Wander Dust (8 page)

::10::
The Truth

Mona’s eyes meet mine. She sighs, but doesn’t answer my question right away.

“Are you all right?” she asks, her face weary.

“Headache,” I mumble.

“Let’s get you an aspirin and some liquids.”

Still in a daze, I can’t argue. She hoists me to my feet. I lean on her for balance as we walk to the kitchen. She lowers me onto a couch with pink roses on the fabric. She fluffs a pillow with an itchy fringe and props it behind my head.

She leaves to drift around the kitchen, but remains quiet as she riffles through the cabinets for pills and a glass for water. With the two in her hand, she returns to my side with a look I can’t place. Pity. Pride. I don’t understand her expressions.

After I throw the aspirin on my tongue, I chug the freezing water. At first, it shocks my system, but it warms as it fills my empty belly. My stomach gurgles.

“Hungry?” she asks, stroking my aching forehead.

“A little.”

She jumps up and runs to inspect the pantry and refrigerator. She’s in no rush to supply answers, which I’m okay with for the moment. I lean back onto the pillow, allowing my body to relax into the fluff.

A huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, like the weight of the world. No, bigger—the weight the universe. Maybe because, to some degree, my secret is finally out? Maybe because my secret is possibly Mona’s secret, as well? And maybe, most importantly, because it’s proof that I’m not going insane. Mona saw what Terease did to me, and that fact makes it real.
The Lady in Black is real.

Mona returns with a plate arranged with a hodgepodge of finger foods. She doesn’t actually cook—ever. I think it’s because she never has had anyone to take care of: no kids, no husband. When I ask her about her unnatural love of appetizers, she merely claims, “The most delicious flavors are the simplest ones.” And then again with some thought, “Cooking takes too long. I’d rather read or attend to my arts and crafts.” She laughs very loudly at herself.

A medley of roasted peppers, olives, crostini bread, mozzarella, and tomatoes sit on the hand-painted dish before me. Italian seems to be the theme tonight.

“Isn’t this plate lovely? I bought it in Sicily on one of my painting excursions.”

“Love-ly, dar-ling,” I say mimicking her rich, sophisticated voice and flinging my hand in the air.

“Oh, stop it, Seraphina!” She smacks me lightly on the arm. “Feeling well enough to make fun of me?”

“Yeah. I guess. I’m just glad she’s gone.” The word “she” hangs in the air for a moment as we both remember the tense encounter.

Mona clears her throat. “Yes, well, I’m very sorry about that. I very much wanted to tell you everything, but it’s forbidden.”

I stop chewing and stare, eyes wide for a moment, and then speak, “You can’t tell me
anything?
” The words escape in a squeak. “You’re kidding—right?
” T
he thought of still not having any answers leaves a dry lump in my throat.

“I mean,
before
. Before we knew whether you had wandered or not. I would have been forbidden from discussing it with you. It’s the one rule I disagree with. I believe guardians should be able to tell their children, so they know that change may be coming. And when and
if
it does, they can embrace it, instead on being scared.”

“I’m not scared,” I correct her abruptly.

“No,
of course
you’re not.” She looks as though she isn’t buying it. “I just mean that it really makes for a stressful beginning when a young person first experiences their gifts. I remember,” she pauses, looking at her hands twisting in her lap, “I thought I was going nutter.” Then she smiles, “But enough of that. You have wandered, haven’t you?” Her eyes search mine.

“I think I have, but—” I think for a second, “I’m really confused.”

She drops everything and hugs me. Tears well from her eyes. “Yes, I know. This is exactly what I mean. It’s very confusing. I remember.”

“Who is she, Mona?”

“Terease?”

“Ah-huh.” I place an olive in my mouth.

“Well—she’s one of my oldest friends. We met at Washington Square Academy. She, your mother, and I attended together.”

Now she has my full attention. I see her face registering my interest. “We attended your school and then the east school. The one that mirror’s yours,” she continues.

“The boarding school?”

“Yes, exactly.” She smiles. “But it’s a different kind of boarding school—a special one. One for those with gifts and abilities not known to the rest of society.” She looks at me seriously and places her hand on mine.

“Sera, you must promise to keep everything I disclose a secret.” I start to talk but she hushes me by holding up her palm. “A secret from your father and all of your friends—especially your new friends at school,” she says.

