Chapter Thirteen

It wasn't an epiphany explosion; it wasn't lightning across the sky, or a slap on the face; it wasn't a scream, but a whisper... as soon as Dominic awoke he realized it was there. Quiet, almost unnoticeable, but there. It had been so long since it had been there that he'd nearly forgotten he possessed that Artistry at all.

            The laptop was dying; Dom had fallen asleep in bed with it unplugged beside him. What was on the screen embarrassed him a little, a Google search for Roland Beaumont Artist of the Black see the dead darkman946. That had probably been about his tenth search, each time using a different set of words to describe his father or the Black Artistry. Idiotic, though, web searching for him... Dominic had long ago come to the conclusion that his dad was either pushing up daisies or didn't want to be found. Going to Google, apparently, was an impulse of his generation for all problems.

            The laptop clock read 4:45 am; only three hours prior had he vanished from the dark wooded playground to the comfort of his room. He held down the power button until the computer turned off, laid back down on his bed, and sighed heavily.

            Not a scream. A whisper. His Up-and-Coming Artistry was alerting him of something, something to arrive in the future. It was as if he could see a light in the distance " a car on a straightaway, miles away " so slowly coming closer. The last time his Up-and-Coming Artistry triggered it had been right before his mother had fallen down the stairs, two years ago. But that incoming light had been small... perhaps due to the fact that his mother had lived, only a single broken rib coming from it (which Eli had fixed pretty quickly).

            This new light was not small. Scratch that: this new light was not even big. It was colossal. On that same mind highway, his mother's fall had been like a motorcycle's single headlight; this, though... this was a fleet of semi-trucks, lights blaring and horns blasting. What could possibly be coming? Something huge, without a doubt. Something so huge.

            Typically the Up-and-Artistry only alerted Dominic of oncoming situations that would concern him, but a light that big... it was possible " probable " that those near him would also be involved. Elijah? Vee? His mother? They would all have to be told.

            They would all have to be warned.

 

            The sound of the alarm told her it was 7:00 am. Despite not having gotten in bed until around 2:00 am Nicolle still sprung out of bed, cheerful and ready for the day. Used to, even if she got ten hours of sleep in a night, Nicolle would ooze out of bed, and reluctantly. My word, how things have changed. Having friends

            with Artistries

            was entirely responsible.

            In her heart Nicolle had hoped she would awaken and Adam would be there, his “recharging” period, or whatever it was, done at last. He wasn't there, though, not yet, but she knew that he was coming and couldn't wait for it. She expected that seeing him would help her to cope with the return of her mother; the presence of hospital papers on the kitchen counter and her mother's jacket on the living room floor let Nicolle know that her time without her mother-extraordinaire was over. Not once had she gone to see her mother in the hospital, either; she'd told Stephen that she was horribly busy once or twice, and another time blamed it on a dead car battery. She feared seeing her mother again for the first time since that day; the last time she'd seen her, after all, her mother had punched her in the face and Nicolle had quite nearly killed her. What a joyous reunion that would be.

            Everyone was likely still in bed, though, meaning Nicolle could avoid them if she hurried. Using the methods Vee had taught her Nicolle got ready for school, fixing her hair and dressing in another of her new outfits. Bag in hand Nicolle crept from her bedroom and into the living room.

            Her mother was lying on the couch, eyes wide open, staring directly at Nicolle as she entered. For the first time in memory the television wasn't on; the room was silent.

            Nicolle didn't speak. Her mother didn't speak. Her eyes did, though, wide and... … … … …

            … frightened. Yes... her mother was afraid of her. And angry. Scared and angry.

            “Hey mom,” Nicolle said.

            Her mother didn't reply.

            Silence. A soft sound, perhaps a rat in the walls, crackled for a moment before stopping. Silence.

            “How are you feeling...?” Nicolle asked, taking a step forward.

            “I hate you,” her mother whispered.

            Nothing sounded for nearly ten seconds. Not a breath, not a shuffle.

