The Tale of Tara and Emiko

XXXVIII. Kailey

 I wish I could tell you exciting things had happened afterwards. Maybe some big revelation that set off the events, keeping the cycle in motion, or a discovery of how to end the torture entirely.

Instead, I was hit with months of the same life I'd been living before I knew Tara and Emiko could be saved. School, friends, fictionals, a few quizzes, tests, and a lovely near-death experience in a dystopian world's rebellion to round off a bland, predictable schedule. Sure, the first few days after meeting the girls in person was peppered with texts from the two, but by now the chats had been left untouched for weeks.

I scribbled a few sentences in my notebook, trying to keep my mind from wandering. There were so many reasons to worry with the dire situation I was in, and when you're trying to save two souls who've been pulled through space and time seven different times with a brutal betrayal in more than half of those lives from falling into the same cycle again, the Pythagorean Theorem doesn't sound too exciting.

A hand slammed down on the table in front of me, ruffling my papers. "Kailey Lumin," a voice like poisoned honey drawled.

I sighed. "What do you want, Cyrah?"

Cyrah laughed, loud and boisterous, causing a few kids to throw glances our way. The teacher notices and glares at her. She wilted, but hid it well, sliding into the seat across from me, her tight platinum-blond curls bouncing like Slinkys.

"Aw, c'mon, Kai-Kai!" she half-whispered playfully, my fake nickname the thorns to her rosy, upbeat tone. "Can't we just be friends?" She emptied half of her bag onto the table, pastel orange notebooks and binders and folders so bright it looked like someone melted a hundred Waddle Dees down and turned them into school supplies, picking up a pencil and twirling it between her fingers. I punched a few numbers into my calculator, but it's hard to stay focused when the only sound in the room other than the scratching of pen on paper and muffled whispers of conversation is the occasional pop of bubble gum.

"You've been asking me that since sixth grade. No," I said firmly.

"Kailey...don't be a party pooper!" Cyrah smiled, but it was icy and manipulating, more condescending than comforting. "Why?" she asked. "You've got capital-T The rarest Spirit in the world, and I'm the most influential, popular person in the entire school! We'd be unstoppable!"

Second most influential, I thought. Secrets are much more powerful than followers. "Anyone with half a brain could tell that for the past year and a half, the only reason you're trying to be friends with me is to get closer to my brother."

Cyrah recoiled, copper-chestnut eyes wide, ruby-red lips slightly open in shock. "I-what? No, that's not true! Come on, Kailey, you know how crazy rumors can be," she whispered, a little louder than before, with hints of...was that desperation? Interesting.

"Oh, the rumors? I've heard those are even worse. You know-" I leaned in, speaking in a stage-whisper, "-people thought you were trying to get closer to me for the followers. But we all know you're not that shallow, right?"

Cyrah sputtered, lost for words. My earpiece buzzed in my ear, and I nearly flinched. I didn't know it could get unblocked during study hall hours.

"Hey, Kailey? You there?" Cliff asked. I do my best to ignore him.

"Well, you wanna know a fun little rumor I heard?" Cyrah asked, her tone now sharper than a Japanese chef's knife. "I always see you hanging out around Frolight's classroom, that batty old witch who thinks all this fictional crap is worth spending time on. And you're always being allowed to dash off in the middle of class to see her, too. And I'm not oblivious. I've noticed that these sudden departures are more frequent, now more than ever. So tell me, Kailey. Are the rumors true? Have you really fallen for a fictional?"