Sparks Fly

Chapter 11

Sparks Fly

Chapter 11

When I sense Cliff speeding up towards me, I break out into a run. Cliff hurt me. He doesn’t know Don like I do. Don cares about me.

“Tristen!”

Ignore him. Walk away.

“God damn it, Tristen!”

My jaw is closed tightly, and my veins are pulsing heavily. The plastic bags in my hands feel as if they’re filled with rocks, and my hands grow weak. A strong, flowing sensation ignites within me, and the streetlight flickers.

A zap stings my palm, causing me to drop the bag in my right hand. I hiss and huff in annoyance. The night’s wind hits me with extra strength, beckoning me forward. I fall to my knees and wince as my wound stretches.

Curses fly from my mouth and echo throughout the neighborhood. I stuff the poster into a bag and hold my knee in pain.

Cliff mutters something then helps me up.

“You’re always helping me up,” I say, letting go of our futile fight.

Cliff chuckle’s roughly.

“Let’s go already.” He holds my grocery bags easily, relieving me of the weight.

We silently walk home, not mentioning a word about our petty fight, as a matter of fact, not mentioning a word at all.

Cliff starts whistling a depressing-tuned song, and it lulls me sweetly. Gently, my eyelashes bat down, brushing over my pale skin.

Before I know it, we’re inside, changing into our sleep attire. My pants fit loosely on my scrawny legs. Cliff’s whistle song lingers in my head. A hand touches my shoulder.

“Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready,” Jordan murmurs, shutting the empty room’s door, leaving me alone.

Finally a moment alone.

I allow myself to take a moment to recollect what has happened these past days. This is by far the most peace and solitude I’ve had ever since the kidnapping.

The edges of my mouth curve into a smile at the word.

Kidnapping . . .

Thoughts press at my brain. Everything’s finally gathering together. Powers. I still partially refuse to believe in such things. Powers are fanciful and fictional. On the other hand, they’re my reality now.

There are people after us. They shot Lorcan’s arm that day. Come to think of it, Lorcan and the rest probably warded off the enemy with powers. The enemy left shortly after that gunshot, as I recall. If the enemy had powers, they would’ve used some other sort of magical weapon. Instead, they used human made weapons.

After coming to a conclusion that the enemy doesn’t have powers, I take in the scent of my suitcase whole-heartedly.

Early tomorrow we’ll be heading towards the enemy’s “hideout” or hopefully. I can’t tie my head around the fact that we’re going to be in dire danger very soon. Then again, I’m more than ready to face these sick people.

A rush of adrenaline pumps through me with full power. I twitch. My feet lead me to the kitchen where everyone’s walking around, picking up plates, and sitting down.

A plate eventually meets my cold hands after they leave Cliff’s giving ones.

“Thanks,” I say quietly, taking a seat across from Lorcan.

“I’m so pumped,” Lorcan says, stuffing steaming Top Ramen into his eager mouth. My eyes fall onto my bowl. The cheap ramen floats to the surface, giving off a chicken broth smell. I poke at it with one of the spoons Cliff has prepared at the table.