            “Why?” Nicolle asked.

            Again her mother doesn't speak, but slowly shakes her head, eyes wide open and unblinking. It means I don't know. More than that: I don't know why I hate you. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know why I hate you. But I do.

            “Okay,” Nicolle said. For nearly thirty seconds she stood in the center of the living room, neither of them saying a word, before going to the front door and walking out.

 

            That night, when he dreamed, he dreamed of Nicolle.

            Timmy ignored the odd scraping sound his car was making " the thing was bound to die eventually anyway " and tried to remember the dream. He and Nicolle had been standing alone one the beach somewhere; the sun was nearly set. The wind was blowing in her hair in a way only one word could describe " majestic. Actually, many words could describe both her hair and her: amazing, wondrous, outstanding, incredible, magical, pretty, superior, etc. They were holding hands, and she was smiling at him in a way that made his knees wobble.

            Her eyes were the beautiful hazel they had always been. She wore no sunglasses.

            Upon awakening reality returned to him in a set of lightning fast images: Nicolle awkwardly looking at him, clearly not wanting to talk; Clay's fist coming down on his nose, the crunch of it breaking; watching from the floor as Elijah Stupid Freaking IDIOT Beaumont stepped in all hunk-like and rescued Nicolle. Timmy got ready for school with a throbbing anger in his face, his heartbeat like a drum beneath his skin. And " whenever he would remember that wonderfully sweet dream " he also felt longing. He had once sat next to her on the bleachers. Now he sat by himself.

            The school was close; he would see her again today, undoubtedly in the company of the bloody Chess Club. Was it not obvious at this point that they were not a Chess Club? His mother had listened carefully while he explained it to her, laid out the full evidence: they were rarely seen playing chess, if ever; they seemingly had tons of money (a crime club, maybe?); the members rarely spoke or dealt with those outside the Club; their meeting room was completely off limits to anyone else; and, perhaps most cryptically to Timmy, they refused to let anyone see their eyes. Did no one else notice this??

            Timmy pulled into his parking space " his car let out a hideous whine as he turned it off " and looked to his left. Inside Nicolle's car sat the girl herself; she did not carry the expression she always had, one of weary sadness; she didn't even carry the expressions that the rest of the students did, a neutral demeanor of not wanting to be at school but overall happiness. Nicolle Darling looked better than that. She looked alive. Vibrant. It angered Timmy to see; she had never looked that way in his company. Why not?

            She was texting on her phone, her free hand on the door handle. Timmy hoped that his phone would rumble in a moment, that it was him she was texting; Nicolle closed her phone and opened her car door, stepping out into the chilly morning air. Timmy's phone never moved. His fist tightened on his steering wheel.

            Before he could change his mind, before he could tell himself it was a bad idea, Timmy forced himself from the car and moved toward Nicolle. As soon as she saw him " a knife in my gut, that's what you're doing to me, Nicolle " her vibrant, alive energy sank away. But she stopped walking, he noticed the silver lining; she was going to talk to him.

            “Hey Timmy,” she said, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

            You are killing me. Can you not see that?! I have been in love with you since... since BEFORE I EVER EVEN MET YOU. And yet you vanquish my heart without a care, you continue to wound me with a smile on your face. How could you do this to me?! How could you join that CLUB when you knew I, your best friend, your protector, your confidant, despised them so? Am I so little in your eyes?! You make me so angry I could slap you!!

            “Hello Nicolle,” was what Timmy decided to say.

            Even behind her shades Nicolle could not quite bring herself to look him in the face; she shuffled her feet and watched them. “H-how is your nose feeling?”

            How is my NOSE?!?! It hurts, d****t! A battle wound I accrued from trying to take up for you! And how did you repay me? By staring at that... that BOY as if he were the hero, not me!

            “It's alright,” Timmy smiled weakly, touching the bandage on his face. His mother had cried when she'd seen it, vowing to speak with the principal as soon as she could. “Not as bad as it looks, really.”

