Elevated (Book 1): Elevated (8 page)

“What do you think it is?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t either.” Shelly starts crying again.

Aaron rolls his eyes and walks off.

Shelly calls out to him. “But—Aaron! If you do find out anything, tell me!”

Aaron turns, his face flashing red. “If he won’t tell you, how do you think we could find out?”

And with that, he stomps out the door. Shelly continues crying. I understand Aaron’s frustration after months of Shelly’s lengthy speeches and theatrics, but he could have been more sensitive.

“Aaron doesn’t trust anyone in the government,” I say, in an attempt to make me feel better about his actions.

Shelly’s eyes grow wide. “You can trust me. You will trust me, right? If you find out anything?”

Her pleading face scares me. There’s nothing I can tell her and I can’t promise to get Aaron to help. I don’t even know if I can trust her. I have my own secrets to worry about.

“I see. Fine!” Shelly says as she storms out of the room.

Immediately, I feel guilty and try to chase her down, although I have no idea what I will say when I catch up to her. In the end, I don’t have to worry, as she takes off in a flash and is out of sight.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As I watch the other passengers on the city bus, I’m grateful it’s only late afternoon. They seem like types whose mode goes from creepy to mugger after dark. A fuzzy man next to me wears clothes caked in grime and growls like a bear at each stop. A woman with scraggly hair on the other side swats at spiders on her face that aren’t there.

I hate the bus.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a chance in a million my mom will give me a ride to the Home for Basics. Mr. Roberts would have a coronary if I even asked him. A dark thought makes me wonder if perhaps that would solve my problems with him.

The bus creaks and moans the whole trip. I breathe a sigh of relief when it slumps into the final stop and I’m still alive. I need to suck it up and tell Aaron about my ability. He has a car.

I unlock the door with my thumb and push my way through the stacks of grimy boxes to Jex’s desk. He is typing on the computer and doesn’t notice me until after a cheese puff crunches under my foot. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I took the bus.”

He glances up at me. “Are you ever going to tell Aaron?”

“Maybe.”

“When?”

“Not sure.”

“You must like the bus.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

Jex snorts. “So you’re here to learn about your power.”

“Yes, so I can control it. And not use it.”

“You don’t want to use it?”

“No. I wish I didn’t have it to begin with.”

Jex leans back in his chair. “Hate to tell you this, but as time goes on, you’re going to find it harder not to use it. It’s going to become part of you.”

“Sounds like a disease.”

“In a way, it is. Sure, there are some who overcome their abilities through meditation or religion, those who see the world for the crazy place it’s become. But most have to go with it. It’s like a drug. Once your power within is unleashed, it can’t be unlearned.”

“But if I practice, then at least I’ll gain better control.”

Jex smiles. “Possible. Now, shall we begin?”

I nod and Jex turns me around and stands back to back with me. There’s a lurch behind my back as Jex moves his arm. All at once, I see it in my mind. His arm. Outstretched. Holding some sort of card.

“What are you holding, Jex?” I ask.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“It’s a card, I can tell that. The size of a postcard.”

“Good, continue.”

“You have a pen in your pocket. No wait, it’s more like a marker.”

“Back to the card. What’s on it?”

I concentrate on the outline of the card, but I can’t see anything more. It’s blank.

“Is it blank?”

“It is right now,” Jex says.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the marker.

“You’re writing on the card,” I say, scanning his shadow.

“What did I write?”

My mind focuses on the card. Still blank. “I can’t tell. I mean, should I? Scanners only have dimensional perception.”

“Depends. Some Elevated can read simple characters. Some can see colors. It’s not consistent.”

“I only see outlines. Shapes, density, that sort of thing.”

“It’s still a powerful ability.”

He steps towards a pile of junk behind some shelves. It obscures his outline as my brain fights to filter through the clutter surrounding it. Jex turns the corner and fades away behind a bookcase.

“What am I doing now?”

