Chapter 14: Parents Just Don’t Understand

Mrs. Daniels was sitting outside on the porch when they reached the house. Watching her inquisitive gaze, Brandi looked down at her shoes, and tried to think up some excuse for her absence. Something that her mother would agree with.

But, that was before Nicholas exited the house, and took a seat opposite her mother. Brandi’s lips moved silently, as if she was speaking to herself. By the scowl on her face, Roger guessed that the pep talk was anything but friendly. Or upbeat as she glanced at him. Ushering him up the narrow driveway, where her bike usually lay, and yet she didn’t even register its absence. Almost forgetting that if anything, her mother was the one, who would have the need to be angry or dismayed because she hadn’t been at home.

Indicting to the jacket she wore, Roger tugged at his own shirt, trying to get her to notice the revealing nature of the fabric. But Brandi brushed his fingers away and then after a moment’s hesitation and her mother’s accompanying stare, she pulled it close. Remembering that a few weeks earlier, she had been the one who had coerced her into buying it.

“You should be in bed,” Mrs. Daniels said, getting up from her perch on the rocking chair. Her skepticism about the stranger, did nothing to abate her feelings of misplaced trust and anxiety, as she blew her nose into a handkerchief, and then surveyed Roger, for some assurance that he should be there. And wasn’t intruding.

Perhaps, conscious of the questions his presence raised, he took a step forward and extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Daniels. I’m Roger Barnes.”

She looked at him comically and offered a fake smile, as Nicholas put out a hand to stop her. But she embraced the boy anyway. “You must be confusing me with somebody else, my friends call me Stein. Gertrude Stein,” she said, her eyes peering at Roger’s. “What are you doing with my daughter?” Roger released himself from her embrace and took a step back. It was as if this wasn’t how he had envisioned their meeting. Twisting his neck, he pulled at a stray curls at the back of his head and looked up towards the heavens.

“I wanted to make sure she got in safely,” he said, as Mrs. Daniels straightened her shoulders and wrapped the shawl more tightly around herself. Her face angling towards Nicholas who came closer, taking away the narrow space between them that would have served as an exit.

“Oh, really,” Nicholas said, grabbing his arm and poking his skin. “Don’t you have parents or some kind of curfew?”

Roger shook his head, angling to get a look at Brandi, who stood a few feet away and looked rather distant. Backed against the side railing, Roger shoved his hand into his pants pocket, wondering what he could say to stop them when his fingers brushed against a baseball. He retrieved it, and wiped his brow, no longer feeling stifled and hemmed in, as his eyes met Brandi’s. She was watching him, as he clutched the ball. Watching as the storm abated and the furrowed eyebrows started to even out and his breathing became a little more calm. Was she testing him? he wondered, plastering on a smile and becoming almost jovial. As if in response to their arrogance, he was saying okay, bring it on.

Behind them, Brandi cleared her throat and moved closer. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourselves with. We have world Literature with Mrs. Jenkins, if you must know. And tonight, he saved me from being stuck in another dimension.”

Nicholas scratched his brow, shifting his weight from one side of his body to the other, realizing for the first time that there was something odd about the boy and the ball. Something that he should have remembered. But for whatever reason his mind was drawing a blank.

Mrs. Daniels nodded, not sure how to take this. Even if she was the queen on a game of chess about to be sacrificed, she wasn’t going to show her hand, or take things at face value. She touched her daughter’s head and neck, trying to ascertain the extent of the fever before Brandi pulled away. “Thanks for that then. She seems okay.”

Brandi shifted her gaze awkwardly, not wanting Roger to think that this was an everyday occurrence. It wasn’t as though people came to their house willingly. Or casually. She dropped her silent phone onto the center table and raised her head. “Honestly mum, Teresa was the one who invited me out. Roger is just a back up. An escort,” she said, winking at him, until she saw his features fall.

Nicholas looked from on to the other suspiciously while her mother folded her hands and examined the dead phone. “Okay,” she said, sighing, not even bothering to turn on the phone and check for herself as Brandi moved silently towards the front door. She removed the jacket and handed it to him.

After a moment, she turned back as Roger accepted his jacket and made a motion towards the stair. “Oh and in case any of you are wondering, Roger’s also my guardian.”

Mrs. Daniels slammed her fist down on the table and Nicholas grunted as if he too was a parent. Her parent. Someone who had something to say on the matter. “And yet, you allow her to go out by herself and face that doom.”

“No, I did nothing of the sort,” Roger said pulled away, unprepared for the attack. The hostility brewing in the older man’s eyes as the scene from the diner came to him unbidden. “You should be the last person to talk about my action.” He stuffed his arms into the jacket. “Because your actions in the diner didn’t save her from being discovered. I am here, only to help make her into what she will become.” He edged down the stairs, waiting for them to raise any further objections as Mrs. Daniels pulled her daughter to the side and Nicholas glared, like a fire-breathing dragon who could demolish anyone.

“Says you, the boy who lacks history and connections.”

Roger turned back, unfazed, as if he had been called worse. Shaking his head. “Honestly I would have thought at least that you’d be glad, because our families have a shared history.” Nicholas looked at him doubtful before he pulled out the baseball glove and offered it to him. With thin fingers, Nicholas followed the lines of the family tree and saw that indeed there was some connection, before he offered the glove to Mrs. Daniels who did the same. Taking her time to sift through the names and discover their familial connection.

Then she looked at her daughter, wondering if any of this was new to her. But from her features, she knew that she had already know and that like with her father, Mrs. Daniels was the one who was now in the dark.

