Knowledge: The Fifth Division Saga: Book 1 (4 page)

“I didn’t know you sang,” Danny said into my ear. My eyes shot open in horror. I had not realized that I’d begun to hum aloud, subconsciously trying to harmonize with the song. I bit my lip, embarrassment heating my face. But Danny did not seem to care in the slightest. In fact, his eyes actually brightened, seemingly surprised.

I laughed nervously, “That was an accident.”

“Well, you have an amazing voice.” He insisted, “Do you take lessons?”

“Uh, no!” I could never sing in front of a crowd. Everyone staring at me while I stood vulnerably on stage? No thank you. I was perfectly content with plugging in my iPod and jamming out privately in my room like the normal, awkward teenage girl.

We danced in silence for the next verse until he spoke again, softer this time and his voice rough, “You look nice tonight.”

“Thanks,” I replied as we broke apart with the end of the song. The hip hop was back and, therefore, slow dancing had come to a close. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

We stood there for a moment in silence before he spoke again, his eyes were on Kelsey as she danced suggestively with a couple of boys from school, “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

I snorted. But I never got the chance to reply. The words choked up in the back of my throat as my eyes fell on the surprising and unwelcome sight located across the room. The brown haired siblings from earlier sat across the makeshift dance floor, perched on the couch as if they owned the place. The boy leaned back with his feet propped up on our expensive mahogany coffee table. I racked my brain, trying to remember if they attended our school before today. No, they had to be new, and they had definitely been shooting me curious looks all day. Of course, people typically ended up staring once they heard about my accident track record and wondered what my curse could be, but something seemed off in the way they whispered to one another and then meaningfully look my way. Like they were plotting. A lump formed in my throat. I had completely neglected to discuss my fears concerning the siblings with my brother.  Even if my foreboding was unwarranted, I still liked to run things by Caspian; he always seemed to be able to provide wise advice whenever it was needed. I scoured the room for my brother, but he was nowhere to be found.

With a hurried apology to Danny, something I would amend later, I scurried away from the dance floor and directed my path for the downstairs bathroom. I hoped Danny wouldn’t be too upset with me for ditching him, but getting to Caspian was of precedence right now and the only thing that seemed bound to cure my worries. What was it about those two that raised such a panic within me? They appeared normal enough; they were probably just typical new kids at school who wanted to make friends at a party…right? But I knew there was more to it than that, something about them stirred up a warning inside of me so primitive I couldn’t deny it. Something about the way the girl’s smile curved upwards into a mischievous grin or the way the boy’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light sent chills raging down my spine.

I whipped out my phone and dialed Bram’s number. When he had not shown up with Iris earlier I assumed that he had taken her out for a movie or something knowing that the house would be jumping with crazy teenagers. Bram was not usually the kind of person who would leave a party like this without a chaperone but maybe my mom talked him into giving Caspian and me some space? But with a glance at the time, 7:23pm, I was getting antsy. He was supposed to be home over an hour ago. I lifted the phone to my ear, impatiently listening to the faint ringing on the other line. I made it to the bathroom and threw open the door. Thankfully, nobody was inside because knocking was not a priority of mine at that point.

I slammed the door shut, locked it, and collapsed onto the raised side of the bathtub. My toe tapped anxiously against the faux tile flooring. I looked up and saw my reflection in the mirror only to swiftly evade catching another glimpse. Seeing my eyes so wide and frantic only increased my stress.

“
You have reached Bram Gale
…” his voice came through crystal clear. I grunted in frustration. Where the heck was he? Wasn’t he supposed to be here acting as the responsible adult figure in a house full of rambunctious teenagers? Obviously, they were not too rambunctious considering I had refused to supply or house alcohol...but still! Bram was nothing if not reliable; definitely the strongest trait I discovered in him early on. My assumption, so far, had struck true. Until tonight, that is. The rational part of my brain insisted that calling Bram would do almost nothing for me at this point; but I could think of no other way to try and subdue the unjustified panic welling up inside me.

I dialed his number again, praying he would just pick up his phone.

Voicemail.

I fought the urge to hurl my phone across the room into the mirror above the sink. I imagined the liberation, to chuck the worthless object into the reflective surface of the mirror and witness the fissure spider web across the glass until the shards flew every which way. All the stress and anxiety of the night bottled tight inside of me, threatening to burst violently. I felt like an aerosol can being lit of fire and that at any moment I would explode. My head pounded in sync with my heart. I stared at the mirror; the need to break
something
overwhelming all other thoughts. I never before felt the need to hurt anything or act out irrationally when stressed. But now, the desire became my only focus. I stared at the mirror and watched my gray eyes morph from shocked urgency to set determination. With a jolt of surprise, my eyes unexpectedly flashed an electric shade of cobalt, causing me to cry out.

My stomach curled into a knot, twisting and turning, as if someone had reached into the inside of my gut and then squeezed. I clutched my right hand to my abdomen and gasped in pain. My teeth clenched painfully to refrain from letting anything louder than a strained wheeze escape my lips. It was like everything inside of me contracted and pulled together into a menacing gnarl. My ears deafened by a shattering roar. The pressure in the room suddenly become too intense and folded me into a tiny compacted ball. After many long seconds, the contortion in my stomach loosened and I was able to breathe again. These stomach pains were not uncommon, but I had never before experienced two in one day. As the pain faded to a dull ache, my eyes glanced upwards to look in the mirror. I could not hold back my horrified gasp.

The bathroom mirror shattered into a million tiny shards. The pieces dusting the ground like stars tossed upon tile.

Hesitantly, I knelt down and delicately pinched a piece of the glass. I held it up to eye level, positively sure that I was hallucinating. Nobody had entered the room and, amidst my torturous pain,   I hadn’t even been able to stand up, let alone punch out a bathroom mirror. I stared at the glistening slice of glass in awe and disbelief for a long moment, unable to move.

