KiP - Chapter Two: The Plan

I lead Braken up two flights of stairs, to a landing that had another door and a ladder that went almost all the way up to the ceiling.
"Okay, it's up the ladder from here," Kendra was explaining, when Ari looked up obviously terrified she said, "There is a place right through the door where you can't be seen, but you'll have perfect view of this landing and the stairs. Just call for Cera and I if people come, we've spent a lot of time up here, so, no one will think it's strange."
Ari swallowed, and nodded in relief.
"You guys go up first," I said, nudging the group towards the ladder, "We'll be the last ones because we're actually allowed to be here, if someone comes and you're up there, run quietly onto the catwalk and Kendra and I will get rid of them, okay?"
They nodded and Jenna took to the ladder, followed by Lena, and then Jeff. Braken, who was still standing next to me, took a deep breath.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
He nodded, and turned to look at me, "I'm not going to die up there am I?"
"Not if you follow our. . .directions," I answered, playfully, "but there's always a chance."
I heard the downstairs door slam and shot Kendra a panicked look, she nodded and ran down the stairs. I turned back to Braken, "Get climbing, we can't have you seen up here."
"Right," he said, looking around as we heard Kendra's voice saying 'Anything else I can do?', "I just have to. . ."
Everything had been moving so fast in the last forty-five minutes. I hadn't totally adjusted to Cera's group - I liked their lifestyle, but it's not something I was going to be able to change in just twenty minutes. To you the truth, the idea of the vents terrified me. I remember feeling like I was going to die, and that I had to hurry and act - because it felt like this was my last chance.
When you get that 'end-of-the-world' feeling, for me anyway, a list just starts forming inside your mind - like the opposite of a bucket list, listing all the things you wish you had done. Telling Cera how I felt about her was at the top of this particular list. Before today, the possibility would never have even entered my head, all the fear of getting close to new people and all had been keeping me from expressing myself. Now it didn't seem to matter because I was going to die up there anyway, right? What did I have to lose?
Knowing that if I didn't act fast, the opportunity might pass me by forever, I searched for the right words to say, and, of course, came up blank - something Cera couldn't think of anything else - and it was a solution to my current problem - a really outrageous solution but a solution all the same. Before I had time to think it through, I did it; pulled her in, and kissed her on the mouth. I broke it quickly, whispered "Thanks" and immediately turned and mounted the ladder, mentally yelling at myself as I climbed. It sounded something like this:
Insane self: It had seemed like a good idea, how else was I going to express all I felt I needed to so quickly?
Sane self: Good idea?! I just barely, as in about an hour ago, started talking to her! What if I scared her away by moving too fast?
Insane self: This is Cera for goodness's sake! She wouldn't be scared! Besides, I would have totally botched up anything I would have tried to say. If she doesn't feel the same way, I can deal with it, so long as I told her. She won't hate me, and I never would have been able to hold it all in.
My insane self was actually making more and more sense as I reached the top of the ladder. I crawled onto the metal landing right as Cera called out:
"Kendra? Come on! Stop talking, we've got work to do!"
"I'll be right there," Kendra answered, signaling that there was no real problem, before turning back to her quarry. "Well, if you'll excuse me, please."
I watched as Kendra came running up the stairs and addressed Cera.
"It was just the stupid dance company director," she said furiously. "I am so tired of her. 'You're doing this wrong! You're doing that wrong! Why aren't you doing what I asked?' MAYBE if they realized that, first of all, we don't have smart lights so half of her demands are IMPOSSIBLE, second of all, I'm doing everything I FREAKING CAN. IF SHE THINKS SHE CAN DO A BETTER JOB, BE MY GUEST!"
"They're idiots and we all know it," Cera said, in a characteristic sarcastic, yet comforting tone. "You should just leave them to it, see how they like the job."
"Yeah, the only thing that was keeping me from quitting was the fact that I was getting paid," Kendra said, sighing as she turned to climb the ladder, "but apparently I don't get even THAT anymore. I told her I quit (along with a few suggestions as to where to put the extra money), which didn't seem to make her too happy, but guess what! I don't care!! I've got a new project! You seem extra excited about this - I always thought you were a bit weird about your books."
"Yeah, well," Cera said offhandedly, "Everyone has their quirks."
"Oh?" Kendra asked.
From my perch on the metal landing, I saw Cera's face turn bright red, she glanced up toward me, and hesitated before saying, "It feels great to finally stick up to the Knowers."
"You aren't telling me everything," Kendra accused.
"I'm pretty sure you already know anyway," Cera muttered darkly. "You can always tell when I'm hiding something."
Kendra laughed from her perch, half way up the ladder, and Cera mounted the ladder.
I gripped the ladder and began to heave myself up, fully concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I didn't want to think about Braken and - well, you know. I could feel the awed happiness flowing through my veins, because no one knows how long I've been waiting, praying for something to happen. I just couldn't ignore the confusion bubbling over the happiness in every possible way. I couldn't place it exactly, but I felt bad about it. My sister was my comfort - my memories of her still supply a lot of it for me, it just felt like I was replacing her by letting Braken be that source. I don't talk about it ever, because I lost someone I was closer to than even my sister. Everyone I knew had had to go through him - it'd been so long I wasn't sure what he would think of Braken. His opinion meant everything to me, even if he wasn't there to supply it, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him. By the time I reached the top of the ladder I was so deep into this thought process that I wasn't registering any if my surroundings at all. This, unfortunately, meant that I wasn't really aware of reaching the top of the ladder.
I misplaced my foot, and was yanked back to reality as my arm flailed trying to find something for my hand to grip, thus keeping me from falling to a very painful death. My footing gave way right as I managed to grab the edge of the metal landing that led to the catwalk. I had somehow managed not to scream - looking down as I was dangling there almost made me, though.
"Um. . .guys? I could use a little help here."
Lena came rushing toward the ladder, saw me hanging (for dear life, I'd like to mention) and collapsed in laughter. I was about to start shouting about the near death experience I was in the middle of, when the others came over to find the source of the laughter. Jenna joined Lena on the floor, and Braken and Jeff just kind of stared; my fingers began to slip.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure this must be hysterical from YOUR point of view," I said, trying to maintain my grip on the metal edge, "but I'M kind of hanging, quite literally, between life and death here."
