The Girl Who Could Change Fate

Chapter 1: Lacey Joy White-2

And it made me recall how I could.

There were thirty-two students in this class. An even number. But minus seven that were missing equaled twenty-five. An odd number.

I just wanted school to go by smooth and swift—so it did.

Nothing remotely exciting occurred for the remainder of the period. I groaned and griped along with the rest of the class when Mrs. Kramer instructed that we finish reading Act III of Macbeth in solitary silence, though I underwent a small pang of self-guilt. Most students affirmed that they couldn't comprehend Old English and wanted to vomit at all the lovey-dovey scenarios in plays like Romeo and Juliet or A Midsummer Night's Dream. They hated Shakespeare, they claimed. Me on the other hand—I loved Shakespeare. But I put on the pretense like everyone else. I knew for a fact more than half the class secretly enjoyed Macbeth. They just wouldn't admit it. Why? Because they would be thought of as “uncool.” Typical high school mold and its unofficial motto—“be who you're trying to be, not yourself.”

Second and fourth block were unperturbed. Trinity was in both periods, which considerably brightened my day. We discussed Alex and his traitorous moves over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—the only real deal on the cafeteria menu—during lunch. Normally, we sit with a few other friends at this time; yet as my situation this morning had been dire, we bent the rules and ate outside next to an unused trailer as we did every so often for more privacy.

Advanced Algebra II was the final block of the day. I didn't have to worry that anything bad would ensue—my wish assured that. But then again, it was just math: turn in homework, do warm-up, go over notes, begin new assignment. Throw in a test or quiz once in a while, and that was the same schedule every sixth period. Easy, especially since I was an expert when it came to finding “x.”

The class itself was split in half between some dorks, preps, and a handful of teenagers on third level status of the Pyramid. They took their chances in trying to befriend the preps, though usually they just ended up letting them copy their homework.

…Something I had experienced for the first time in my whole entire life that very morning.

Tears threatened to trickle down my cheeks, but I told myself to stop being such a whiny b***h and get over it. Alex was just another punk-rocker who only cared for his skateboard and his music. Jesus, I hated stereotyping.

Math passed by quickly and smoothly; and before I knew it, the final bell was ringing, signaling school's dismissal.

I gathered up my belongings and threw them into the depths of my bag before pulling it over my shoulder. Thank God we didn't have to use our math books this class, as I now had to go hunt mine down, even knowing I would most likely never see it again.

I decided to skip meeting Trinity before she went off to Key Club. The faster I got out of this place, the better.

Students pummeled their way through the halls in their desperate attempts to reach the parking lot first. Perhaps because they desired the back seats on the bus so they would be thought of as “cooler”—who knew? Fortunately for me, I didn't have to take the cheese. Never did, never will.

Instead, I hurried over to the long line of vehicles where students caught their rides home from parents, relatives, or friends. As it was Tuesday, Jaiden would be picking me up.

I had a different ride depending on the day of the week. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, when Trinity didn't have to stay after for her damn Key Club, her mom would drive me home. It was fun, even when Mrs. Thompson could be a strict mofo. However, it wasn't these days that I liked the most. Every Tuesday and Thursday, my friend Jaiden would rescue me from this accursed school—and I didn't enjoy it solely because of his slick, shiny silver Porsche and the jealous glowers it put on people's faces, or because sometimes he would buy me a slurpee from 7-11 or a second lunch. No, I valued his friendship and kind wisdom above everything else. I also valued his good looks.

After a moment of searching, I spotted that polished car glimmering sleekly under the bright golden rays of the sun. Juniors and seniors grouped together in the parking lot tried to conceal their expressions of envy and awe behind contemptuous glares. It didn't help: their own dingy vehicles looked like they came from the junkyard next to Jaiden's coveted, coruscating Porsche.

It was pretty obvious to bystanders that we weren't related. His car could attest to that, particularly as my crummy messenger backpack was banging against my leg at the moment with blaring cheapness. We also appeared not the least bit similar. Especially since Jaiden looked like sin now.

“Hey, Lacey,” he said cheerfully, grinning from behind the wheel. “How was your day?”

“A complete suckfest,” I replied, unceremoniously tossing my bag into the back seat, conscious it was a smear of ugly against the spotless perfection of his vehicle.

I climbed into the passenger seat and shed Jaiden a contemplative glance, feeling just like the countless girls goggling his staggering features from outside the car. His silvery-blond hair, so pale it was almost white, was clean-cut and stunning in its neat, spiky trend, angling over the right side of his face in thin, pointed tufts. He was dressed in his usual attire: a fine suit pronouncing wealth and status and outlining the swell of muscles underneath, as well as a dashing purple tie. His gentle face blazed with a congenial compassion that further enhanced the smooth delicacy of his countenance as his glimmering blue eyes danced with profound wisdom and benevolence.

