You're A What?

 

Chapter One

 

“I found him!” I exclaim happily, earning me several dirty looks from other library-goers. I smile at them, too happy to care, and turn back to the computer screen. Bruce Matthews, age 41, single, lives at 136 Surf Drive. In a small town named Chance, which, according to this website, is located on the beach. Nice.

And, since I’m in Arizona as of now, and Chance is in California, it works out perfectly. I’ll drive to Chance, California and make it there before nightfall. Or maybe, you know, somewhere around nightfall. Nonetheless, I’ll get there. And I’ll find Bruce Matthews, that’s what is really important.

Now, if you’re asking yourself how I can possibly know that this Bruce Matthews is the Bruce Matthews that I’m looking for, don’t worry. I’ll explain it.

You see, I know what he looks like. Which would be weird, except for the fact that he used to work for the Company, and the Company has a website. A website that, unless you’re a Talent you would a) never know about, and b) never be able to get into. Anyway, on the Company’s website there is a page dedicated to their staff. Cute, right? I didn’t think so.

Until, of course, it ends up I actually need that staff page, filled with the names and pictures of everyone who has and does work for the Company.

Naturally though, the handy-dandy staff page doesn’t include where these people live. That, of course, was totally up to me to find out.

But, because I’m a genius, I have finally figured out where Mr. Bruce Matthews lives. California, here I come.

I get in my new-old car. Okay, cue the questions. This is probably you right now: what the fill-in-the-blank-with-word-of-your-choice is a new-old car?

Well, first of all, I sold my old car. I don’t know if the Company would be tracking me down via car, but I don’t really want to take any chances. So I bought a new car. Which is stupid, in hindsight, because can’t they track that car down, too? Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Especially not at three in the morning when I leave my boyfriend and his family because I’m bound to screw up their lives. By, you know, killing them. Accidently, of course. But still.

So, anyway, after all of that, I was obviously an emotional mess and not thinking too clearly, so I bought a new car.

And for all you people thinking “why waste the money?” well, like I said, I wasn’t thinking too clearly. Plus, I sold my old car so I had some cash for my new one.

And my new car? It’s not new. It’s old, and beaten-up—a yellow Jeep that has definitely seen better days.

So when I say my new-old car, I mean “new” in terms of I-just-bought-it, and old in terms of its….quality. Am I confusing you yet? Thought so.

Anyway, I hop into my old Jeep and turn it on, unfolding the maps I had printed off (thanks MapQuest!), and start driving. I get onto the highway and drive down endless roads, and after endless hours, I end up at IHOP.

I know, I know. IHOP? But I’ve been driving for hours, and if I’m being honest, I’m starving. I couldn’t eat a horse (ew) but I am pretty hungry.

So I sit in a booth alone in IHOP which, by the way, is as lonely as it looks, and order an omelet and pancakes. My waitress, a college-aged girl with her red hair piled up high on her head, brings my food over. She sets down the plates in front of me and rubs her eyes tiredly, so I glance at the clock. And it hits me why she’s so tired—its 3:24AM.

I smile at the waitress, whose name according to her nametag is Terri and I pick up a sugar packet. She hovers around, like she’s about to say something, but then ends up just watching my pour multiple sugar packets into my mouth. She looks slightly disgusted, slightly curious. I smile again.

“It’s three in the morning. I need to get energy somehow.” I explain. Terri smiles back, but weakly. I pick up another sugar packet and toss it at her. She catches it and eyes it warily.

“Bikini season is coming up.” She tells me, as if this means something to me. Like I’m the type of girl that worries about my weight around bikini season.

“Isn’t every season bikini season in California?” I ask her, raising my eyebrows. She shrugs, ripping the sugar packet and pouring the contents into her mouth. She eyes me warily as the sugar goes down.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Terri says. I smile.

“Wait until you get the sugar high.” I tell her and she chuckles. Then she looks at me sharply.

“Why are you here by yourself?” She asks, curious and slightly suspicious. As if someone is going to pop up from under the table and scare her. I shrug.

“Road trip.” I say, like that explains why I’m by myself.