“What do you propose to do? Do you have some sort of plan?” she asked, leaning onto the railing, suddenly feeling tired and strained.

“She will meet with the nameless one,” he said, his eyes on Nicholas. “Unless you’d prefer another run in with Lucien.”

Mrs. Daniels raised an eyebrow as if this had been something that they had discussed and then slowly she nodded her head. It would be futile to go against the Foundation, she thought. Unnecessary to lose her daughter.

“Of course,” Roger said, as if reading her mind, collecting the baseball glove with his free hand. “Nobody’s losing anyone on my watch. Please consider Brandi a free agent. No one can touch her, until she turns sixteen.”

Mrs. Daniels nodded, as though this too had been discussed. But her face still seemed strained. Exhausted.

“You should tell her what you know, because Lucien has already found a way to use her friends.”

Brandi’s face turned scarlet as her mother’s eyes devoured hers. “Like I was saying earlier, Latoya’s not my friend and I didn’t injure her.”

Nicholas pulled out his phone and scrolled through the Foundation updates as if anything that happened was known to everyone within the circle. He scrolled through the pages, becoming more and more engrossed, until he looked up and saw mrs. Daniels leaning on his shoulder, her eyes almost pleading, and brimming with tears. “Then whatever the connection, you’ve definitely done something wrong, because Lucien is the least of your worries,” Nicholas said, placing a hand on her arm. “Unless you’ve already met the nameless?”

Brandi’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. Not too far off, Roger sucked in a deep breath as the trees around them began to rustle and shake. Mrs. Daniels shrieked and went towards the door as if something about this frightened her. “Maybe we should do this inside.”

“Inside?” Brandi looked around at them, as if they all held a little piece of the puzzle that was quickly becoming her life. “What is it that you’re not telling me?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“Someone will show you the past,” Roger began, before Nicholas could cover his mouth.

“But that’s not the crux of it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “In the end, you are the only one who can decide how things will go. Who can be saved.”

Brandi looked at him, not really following because she had no idea about who she would have to choose from and how she would be able to make the final decision. “How am I supposed to decide?” she asked, looking at each of them one by one.

Her mother gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “By conquering your fears and discovering your enemies,” she said, turning and going towards the open door. Nicholas nodded, following her inside. Their fingers joining even before they crossed the threshold. Standing there, Brandi could do nothing but contemplate their union which with every passing day was becoming less and less of a mirage. She could almost see it progressing further in her dreams, and she shuddered, as Roger gave her a plaintive smile.

“Catch you tomorrow,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, there are worse things.”

Like what? Brandi wanted to counter, but held her breath. She didn’t need another person hating her or doubting her reactions she thought as he turned to leave. “Yeah, see you in school,” she said, instead, not even concerned about the nameless one or her opponent because something else more piercing was rising within her. Thoughts of her father.

Chapter 10 : Come Let’s Play!

Somewhere in the distance an alarm-clock sounded. Brandi rose from bed, rubbing her eyes as the sound increased; and then she pressed the buttons, until it became silent. Turning, she withdrew her hand and knocked over a wooden picture-frame, which contained the only photo of her parents in the house, as far as she was aware. The plastic screen thumped out and Brandi stooped to pick it up. Glancing down, on the far right, she noticed a young girl who had been hidden under the border of the frame. She squinted, peered closer because the woman appeared to be looking directly at her father, whose features seemed nonchalant. His back was stiff and head erect. She shook her head, moving closer to the light, thinking that the woman almost looked like Teresa. She shook her head, that would have been impossible. She shoved the picture and the dismembered frame into a drawer. Not believing in coincidences.

As she picked up her phone, which buzzed in her hands. It was already 6:30. Watching the text message flit across the screen, she opened the phone and read it. Be there shortly, T. She dashed towards the wardrobe, pulled out a few dresses that her mother had insisted they buy and then, she dropped them onto the bed. Moving between the space of the bed and the full length mirror, Brandi held up each of the five dresses that she had taken out, and modeled with them until she was down to two. A black dress that seemed to hug her waist and a blue sequined piece that seemed a bit more flashy. She laid the others aside and gave the final two dresses some space, hoping that after a quick shower, it would be easier to decide. All the while also telling herself that everything would be okay, although something else was telling her that it would be wiser to stay away.

But she ignored it. The concoction of cold medicine making her feel as if somehow she was now invincible. She felt her neck, knowing that the fever had already broken and rushed into the bathroom.

She wouldn’t need to think too much about tonight, she thought, her mind becoming hazy, as the cold water sapped her skin. She adjusted the knobs, knowing that at the party she would be nothing more than a spectator: observing couples. Besides, there would be nobody else from their school there, since there was no one called Jason in their grade. Or the one higher. She passed a hand over her abdomen, feeling a thin scar, where her mother had said the wound was healing nicely. But she removed it, because she couldn’t avoid the icky feeling that accompanied the application of the salve, which had somehow remained with her. And yet, it had been a life saver because the arrow hadn’t damaged a vital organ.

She shut off the water, dried her skin and returned to the bedroom, not wanting to think about it, because besides almost failing English, her knowledge of health class was even more iffy. She took her time to get ready, even though, she knew that Teresa would be there soon. It didn’t matter. She had time, she thought, casting a peripheral glance at the pendant.

At the bed, she bit her lip, and decided to go with the black dress and a pair of low heels because the blue dress seemed a little too flashy. As an after thought, Brandi wrapped a matching shawl around her neck and then picked up the pendant. How would she be able to wear it openly? she thought, not wanting to discard the extra abilities that she was almost certain it had given her. Besides, she didn’t want them to be locked away. Or hidden.