God, he was so hot.

Then I felt really guilty about that. There was no way I could slut it up—guys never looked at me twice—but I sure as hell was making an impression of one. I liked Alex to the extreme, even after today, but there was no denying I crushed on Jaiden. With an image like that, what female wouldn't? I was such a little perv. Honestly.

“School didn't go well?” he queried empathetically. “How about I take you out somewhere? It would be like a date, as long as you don't tell Abigail.”

I couldn't help it—I laughed. Jaiden always pretended to flirt with me, probably because he knew no one else would. So it was most likely out of pity, although I truthfully didn't believe that, I was just good at making myself feel bad. Still, he was only twenty-eight—I was fifteen. There was a thirteen year difference, but thirteen had always been the most powerful number among us.

And by us, I mean the ones who could Change Fate. Jaiden was the only other person I had met who could do it. There were others, but I didn't know any or what their competence was, even though Jaiden had promised me several years back that he would introduce me to a few sooner or later.

Changing Fate was an innate ability which “supposedly” came unexpectedly with a birth, as Fate itself was always unexpected. Yet the whole random choosing of who could receive the gift—I was sure it came through inheritance from the family. After all, I knew my grandmother could do it; my mom—no; my dad … well, I only had one memory of my dad, and it didn't enforce my idea that he was a Fate Changer. But I'm positive I acquired it somehow from my grandmother. Jaiden happened to agree with me as well, although he couldn't confirm it in any way, as he had never known his parents. We actually agreed on a lot of things when it came to our gift: it was highly dangerous (not that that wasn't obvious); it could lead to critical consequences (that was obvious too); and, ultimately, it shouldn't be used.

The difference between us was when we manipulated it. I attested that it was more of a thought, whereas Jaiden said it was based more on feeling. I didn't understand how—I usually asked for something, like the day going by faster, and the future would re-create itself so that at least my wish was included. It always worked. Well, most of the time. 'K, maybe not always, but I didn't want to admit to him that he was probably right. He usually was.

The power to Change Fate came with a shifting of something. It also came with a song explaining what those somethings were. My grandmother used to lullaby it to me; yet after her abrupt death a month and a half ago, right when my sophomore year of high school began, I didn't want to remember anything that reminded me of her. Still, after all my life of Changing Fate, I had the basics down. The shifting of something would mirror the shifting of the future, and it was associated through motion. You could only re-shape Fate when certain things shifted, however. Like when an even number became odd, when light became dark, when a presence became an absence, or when someone shook their head. The appearance of fire was also a sign of possibly molding the future. It was lucky these occurrences could be open for interpretation. Like this morning. No shift happened just because seven people were missing from class, but because I minused seven from an even number to create another odd number. (And please don't ask me why these things in particular Changed Fate—I have noooo clue!)

Overall, it was pretty confusing, but I didn't care. Jaiden and I didn't really use it anyways. Actually, he never used it, except in emergencies. That was a little hard to believe, considering he grew up from practically nothing yet was now some owner in a wealthy business. I knew only several prominent things about him: he had a girlfriend named Abigail (jealous—yes!), he was a single child, and he enjoyed listening to reggae music, which was currently blasting through the car.

“Hmm, the offer sounds tempting,” I pretended to muse as he pulled out of the parking lot. “And I had a pretty bad day, so I guess a strawberry slurpee would be nice.”

“Only a slurpee? I was thinking more…” he chortled.

I laughed along with him, mainly because at that comment my mind went straight to the gutter and I needed to do something else.

“No, a slurpee will be fine,” I said. “You pay for way too much stuff anyways.”

I wasn't lying about that. Apart from all the junk food he bought me after school which, by the way, made me feel like a steadily fattening Gretel, he paid for all my class supplies, phone bills, and even ensured he would yield money for my car next year. I felt really bad about it all—I didn't do s**t in return; but I could be a pretty practical b***h like that. The only problem was, I didn't know why he did it—why he purchased my items, why he picked me up from school every Tuesday and Thursday, why he ever did anything for me. I assumed it concerned my gift somehow, or maybe because he had just been my friend since I was seven. But it was all too generous. Still, when it came to Jaiden, I trusted him, more than anyone else I knew, even Trinity. He was just that kind of person. And if I doubted him, I was lost.

Also, I tended to open up to him about my life. All the time in fact. Like now.

“…and he ended up turning in my worksheet,” I finished. I had babbled about my tragic tale of Alex and his betrayal for the past five minutes. I thought it was a little thrilling, though I was making my daydream boy the bad guy.