Kendra came out to the landing, and offered her hand to me as soon as she realized the slight predicament I was in. "Take my hand, keep hold with your other, and I'll guide you to the ladder," she ordered.
I hesitated, not trusting my own arm strength to keep me aloft. I was contemplating the long drop to death, when Braken came forward, leaned down and grabbed my other arm.
"We won't let you fall," he said.
I gave Kendra my other hand, and they lifted me toward the ladder, letting my feet get a hold of the rungs before dropping my hands to the frame. I climbed up, and embraced Kendra, and then hugged Braken.
"Thanks."
Then she turned to Kendra and laughed, "That's one near-death-experience today. Think I can break the record?"
"What's the record?" Sheri made the mistake of asking.
"Ten," Kendra answered simply.
Sheri paled considerably.
"It's nothing to worry about if you follow our directions exactly," Cera explained. "Speaking of which, follow this landing onto the catwalk, Kendra will lead, and I'll bring up the rear."
Kendra nodded and walked out onto the catwalk, followed by our battalion: Jenna, Sheri, Lori, Lena, Jeff, me, then Cera. We dodged around support bars and under water pipes until Kendra came to a stop at the very end, where you could literally go no further - unless you had some sort of twisted death wish, and it was starting to seem like that's what this plan really was. My eyes weren't the only ones staring at Kendra, asking what was next. As if to answer our unspoken question, she nimbly hopped over the guard rail, and rested her feet on a three-inch thick support bar that stretched from the catwalk to a gigantic metal vent, which was almost taller than she was. I watched in awe, as she shimmied up a diagonal support bar and climbed onto the vent. She then scooted down about two feet, and ushered Jenna forward.
Breathing deeply, Jenna was careful to copy Kendra's actions exactly, but instead of sliding down, she went all the way over. Sheri followed eagerly, Lori practically jumped across to the vent, and Lena quietly accepted Cera's hand for support until she made it across the small support beam.
I looked over the edge of the catwalk as Jeff nimbly followed the girls, and then quickly erased what looked like at least a hundred foot drop from my mind. I jumped the bar, and steadied my footing while still facing Cera ans the catwalk. Right as Kendra said, "Spread out your weight so the vent doesn't cave in!" Cera stretched her hand out and placed it on mine, which was still clutching the metal guard rail.
"Be careful," she whispered.
Shoving all the tension and fear out of my mind, I gave her what I hoped was a determined nod and turned to the vent, mounted it, and dropped myself over the edge, onto an adjacent vent. Looking around, I watched Kendra slide down, and take the lead again. Cera followed, close after, feet first.
I waited for Kendra to get over, marveling in the fact that this idea had a legitimate chance. The vents were a techie secret; an old and novel tradition. The beauty of it is, unless you were a techie, you didn't know they existed, so the Knowers wouldn't be able to find us unless they added a "Knower of Techies" to the council. This was highly unlikely, seeing as most people (some actors/stage performers included) don't realize the importance of what we do. It is, quite literally, an art.
Pushing myself forward, I directed my feet to the metal support that I could use to access the adjacent vent. They worked their way down, pulling my body out vertically, popping my back in all the right places. I bent my neck awkwardly to miss the beautiful sensation of my forehead connecting hardly with the cold and very solid metal rafters, and straightened out on the support, ready to take the step to the next vent. I must have hesitated, because Braken was holding his hand out, like the footmen would in old movies, helping the Ladies out of their carriages. I wanted to kick myself for touching his hand earlier - I don't know what I was thinking, I'm just a teenager, okay?
Forcing the heat from my cheeks, I took it in mine and stepped to our precarious perch. I ushered him forward, and without dropping my hand, he followed Kendra's lead. We came to a thick . . . thick . . . well, wormy tube, and I put my hand on it, breathing a sigh of relief when it was cool to the touch.
"Kendra, its air conditioning today, thank heaven!" I called in a loud whisper.
"I would not be here otherwise," she answered with a laugh.
"Are the tools still here?"
I heard the clank of the metal trapdoor, which lead into the vent, hitting the wall and a couple of people gasping 'Oh!' as the air current hit them. "Yeup! I'm going in," she answered, holding out a flashlight, "You'll hold the light as usual?"
"Yeup," I answered taking the flashlight and attaching the cord to my wrist, "Okay, you guys follow her, I'll be down last."
My friends all stared at me, solemnly nodding, as if they were staring death in the face. I didn't see the issue, it's just a metal box suspended 200 feet off the ground . . . Okay, maybe I'm the one with the problem, but I'd been down a million times without dying.
I came forward, opened the second trap door, and turned the flashlight on, illuminating the seemingly bottomless pit that was the vent. Kendra slid in her door, and went right, Lena slid in after, then Jeff, Lori, Sheri, and Jenna. I waved Braken over, and he crawled to the door. Surprisingly, he stuck his head in first, obviously looking around. When he reappeared, his eyes connected directly to mine.
"Cera, sorry if I was out of line back there. I just had to tell you how I felt. I'd talked myself into a state of fear, I just felt like that was my chance, and I wouldn't ever get another one."
"It was. . .it certainly caught me off guard," I said, shrugging - hoping that made it look as if it hadn't been that big of a deal to me - "What kept you from telling me earlier?" I couldn't help asking, even if I thought I already knew the answer.
"Well, after not knowing my dad and losing Cam, I didn't want to get attached to someone else that could be taken. That was my excuse, and I'm not pretending that I've been able to change my mind set in the last twenty minutes, but I like the way you think. I like being with you, hanging out like this, because you've been in the same spot smiling on my darkest days, even if they were still horrible, I had a little bit of light to focus on," he said slowly. "I just didn't want all of that to go to waste if one of us was. . . well, taken."
"And if neither of us is taken?"
"I'm going to hope that I don't screw it up," he answered, attempting a brave smile.
"Are you guys coming?" Kendra's voice carried on the current pulsing through the vent.
"Yes!" Cera called, before she turned back to me, smiling awkwardly, "We'll finish this conversation later, okay?"
"Yeah," I answered sheepishly.
"I want to finish it, Braken, I promise," she said, making sure she was staring into my eyes, "It's just a rather awkward situation: where we are, who we're with, and so on."
Reassured, I nodded. I was absolutely elated, and horribly confused. I could have sworn I saw quilt in her eye before she turned to look back the way we came, supposedly making sure we weren't being followed. I decided to maintain a smile, and slid down into the vent.