            Nicolle nodded and smiled a little herself, but said nothing. After several seconds like this Timmy spoke.

            “How's the Chess Club working out for you?”

            He said this with a passing, polite curiosity, but he could have spat the words. Nicolle shrugged but smiled a little stronger.

            “It's good. I have friends there"”

            NO YOU DO NOT I AM YOUR FRIEND THEY ARE POSERS AND LIARS!

            “-- and they're helping me find who I really am"”

            WENCH... YOU ALREADY WERE WHO YOU ARE, THEY WILL POLLUTE YOU! I AM THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU!

            “-- and, you know... they're good people, really. Interesting people.”

            Timmy's anger was rising, goodness gracious it was rising... but she was talking to him, wasn't she? If he ruined this he had to consider that next time she may not stop when he hailed her, she may keep walking. He took a calming breath and closed his eyes.

            “Think you could best me in chess now? I bet you're learning all the good chess moves, as much time as you're spending with the Chess Club these days...”

            Nicolle averted her eyes, tried to keep smiling, and shrugged. “Maybe.”

            The stillness that followed was not comfortable but awkward; he had gone into territory she didn’t want to discuss.

            “The Chess Club isn't a chess club, is it?” He forced the anger from his voice; it came out quite expressionless.

            Nicolle looked in the direction of the school, as if longing for the sanctuary of that room all the Chess Club members meet in. She shrugged yet again before answering, her voice quiet and somewhat vexed.

            “No.”

            I was right, he thought with furious triumph. I knew it. It's a sex club. Or more likely, a gang. For so long everyone had wondered " never seriously, but almost playfully " what went on amongst those in the Chess Club. Nicolle now knew... and she was not telling.

            “Are we still friends, Nicky?” Timmy asked.

            Nicolle " still looking to the school " nodded. Then: “And please don't call me Nicky.”

            “But we're still friends?”

            Nicolle nodded again.

            “Okay,” he said. With genuine relief: “Good.”

            “Okay,” Nicolle said with a nod and a smile. “I've gotta go, Timmy. I'm glad you're doing better, your nose and all...”

            “Can I walk you to... wherever you're going?” The desperation he heard in his voice angered him, that neediness to be near someone who was seemingly trying to escape him. “You're going to that room on the third floor, right?”

            Nicolle nodded and took a deep, exhausted sigh. “Yeah, it's mandatory for all Chess Club members to meet there before classes start...”

            “No, it's not mandatory,” Timmy forced a laugh. “You don't have to do what they say. If you wanted you could skip and come to class with me...” Timmy didn't even finish his sentence. The fact that meeting there was mandatory was not the reason she was going, even if that was the reason she gave him. She wanted to be up there. She wanted to be away from him. But she did say they were still friends, right...? “May I walk you?”

            Nicolle rose one shoulder and dropped it, a lifeless shrug, and said, “Okay.”

            Ten thousand things, ten thousand talk topics, came to Timmy as they walked: what is the Chess Club really? Why does everyone wear those sunglasses? Why do they get away with so much? How could you possibly want to be among them? And what about your eyes? Are they still that black color? Are all of their eyes black, too? But he never spoke them, never spoke at all, in fact; fear of rejection silenced him. They walked into the school without conversation, up the first flight of steps, up the second flight of steps, and at last came to the third floor. Down the hall was Nicolle's destination, the Chess Club's meeting room.

            Nicolle turned to Timmy and smiled. Barely.

            “Thanks for walking me, Timmy,” she said. “See you later, then.”

            She half turned to walk away when he spoke, stopping her in her tracks.

            “Let me see your eyes.”

            “What?” Even behind her shades he saw the confusion and concern. Mere days ago she had pulled him aside to show him her odd eye color change; now she no longer wanted him to see. Why? Was it because of the Chess Club?

            “I want to see your eyes,” he said. “Are they still black?”

            “Maybe later, Timmy,” she said, walking backwards slowly. Away from him. “We don't have much time before class starts, I probably need to get inside...”