So, sending caution to the wind, she removed the shawl and fastened the clasp. The pendant dropped below her unflattering neckline, between an ample bust, as she adjusted the straps, hoping that the pendant’s necklace-effect would make her seem more mysterious, rather than questioning. Brandi slipped her feet into the low heels and walked over to the window to look out. But she wasn’t focusing on the Red Dragon sign that usually held her interest, even though it seemed to be spinning faster than usual, like some sort of homing device.

Instead, she wondered if the more upscale restaurant that her mother worked at, was more crowded. Perhaps even packed, as a slow wind picked up. She took a deep breath and wondered if she was making the right decision to follow Teresa. Or even to go to the party. And whether or not, she should be feeling so much doubt. She passed a hand through her hair, as if deciding, and then moved away from the window to powder her nose.

She had been in bed for most of the week and a little partying never hurt anyone, she assured herself, trying to get rid of a frown. Pouting, she added a thin layer of red lip gloss to her seemingly chapped lips, and brushed back her hair. When she was finished, she dropped the lip gloss and a few other essentials into a purse, before turning off the lights, going downstairs and then out the front door.
*     *
Once outside, she locked the door, pulling the shawl more tightly around her, she pushed the key down into the purse, where the bottle of cough syrup seemed to be fighting for a way out. Drawing a ragged breath, Brandi leaned against the door and shoved it down further, doing her best to zip it close as she heard the sound of a car’s exhaust backfire in the driveway.

Her face lit up when she laid eyes on the yellow hummer, and she saw Teresa’s head pop out through a side window. Her friend waved as the car came to a stop.

“Chica, your chariot awaits,” Teresa gushed from the end of the driveway.

Brandi squealed, moving closer. This was the first time that she had seen Teresa spare no expense and she wondered what was so important that it demanded such exquisite taste and lavish decadence, as her friend got out of the car and pulled her in. She gasped, realizing for the first time how beautiful Teresa was, with her hair up and her sparkly pink dress. A silent smile spreading across her lips until she saw two other bodies pushed into the seats opposite them.

There was Tracy Devers, a slim African American girl she recognized from band, who hardly ever spoke during class and Latoya Evans, her more outspoken cousin. Truth was, Brandi couldn’t stand Latoya, firstly because she talked too much and secondly because she had once ratted her out to Mr. Ono, their math teacher. He was one of the few teachers that Brandi respected. And even though at the time she had been trying to get out of a homework assignment, she could have easily completed, she had blamed Latoya for being sent to the principal’s office and almost getting a two week suspension. Since then, of course, she had sworn never to engage in idle talk with her. But then Teresa smiled at them and nudged Brandi.

“You two know each other, right?”

Brandi nodded, taking a shallow breath, everything inside her body telling her not to rescind, even as she stretched out a hand to them and smiled. “Tracy, Latoya, it’s good to see you again.”

“No,” Latoya said, her eyes steady. “I think the pleasure is all mine.”

Brandi watched, the green peacock feathers on her dress and hat light up in the dim glow of the car’s internal lights before the door closed. Tracy barely grunted and for a second she wanted to kick herself for enacting a truce; even if it was there only to keep Teresa happy, she assured herself as the car sped off and they were on their way.

Chapter 8 : Egg Me On

     Out from school for a few days, Brandi reveled in the fact that she didn’t have to see Mrs. Jenkins or read anything else from her world literature text. Somehow her mother had smoothened things over with the principal, who she had said sounded concerned. Not that Brandi knew what that meant. Idly, she thumped through one of the Glamour magazines that her mother had started reading. Within a few minutes though, she deposited it back onto the desk, thinking that the clothes were too flashy to be hers and the language a bit elevated.

     One of her friends, her mother had assured her, had been given the task of bringing over her assignments. Brandi turned towards the tv screen, trying her best not to think about it, as she pressed the remote and waited for last night’s dvd to load. Suddenly uncomfortable with her current movie genre that included hits like the Amityville Horror, Nosferatu, Little Shop of Horrors and Friday the Thirteenth Part III, she had switched to Pocahontas today because she wanted to be entertained. Instead of, scared out of her whits.

     Alone now, only because her mother had chosen to go out to get another bottle of cough syrup. She adjusted her skirt and shifted her bra strap that was coming down over her shoulder, as she made a quick scan of the room and then fixed her gaze on the screen.

     Peering at the almost empty bottle on the table, near her head, she drained the remains as if it was the last bit of soda pop. Before taking one last sip of the lukewarm tea on the counter, her mother had almost sworn she needed along with daily doses of vitamin C. By the time, her eyes returned to the screen, the opening credits had begun to roll and she adjusted the pillow; her hands trembling momentarily as it reached out to capture the remote and she increased the volume. Hopefully her mother would be back soon, she thought, turning over to make herself more comfortable, because the chair was too lumpy.

     Still groggy an hour later, she got up to answer the doorbell and looked through the peephole. Her eyes hesitating over Teresa.

     She smiled and yanked open the door.

     “Did you have breakfast?” Teresa asked, over the sound of the door closing and the screeching sound on the tv.

     Teresa picked up the remote and lowered the volume; dropping her bag into the seat as it was a person and eyed her friend, with an almost nervous chuckle. “It’s not much fun with you gone. How soon are you going to get better?”

     Brandi inhaled, wondering why the room had suddenly started to spin as she reached out an arm to touch the sofa. “Soon.” She eyed the floor, realizing that she had forgotten her regular flip flops. The bunnies staring up at her. She frowned. Then eyed Teresa. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

     “No.” Teresa gave her a slight shove. “Not when it’s so much later.” She pulled the curtain by the window, waiting for Brandi’s head to turn. For her to see the overcast weather.”

