Chapter Ten

Elijah Beaumont opened his eyes. His instincts told him that it was almost sunrise though no light came through his windows. It was Monday morning; with her car still being worked on he remembered that he was to give Presley a ride to school. Seeing her " he hoped " would help him get rid of the lingering dread, the bitter aftertaste of the nightmare. He could run from the Black Eyes in the day, busying himself enough to drown out their memory, but at night his subconscious had no defense.

            He laid in bed, too awake to fall back into sleep. Was it truly a nightmare? It didn’t scare him, but it wasn’t a pleasant dream. Pleasant dreams were made of Presley, and freedom, and quiet drives through the countryside. They did not include Black Eyes.

            Though he slept unclothed he wasn’t accustomed to walking around his room that way; getting out of bed, he picked a pair of white boxer-briefs from his chest-of-drawers and put them on. He dropped to the floor and began his morning work-out, doing fifty push-ups, fifty crunches, fifty squats, and fifty curls with the dumbbells. He certainly wasn’t a muscle-head (he wasn’t beefy, but lean; cut and toned) but thought it would be ludicrous to not take advantage of his White Artistry; for him, what amounted to a ten minute workout was about the same as an hour and a half workout for others. Drove Dominic absolutely crazy. And with his sky-high metabolism, being able to eat everything in sight: that drove his mom absolutely crazy.

            From across the room, catching his attention in the dark, was his cell phone, the small light on it growing bright and then dim again, over and over. Getting up and going over to his phone he saw that he had received it at three-thirty that morning. It was from Presley.

 

            Just lying here, can’t sleep, and I miss you… can’t wait to see you in the morning ; ) Don’t forget to come get me!

 

            He would reply later; for now, she was likely asleep, dreaming of things far better than he had. He liked that image, too: Presley at peace, in bed, her soft blonde hair on her face. Only once had he seen that image in person; they had fallen asleep together while sitting in his backseat at the park, the autumn leaves covering the back glass as they slept. When he woke up orange and yellow light, filtered through the leaves, shone on them. Presley slept in his arms, cozy in his jacket. He knew that, for some rational reason, he should probably have woken her then so they could go. But he didn’t; he snuggled back closer to her, breathed in a light scent of freesia, probably from her shampoo, and watched her. His color contacts were uncomfortable from sleeping in them (he didn’t always want to wear sunglasses to cover up his eyes; it just wasn’t realistic) and his back hurt from lying against the side of the interior, but he was having the time of his life. That was the same day they’d found that baby raccoon dying by the stream; Elijah hated the whole “bountiful Artist, curing the sick and ailing” image, but he still took the time, once Presley wasn’t looking, the mend the poor thing.

            Suddenly, surprising him a little, his phone vibrated. Another text, this one from Vee. What could she want so early in the morning?

 

            To all Chess Clubbers: remember that today Nicolle Darling will be spending the day with us and to be welcoming! She’s improved her Black Artistry enough to return to school, but still look out for her. Your High Secretary: Vee van Valen.

 

            Black. He couldn’t escape it. Elijah got dressed and ready to see his girlfriend, hoping Nicolle Darling kept her Black Eyes to herself.

 

            It was Monday. Monday.

            It seemed Vee already knew that Nicolle would be getting cold feet, sending a wonderful text that read:

 

            You can do this! Black Eyed Love Machine! You’re pretty much perfect! Presley eats seaweed!

 

            Somehow even that nugget of a text message did not bring Nicolle to the level of self-assurance she was wishing for, but oh well. Nicolle was dressed and ready to go, apart from mentally; she’d even fixed her hair the way that Vee had taught her, pulling off that classy, sexy, effortless curls-look that they had giggled over at her house. But none of it seemed like enough.

            She knew what she was expecting because she had seen it before, people with low social profiles coming to school with a new dress, or a new style of make-up, or their braces removed; that person inevitably hoped that everyone would point and stare in joy-faced awe at the transformation, that a multitude of students would swarm the person, wanting to lay hands on them, all of them thinking of how wrong they were about this person before, this one was cool. But nope… never, in fact: from where Nicolle had always stood the person that got the new dress, or make-up, or lost their braces was always ridiculed even worse than before, punishment for even attempting to better themselves. The cool kids weren’t rooting for you to grow in popularity; the cool kids were hoping you’d remain down to make them seem higher up.

            Nicolle was all too aware that she could be a victim of such a thing today (especially with her bruised eye, but her sunglasses covered that pretty well). But what were her choices? Eventually she would have to return to school " to face the popular ones, to face Timmy, to face everybody " and postponing it wouldn’t help.

            Walking to her car, she thought of Elijah: what would he think of the makeover Vee had put her through? Would he think she was pretty? Would he look at her as he walked by? Would he be impressed as his brother expounded on her growth with the Black Artistry? If she said hello to him today " and I swear that I will, at some point, I’ll force myself to " would he smile and say hello back?

            Nicolle couldn’t wait to find out.

 

            Watching from his car, parked far away from his usual spot, Timmy screamed.

            It was a murderous, wounded howl that sent goosebumps across his skin, made his hair stand on end, and then, shaming him so badly he hated himself, he began to cry. He should have known; he did know, he just didn’t allow himself to fully comprehend it. But there she was, voluntarily vaporizing his hopes, his dreams.