"Braken, will you slide that tool box under the hole?" she asked from on top of the vent, pointing with the flashlight.
"Sure," I answered, shoving the box with my foot, wondering if she was going to pretend that what just happened didn't.Her feet come out of the ceiling, touched the box, and then she bent down and stepped off the box. "The first time I came in I almost got stuck down here because I have absolutely no upper-arm strength at all. I got out, but I couldn't bend my back for a month, because I bruised it on the metal lip around the edge of the trap-doors. I brought that box up here so I could get up and down easier."
"That must have been quite a challenge," I laughed, letting her take the lead.
"Oh believe me, it was!" she said, holding the light aloft. She was acknowledging our confrontation with the gentle tone - not being too obvious about it. "That thing weighs so much! Of course, I only thought to take the tools out AFTER I got it up here!"
We reached the group, where the vent angled out making it wider, and Kendra looked to Cera for approval. Cera nodded and tossed Kendra the large end of a tape measure, holding onto the other end.
"Six feet across here, probably three feet in the smaller section," Kendra reported.
"Everybody is okay with this, right?" Cera asked. "We'll be building two by two by three feet boxes to stack the books in. They'll fit up here nicely."
"Those trap-doors were barely a foot thick, how will we get the boxes down here?" Lena asked.
"We'll bring as many one by two and one by three boards of plywood necessary, then attach them to two by fours to make the boxes," Kendra explained.
"Works for me," Jenna said with an approving glance around the vent, "but I do not want to climbed up here over and over again."
"Yeah, we're going to have a pulley type system set up in the tormentor (or piano room), it will be right next to the trap-doors up here."
"So when are we going to start?" Jeff asked.
"Um. . .now," Kendra said, "They're coming for the books tomorrow so we have to get this done today."
"What about class?" Lena asked.
"You can go if you want," Cera said, "but this is a little more important to me."
"Well. . .if it was anything else, and if I had a test, I would leave, but I'll be here all day if necessary."
"Me too," I said, avoiding Cera's eye.
"Me third," said Jenna with a chuckle.
"Fourth," Jeff exclaimed, raising his hand.
"Well, you know I'm in," Lori and Sheri said at the same time.
"I'll stay and help too," Kendra said, turning to look at Cera, "If I can keep a couple of books up here. (Cera nodded) How do you want to split this up?"
"We'll need someone cutting the wood, someone bringing and loading the wood on the pulley, someone on top unloading the wood, and someone constructing the boxes down here."
"Okay, well I think there should be two people, maybe you and Braken, constructing the boxes," Kendra said. "I'll go down and cut the wood, and two people, probably Jeff and Lori, taking the wood from the shop to the tormentor. We're still forgetting the whole point, someone has to go and get the books."
"That would definitely be me," Lena said, "Sheri and Jenna can pull and unload the wood, and Ari will come with me."
"That's okay with everyone?" Cera asked.
I nodded, and everyone else murmured their assent.
"Sheri, come down with me, and I'll give you a bag with tools for Braken and Cera, and a rope for the pulley," Kendra instructed. "Cera - you, Braken, and Jenna wait up here, help Sheri set the pulley up, then start on the boxes."
"Sounds good," Cera nodded.
"And break!" Kendra said laughing, and began to lead the way back.
We walked up to the trap-doors, and Cera climbed up first, followed by Sheri and Lena. Then Kendra kicked the box out of the way before heaving herself out. Jenna climbed out, followed closely by Lori, Jeff, and then me.
"Remember, be extremely quiet while you're up here," Kendra whispered, leading the battalion back to the cat walk.
"Oh my gosh," Jenna gushed in a whisper, "this is so awesome! It's exactly like The Barcode Rebellion! Except those stupid Know-it-alls aren't trying to put barcodes on us. . .yet."
Cera shivered, "Ew. . .don't say that!"
Don't start thinking I'm a mental case, you'd shudder at the idea if you knew what it was.
"What's The Barcode Rebellion?" Braken asked.
"It's about this girl that lives in a time where, when you turn sixteen, you get the barcode tattoo," I explained in an ominous voice.
"Okaaay, and that scares you because. . . . ?" Braken asked, obviously trying not to laugh.
"The barcode stores all of your personal information," I explained, "like your criminal record, bank accounts, drivers license, birth certificate, everything about you. And they put these sensors at the doors of every building, excepting people's homes, which read the barcode instantly. They had access to all your personal data, and they knew where you were 100% of the time."
"Okay, I'm starting to see your point," Braken said, nodding.
"The first time I read them, I drew a barcode on my arm," Jenna said laughing. "I creeped myself out so badly!"
"Wow, how come that doesn't suprise me?" Braken asked laughing.
"Geez, you guys are loud!" Sheri whispered as she slid down the dip in the vent, lugging a heavy looking bag behind her. "Okay, there's a rope in here that we're supposed to toss over the pipes, where they'll attach it to the bucket. I also have two drills, and a box of screws for Braken and Cera."
"Cool, hand one end of the rope here," I said. "I'll tie a knot in it so we can chuck it over the pipes and it will be weighted enough to fall. Can you tie the other end to that support, Braken?"
"Sure," he smiled and took the other end from Sheri.
"Won't that defeat the purpose? We're supposed to be able to pull it up," Jenna said.
"We're tying it down so we don't drop the whole rope on accident," I explained.
"Are you guys ready yet?" Lori called from the ground.
I chucked the rope up over the pipes in answer.
"Ow, Cera!" she mumbled as the knotted rope hit her. I could do with a little warning next time, please!"
"Yeah, yeah," I called, "start sending stuff up!"
"One second! This knot of yours is huge!" she complained.
"Okay, fine!" I said sarcastically. "Just hurry!" I turned to Braken, "Down we go!"
"Me first," he called, and slid into the vent.
I followed after he moved the box under the hole, and then Sheri handed us the drills and screws. I sat down leaning my back against the vent wall, waiting for more supplies to arrive via bucket, and Braken situated himself across from me. I didn't know what exactly made me be so short with him earlier. I was feelign kind of guilty, because of the comfort I took from his presence and the new-found fact that he cared, when before the strongest sense of comfort had been my sister, and when she wasn't there my cousin was. They disappeared on the same day, and it literally almost tore me to shreds. Everyone knew about my sister, but I haven't ever told anyone about my cousin. He was my role model and I couldn't function straight when I was even thinking about him. It felt like I was replacing them, but I was also extremely happy to have that comfort back, and he liked me back. All of that swishing around in my head irritated me because I couldn't think straight enough to work my way though it - maybe that's why I was confused.
"So, Harry Potter is your favortie book, out of everything you've ever read," he said conversationally. "What do you like about it?"