            Timmy went to her calmly and peacefully, which belied his intentions; once he was close enough to her he simply reached out and pulled them off. She tried to grab for them but his height played to his favor. Her eyes remained closed.

            “What are you doing?! This is crazy,” she said, reaching blindly for the out-of-reach shades. “Give them to me, Timmy.”

            “Open your eyes,” Timmy said. “You refused to yesterday in the lunchroom, in front of everyone, but why not when you're alone with me, your best friend? Hm? Let me see.”

            Her eyes remained closed. “Give them to me now, Timmy. I'm starting to get upset.”

            YOU'RE STARTING TO GET UPSET?! WHAT ABOUT ME?! I'VE BEEN IN EMOTIONAL HELL EVER SINCE YOU"!

            The door to Room 44 opened and out they came, five in total; immediately Timmy's hand dropped back down, not wanting to be seen holding the sunglasses over his head. His anger was rising; they were coming to her defense. They were defending her from him.

            “Excuse me, friend,” said the red head with the white sunglasses. “What in the goof is going on here?”

            “Cause when we walked out just now...” The boy in the leather jacket; Beaumont's brother, Timmy thought. “... it looked like maybe Nicolle was a little distressed over something.”

            The shades no longer above Timmy's head, Nicolle reached out and snatched them back, quickly putting them on. Then she backed up until she was standing among the others. Six Chess Club members facing Timmy, none of them looking too happy about it.

            “I'll see you later,” Nicolle said.

            Timmy nodded; he had lost. “Okay.”

            “Bye.”

            “Bye,” he said, going unheard amongst the movement of them returning to their room. A jock in a letterman jacket was the last to step inside; he turned, mocked Timmy with a theatrical frown, boo hoo on you, and the door closed.

            It didn't occur to Timmy until the middle of first period, Nicolle's usual by the window seat empty in front of him: she had an eye bruise yesterday when her sunglasses came off. Now she doesn't.

            He never heard a word Mr. Meister said that morning.

 

            “So who was that guy?”

            Dominic asked this question to Nicolle " several of the Chess Club standing near the door after returning inside Room 44 -- but it was Vee who answered.

            “An old friend of Nicolle's,” she said; Nicolle looking unsatisfied with the answer, Vee verified: “Not exactly a friend... but, from what I've gathered, he's not not a friend...”

            “We've hung out for a few years now,” Nicolle said. “But really he's just kind of followed me around. Neither of us really had any friends so he kinda gravitated towards me. He annoys me sometimes... a lot, lately... but I've always let him hang around anyway because...” Nicolle shrugged.

            “Pity,” Elyse said. “You felt sorry for him because he was alone, like you, but didn't like him enough to make him a full friend. Trust me, I can taste the exact mood of the situation.”

            “Well, whatever his problem, he came up here and pulled your glasses off your face,” Dominic said, not entirely happy. “If he does it again we'll have to do something about him.”

            “As soon as I overheard what he was thinking I had everyone run out,” Vee said, crossing her arms threateningly. “He creeps me out, Nicolle. You should have overheard...”

            “I'm pretty sure I already know what he's thinking,” Nicolle said. Creeps me out too. But Timmy... I wish it wasn't happening this way for you...

            “Enough about that guy,” Dominic said. Turning to Elyse he said: “Is Eli close?”

            “He's on his way up now,” she said. Catching the look on Vee's face, Elyse added: “Alone.”

            “Better be,” Vee said. “And he'd better hurry, too, we don't have all the live long day.”

            “What's going on?” Nicolle asked. Only now did it register with her that something was odd; Dominic seemed more on edge compared to his usual self, and Vee looked like she were anticipating a meteor strike. Everyone looked more somber, really.

            “You'll hear in just a second,” Maria squeaked from the side. “Dominic's going to make an announcement.”

            “Announcement?” Nicolle asked.

            Everyone was still standing near the door when it opened. Elijah stepped inside and removed his shades. a tight gray V-neck accenting his eyes. Nicolle watched his every movement with unblinking eyes, a fluttering heat blossoming in her chest.

