Larkstorm (7 page)

I press the locator button for Beck again. This time, it shows him in the Headmaster’s office. My stomach drops.

What did they do? What the
hell
did they do?

Mr. Trevern guides Kyra through the door. She looks completely unfazed. A sharp gust of wind howls through the opening and I pull my coat tighter. The blast of cold air brings Mr. Trevern back into focus.

Before the door swings shut, I catch one last glimpse of Kyra. She reaches up and rips the hair elastic from her ponytail, letting her curls beat against her face. Maybe it’s the confusion of the room, but I swear she almost looks excited.

My legs shake and I force the suffocating air in and out of my constricting lungs. I need to be outside. I need fresh air.

I shove my way out the door, my mind racing to catch up to my actions. It wouldn’t be the first time Beck or Kyra got into a bit of trouble, but they’ve been at each other non-stop. Arguing. Snide comments. They wouldn’t do anything together. Maybe they had a fight? But when? And where was I?

I pause, waiting for the rest of my housemates to catch up. In the silence of the outdoors, Kyra’s strange parting smile bothers me. She also knows something. Something she’s happy about. I’m sure of it. What did she say
—
“It’s starting?” What’s starting?

Someone calling my name interrupts my thoughts. My housemates gather around me as we walk toward the path.

Our progress is slow as we plod near the barricade and the armed guards. The snow is about a foot deep now, much deeper than the dusting we had earlier. The wind whips around me and lashes at my small group. My housemates’ conversations range from excitement at being sent home early to confusion. I don’t say anything, just silently battle my way down the path.

As we trudge along, I can’t remember the walk home ever taking so long. Each passing minute is excruciating. I want to run, to find Bethina, to find out what’s happened, but the snow and wind keep pushing me back. They don’t want me to go home.

Finally, our house comes into view. The last on a block with just three others. I slip and slide over the icy sidewalk. The wind knocks snow from the trees down onto us. With no concern of falling, I sprint up the walkway to our blue two-story home.

I heave open the wood door, the cold clinging to me, and stomp inside. Other than the muffled noises of the others with me, the house holds no sound. The familiar scent of cinnamon wafts around us, but Bethina’s not at her normal post
,
waiting to greet us with a boisterous
,
“Welcome home!”

 
“B?” I call. A deafening silence answers. My heart races and fear courses through my veins. The sick feeling intensifies and I grab at my stomach. Please, please Bethina, please be here. Hunched forward, I run ahead of my housemates, toward the kitchen.

The fully lit kitchen is abandoned. A pot of water boils on the burner. A cookie sheet of biscuits has been flung haphazardly on the counter.

Terrified, I march through the throng of students in front of me. Their scared whispers fill the air. Once past them, I sprint from room to room searching. “Bethina!” I yell. “Bethina! Where are you?”

 
Room after room, empty. I begin to believe the unbelievable
—
that Bethina is gone
—
when I see her sitting in the oversized striped chair in the living room, not moving. So still she looks almost asleep, except her eyes are open. Open but not really seeing. She’s just staring.

“B?” I ask softly, but she doesn’t answer. I grab her shoulders and shake her.

“Bethina! Are you okay?”

All the others have joined us. The confused group looks to me, as if I should know what’s going on.

The melting snow from our shoes and hats puddles onto the wood floor. I force myself to calm down and take a deep breath. I step back from Bethina into the semi-circle my housemates have formed in front of the chair and survey the scene. Not knowing what to do, I raise my hand and slap Bethina sharply across the face.

Someone gasps.

“Bethina!” I scream, becoming more frightened. “Wake up! Do you know what’s happened?”

The outline of my hand on her cheek turns into an ugly red print.

She moves her head from side to side as if making a mental checklist. I’ve seen her do this many times on our outings
—
making sure she’s left no one behind, counting and identifying each of us.

“Kyra?” she whispers.

I kneel in front of her and take her hand. “Mr. Trevern took her to see the Headmaster.”

Bethina groans and balls her hand under mine. “But no one else?”

“Not from our group.” I swivel around to scan the group of boys who just entered. My eyes dart over each face, searching.

“Where’s Beck?” I ask.

Bethina makes a weird choking sound. Her tear-stained face contorts. A small movement of her head to the side. The world spins. I know before she says it.

“Beck’s not coming back.”

I hear nothing else because the world goes black.
 
 
 
 
 

8

Swimming. The warm water engulfs me and tempts me out further and further, but my legs shake and I can’t go on. Beck stands on the float about twenty yards from shore. Water drips from his hair and rolls down his torso. If I had never noticed how beautiful he is, I would now.

“Lark, c’mon,” he calls out to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He leaps off the platform, a perfect dive into the calm water. But I’m too scared to move now that I can’t see him. Despite the perfect sunny sky, white caps form on the water.

Beck surfaces, struggling against the waves. “Lark, help me!”

But I can’t. I’m too afraid.

#

“She’ll wake up soon, Bethina.” A man’s voice. Dr. Hanson, maybe? “You don’t have to worry. Lark’s going to be okay.”