"You're sure you want to start this subject?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because I could go on for hours."
"Well, yeah," he laughed, "we'll be here for a while."
"You have a point," I said taking a deep breath. "Well, J.K. Rowling just has the most amazing writing style! It pulls you in, like you're standing right there in the middle of one of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's conversations! It's such an entertaining plot, and they are so beautifully planned out. It is so awesome how she barely mentions one little thing in an earlier book, and the plot of a later book will hinge on its existence!"
"Oh yeah?" he challenged, and I rubbed my hands together excitedly.
"Yeah!" I exclaimed. "You know the Hand of Glory, and the opal necklace from the sixth book?" He nodded. "They're both mentioned in the second book," I said, laughing at his look of disbelief, "when Harry ends up in Borgin and Brukes, you see both on display, along with the Vanishing Cabinet."
"Seriously?" he asked, surprised. "I never noticed!"
"And she also introduces the Horcruxes in the second one with the diary," I said happily.
"Which is the whole basis of the sixth and seventh books," Braken finished. "Wow, I never realized."
"And, the Invisibility Cloak," I pointed out. "He gets it as a present int eh first, and it's a key point in the seventh. All of that aside, though I especially like them because, yes, there are twists you don't expect, people die, but it generally works out how you want it to in the end."
"Heads!" came Jena's warning, and plywood fell out of the ceiling, followed by some two by fours.
"Thanks!" we replied, and began hauling the wood to the wider part of the vent.
She laid the 2x4s out evenly spaced, and I set the plywood on top, with no cracks between the boards.
"So you don't have a favorite book?" she asked, doubt lacing every syllable.
"No, I don't read enough to think about it," I answered honestly. "I spend too much time on my piano or guitar. I don't really drum anymore though."
"Why not?" she asked. "We had so much fun in that class in Jr. High! And you were, by far, the best marimba player I'd ever seen!"
"Yeah, that was a lot of fun," I agreed, smiling when I remembered how my friends and I had hung out in the practice rooms every other day. "I loved it all, I just like the piano and guitar more."
"Why?"
"It's easier to express myself on the piano and guitar, because they're not always loud," I answered thoughtfully. "It's easier to write songs on them too."
"You write songs!?" she exclaimed, picking up a drill and some screws, and handing them to me. "I didn't even know!"
"It's mostly just playing around with cords," I said offhandedly, shrugging.
"Oh you're so modest! I bet they're amazing songs! I wish I had musical talent beyond finding middle C."
"Oh you can't be that bad," I said, "haven't you been taking lessons since you were a kid?"
"Yeah," she answered, laughing a little as she jammed a screw into the plywood and began drilling it down through the slab and into the 2x4. "I never practiced, it wasn't ever my thing."
"Oh?" I asked, copying her actions.
"I never liked taking the time to sit down and fully learn the song," she answered as she picked up another screw. "Took too much patience, and it was never a song I wanted to learn, always those stupid workbook songs. Then I started teching and it took over my life, in a good way though. I just love doing it, I'm much more of a hands-on person." She grabbed the plywood square and set it on top of four up right 2x4s and began drilling down into those.
"So you would have ended up doing something like this either way?" I asked.
"Probably," she said with an offhanded shrug. "I'm just kind of a happy-go-lucky person. I do whatever I feel like. Except when I have the urge to shoot someone, I can usually resist that particular feeling."
"Usually? What happens when you don't?" I asked, being sarcastically scared.
She smiled her signature maniacal smile and replied just as sarcastically, "I would rather not talk about it. I don't want to give you nightmares."
"Okay. . ." I answered, laughing.
"Heads!" Jenna's voice rang through the vent and we heard the thump of wood.
"I'll be right back," shse said and ran off down the vent.
I watched her leave, and, even with how confused I was, I couldn't help the sigh that escaped my lips.
I hated running in the opposite direction from him. I just got so much comfort by talking to him, conversation was easier than it was withanyone else - he was able to distract me; there was no pressure to say that right thing. We just meshed well.
I really liked the small feeling that she cared too, I had gotten that much from watching her let alone being around her. It was such a relief because I had been terrified that I would get up the courage to do what I did, and she wouldn't feel the same way, or she'd be too scared. I was so relieved, but confused, and, then again, happy almost like I was -
It was great to have someone to confide in again. His hand on mine had given me hope, and comfort, like my sister and cousin had done before. Bending over to pick up the wood, I noticed little drops of water on the two by fours on top of the pile. My hand flew to my face and I realized that I had been crying, tears of relief. I was surprised, elated, and more than a little confused, almost like I was -
-in love.
- in love.