     Brandi nodded. Dropping back into the chair. As if all of this was normal. Teresa nodded her head and walked towards the kitchen.

     “Let me fix you something,” she said, pushing up her shirt sleeves. “What are you having?”

     Brandi looked down at her feet, as if seeing something. “Eggs,” she said, taking a napkin to wipe the perspiration on her neck. “If you know how to scramble it.”

     “Sure, over-easy,” Teresa said, nodding. “It was something her mother also liked.

     Enjoying the room’s ambience, Brandi relaxed into the chair as Teresa knocked over pots and pans, as she tinkered around in the kitchen, getting the utensils and the cutlery, without much difficulty. In the refrigerator, she found two eggs that she cracked onto the side of a bowl, before getting rid of the shell. Beating the mixture with a whisk, she added salt, pepper and a bit of cilantro. Then she put the skillet on the stove, added some butter and then poured everything in.

     It sizzled and she rushed around searching for a spatula to turn it over. Then she diced a tomato and added a leaf from a lettuce onto the plate along with two slices of bread. On the other plate she did the same, before cutting the large egg into two.

     “I didn’t know you could cook,” Brandi said, appreciating the smells that were coming out of the kitchen. With the mounting chores and the extra pressure to complete her homework assignments, she felt as though she was already over extended. Sure there were things that she still needed to learn but then she wasn’t sure where she was going to get the extra time.

     With her friend occupied in the kitchen, Brandi took the time to check the computer for Seers of the past. Prophets and prophesies. Among them, she found Nostradamus to be one of the most prominent names; even though she didn’t really know anything about his quatrains. All she knew was that different people had used it to explain different doomsday prophesies for things that had happened at different times. Brandi, however, couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it.

     Sure, there had to be some measure of truth, she thought. But then who was to be believed? Whose version could she trust as being the one true thing? She looked away from the screen, wondering if Roger had any thoughts about it as she heard Teresa milling around. Should she ask her?

     Explain things, she wondered, uncertain about how that would have changed things. Teresa had been her friend for what may have seemed like forever but she needed someone that she could trust. Someone that she could depend on. And although she wasn’t sure that that person was Teresa, she also wasn’t sure if it was Roger. After all, Nicholas had said that she could be manipulated. She closed her eyes, trying not to equate the addition of one with the subtraction of the other. Since she really didn’t know that much about Roger. And yet he had said that he could help her. Strengthen her powers. She wanted to believe him and yet everything with Teresa had been so sure.

     She closed down the screen, suddenly feeling dizzy. It was almost as if she was the one toy on the playground that everyone wanted to play with. And she had no idea about what to do. Who to leave herself open to – so that she could be claimed. She looked up and caught sight of Teresa, observing her.

     “Thanks,” Brandi said, seeming to prick her. Because there was no way that either of them was play acting, she told herself, watching Teresa who seemed to know too much about her. She felt stumped and strange as she rest down the plate and used a few drops of the antibacterial ointment to clean her hands. She smiled and then took a big bite, hearing a soft buzzing sound, as she tried to focus on he chewing because when the food went down there was no taste. She took a sip of her drink feeling slightly parched; trying to remember what real food tasted like, as she took another bite and nodded to her friend. “You should try the Red Dragons, maybe they would hire you.”

     Teresa looked at her with a strange smile. “Right, I’m sure they’d need some help with their chicken fried rice,” she said, taking a sip from her soda and taking another big bite of her sandwich. “I’m sure you could do the same if you tried,” she said, taking a sudden look at her before turning back to the tv. As Brandi fell. Faltered.

     It was then that the sound became more pronounced. Distracting. What was happening to her? she wondered, sitting up; her body feeling suddenly stiff as she assumed another position. And looked around to find that her plate had been cleared away. Taking a few deep breaths, she sat up on the couch. “Was I out long?”

     “No,” Teresa said, pushing her plate aside; her body moving up and away from the averted frame of the laptop screen. “You sort of fell down and I helped you to the couch.”

     Brandi blinked. She had fainted. Tried to swallow the saliva lodged in the back of her throat. “And did I eat the eggs?”

     “Some of it.” Teresa held up her empty plate and showed some teeth. “I did too.”

     Brandi watched her. Muscles sore. And rubbed her shoulders.

     “I got you some aspirin,” Teresa said, giving her two capsules and a glass of water. Taking a deep breath, Brandi swallowed and waited for the pain to subside. Then as if to change the subject, she cleared away the things and then flopped down on the seat across from the couch. “Are you going to Jason’s party, tonight?”

     “I’m not sure. I could be busy,” Brandi said, holding up an empty bottle of cough syrup.

     “What? Don’t tell me you weren’t invited,” Teresa squawked, taking the bottle and placing it on the coffee table.

     “No, of course not.” Brandi adjusted her hair after putting down the glass. “Besides, they’re not my crowd.”

     Teresa turned her head. “Not a problem. I’m going with Kenny. And I’m almost sure, he has a friend,” Teresa said, walking around the room in her imaginary dress. Slipping a hand into her bag, she extracted the assignment. “I’m sure you’d do your best to get this.”

     Brandi sat up; her feet barely touching the ground. “You wouldn’t do that.”

     “Sure. Why not?” She held out a hand. “Come on, it could be fun.”

     Brandi shook her head, stopping only when the figure in front of her started to become doubled. “This can’t be right. You’re thinking about going to a party with a guy who drinks like a fish?” She put a hand to the side of her lips as if thinking it over, and seeing it for what it was. Another bad idea.