            “What's this about?” He asked; his voice was raspy, how hot is that, Nicolle thought. As usual he looked annoyed to have been summoned.

            “Let's sit down for a minute,” Dominic said. Everyone made their way to the couches: Nicolle, Elyse, and Maria on one, Darius, Brooklyn, and Jackson to another (Peter leaning on the couch arm), and Vee and Dominic on the last. Elijah, surprise, surprise, stood alone... but Nicolle was happy to see that he stood near her couch; she doubted she would be capable of paying much attention to Dominic now. I mean, holy heaven! Is that scent HIM? Smells absolutely fantastic, like"!

            “Ahem,” Vee said, shooting Nicolle a sweet furtive smile. “Now that we have everyone's eyes and ears...”

            “I awoke this morning being alerted by my Up-and-Coming Artistry,” Dominic said.

            “What?” Elyse said, stunned.

            “Oh crap,” Vee said.

            “Wait, what?” Maria squeaked. “What's that? I've never heard of that Artistry.”

            “Me either,” Darius said.

            “It's only happened one other time,” Dominic said. “That was when it was only me, Eli, Vee, and Elyse. So the rest of you wouldn't know. It's an Artistry that triggers when something is about to happen. An event is coming, or"”

            “Is it bad?” Maria asked.

            Dominic shrugged. “The only other time it happened it was. My mother got hurt. I don't know if it alerts to good things or not.”

            “I don't think it would work that way,” Elijah spoke up unexpectedly; Nicolle's head swiveled around to stare up at him in wonder. “I would bet it acts as a survival Artistry, alarming you only to incoming threats in order to warn you.”

            Dominic nodded solemnly to his brother. “I think you're right.”

            “So... something bad is about to happen?” Brooklyn asked. She sounded so put out by this that it was almost funny. Nicolle nearly expected her to finish with: Ohmygah, like, that would be so bad... it had better not happen on Thursday, cause, like, I'm getting my hair done then...

            “Probably,” Dominic answered. “I wanted everyone to be forewarned. As long as we're careful there's no need to assume anyone's gonna"”

            Elyse gasped; everyone jumped.

            “What?” Vee asked.

            “Someone's at the d"”

            Knock, knock, knock. No one even needed to be told; sunglasses came on in a flash.

            “No Artistries,” Dominic whispered. Then, a little louder to Elyse: “Who is it?”

            “I can't tell exactly... the mood's a little off-put, but mostly pleasant...”

            “I know who it is,” Vee said. “I can hear her thoughts from here... where's Eli, where's Eli?”

            “It's Presley?” Elijah asked. He walked to the door, answered it, and yup: Presley stood there, her hands held behind her back. Vee groaned as if nauseous, which caused Maria to giggle. “Hey, what's wrong?”

            “You said that text you got was urgent and ran up here,” she said, peeking inside for signs of whatever was 'urgent'. What did she see? The entire Chess Club sitting together, shades on, somber and silent. “I was making sure everything was okay.”

            “Yeah, everything's fine,” Elijah told her.

            No one said a word for a moment.

            “So... what was wrong?” She asked this with genuine concern, her eyes innocent and caring. She's so gorgeous, Nicolle couldn't help but think. Whatever she had attained by being alone with Elijah the day before withered away at the sight of Presley's outstanding attractiveness.

            “We, uh,” Elijah said, turning to look at the Club. “we're...”

            “Drawing names out of a hat to see who competes at the county championships!” Vee said this loudly enough so Presley could hear her. “We kind of needed to get it over with quick, so...”

            “It was urgent,” Maria said, backing Vee up.

            “We waited waaay too long,” Elyse agreed.

            “About damn time we got around to drawing names out of a hat!” Jackson yelled. “I've been waiting forever!”

            Maria slapped a hand over her mouth to repress a laugh; this did not go unnoticed by Presley, who looked up to Elijah for confirmation of the whole story. He merely smiled at her.

