflement before setting the phone back onto the table. I helped my brother continue to place the various food dishes onto the counter and placed note cards indicating what each dish contained. It only took us a few minutes to complete our tasks and once we were done we sat back and admired our hard work. The doorbell rang and I strode to the front door to answer it, already knowing who it was .

The wooden floor beneath my feet creaked as I trudged towards the door. Although we had only moved in at the beginning of the school year, the house itself was of reasonable age. I did not mind; in fact, I found that it gave the home personality and charm. I skipped to the door, twisted the handle, and revealed not only Kelsey but Danny as well.

I felt my eyes widen in mild shock but quickly recovered. He, on the other hand lowered his gaze as the sides of his mouth curled upwards shyly. Kelsey beamed at me and only waited a moment before strutting through  the entrance. She carried a garbage bag draped over a hanger.

“I found this stranger on the side of the road.” She informed, gesturing to Danny as he stepped inside after her. He wore dark wash jeans and a gray button-up that brought out the contrast between his dark skin tone and light green eyes. “He looked cold and I had a car.”

“What can I say?” he shrugged, “Apparently I am a natural hitchhiker.”

I giggled and opened my arms wide, inviting them into the kitchen and living area. As they walked in, I delighted in the awed expressions that bloomed upon their faces. “Whoa.” Kelsey muttered. I failed in trying to hide my smug smile.

Caspian patted Danny on the shoulder and greeted him warmly. The four of us stood there chatting and enjoying each other’s company until my eyes noticed the time declared by the small kitchen clock. I cursed silently, angry for letting myself lose track of time on an important occasion such as this. “I need to get dressed!” I glanced down in horror at the casual school outfit I still wore. I looked over at Caspian and my stress level increased. “And so do you!”

He glanced down and shrugged, “Mira, it doesn’t really…” he stopped short at the sight of my glare. He threw his hands up in defense and motioned for Danny to accompany him to his room. I reached out and grabbed Kelsey’s hand, pulling her up the stairs and into my room. I ran a shaky hand through my hair and closed my eyes, desperately trying to keep my anxiety under control. Calm down, it’s not a big deal. It won’t take that long to get ready. Chill. But taking one’s own advice rarely ever reaps positive results.

“Do you mind if I get dressed too?” Kelsey questioned. I shook my head and fled to my closet, whipping aside the sparkly gray curtains that concealed the small hole in the wall. The dress I had chosen last week for this specific event hung separate from the rest of my clothing articles, like VIP seating for clothes. I ripped it off the hanger and threw it onto my bed.

It didn’t take long for the two of us to strip down and replace our casual wear with our dresses. They were nothing too formal of course, this wasn’t prom or anything, but they certainly were not the sort of pieces one would wear on a normal school day. I turned to see Kelsey, who now wore a dusty pink high-waist dress that cut off at mid-thigh. The v-cut neckline was low but not scandalous and the cloth material made sure the dress did not appear too formal. Her short dirty blond curls barely brushed the top of her shoulders with the front on both sides twisted back. She now sat in front of my vanity with her makeup bag set out before her. She was pretty without makeup, I had seen her bare-faced during our many sleepovers over the last year, yet she never left the house without at least a touch of mascara. I had told her once that she did not need it, but she had simply stared at me and laughed disbelievingly.

I watched in wonder as she applied the light pink lipstick and dusted her cheeks with blush. She had moved on to lining her eyes with a dark purple that really brought out their round doe shape before she caught me staring. She grinned, “You’re so lucky.”

I frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes, that now stood out so boldly against her peaches and cream skin. She could easily pass for the goddess Aphrodite, “I have never even seen you put a smidgen of makeup on. So either you wake up at the crack of dawn and secretly apply it or you are just naturally, freakishly gorgeous.”

“Uh…” I stuttered, unsure of what to say. She was not incorrect; I never did put on makeup. I never felt the need to. I had once stared at my face, trying to understand why I was different from other girls my age. My eyes were naturally outlined and darkened, seemingly with silver eye shadow, but no matter how hard I rubbed and scrubbed it never came off. My dark lashes were extra long and thick and never failed to remain the color of midnight. My lips had always been the color of champagne and my pale skin had never experienced a pimple. Any additional makeup I had ever tried only made me look like a clown.

Kelsey stroked one last bit of mascara onto her long lashes before swiveling in the chair to face me, “Sit.” She ordered.