He’s gone. My scanning only shows the outline of cluttered shelves filled with magazines, wires, and empty cans of beer. I concentrate on the shelves and a moving form appears through gaps in the items. My head twists as it tracks the shifting shadow. Reflex, I’m sure, since my eyes can’t assist with my scanning. It’s nothing like seeing normally. It’s more like the way my brain pieces together a memory of somebody’s face.  It takes mental focus, but slowly the outline of Jex becomes clear again. His silhouette is darker than the objects in front of him. Faint, but still visible.

“Jumping jacks. You’re doing jumping jacks.”

“Right,” Jex huffs after he stops. “Your sense of density is quite good. Keep working on it.”

“Weird, at home I can see through walls easily, but here it’s hard to see very far.”

“You can see through walls?”

“Yeah, at home I can.”

“Fascinating. Must have a powerful density filter. Which is why you’re thrown off here. Too much junk around. A wall is uniform. Easier to filter out.”

“So I guess I shouldn’t be trying this trick at a warehouse.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it.” Jex motions his hand for me to turn around, which I do. He smiles. “Ok, now that was cool.”

We both laugh.

Jex steps over to his desk and pulls out some papers. “I hacked the university server and downloaded these files. Instructions on harnessing Scanner ability. Good exercises. We’ll go through them together. We’ve already done the first one. I can safely establish you are a “High Density, Low Surface Area Scanner” which means we’re going to focus on surface area challenges.”

We go right to work. The exercises involve Jex writing things or asking me to describe textures of objects. We go for hours and the drills begin to scramble my head. The line between what I see with my eyes and my sonar becomes fuzzy. Reality itself loses its color and texture from the sensory overload. After the fourth exercise, I’m exhausted.

“You need to take a break,” Jex says. “I’ll go get some water.”

With Jex out of the room, my brain relaxes and I find myself collapsing into the office chair. I haven’t felt like this since my algebra exam last year. Jex returns with a glass of water and hands it to me. I have to smile when I spot the large can of beer he brought for himself.

“You’re doing great. In fact, I think you’ll be ready very soon,” Jex says, chugging the beer down.

“Ready for?”

“Think it’s time to find out about your dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me your father was labeled an Unsound. But you weren’t given a classification.”

“No, they said they don’t release that information.”

“Well, no, it’s because there isn’t any information.”

“What?”

“The record for your dad has been tampered with.”

I get up out of the chair. “But why?”

“Let’s figure out the ‘what’ first. We can worry about the ‘why’ later,” Jex says as he sits at the desk. His fingers dash across the keyboard.

A photograph appears on the screen of a stern-faced middle-aged man. Wiry blond hair emphasizes his pale, sallow skin and contrasts with his dark black suit. I recognize the scrawny man immediately from Basic Cuisine. He apprehended the elderly man with three arms.

“Maddock Steele,” Jex says in between gulps of beer.

Shelly’s dad. I’d never seen him before, but I know his name.

“As far as I can tell, he made the entry about your dad. He works in GC&R, the GEMO Control and Regulation department. He should have the full story.”

“And how do we get the truth from him?” I ask.

“That’s where you come in. We’re going to track him together.”

“Spying?”

“If you want to look at it that way.”

“You want me to spy on a man who works in GEMO Regulation using my powers? That’s crazy. What if I’m caught?”

“You want to know, don’t you?”

“The whole thing sounds freaky to me. Following someone around makes my skin crawl. I thought you were going to help me control these powers.”

“I thought you wanted to know more about your dad.”

The whole idea is crazy. I haven’t even gotten comfortable with my power and now Jex wants me to use it to spy on someone? “But we’ve just started.”

“If something is up with your dad, we can’t just wait around. He could be in real danger.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Understood. But don’t think too long.”

After a quick nod, I snake my way through the clutter and out the door. To take on such a dangerous mission would be idiotic. My dad wouldn’t want me to ruin my life pursuing some conspiracy theory. What if Jex is wrong? Maybe a computer glitch changed my dad’s entry. I try to rationalize it in my head, but a deep-rooted impulse tells me there are secrets to uncover. But there has to be a different way.