Someone knocked on the door.

My heart froze inside my chest. It felt like someone hit the pause button on time, forcing me to stay exactly where I was without a twitch. The knock came again, this time forcing me into action. I cleared my throat, “Just a second!” No reply.

My eyes soaked in the disaster of the bathroom and I knew that I couldn’t let anyone see the mess I had made and I didn’t even want to
think
about what Bram would do when he saw the destruction. I would have a hard time explaining this one. I quickly swept as much of the glass that had scattered across the floor as I could using my hands, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain as the edges pierced my skin. Once I gathered the largest of the shards into a pile, I swiftly swept them into the cupboard under the sink, making a major mental note to clean them up later. The place where the mirror itself used to be now stood as just an empty wood frame; there wasn’t much I could do about that. After making sure all of the dangerous pieces were off the floor, I sighed in displeasure, knowing I had only disposed of the most noticeable damage, and opened the door.

The brown haired girl with the tattoo on her wrist stared back at me, that curious smile planted on her face. It took every ounce of willpower to stifle a groan when considering the irony of the situation. I tried to ignore the fact that every cell in my body cringed at the nearness of her, like my body screamed a natural warning of “
get away, get away
”. I forced my lips up into a returning smile. I felt physical pain as the corners of my lips curled upward.

“Hey,” Her blue eyes burned into mine with shining intensity, “you’re Mirabelle, right?”

“Mira,” I corrected automatically, my full name much too long and far too formal.

              She grinned and I couldn’t help but acknowledge that she was pretty, with her bright eyes and light skin against dark hair. I would not call her drop dead gorgeous or anything, she appeared a little young to be considered that (maybe thirteen?), but someday she would have her fair share of suitors. She held out her hand, allowing me to get a closer look at her tattoo. Only her right wrist had seen a needle and the marks were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Black cursive letters scrawled across the back of her wrist. I read it, sounding the odd words out in my head:
dominium ex evocatis mittebant
. My breath caught as I saw movement, as if the tattoo came to life and squirmed by its own free will. I blinked a few times and looked again. All was still.

“Thank you so much for letting us come over,” I wanted to say that I never gave her permission but at the last second realized this could be offensive. I noticed that her voice had a unique lilt to it that could have passed for Scottish or Irish or perhaps something completely different. I don’t claim to be an accent expert. “It was so nice for Wiley and I to be able to meet some people from school. We just moved here from out of country.” She gestured over to the couch where a couple of girls now sat on either side of the brown haired boy, Wiley, with their flirty faces on.

I shook her outstretched hand. “Out of country?” I couldn’t help but be a little intrigued, “Where?”

“Oh, I doubt you’ve heard of it,” she waved away the question, evading it completely which only increased my curiosity.

“And what was your name again?”

She slapped her hand to her head dramatically, “Sorry, I can be such a ditz. I’m Rezza.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, choking out the lie. She made a small wave as I stepped aside for her to enter the bathroom. I walked into the foyer, lost in my own thoughts, squandering in my confusion. Rezza seemed nice enough, so why did every bone in my body jolt at the sight of her and Wiley? Nothing made sense. Probably just going bonkers, which considering the scene in the bathroom, wasn’t a totally outrageous theory.

My thoughts were still being sorted when Hank from the football team stepped into my view and smiled. “Hey there gorgeous.”

I glanced back at the living room uncomfortably, not really wanting to meet Hank’s eyes. I usually did not find myself very fond of guys who were so straightforward; all it did was make me nervous. This qualified as one of the many times I thanked God for giving me cheeks that didn’t flush easily. “Uh, hi.”

He lifted his hand to his ear and squinted his eyes in concentration before shaking his head, “It’s impossible to hear anything in here, except maybe the blood pouring from my eardrums. Mind if we talk outside?” I shrugged. Glancing once more at the dance floor, I spotted the shiny black mop of hair in the crowd that could only belong to Caspian. I yearned to go over and talk to my brother but Hank already commenced dragging me to the front porch. I vowed to make the conversation quick and then go speak with my brother. Maybe he had heard from Bram?

We stepped out into the chilly late-Spring air and I inhaled the brisk breeze through my nose and blew it out in a puff of mist. My house sat just a couple miles from the crashing ocean waves of the Oregon coast. The salty sea air filled my nostrils and enlivened my senses. The scent itself made my heart lurch with adoration for the sea and I felt a desperate urge to ditch the party and run to the rocky ocean shores and wade in the foamy crests. Running away from all of this social stress and whatever else was going on felt highly tempting. But I stayed put, allowing my thoughts to wander across those few miles to the sandy, seashell infested shores.

Lost in my mind’s eye, I almost didn’t notice as Hank slid his hands onto my shoulders and turned me around to face him. “What are you doing?” I edged laughter into my voice, trying to keep the situation light, but I heard my confidence crack slightly and his grip tightened. His eyes turned to flint.

He offered me a toothy grin, but all the warmth had been drained out of his expression, “You’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah, you said that.” I tensed as his hands traveled slowly from my shoulders down to my hips. He rested them there with a bruising hold. I counted to ten in my head, desperate to control my breathing. But with the way his eyes went flat and his expression stony, my racing heart refused to calm down.
It’s nothing, it’s nothing…

He pulled me closer, to the point of discomfort, and my attempt to regulate my breathing failed. I squirmed and tried to yank myself free but he was too strong. Hank was a whole head and shoulders taller than me and at least three times as thick, built of pure muscle. No way could I make him budge so much as an inch. A sudden feeling of constriction overcame me, triggering the natural instinct to struggle and free myself.

“Well I think you should know it. That way you can understand.”