“Um—I guess,” I answer.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” I say with more assurance.

“Okay then, Terease is what we call a Harvester. It’s her unique gift and job, of sorts. She travels all over the world searching the minds of Wanderer’s descendants to see if they were passed the gift.”

“She travels around hurting children?” I shoot up from my seat, angry at the thought of that crazed lady running around, hunting innocent people.

“No. Sit.” She gives me a stern look, and I do as she asks. “You’re the exception to her harvesting. She has never encountered a young person whose thoughts she couldn’t search. She’s merely peeking into their minds to sense their abilities and nothing more. Normally, it’s very easily done without their knowledge.”

“But in Miami, I felt her searching, looking for something. She burned my mind with her eyes, Mona.” I look at her with intensity, hoping there’s some way for her to see the pain in my eyes, but of course she can’t.

“Perhaps, but she couldn’t acquire the information she needed. Somehow you blocked her.”

“But why does she try to hurt me?”

“I’m afraid, it seems, she derives a bit of pleasure in knowing she can affect someone. Her abilities are normally passive.”

“Great!” I announce facetiously. “It figures I would have to be the lucky one!”

“Well, the good news is that since you’ve wandered, she hopefully won’t have any need to bother you ever again.” She smiles, but I take note of the carefully chosen word,
hopefully.
Terease is crazy with a capital C. And I don’t mind if I never see that woman again.

“Ray doesn’t know?”

“No, definitely not. You were passed the gift from Eliza.”

“And what is the gift, exactly?”

“It’s different for everyone, but in your case, I suspect, you have the ability to time travel as Eliza did. It’s common to pass down similar abilities.”

“Time travel?” I swallow hard. I didn’t expect to hear those words. Although, I really don’t know what explanation I expected.

“Yes. Some science fiction books call it jumping, but in the real world it’s called wandering,” she explains.

I sit for a moment, trying to compute the new information. The thought is ludicrous to me. It’s like a science-fiction movie or a comic book. “Are you really serious, Mona? You know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

“I know it’s going to feel very surreal, but once we switch you to the other school, you will understand the full weight of your gift.”

“The other school? I’m switching schools
again
?” My voice flares with an attitude that seems to take Mona by surprise.

“I promise, you will absolutely love it.” She rubs my back.

“Are you going to make me live there?” I fold my arms across my chest.

“I won’t make you, but I suspect that after you see it for yourself you will change your mind.”

“I really, really doubt it.”

She laughs loudly. “Okay—well—we’ll see.” She throws her arms around me. Her hug disarms my bad mood, and I hug her back.

“You said you attended with Mom. So you—um—wander also?”

“No, I have a different gift. The gift of sight. I’m a Seer.” She pauses with some thought, and then mumbles, “but the skill doesn’t work well anymore. That’s a long story, for another day.”

“Ah Seer? Sounds lame,” I say, making fun.

“Definitely not as fabulous as wandering, but it’s still wonderful, I assure you.” She smiles, grabs a piece of bread and dabs it into a saucer of olive oil.

“So, wait a second. I
f T
erease would’ve seen my gift back in Miami, how would you have gotten Ray to let me come to Chicago for school?”

“I worked on Ray for quite a while. Apparently, you both had a bad day back in the fall, and he finally called me that night and gave in. Even if you didn’t have the gift, it still would have been a great opportunity for you to attend the west Academy. Even if it was merely to have some stability. I hate that he’s moved you around so much. The west Academy is still a wonderful school on its own.”

“That was the day it happened. I mean, the first time I wandered—the day Ray took me to the ER.” I replay the memory in my mind like a movie. It doesn’t seem possible for the earth to move the way it has, but I’ve seen it for myself, several times now.

“Where did you go?” She grabs my hand in hers again. It feels warm and secure.

“To the Academy,” I pause, “about twenty years ago—I think. I’m not even sure what happened. I was really freaked out—ya know?”

“Twenty years? That’s remarkable. That’s not normally possible for one so young.”

“Well, I can’t be sure—just guessing. It’s not like I ran up and asked someone the date.” I thought back to the day. “How did I even get there?” I ask.

“The portal is opened by three things, the Wanderer, a relic, and a keyword you hold in your mind.” She taps her head. “The energy from the relic you are holding, mixed with your concentrated thoughts of the keyword, will send you back in time, specifically to when the keyword and the relic crossed paths,” she explains.

