Elementals

4

Lana

There are no signatures on my cast.

It's such a stupid thing to notice, but I notice. I broke my foot when I was ten, and everyone signed it. My family, my classmates, even the neighbors. The swirls of ink took up more space than the plaster. But now, my elbow cast is still a pristine white.

I wish I could say I broke it when I was practicing propelling myself into the air, but truthfully, I tripped down some stairs. Going to Urgent Care with a dead girl's identity was easier than I thought—probably because I picked a location that serves homeless and runaways. I gave them a fake name, explained that I had no insurance, assured them I was eighteen and not a trafficked runaway, and they said not a word, bandaged me up, and let me go.

And now I sit with a blank pager, waiting for my life to begin.

I'm the last of them. Dr. Jansen called the others fire boy, water girl, and Earth boy. For the sake of all of us, he wouldn't tell me their names or anything about them. That, he said, would all happen in due time, if it was meant to. I've only been waiting for two weeks. The others have been waiting for longer. I wonder what they're up to. I wonder if they actually want to become the Elementals.

Because I'm not sure that I do.

I haven't ruled it out. I just need to meet them. I want to talk and see if we truly can be what Jansen envisioned for us, or if that was simply an old man's fantasy. I want to believe him. I think that I do, but team or no team, I'm going to do some good. I believe I was meant to. Why else would I still be alive?

I sit up and yawn. It's already noon, and I haven't eaten breakfast yet. Honestly, who cares? No one expects anything of me, not yet. Tardiness is allowed.

I go to a diner across the street, a homely place called Zelda's. My usual is a stack of waffles, and I take it with me to the counter that faces the window. Through it I watch the cars zip by, hurrying through this desolate, nothing-town on their way to bigger, flashier places—Atlanta, mainly, which is thirty minutes down the highway. My motel sits on the other side of the road, worn-down and maybe one-third occupied.

A car pulls into its lot, and I sit up, intrigued. From it emerges two boys, and without going to the lobby, they go straight to one of the doors, and I drop the syrup jug.

That's my door.

They knock. Obviously, no one answers. I fumble around for the jug, but my eyes are glued to them. They're too far away to make out clearly, but I can see them talking to each other.

Maybe that's fire boy and earth boy, I think dryly, but I chuckle because there's no way that's true. We're not supposed to know anything about each other. They can't find me here, just like I can't find them.

They knock a few more times, and then they go into the lobby. I expect them to go to a different room, but they go back to the car.

And they don't leave.

I blink, but the car's still there. I wait for ten minutes, then thirty, then forty, but they're still there. My heart starts to thud. Are they waiting for me? For someone else? Is it safe for me to go back?

The little bell above the door rings as I leave Zelda's and begin making my way to the motel. Their windshield is facing the motel front, so they won't see me coming unless they're looking at the mirrors.

I hesitate by the road sign. There's no other way to access that room, but I can't bring myself to go inside in front of them. I sit in a bush and wait, watching through leaves and twigs. From this angle, all I can see is the side of one of their heads, and I can't see the other one at all. They don't seem to be talking.