            He had spent the weekend in a stupor his mother called worrisome; Nicolle’s words hurt him to the highest degree, and he had bawled even; had she cared nothing for their comradeship over the years? It was as if she didn’t even care if he remained her friend. “I’m just responding to an email, Timmy”… that’s what she’d said, but he knew there was more to it; he’d seen the way she’d watched their table, wanting to be part of their idiotic little group. Not a single one of them would ever care for her the way he did. He’d proven as much to her time after time. And how did she repay him?

            He watched her as she emerged from her car. She looked beautiful; he wanted to be next to her so badly, just like the old days. But those sunglasses: they were hideous on her face, proof of her corruption, verification of her unfaithfulness. So that was that, then. They’d accepted her. His best friend in the entire world was a member of the Chess Club.

            He bit the inside of his cheek until he bled.

           

            Nicolle knew he was watching her; with the parking lot as empty as it was (she’d arrived earlier than usual on request from Vee) it wasn’t difficult to spot Timmy’s Chevette or Timmy himself inside it, gawking shamelessly. That he didn’t rush from the car to join her was telling; he’d hoped that she would exit her car as Old Nicolle, head down, drab clothes, no sunglasses on her face; perhaps he’d even expected her to walk over to him and ask him how much he’d leveled up his Ninja/Illuminator thing over the weekend, to expound more on her Black Eyes, the secret that only they shared. Even more: he’d hoped she would come to him confessing his accuracy in judging the Chess Club as stupid, complete with stories of their individual idiocies and elitisms, all of which made her sick. But…

            She stepped out of her car looking sharper than she ever had, sunglasses equipped, Chess Club acknowledged, and did not stop by the Chevette as she passed. It wasn’t because of anger that he remained in his car; it was because he had allowed himself to hope and that hope failed him. He was probably crying. It occurred to Nicolle then that perhaps confronting him would be more difficult than she’d anticipated; she was glad to reach the doors of the school and break his gaze on her.

            As expected the halls were nearly empty; though there was no one to really see her Nicolle still walked as if every student in the school were watching, careful to not shuffle her feet but to be confident in her stride, confident but not cocky, keeping her chin up. These new measures were negated by her trembling hands.

            She raced up the two flights of stairs without seeing a soul; when she came to the door of Room 44 she raised her hand to knock, thought better of it, turned the handle, and walked inside with the slow carefulness of one deactivating a bomb.

            “Check it out, crew! Nicolle’s first day!”

            Vee skipped towards Nicolle, her chestnut-red hair going everywhere, Blue Eyes shining with excitement. Behind her: Elyse was applying make-up, looking into a handheld mirror; Marie was sitting at the table by the window, writing on something; Darius and Jackson were play-fighting (Nicolle’s heart skipped a beat, seeing Darius escape a hold by teleportation); Brooklyn was talking on her phone; Peter was sitting on the couch playing a portable game of some sort; Dominic and Elijah hadn’t arrived yet, apparently.

            “Lookin’ posh, too,” Vee said, coming to a stop in front of Nicolle. “That blazer was a good idea. And, if I may say so myself,” she began speaking from behind her hand, “Elijah"”

            “Don’t!” Nicolle said, putting a shoosh finger to her mouth in panic. “If anyone hears…”

            Vee dismissed this with a wave. “No one did, relax… are you nervous?”

            Nicolle didn’t even answer; Vee presumably read Nicolle’s mind, making her eyes widen dramatically. “Yow.”

            “Yow’s right,” Nicolle said, “I might have a heart attack today.”

            “Good idea!” Vee said. “Cause then we’ll just get Elijah"”

            “Yo, shawty!” Darius said to Nicolle, walking up beside Vee. “First day, girl, woop woop!”

            Nicolle nodded. No one had ever said woop woop to her in a sentence so she wasn’t entirely sure how to reply.

            “Lemme just give you a word of advice,” Jackson said, coming up on Vee’s other side, “if anybody tries to give you a hard time or whatever, just do that thing"”

            “The Black Eyes thing!” Darius yelled out theatrically, pointing at Nicolle.

            “"just, just take’em up and say, say: Black Eye powers… activate!” Jackson reached past Vee and grabbed a generous measure of Darius’s right chest muscle. “AHHH!”

            “Arghhhhhh! Oh God! Oh God!” Darius squealed, laughing and pretending to die, both he and Jackson convulsing madly, sandwiching Vee in between.

            “Okay, OFF! That’s enough, it was super funny, get get get!”

            With a soft sound of wind Darius vanished; Jackson pretended to cry and shrunk away across the room. When Vee looked back to Nicolle her mouth was a thin, worried line.

            “You’ll do fine,” Vee said. “What happened with your ma was just a weirdo thing, you won’t kill anyone today… you’ve gotten better, remember the leaves in the gazebo?”

            Nicolle opened her mouth to respond"

            “Hey, Nicolle!” Elyse said, a lovely smile on her face as she walked up. “Are you nervous?”

            “You already know,” Vee said with a grin.

            “It’s polite to ask,” Elyse said.

            “Well, we’ve established that on a one-ten scale, Nicolle is a yow,” Vee said. Elyse nodded, playing along.

            “I’m scared to death,” Nicolle said. Elyse took Nicolle’s hand into her own for a moment.

            “Listen, honey… I’ve been doing this for over two years now, there’s nothing to it. Just carry yourself with pride and dignity, head held high. You’ve got nothing to fear.”

