The Storm of Elements

Dinner Conversations

The room where we have all our meals is called several things. Sometimes we call it the dining hall, or the reception hall, or just the dining room. Whatever you want to call it, it's the largest room in the ranch house. It's all wooden, from floor to ceiling (like most of the rooms), with genuine golden-orange beams on the vaulted ceilings and matching hardwood floors and walls. It didn't have any decorations, but the windows and French doors leading onto the front porch let tons of natural light in, brightening the whole place up. 

In the center of the room, long folding buffet tables were set up, full of all types of food. Tonight, Rosalynn, the chef here and Jake's mother, had made two big crockpots full of her famous spaghetti and meatballs, which I was excited to see. On the side were bowls of salad and several loaves of French bread. At the end of the row were two-liter bottles of soda and a pitcher of pink lemonade. 

Rosalynn sure knows how to get our taste buds going. 

Jake and I grab helpings of the spaghetti, salad and bread and put them on our plates. I pour myself some Coke in a plastic cup (Jake chooses grape Fanta), then we walk over to our team.

The rest of the Elementals were sitting at our usual round table also near the center of the room. They were all talking, as usual, and me and Jake's usual seats were left empty for us. Mine next to Myria Nicole, and Jake's next to Peter Kavinsky. 

Raina Brielle and Lenae Ferguson both smile at me as I sit down.

"Hey, guys," Lenae says. "How was the training?" 

"Pretty good," I reply, not wanting to know how they knew. "It hardly hurts to fight anymore." 

"How'd you bribe Jake into letting you practice on him?" Raina asks. 

"I have no idea," Jake answers for me. 

Raina laughs. 

"What have you guys been up to?" I ask them. 

"Funny story, actually," Lenae says, glancing at Myria. 

"The guys wanted to ride the horses around the ranch," Myria explains in her amazing British accent. "Something about wanting to pretend they were cowboys and Indians? I don't know, it was something like that." 

Peter makes a face. "When you put it like that, it sounds so dumb." 

"It is," Raina rolls her eyes. 

"But anyway, they couldn't figure out how to saddle the horses when they got to the stables. The poor horses weren't sure what they were trying to do to them, so they wouldn't cooperate, either. Even the normally nice and gentle mares were acting up. But who could blame them?" 

"Poor Cayenne," I chuckle. 

Cayenne was my first real friend when I came to the ranch. He was typically a wild mustang at heart, but he'd taken really well to me. It was spending time with him that really brought me closer to Jake. 

"Eventually, Cayenne ended up running out of the stables, so the boys had to chase after him and bring him back. He ran all around the ranch. We were afraid he'd run all the way to the borders of the ranch and get caught in the barbwire fence. But, luckily, Peter grabbed the rope attached to Cayenne's halter and he was fine. They brought him back to the stables and put him back in his stall." 

"But by that time, they were so tired out, they didn't have the energy to ride anymore," Lenae grins. 

"It was those horses," Alex Johnson protests. "They were the ones who wouldn't cooperate and then just bolted away." 

"Because you couldn't fit them with the saddle properly," Myria rolls her eyes. 

"Okay, I'll admit I'm not an expert high-class rider like you are. But those things are complicated!" 

"Sounds like you had a lot of excitement this afternoon," I look at them. "Oh, by the way, where's Crystal?" 

"She's talking with Falcon," Lenae tells me. 

"What about?" 

"No idea. But they've been talking for probably an hour now." 

"Hmm, that's odd." I can't really figure out why my foster mom would be speaking with the head coordinator of the secret agency protecting us. I don't think it's because she wants to become an agent. She's more of a hippy, believing in peace and non-violence and all that. 

Actually, maybe that's it. Ever since she learned the truth about my powers and all the times we fought Rave, she's been against the whole idea of teenagers fighting bad guys. I know it's to protect me, but I can handle myself. She just doesn't see that. 

Sure, I couldn't handle myself when I got stabbed, but look how I've recovered. Plus, my team has attacked Rave not once but twice, and both times we've all survived. We're stronger than people may think. We can take care of ourselves. 

"It's probably nothing," Jake says to me. As if he has mind-reading powers instead of Lenae. 

I nod. "I know. It's no use worrying about it." 

If only I actually believed that. 

"Hey, guys, did you hear John say he has a training exercise set up for all of us, and he's going to show it to us this week?" 

I look at Raina. "Really?" 

She nods. "He said it's a test mainly for our powers, and it's focused on all our powers, not just one. He wants to start training with all of us together from now on, since we've been doing all these missions together, anyway." 

"Smart," Peter says. 

"That reminds me of a new joke I came up with," Alex says. 

We all automatically groan. 

"Please no," Lenae pleads. 

"I can't take one right now," Peter puts his head in his hands. 

"It's quick, don't worry. Here it goes: How do you make a tissue dance?" 

"How," I say. 

"You put a little boogey in it." 

"That's disgusting," Myria wrinkles her nose. Leave it to a sophisticated British girl to tell him it's disgusting. 

"It's actually kind of funny, at least a little bit," I admit. 

"You're crazy," she says. 

"I got more," Alex says. 

"Oh no," Raina groans. 

"Have you heard of the movie 'Constipation?' It hasn't come out yet." 

"Ew," says Myria. 

"Want to hear a joke?" 

"Not a gross one." 

"'-Peter Kavinsky.'" 

"Hey!" 

"What did the banana say to the orange?" 

"I don't think I'll ever guess in a million years," Raina says. 

"Nothing. Bananas can't talk." 

"And thank goodness that they don't," I shudder. "That would be creepy." 

"Like, mega-creepy," Peter says. "Just imagine, eating one in the kitchen, then all of a sudden it talks to you." 

"Ew, ew, ew," Myria stands up. "This is getting too disgusting. I'm leaving." 

"Where are you going?" I ask. 

"To get some Sprite and move to a different table. I can't handle you guys right now. Or ever." 

I smile. "Suit yourself." 

But five minutes later, she's right back with us.