Wraithsong (2 page)

“
So I suppose tomorrow
you’ll have a new best friend?” My mom gets a look of pure
amusement in her eyes.

I thought she’d be yelling
at me, but somehow, her amusement and subdued tone frightens me
more. “Is that what will happen?”

She takes a deep breath.
“Yes.”

I groan. I don’t want to be
friends with or even associate with that crazy girl. I was trying
to get rid of her!

“
Savannah will come to you
tomorrow, at the very least, and apologize for what she did. She’ll
also feel compelled to make it up to you and will try to become
your best friend by doing anything you ask of her for the rest of
her life.”

“
What?” My stomach drops
like I just swallowed three gallons of sand.

My mom nods. “She’ll become
obsessed with you, stalking you day and night. I’ve warned you to
be careful and this is why. The closer you are to your eighteenth
birthday, the stronger the effect of your saliva will have on
humans.”

Crap! “Why?” This sounds
way worse than her bullying me because I can’t think of anyone I
hate more than Savannah. “I did this because I had just wanted her
to leave me alone.”

“
Unfortunately, that’s part of what’s called your
flair
. If one isn’t
careful and hasn’t been trained how to use it properly, it will
backfire.” She smiles like she’s relishing in my pain.

“
Flair?” That’s the first
time I’ve heard my mom use that word.

“
I’ll tell you about it
when you turn eighteen,” she says. That’s what she always says, and
it drives me completely and totally insane.

“
Why not now?”

“
Not today.” She presses
her lips firmly together for a moment and then she says, “In life,
the test comes first, the lesson later.”

I swear it’s her favorite
line. But she’s not going to budge; my mom is as tight-lipped as
they come. Clearly, I hadn’t thought this Savannah thing through.
“You knew what I was doing, didn’t you?”

My mom’s eyebrows round
upwards. “Of course I knew what you were doing. I’ve been playing
this game since the days of Adam and Eve.” She reaches her arm
behind my seat, glances back, and gracefully backs out of the
school parking spot.

“
Ha, ha,” I laugh
sarcastically.

She turns serious. “It will
do you no good to disobey my rules, and I’m warning you, if you do,
your disobedience will have dire consequences.”

“
If you would just tell me
why I am the way I am, and how I can control myself, then I’d be
happy to obey,” I say.

“
I already told you, all
this will be explained to you when you turn eighteen.” Her voice is
stern.

I drop my hands into my
lap. “Sorry,” I say under my breath.

“
What was that?”

“
Sorry,” I say a little
louder.

“
Don’t worry, sweetie,
you’ll learn in time.” She grows silent for a moment. “I wanted to
talk to you about this after graduation, but I think now is a
better time.” She pats me on the knee.

“
Yes?” I say.

“
It’s about your graduation
present.”

“
Yes...?” My mom has been
planning my graduation present for some time. I have seen open tour
catalogs lying around the house and tourism websites left open on
her laptop, and I figure from those clues that my graduation gift
has something to do with traveling.

She splashes the windshield
with cleaner and turns the wipers on, causing the splattered
love-bugs to smear across the glass. Scoffing, she says, “Stupid
little things. Anyway, we’re going to Minnesota together.” Her eyes
beam with excitement.

“
Oh.” I feel a huge scowl
coming on. Somehow the thought of going to Minnesota doesn’t excite
me. At all. “Why Minnesota?” I’d rather stay here all summer and
relax on the beach, well, if she’d actually let me do
that.

“
There are things I’d like
you to see and people I’d like you to meet in Minnesota,” she
says.

“
Where—in—Minnesota—exactly?” I try not to sound too upset.
Things have been very emotional since my dad passed away in a car
accident, and the last thing my mom needs is an ungrateful
daughter. I have enough sense to at least be sensitive to that,
though the loss hasn’t been any easier on me either. Still, I have
a hard time hiding the fact that I feel cheated—way cheated.
Seriously. What could be more boring than a graduation trip to
Minnesota? My best friend Ashley’s going to Australia, and even the
girl across the street, who never has any fun, gets to spend her
summer in Hawaii.

“
A small town called
Kensington.” She turns on the blinker and takes a left at Bee Ridge
Road.

I haven’t even heard of
Kensington, but immediately think that its name reeks of a farm
country where cows and goats outnumber the human population for
sure. Any place on earth sounds more exciting. Paris, Rome, even
Oslo or Orlando!

“
There, you’ll meet my
sisters and you’ll officially be accepted into the Dynasty.”
Excitement bounces inside the curve of her lips and the center of
her eyes.

I shouldn’t say anything,
but the words just come out all by themselves. “Accepted into
the…
Dynasty
?”
That’s another new word I haven’t heard before. “Sounds—weird, like
there are a lot of religious rituals or something.” My mom hasn’t
really prepared me for those types of eccentricities. I wonder if
being accepted into the Dynasty has anything to do with our unusual
abilities. It must.

“
There you’ll learn how to
appropriate what you want from humans,” she says.

“
What do you mean by
appropriate from humans?” A mild panic attack looms inside, winding
my emotions into a bundle of nervous energy.

“
Let’s change the subject.
I can’t talk to you about it, sweetie, sorry.”

I squeeze my lips together.
Is there something magical about turning eighteen? It’s not like
I’m going to be a different person a few weeks from now. “Can you
at least tell me how many sisters you have?”

“
I suppose that can’t hurt.
I have three sisters.”

I have often wondered why I
never met them. It’s as though my mom has kept them from me, or me
from them. I can’t tell which one. “Cool.”

“
We’ll be staying with them
in Minnesota, and after we’ve been there for four weeks—” my mom
says.

“
Four weeks! What could we
possibly be doing there for four weeks?” My summer is officially
ruined.