            Whether Elyse was adjusting Nicolle’s mood through Artistry or words Nicolle couldn’t tell; she smiled. “Thanks.”

            Another sound like soft wind: from nowhere Dominic appeared, his leather coat flying about for a moment before settling.

            “Good morning, Mr. President,” Vee said, crossing her arms.

            Dominic removed his sunglasses; his Green Eyes were a lighter shade than the eyes of Darius, Nicolle noticed. He nodded to Vee. “How goes it, milady?” Nodding to Elyse. “Elyse.” Nodding to Nicolle, with a small smile. “And a happy first day to you. A little birdy tells me you’ve gotten pretty good at that Black Artistry.”

            Nicolle shrugged and tried to return his smile. “Sorta.”

            “Where’s Eli?” Vee asked.

            “He’ll be here in a minute, he had to give Presley a ride today, her transmission’s getting worked on.”

            “On her sporty little Corvette,” Vee said, making a face, then made a sound like bleh.

            “Come off it,” Dom said. “Presley’s cool and you know it.”

            Vee mumbled something that Nicolle thought was she eats seaweed.

            “Alright brothers and sisters, come together!” Dominic yelled; everyone converged to the middle of the room. “It’s almost show time… but before we go out, just a reminder, this is Nicolle’s first day. Keep an eye out for her, help her out if you can. Try to remember your first day and how you’d have liked help.”

            Jackson playfully shoved Peter and laughed; Peter kept his head down, looking uncomfortable. About that time the bell rang.

            “Taking the world by storm,” Dominic yelled out as everyone dispersed, “and we’re starting here! Don’t forget it! And watch out for Nicolle!”

            Everyone’s sunglasses were now on; they shuffled around the room, grabbing their things, some of them walking out the door.

            “Oh man!” Vee said, grabbing Nicolle by the shoulders. “Your first day! This is gonna be great!”

            “I"” Nicolle started, and then she lost her breath. Elijah entered the room, his expression rugged as usual, his dark hair tousled, a tight black T-shirt putting his muscles on grand display. He made a straight line for Dominic, not looking at anyone else. Vee was nudging Nicolle in the ribs but Nicolle was too nervous to address it. His voice was low, tough to hear; Dominic was nodding.

            “Would you like me to take you over?” Vee asked. “To say hi?”

            “No,” Nicolle said, terror seizing her at the thought. “I can’t.”

            “He won’t attack you, Darling,” Vee said. “I know he looks a little, you know… hostile… but trust me, he’s a good guy. C’mon, let’s go over…”

            Vee began to walk with Nicolle’s hand in hers; Nicolle resisted, locking her knees, unmoving.

            “I’m not ready…”

            “If we wait until you are you‘ll never talk to him,” she said, “now’s the time…”

            But Elijah and Dominic were done talking; Dominic walked back to the couch to get something, Elijah turned and made for the door, walking in the direction of Nicolle and Vee.

            Vee didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to, Nicolle knew what was expected. Once Elijah was near " so close she could pick up that scent, that clean scent " Nicolle inhaled sharply and spoke.

            “Hey Elijah.”

            He didn’t turn to look at her, didn’t respond to her words at all; it was as if she didn’t exist. He walked out the door and was gone.

            Silence.

            “He just didn’t hear you… you were about as loud as a ladybug.” Vee chortled. “You just need to be a little louder next time, that’s all.”

            Nicolle’s teeth were chattering. Had that really been it? Did he just not hear her? “I’ve used up all of my courage already… I don’t know if there will be a next time…”

            Vee placed a hand on Nicolle’s back and guided her to the door. “There will be.”

             As they walked out the door Nicolle was shocked to see that all of the members that had already exited were grouped together at the top of the stairs, including Elijah. Nicolle looked to Vee, confused.

            “What…?”

            “The Chess Club walks the halls as a group, remember? Inspires respect from others, which is good for us. We rarely go it alone,” Vee said. It was true, as far as Nicolle could remember; she almost always saw them together. And now " her heart nearly exploded, holy moly " she was walking with them. Her first walk.

            “Oh,” Nicolle whimpered. Vee chuckled softly.

            “Just breathe… you’re not alone. Dawn of a new era time, Darling.”

            Dominic walked up from behind and passed them. Everyone’s shades were in place; all members were dressed to impress. He made it to the front of the group and his voice rang out.

            “Ready, guys?... let’s do this thing. Lights, camera, action.”

           

            He’d managed to dry his tears but his eyes were swollen still; whenever he tried breathing through his nose no air came through, a choked ngggg sounding instead. Thank goodness his mother couldn’t see him now; if she did Timmy would almost surely have an appointment with the therapist lined up. That’d happened once or twice before.

            The halls were nearly full now; the sounds of slamming lockers, laughter, and hundreds of feet stomping across the floor made Timmy nervous. His business with his locker was through but he remained staring into it anyway, hiding his face; he hated attention, this morning more than usual. Standing at six-foot-two, attention was hard to avoid.

            “Pssst…”

            Timmy was afraid the pssst was for him; turning slightly, he saw that he was right. Three guys, mostly looking at him but occasionally making quick grins at each other, as if about to bust out laughing, were behind him. Timmy turned away from them.

            “Hey man,” one of them started, “just wanted to say… love the backpack.”

