Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods)

Heir of Earth:              A Novel by Rosemary Clair

The First Installment Of Rosemary Clair's FORGOTTEN GODS Series

epub ISBN:                 978-0-9888931-3-9 

Copyright © 2013 by Rosemary Clair.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form or through any means, in part or in whole.  This book, and any part of it, may not be scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any form, written or electronic, without permission.  For review purposes, reviewers are authorized to quote brief passages.

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This is a work of fiction.  All references herein are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination.   Any resemblance to actual events, locations, businesses or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and is neither intended nor should be inferred. 

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Sunshine danced through the wall of windows lining the corridor that led from the lunchroom to the gymnasium of my high school, throwing a brilliant sheen on the scuffed linoleum squares. In the air, a sickly sweet mixture of BO and baby powder seeping from the locker rooms mingled with the ever-present funk of canned corn in the cafeteria kitchen. Every student, except for me, was in class at this hour.

Slowly, I peeked my head around the heavy metal door and peered carefully into each darkened corner, almost expecting her to jump out and grab me like some prowling ninja. The hallway was empty, so I gulped down the huge knot squeezing my throat and stepped into the warm sunshine. My hammering heart begged me to run away, but I wasn’t a coward. Even if I had been, I knew I couldn’t escape what waited for me at the end of the hallway.

In my hand, a note from Coach Thomas fluttered like fall leaves every time I lost control of the nerves shooting through my body and let a fearful shudder escape. It wasn’t an odd request that called me to the gym that day. Coach Thomas often got me out of class to help her with various tasks. She’d thought of me as a kindred spirit after watching the way the girls in my grade had turned their backs on me when freshman year began.

At a height and weight NFL players would envy, Coach Thomas was an outsider, too. She had tried to comfort me, saying high school girls were petty and mean, and that college would be different for me. I didn’t bother to tell her that losing my friends actually made my life easier.

Over the afternoons spent washing softball uniforms or putting away equipment, we had developed some weird teacher/student, us-against-them relationship. I wouldn’t call us
friends
, but I certainly didn’t mind getting out of my mind-numbingly-boring history class every now and then.

Three tentative steps into the corridor, the huge security door I had just passed through slammed shut, causing me to lurch out of my skin. Whirling around like a tornado, still not sure if I was going to fight or flee, I found nothing but the door, locking as it should. My heart hammered in my chest, constricting my throat with each thud as it tried to jump out of my ears. Cold waves of relief shuddered down the back of my neck, causing me to lose control of the note’s fluttering once again. I grabbed it with both hands and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans.

“Come on, Faye! Get it together!” I hissed under my breath, wiping a hand over the perspiration prickling my forehead, and brushing my fingers through the veil of golden curls cascading down my back. The strands trembled in my shaking hands, which only strengthened my determination to continue. Punching my chin in the air and taking a deep breath, I gritted my teeth and marched toward the gym door.

Halfway down the hall, I retrieved the note from my pocket and read it again.

Please excuse Faye Kent from fifth period to help me in the gym.  

-Coach Thomas

The gym was empty during fifth period, which was always when I was called to help. The only problem was that Coach Thomas was filling in for an absent teacher. I had known that when the note arrived in history class, but it hadn’t stopped me. I also knew it wasn’t Coach Thomas’ handwriting. The capital “C” in the signature had the same curly flourish my former best friend, Amber Crews, used to sign her name. But, if I didn’t show up, I feared they might suspect something, and I would do anything to keep my secret.

Every step took me closer to the unavoidable fate waiting for me on the other side of the double gym doors. Yet, I didn’t turn away, even though I knew what they were about to do to me. I had seen my horrible future in a dream days before. A normal person wouldn’t have any reason to give a dream a second thought, but I didn’t have the luxury of being normal anymore.

When my dreams turned black and white—like the one about that particular afternoon had— they always came true.

Telling anyone I could see the future would have made me a freak in my high school, so I’d buried the secret of my handicap away, and cut all ties to anyone who knew me well enough to suspect something unnatural was going on.

Being able to see the future was kinda cool at first, until I began seeing things I was helpless to stop. Like Amber’s father leaving the week before we started freshman year. How could I tell my best friend that I could see the future and that her father was about to vanish from her life? I couldn’t possibly act normal around her. So, I’d vanished from her life, too. It was the only way to keep the secret that I had become some crystal ball wielding, future-seeing freak.

I had made my choices, as impossible as they were. Those choices forced me to live life as a friendless nobody. I told myself it was better to
choose
to let go of those I loved rather than to share my secret and have my friends turn on me when they knew the truth of what I was. Amber, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. She hadn’t understood why I abandoned her, and after a few uncomfortable days of tearful messages on my cell phone, every bit of love she had for me turned to pure hatred.

It was no surprise when I had finally dreamed about Amber’s revenge on me—she was that kind of girl—but even I wasn’t prepared for the lengths she was about to go to.

At the gym doors, I paused. One hand reached out and gripped the cold, smooth metal handle, the pungent smell of rust and sweat stinging my nostrils. I sighed deeply and looked out the last window.

My reflection shone back in the brightly lit glass like a mirror. I was a smallish girl, a little taller than average height, but in no way capable of fending off an attack from two girls hell bent on ruining my remaining high school years. Amber had every right to hate me for inexplicably abandoning her. Her new friend, Camie—the one who would hold me down on the hard locker room bench while Amber shaved off every strand of hair on my head— didn’t even know me, but Amber had poisoned her against me.

The reflection looking back at me confirmed the fact that I was nothing special. My eyes were an unexciting shade of hazel, my skin stayed a pale pink color from the hours I spent riding horses, but refused to tan like I wished it would. The blue jeans and green sweater I wore made me look like every other female student at my suburban Atlanta, Georgia high school.

There was only one thing that stood out about me. One thing that made me different. From the time I was a little girl, golden curls—a soft yellow mixture of butterscotch and champagne— had grown in profuse wavy swirls down to my waist. My mother had insisted it never be cut, saying it was like a gift of spun gold from the gods.

I loved my hair, but I’d learned to hate anything that made me stand out lately. All I wanted was to blend in and be forgotten. My handicap was hard enough to deal with on my own. When people paid attention to me, it was impossible. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice how differently I approached the world lately, always braced for what was coming next.

I dropped the door handle, swinging my head to the side and swishing the blonde mane over my shoulder. A tear drop dangled from my eye lash, rolled down my cheek and landed in the soft folds of gold I twisted through my fingers one last time.

Watching in the windowpane, I stroked my hair and said goodbye to it like an old friend, wondering how horrible I would look when they were done and I was bald.

I couldn’t avoid this fate. It was my future, and it was coming whether I liked it or not. Pulling the length of my ponytail to my nose, I smelled the familiar, calming scent of my favorite mint shampoo. Closing my eyes, drinking it in, I released a slow breath and wiped the tear’s trail from my cheek.

Resolved to pay any price to keep my secret safe, I turned back to the door, gritting my teeth and using all my strength to sling the double doors wide. My chin punched into the air, and I stared into the darkness that greeted me, focusing on nothing as I stepped onto the polished wood floor.

A rush of wind from the closing door caught my hair and sent it spilling over my shoulder as the heavy metal clattered shut like jaws on a giant trap. Alone in the darkness, my head jerked to the side when a light clicked on in Coach Thomas’ office, leading me to the girl’s locker room where Amber and Camie waited to ambush me.

With leaded feet, I shuffled forward. The cavernous purple and gold gym blurred, becoming the familiar black and white vision from my dream days ago. I whimpered in the darkness, terrified of what was coming next, but my feet continued on.

I wouldn’t turn back. My secret had to be kept.