Terri nods. “You must have a boyfriend.” She says, like it’s expected. I take a bite of my pancakes and almost feint from the pain that statement ensues.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I pull out my wallet from my purse and give her some money. I’m very careful not to put it in her hands or anything, but instead I set the bills on the table and push it toward her.

“Thanks.” She says, and eyes me suspiciously again. I nod curtly, my friendliness gone.

I eat quickly, and then walk into their bathroom. I splash water on my face and calm my breathing, trying to forget Terri’s statement. You must have a boyfriend.

I take deep breaths, looking at myself in the mirror. I look tired, worn. My wavy hair is limp, no longer full of body, and it lays lifeless, rolling down my back. My usually bright hazel eyes are cold and distant, the color dull. I rub dirt off of my cheekbone, and am slightly pleased to find that my creamy beige skin is still smooth and unblemished. I sigh, pulling out a chap stick, and rubbing it over my cracked lips.

In my high school, I used to be so envied for my bubbly personality and okay, for my looks. I used to be pretty. I’m not conceited, but I’m not naive either. I used to be pretty, and full of life. Now? I’m broken. I look broken. The only thing I have now is memories of my old life. Memories of Chase, of my parents.

Glaring at the mirror, I feel my anger boil up.

Why did Rueben (the guy from the Company) have to turn me into a killing machine? Why did he have to further ruin my life, more than he already has? Why—why—does he continue to take everything away from me that I love?

I don’t deserve this.

Turning on the mirror, I stalk out of the bathroom, walking past Terri, who looks startled at my angry face. I continue walking until I’m out of IHOP, and I get into my car, slamming the door behind me. I crank the engine and get onto the highway as quickly as I can, pushing down on the gas pedal, going faster, faster.

Why did Rueben need to ruin my life—to ruin me? I could’ve been happy. I was trying to be happy. After my parents died, my life was over. That’s what it felt like, anyway. The Davenports are the only reason I got through it—Chase especially. Chase was the one who held me until I cried myself to sleep each night after the news of my parent’s murder. He was the one that made me promise him I would make myself better—that I would get through that rough time in my life.

And now, none of it matters. Because I broke that promise to Chase. I’m not getting better. I’m getting worse.

I speed up more, pushing the car faster and faster. Anger boils up inside of me and when I see fleetingly, an empty parking lot, with what looks to be a gang, something inside of me clicks.

I slow my car, and take the next exit, pulling into an empty outlet mall, and inching my car slowly into the old parking lot where I had fleetingly seen the gang. I now see that the “gang” consists of four tough-looking guys all dressed in loose black clothing. Standing alone and scared is a girl, who looks to be younger than me, around thirteen or so. Her stringy blonde hair sticks to her face with sweat, probably out of fear. I inch my car closer to the five of them. The four guys look up at me, and the biggest one—the leader—squints at my car as I get out. I narrow my eyes at him, sizing him up.

The younger girl looks at me, half scared-half hopeful, and I can see her quivering. I jerk my head towards my car, motioning for her to get in. She looks so scared; I’m not surprised when she doesn’t move an inch.

I sigh. “Maybe you better get back in your car, missy.” The biggest guy says. I raise my eyebrows.

“Maybe you better leave this girl alone, then.” I reply, taking a half-step closer to them. I motion again for the girl to get in my car, and she takes a nervous step in my direction. Immediately, one of the guys—the shortest one—grabs her wrist and she squeals.

I look around the empty parking lot. What where they going to do to her? What if I hadn’t showed up? Nobody would hear her scream for help. Nobody would stop them.

The biggest guy takes a step towards me threateningly. I roll my eyes.

“Fine. We’ll take you too, then.” He says, a sick smile on his face. I laugh drily.

“I dare you.” I say, raising a single eyebrow, a teasing smile on my face. He clenches his teeth, and takes a few steps towards me, closing the space in between us, getting close to my face. His breath is hot on my face, but I don’t step away. He’s just a human. A stupid, criminal human. He’s nothing against me.

He looks me up and down, licking his lips. I ignore him, looking over his shoulder to the girl. She looks terrified. Anger boils up in me again.