     Teresa raised the paper up in the air again. “No, you’re just not thinking straight. And before you say no, remember that your mum doesn’t come home until late, so there’ll be no one to check up on you. And just this once, we could get wasted.”

     Brandi pulled back, capturing her hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Except I’m fighting off the elements, unless you’ve forgotten that I have a cold.”

     Teresa opened her bag and took out another bottle of cough syrup. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” She put the assignment sheet down. “And if you go, I’ll make sure that you don’t turn into a pumpkin and get home on time.” She stuck out her hand.

     “Deal?”

     Brandi waited, feeling slightly woozy. Forgetting the dream and the thing that had come to her like a premonition. Wanting only to impress her mother, as she glanced at the assignment sheet. “And where are we meeting?”

     “In the grove, under the almond tree,” Teresa said, helping her friend to sit up properly in the chair. “By seven but until then please take a rest.”

     Brandi nodded, holding onto Teresa, thinking how fortunate she was to have her as the door closed. Sitting there, she assured herself that she would be better soon, even though the pain in her side refused to subside. With slow fingers; she ran down the list of things she would have to do for her assignments as her eyes narrowed on the essay about heroes that was due in a week. She would need to make some headway, she thought, getting up. She carried the bottle of medicine to her room and retrieved the pendant from the small jewelry box her mother had given her.

     Holding it, she told herself that things would return to normal soon, so that she could with a little help from her eyeshadow and lipgloss. Make it to the party and still get home at a reasonable hour. Besides Teresa had assured her, and she had never known her friend to lie.

Chapter 7: A Hint of What’s to Come

Waiting at the table alone, after he had gone, Brandi thought back to her encounter with Roger Barnes. Was he really her guardian? she thought, pushing the finished literature assignment aside. Their teacher had asked them to do some research on Valkyries, but Brandi feared her half-assed attempt was tepid at best, as she played with the cup of cocoa on the table. Not sure if she could even bring it to her lips, as she thought over her current predicament. Firstly, she reasoned, she could  talk to her mother, and see what sort of decision she should take. But then her mother was too moody and would probably nudge her away from doing anything that had to do with the foundation. Or being a Seer. Not that she had figured out what either one entailed.

She shrugged. Turning the saucer yet again. Her mind running to Nicholas. She had only seen him once or twice after the incident and still she felt frazzled just thinking about the damage that had been done. How she had screwed up royally and like always put herself in danger. But then again, maybe unlike her mother he would have no reason to rebuff her, she thought, thinking back to that look of calm she had seen in his eyes when he had assured her that he was taking her home.

And she bit her lip, thinking that maybe they both knew something that up until now they had been unwilling to share.

And she turned towards the frosty glass, thinking that rain was probably on its way. And that she had been a fool to let Roger walk out with her umbrella. He wasn’t dependable, she thought, thinking about how he had rebuffed her. Not that she would have considered him hero material, even though he had a varsity jacket and some of the other baseball players seemed to look up to him. No, to her, he’s just a boy she had pegged as a loggerhead. A dumb jock. Someone who would chime in with jokes whenever the class seemed a little slow. Or boring. But then again, she wasn’t A class material either, she thought, looking at her bitten down cuticles and sketchy ensemble. No. She was nothing like Teresa who could play the trumpet and the bugle and had somehow gotten an honorary place on the band. She sighed, fidgeting, feeling around her neck for the pendant with its now turquoise hue.

She had seen many shades of blue before. but this one was different. it almost reminded her of the ocean, she thought, when she heard that strange sound again. A sound that reminded her of the chimes of a Buddhist monastery, like the one she had visited with uncle Ken, when he ad first been diagnosed and wanted to release any negative energy. Before the transportation.

But unlike that prayer room (where people assumed different poses) here there were couples with numbers, moving back and forth across a tiled floor that resembled a dance floor. She held her breath hearing the music change from jazz to country to rock. And like people pumped with adrenaline, the couples performed various dances. Smiles painted on their faces as a red headed DJ made a signal to the ceiling and the disco ball started to spin.

Strobe lights followed the contestants as Brandi found herself out on the floor. Looking down at her feet, she saw tap dancing shoes and feeling around her back, her hand brushed against a number.

She was one of them. She almost shrieked, trying to take the number off as someone walked forward and grabbed her hand. It was then that Brandi awoke from her dream. Then that the hollow sound of her scream filled the air as the cup on the table shattered and all eyes turned in her direction; before the strobe lights faded and the chimes sounded once more.

“Hey kid. Are you alright?” a girl with a paige’s haircut asked, holding the menu to her chest as if she was too afraid to get any closer.

Brandi eyeballed the waitress, uncertain about the corporeal nature of her being – as she flattened down her air and wiped her lips in her shirt. She shook her head, wondering what alright meant when she was almost certain that she had probably touched a skeleton. She stood up, shaking herself out, before turning back to her purse and pulling out a twenty.

“Sorry for the hassle,” she said, wondering if there were many episodes of daymares as she turned to appraise the waiting crowd, who slowly took their eyes off her. “Must have been something I drank,” she said, shoving her books in her bag as the waitress stooped to pick up her shattered teacup.

Her back straightened as she eyed Brandi and then turned back to the man who was still positioned behind the counter. “Or maybe you should leave now,” she said, her voice seeming entirely peculiar as she stood back up and watched Brandi collect her things. The crowd today had been slow enough without being stilted.