            Timmy could hear them laughing quietly behind him. Something bitter and cold dropped into his stomach; he knew what they were referencing, the words NIGHTRIDER stitched into his backpack, with little ninja shurikens around it. They thought it was funny.

            “Oh yeah, the backpack?” A female voice now; the guy’s laughter had apparently been noticed by another. Timmy didn’t dare turn around but he could place the voice suddenly; it was Alyssa Craven. “He’s a bad a*s, didn’t ya’ll know? Stroker rides the night.”

            All three of the guys " no longer forcing their amusement to a whisper " erupted into laughter. Timmy’s face was scalding, embarrassment and anger causing his lips to tingle and quiver.

            “Stroker’s mama rides stuff too, or so I hear… little Stroker’s just down the hall, listening to his mommy scream her head off…”

            It was like a beach ball on the edge of a cliff, the wind just about to push it over, his anger nearly forcing him to turn around and let them have it; but the wind did not blow, and he remained looking into his locker, too afraid of the retribution. Hatred burned him up… hatred for everyone else, for Alyssa, for Anthony and Clay, for whoever those three guys behind him was, for himself due to the tears about to start rolling again…

            “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Alyssa said, still behind him, but further away; she was no longer talking about Timmy. He peaked around his shoulder to see: she and a few of her friends were looking down the hallway. Something had drawn their attention away from him.

            “What is she doing hanging out with them?” One of Alyssa’s friends asked. “When did that happen?”

            “She’s wearing sunglasses, too,” Alyssa said softly to herself, apparently shocked.

            Timmy’s head spun around, looking down the hallway. When he saw them his tears at last came. Angry tears… though no one was watching him anymore.

            The Chess Club did not converse with others as they walked; only amongst themselves. Where typically students bumped into one another freely and traipsed through other’s personal territory without worry, no one broke through the middle of the Chess Club, instead opting to walk around them, or merely shrink back against the wall and watch as they went by. That sort of thing happened in movies and books, it wasn’t realistic; no group was popular " or powerful " enough in high school to inspire such behavior. But there it was. They were untouchable.

            And there she was: Nicolle Sabrana Darling, his most absolute friend " his only friend " wearing the shades of the Chess Club, walking with them, talking with them, striding with them.

            “She can’t be serious,” Alyssa said, resistance clear in her every word, and yet… as soon as the Chess Club approached her end of the hall she, like everyone else, moved to the side. The redhead walking beside Nicolle turned back around once they’d passed Alyssa and gave her an almost absurdly toothy grin.

            “I didn’t know…” one of Alyssa’s friends started, her words fading as she turned events over in her head. “I didn’t know she hung out with them.”

            “I was under the impression she hung out with ol’ Stroker over there,” one of them said, uncaring if Timmy heard.

            Yeah, he thought; the last of the Chess Club " a skinny dark haired boy Timmy thought was maybe called Philip, or Peter " rounded the corner and was gone, leaving a scattered student body in their wake. I thought so too.

 

            Nicolle had attended more high school classes than she cared to remember " being a senior, the number was probably a few thousand " and knew the routine well; she had darn near perfected it: go inside, find a seat in the back by itself, don’t make eye contact with a single person (teacher or student), wait out the hour, and walk quickly to the door. This tried and true method had allowed her survival for all of junior and high school; those steps were executed each and every school day.

            Nicolle followed Vee’s lead, which meant leaving the old ways behind; the seats they picked out were in the back, yes, but instead of being alone she was sitting nearby Vee, Maria, Elyse, and Brooke (who didn’t really socialize; she had her phone, after all), whom she was making eye contact with throughout. And instead of simply waiting out the hour, they relaxed; Elyse had made their first period Home Economics, a class where the teacher, Mrs. Freeman, was famously laidback.

            “What’s Elyse doing?” Nicolle asked. The Artist of the Yellow was talking to Mrs. Freeman; Nicolle was alarmed to see that, though her back was to the class, her sunglasses were in her right hand, not on her face.

            Vee laughed. “It’s her Mood Manage Artistry. She’s trying to induce Miss Freeman into an extremely bored state so she won’t make us do anything but she needs eye contact to do it. She’s asking her how she likes her new contacts.”

            “Having fun yet, Nicolle?” Maria asked with a grin.

            “That’s one way to put it,” Nicolle said. Such a glorious mixture of good things was whirling around inside her; it was hard to describe simply. Everything seemed to be going perfect: she had friends, all of whom had secret and powerful abilities to use in cool ways; she looked way better than she ever had, actually feeling sexy; her homework, she assumed, would be taken care of for the rest of the year; no more getting picked on, ether. She no longer had first period with Timmy; it was actually possible that she had escaped having to hang out with him altogether. Vee was going to help her out with Elijah, and on the outside, her mother would live through yesterday’s events and perhaps be less aggressive in the future.

            Nicolle’s smile was liberated and sincere. The new era rocked.

            “Lookey there,” Vee said, nodding toward the desk. Mrs. Freeman’s eyes had taken on a glazed over look. “I’d say her mood’s been properly managed.”

            Indeed: Elyse didn’t even appear to finish the conversation; she merely walked away, leaving a nearly asleep teacher behind her.

            “She was already pretty tired, which helped,” Elyse said, a cool smile in place. “The hour’s free.”

            “Neato,” Vee said. “Anyone wanna play chess?”

            “I don’t know how,” Nicolle said quietly.