            “So... who got picked?” Presley asked.

            Too many were too fast to the punch:

            Vee: “Nicolle!”

            Elyse: “I did!”

            Maria: “It was Vee!”

            No one spoke again for a moment; Dominic was resting his face in his hands, apparently unable to watch. Presley looked back up to Elijah again. He smiled at her.

            “Can I... talk to you, sweetheart?” Presley whispered, looking up to Elijah as she spoke.

            He nodded, placing a hand on her back as they exited. The door clicked and they were gone.

            “Ohhh... myyyyyy... goodness,” Vee said, doing a total face-palm. “Could we have wrecked that any worse?!”

            “I highly doubt it,” Dominic said. “All of you guys suck.”

            “I wonder what's going on out there,” Maria said, fists balled up nervously. “Poor Elijah.”

            “She's not angry, not at all,” Elyse said. Then she sighed. “She's afraid. She's scared he's hiding something from her.”

            “They'll be fine, they always are,” Dominic said. “He'll tell her about this one day, when she's ready, and they'll be fine. Now let's butt out and get back to business... I'll just finish telling Eli once we get home tonight. From what I can tell the Up-and-Artistry is more sensitive to...”

            He'll tell her about this one day, when she's ready, and they'll be fine. Nicolle was haunted by the thought. Second by second, it seemed her chances of winning Elijah Beaumont's love fell. Dominic spoke of an impending something in their futures that could be bad; that considered, Nicolle already saw something bad in hers.

 

            The library " the new library, not Room 44 " was almost entirely vacant; not even the librarian was to be found. Nicolle liked the solitude; only the Chess Club girls (minus Brooklyn, naturally) were in attendance. Elyse was once again using her Go Away Artistry but was still keeping her sights out for anyone who might somehow get past that.

            The school day was nearing its end; the sunlight coming through the high windows of the room conjured a sleepy feeling for Nicolle, who was listening to Vee explain which foods compliment which Artistries. Elyse laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes, resting. Maria alone seemed unperturbed, showing no sleepiness at all; on the contrary, she was the only one not sitting down. Instead, with the excitement of a kid, Maria was walking around the library with her fingertips touching the spines of the books in the shelves, absorbing the knowledge within them.

            “No one is above a little help now and again,” Vee said. “Sometimes your diet can have a positive effect on your Artistries.”

            “I'd wondered a little about that,” Nicolle said. “When I was with Elijah he was drinking a vitamin water"”

            “He does that,” Vee said. “The White Artistry is more draining for the person being healed than the one healing... he says it helps remove any tiredness if the healing is really big.”

            Just thinking of Elijah made Nicolle's recovered mood sink a little; when she'd seen he and Presley again later there appeared to be no problems at all between them. Dominic had been right. They would be just fine.

            “Stop thinking about that,” Vee said. “We'll take care of him later. For now... fruits.”

            “Fruits,” Nicolle agreed.

            “Watermelon seems to sharpen Green Artistries some,” Vee said. “Dom attributes it to the antioxidants, but other antioxidant rich foods don't have the same effect. And keep in mind, Darling, I said sharpen, not improve... they will help your Artistries be more fine-tuned, kinda like coffee in the morning for a dreary person, but they won't make them stronger. Now. Peaches go for the Yellow Artistry"”

            “Yum,” Elyse said sleepily, head still down.

            “-- it might be the Vitamin C. Who knows. Bananas are good for Artists of the White. Strawberries are good for Artists of the Black, or so we think... we'll have to test that out sometime...”

            “Guess what!” Maria spoke across the length of the library. “There are six-thousand-eight hundred-and-fifty-two islands in the Japanese archipelagos, the four largest being Honshu, Hokkiado, Kyushu, Shikoku, and one-hundred-and-twenty-seven million people people live on them!”

            “That's wonderful babe!” Vee called back; Maria continued walking and absorbing knowledge. “Where was I?”

            “Um,” Nicolle said.

