The Thing About Timing (The Becoming of Elliott Goode)

Chapter 10

Cordelia had been so enthralled in grading the test that she hadn't even noticed the girl left. Once she finished grading the test she counted up the points for each section and sat there stunned. She had made this test specifically so the girls wouldn't get perfect scores, even going as far as to put college level calculus on it. Elliott had aced it. A 98%. The girl hadn't been in a real school in years but apparently had taught herself calculus. She was brilliant, and here Cordelia was expecting to have to teach her everything. Cordelia had felt guilty for assuming the girl was that far behind, but there was a good reason for it. She got up and headed to Elliott's room for the two of them to talk, hoping she had given the girl enough time to calm down, but when she knocked on the door no one answered. She opened it and the room was empty, so she headed to the library to see if she was there, nothing. She called out for the girl but got no response. She checked the greenhouse, the panic settling in when she realized the girl was gone. She ran back to the house and checked Elliott's room again, this time searching for her backpack, which she soon realized was gone too.

She didn't know how long she had been gone, she never heard her leave. She had been grading the test for a little over an hour, in that time Elliott could have easily made her way to a bus station and gotten the hell out of there. Cordelia had no way of getting in contact with the girl, no phone number or anything. Cordelia cursed herself for not getting the girl a phone or even asking if she had one. She quickly grabbed her keys and headed to the car, knowing trying to get a vision of the girl was of no use.

She drove along the streets for a bit looking for her, hoping she didn't go too far. If she had gone to a bus station there was no way Cordelia would find her, she was already too far gone. The idea made Cordelia's stomach knot. She drove to the other side of town with a new focus. If she could find David, chances are he could help her find Elliott, or maybe she was with him. That is, if he was willing to help her. She headed to the corner store, hoping someone there would know how to contact him.

Meanwhile, Elliott sat on the floor of David's small apartment, arguing with the boy. "I'm not going back. I was just fine before and I'll be fine now. I don't need them." She argued.

"But you do need them Elliott. As annoying as they may be they're just trying to help you. You have to be able to control this thing, its obviously not going away." He responded. Elliott knew he was right, but she was mad, and she didn't want him to be trying to convince her.

"I can learn how to control them on my own. I've done it before. I don't need them for that. They want me to use it, they think it's some sort of gift. It's not, and I want no part of it. How the hell am I supposed to stay at that school? It's not free and I don't want to feel like I owe them something. I don't. They have no leverage on me." She responded emphatically.

"Ever consider they're just being nice?" David asked, earning him a doubtful glare from Elliott, "Maybe they don't actually want anything from you except for you to learn how to use your powers? Is that really so bad?"

"You don't know them. Somethings up I can tell. They're too nice. No one is that nice unless they're hiding something or they want something. Cordelia is trying way too hard to get to know me." She said matter of factly, earning a laugh from David.

"Did you ever think maybe she DOES want to get to know you? She supposedly in charge, wouldn't she want to get to know things about her girls? Like what makes them angry so she can help them control whatever they have?" He responded, amused at how worked up Elliott was getting. He knew he was right, and Elliott did too. Sometimes he would just laugh at the lengths Elliott would go to keep people out, but then again she was only hurting herself.

Elliott sat silent, defeated. She knew he was right, that she wasn't making sense. But something seemed off to her. She didn't like all the hushed conversations the witches were having, the way they looked at her, like there was something she wasn't being told. It was like she had a giant explosive sign taped to her back. She felt the same way whenever she met with her social worker or a new family, a giant "handle with caution" stamped on her forehead.