The Legend of the Firewalker, Book #1

Chapter 10.2

Author Note:

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Chapter 10.2

Lafonda leaned back in the chair and ran her hand through her hair before gently clearing her throat. "So, did you know her?" she asked.

Nathan didn't move. He realized Lafonda had said something but his mind was racing again. "She's real," he repeated to himself. "Leah's a real person."

Nathan closed the yearbook and placed it softly on his desk. Slowly, he walked over to the foot of his bed. Without thinking about it, he plopped down, almost exposing the scorched bed sheets.

Quietly, he stared at the white brick walls to his dorm room. Does this mean I'm like a psychic, or something? he thought. He then examined the palms of his hands. And if I'm not psychic,then I guess it's a safe bet that I have some type of power.

He had a solemn look on his face. This is great! I was just dying for a way to be even more different. Yippee! I am so excited to add more weirdness points to my outcast factor.

Lafonda sat up in her chair and then crossed her arms. "Um, Nathan," she said, "Earth to Nathan."

"What?" he uttered, while blinking his eyes.

"Are your hands bothering you again, or something?"

"No," he said. He turned around to look at her. "My hands are fine."

"Well, you sure are acting weird," she said, relaxing back into her chair.

Nathan let out a slight chuckle. Weird, huh? he thought. You don't even know the half of it.

He clasped his hands together and then placed them against his mouth. Powers or no powers, the one thing he knew for certain was that Leah was real, and so was the blue flame that had scorched his bed. So that meant the red-hooded Twilight: New Moon wannabes were real too, and so were their black-hooded doppelgangers.

With his hands still clasped together against his mouth, Nathan took a deep breath and shook his head. He didn't even want to begin to think about the strange lady dressed in white, let alone her shiny silver dagger. He shook his head again. Yup, we are definitely in danger, he thought. We all are.

Lafonda sat up on her chair again, this time clapping her hands together before placing them in her lap. "Okay," she said. "So are you going to tell me if you knew Leah or not?"

He continued to stare at the wall. "Why did Jonathan Black have the yearbook?" he asked.

She scowled. "I don't know!" she said. "Something about research. Nathan, are you listening to me or, better yet, can you hear me?"

"W-what?" he slurred, shaking his head and turning to face her. "What are you complaining about?"

She opened the yearbook again. "Ugh!" she growled, while pointing at Leah's picture. "I've only asked you like a million times. Did — you — know — her?"

Nathan could see the frustration building in her face. He wanted to tell her everything about his hands, Leah, and the mysterious black dog he had seen in the forest the day Malick almost drove them off the road. But then he remembered his dreams. A cold shiver ran down his back. He remembered how helpless he'd felt as the black-hooded figure withdrew his sword, and the pain in his stomach as he'd clung to Lafonda's lifeless body.

Nathan stared intently at Leah's picture. Just to make sure, he read the list of names that ran next to the row of pictures: last row, third picture, Leah Davenport.

Tears began to swell in his eyes. "No," he said, while diverting his gaze, "I didn't know her."   

Lafonda stood up, leaving the yearbook on the desk. "Jeez," she said, "you acted like I was speaking a different language, or something." She paused to fix her orange leadership shirt and then placed her foot on the wooden chair to tie her shoe. "Well, I guess I'll let you go, then," she said. "I'd better get going before my group realizes I'm gone and decides to act crazy."

"Wait, hold on," Nathan said, staring at her shoes. They weren't the gray-and-pink ones she had been wearing in his dream; they were white.

Lafonda stopped mid-walk and turned around to face him. "What?" she said.

Nathan's forehead wrinkled, and he fidgeted a little before resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Are those your only pair of sneakers?" he asked.

Casually, she looked down and then back at him. "Yes, here at camp," she said. "What? You don't like white sneakers?"

He took a deep breath and smiled. "No, no," he said. "Those are fine."

Lafonda smirked and looked down again. "Yeah, they're kinda plain, huh?"

Nathan almost fell off the edge of the bed. "No, no," he said. "In fact, they are better than fine. Those are great!"

"Well, okay then," she laughed. "Thanks, Nathan. I'll see you downstairs." 

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