Fractured Light (7 page)

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You don’t look fine.” He kept his hand on my back.

“I just have a headache. I’m going home.”

“You can’t drive in your condition. You can barely walk.”

“I can walk fine.” And it was true. My muscles could’ve ran a marathon with the way they were feeling, but it was my vision and hearing that made the rest of my body behave like a theme ride massacre.

“You just ran into a trash can. Let me take you home. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Against my better judgment I agreed, and even let him hold my hand all the way to his car—for stabilization purposes only, of course. During the mile drive to my house, I kept the conversation light (mainly because I couldn’t understand half of what he was saying), but when we reached my house, I turned him away despite his protests. I didn’t need to be babysat. I just needed to be alone.

To clear my mind, I dropped to the couch and turned on the TV while my vision began to return. Judge Judy was in the middle of chewing out an overweight lady in a black tube top and a red miniskirt.

Jake appeared from the hallway rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” I snapped back. I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured by someone whose vocabulary consisted of short video game phrases. If I had to hear, “You failed us, Nightwing!” one more time …

“What’s your problem?”

“Forget it, Jake. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He stepped in front of me, blocking the angry judge. “All right. Let’s have it.”

I leaned to the side to see around him. “Have what?”

He shut off the TV. “You’ve been mad at me for weeks, and I want to know why.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. We used to be close, Tink, but now all you do is glare at me.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He sat down and rubbed the scruff on his neck. “I know I don’t have a job, or do anything else for that matter, but things have been rough. I just can’t shake it.”

“It’s been five years, Jake. Get over it!”

He looked at me, eyes full of the same sadness I used to see in my own. “He was my brother, Llona. I can’t just get over it. He was all I had.”

I stood up, suddenly furious, the raging bull released. “Boo-freaking-hoo! He was my father. I’ve lost both my parents, remember? And instead of grieving, I had to take care of a depressed uncle. For years I’ve had to be the strong one while you cried your heart out to Mario and Luigi. Who was there for me, Jake?”

His shoulders slumped and his head lowered, but I didn’t stop. “Every day I go to school alone—I come home alone—I am in this house alone. I keep everyone at a distance, because I’m afraid that just by knowing me they could end up dead.” My fingernails dug into my palms. “All I want to do is live. I want to make it until I’m a hunched over ninety-year-old with arthritis and varicose veins. When’s the last time you heard of an Aura living that long? It doesn’t happen! So on top of losing my parents and taking care of you, I have to worry about dying young.” I took a step toward him, my insides trembling. “Don’t ever tell me again how things are rough for you.”

His eyes met mine and his mouth opened, but no words came out. I stormed to my room and slammed the door. Like a caged tiger, I paced, opening and closing my hands. Fevered light raced through my veins, igniting my body as if it were on fire. I had to expel the extra energy, and fast. Already, I felt my body temperature rising.

I threw open the window and shoved the screen out. My feet hit the ground running.

I’d specifically chosen this house because of the backyard, which wasn’t a yard at all but more of a steep hill. The old home had been built against the Wasatch Mountains; they loomed over the house like a sleeping giant.

I raced up the giant, anxious to get as far away as possible. The steep grade proved no problem for my energized muscles. I dodged in and out of the trees like a ferocious wind until I reached the top. I’d never pushed myself this hard before, but then again, I’d never been this mad before, either. With the clear blue sky laid out before me, I realized it wasn’t just anger that had spurred me on, but also fear, and something else.

I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt. I was frightened and angry, but also felt something I thought I’d buried long ago, thanks to Christian. These feelings turned my body into an emotional blender, and the only way to sort through them was to run them right out of me.

After a few hours, I had calmed down and decided to head back. Basketball tryouts were soon, and I didn’t want to miss them.

I was no longer angry at Jake, but more at myself. I should never have acted the way I did. I didn’t regret what I’d said, but the way I had said it. As for the shoe on my porch, I wasn’t afraid any more. It was unlikely the shoe was tied to the murder, but just in case, I decided to call the police later and tell them about it. I did consider myself a good citizen, after all.

Finally there was Christian. I simply vowed to not think about him any more. Problem solved. How hard could that be?

I crawled back through the window and opened my bedroom door. Immediately, I knew Jake was gone. The house was void of the familiar gaming sounds that were about as constant as a ticking clock. His absence made me feel even worse.

I drove to the school parking lot and, while I waited for the bell to ring, called the police to tell them about the shoe I’d found. By the tone of the lady’s voice on the other end, she wasn’t taking me seriously. Whatever. I did my civic duty.

I turned off my phone just as the bell rang. Students poured from the high school, but I pushed my way through, dodging in and out of the teenagers.

May found me at my locker. “Do you mind if I watch try-outs?” she asked as she swept dark hair behind her ear. It was styled perfectly, wavy and smooth, and by her preppy outfit, she must’ve been hanging with the cheerleaders today.

“I don’t care. It’ll probably be boring though.”

“Not the way you play, especially on your good days. Is today a good today?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Incredible.”

When we entered the gym, a couple of girls were already practicing. I resisted the urge to turn back. I hated the social aspect of belonging to a team, but I loved the exercise. It gave me a break from my constant running. I also secretly loved the competition.