I look at the guy in front of me, smiling.

“You’re not going to want to lay a finger on me.” I tell him, pretty convincingly. He grins.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” He says, licking his lips again. I continue smiling.

I hold up a finger, wagging it at him. “I’m not playing your little game.” I tell him.

He grins sickly. “You will.”

I snort, and turn my hand palm up, my finger curling in towards me in a “come get me” gesture. The guys eyes flash angrily and he takes the final step towards me, pulling back a fist to punch me, I assume. I let his fist connect with the side of my face, welcoming the pain.

I then watch as he crumbles in front of me, like a shirt being thrown to the floor. I nudge him with my foot, and then lean down, listening for a pulse. He’s still alive, I can tell, but barely. I’m not positive, but since he touched me, I’m fairly certain he won’t die. Which makes sense. If I touched him, he’d be completely and utterly dead. But since it’s the other way around, he’s still alive. But barely.

I get up, stretching my legs, and turn to the three guys standing with the younger girl. I sigh.

“Well, come on then.” I say, gesturing for them to try and detain me as I stalk towards them. One of them throws a fist into my stomach, and I keel over, welcoming the pain—and anger—once again.

I then watch him crumple in front of me, and I check to see if he’s alive too. He is. Barely.

I turn toward the other two guys. “Hit me with your best shot…” I sing under my breath, loud enough for them to hear. One guy angrily comes at me, pulling back his fist, and I connecting it with the same side of my face that his “leader” got me on. I roll my eyes at their predictability. The next guy, the last guy, rushes at me as his friend crumples to the ground. He, however, dares to be different, and knees me—hard—in the side. I smile through the pain, catch my breath, and watch him too crumple to the ground, unconscious.

I sigh and turn towards the girl, us being the only two standing.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to get in my car, but when these guys regain consciousness I think it’d probably be best if you weren’t around.” I tell her, and with that, turn towards my car. I’ve only taken a few steps in its direction when I hear her walking next to me, following me to my car. I smile.

We both get in my car and I turn towards her. “Did they hurt you?” I ask her. She wipes a tear from her eye away and shakes her head.

“No. T-they would’ve…but you…showed up-p…and…and…” She stutters, completely breaking down on me. I nod.

“Tell me where you live, okay? And I’ll take you home. You’re safe now.” I tell her, turning the AC on in the car. She nods and takes a deep breath, giving me directions to her house.

We drive in silence for a few minutes and then, “thank you.” I hear.

I glance over at her, small and skinny, scared, slumped on the passenger’s seat. I nod at her.

“Don’t mention it.”

She does mention it though. “What happened back there…when those guys fell to the ground and…and…” she stops, regains her composure. “How did you do that?”

I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead of me, feeling my jaw tightening.

“I didn’t do anything.” I say, dismissing it. She hears the tone in my voice and nods, not questioning me anymore except to ask my name.

“Skye.” I tell her, after debating on whether or not to tell her my name.

She smiles weakly. “That’s an awesome name. My parents like, hated me at birth or something and named me Maggie, just like those characters in all those old books. Your name is original, and pretty. And Maggie is just…plain.” She says in a gush. I blink. The girl can talk.

I smile softly. “I like Maggie. It’s feminine, and unpretentious.” I tell her, and her whole face lights up.

“Your, like, really gorgeous.” She tells me. I look over at her, trying not to laugh.

When I see her face completely composed I can’t help but look confused.

“What, you’re serious?” I ask her. She nods, eyes wide.

“Yeah. If you went to my high school, you would totally be popular. And like, you’d probably have all these boyfriends, and model agencies calling you.” She sighs, looking wistful, and then turns to me excitedly. “Wait, are you a model? I’ve always wanted to meet a model!”

I blink, surprised with her sudden mood swing. “I’m not a model.” I tell her, smiling despite myself. “And I’m sure guys are banging down your door.”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. Actually, I don’t even talk to guys, I’m too nervous. Maybe you can like, give me pointers. I’m sure you have a lot of tips and like, you could maybe give me a makeover? Or wave my hair like yours, or something?” She rambles on. “And maybe you could teach me how to do my makeup! That would be like, so beyond awesome. Turn left here. And then I can tell my friends about how you totally saved my life when you didn’t even know me. They will love you.” She takes a breath and I glance over at her, hiding a smile.