“What am I going to tell her? She’ll never get over it.” Bethina’s voice is strained. She’s been crying.

“Are you worried that she won’t get over it or that she’ll do something rash?”

“Both,” Bethina says. “You don’t know Lark like I do.”

I try to move my lips, but they’re dry. My eyelids are heavy. Was I crying too?

No. I was swimming with Beck and then…

The images blur in my mind
—
we were swimming. The water was so warm. Bethina sitting in the chair. Beck in the water, struggling.

I sit up, startling Dr. Hanson and Bethina. I force my parched throat to spit out some words.

“Where is he? Where’s Beck?” My voice is hoarse. Maybe we
were
swimming and I swallowed too much water?

Dr. Hanson reaches for me carefully. “Shhh…darling, just relax, lie down.”

I can’t be still. An uncomfortable tingling sensation fills every inch of my body. I have to get up and move.

Something is wrong, but I can’t remember what. My memory is full of empty spaces and the more I pick at them, the larger the holes become. But Dr. Hanson is here and he only comes for the worst cases.

Waves of nausea rip through me and I double over. The hands of the grandfather clock tick. Seconds melt away.

Nothing makes sense. Bethina said Beck’s gone, but that’s crazy. Where did he go? Where would he go without me?

Fifteen seconds. Each tick brings my mind out of its groggy state. Strong hands restrain me from behind and crush my arms to my sides.

Why? What did I do? The tingling grows stronger.

I have to get away. I struggle and thrash until I see Bethina’s face. She touches my forehead and the desire to flee disappears. My muscles tense and then relax as a comforting warmth spreads across every inch of my body.

In my tranquil state, I remember. Beck was involved in an incident. He did something. Something so terrible that he’s gone.

The stillness shatters.

“Where is he
?
” I scream.

“He’s gone,” Bethina answers.

The tingling gives way to a surge of energy. It builds and pushes out from my center.

“But where
?
Where did he go?”

“The State took him,” Dr. Hansen says.

“Why?” I cry as I swivel my head between Bethina and Dr. Hansen. A loud splitting sound from the other room is followed by a thunderous crash. The house shakes and screams erupt in the hallway. “Because of Annalise? She’s wrong. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Lark, honey. Just relax. You’re going to upset everyone. You need to settle down.” Bethina takes my left hand
—
my arms are still pinned by Dr. Hanson
—
and traces small circles across the back of it.

“Now, take a deep breath and calm down so I can talk to you properly.”

A pain stabs my heart and I double forward, pulling Dr. Hanson with me. He releases me just before we tumble forward. I gasp as a strange throbbing stings my arms. Every nerve of my body aches as electric currents race along my skin.

Fully conscious, I shake my head at Bethina. I don’t want to talk. I want to know where the State took Beck and no one’s telling me. I draw on my rapidly dwindling reserve of strength to right myself. The pain is tolerable now, nothing more than a dull stab. My eyes fix on the door. If no one will give me answers, I’m going to find them.

I struggle to place one foot in front of the other. It’s as if cement blocks encase my feet. The energy surge I felt moments earlier drains away under the physical strain.

In my hindered state, Dr. Hanson easily blocks me before I can get to the door. I don’t understand
;
why can’t I leave? What don’t they want me to know?

“Please, Dr. Hanson, Bethina. Someone tell me what’s happened.”

They glance at each other, conferring silently.

“Lark,” Dr. Hanson begins, using the voice doctors reserve for the worse cases. “The State’s investigation found several students were involved in the security breach. Kyra and Beck among them. They’re not going to be coming back. They’re gone.”

Gone. That word again. I swivel my head toward him and narrow my eyes. The tingling sensation intensifies and a growl escapes my lips.

“Where? Where did they go?”

Dr. Hanson recoils, his eyes wide. He steps further from me until he’s out of my reach.

A maniacal laugh rushes past my lips. A grown man is afraid of me? The thought thrills me.

I narrow my eyes again as he cowers and moves closer to the door.

“Lark, you need to stop this. Get control of yourself.” Bethina forces her way between Dr. Hanson and me. She reaches for me and the darkness tempts me back.

But I can’t slip away. I need to know Beck’s okay. I grasp on to a table and steady myself as the air in the room grows denser than in the greenhouse. It pulls the oxygen from my lungs and chokes me.

Dr. Hanson backs away toward the door. Maz stands in the opening, his eyes red and swollen.

“Maz?” I cry, hoping he’ll tell me something.

Taking advantage of the open door, Dr. Hanson turns and bolts.

Maz yells, “They’re accusing them of being Sensitives!”

The door slams shut.

Furious and no longer encased in cement, I throw myself at the closed door, pulling on it and beating it with my fists. But it’s welded shut. I can’t open it.

I search around the room for something to ram it with. But there’s nothing. Nothing except Bethina watching me cautiously. Exhausted and defeated, I slump against the door.

Sensitives? The word stabs my brain. Impossible. I would know if Beck were a Sensitive. My fist slams into my thigh. How dare Maz say such a thing? Beck has a flawless pedigree
—
he’s not some monster.