            “Grapes are for Artists of the Black, right. Now. Apples are good for Artists of the Red... that's the reason Jackson drinks apple juice, if ever you've seen it. I know for a fact that Artists of the Blue benefit from strawberries. Caffeine seems to help me, too. Oh, and Purples are helped by"”

            “Plums!” Maria yelled out again. “Grown mostly in China! Gained its name from Pliny the Elder, a Roman historian and scientist... speaking of Pliny, he was the son of an equestrian, who is never named! And...!”

            “That's spectacular, dear!” Vee shook her head and smiled. “Cute kid. Needs to slow the heck down though, we don't want her head to explode.”

            “How did you guys learn all of this about fruits and stuff?” Nicolle asked. “Was that Elijah's dad too?”

            Vee nodded. “He left Dom and Eli with a good bit of info " much of it theoretical, but a lot of it proven " before he ended up leaving altogether.”

            “I've wondered sometimes...” Elyse mumbled, eyes closed, “... if he ever found anything.”

            “More Artists, you mean? I bet he did,” Vee said. “We can't be alone in the world. That wouldn't make sense.”

            Maria whipped past them, fingers still on the spines of the books, before going around a corner and out of sight.

            “Something I've thought about,” Nicolle whispered. “What if non-Artists found out about us? You know? What would happen to us?”

            “Dom and Eli have talked about that a whole lot,” Vee said. “It wouldn't be good, I can tell ya that flat out now. People would be scared of us.”

            The sunlit library grew silent, apart from the distant sound of Maria walking along the shelves.

            “Now I'm in the mood for peaches...” Elyse grumbled.

            “You guys wanna maybe get something after school?” Nicolle asked. She wasn't going to hide it; she was quickly growing addicted to having friends.

            “Not Shootin' Beans again though,” Vee said with a grin. “For reasons I'd rather not disclose, my lady friends.”

            Elyse chortled. “Ask Maria. We'll make it a girl's thing.”

            “Maria! How's about a girl's thing tonight, you in? You can only bring three books with you!”

            Nicolle giggled. Vee was smiling too... and then the smile was gone. Elyse was suddenly upright, sleepiness apparently gone.

            “Maria!” Elyse yelled. And she was up and running.

            “What...?” Nicolle asked; both Elyse and Vee were sprinting around the last corner Maria had gone around. Nicolle quickly followed, terrified but not sure why.

            “No! Maria, can you hear me!? D****t, Maria!”

            Nicolle reached them and wished she hadn't. Maria was on the floor. Her sunglasses were askew from where she'd fallen and hit her face on the carpet. Her Purple Eyes were open but looking at nothing at all.

            “Maria, come on!” Vee was knelt down beside Maria, shaking her. “Oh my... Elyse, I can't hear her thoughts"”

            “I'm calling 911,” Nicolle said, barely even hearing her own faint words.

            “Should we?” Elyse asked. “What can they do, they don't know about Artistries! Get Elijah!”

            “He won't know how to heal this... what's even wrong with her?!” Vee yelled; she turned her attention back to Maria, taking her face in her hands. “Maria! Maria!”

            Maria did not stir. Maria did not smile at the act of absorbing knowledge with her fingertips, Maria did not giggle at something whimsical; Maria, for once, did not brighten the room with her kindness. Maria was dead.

 

Reviews

[Lost in Wonderland]

:O noo!!! Not Maria?!?! :,(

[Melody]

Oh my god!! NOO!! My heart has crumbled...:'( Maria...I'd accept Brooklyn because she's such a b***h but...Maria...

Still great job...You've accomplished getting tears out of me which doesn't happen often. Can't wait for more!

[ScottWinchester]

Seriously, you're becoming my new favorite person lol.

[Melody]

I can't stop reading it. XD Thank you for continually posting the chapters, if you weren't- I think I would die from withdrawal. Lol

[ScottWinchester]

I may actually love you this time LOL.

Just kidding. But not really. But... just kidding lol.

[Melody]

Lol.