“I was running.”

“Yes, that’s typical. You will learn to control your gift so you won’t fly off into the unknown. It’s the reason you need to go to a school dedicated to the studies of wandering. It’s a brilliant gift that should be used wisely.”

“I was putting on Mom’s bracelet.” I realize when I say the words that my mom could have been in that courtyard—somewhere. “Oh—my—I could have seen Mom! Oh, Mona, if I had only known! I could have found her and talked to her!” Tears instantly drip from my eyes, and my nose burns. I cannot stop the waterworks now. I’m too emotional at the thought, the possibilities.

“It’s better that you didn’t interact with her. She may not have known at that point that she was a Wanderer. You could have changed history.”

I don’t care. I cry louder and drop my head onto her shoulder. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me tight. She strokes my hair, comforting me.

“Seraphina, it’s possible that you may see her in the future, but only after you have been properly trained.”

I breathe deeply and pull away from her. “It’s just—just knowing I was so close—ya know?” I wipe my tears away with my sleeve. Mona hands me a tissue, and I blow my nose.

“Yes, I know. Think of it this way—your mom left you a wonderful gift, and I think you should learn to use it properly. You will find her again, I promise.”

I nod, then I stifle the forthcoming sob and tuck my hair behind my ears. I want to believe every word she says about seeing my mom again.

“So, what now? It’s like I’m some kind of
freak
or something.”

“Oh, yes. You’re the best kind of freak!”

We both laugh, and I rub away the dampness under my eyes with my fingers.

“You should get some sleep,” she says, looking at her watch. “Try to rest. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m taking you to school—your new school.”

::11::
Fireflies

I’m lying in bed, restless, waiting for the moment when my new identity will sink in and, more importantly, stay there. My thoughts whirl around the fact that it might be possible to see my mom again. I’m edgy and can’t stay still. I roll from one position to another, pulling the sheet with me each time. Finally, I throw the sheet on the floor then throw my face into a pillow.

My mind won’t stop racing. Multiple scenarios play over and over. If only I had Mom’s bracelet, I could go back and find her now.

After several hours, the only thing I know for certain is that I’ve made a promise to myself to save my mom from the car accident that killed her.
No matter what.

I have endless questions for which I have no answers. They repeatedly scroll through my mind. Where did wandering originate? How did Mom keep it from Ray? Who are the others on my list of weird? Wanderers too? How does British Stalker Boy play into this? Will I see him again? My heart races at the thought. I hope, in the days to come, I will find answers.
All the answers.

Even though I’ve experienced wandering for myself, I still find the concept difficult to believe. I can’t say the instances themselves feel like dreams because they’re real—real life, to be exact. They could be just another part of my day. The unreal, dream-like parts are the in-between, morphing between two time changes, dark limbo wrapping around my body and catapulting me through space—that will take some getting used to.

My aimless examining tires me to the point that I can no longer think. Finally, I shut down and succumb to a deep slumber.

I find myself in the most glorious dream. It’s night, not a cloud in the sky. A zillion stars trail across the far reaches of the heavens. They kiss the edges of each horizon.

The cool, dry landscape of undulating earth sits void of any human structure. Hearing a rustle in the light breeze, I turn. A field, as far as I can see, stretches behind me. When I turn and step forward, my foot presses upon cool sand. Grains sift between my toes. I look to my left and then right. I’m standing on the line between contrasting environments: a field and a desert. I can’t help thinking that one is my past and one is future.

I inhale a large breath. My nostrils flare, pulling in the scent of mint. The breeze swirls around my white cotton dress, billowing in the breeze. I smooth it down flat with my palms onto my bare legs.

Farther away, an alluring light grows from the under reaches of a long trench. Its beams dance around and spread far into the sky like the Northern Lights. They’re beautiful, glowing in yellows and greens. Fascinated, I walk on to look closer.

Crickets chirp at my bare feet. Dry plants scrape my ankles. These details reminds me that this is a dream because if I were awake, I know that walking barefoot through nature would bother me, but here it doesn’t. It feels natural, like something I’ve done a million times before.

The long trench makes me wonder what could be making the magnificent lighting display. I have to know, so I walk closer to the edge of the cliff. I stop, remembering I’m afraid of heights. Looking over means that I will have to look over the edge and down into the canyon. Uncomfortable tingles race up my arms.

I want to see more, but I can’t. I’m too scared. Finally, I talk myself into taking baby steps. Closer and closer, inch by inch, my heart and breathing tighten. I can do this. I want to see more. Then I hold my breath. I imagine my toes curling over the edge. Tingles shoot down my legs with anxiety, and I close my eyes for a moment. I inhale deeply and reason with myself.
The spot where I stand now is no different than ten paces ago.

Finally, when I look down into the trench, my vision is overtaken by a haze of intense light as blinding as the sun. The light cools as my eyes adapt. The trench is long but only a few feet deep. I chuckle at my stupidity. I had imagined it as deep as the Grand Canyon. I always make things worse than they really are. When I’m brave enough to face my fears, they’re never as bad as I imagine.

As I step down into the trench, the light ripples away like water. It’s not just one source of light, but millions that make the whole, many acting as one.

Kneeling down, I touch the light again, but the illuminated beings recoil. They lift into the air and swirl around my body, separating into a million little lights. Raising my arms into the sky, I feel them. Fireflies skim the edges of my skin as they envelop me in a vortex of shimmering sparkles. They surge off into the night sky, melding with the stars.
Beautiful. A million fireflies. A million beautiful possibilities.

•

“Seraphina!”

I’m already on my way down the stairs when Mona calls for me. Because I’m so tired, I don’t respond. Instead of yelling back, I just stomp down the final staircase to alarm her of my arrival. Yelling might make my headache worse.

“Didn’t you sleep well?” she asks when she sees me at the top of the stairs.

“What gave it away? The huge purple bags under my eyes, or the fact that you informed me that I can time travel?” My hand slides down the banister with each step. “Just so you know, that information isn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep.” I smile weakly.

“Sorry. It didn’t go exactly as planned, but I suppose it never really does.” She forces a smile. The edges of her mouth crinkle into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” She looks away for a moment before she speaks again. “It’s silly, really. It’s just you’re growing up so fast!” Mona starts to tear and gives me a big hug when I reach the bottom steps.

“Mona, you’re acting like I’m going on my first date or something.” Really, she’s acting like a real mom.

“I know. You’re right. I guess I’m a little emotional. In our world, it’s a coming of age thing. I only wish Eliza was here to share it with you.” She gives me another long hug.

I don’t respond, but of course I wish the same. I wonder if Mona’s reaction would have been Mom’s? I hope so. The thought makes me happy.

My mind flutters with dreams of a life with the woman I never had a chance to know, but I push them back, trying to control my emotions. I can’t go down that road of thought
again. I spent the entire night thinking about her. That’s why I’m so exhausted... and too hyper. I might break out in manic laughter or tears. I’m an emotional basket case waiting to explode.

Mona pats me on the back. “Are you ready?” she asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I mash my lips together. I’m eager to get the day started.

Déjà vu hits me when we reach the Academy. I’ll be starting a new school—again. The campus, as before, is carpeted with wind-swept snow. This time, a lifeless courtyard sits before us. It’s 7:30am on Saturday, after-all. Most every one of my new friends is still nestled in their beds, sleeping.

When we reach the stairs to the main entrance they’re perfectly clear of ice and snow. Each crevice is scraped clean. The building is a stately and beautiful replica of the west building. The inscription above the columns reads, TEMPUS RERUM IMPERATOR. I don’t know what the Latin words say, but it gives me a wave of unease. I’m reminded of the seriousness of my new situation: I have no idea what it really means to be a Wanderer. My stomach turns.
Focus Sera. Just think about Mom.

When we reach the top of the stairs, Mona places her thumb on a recognition pad next to the front door.

“Seriously? They make you scan your thumbprint to get in?”

“Yes, of course. We just can’t allow anyone to enter.”

The door beeps approval. Together, we push the ornate door open and enter a vestibule. We continue through another set of doors and into the main lobby

I’m not sure why I assumed that this building’s interior would be the same as the west building’s. Maybe it seemed a reasonable prediction on my part, but I should have realized that nothing from now on would be—well—predictable.

The room is open and airy to the ceiling. Soft light from the early morning trickles in just enough to make silhouettes out of every object before us. My eyes lock on the ceiling where a glass dome and elongated archway dominate the entire space.