Some of the patrons continued to stare, even as Brandi took her load and made it to the door. So much for strange and unusual, she thought, passing her hands through her hair. Maybe she was the one who was cursed and not Roger, she thought, closing the door, as drops of rain started to fall on her uncovered head. She turned the handle of the door, hoping to get back in and saw the waitress smile as the sign changed from Come In We’re Open to Sorry We’re Closed. Please come back later.

Dropping her bag to the floor, she grunted against the weight of the world literature book that seemed heavier than she remembered it, and moved towards her bike. Jutting out of one of the handle bars a piece of white paper waited for her. She opened it, wondering if this was another one of Roger’s pep talks.

Beware, it said, as Brandi dropped the bag into the carrier bin. What was there to be afraid of? she wondered, kicking aside the prop stand and getting on. And who would leave her such a note. She shook her head; her mind going back to the waitress who had glared at her. But then they didn’t know each other before today, she assured herself. Unless this was somebody who was just out to make a joke. She turned right and then left; her mind going briefly to the unseen number and the packed dance floor. It wasn’t like she was going to any party. At any club, any time soon, she thought, hating herself for not packing a sweater as she chose to speed home through the rain that was quickly becoming a squall.

Chapter Six – Discover Your Guardian

A few days later, after Teresa had calmed down, Brandi shared some details with her about the strange encounter with Roger. Thinking that things were now back to normal and she could feel some ease, she tried to highlight how perceptive he had seemed, until Teresa butted in.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Teresa said, her voice elevated. Brandi shoved the mouthpiece a few inches away from her face and waited for a pause before continuing.

“I don’t.” She stared at the phone, trying to figure out what her friend was trying to insinuate and took a deep breath. “I’m not interested in him, not in the least.”  She waited for Teresa’s response.

“Of course you’re not,” Teresa chirped, playing devil’s advocate. “Who in their right mind would be interested in Roger Barnes? He’s one of those boys who’s clueless about love. And too besides, you know absolutely nothing about baseball.”

Brandi pursed her lips, hating her friend for being so blunt. Remembering how during soccer practice, they had made fun of girls like Jane Scott, the team’s captain who chose to wear shin pads and tugs both on and off the field. And yet Brandi had liked her. Not that she would have admitted it to her friend. Once she had even asked Jane for pointers and gone to a few extra practice sessions on Saturdays. Hoping to somehow hang onto her spot, even though she mostly warmed the bench.

She cleared her throat as an uncomfortable silence built up on the other end of the phone. Maybe they were both wrong, she thought, seeing the way Jane’s face had lit up when she gave her instructions. Her brown freckles spreading from her nose to the rest of her face, as she became even more animated and gestured with her hands. Brandi nodded slowly, envisioning him the way he had been after their last meeting, surrounded by friends. Maybe baseball held a similar fascination for Roger, she thought suddenly measuring herself and feeling as though she was lacking.

“No, he’s different.” She leaned closer to the counter, suddenly feeling very small, as her words escaped into the air.

“What do you mean?” Teresa asked, sensing a rift between them. Her voice elevating to an even higher pitch as Brandi passed a hand over her stomach and wiped away the cloudy liquid that was running down the side of her bandage. Cradling the phone between her head and neck, she moved towards the paper towels and ripped out a few, then she moved towards the sick and washed her hands, trying to remember what her mother had said about the salve – a purplish ointment – she had given her that morning, which she had said would prevent scarring.

“Our lives should revolve around books and boys and parties,” Teresa said, baring down on her. Brandi shifted her position by the sink, thinking that her friend had somehow misspoken. Forgetting all the talk of books and grades and external expectations, as she pulled out a chair and took a seat.
“Don’t you agree?”

Obediently, Brandi nodded, giving herself over to her friend’s words as if nothing else mattered. Not even her own resignation. In their short time together, Teresa routinely reminded her about the fact that they had been born twenty nine days apart. Teresa of course leading not just by weight and height but also by hours and days. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said, turning to eye the clock. Trying to piece together the length of their conversation, because she would need to apply more salve and then change the dressing.

“Ok,” Teresa huffed. “Try not to sound too enthusiastic. It’s not my fault nobody’s ever met his parents or seen his siblings.” Forgetting for a second that she was on the phone, Brandi nodded and then said, “Sure.” Wondering what had implored her to call or even to start this discussion.

And then she remembered her promise to give her friend a second chance. To start over. Even though, Teresa still hadn’t apologized. She had only acted as though things hadn’t changed between them. And her mother had seemed calmer, reassured when she had witness their playful banter the day before. Perhaps sensing, like her, that everything was returning to normal. So, there would be no talk of her mother’s connection to Nicholas. Or the people in the diner who probably wanted her dead.

She shook her head, remembering her talk with her mother that morning; she had been the one to speculate about the death part, while encouraging Brandi to make a few changes with her life.

“Forget the necklace,” she insisted, offering one of her empty jewelry cases. “Put it somewhere safe, where no one will touch it.”

“But this is what I want,” Brandi had informed her, wiping away fierce tears that refused to be abated, as she gritted her teeth, trying her best to endure the fresh application of salve that had accompanied the changing of her bandage. Her hand stopping her mother mid-turn.

Then their eyes had met and her mother appeared to see reason when Brandi told her about resuming talks with Teresa. Now though, when she bowed her head, she felt a slight pain in her side as Teresa’s breathy sigh caught her off-guard. Maybe she was exercising or doing some dance Brandi thought, thinking about the questionnaire they had both filled out during camp, where her friend had also admitted to having an interest in aikido.