            “Why play you?” Maria laughed. “You’ll win!”

            “I know,” Vee said. She laced her fingers behind her head, content, and laid her head back. “Oh, how they all wish they were Blue Eyed girls…”

            “Give me a break,” Elyse laughed. Nicolle laughed too, the sound weird to her own ears.

 

            “Okay guys,” Mr. Yelchin said, pointing to the front board. “See the diagram I spent all morning drawing up? I’ve left some places incomplete, now, and on purpose, because you guys will be filling in the blanks. Most of you didn’t do too hot on that last test, after all, this is kind of a refresher before we move on… the next chapter is gonna be dealing with…”

            Nicolle looked around her; being told that they were about to have to answer questions in front of the class had woken most of everyone up. Not everyone, though: the students closest to her (those wearing the sunglasses) were busying themselves in a myriad of ways, none of which involved Social Studies. She had this class with Vee, Maria, Jackson, Dominic, and Elijah. Elijah sat two seats behind Nicolle, Dominic between them, with Vee sitting to Nicolle’s right.

            “Have any plans after school?” Vee whispered.

            Nicolle shook her head. “Not at the moment, no.”

            Vee cleared her throat, smiled, looked in Elijah’s direction for a split-second, and said, “Well, if you catch my drift, I was thinking maybe the group could get together, you know… get to know one another better… if you catch my drift.”

            Vee reached up and began flicking the back end of her sunglasses leg, making her white aviators jump up and down; the gesture was goofy and Nicolle didn’t get it but she smiled anyway.

            “Miss van Valen?”

            “Yessir?” Vee snapped to attention, looking to Mr. Yelchin at the front.

            “Your attention is deficient as always, I see,” he said, his voice exhausted. “Any idea what I just said?”

            “You doubt me, Mr. Yelchin?” Vee sounded so genuinely hurt that Maria snorted a laugh. “If you insist, though… you said that in chapter four we’ll be dealing in more detail with what powers the President actually has as head of the Executive Branch. However, you pointed out, in order for us to understand that we first need a good understanding of the Legislative Branch, seeing as they create the bills that will be passed along to ze President so’z he can veto or not veto. Eet is how ze government verks andz vee need get eet downz pat.”

            Several students laughed at her nearly word for word recitation; a few clapped, for which Vee mimicked taking a bow while sitting. She was in her element, but was she ever out of it? She was so proud of herself she even slipped into that nutty French accent she does. No one suspected that telepathy was the key to her success.

            Mr. Yelchin cleared his throat. “Hilarious, Vivian, but that’s correct. So. Looking back to my diagram, literally took me thirty minutes to draw this thing, we see that the portion detailing the Legislative Branch is empty. So we need to fill that baby up. Anyone up for it?”

            “Yo Nicolle,” Jackson said from her left. “Has Vee told you yet? I can lift a car full of people in it.”

            Nicolle nodded. “No… no, she hasn’t, but that’s, um"”

            “Jackson,” Dominic whispered. “No more. Don’t say things like that in the open.”

            Jackson rolled his eyes theatrically. “Yes, master, no more, master…”

            “Nicolle Darling?”

            Nicolle’s eyes widened. Her head whipped to look at the front of the class.

            “Yes… yes sir?”

            “You’re looking absolutely uninterested in what I have to say,” Mr. Yelchin mused, “Care to fill in the blanks for us?”

            Oh no! There was no way she could pull off a cool answer like Vee had done; she was about to make an idiot of herself, thus making an idiot of the Chess Club. She should have been paying more attention…

            … then Nicolle noticed something was off. Very off. No one was moving, not even a hundredth of an inch, not to breathe, not to get comfortable; everyone was perfectly still and quiet. Everyone other than herself and the one holding her arm; Dominic’s mouth was closed and his chin was down… he was holding his breath.

            He stood up and began for the front of the classroom, pulling Nicolle along carefully behind him. Once at the front desk he gestured, with the kind impatience of wishing to begin breathing again soon, to the book on Mr. Yelchin’s desk. On it was the completed diagram, matching the one on the board. Dominic was giving Nicolle the answers.

            Once back to their seats she heard Dominic discreetly inhale behind her and sound returned, movement returned to her classmates. Mr. Yelchin was still looking at Nicolle expectedly, eyebrows raised.

            “Um…” Nicolle said. “The Legislative Branch is made up of Congress, which consists of the Senate and the House of Representatives. On top of making bills, they, um… they also control inter-state trade and can declare war.”

            Nicolle received no applause like Vee, but everyone seemed silently impressed anyway. Mr. Yelchin was looking flabbergasted; twice he’d been thwarted.

            “Er… right,” he said. “So, um… so, um… moving on to this box here, we see…”

            A hand appeared at Nicolle’s left; she gave it a high five subtly " thanks for the help " and turned back around. She could have busted out laughing; she felt ready to take over the world.

                       

            “... telomerase is the secret, I believe,” Marie said as she, Nicolle, Vee, and Dominic walked out of third period. No, not third period: out of the craziest class Nicolle had ever taken part of. Shortly after Nicolle correctly answered her question Mr. Yelchin turned his attention to Marie, asking her to fill in the blank concerning what the Judicial Branch was used for. For reasons Nicolle didn’t know " she assumed it stemmed from Marie’s past as just another face in the crowd " Marie answered that the Judicial Branch held the Supreme Court, but also: that Article III of the Constitution establishes the powers of the Court, to interpret laws, determine how laws should be applied, and the constitutionality of laws; moreover, she continued, there are trial courts where cases can be tried and decided, something about the power of federal courts and civil actions, something about checks and balances, and something about the Telephone Consumer Protection Act of 1991. Mr. Yelchin’s response was “holy shamola”.

            “Telomer-what?” Vee asked. “English is the official language of the Chess Club, Marie.”

            “You know, telomerase,” she said. “It’s an enzyme " naturally produced, that goes without saying " that plays an irrefutably important role in the division of cells. With its influence cells can divide while also replacing any lost deoxyribonucleic acid from the process, allowing unhindered growth and theoretically promoting immortality. It seems to me that telomerase may be what separates Artists of the White from the rest of us.”

            “I always suspected Elijah had a stash of telomerase hidden away somewhere,” Vee said, flashing a grin to Nicolle.

            “First day going about like you expected?” Dominic asked Nicolle. She nodded and smiled. An eighth grader, turning around and noticing Nicolle and the Chess Club walking towards him, scurried away for dear life. “Hang out with us and we’ll make this the best year of your life. Bet your bottom dollar on it.”

            “I don’t doubt it,” Nicolle said. That fire in her heart burned brighter and brighter with every passing second. Was it possible to get high on air?

            With third period ending it was now lunch time, something Nicolle had very much looked forward to; everyone would see the new face at the Chess Club table, and everyone would know that things were different. She would give anything to know what Alyssa would be thinking; she made a point to ask Vee.

            “Make sure to remind me and I’ll tell you,” Vee told Nicolle, nudging her in the ribs. But as they approached the door to exit the building and go towards the lunchroom Vee and Dominic turned to continue down the hallway.

            “Aren’t you coming?” Nicolle asked, panic seizing her.

            “We have to stop by the office for a second and talk to Elyse,” Dominic said. “Big important Chess Club officer’s business.”

            “We’ll see you down there eventually though,” Vee said with a smile, and they were off.

            So Marie and Nicolle walked to the lunchroom alone; though their presence still seemed powerful in the eyes of others it was noticeably weaker than when the Chess Club traveled as a group. Marie continued her explanation of telomerase; Nicolle didn’t understand a lick of it but it reminded her of Elijah Beaumont, who, of course, would be sitting at the Chess Club table as well. And I swear, I SWEAR, she told herself, I’m gonna make him notice me today.

            Taking calming breaths, they walked into the lunchroom.

           

            “Thank you dear,” the lunch lady said, accepting Nicolle’s money, and Nicolle turned and looked around. The chatter was explosive; the place was filled to the brim with students, nary an empty seat to be found; a burrito flew a few feet into the air at one table before falling back down with a splatter, its audience laughing their heads off. And there she was: Alyssa and her friends, and oh yes, their eyes were glued to the Artist of the Black, expressions of shock and annoyance all over their faces.

            In the distance, against the wall and unapproachable to most, was the table of the Chess Club. Dominic, Elyse, and Vee were still away, and Jackson and Darius reportedly were in the field house working out still. Therefore the table was taken only by Peter, Marie, Presley, and Elijah. It made her heart sink to see Elijah and Presley sitting so close together, but a new hope had come to her over the past few days; she would not be deterred, not now.

            So this was it.

            Hoping to heaven above she was doing it right, Nicolle put on her best I’m in the Chess Club walk and began her journey to the faraway Chess Club table. People turned to look at her, like a scene from a teen movie or something; Nicolle was nearly smiling from the uncontainable gloriousness of her reversal, from drag to fab as Vee would probably say, though she retained her super-serious demeanor anyway.

            “Nicolle.”

            Nicolle stopped; someone from behind had spoken her name… someone had paid her attention. With an attempt at a sophisticated twirl Nicolle turned to see her pursuer.

            Timmy had been crying today, there was no doubt. Her shaded eyes opened in shock at the barley controlled fury on his face; his fists were so tightly knotted that she wondered if he were in pain.

            “Timmy,” she breathed. “Hey.”

            For as long as five seconds neither of them spoke. Nicolle knew that others had to be watching; she tried to smile.

            “What’s up?”

            His bottom lip trembled. From sadness? No, he was angry. Angry because she was part of the Chess Club. A trace of guilt touched her but then was gone; she had done nothing wrong. Though he was annoying she’d been cool with being his friend until he began refusing her growth simply to assuage his own insecurities. It was regrettable to see him like this, but she refused to blame herself.

            “You tell me,” he said, his voice so quiet. “You think you look cool? You look like an idiot. You left me for that, for them? I thought you were smarter.”

            “Excuse me?” She was shocked, unprepared for a fight today. “You say I left you, as if we were dating.” She opted to not mention that she’d never asked him to be her friend; he just sat next to her one day. She never implied what he just assumed, that they were somehow romantically linked. “And I wouldn’t have even walked away that day, if you hadn’t have gotten angry at me simply because I had a chance to be happy.”

            He looked like a bull about to charge, huffing and puffing; his inability to speak looked both funny and horribly sad. Then a wad of mashed potatoes, thrown with the speed of a baseball, slammed into the side of Timmy’s face, sending his glasses askew. The laughter around them was immediate. His face was full of incomprehensible emotions, awash in rage and humiliation. Two guys a few tables over high fived: Anthony and Clay.

            “ArrrrGHHHHHHH!” Timmy yelled throwing the mashed potatoes to the floor. He turned and faced the bullies, heaving great breaths. “DON’T… DO THAT!!”

            “Stroker’s gonna blow!” Anthony said, which Clay found absolutely hilarious, falling over the table in a fit. “Everybody, point and laugh! Ha ha HA!”

            Nicolle was discouraged to see that several students " likely those who had never before been bullied " did just that, pointing at Timmy’s humiliation and pain and laughing like a cartoon. They did not see what see was seeing, the sanity of a well-meaning but grossly mislead boy ripping in two. Or did they see and just not care?

            Nicolle " or was it the shades on her face? " opened her mouth and said, “All of you, stop laughing!”

            And they did. Adam-can-you-see-me-now, every last one of the jeering crowd shut up, their taunting faces turning confused. Nicolle knew what puzzled them: who was this girl, who spoke with authority? Was she not one of the peasants once? She looks like a member of the Chess Club, the top of the totem pole… will our social statuses suffer if we resist her?

            Nicolle had never experienced such a sensation of power; she was unfamiliar with what to do next. Every eye was on her; Timmy looked at her with much the same pained expression as before, but a whisper of hope was growing in his eyes, the off-chance that her defense of him meant more; Elijah and Presley almost surely were watching her from behind, and she resolved to see this thing through, if only to not look like a fool before him.

            “He’s never done anything to any of you,” Nicolle said. “What kind of people does something like this to"?”         

            “Oh, puh-lease,” a voice said from the side; Alyssa had turned in her seat and was facing Nicolle now. And just like that the air changed: everyone was preparing to witness a fight. Nicolle had seen it plenty times, never believing she would be in the middle of such a public arena…

            “What?” Nicolle said; her teeth chattered from the nerves.

            Alyssa’s smile was her weapon. “You come walkin’ up in here, tryin’ to act all cool, acting like you’re someone that you’re not.” A small fit of giggles overtook her. “Just sit back down next to Stroker and stop like you know anything, all you are is just a stupid, fugly, skanky"” scattered laugher arose, “"mislead loser in life, good for nothing but giving Stroker something to have wet dreams about.”

            Ooooooo, a few voices sounded, then more laughter. The audience was loving this, but not Nicolle. No, Nicolle was a mess on the inside, and on the outside her strong-backed stance was slumping. She had no good come backs.

            “Don’t you talk to Nicolle that way,” Timmy said softly, but my word the ferocity in his voice. Alyssa’s giggles exploded in the quieted lunchroom, disregarding Timmy’s stance and his manliness.

            “What, you gonna unleash your mystical powers and vanquish me?” This brought a huge reaction, those around her greatly amused; some nameless onlookers even clapped once or twice. Alyssa was in a bully’s dream come true: a boy who won’t retaliate because she’s female, a girl too afraid to fight back, and spectators to witness the event.

            “Shut. Your. Mouth.” Timmy’s voice quivered as he spoke; his bravado was just as false as Nicolle’s.

            Ooooooo… but no laughter this time. Alyssa’s mouth dropped open; how dare thee defy me, Queen Alyssa must have thought. She got up, took her time walking over to Timmy, and stood toe to toe with him. Her eyes were unwavering; his were not.

            “Say that again,” she said, her voice calm. “Just one more time.”

            Timmy stared at the floor to his left. He did not speak. Alyssa open hand slapped him with all of her might; Timmy’s eyes flew open in shock

            It’s happening… he’s about to break

            and he shoved Alyssa away from him with a humiliated howl.

            “Big man, pushing a girl half your size!” Anthony yelled from behind him. He and Clay climbed over their table in big, though guy strides; Clay punched first, and good, solid hit, and Timmy’s nose broke with the sound of a snapped twig.

            “Stop, get off of him!” Nicolle yelled, but having already been shown up by Alyssa her words no longer carried weight; they attacked him without even looking at her, Timmy flailing to ward them off without success. Nicolle put her hands on Anthony’s back and pushed with all of her might…

            Alyssa grabbed Nicolle by the collar and pulled her away; the time for punishment had come, punishment for talking back to her, punishment for pretending to be Salem.

            “Don’t you ever,” she started but did not finish, smacking Nicolle across the face; her sunglasses " those wonderful things picked out on their shopping day, evidence of her up-and-coming life " flew from her face and across the food littered floor.

            It was instinct: Nicolle shut her eyes.

            As Nicolle began to kneel to look for her sunglasses Alyssa placed the bottom of her shoe on her shoulder and pushed, sending Nicolle sprawling across the floor. Her world was darkness; her hands raked the ground for her shades, grabbing mashed potatoes, spilled milk, an unhelpful onlooker’s foot; Timmy’s grunts and the sounds of punches was the soundtrack for this pitiful episode.

            Nicolle’s hand fell over what felt like the rims of her glasses; something, likely a kick, hit Nicolle’s hand and sent the glasses out of reach.

            “I’m ready for an apology,” Alyssa said from above her; Nicolle felt fingers lock into her hair and pull. Nicolle’s fingertips tingled with their death inducing touch; she prepared to grab Alyssa and hold on for dear life.

            “Back away.”

            Alyssa was gone, fingers and all, and Nicolle heard the clomp, clomp, clomp of her retreating footfalls.

            “Anthony! Clay! Enough!”