“
Shh…just listen, please.
After four weeks, we’ll be traveling to an invisible island just
off the New Hampshire coast.” My mom pulls into our double garage
and turns the engine off. “It’s called Wraithsong
Island.”

“
Seriously? Invisible?” I
say sarcastically and laugh, but soon stop when I can tell she’s
just about had it with me. Maybe I should try to not sound so
disappointed. Everything will work out, besides, there are many
more summers ahead that will be normal—I hope. Even that’s
questionable now. What will happen after my eighteenth birthday?
Now I’m starting to dread something I should be looking forward to.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“
I’m telling you now.” She
glides out of the SUV and crosses our lawn to the
mailbox.

I suppose I can wait a few
weeks for all this to be clarified. Not like I have a choice.
“Anything for me?” I ask, seeing that she has a pile of mail in her
hands.

My mom looks like she’s
still in her mid-twenties. ‘Scandinavian genes’, she always says
when people ask her about her age, but I know it’s something else.
Her blonde hair reflects the sun, and her bright red lipstick,
though faded since this morning, is still striking. I pull my heavy
backpack out of the SUV.

“
Yes—looks like there’s an
early birthday card here for you.” She holds the black envelope up
and waves it.

Black? That’s a strange
color for a birthday card.

We enter our house through
the garage and go through the cozy, yellow laundry room to get to
the kitchen. Shortly after moving in, my dad created my mom’s dream
kitchen—the last thing he did before he died. He installed white
and gray marble counter tops, white custom made cupboards, and all
new stainless-steel appliances.

The kitchen still brings
back so many memories of me working with my dad. He showed me how
to hammer in a nail, how to caulk and even how to connect the
plumbing. I have dreams of my dad at night, and still wake up
crying because I miss him so much. He was my best friend, always
there, patient and loving, not yelling or threatening me to do
something he wanted, but waiting for me to make my own decisions.
He would even respect my choice if I made the wrong one. Well, as
long as it didn’t harm anyone else, of course. My mom said that Dad
was the first man she had fallen in love with. “No one had ever
been right for me before your father,” she always said. Every day I
see the ever-lingering grief in her eyes. Her despondent look
appeared the day my dad’s life was taken from her.

“
Can I fix you a snack?”
She opens the cabinet containing the crackers and cereal
boxes.

“
Mom, I’m almost eighteen.
I can fix my own snack.” Since I’m an only child, I think she
overdoes it and pampers me too much.

“
But I like doing it for
you,” she says softly. I wonder how she manages to give so much,
when death robbed her of one of the most important things in her
life.

I study the front of my
black birthday envelope. There’s no return address—only a small,
hand-drawn, silver-metallic balloon on the front next to my name
and address. The handwriting looks like printed calligraphy and I
see that the envelope came from New York City. I start opening
it.

“
No, no.” She grabs it from
me. “Not until your birthday.”

“
But that’s not for another
two weeks!” I say.

“
It’s bad luck to open any
presents before your birthday, and that includes cards.” She stuffs
the envelope in the kitchen island drawer. “I’ll make you a turkey
sandwich, how does that sound?”

A smile tugs at my lips.
“Sounds delicious. I’m just going to put my stuff in my room.” I
scamper through the kitchen, take a left into the hallway with our
lives pretty much plastered onto the wall with pictures, “the
hallway of memories,” as my mom calls it, pass the Jack and Jill
bathroom on my right and take a right into the small hallway that
leads to my bedroom. It is impeccable as usual: my dark cherry
furniture is brightened by red and yellow accents throughout. I
pride myself in keeping my room clean, but I do have one weakness
when it comes to cleanliness: I absolutely hate making my
bed.

The only time I make it is
when I know company is coming, which isn’t often. I usually spend
most of my time on my bed when I’m in my room—when I sleep, when I
study, when I chat on the phone with my best friend Ashley and when
I immerse myself in reading my favorite new book
series—
a Viking Blood Saga.

I toss my backpack on to
the bed and head to the bathroom. My golden brown hair, or
Goldilocks hair as my dad always called it, looks tousled, like
it’s been through a tornado. I remember Savannah ruffling my hair
before she threw her algebra binder in my face. Stupid Savannah,
but I can’t help but smile a little because even though I’m not
looking forward to meeting this new stalker-Savannah, I’m thrilled
that the harassment will finally stop. I undo my rowdy ponytail and
my hair cascades down my back. I run a brush through it a couple of
dozen times and pile it on top of my head into a messy
up-do.

“
Your sandwich is ready!”
my mom hollers from the kitchen.

“
Be right
there!”

Arriving in the kitchen, I
sit down at our kitchen table. I take a bite of my sandwich and it
tastes delicious, as always. My mom sits down next to me, handing
me a tall glass of ice water. Beads of condensation trickle down
the sides and it makes my mouth water.

“
So tell me about this
flair,” I say casually.

“
Not talking about it. Just
trust me, Sonia, will you?” Her face is harsh.

I’m sick of her treating me
like I can’t be trusted. “You know what? Forget I ever brought it
up. I think I’ll just go and do my homework in my room.” I grab my
sandwich and leave.

Once in my room, I pull my
algebra out first and when I’m done with that, I start on history.
There’s a subtle knock at the door.

“
Come in,” I
say.

My mom opens the door and
leans against the doorframe. “I’m sorry, Sonia. I just wish you’d
trust me a little more. You’ll understand so much more after you go
to the Academy.”

“
Wait, I
have to go to
school
?” My eyebrows gather tightly
above my eyes.

“
Yes. You have to learn
about all of this from somewhere,” she says.

“
About what, Mom? You won’t
even tell me. This is going to be the worst summer ever! I’m not
going.” Fury wells up inside when I think about how my mom has kept
all this information from me my whole life. I feel lied
to.