“Not hearing about his parents is strange,” Teresa said, as if forgetting that there were people in their school who were part of the foster care system. Along with others who lived with relatives. Brandi opened her mouth to speak, wondering if  her friend had forgotten about the sister she had failed to mention, but then stopped when she heard something that resembled a curse. “No, parents. No, siblings, no life.”

Brandi gasped, feeling uncertain. She knew little about Roger. But thinking of him as alone made her uncomfortable. Especially since she had only just learned about Teresa’s sister, so that feeling of being snubbed, of not being worthy or trusted with important information still lingered. After all, she had spoken about her grandmother, mentioned how shitty she had felt about leaving her behind, and how she had first been against the idea of the retirement home, until her grandmother had started walking out of the house and wandered the streets. She had even gotten lost in the drinks section of the grocery store when Brandi had turned to get water.

And then there was Nicholas. The man who had saved her and was probably smitten by her mother. Not that she could easily broach the topic, without being reminded of just how immature she still was. Or how much she needed to grow. She bit her lip, lamenting the fact that since the accident – incident, she didn’t have anyone to talk to. And that had unnerved her, because now she was the one keeping secrets, because she wasn’t sure if Teresa could handle the fact of untrue things coming true. So until she was certain, she had to keep her mouth shut about her powers. And the pendant. Not that she had figured everything out.

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Brandi asked, her mind tuning into Teresa’s last few words. Wasn’t it wrong to wish someone harm, she thought, appraising herself in the metallic sheen of the refrigerator.

“No,” the voice on the other end said, coming in one sharp burst. Brandi cradled the phone to her ear, wondering if her friend was indeed winded, as she heard the slamming of a door. Was she only now getting home? Brandi asked herself  as the thud of bolts greeted her pause. She looked across at the clock. It was only 7:30. She pulled back, away from the fridge, feeling slightly bloated and patted her stomach. With the tear to her side, she hardly felt like eating, picking slowly at a bunch of grapes that her mother kept at the side of the sink for her smoothies. She plucked a few, washed them and then ate.

“Were you going out to get the paper?” Brandi asked, spitting out the seeds, as her friend’s breath slowed, and she heard the flickering of a light.

“That’s none of your business,” Teresa intoned, “you just stay clear of him.” What? the voice in her head asked, before she was greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Convinced that their final exchange was indeed surreal, Brandi replaced the receiver; wondering if things like witches were real. She remember the previous summer, back at camp when along with a group of Teresa’s friends they had snuck out and gone to one of the counselor’s homes to watch The Craft. Some nineties movie about teenagers, who were trying to learn more about witchcraft and how one of the girls had ended up being duped by her friends. She hadn’t enjoyed it much, although Teresa’s friends had so enthralled that they were repeating some of the dialogue word for word as they threw popcorn at the screen. Then a slight shiver had run down her back, hearing their. That chorus of voices, filled with some evil intent. Now she felt a similar shiver run down her spine and prickle her skin as she thought of Teresa and Roger. Was there a need for such ill-will and bad intent? she wondered, adjusting her hair into a bun, with the scrunchy that had been wound around her wrist. She let out a shallow breath, thinking that such things were not for her to know. Or consider, as she remembered Cheryl, the woman from their Sunday School group who had been a victim of domestic violence that her mother had unwilling put up.

Once back when they were closer, she had asked her why there were such things in the world and her mother had told her that people lead the lives they lead, sometimes out of fear. When she had prodded her further, she had said that maybe they couldn’t do any better. Now, she wondered if that was what her friend was doing, by hoping for the worst. And she felt slightly confused, and ashamed, that she had pressed her more and willed her to think about things for the right.

And she willed herself to try. Thinking that her cousin Avery and uncle Ken had faced insurmountable odds almost every other day, as they met with opposition almost at every other turn. Like last semester when Avery had had to miss her piano recital because her father had had to be rushed to the hospital. Not that the nurses had been willing to admit her even though her mother had been away visiting relatives, and the doctors had had to vouch for and assure her safety. Grunting, she dropped the soggy paper towels into the trash, wondering when they would see each other again, as uncle Ken, aunty Pam and the girls were quickly becoming a distant memory.

And she shrugged, thinking that whether or not she talked to Roger, wouldn’t make the world come to an end. Or change things. After all, Uncle Ken was her uncle, illness or not and Teresa would remain her friend no matter who she talked to.

Besides which, as far as she knew, Roger had no interest in either school gossip or dissing Mrs. Jenkins. Brandi smirked, realizing that now was as good a time as any for her to go back to the diner. The place where all of this had started, even though her mother strictly forbade it. Holding the pendant, she told herself to trust her instincts, because so far, it was the only thing that seemed sure. Prickly with sweat, she changed her t-shirt and then darted through the door. Certain that either way, the Roger Barnes mystery, as Teresa liked to call it would remain just that, a mystery, because as far as she knew there was nothing between them.
#     #
One week after her incident in the diner, Brandi returned there to complete some school work. Pushing the books aside and taking a bite of her hamburger, her face lit up, momentarily, when Barnes walked in. He took a seat at the counter, ordered a cheese burger, fries and an orange soda. Looking at him she wondered where all the food went. With a slim frame, he stood at an even six feet. His body mass a whopping 150, she had heard him boast to one of his baseball friends.

No longer feeling too hungry, Brandi adjusted the English textbook on the table. After Soujourner Truth, Mrs. Jenkins had turned to Dickens and then Shakespearean sonnets. She wasn’t exactly sure if World English was the best way to learn English literature. But for now at least, she was trying to keep up. If only her teacher would let them read someone like Sandra Cisneros or Isabel Allende, she thought, the task would not be so difficult.

