Delmira: The Awakening

Chapter 2: School

“Kells! Kelley! Hey, wake up!” My friend Myra whispers, shaking me gently.

I jolt awake and look up, panicked, locking eyes with my first period teacher Mr. Tilp. He’s incredibly nice and understanding, but I’ve been toeing the line with my showing up late and falling asleep during class. Guess this will be yet another mark against his patience...His staple slouchy button down with the sleeves pushed up and jeans accurately reflect his chill demeanor. He c***s his head to the side slightly in amusement at my panicked awakening. Even though it’s AP Comparative Government and Politics, he somehow makes it fun and interesting, his passion for the subject is palpable.

He smirks at my panic, swiveling his laser pointer between his fingers.

“Look I know bureaucracy and red tape aren’t exactly the most interesting subjects in the world, but could you at least pretend to take notes?” He laughs, only half joking.

“So sorry!” I say, frantically picking up my pencil. A few of the kids in the class chuckle, then turn back around as Mr. Tilp continues with his powerpoint. I start scribbling down notes as I half heartedly follow along, but can’t help myself from glancing out the thin rectangular windows to my left, the sky is still dark with twilight. I skipped my zero period, which started at 6:40AM, to squeeze a few hours of sleep in. After training, we got home around 4 in the morning. Even Rose plus almost 3 hours of sleep was not enough to completely cure my migraine from my mom's mental attack. I really should have stayed home...

My friend Ria leans over, “Kells you ok?” She asks in as hushed a tone as she can muster. She brushes a stray strand of brunette hair behind her glasses, their brown color accenting her hazel eyes. While she may be an introvert, she somehow tends to be the loudest in the room. Her headstrong passion winning out over her shy tendencies- especially if it comes to Spanish or history, both of which she can and will talk for hours on end about.

“Yeah, you’ve been kinda spacing lately.” Myra chimes in. Her sandy blonde hair still slightly wet from her early morning swim. Somehow she balances being co-captain of the swim team with taking honors classes- in which she gets straight A’s - and a social life. Even though she is a hard act to follow, she is the most humble person you will meet with quippy comebacks ready at every moment.

I snap my gaze from the window to their concerned faces, and plaster a reassuring smile on my face- something I’m very good at now

“Yeah I just stayed up late studying is all. Trying to keep up my GPA and all ya know?”

While that’s partially true I was studying, I don’t think knowing how to infiltrate and desist a hostage situation is going to help my GPA. They nod understandingly and we all turn back towards Mr. Tilp’s Powerpoint, his cheery voice fading to the background of my consciousness as another swell of exhaustion and migraine wash over me like a tidal wave.

Ria and Myra are two of my closest friends. Or at least, as close as I can have given my line of work. Sometimes I wish I could tell them the truth about me…, have a real connection with someone outside the clan, for a reason other than recon.

But I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them that I can feel every emotion they’re feeling 24/7. That for once I want to sleep more than 3 hours. That I'm a highly trained Agent, called Keshye in my clan, with special abilities from a dying race caught in a centuries long war against the Kierian- a cruel, cold, and brilliant race that just so happen to be our mortal enemies.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

It’s the oldest rule in the book; No one can know we exist.

Partly for our own protection, who knows what the governments of this world would do if they could get their hands on abilities like ours. But mostly it’s to protect normal people- the Saverians or Saves for short, some of us jokingly call them “Savory's”. Exceptions can be made for marrying in but that is extremely rare and very complicated...

We are called the Delmira.

It means protector, which is exactly what we do. We fight off the Kierian to protect the Saves and keep the world spinning, And we’ve been doing it for hundreds of years. Most tragedies throughout history have had some influence from the Kierian.

For example take Nazi germany. While Hitler was a psycho Saverian, many of the sick Nazi scientists that conducted human experiments and came up with some of the horrors of the concentration camps were Kierian. Obsessed with learning how things work, pushing the limits, and advancing science, no matter how cruel or gruesome it is.

On the flip side, some of the key people who brought victory on the allied side were Delmira.

The Kierian are split into three categories, the Sentinels, Renats, Emirhan. The Sentinels are used mainly as guards made up of Stoneskins and Fogs. The Renats are usually found in labs, made up of Hypnos and Slashers. Kierian leaders, such as Mason Quade, are always Shadows- able to manipulate shadows and darkness to their every whim .

We Delmira are sorted into 4 power categories.

There’s the Mentals: mainly comprised of telepaths, telkies, and the rare whispers; The Physicals: mainly comprised of Strongarms, healers, and the rare panthers;

The Elementals: that include metalons, Frosts, and the rare magma;

And last but not least the Hybrids: their powers mix two or more categories or don’t conform to one. These include empaths, silks, and whatever odd rare abilities materialize every few centuries.

“Uh hey Kells, are you sure you’re ok?” Myra asks, looking at me like I could snap at any second, like she’s seen a ghost . I flip back to reality, leaving my inner monologue and returning to the classroom.

“Yeah just a bit of a headache and I’m tired. Why?”

“Because ur nose is bleeding. Like a lot.”

I glance down, my gaze meeting a small but growing pool of blood on my desk. My hand flies to my nose, sure enough my fingers come back coated in sticky red blood.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and begin to stand up, Mr. Tilp looks over as I do

“Oh geez! why don’t you go to the nurse.” He says jumping back slightly at my no doubt garish appearance. A few others to look over, hushed gasps entering the room. I nod and grab my bag with my free arm, causing my shoulder to sag under its weight, and rush out of the classroom. Once I'm out the door I make a right out of the hallway to the bathroom instead of the nurse. I know what’s wrong with me, and it’s nothing a Saverian medic can help, or would believe. When I first started training my mom warned me about this. When you execute or are the recipient of a very powerful mental attack, or if a strong mental block is broken, there can be some… side effects.

So far I’ve had 7, now 8, nosebleeds, 4 episodes of throwing up, 2 fainting episodes and too many migraines to count.

Grey, white, and pink tile greets me as I enter the restroom- the floor perpetually damp with what I hope is sink water. I grab a paper towel from the machine to my right, which noisily spits another into place in response. My appearance makes me jump. My copper curls have descended into frizzy madness, their usual sheene gone and replaced with matte dullness. My eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with deep purple. A stream of bright red blood cuts down my round face, extending from my pert nose to my chin and slightly down my neck, a wad of crumpled brown paper towel shoved under my nose. I pinch the bridge and try to stop the bleeding, wetting another paper towel in my freehand and using it to clean up what I can in the meantime. Once I give up on maneuvering around the paper towel wad, I lean on the wall behind me and lean my head back onto the cool tile. The paper towel rustling slightly as I reseat it. I take a deep breath through my mouth and close my eyes, trying to appreciate the peace and quiet while it lasts. Three wads of paper towels later and what seems like forever, the bleeding stops. I scrub the caked blood from under my nose and splash cold water on my face.

“Great, yet another missed first period, Mr. Tilp must love me.” I mutter to myself as I open the small top pocket of my backpack and grab a hair tie and concealer. I tame my mane of crazy ringlets into some semblance of a put-together-messy bun and gently pat some concealer under my eyes, the exhaustion melting off my face as the dark circles disappear. Two rounds of concealer and few drops of Visine later, I begin to gather my things, no longer looking like a deranged mess. Right as I step foot onto the blue Berber carpet of the hallway, an ear splitting ring fills the campus signaling the beginning of passing period. Students flood the space in front of me, opening and closing their lockers with such ferocity it seems akin to a feeding frenzy. No wonder they call freshman fish. I bob and weave through the crowded hallways like a buoy on choppy seas, attempting to make it to my second period class- stagecraft. While I love the class, the teacher, Mr. Arneson, can be a bit much to take. Especially on days like today when it feels as if someone is stabbing the base of my neck and blending my brain.

After several minutes of navigating the rough seas of the hallway, I make it into the nearly empty arts hallway. To my right, the grey square faces of lockers greet me, the doorway to my class nestled in a gap between the sections. I stop in front of the generic brown door, preparing to walk into the classroom. I take a deep breath, stalling facing the barrage of emotions waiting for me. Mr. Arneson feels everything so intensely that even on a normal day it is overwhelming. His go to’s are frustration, anger, and arrogance, which are some of the hardest to block out as they can become all encompassing and, for lack of a better word, blinding. With a slight creak I open the door, finding my usual spot in the circle of chairs rimming the room. I love my seat because the wall in front of me is entirely made of mirrors, so that Theatre kids can watch how they are emoting. For me, I use it to keep tabs on the room. No one can sneak up on you if you can see every angle of the room, perfect for reconnaissance. As I walk In to take my seat I hear the familiar “Hey look, it's Kells!” My friend Myles greets me with every class. His tan skin and dark hair are a stark contrast to my complexion in the mirror. I smile and sit next to him, sliding my bag beneath my chair in my usual routine. I bump his elbow with my own playfully and smile. He leans towards me as I sit down.

“Let me guess, He’s going to be mad about something, and yell at us to get to work?” He whispers.

I laugh quietly, “What!? But that would be so unexpected!”

He chuckles and looks forward as Mr. Arneson steps to the center of the circle of seats. I try to hide my wince of pain as his normal roar of "roll call!!!" pierces my skull.

I glance around to see if anyone noticed and meet eyes with Zeth, the troublemaker of the class. He quirks an eyebrow at me then turns to Mr. Arneson to call out his number.

I lean into Myles,

“Que anger in 3,2,1”

He chuckles as right on que mr. Arneson jumps up from his chair, a thin haze of reds and maroons of arrogance and anger emanating from his slender frame, per usual.

“All right, quiet down, we have a lot to do today. AND alot to fix!” Mr. Arneson practically shouts- his only documented volume. Though his voice is loud, It all begins to fade to the back of my mind as the world starts spinning. He rambles on about what is on the itinerary today, but I didn't catch any of it. Instead I focus straight ahead, willing the world to return to it’s normal stationary state, my knuckles white as I grip the edge of my seat for dear life. No doubt leaving imprints of it’s rough pattern on my palms.

I really should have stayed home today.

Suddenly everyone gets up to leave for the shop, I stall behind hoping to get a grip before working with heavy machinery, pretending to fish something out of my bag, even though I can't actually see what's in my bag. I stagger to a stand, dropping my bag at my feet hoping to make it to the adjoining bathroom/ dressing room a few steps to my left. As soon as I take a step, the world floods with spots of black that cluster together, blocking my vision. Then the world goes cold.

~~~~

“Kelley? Hey, Kelley! Come on wake up!”

Next thing I know I'm waking up with Niall, Taylor, and Zeth- three trouble makers that always stay behind for as long as they can get away with- Kneeling beside me. They all look very concerned. I wince from the bright lights and sit up gripping my head.

“You ok, thought we lost ya for a second there?’ Zeth asks.

I nod, “Yeah I’m fine. Just stood up too fast I guess.” I stagger up- sending the three of them into a flurry of

“Careful!” And “not so fast.”’

Zeth turns to Niall and Taylor, his Red Nikes squeaking on the floor as he does, making me wince.

“I’ll meet you guys in there, I’m going to walk her to the nurse.”

They nod and head out saying get well and goodbye.

“I appreciate it but really I’m fine.” I say giving a reassuring smile while I head for the door. He smirks at my sad attempt to deflect his help, throwing an amused “Mmhmm” my way as he follows me out, holding the door.

I reluctantly say thanks, but turn and head towards the restroom instead of the nurse. Zeth walks next to me, not questioning the change in direction. Instead, he watches me intently, as if I could break at any second. His gaze weirds me out slightly but I’m too discombobulated to focus on it. While he’s always been nice to me there’s always something that’s made me uneasy around him- Particularly now when I’m not as alert as usual. My friend Ariel says he’s flirting with me, but if he is, it’s a lost cause. Not only would it not work between us, but dating is a bit more complicated when you have to do recon on your possible significant other. Relationship or not.

Never mind the whole tradition of The Crossing, as the firstborn daughter I can reinforce clan ties by marrying another first born from a different clan. My parents have left the decision up to me, seeing as it’s 2017. But if I chose to follow my ancestors footsteps, I do technically have a betrothed.

All that aside, his concern is nice. Though he is very intelligent, school is not his thing. He makes a point to give off a “I don't care” vibe with everything he does. His shirt is always a size too big with some sort of huge graphic on it, paired with joggers or oversized jeans, his vibe is a mixture of faux gangster and just rolled out of bed- especially with his staple 5 o'clock shadow and bed head. When the blue burbur of the hallway gives way to the pink and grey tile barrier of the women’s restroom I awkwardly say thanks and head in, giving him a half smile.

The fluorescent lights glow maniacally, as if they can sense my migraine. Their high pitched buzzing like a swarm of bees against my sensitive ears. I breathe in and try to ignore it. As I head over to the sink, I say a silent thanks for waterproof mascara, a necessity in my line of work. I wave my hands in front of the black faucet sensor, streams of ice cold water lazily flowing from it in response. Letting it pool in my cupped hands, I lean down and splash the cool clear puddles on my face.

As the artificial tears it causes drip down my face into the sink, I anchor myself with my hands on either edge of the basin and close my eyes. Waiting for the world to stop spinning. I focus on calming my breathing, counting each second. Tuning out the world. I splash my face one more time and everything finally stills. As I blindly reach for a paper towel, I hear the door swing open behind me. The rough brown paper towel crinkles against my skin as I wipe my face and glance in the mirror, expecting a retreating figure to go into one of the stalls behind me. Instead, I locked eyes with Zeth. I jump slightly but regain my composure quickly. He chuckles, his brown eyes glinting strangely in the harsh overhead lights.

“You're not supposed to be in here you know.” I say as nonchalantly as possible, tossing my paper towel in the bin nearby, all the while maintaining eye contact in the mirror. I silently probe outward, as painful as it is, hoping to gain an advantage or at least a motive. He leans on his arm braced on the wall next to him, emphasizing his height and my lack thereof. At 5’9” his arm sits just above eye level for me, his just slightly larger than average frame blocking my path.

“What’s up?” I turn around to face him and take a step back as I ask- evenly distributing my weight and bracing myself as I do so. I probe harder, pushing through the wave of nausea it causes and come up blank hitting a weak mental block.

Strange

Saverians shouldn’t even know how to conjure a mental block. He smirks, as if he can sense me and he looks down at the floor coyly, then back to me.

As he makes eye contact he straightens up, taking a step towards me.

“Just admiring you.” He says, shrugging as he gets closer.

“Flattered. But really, you shouldn’t be in here.” I say taking a step back.

He smirks, humored at my attempt to dissuade him while looking me up and down.

I think I’m going to be sick

“We could be good together, you know.”

I take a second step back. I’m quickly running out of room.

Ariel was right, I guess he has been flirting.

“Thanks but not interested, not to mention this is not a great time. Now Back. Up.”

“Come on babe,” I cringe at the nickname, “you know I’m right.”

“Do you always hit on girls after they pass out or is this a special treat?”

He chuckles and takes another step forward.

“Zeth I’m not going to warn you again.” My heel taps the wall, a satisfied look crossing his smug face. Like a predator that’s finally trapped it’s prey.

“Yeah?”

He puts his hands on the wall behind me, cornering me between his arms, then leans in towards my ear “what are you gonna do? Hmm?”

I kick hard between his legs. In one Swift follow through I jab up, my palm colliding with his nose. As he cringes forward from my kick, I grab the back of his head and slam it towards the wall. It connects, hard. He groans and sinks to the ground, gripping his now bleeding nose. I grab his hair, using it to push his head against the wall, eliciting a small Yelp. I lean down so we are eye to eye, still holding his hair.

“That’s what.” I smirk condescendingly. “If you so much as think of trying something like that again, this” I say gesturing to him a mess on the ground, “will have seemed like a walk in the park. Got it?”

He nods whimpering. Before I release my grip, something catches my eye. I force his head to the side slightly, noting a small N like symbol tattooed right behind his ear. While I’m not surprised he would have a tattoo, the symbol seems...familiar. And not in a good way. I release his hair, giving his head a small knock against the wall to enforce my point and straighten up. As I exit the bathroom, he stays in a dazed heap on the ground.

Once out, I head to the nurse, adrenaline easing my headache but feeling nauseous from the whole encounter.

I should’ve stayed in bed.

One quick phone call from the nurse later and my wish comes true. I go straight up to my room to take a much needed nap. But before I fall asleep the symbol floats back into my head, the dark of sleep slipping in quietly with it.