I would have felt it, would have seen it. Wouldn’t I?

Tears well in my eyes and I pull my knees to my chest. I want to hide my face from Bethina.

“Lark?” Her voice is soft. A soft tickle works over my body, like a soothing caress. The urge to fight recedes, replaced by a need to be comforted.

“Why don’t you come sit over here?”

Out of habit, I obey. I use the doorknob to lift myself off the ground. My legs wobble and nearly give out under me.

“How? Bethina, how?” I lumber toward the couch. My heavy body collapses into the overstuffed cushions. “Beck is a Founder’s descendant. You can’t learn to be Sensitive
—
you’re born that way. And we were both genetically tested as infants. This has to be a mistake.”

Bethina hands me a glass of water. I take it and watch the beads run down the outside. They chase after one another gathering speed until they collide. All parts of a whole making their way back to one another.

“I’m afraid it isn’t. Beck is Sensitive. There’s evidence.”

“What evidence? What’s he ever done but be happy and silly and all those other things he is?” A cry is trapped in my throat, but I push it down and fight to compose myself. “His parents work for the State. They aren’t Sensitive.”

“All I know is that the investigation points at five students. I don’t know anything else.”

“Five! But how?” The questions rush out of me. “How did they attend school unnoticed? What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“And Kyra too?”

“Yes.” Bethina turns toward the window.

“Two of them in our house. Under your watch, Bethina? How did you not know?”

Her shoulders hunch forward and she dips her chin. “I can ask the same of you.”

I simply can’t believe this. Beck, my mate, is a Sensitive. And Kyra, my best friend, is too? This doesn’t make sense.

“What am I supposed to do?” The enormity of the situation presses on me. Beck is gone. And Kyra. My mate and my best friend. Everything we’d planned is gone.

Bethina continues to stare out the window. Her hands shake, but I can tell she’s trying to hold it together for me.

“I think it’s best if you just wait, Lark. Give it a day or two. I’m sure word will come soon for you.”

I tense at her implication. “What are you saying?”

She sighs and folds her hands. “Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps Beck isn’t the right mate for you.”

My spine tingles with anger.

“He’s my mate! My mate! What have you always said? We’re two sides of a coin? How can you even say that he’s not the best choice for me?”

She stands up, her face no longer composed. “Lark Greene
,
you stop that right now. Yelling at me is
not
going to bring Beck back.”

Shamed, I raise my eyes to Bethina. Her face is tear-stained and she looks like she’s been up for days.

“Where is he? Please tell me.” I try to sound pathetic, but what I really want is to sound menacing.

I want answers.

“I told you. The State took him. He’s not in jail. I’m positive of that. They’re probably interrogating the two of them. Now get control of yourself so we can discuss what needs to be done.” Her voice is firm. She’s done babying me.

“
Fine.
”

“You need to give me your necklace.” Bethina extends her hand.

 
“What? No.” I cover it protectively. Why would she want my necklace?

Her hand is cupped, waiting. “A clean break.”

The pressure continues to build inside of me, gathering speed like the beads of water. I’m spinning out of control. I want so badly to make someone feel my hurt.

Bethina’s head turns toward a faint cracking noise. “What in the…”

Before she finishes, the glass sitting on the side table explodes, sending water and glass spraying into the air.

Bethina screams.

I leap from my seat and yank at the door. It bursts open and I sprint to the stairs. jumping over the split banister, and running for my room. I’m not sure what just happened, but if the State thinks
—
wrongly
—
Beck and Kyra are Sensitives, there’s a good chance the real culprits are in our house somewhere.
B
iding their time.

Fear claws at me as I shove my curious housemates out of my way. Behind me, I leave a trail of confusion.

I reach my room and kick the door shut with my foot. I expect Bethina to barge in at any moment
—
or worse, the real Sensitives
—
so I wedge my desk chair under the doorknob.

And then I sink to the floor, my body convulsing with sobs.

How did this day go wrong so fast?

Seconds, then minutes, then an hour pass. Just when I think I’m out of tears, the memory of Beck’s soft lips brushing mine floats back to me. And even worse, he asked me to skip and I said no. If I had gone, maybe he’d still be here. Or, if I’d gone with him, I’d be facing life as an accused Sensitive too, with no chance at a real future.

Oh God. What if they’re going to put him on trial? What if I’m forced to watch Beck paraded across the screen, vilified and sentenced to jail? Or worse, sentenced to death if the State determines he actively sought to undermine its stability.

I rub my hands over my face and dig my fingers into the bridge of my nose. This can’t be happening.

“Lark? Do you need anything?” Bethina raps softly on the door. She doesn’t try to enter.

My raw throat burns when I speak. “Leave me alone.”

Her footsteps fade as she walks away. The hazy afternoon light filters through the window. It’s only been two hours since I arrived home. But it’s been nearly three hours since I last saw Beck. Maybe if I had insisted he talk to me and tell me what was scaring him, this wouldn’t have happened. Or if I hadn’t kept pulling away from him, he would have told me.