There was something alluring about Spanish Literature, with its allegories. The fantastic tales seemed to suggest things to the reader that made other texts seem bland. The somber tones of O’Neill for example and Dickens with his tales about orphans and lonely boys. Those stories had nothing to do with her, she thought, taking a sip of her grape juice. She had her mother and they lived in a really great place.

“So superficial,” a voice above her said. She turned and looked up. Roger stared down at her. What had she said? She turned the page away from Dickens.

“Dickens isn’t as far off as you might think,” he said, taking a sip of his soda. “His stories may not seem relevant to you. But there are things there.”

“Like what?” She challenged as he took a seat next to her and placed his food down on the table.

He inclined his head, as if trying to see if she was being serious. “You may have your mother but you’re still alone. The same way that David is alone, before he figures out his past and learns who his real friends, or better yet who his relatives…are.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out why all of this was important to him. “And what about you?” she asked. “No one knows nothing.”

“Anything,” he said, correcting her. “No one knows anything.”

“Right.” She nodded, wondering why she had made such a silly grammatical mistake. “Do you have a family?”

He smiled as if expecting her question. Did she know what she was getting into? she asked herself as he pulled out a baseball glove from his back pocket. “Yes, I have a family,” he said, opening the worn glove. “Or at least people whom I consider family.” He presented it to her.

In it Brandi saw names, written displayed in a manner that resembled a family tree. At the bottom left, she saw the name Barnes, Roger. And on the opposite side there was a Daniels, B. She frowned. Confused. Were they related? she wondered, pushing the glove across to him. Could that person be her?

Roger shook his head, rubbing the smooth surface with his hand. “It’s okay, they’re not referring to you. Even though we are related.”

“Are we?” she asked as the waiter appeared with his order and placed another tray in front of him. It was another burger, shake and medium fries.

“Ah danke,” he said, taking a sip of his drink and beaming up at the waiter. Then his features changed and he became a little bit more serious as his eyes narrowed and he surveyed Brandi. “Have you done what I asked?”

“You know German?” She closed the book, not sure how she knew the name of the language. Taking a sip of her cola, she nodded.

“Yes, I know a few things,” he said, waiting for her to answer his question while he gobbled down his second burger.

“You said that I needed to be prepared,” she said, pulling out a yellow and white umbrella. “So this morning, almost certain of rain, I took the bus and carried my umbrella.”

He coughed, dropping the last piece of burger patty back onto the plate. His eyes inspected hers as he took a gulp of his drink. “It’s a little more than just that Brandi. You have to look around you because the man who gave you that scar and sent an arrow through your abdomen wasn’t out playing hide and go seek.” He leaned forward, his voice low. Controlled. “He sat right here, where I am sitting now, and he waited for you because he wants you to reveal who you are so that he can figure out what you are capable of.”

“And what’s that exactly?” she asked, leaning closer to him.

“You can’t just see what is to come. You alone can change the outcome. Open up new possibilities.”

“How do you know all of this?” she asked, leaning closer, her mouth open.
“Like I said, we’re related.” He looked up as if fishing for a word. “Connected.” His mouth formed into a smile. “Every seer needs a guardian…” he paused, as if for effect. His eyes zeroing in on hers, “And I am yours.” Her head tilted to one side and her lips opened and closed.

“A guardian?” she asked as he went back to work and wolfed down his fries. His sandy hair wafting in the wind.

“It’s not just about appearances,” he said, dusting his hands in his pants and zipping up his battered jacket. “There are forces out there that are a lot greater and stronger than us. Forces your father fought and you will also have to fight. I am here to make you ready until the time approaches.”

What time? She wondered, looking out the window towards the darkness that so far he alone could fully know. He had to make her ready, she thought rearranging the condiments on the table. There was no other way. She took a deep breath, hoping that she was making the right choice as she struck out her palm.

He took it, giving her hand a firm shake. A seer had to do whatever was necessary to prevent time from repeating itself. So Brandi would have to become a warrior. Not a fourteen year old school girl. She had to be able to look beyond and prevent the future from being meddled with.  Or the past altered. Roger lifted his head. There was no time to fill her in. Now she would have to learn from the stories of the past, how to look forward to the future because soon there would be little else.

“So you know about my father,” she said, feeling even more confused, when he nodded.

“You aren’t the only one who has powers that have been passed down,” he said, stretching his arms. “Sometime ago our fathers shared a similar bond. My father was your father’s guardian before they were both lost. So yes, I’ve heard of Van Elder. Among us he is somewhat of a legend.”

Brandi blushed, wondering if it would be the same for her. For them.

“But the ability to train your mind to see takes time. Action,” Roger cautioned. “You have to be more aware of your surroundings so that during recall, you can see the things that are most important and then influence what is to come. This is how you will become better.”

“Of course,” Brandi said, suddenly becoming more serious.

“But before you can become a full fledged seer, you will have to undergo the trials of Terrors. Or in layman’s terms your first test.” He took a final sip of his soda and threw the cup across the room into a rectangular dumpster. A few people cheered and Brandi pulled back, eyeing him suspiciously. Roger nodded, as if knowing that he would have to do something else to convince her. He stood up and whispered a few words into her ear. “I will tell you as your task approaches, but read your stories and look for clues. They alone will tell you how you should act.”

Brandi opened and closed her eyes, as if taking everything in, for posterity. Her mind recording even the small movements: of Roger returning the glove to his pants pocket, the assortment of bills he dropped onto the counter and the military salute that he performed before walking through the door.

Brandi shook her head and bit down hard on her bottom lip. Something had to be wrong, she thought, her mind replaying the news of Roger’s announcement, that he was her guardian.