            Still on the floor Nicolle allowed her eyes to open only a sliver; the world was obscured by her eyelashes but she could make out some things. Alyssa was standing off to the side doing nothing; Timmy was on one knee, steadying himself with his hands, breathing deep gulps; the two figures " Anthony and Clay " had stopped moving altogether and were looking to Nicolle’s right. She turned, keeping her head down from fear of exposing her Black Eyes; suede leather boots, the stylishly ruffled hems of the jeans dragging the floor: her rescuer.         

            “Stay out of this,” Clay growled.

            “You two can’t beat me,” he said, not a trace of arrogance, only truth. “Know your place.”

            “Nicolle!”

            This time there was several footfalls, a group running onto the scene; Vee bent down and placed a hand on Nicolle’s shoulder.          

            “Are you alright?”

            “Yeah,” Nicolle said.

            “Elijah, what the hell happened, what did you do?!” Dominic asked. Nicolle peeked through her eyelids once more; she was surrounded, Peter, Vee, Dominic, Elyse, Marie, and Elijah encircling her, shielding her from sight.

            “I didn’t do anything,” Elijah said, “those three attacked these two.”

            “You stepped in,” Vee said, surprised, saying the words as she saw them in his head.

            “What, you think you can just traipse all up in here and command us what to do?” Anthony said, chuckling.

            “We’re the Chess Club,” Dominic said. “We do as we please. Now shoo.”

            Nicolle saw Dominic in her head making go away gestures with his hands. And whether affected by Elyse’s Artistry or not, they did just that, chortling a little to try and retain their dignity but walking to the exit nonetheless.

            “Hey, you,” Dominic said, “you okay, anything smashed, broken, battered, anything like that?”

            “I don’t need your help,” Timmy snarled.

            “His nose is broken,” Elijah said. “He needs to go to the doctor.”

            “I said I don’t need you!” Timmy spat again, and he was off, making for a different exit than the one Anthony and Clay took and walking out the door.

            Chatter softly arose again.

            “Nicolle,” Vee said, getting on her haunches again to face her friend, whose eyes were still closed. “Are you sure you’re okay, nothing hurt?”

            “I’ll be fine,” Nicolle said, but her voice was shaking; something inside her wasn’t allowing the true reality of what had happened to sink in yet, but it would come.

            “Did she punch you?” Vee asked, indignant, and Nicolle remembered; her eye was bruised. Then: “No… that happened yesterday.”

            “Where are her glasses?” Dominic asked urgently. “She needs to cover up, and now.”

            “They got knocked away, I don’t know,” Nicolle said.

            “We need to get out of here,” Elyse said coolly. “Everyone is watching…”

            “Elijah,” Vee said, her volume down, “She can’t keep that bruise… why don’t you take her up to the Hideout and fix it…?”

            “You’re not serious?” Elijah said. “It’s just a bruise.”

            “Chess Club members can’t be seen running around with black eyes, Eli,” Dominic said. “Won’t take but a minute.”

            She heard Elijah inhale, exhale; his hands took hold of her arms and lifted her to her feet. From his frustrated demeanor she’d expected him to handle her roughly, perhaps as her mother used to when she was young, yanking and pulling her to and fro, but he picked her up gently.

            “Where are you going?” Nicolle’s eyes were still closed, but she knew the voice: Presley.

            “Just going up to the Hideout,” Elijah said. He inhaled again, exhaled; He wasn’t happy. “Won’t take but a minute.”

            “Here’s her glasses,” Marie said, and Nicolle felt her shades pressed into her hand; she fumbled them onto her face, thankful to have her sight back, but that thankfulness died away quickly; the entire lunchroom was watching her, some looking amused, others looking anxious.

            “Let’s go,” Elijah said, walking ahead of her to the exit. And despite the humiliation of what had just happened, the shock that such a thing had even occurred, Nicolle allowed herself the small feeling of excitement that she and Elijah were about to be alone. And also " whether good or bad, who could tell? " she realized that her goal for the day had been realized: Elijah had most certainly noticed her.

 

Reviews

[Lost in Wonderland]

:OOO AHMAZING! yay she and Elijah get some alone time :D

[Melody]

EEK! More development! I'm so excited! You're very talented.

Just keep in mind that "barely" is actually spelt "B-A-R-E-L-Y" not "B-A-R-L-E-Y", because barley is an herb. Lol.

I can't wait to read more!!

[ScottWinchester]

lol... yeah... that word has given me trouble since I was little.

And thank you :) My first fan that's a total stranger! lol Kinda exciting. You've read all of that, the first ten chapters?!

[Melody]

I understand. I still hesitate on multiple words.
I get what you're saying. The thrill that a stranger admires your talent, maybe even acknowledging your talent...yeah I get it. Lol. And yes, all ten chapters.

[ScottWinchester]

I think I love you lol.

[Melody]

Sorry? Please tell me that as a friend or as a joke...I start freaking out otherwise. Lol.

[ScottWinchester]

... I was kidding lol. I merely meant to imply that I was grateful you've read ten chapters of my novel. Never meant to perturb you lol.

[Melody]

Okay good. Lol. Now I have no need to freak.
And no problem. Its actually been awhile since I've actually read a book from here because I've sort of been reading nothing but manga (I don't know why), so I'm actually grateful that I found your book or else I would have been completely swallowed in the world of sappy mangas and animes.