Especially one that doesn’t use my mutant ability.

***

“Ready to find out what exciting career options we have?” Aaron says, crumbling up the wrapper from his energy bar. “I’m hoping for grocery bagger myself.”

Shelly enters the classroom and marches right by us without a moment’s glance. She passes empty chairs next to us to take a seat in the back corner.

“Guess she’s still mad,” Aaron says.

I glare at him. “You think?”

The room becomes silent when Miss Laura enters. Everyone stares at their screens, hoping to get a glimpse of their results from yesterday’s assessment. Classmates fidget while she sits at her desk and types on the keyboard.

My screen refreshes.

Strong Quality: Abstract Reasoning

Prospective Job: Restaurant Management

I reread the words again, and then for a third time. Maybe the letters might transform into something better.

“That bad huh?” Aaron says, leaning over.

I twist the screen around and Aaron chuckles. “Well, this makes sense. Who knew we wasted abstract reasoning on food service? Explains a lot of the problems out there. And some bizarre menu choices.”

“What about yours?”

“Just as I thought,” he twists his screen around.

Strong Quality: Math Computation

Prospective Job: Accountant/Loan Officer

Aaron sighs. “All they can ever think of using Basics with math skills is for money. They must assume I’m anti-science since I didn’t get zapped.”

“It pays well at least. Could be worse.”

Like my result. I try to shake it, but the screen only confirms what I long suspected.

Aaron puts his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t let them tell you what you can do. And it’s not all bad, abstract reasoning is kind of cool.”

Abstract reasoning.

Something tells me it’s a bit like a participant ribbon for students who can’t score in real academic categories.

***

 The school day drags. We endure an endless amount of mind-numbing assignments designed to prepare us to enter the workforce. The “touchy feely tests,” as Aaron calls them, begin to blend into each other. They consist of short phrases like “I like competition,” or “I am a self starter” with ratings for how much you agree with the statement. One test gives me the result of being a competitive, strong-willed leader and the other tells me I need to have more gumption and to take charge. I can only laugh. The good news is the lack of consistency in the tests calls all the results into question. I’m more than happy to challenge the validity of that first test.

“Well class, that completes our last test,” says Miss Laura to pathetic applause from the tired students. “Tomorrow, we can begin to go over how to build your strengths.”

“This class is such a joke,” whispers Aaron as she outlines the upcoming schedule. “It’s busywork. Guess they think no Basic is going to try for any sort of higher education.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I applied for Kingswell. They admit some Basics. I mean, provided you’re good enough.

“Right.”

I snap shut my screen, sick of the test result glaring back and mocking me with the promise of a career in middle management. Out of sight, my fate doesn’t feel so sealed.

The class finishes and we run out of the room like lightning, dodging students and desks. Only a few steps out, I smack hard into a large student, knocking her to the ground. A knot develops in my stomach as the large wings of a familiar Flier come into focus.

“Watch where you’re going,” yells Tessla, picking herself off the ground.

Her two Flier friends come over to help lift her up and I gulp as they face me.

“Hey, it’s that dumb kid from the restaurant,” says the Flier with sandy brown hair.

“Wha—?” Tessla says, brushing off her bright red pants, now covered with dust from the tile floor. A small trail of blood streams from her lip. “You cause a ton of accidents. Don’t think it’s safe to have a stupid klutz like you ‘round here.”

“I-I’m sorry.” My whole body shivers. “I wanted to go home. It’s been a long day. I shouldn’t have been running and—”

“Shut up! Just shut up,” Tessla says. “I think this school needs a little accident prevention. Don’t you agree guys?”

She glances over at the two Fliers next to her and gives a devilish grin, which they return. Chucking their wingvests, their wings snap out, sending feathers flying. Tessla’s red and black feathers dwarf her small frame.

The two male Fliers then pin Aaron back against the lockers and encircle him with their wings.

“Run!” he says.

“You run and your buddy gets it. This is for you, not him. Wonder how many flaps it will take?”