It’s so similar to the Galleria Umberto in Naples, Italy, that I can’t look away. Ray and I took a short weekend trip to Naples when we lived in Rome. For hours, I lingered in the shopping arcade, snapping photos of every possible architectural angle, yet never truly capturing the beauty.

I exhale, in total awe of its elegance.

Two birds playfully flutter in the dome above. They swoop to the bottom of the room then rest on two sweeping staircases. Statues of women, with baskets sitting at their feet, guard the steps that lead to several levels of arched windows and terraces.

Mona grabs my arm and pulls me forward into the room. Our steps echo. The acoustics are so incredible that I suspect that if I whispered something to her it would easily be heard on the top floor.

Nylon wheels rolling across the room captures my attention. Their rotation reverberates through the hallowed out space. A silhouette of a boy on a skateboard heads toward us from a distant corner. When he kicks up his board in front of us, I recognize him immediately from Macey’s description—Quinn Hayes. She’ll be so devastated when she finds out he won’t be in biology class anymore. I hope it might help Xavier’s cause, at the very least.

“Hey, Ms. Mona.” He pushes back his blonde dreads and leans on his board. It’s not like any skateboard I’ve ever seen. The three-wheel design looks like an old, funky spaceship with cogs and pipes.

“Quinn.” Mona nods her head. “How are you adjusting?” she asks him.

“Dude, I mean, Ms. Mona, it’s awesome!”

“This is Seraphina, my niece.” Mona gestures toward me.

“Just, Sera.” I wave my hand in an arch.

“Hey,
just
Sera.” His smile is brilliant against his bronzed skin, and I immediately understand Macey’s attraction. He looks back at Mona. “Gabe sent me down to ask you to wait in the study. He’s running late.” Quinn points to a room off to the right.

Mona thanks him. He hops on his board. With two quick shoves from his free foot, he rolls away, melding, once again, into a silhouette. “Later!” he yells back over his shoulder.

We sit quietly in the study for a while. “Sorry, Gabe always feels like he has to make an entrance. I’m sure that’s why he is keeping us,” she explains.

“Why would he do that?”

“Doesn’t everyone love an audience?” a man announces, as he appears at the door. He laughs as he approaches Mona and gives her two air kisses. “Don’t you think my Mona Lisa?” he asks her.

“Oh, most definitely,” she says. Together they turn toward me. “Gabe, this is my niece, Seraphina,” she says.

“Seraphina. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Gabe, the Activities Director,” he says shaking my hand.

I look at Mona then back at Gabe. I size him up. His elaborate outfit looks like something from a runway show in New York. You know, the kind of outfit where you ask yourself, “Who would ever wear such a thing?” I definitely have my answer.

“I plan parties, outings, and many other activities for the students. It’s my job to make sure everyone is having a fabulous time!” he explains with a flip of his hand.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes! You’re absolutely going to love it here. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Follow me,” he says then bounces off around the corner.

When we catch up with him, he’s primping in a nearby mirror, crunching his light yellow curls. He swings around to face us. “Sorry, just a maintenance check.”

He clasps his hands together, signaling the beginning of our tour. “Here you see we have a beautiful indoor pool.” He gestures toward the atrium.

The glass archway from the lobby extends into a T shape behind the building. The pool, shimmering in morning light, sits against a wall of glass with iron details.

Gabe’s hands flutter toward the ceiling. “It’s lovely because this space is absolutely fabulous for parties—which, I, of course, am in charge of.” He smiles his perfect, gleaming white smile and continues, “in fact, there’s a soirée this evening for all the students to mingle. You must attend, Seraphina,” he says and grabs my hands in his.

“Um—definitely.” I say as I look at Mona for permission and she nods, yes. “Cool.”

“Now, first things first,” he looks at his watch, “you’re due to meet with the big cheese—five minutes ago,” he says and quickly takes off through a series of halls.

As we follow him, I’m careful to take in my surroundings. Gold nameplates mark the owners of faculty offices. We pass a glass wall with a hundred TVs behind it. Visibly, it’s some kind of security room. Compound is the word that comes to mind. No matter the building’s beauty, I feel some unease.
Should I be skeptical of this place?

Gabe pushes through a set of carved doors at the end of the hall. Anxious, I follow closely behind.