“Do you always talk this much?” I ask her. She blinks innocently, smiling.

“Yeah, mostly. Turn right here and then go straight.” I follow her directions and slow when I see a sign that says Welcome to Chance, California!

My heart jumps. Is this a trap? Does she work for the Company?

“Maggie? I ask her, and she blinks up at me in response.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know someone named Bruce Matthews?” I ask her, hopefully. I mean, this is a really, really small town. Odds are, if he still lives here, she knows him.

Maggie snorts. “He’s my dad. Why, are you going to tell on me?” Her face grows still, serious. I shake my head.

“No, I just…I know your dad. Well, okay. Not really. I just…I’ve heard of him.” I look at Maggie’s confused face.

“My dad’s a fisherman. No offense to him, but nobody’s heard of him.” She says.

I sigh. “My parents worked with him at the company he used to work for.” I lie. Maggie believes me.

“Oh! Okay, cool. So, maybe you can like, cool down my dad when you drop me off? ‘Cause he’s going to be like, so pissed at me. It’s four in the morning. Oh, crap. I am so, so dead. And you know what? Maybe I deserve it. I don’t know.”

She pauses and I nod. “Yeah, I can talk to him. Turn right up here?” I ask, and Maggie nods. I drive through the small town of Chance, giggling at the cheesy signs that say things like “Take a chance in Chance!” and “One last chance, while you’re in Chance!” I can see the ocean not far the few houses I pass.

I then pass what I guess is their main street, which consists of small shops and restaurants until I get to a beat-up beach house, that is really endearing.

I smile as Maggie tells me to stop in front of it. She turns to me as I turn off the car.

“Okay, let’s go.” She says, smiling at me and hopping out of the car.

I climb out of my car, appreciating the salty smell of the air, and the irony of the situation I’m in. As we walk toward the front door, Maggie reaches to grab my hand. I pull my hand away quickly, my heartbeat quickening. Maggie looks offended for about two point oh seconds and then her face quickly turns to one of remorse. I’m about to apologize when I see her looking at something—someone.

I follow her eyes and find myself looking at Bruce Matthews—the very man I have been looking for, for weeks.

He squints at me, as if unsure why I’m with his daughter, and then his face floods with relief as he sees Maggie, safe and sound, beside me. I’m careful not to walk to close to Maggie as she races up to Bruce and throws her arms around him for a hug.

“I am so, so, so, so sorry!” She keeps repeating to him. He wraps his own arms around her and nods, and it reminds me of the time I came home past curfew to my very worried parents, and had my own dad wrap his comforting arms around me. I feel my eyes fill with tears so I look up, blinking them away.

And then I feel Bruce’s eyes on me. “Who’s this?” He asks Maggie. She beams at me, standing next to her dad with his arms on her shoulder. My eyes zero in on his arm touching her shoulder. He’s an Extinguisher—that should be killing her! But of course, this man, this ol’ Brucey, holds the secrets to controlling his—our—Talent.

I smile weakly, resuming back to reality. “Skye Dawson.” I say.

I see Bruce’s face change quickly, as it finds a guarded expression. “Baby, go inside.” He says to Maggie. She blinks, confused, but then nods, waving at me before going inside their beach house.

He turns to me. “Who are you?” He asks me.

“Your daughter was at my sister’s house and wasn’t feeling well so I offered to drive her home.” I explain, making it up on the spot, unsure of where I’m going with this lie.

“You’re lying.” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes at me. I look at him—the man that I was looking for—the man who is supposed to help me change my life.

His face is rugged, rough, and tan from the sun. He has laugh lines around his eyes and short blonde hair. He’s medium height and build, a normal looking, middle aged person. I would never guess him to be a killer. But who knows, maybe in the twenty something years he’s had this Talent he’s never killed somebody. As horrible as it sounds, that’d be miraculous.

“Yeah, okay, you caught me. I’m lying.” I say, my breath coming out in a whoosh. “The truth?” I ask him. Bruce nods curtly.

