Chapter 15
I wait for it. The sound of a friend’s cry as they lose control, for it will be the sound of my impending doom. But nothing. I wait for it. My body being thrown away, crushed against the solid wall as the building around me comes crashing down. But nothing. I wait for it. Anything. But nothing.
“Mitchell!”
I open one eye, just enough to keep my vision blurred, afraid of what I might find.
“Mitchell!” Aimee screams again, this time, her tone much sterner. “Help me!”
No longer blurred, I open my eyes fully to a sight that should stun me, or at least make me second guess what I’m seeing, any normal person would, but I’ve seen this before. Aimee is suspended in mid-air, much like Matthew was when his power manifested, only she is conscious, twirling around as if she was swimming through the air. “Well don’t just stand there!” she yells “Help me!”
“I can’t,” I reply, remembering the last time I attempted to help Matthew, I was thrown away, discarded like old garbage.
Beginning to panic, she lets out a distressing moan and kicks with her legs, like she’s trying to propel herself towards the sofa. Only it causes her to rotate lengthways until her head is facing the ground. She tries to correct this, trashing her hand at the floor, but she’s an inch too far from it and is unable to make contact, so she gives up in a huff. “Please Mitchell, can’t you just slowly guide me back to the sofa?”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I ask, trying to avoid making eye contact as her hair has fallen out of the ponytail and droops down, looking as if she’s purposely spiked it, and if circumstances were different, I’d laugh.
“What!?” she throws her hands out to me. “Of course, it’s safe. What do you think is going to happen?”
Nervously reaching out to her, my hands begin to shake the closer I come to making contact. This time, there’s no strange lights, no knock to the gut, nothing. Relieved, I begin poking her numerous times, jabbing at her skin to be sure it’s not a fluke.
“You done?” she asks.
“Oh, sorry!” I reply, grabbing her wrist and pulling her slowly. It doesn’t take much for me to move her, a slight tug to the arm and she’s vertical to the ground, making it a lot easier to guide her weightless body through the air until she is hovering over the sofa. “This ok?” I ask.
“Prefect.” She confirms, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
Moments later she begins to descend, gracefully lowering herself onto the cushions, then her eyes spring open, back to their normal colour and she leaps to her feet. “That’s better.” She cheers with a pleasant grin.
Unconvinced, I take a step back, which she notices. “Please don’t tell anyone.” She begs. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, or to use my power while competing.”
“That was your power?” I ask, with my back to the wall.
She raises an eyebrow. “Well… yeah.”
Confused, I try and work out exactly what it was I’d just saw. Mine is obvious, fire and destruction. Simple. Matthew’s power is light that can pack a punch, again, simple. Even Talia’s was kind of simple, earth’s energies and all that. But hers, I just can’t put my finger on it, it wasn’t flashy and loud. It wasn’t forceful, showy or anything like that. “You’re telling me your power is to… float?”
“I don’t float!” She snaps. “I’ll think you’ll find it’s called levitating, or like, flying.” She slumps down onto the sofa and leans into the corner with a huff.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, sitting beside her as a gesture to show I’m sorry. “But, I was just expecting fireworks or a light display, something with a little more… boom.”
“Boom?” She lets out a girly giggle, bouncing her messy hair. “Why on earth would I do anything like that?”
Why indeed. I’d forgotten not all powers have to end in pain, doom and disaster.
Unable to say it aloud with her eyes staring at me, I walk to the light, shyly playing with the cord. “Well, you know?”
She looks at me vacantly, then to the ground, then back to me. “Nope! I have now idea?” she chirps, blissfully in a state of ignorance.
I didn’t think it would be this difficult, I’ve already told one person who was fine with it, but this is different, I don’t know Aimee that well, and have no idea how she’ll react. “How else do you think I knew you used your powers?”
She continues to look at me vacantly, narrowing her eye in. “So,” – she hesitates – “you’re saying you have a power too?”
I nod, to which her face lights up, followed by a high pitched squeal as she leaps to her feet and grabs my hands, shaking them as she jumps up and down on the spot. “I’ve never met anyone else like me before. I just knew there had to be others and of all the people, it’s you!”
I can’t decide whether I should feel offended by her accusation. Why couldn’t it be me? I’m just like everyone else, albeit quiet and somewhat a recluse. Does that mean I’m not worthy of such a… gift? Or is it that these powers are meant for people that are more ‘out there?’ The Matthew’s and Aimee’s of this world.
“Yes,” I confirm, beginning to feel dizzy. “I’m a Half-Breed too.”
Stopping immediately, she releases and drops my hands. “Is that what we’re called?... Cool!” Then, she stands in front of the mirror, posing while repeatedly calling herself a Half-Breed. All the while I pretend to busy myself, as the sight of her makes me want to cringe, laugh and in a strange way, join in.
“Oh!” She yells, making me flinch. “The mark. You must have it too?” And with that she pounces on me, pulling at my t-shirt collar, stretching it out of shape.
Pushing her hands away, I stumble back and rub my shoulder. “Whoa! What are you trying to do to me?”
Physical contact and me? No. Personal space is a must at all times. If only I’d been given the power of force fields – if that even exists – then I could have a permanent one around me at all times.
She takes a step back. “I was just trying to see if you had the mark like I do.”
“What mark?”
“The mark, you know?”
I think back to that night in the gardens, Talia didn’t mention anything about a mark. Maybe she’s unaware of it too?
Her eyes light up. “You don’t know…” she guesses, pulling her leotard to the side, exposing a neat little black mark on her collarbone, much like a tattoo. “It appeared after I came into my power.”
With black lines, almost scratch-like, shooting out from her collar bone, it resembles that of the sun, irradiating its power outward. And although I already know I haven’t got that mark, I can’t help but double check my collar bone, both sides, just in case. “No,” I confirm. “No mark.”
“From what I’ve read, it’s the mark of the Celestial. And there are others, just like us, out there with the same mark, always on the collar bone. Most of them do not even know why they have it, or where I came from.”
Could this just be a Celestial thing I wonder? Of the two of us, Matthew would be the more likely candidate to display the marking. If only I could speak with him and ask, but it’s become far too awkward now.
“Will all gymnasts who competed in today’s event please return to the main hall.” The blaring tannoy announces.
At the mirror, before it finishes, Aimee composes herself and fixes her hair, holding a band in her mouth as she pulls it back into a ponytail. “Can you come to my house tomorrow?” She asks.
“I guess.”
“Awesome! Now get back to your seat.” She orders, pushing me out the door. “And keep those fingers crossed!”
Unable to face a crowd – or Riley – I remain backstage, sitting on one of the many spare chairs, trying to convince myself the last ten minutes did actually happen, and Aimee really is a Half-Breed. And it isn’t long before I hear the audience cheer as the winner’s name is called out, which I sneak a peek. It’s a girl with blonde hair I recognise from college, who
normally gives me dodgy looks whenever I enter the canteen. I try and be happy for her, but in truth, while watching, I wanted her to fail. Losing out to the blonde doesn’t seem to bother Aimee too much, as she’s her usual jolly self when she accepts her medal for third place, throwing the award-giver a quick tight hug as she poses for a photo with her prize.
The performers have barely left the stage when most of the audience begin to vacate the building. But not me, I decide to keep my distances, watching from the back as people barge into each other as they bundle the one and only exit.
“There you are!” yells Riley. With all the drama that has gone on backstage, I’d completely forgotten about him.
“I’ve been sat alone.” He fumes. “What would I have done if Aimee came over to talk? Mumble at her!?
I try my hardest to take him seriously, but his freckles and blues eyes can never give off an angry vibe. “I’m sorry, but something happened,” – I take a quick scan of the hall – “I need to tell you, but not here.”
By now the hall is nearly deserted, apart from the cleaners stacking away the apparatus, and parents waiting to collect their children. Which allows us to rush through the reception and into the busy carpark with ease. Continuing onward away from the angry motorist, we come across a small seating area adjacent to the main hall which I guess used to be a small garden. Only unlike the main hall, this place has not been rejuvenated; there’s a lone bench which has succumbed to the elements, surrounded by a dull brown grass patch and overgrown bushes.
Remaining out of sight from everyone, we choose to stand and lean against the grey stone wall, rather than use the bench, figuring its rotten wood wouldn’t be able to hold our weight. “So, something happened?” questions Riley.
Once again, I find myself in a position where I need to use words to explain a situation that is completely out of the norm, and somewhat absurd. Taking a deep breath, I decide to dive right in. “It’s Aimee.” I begin.
“Oh no,” he interrupts, pacing back and forth with his head in his hands. “She made a pass at you, didn’t she?”
“Of course not!” I shoot back, astonished he’d even think such a thing.
Lost in his mind, he continues to walk the length of the rundown garden. “I knew it! I knew it!” he rants. “I should have just sucked it up and spoke to her, but no, I had to leave it to you.”
“Riley! No one made a pass at anyone.” I try – unsuccessfully – to get through to him, but he’s passed the point of listening, instead he continues to criticise himself for being so stupid and missing his opportunity.
Eyes glazed, he turns to me. “And now I’ve basically thrown you two together, haven’t I?”
Unable to take his insistent whining any longer I grab him by the shoulders and yell. “She’s a Half-Breed!”
Silence follows. Only the sound of Riley’s heavy breathing can be heard as he tries to reclaim back the air he’s missed out on during his outburst. “Oh,” he calmly sighs. “She’s… like you?”
“Yes, like me,” I confirm. Although I’m still uncertain what I am. “I think she’s had her power a while and she’s done a little research, which might be beneficial to me.”
Still panting, Riley’s face begins to melt, becoming somewhat calmer. “She can shoot fire or light up her skin?” he questions.
“No, she can… float.” I reply.
“Like flying?”
“I don’t think so,” – I screw up my face – “she just kind of… floats.” I reconfirm.
“Well, that sucks,” Riley grunts. “What a boring power.”
Both sat perched against the stone wall, I explain what happen backstage, which he carefully listens to. He’s probably more relieved to hear nothing happened between us – he must really have it bad for her. Then it leads me to her invite, which I’m hesitant to tell him about, but he takes rather well. “You’ll need me there,” he urges. “I’m your coach. I need to know what’s going on.”
In a funny kind of way, he really is. From the moment he found out about me and my power he’s been nothing short of supportive. He even seems to have a better understanding of the whole power situation. And it’s all from comic books, internet and movies; somewhere along the line, he’s out geeked me. Although I’d never tell him this. Ever.
Having taken the seat on the far end, mum left the only available space next to me. Which Matthew had to – reluctantly – take. He looks bulkier than he used to, and it’s only been a short space of time since I’ve properly seen him. He must be at the gym constantly as his arms look as if they’ll split the sleeves of his t-shirt if he gets any bigger, but I guess it beats coming home to your Daemonically possessed brother.
“Alright?” he grunts.
“Yeah,” I awkwardly reply. “You?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to interrupt this in-depth conversation,” mum mocks, spooning a medium sized portion of spaghetti pasta onto her plate. “But Mitchell, how was the gymnastics competition?”
“It was good.” I nod, twirling my fork and knotting the strings of pasta. “My friend Aimee came third.”
“Oh! Is this a new girlfriend of yours?” She smirks, nudging Matthew and signalling him to join in with terrorising me. Normally, it wouldn’t take much for him to playfully grill me, but this time he barely even glances in my direction.
“No.” I moan.
“Ok,” she says with a wink. “If you say so.”
The room is then hit by an awkward silence and only the sound of cutlery can be heard. Two things I’ve come to learn about our kitchen table, firstly, get here before Matthew to get your fair share. Secondly, never ask me about girls or my love life; I don’t have one and it makes the whole room feel awkward. But it would seem she isn’t quite done yet, as she begins eyeing up Matthew, who’s completely oblivious to it all, as he shovels bolognese sauce covered pasta into his mouth. “What about you, Matthew?” she asks.
Confused, he grunts. “What about me?
“Any girls on the horizon?”
He begins to choke, coughing bits of half chewed pasta across the table. “Really mum?” He struggles to breathe. “Really?”
Three things I’ve come to learn at our kitchen table, never ask Matthew about girls or his love life, as he doesn’t have one and will spray you with food if you ask.
This time, the awkwardness is unbearable, Matthew, red in the face returns to his food and mum sulkily pushes a meatball around her plate. “Well, I’m sorry if I want to take an interest in my son’s lives, you’ve both been so distance recently.” She sighs. “I just worry for you both.”
This doesn’t help lighten the mood, far from it. Matthew freezes, staring down at his near-finished plate and I begin to stuff my mouth, wanting to finish as quickly as possible so I can leave. Of course, she has a right to be worried, she should be, but there’s nothing we could say to make her feel any better; not the truth anyways. If we did, would she even believe us?
“We’re both fine mum,” Matthew says, his voice still slightly strained from the coughing fit. “We’ve both just been really busy, isn’t that right Mitchell?”
Chewing swiftly to down my mouthful of food and swallowing too soon, I nearly choke myself, but am able to struggle an answer. “Yeah, busy with college and stuff.”
“See, you’ve nothing to worry about.” He adds, returning to his food.
Now overcome with a sad atmosphere, I watch as mum vacantly stares at her plate, she knows something's wrong, but won’t push it any further.
Finishing dinner before everyone else, a first when eating with Matthew, I make a start on the dishes. Matthew, finishing shortly after me, puts his plate down on the side for me, followed by mum, who offers to help, but I decline.
Staring out the mist-covered window, I start to wonder how many Half-Breeds there are out there and the types of different powers they must have? Talia confirmed we weren’t the only ones, and Aimee proves that, but why does she have a m
ark and I don’t?
For once I decide to complete my coursework in advance, rather than leave it until the last minute, so I spend most my evening on that. As a yawn sets in, I make my way to the shower room to clean my teeth only to bump into Matthew along the way, who emerges from a steam filled room, sporting only a towel around his waist and flat wet hair stuck to his forehead. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbles.
“No problem,” I reply.
We both take a step in the same direction, then the opposite, awkwardly laughing as we try and pass each other. Knowing this could go on for some time, I stop in my tracks and let him pass. That’s when it hits me, his collar bone is bare, like mine, displaying no markings. Maybe not all Half-Breeds get them? Otherwise, does that mean we’re not Half-Breeds?
And if so, then what are we?