* * * * *

She came back with supplies, a surprisingly red face and slightly puffy eyes. She smiled when she turned the corner, so, as I was unloading her arms, I decided not to ask any questions. We worked for what felt like days, but were merely hours, talking about this and that. I learned that she liked any kind of rock n' roll, could eat anytihng edible, her favorite class was Stage Tech, and, though she adored reading and writing, English - oh, I meant 'Diction' - was her least favorite.

I heard the bells for second and third periods, and then beginning and end of lunch, but we kept building. About ten minutes after the final dismissal bell rang, Cera was drilling the last screw into the last box when Lena came down the vent cradling about ten books in her arms.

"What took you so long?" Cera asked, rushing up and grabbing some of the books.

"I don't think you know how many books you alone have," Lena said sarcastically, "let alone all of ours combined."

"You have a point," Cera laughed.

"Psh, I always have a point," Lena replied.

Cera stuck her tongue out at her, bringing her hands to a triangle over her head.

"Kendra and the others are out at my car getting books and bringing them to the bucket, I'm here to ferry them from the trap-doors to here," Lena continued, ignoring Cera's mockery of her constant point.

"Okay, we'll load them," I said. "Did you get tham all?"

"Barely," Lena said seriously, "I put a blanket down on the floor of the back seat, and in my trunk, so they're filled to the brim; Ari had to sacrifice her foot space, and hold at least ten of them on her lap."

I looked around at the seven boxes we built, "You guys think this will be enough?"

"Yes," Cera said, as Lena bent down and began placing the books in one of the boxes, "we're just going to stack them from corner to corner."

Lena reappeared when Jenna's loud voice rang through the vents, "Lena! More books!"

"Thankfully, once you're in the vents its harder to be heard," Cera mumbled as she got down to put the books she had taken from Lena into the box.

"I'll be right back," Lena said, turning down the vent.

I waved as she rushed back down the vent, and then turned to Braken. "One of us should get in the box, so that we can keep it organized," I said. "Since I'm OCD about my books, I'll go in, you can take them from Lena and hand them down."

"Okay, sure," he said, and I crawled into the box, leaving my legs hanging out from the knee down, he leaned against the vent wall, "What are you going to do after this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you just going to leave the books here, are you going to do more against the Knowers?"

"I plan on coming up at least once a week," I said after some thought. "They're not worth saving if I never read them again. As far as further, for lack of a better word, rebellion, I'm going to wing it."

"Something like this?" he asked suprised.

"Well, there is nothing else bothering me that I can do anything about," I answered logically, "and there is the fact that we're going against them without them Knowing. It's rather satisfying."

"You have a point," he said, straightening out as much as possible, and grabbing more books from Lena.

"These are all Jenna's," she said, "we'll write her name on this box once they send up a marker."

"Okay, we'll remember," I answered, as Braken handed me the books.

I stacked them neatly, setting some favorite titles (such as Maximum Ride, and Fablehaven) off to the side so that they would be easier to get a hold of.

Another hour and a half later, we had loaded all the books, and I learned that Braken was a major sports fan: he played lacrosse, and skateboarded (I already knew he was on the track team). All in all, though, his true passion was music. He spent his free time on the piano, writing his own songs, and then coming up with guitar accompaniments. He confessed that he began playing because his mom signed him up for lessons, which he took, but didn't like at all. He, however, practiced diligently, and learned to love it, especially since the music seemed to make his mom slightly happier. Music took root as his form of self expression, and now he doesn't know where he'd be without it.

"Could I maybe bring my music up here for safe keeping?" he asked as we were walking back to the trap-doors.

"You should," I answered, thinking of how much it meant to him. "They'll probably throw your sheet music in with the books."

He shuddered, "I can't let that happen."

"I think you finally get what we've been doing today," I said, laughing.

In my head, I saw my music - written by true masterminds like Jon Schmidt and David Lanz - sitting on the piano where I left them yesterday. I cringed as I saw the Elite grabbing them and throwing them in a bag like any old piece of garbage.

"Braken," she said consolingly, as she climbed up from the tool box. It sounded like she meant to say more, so I nudged the box out of the way and heaved myself up out of the vent. When I emerged into the normal air of the school, I realized how mad I was as the heat on my face overwhelmed me.

Cera slid her hand into mine, "We're not going to let them take any of it, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," I answered, taking a huge amount of confused comfort from the fact that she was standing there, next to me. I felt the anger subside as she smiled and lead me on, down the vent and back to the cat walk.

I went frist and she used my hand as support to get across the metal support beam. We had to crawl single file back to the ladder, which I insisted on going down first, "We can't have you falling again."

"What is you going first going to do to prevent that?" she asked as I began descending the ladder.

"Down there," I explained, praying that this didn't sound too cheesey, "I can do my best to catch you."

Ah well, I tried.

Thankfully, she smiled, but only waited until I was half way down the ladder to begin descending herself.

"Would you too love birds hurry up?!" Kendra called from the bottom of the stairs.

"If we're too slow for you, you can just leave," Cera called back sarcastically as she dismounted the ladder.

"Ugh . . . just hurry! I need a ride home!"

Cera laughed and started down the stairs. Kendra, who was apparently waiting at the bottom of the stairs, rushed us out the door.

"Could I get a ride too?" Ari asked, as she came out of the bathroom.

"Sure," Cera said, dismissively, "I just filled up yesterday."

"Me too?" I asked, fighting to keep the sappy hopeful tone out of my voice.

"Yeah, of course," she said. "I hope you don't mind the mess it is."

"How messy is it?" Kendra asked.

Ari laughed and Cera glared at her as we slammed through the doors.

"I get a ride from her every morning, let me tell you," Ari said between giggles, "it's pretty bad."

"Oh?" I asked, smiling as Cera's face began to turn red.

"In Cera language, 'back seat' means 'trash can,'" Ari explained.

"I can throw it all in the trunk," Cera grumbled, jabbing the alarm button on her key remote as her eyes scanned the parking lot. A really beat-up old car in the center of the parking lot light up, and the horn blared across the entire campus, I swear. We all walked up to it and, only when the doors were unlocked, Cera turned the alarm off. She popped the trunk open, threw her backpack in, and then wrenched open the back passenger door, which had a huge dent in it. She dove in, head first, and then reemerged, her arms laden with a take-out box, a bundle of shredded looking paper, one or two notebooks, and a cup. She threw them unceremoniously into the trunk, and went back for more. I went over to the other side, opened the door and began picking my way through the mess, finding sweaters, wrappers, and old pretzel bags. I draped the sweaters over the passenger seat back, and began ferrying the rest to the trunk while Ari and Kendra watched.

I was slightly embarrassed: the guy I liked for ages, now kind of, sort of, loved, was picking his way though the garbage I had piled up in the back seat. This boy had guts, skipping class all day in utter rebellion from our deranged and very dangerous govenors, kissing me in the tech booth, and now braving the horrors of my personal garbage can. I am ashamed to admit that it took each of us a grand total of four trips to make the back seat suitable for passengers.

"Okay," I said, "I think we're good. You guys can get in now."

Smiling, Braken dodged around the car, beating Kendra and Ari in the mad rush to the passenger seat. He slid into the seat, obviously suppressing a chuckle, as Kendra slid into the seat, and put on her seatbelt, acting as if there hadn't just been five to six inches of garbage in that exact spot. Ari stood outside the car a few more seconds, then, breathing deeply, she slid in with disgust written clearly all over her expression.

"We cleaned it out, Ari, it isn't that bad," I said, sliding into my seat, Kendra shrugged, and Ari shot me her most menacing death glare. I smiled back as I jammed my keys into the ignition.

The sound system came on, blaring Jon Schmidt's version of 'Can't Help Falling In Love With You." Braken and I made eye-contact, his face reddened, naturally, but he didn't break the gaze. I felt my mouth stretch into a smile, and then I heard Ari cough in an obvious, not-so-obvious way, which snapped me out of my mini-trance. I grabbed the gear shift, pulled it into drive, and set my foot lightly on the gas pedal.

Kendra lived furthest away from my neighboorhood so I followed the winding road to her house, participating in the conversation that revolved around books tha thad been turned into movies (most of this conversation consisted of the four of us bad-mouthign the directors, for various die-hard-fan reasons). I pulled into her driveway and Kendra hopped out of the car with a bright smile and an entirely overenthusiastic wave.

We all returned the wave, I pulled out of the driveway and the conversation turned to the piano. Braken and Ari got into all the technical stuff like cords, minor and major, triads and a whole lot of other stuff I don't even know the names of. All I could do was sit there and agree that 'that song' was, in fact, one of the best songs ever played on a piano, when I recognized the title.

We reached Ari's house, and I waved as she departed with a loud, and very high pitched, "I love you Cera! See you guys later!"

I backed out of her driveway, and began to follow the back street that led ot the neighborhood that Braken and I lived in.

"Cera, can I ask you something?" Braken said quietly.

"Sure," I said nonchalantly.

"Up on the vents, you said we'd talk later," he began awkwardly, "so can you explain something to me now?"

"Anything," I answered, builing up smart sounding, reasonable answers in my head.

"Was that kiss out of place?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well after, you sounded annoyed," he explained hastily. "I was just hoping I didn't. . .do the wrong thing."

"I wasn't annoyed," I answered, "in all honesty, it scared me." I saw his eyes widen in shock and forced myself to supress a grin. " was evstatic, because the possibility of being with you is a dream I never thought would come true," I continued when my mouth decided it couldn't stay shut, "but I was confused by my guilt. I can't help thinking that by allowing this all to happen would be the same as replacing my . . . sister."

His mouth open and closed, soundlessly expressing the shock that was still strong in his eyes.

"I always looked to her for comfort," I admitted, there was no holding back now. "She was always the one holding my hand, rubbing my back, and wiping my tears. It felt so good today before school, when you accidentally rested your hand on mine, just because I remembered that that is how she used to do it. It brought back my memories of that it was like to have that outlet, and I instantly thought of you as the source."

"And so by being with me," he summarized slowly, "you'd be replacing your sister?"

"Well that is what I thought," I answered, hitting the turn signal to turn onto our street, "but then I remembered what I told you before school. It was something like '. . .if the people that have been taken were here with us, they wouldnt' want us to be sad. They would like us to remember them, but they wouldn't want us to completely give up in life since they're gone!' I took my own advice and decided that she would want me to have another source of comfort, instead of being without one. Would she have bothered doing it otherwise? Still, that being said, I can't let go of her and . . . my - well I just feel like that's what I need to do to let this work."

He didn't say anything, but I saw the relief was over his face in an overly content smile, and the pure happiness in his eyes. I couldn't help but smile as I pulled into his driveway, jumping at a sharp tap! on my windshield. I couldn't keep my smile from widening when the first was followed by many more taps, as the clouds decided to empty their burdens on us.

"Have you ever noticed how the rain depresses most people?" Braken asked, the overly content smile still on his face.

"I don't usually associate with most people," I retorted smiling. "It's refreshing, and the air always smells so good after!"

"You have a point," he chuckled, gripping the door handle, "I have one more question though."

"Yes?"

"I want to talk to my mom, and it would be easier for me if you were there. . . .-"

"Right now?" I asked, unable to hide the suprise from my tone.

"Well, if you donm't want to, I under-"

"No, I want to," she said hurriedly, "I just didn't expect that to be your question. I would love to come if it will help."

"It most definitly would," I answered.

She smiled, and then practically jumped out of the car and into the rain. I turned, got out of the car, and then couldn't supress my laughter as I saw Cera with her arms out, and neck back, catching the rain in her open mouth. She heard me laugh, and smiled, but continued catching rain. I walked over and took one of her outstreched hands in one of mine, she relaxed her arms, caught a few more drops, and then straightened her neck out.

I led her up to my front door, and pushed it open, revealing the deep forest greens and the chocolate browns of my living room. Cera stepped in, after ringing out her hair on the porch, and slid of her shoes, eyeing the large leather couch all the while. When she finished I led her into the living room, and relished the sigh of peace that overcame her features as she sank into the heavily padded cushions.

"Comfortable?" I asked.

"Oh yes!" she said, as I slipped into the kitchen. Grabbing two glasses from a cupboard, I looked around for something we could eat. Settling on a bowl of green grapes from the fridge, I filled the two glasses with water from the sink, and then carried them back into the living room. Cera had gotten up from the couch and was exploring the room; patting pillows and studying pictures. She rushed over, when she nmoticed the load I was carrying, and I handed her one of the glasses. We sat on the couch again, and I set the bowl of grapes on the table.

Tentatively she picked one of the biggest, toughest looking grapes and popped it into her mouth. I watched as she chewed and a look of surprise overcame her face. "I don't usually like the green ones, they're always the sourest, but these ones are really good!"

"Braken?" asked a female voice from the second story of the house, "Are you home? Who's with you?"

"You remember Cera, right?" I called back when she came to the top of the stairs.

"Oh, yes," my mother answered, and she looked up at her with a bleak expression, addressing her with the toneless voice I knew too well, "How are you, Cera?"

"I'm fantastic," Cera answered smiling hesitantly. "How are you, Mrs. Haven?"

"I've been better," my mother responded with a sigh, "but I have most definitly been worse. What brings you here?"

"I gave Braken a ride home," Cera answered smoothly, "he invited me in to talk to you."

"Oh. About what?" my mother asked.

"Dad," I answered, immediately regretting my choice of action when my mother's face fell. Well, no turning back now, "I, well Cera, had an idea that I should ask about some good memories. I want to get to know him."

My mom's face regained the faintest light of the smile that I had seen in pictures from years ago.

"Well, I haven't thought about it for a while," Mrs. Haven said, facing Braken. "Brian looked so much like you. His hair was your same color and you've always been more artistic like he was."

"Artistic?" Braken's eyes light up.

"Yes, he had a knack for landscapes," his mother said with a heavy sigh, "His sunsets were vibrant and I never say an evergreen as bright and full as the ones he drew. You're so much like him in other ways, though, like how clean you are. There hasn't been a day, in years, that I've had to tell you to clean your room, or make your bed, and he was such and early riser, just like you. . ."