I sigh and give him what he asked for. “I’m an Extinguisher.” I say quietly, hoping Maggie isn’t being a typical teenager and listening in on our conversation. If I were her, I so would be.

I don’t know what I expected, Bruce to welcome me into his house with open arms, to offer up advice and consultation. But what happened was this: nothing. Bruce showed no sign of recognized I said anything.

“You’re a what?” He asks me calmly. I roll my eyes at his little innocent façade.

“An Extinguisher. Rueben, from the Company, turned me into one. Apparently that’s his Talent. Which, if you ask me, is totally lame. But of course…you didn’t ask me, so whatever. Anyway, yeah. I’m an Extinguisher. And Rueben and the Company have taken everything I love away from me. They killed my parents, and now, because I have no idea how to control this so-called Talent, I had to leave the only people who actually care about me.” I pause, looking at Bruce.

He’s dropped the façade, I can tell. No way could I be lying about all of this. I know way too much.

“If all that is true…” Bruce pauses, squinting at me. “Then why are you here?”

I shrug, yawning. “I was hoping you could become me mentor.” I say, giving him a half-comical, half-hopeful smile. His forehead wrinkles in sudden comprehension.

“You want me to teach you how to live with this Talent.” He says. I grin.

“Exactly! I knew you’d understand.” I joke, because it’s obvious he doesn’t want to do it.

Bruce runs a hand through his short blonde hair. “I assume you have your belongings with you?”

I grin again. “Why, of course.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at me, and I can tell we’re going to get along. I can always tell those things. Well, okay, no I can’t. But still.

“Get your stuff, you can stay here tonight.” He says briskly. I nod, unsure, but still smiling.

“Thanks, Mr. Matthews.” I say, walking to my Jeep and grabbing my suitcases, pulling them back to the beach house. Bruce holds his hand out, grabbing one of my suitcases from me. As reflex, I flinch away from his hand—from any physical contact—and he notices. Quietly, Bruce places his hand on my forearm. Nothing happens.

Literally nothing happens. No sudden death, no comatose, no anything. I look up, happy. Ecstatic.

“See, your teaching me already!” I say, grinning. Bruce chuckles.

“I haven’t taught you anything. And I haven’t agreed to teach you anything either. I just said you can stay here tonight. It’s the least I can do for your kind act of bringing home my sick daughter from her sleepover with your imaginary sister.” Bruce jokes.

I snort. “Yeah, about that…” And Bruce laughs.

“Hey, Mr. Matthews?” I ask, as we walk up the stairs in his house.

“Bruce.” He says, correcting me. I smile.

“Okay, Bruce?” I ask. He nods. “How come when you touched my arm we both didn’t just…drop dead?”

Bruce looks at me seriously. “We’re both Extinguishers. So, naturally, our Talents cancel out against each other. If you have two Mind Controllers, for example, they wouldn’t be able to use their Talents against each other, because it would cancel out.” He explains. My stomach clenches at the mention of Mind Controllers—Chase’s Talent. I concentrate on breathing and making it up the stairs. That’s exactly what I need right now. To fall down the stairs because I forgot to breathe.

Bruce looks at me, confused. “Are you all right?”

I nod, clearing my mind and heart. “Peachy.”

And Bruce nods, knowing I’m lying but not probing, and I am thankful for that. I’ve only known Bruce for less than an hour, but I already feel like I’ve known him longer. And that parental, paternal feeling I got when he asked me if I was okay is sure a feeling that is going to linger.

Closing my eyes as I try to fall asleep that night, I think of my parents. Of how much I miss them. But I block out all thought of Chase—not letting myself hurt too much for one day.

Reviews

[Anya]

Wonderful start :)
"I take a bite of my pancakes and almost feint from the pain that statement ensues." feint? is that suppost to be faint?

I feel so baaad for Skye. Although it's so good that she's found him. You know I worship your book :D
I only have time to read this chapter but I really wish I could read more. Well done! Awesome! Loooove it :)

[Aimee]

Hey,
I really love your book, so far.

Hope you plan on continuing! [: