Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (34 page)

“My father, Darian, has always wanted to
take over Lor Mandela. He is going to use you as a distraction
while he tracks down the real Child of Balance. After he finds her,
you'll only be in the way.”

“WHAT,” Maggie yelped, jumping up from the
rock again. “You're kidding me! Get me out of here, Ryannon! You've
got to get me out of here! Your mother and your father are both
insane! They can’t just use people like this!”

Ryannon jumped up too and tried to console
her by putting his hands back on her shoulders. This time, Maggie
ducked away from him. She didn't want to be consoled; she wanted to
go home! She marched quickly across the field, away from
Ryannon.

“Maggie! I will help you however I can! I
promise,” he called after her, “but you have to make sure they
don't get receptors onto your father!”

Maggie froze in place and then slowly turned
to face him. “My dad,” she questioned. “What are you talking
about?”

Ryannon answered as he walked toward her, “I
can protect you, Maggie. My father has ordered his people not to
harm you, so I just have to keep you away from him. But your father
. . .” he took a deep breath.

“What? What about him, Ryannon?” she
barked.

He sighed and continued,
“Almost half a million soldiers have been ordered to kill
him
on
sight.”

N
athan sat at the kitchen table in a daze, cell phone in hand,
numbly dialing every one of Maggie's friends he could think
of.

“Hello . . . Charlotte? This is Nathan
Baker. Have you seen Maggie? Okay . . . thanks.”

He pushed another set of buttons.

“Hello . . . Lorrine? This is Nathan Baker.
Have you seen Maggie? Okay . . . thanks.”

Still staring blankly ahead, he pushed yet
another set of buttons.

“Hello . . . Emily? This is . . . .”

Just then, there was a loud crack, followed
by a brilliant blue flash, and quite suddenly Maggie appeared—from
out of nowhere—across the table from him.

Startled, he sprang to his feet and stumbled
backwards into the refrigerator, dropping his phone to the
floor.

“Hello . . . Hellooo . . .
Mr. Baker? Are you there?”
A muffled voice
emanated from the upside down phone.

Maggie hesitated just long enough to get her
bearings, then walked over, picked up the phone and hung up on
Emily without saying a word. Her dad was frozen in place, and
looking at her like he'd just seen a ghost.

“Dad?” She waved her hand in front of
Nathan’s eyes. “Dad, it's me . . . I'm back. Are you all
right?”

Nathan’s hair was sticking up all over the
place and his eyes were practically bulging out of the sockets. He
very calmly began, “You were right there and you just . . . you
just . . . .”

“I know,” she interrupted softly.

“Young
Lady,
” he bellowed, “I absolutely forbid
you to disappear ever again! I am a nice father . . . very few
rules . . . but this?” He collapsed back onto one of their
mismatched dining chairs, and ran his hand through his messy hair.
“I just don’t . . . I can’t . . . I . . . What am I supposed to . .
. disappearing? Three and a half hours. Three and a half!” He
buried his face in his hands, and continued ranting nonsensically,
his voice muffled, and his hair flipping back and forth as he shook
his head.

Maggie sat down on a chair next to him and
touched him gingerly on the shoulder. “Dad, I tried to tell you.
It's that whooshing noise.”

Nathan raised his head and stared blankly at
her.

“
Dad, please,” she begged.
“Something weird is happening to me.”

He responded as though he hadn't heard a
word. “I can't believe you would do this to me Maggie. It's just
not funny.”

“What,
” she roared. “What do you mean?” She couldn't believe
that
he
was
acting like the victim. “I did not do this on purpose, dad! This
isn't some sort of joke!” She slapped the top of the table angrily.
“What do you think? That I've taken up magic just to freak you
out?
”

“Okay, fine,” he retorted, his voice
escalating to match hers. “Well then, where have you been? People
just don't disappear, Maggie! They just don’t!”

“If you must know,” she blurted, jumping to
her feet, “I've been to Lor Mandela, Dad! It's another planet! Do
you hear me? I keep going to this other place! Another world . . .
Lor Mandela!” She was tired, and scared, and quite sick of trying
to explain. She was so angry that if she stayed any longer, she
knew she was either going to say something very mean, or burst into
tears. “I'm going to bed,” she shrieked with a stomp, and stormed
out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Nathan jumped up from his
chair, practically knocking it over. “Hold it just a second,” he
shouted as Maggie sprinted across the living room. “This isn't over
young lady! Get back here!” Maggie didn't hesitate in the
slightest. She ran up the stairs, skipping every other step and
sped down the hall to her room; she slammed the door shut with a
violent
bang
that
shook the walls and made Nathan flinch.

He took a deep breath and started up the
stairs. Despite his efforts to remain calm, he could feel anger and
frustration building like a bomb inside him, just waiting to
explode. By the time he reached the bedroom door and grabbed the
knob, his blood was boiling. He was just about to rip the door
clean off its hinges, when he heard Maggie sobbing on the other
side of it.

Slowly, he backed away. He hated to hear her
cry. As he stood there, staring at the crystal doorknob, listening
to his daughter's sobs, his anger began to subside. Still, for the
life of him, he couldn't understand what she was up to and why she
was making up these wild stories; but at least for now, he decided
that it would probably be in the best interest of them both to wait
until morning to pursue the matter any further.

Maggie threw herself onto
her bed, blubbering uncontrollably. It had not been her intention
to get into a fight with her dad. She'd just wanted him to believe
her, but that wasn’t the only reason she was upset. It was
Ryannon's last comment that left her completely terrified. His
father—and an entire army—were looking for her dad, just waiting to
kill him; that they were safely on Earth at the moment did little
to calm her. Ryannon's parents had been able to get
her
to Lor Mandela. It
was only a matter of time before they would be able to get her
father there too. And then what? She couldn't bear the thought of
losing him. He was more than just her dad, he was her entire
world—the only family she knew. She lay there, sobbing and panic
stricken, for nearly two hours before exhaustion finally took over
and pulled her down into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

At 6:05, the alarm blasted. She bolted
upright and hit the switch to “off” rather than pushing the snooze
button. She rubbed her eyes—which were burning and puffy from
crying—dressed quickly and hurried toward Nathan's bedroom. Part of
her didn't want to face him after the previous night's argument,
but she needed to check on him and make sure he was safe. She
cracked his door open just a little, and peered in. A twinge of
terror swept through her at the sight of his bed, which appeared to
have not been slept in. She opened the door further, and stuck her
head around it to see if his bathroom light was on. It was dark.
Quickly, she turned on her heels and darted down the hall. “Dad,”
she called out nervously. “Dad!” She was half-way down the stairs
when she crashed into him hard, nearly knocking both of them
down.

Nathan grabbed her around the shoulders.
“Whoa, where ya goin', Speedy?”

She threw her arms around him and
squeezed.

“Good Morning?” he questioned, wondering to
what he owed this outpouring of affection. “You're up early.”

Maggie finally let go. “Dad,” she began,
“I'm sorry. I didn’t . . . .”

“Shh . . . it's okay, Smaggs,” Nathan
soothed, “I mean, we wouldn't be a normal dad-slash-teenage
daughter if we didn't have a tiff now and then, would we? I think
we were both jus' tired and cranky, that's all. What say we try to
have a better day today, eh? We can talk about all this magic and
other world stuff later, okay?”

Maggie grimaced at him.
An, “
I believe you
,” or “
I should have
listened
” would have been nice—especially
after she had disappeared and reappeared in front of him—but at
least he wasn't yelling, or rehashing the whole episode, which he
did have the tendency to do from time to time, so she decided, that
at least for now, she would take what she could get and concentrate
her energies on keeping her dad away from Lor Mandela. “Okay, I’ll
try,” she finally agreed.

The two of them readied for their day, and
headed off in the usual manner—Nathan driving her to school,
dropping her off just outside the big brown double doors, and then
speeding off toward the Old Downtown district of Glenhill in his
rusty sedan with the noisy, dented door.

Maggie watched from the school steps as he
drove away and muttered a quiet, “keep him safe,” into the air. She
turned and started up the steps but didn't get far before something
she saw stopped her cold in her tracks. It was Bridgette and Holden
who were locked in a smoldering, passionate, “oblivious to the
world around them” make out session, just outside the school
doors.

“Hey! What are you trying to do,” she
shouted racing toward them. “Get expelled?” She grabbed Bridgette
by the shoulders and yanked. “Yikes you two!”

Of course, it wasn't her concern over her
best friend being reprimanded by school authorities that motivated
her to act; it was complete shock and disbelief that Bridgette
seemed to be flinging herself at this stranger-than-strange, well,
stranger.

“What are
you
doing?” Bridgette
snapped, spinning around and facing Maggie all out of breath and
flushed. “Maggie! What’s wrong with you?”

Holden chuckled. “Hey Blue! Welcome to
beautiful Glenhill High.”

Maggie shot him a look of disdain.

Holden smiled his dorky smile, flipped his
long blonde locks, and quipped, “Oh, ho, I get it!” He continued in
a hushed tone. “You ladies need to C-O-municate.”

“As a matter of fact, we do!” Maggie seethed
through clenched teeth.

Bridgette scoffed, and glared at her.

“Okay! Laters, Pretty Dude! Laters, Blue.”
He gave Bridgette a peck on the cheek, walked over to Maggie and
tousled her curls and then quickly bounded away before Maggie was
able to get a good shot at him with her clenched fist.

“What
are you doing, Maggie?” Bridgette repeated—her brown eyes
devoid of their usual sparkle.

“What do you mean,” she retorted. “You've
only known him a day and you're all over him!”

Bridgette gasped. “Well, excuse me, Miss
Morality Police! Haven't you ever heard of love at first
sight?”

“But Bridge, you hardly know him! And you
haven't even talked to me . . . your best friend about . . . .”

Bridgette cut her off
mid-sentence. “Hold it right there, Maggie! I’ve
tried
to talk to you!
But you were either too busy or off who-knows-where doing who-knows
what and worrying your poor dad and me to death! So don't even
lecture me about talking to you!” She spun around, turning her back
on Maggie. “I . . . I've got to get to class,” she
sniffled.

Maggie rolled her eyes. Bridge could never
get mad at someone without bursting into tears. “Yikes, Bridge,
wait,” she sighed realizing that she might have overstepped her
bounds just a bit. “I guess you're right. I haven't been around.
I'm sorry.”

Bridgette slowly turned to face her. “Can't
you just be happy for me,” she whined.

Maggie put her hand on Bridgette’s arm. “Of
course I'm happy for you. If you're happy, I'm happy,” she
soothed.

Bridgette locked her arm around Maggie's and
smiled. The sparkle was back. “C'mon. We’ll talk more at lunch!”
She led Maggie into the school and down the hall toward Mr. Lee's
classroom. “Gosh, it feels like we haven't seen each other for
days,” she gushed.

They reached the door and Maggie started
through it.

Bridgette peeked in around her and blew a
kiss to Holden, who was at the back of the room, leaning back in
his seat with his hands clasped behind his head.

He winked and blew one back.

“See ya, Maggs,” Bridgette beamed. “Oh, I
can't wait to hear what you were up to yesterday! You really had
your dad goin' crazy!” She flipped her silky hair with her hand and
slipped back into a crowd of students who were hurrying down the
hallway.

“Yeah, great!” Maggie moaned, “more
lies.”

“Lies, Miss Baker?” The familiar gravelly
growl of Mr. Lee's voice scraped through the air behind her. “Who
are we planning on lying to now?”

Maggie didn't want to look
at him; he really freaked her out, but slowly she turned and faced
her snarling teacher. “What? Um . . . oh, no one, Mr. Lee.” She
shivered at the mere sight of him. “It's well, uh . . . me. I'm the
one who is
being
lied to.” She tried to maintain eye contact so she would seem
believable, but it was difficult. Mr. Lee's stare was creepy and
intimidating, to say the least.

“Well, let's just hope you're not planning
on lying to me.” As usual, his scrawny mustache twitched as he
spoke. “Oh believe me. I can, and will, make things very
uncomfortable if I even have the slightest inkling that you are
being deceitful, Miss Baker.”