Rising (7 page)

“Take a right at the next light,” interrupted
Clara.

I turned then crossed over Bayou Rouge.
 
The morning fog had lifted, revealing the
glassy surface of the slow-moving bayou.
 
I had used all of my energy to push back the cloudiness that came with
Clara, and I almost felt normal now.

“I was wondering,” she said finally.
 
“I was wondering why at school you’re
basically rude to me, then all of a sudden today you offer me a ride home.”

I was caught off guard.
 
Most girls I knew would never be so
straightforward about what they were thinking.
 
I glanced at her again.
 
Her eyes
were fixed on me.
 
Actually, she was looking
all around me in this bizarre way.
 
Was
there something wrong with my hair or something?
 
I combed my hand over my head.
 
She had a sort of surprised look on her face
then focused forward.

“I’m not rude to you,” I said defensively.

“That’s a lie,” she said, chuckling to herself.

“I, well, I don’t mean to be.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it,” she
said with a little sigh.
 
“At least tell
me why you suddenly decided to be nice for once.
 
I mean, I’m grateful, but it was kind of
strange since we never speak at school.
 
Like, ever.”

Was she for real?
 
I’d never heard a girl just say whatever she
was thinking.
 
They were usually more
calculating and secretive, trying to hide their thoughts and feelings.
 
This was always pretty funny to me, since I
knew exactly what they were feeling and could usually figure out what they were
thinking from there.
 
Somehow, whatever
came out of their mouths usually contradicted what I sensed on the inside. I
figured this was probably why I rarely dated.
 

“It just looked like you needed a ride,” I
finally said, trying not to sound irritated.

“Fair enough.
 
I suppose I’m being rude pointing out your rudeness, huh?”

She was infuriating to say the least.
 
I laughed under my breath.

“What?” she asked with a straight face.

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you just say whatever you’re thinking
whenever you want?”

“Oh, yeah, pretty much.
 
My mom says I’m too much like my dad, always
blurting whatever pops into my head.
 
Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said.
 
“It’s nice.”

I meant it.

“Oh, a compliment.
 
I’m going to remember that the next time you
shun me in Mrs. Jaden’s class.”

I glanced at her again, wondering how she could
say such blunt things in such a carefree way.
 
She tossed her ponytail lightly and looked out the window.
 
I found myself staring a little too long at
the back of her neck.
 
A horn
honked.
 
I jerked my head straight again.
 
Clara seemed not to notice.

“Turn right onto Gardenia Drive,” she said.

I made the turn then pulled into the last
driveway on the left.
 

“You want to come in and see my dad’s
project?
 
He’s bragged about you so much
from class that I know he’d love to show it off to you.”

I felt tired.
 
After a long practice and using the rest of my energy to block her hazy
air, I thought it would be best to just leave.
 
I looked at Clara.
 
Her amber eyes
shimmered up at me—steady and unwavering.
 
I found myself nodding before I’d completely decided.
 
She smiled widely.

“His lab is in the back.”

I followed her across the wooden porch and into
the house.
 
There was a television on
somewhere, but there seemed to be no one around.

“You have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

“Nope, just me,” she said.

I passed a wall of photographs—a toddling Clara
in a red dress by a Christmas tree; six-year-old Clara on a bicycle next to
Dad; ten-year-old Clara with both her parents at the beach; and, a photo of her
with her last soccer team in New Orleans.
 
There was also a wedding photo of Clara’s father and beautiful
mother—simply dressed under an outdoor canopy.
 
Clara looked like her mother.
 

“Is your mom home?”

“No.
 
She’s gone shopping in Lafayette, her favorite pastime.”

I caught a sudden
ripple against my sensory wall to block her emotions.
 
There was a definite change in that serene
air of hers when she mentioned her mom.

“This way, through here,” she called, leading
me through the kitchen and past a breakfast nook to a door leading to what
looked like a greenhouse.
 
I was
accustomed to the many plants, herbs, and vegetables my mother nurtured in her
own greenhouse and garden.
 
I was
expecting that same strong herbal aroma when I stepped through the door, but
was nearly knocked backward by what hit me.
 
A cool, earthy smell poured from the greenhouse.
 

“Hey, Dad!
 
Did you forget something?”

“What’s that,
hon
?”
he called from the back where he leaned over a microscope not looking up.

“Uh, me!”

Mr. Dunaway looked up with a puzzled
expression, his glasses still firmly in place.

“Soccer practice, Dad.
 
Ring a bell?”

“Oh, no, Clara.
 
I’m so sorry.
 
Was it my day to
pick up?
 
Oh, hello there, Gabriel.”

“Hi, Mr. Dunaway.”

“He gave me a ride, Dad.”

“Oh, thanks ever so much,” he said absentmindedly
then moved back to his project.
 
“Well,
come look at this, Gabriel.
 
You’re a man
of science.”

“What is all this?” I asked, gesturing to the
many pools of algae in all shades of green.

“Ah, this is my wetland project.
 
Well, these are my test samples.
 
My real work is out in the swamp.”

“Algae?” I asked.