I don’t think my mother would’ve approved of me playing sports. Auras were supposed to be gentle, loving, and kind. But most of all, because of our Light, we were supposed to be humble. According to my aunt Sophie (and probably my mother too, but I was too young to ask) sports were prideful. Sophie thought they were a form of fighting—man pitted against man to see who was better. A few years ago I’d mentioned to her that I was trying out for soccer, and she’d completely flipped out. I tried to explain that I only wanted to join because it made my body feel better, especially around the full moon, but she’d thought that was just an excuse. “Go running for five hours instead,” she’d told me. I didn’t bring up sports ever again.

I quickly dressed in the locker room and then rushed to join the others.

“Let’s get started!” Ms. Lindsey, the basketball coach, yelled from across the court.

I sat down on the bleachers while Ms. Lindsey handed out a schedule. She was a tall, barrel-chested woman with short, blonde hair. Her shoulders were much larger than the rest of her body, making her look like an anime character.

“It’s great to see so many of you today. I see the usual group and some new faces. That’s good. It means we will have a much better chance of creating a winning team,” she said.

I glanced behind me. There were about twenty-five girls. Most of them I recognized.

She continued, “Now I know you girls are mature enough to realize I’ll only keep the top ten and maybe a few alternates. Just the hardest-working players will make the team, is that understood?”

We nodded.

“All right. Let’s get started. Laps first. Everybody on the court.”

The girls stood up looking a little nervous, except for me—I jumped up. Ms. Lindsey was known for trying to break those who wanted to be on the team. Behind her back, the girls called her “The Hammer,” and I couldn’t wait to feel The Hammer’s pain.

Ms. Lindsey focused on me. “You seem awfully anxious, Llona. Why don’t you get started first? The rest of you follow. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

After fifteen minutes of circling the gym floor, the whistle blew again. “Line up beneath the basket,” Ms. Lindsey barked.

I jogged over to the edge of the basketball court. The others weren’t so quick.

“Ladders next, girls. You know the routine. For those of you who don’t, follow the girl in front of you. Go until I say stop.”

I took off running, moving back and forth between the lines on the court. I thought I was focused on the task until my eyes caught movement in the doorway of the gym.
Christian
. My legs suddenly became like strings of licorice. The effect was ruthless.

I fell flat on my face and slid a short distance from him. The sound of flesh tearing on polished gym floor screeched as loudly as Ms. Lindsey’s whistle. The other girls, thinking they’d heard just that, stopped. Several of them began to laugh when they saw me sprawled on the floor.

Christian knelt in front of me. “Are you okay?”

I jumped up. “I’m fine,” I said and forced a smile, even though my legs felt like they’d slid through a meat grinder.

He shook his head. “No way. It sounded like your skin peeled off.”

We looked down at the same time. Sure enough, the top layer of skin on both my knees and part of my shins was gone.

“You all right, Llona?” Ms. Lindsey called.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“She could use some bandages, Coach,” Christian told her.

I looked back at him sharply. He shrugged.

“You know where the stuff is. Can you take care of it?” Ms. Lindsey asked him.

“Sure. I’ve got this.” He grinned as I cringed.

“Who told you to stop?” Ms. Lindsey snapped at the other girls.

A few audible sighs lifted into the air, but they did as they were told.

“Let’s go, speed racer.” Christian nodded his head toward the locker rooms. I reluctantly followed.

“You know,” he said, once we were out of earshot from the other girls. “I can’t keep taking care of you.” He held his mouth tight to keep from smiling.

“It was your fault I fell,” I accused.

“Hardly! I was twenty feet away.”

“Well, you’re hard to miss.”

He looked at me. “Really?” There was no sarcasm in his voice.

I visibly jerked. “I didn’t mean—I was just surprised to see someone standing there.” I thought I saw disappointment flash in his eyes, but couldn’t be sure.

“The first aid kit’s in here,” he said.

“In the men’s locker room?”

“There’s probably one in the girl’s, but I don’t know where. Come on. No one’s in here.”

I followed him through the blue-tiled doorway. Inside was a typical locker room with wooden benches in the middle of each aisle. “It stinks,” I blurted, covering my nose and mouth.

“We can’t all smell like roses.”

“Roses? I’d settle for day-old meatloaf. It smells like wet cat bum in here.”

He laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

I followed him into the coach’s office where he removed a first aid kit from the wall.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

“I can put a Band-Aid on myself.”

“Not while I’m around.” He opened the kit and pulled out bandages and antiseptic wipes. “I’m surprised to see you here, after the way you were this morning. What happened?”

“Bad headache is all. I’m fine now.” I flinched when he pressed an alcohol wipe to my leg.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it didn’t hurt. I’m just not used to—” I stopped, startled I was just about to admit that I wasn’t used to being touched.

“Getting hurt?” he suggested.

“Something like that.”

After a minute, he said, “You’re really fast out there.”

“Today I am.”

“Do you run track too?”

I nodded. “How come Ms. Lindsey seems to know you so well? Aren’t you supposed to be new?” I asked.

“She sits in at a lot of our football practices. Sometimes I think she wishes she were coaching.”

“That makes sense.” On top of being pushy and competitive, Ms. Lindsey was also a control freak.

I looked down as Christian attached the final strip of tape to a bandage on my shin. He kept his warm palm on the back of my calf, sending chills through my whole body.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” I stood up and backed away. “Thanks for helping me, but I better get back.”

“Are you sure you feel up to it with those wounds?”

“You have no idea.”

He looked at my questioningly, but I turned around, took a deep breath, held it, and then moved quickly through the reeking men’s locker room. Christian caught up to me in the gym just as I exhaled.