I did as she said and took a seat on the stool in front of my vanity as Kelsey released my hair from the constraints of the messy ponytail I had pinned it up in during the day. As soon as my hair was not held back by a clip or hair band of some description, there was no stopping it from being unleashed. Extremely long, extremely thick, and extremely curly; all decent adjectives for the beast. Oh, and did I mention extremely red. Fact: Only 2% of the earth’s population are natural redheads. But mine did not possess the natural red tint that is actually light orange. No, I am talking red. Crimson is a better term. Almost daily people asked who did my hair and I always smartly answered “God” thinking I was rather witty. My flaming locks reached down to my waist in thick curls. I often considered dying it but I honestly don’t think it would work. Plus, I can not help but sort of like it. How many people can say they have naturally red hair. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards and my big gray eyes laughed back at me. I glanced away, feeling uncomfortable looking at my own reflection.

After many attempts at trying to do something with my mane, Kelsey decided that a simple twisting back of my bangs would have to suffice seeing as the guests would start arriving at any moment. She grinned at me, “Good Lord, no wonder all the boys drool over you. And that dress.”

I blushed and looked down at my attire of choice. I had to say, I did like the dress. The cobalt blue color popped and the strapless style allowed for free movement of my arms. The hem barely reached my knees, exuding a dainty but informal appearance. I looked in the mirror again, shocked by how striking the stark blue was against my scarlet locks. I smiled at her graciously, thankful to have such a supportive person with me since my stress level concerning the party climbed sky high.

“You look phenomenal Kels, I can’t imagine that a single guy won’t be looking in your direction tonight.” I said it and meant it. She looked down bashfully, something I rarely saw from her.

“Yeah, right.” Was that wistfulness that fled across her face? I couldn’t be sure and the emotion had come and gone in a flash, much too quickly to interpret its meaning. The doorbell sounded from below and my heart skipped a beat. The first guests had officially arrived.

“Come on!” Kelsey sang, urging me to my feet, “Let’s party.”

*

The music pounded in my eardrums like one hundred heartbeats.

My living room filled to the maximum capacity, as did every other room in our cramped house. As more and more people arrived, I realized that our house may not have been up to the challenge of squeezing so many people inside. But it hardly mattered now as half the school hopped up and down to the vibrating beat and snacked on the food I had slaved over. It looked as if everyone pulsed to the same heartbeat, swaying similarly to the music. The rocking motion hypnotized me.

I could not even begin to count the number of times somebody approached me and either complimented me on the awesome party or asked to dance with the birthday girl. By the end of the first hour my feet were achingly sore and my social need exceeded. The thought of approaching another group of laughing girls and fist pumping guys induced a mild migraine. I excused myself discreetly to the less populated foyer. Glancing out of the windows, I saw at least five of the boys from the football team, Hank included, horsing around in the front lawn. Someone had supplied a football which was being carelessly tossed into surrounding bushes and trees. One of the boys chucked the ball as hard as he could and I heard the horrible
thump
of ball meeting wood as it slammed into the neighboring house.
I’m going to hear about
that
from the neighbors tomorrow
. I inwardly groaned at the thought.

Gentle fingers tapped my shoulder. I jolted in surprise and turned around to meet Danny’s light green eyes. I felt my face spread into a small smile and witnessed his do the same. “Hey.”

“Hi,” his eyes lowered, a habit I had noticed from early on with Danny, like he was eternally embarrassed, “Want to dance?”

“Sure,” I grinned, pushing my growing headache aside, and allowed him to lead me back into the living room. The intense hip hop song faded into a slower, calmer ballad. I silently thanked God for giving my head a break from all the rap and whatnot. The new song featured a violin and a haunting female vocalist. The tempo started off slow, like a scent in the breeze, but as the chorus crept closer and closer, the speed picked up until the climax enveloped me in a series of passionate strings and wailing voices, peaking at notes that I only dream of being able to hit. As I swayed back and forth, my arms around Danny, I lost myself in the harmony and the story the woman told. I realized that part of a poem we had been reading in class by Yeats worked itself into the song: “Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths- Enwrought with golden and silver light”, I racked my brain for the name of the poem and it finally came to me:
He Wishes for Cloths of Heaven
…or something to that effect. I loved the way the syllables rolled along when you spoke the lines of poetry, the elegant way it elevated one’s speech. I shut my eyes and allowed the eloquent lyrics to lull me away.