“Oh, yes.
 
Did you know there are 30,000 species of algae?”

“Uh, no sir, I didn’t know that,” I said,
smirking at Clara who arched one eyebrow at me.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Dunaway enthusiastically.
 
“It’s an amazing organism.
 
It can be used as a fertilizer, to reduce
toxic waste, and look at this species here I am studying now.
 
This kind of green algae here can
spontaneously switch from producing oxygen to producing hydrogen.
 
Do you know why?”

“No, sir.”

“When there is a lack of sulfur in its
environment, it just switches gears to producing hydrogen!”

Mr. Dunaway clapped his hands together as if he
had just made the discovery himself.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied politely, only half
interested.
 

Although I’d always liked science, I had more
of a flair for physical science as opposed to biology.
 
Immediately caught off guard, I felt a wave
of numbness filter through me. I knew she was near me.

“Told you,” said Clara right by my shoulder.
 
“Okay, Dad.
 
Well, I’m going to let Gabriel make his escape now.”

“Oh, alright then.
 
I suppose you have better things to do.
 
But, Gabriel, I’m expecting you to sign up
for the Science Fair.
 
Have you decided
what you’re going to do?”

“Not yet, Mr. Dunaway.
 
I’m still thinking.”

“Okay, but you better make a decision
quickly.
 
Deadline is next Friday.”
         
“Yes, sir.”

“Enough Dad.”

Clara led the way back through the house,
stopping at the refrigerator.
 
She pulled
out two bottled waters from inside.

“One for the road?” she asked.

“Sure.
 
Thanks.”

As she handed me the bottle, my fingers
overlapped hers.
 
My other sense reeled
as a full wave of her vibe shivered through me.
 
I tried not to look surprised when I stepped back suddenly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping quickly
toward me.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying not to frown.
 
“Thanks.”

I left the house hastily, knowing she was close
behind me.
 
I stopped and turned abruptly
at the Jeep.

“So, are we on speaking terms now?” she
asked.
 
“Even though you won’t tell me
exactly why we never were in the first place?”

“Yeah,” I said, breaking into a smile.

“Wow, that’s nice.
 
I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen one of those
on you before.”

I found myself laughing, despite concentrating
very hard on blocking her wave of fuzzy feelings.

“He laughs, too,” she said with mock amazement,
widening those tawny eyes.

“You’re kind of different, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, with the nutty professor as your
dad, it’s kind of hard not to be,” she said with a wide smile that lit up her
whole face.

She gave me that bizarre look like she had done
before.
 
It was like she was examining me
for some reason.
 
I jumped in the Jeep
and backed out of the driveway.
 

“Thanks again for the ride,” Clara called,
bounding back up her porch steps with her auburn ponytail swinging behind
her.
 
I sped back down the street,
smiling.

3

GABE

I stepped steadily through an endless field of
sugar cane in a haze of night fog.
 
I’d
been here before in this eternal nightmare.
 
Knowing I wouldn’t wake up until I saw them, I walked on.
 
I gripped the cold, black stone in my palm,
disturbed by its familiar presence.
 
The
stone was always there in this nightmare, freezing my palm till it burned.
 
I never knew what it was or why I held it,
but there was deep power in it.
 
Something compelled me to move on.
 
The thin blades of cane sliced my exposed skin.
 
The row of green stalks lashed at my arms and
bare chest as I pushed my way farther into the field ahead.
 
Abruptly, the cane field ended.
 
I found myself standing alone at the edge of
a brackish swamp.
 
Pain seared through
every vein in my body, pulsating from the burning stone in my hand.
 
I stood still, staring into the darkness.
 
A storm was brewing.
 
Lightning flashed, revealing cypress trees
bending in the wind and waves of rippling black water.
 
I held the stone tightly in my fist.
 
A sudden gust of wind swept across the
water.
 
I stood firm although the gale
threatened to topple me.
 
A whispering,
rustling sound began to build.
 
A streak
of purple lightening split the sky.
 
To
my horror, hundreds of ghastly shapes flew toward me.
 
The whispering was not the wind, but the
movement of these creatures drawing closer.
 
I was frozen to the spot, doomed to watch them advance.
 
Another flash of lightening.
 
One of the creatures hovered right in front
of me.
 
At first, I thought it wore a
sleek, gray cloak, then realized instantly that it was not cloth, but wings
that fluttered with every breath of wind.
 
A sheet of ashen skin hung in tatters over its skeletal body.
 
Its cloak-like wings were dry, cracked and frayed
at the edges.
 
What horrified me most
about the monster was the lack of any facial features at all, except for a
black, gaping hole for a mouth.
 
It
hissed once then inhaled deeply.
 
I felt
excruciating pain, like needles pricking along every surface of my skin.
 
I looked down at my chest, which began to
break like glass.
 
My skin literally
shattered into tiny shards and pulled away from my body. The creature inhaled
again, sucking the pieces toward its mouth.
 
Instinctually, I pressed the black stone to its head.
 
Piercingly, the creature screamed as smoke
rose from seared ghastly flesh, then—