I leaned back in my seat on the couch and smiled at the eagerness on Braken's face, the concentration in his eyes; the way his mother's voice got stronger and stronger, comparing Braken to the wonderful man she made his father out to be. She told us stories of how they met (she had been studying out in their high school field, and he was running to catch a long ball thrown by one of his friends, I'm guessing you can finish the rest in your head), how strong hearted he was, and funny esperiences they had together. It must have been at least three hours before Braken ran out of questions.

"Brian was just as inquisitive," his mother said in quite conclusion. "It really wasn't a shock that the power of the Knowers came upon him, he knew so much already. I didn't even notice the side effects until I looked back after he was . . . . well, you know. We had no time to prepare or say goodbye. One second he was there, the next he was gone, but I had you, Braken."

Braken clenched his fists, but masked his anger with a smile at the obviously humongous compliment from his mother. Grinding his teeth he answered, "Thank you, mom."

"It's not you that should be doing the thanking," she answered. "I haven't had a good thought about your father for a long time. Thank you."

She stood, walked over and kissed his forehead, before retiring upstairs. Braken watched her go, then turned to me once we heard a door close.

"Will you come out side with me?" he asked.

I answered with a quizzical look, and he just grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the couch. We walked out onto his wet porch, after I paused to slip my shoes back on, and he led me to a small bench. We sat close, really close, and he bent over, resting his head in his hands, ignoring the rain that continued to fall around us.

I put my arm around him, "Braken, what's wrong?"

"How could they do that?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking. "No goodbyes? Knocked him out and then left my mother to watch them drag him away by the arms."

"Braken, remember the other things you heard today," I said rubbing his back, "according to your mother, you're a spitting image of him and he did art like you. A lot of things she described reminded me directly of you."

"I'm so much like him," he said, looking up at me with tears in his eyes, "what if I'm going to be a Knower too."

"You can't think like that," I answered after a moment, "because your mother needs you to be here, and you still have a life to live."

"I want to," he answered quietly, "but the Knowers won't give me a choice either way."

"Braken, I won't let them take you," I answered firmly, "I can't take anymore loss, I absolutely refuse to."

"You know," he said, smiling as he wiped tears from his face, "I actually believe that."

It was then that I got the first actual feeling that he cared for me. Yeah, it felt great when he kissed me, but that wasn't as strong, or sure as it was now. I didn't know what to say, my heart was beating in my throat, so I'm surprised a conscious thought went through my head at all. I bit my lip and tried not to picture the 'perfect kiss' scene that could happen if I just leaned forward a couple of inches. For a second, I had to fight the tears that were all of a sudden threatening to cascade down my face when my sister and . . . well, you know. Why did I have to feel like this? I let my head rest on his shoulder, hoping ot hide my reddening eyes.

As I tried to ignore her awkward silence, I couldn't help smiling when I flashed back to this morning. I saw myself fumbling angrily with my locker, and Cera coming from behind me. I remembered how grateful I was to have someone to be with. Thinking back, I realized how fast everything had happened, but I didn't care because I hadn't been as happy as I was today, or as I was just in this moment, for a long time.

I leaned back against the bench, and sighed when she rested her head on my shoulder. I looked up to the sky.

"We'd be able to see the stars soon if it wasn't still raining," I said, casting around for a topic.

"Wait, what?" she almost shouted. "It's that late!? My parents are going to kill me," she jumped up, ran to her car, and threw open the door. She hesitated, and then came running back - she threw her arms around my neck.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered, and then ran back to her car.

I watched her drive away, and with a sigh I turned and walked back into my house. I continued into my kitchen, to make dinner as usual, but I came to a stop when I saw my mom behind the counter, humming to herself as she stirred something in a pot on the stove. I couldn't help but smile and turn out of the kitchen before she would look up and notice me there. Lifting a hand to rub my eye, I found it wet, for the second time today I was crying. It's funny how tears have such a negative connotation, but they aren't always product of pain.

I parked my car in the driveway, and rushed inside. Only to find my parents sitting at the dinner table eating a solemn dinner. Anger built up inside me; would it have killed them to at least call and yell at me for being late for dinner. Trina may have been the 'chosen one,' but just because she was gone didn't mean I was.

I rushed down to my room before I exploded at my parents, or my dad could notice my presence and tell me to bring up my grades (since they were the only things he cared to talk to me about), and changed into my pj's. Without my books to put me to sleep, I laid in my bed fighting tears of loss and uselessness. They fell when I thought of Braken, and how he had felt the same loss as me, and cared enough to counter the looming sense of uselessness.

Its times like these that the best day you've ever had ends when you step through your own door.

KiP - Chapter One: Twenty Years Earlier

I was born in July at the hospital in Vayne's Sector (named for the Knower of Thoughts, Vayne). I had gone through school properly up until now, and plan to keep going, no matter how stressful high school is. It makes me laugh about how huge those problems were to me, because they could barely be counted as the beginning. I sat with my friends, laughing and as loud as ever, had that tell-tale crush on the cute guy in my neighborhood, slept through class, explained the results to demanding parents and had sold my soul to the stage. It was hard enough to keep my grades up, let alone have time to actually try. Pretty normal, right?
The thing is, with all of that going on, my friends and I were the happiest in the school. You couldn't shoot a quick glance around the halls without seeing someone in obvious pain, more often heaving with sobs than anything. The Knowers had done this to us. They took our friends, family and loved ones on a weekly basis. My sister had been taken only two months ago, and it hurt so much that I had trouble convincing myself to move on. I had to talk myself through every step I took, every motion I made, everyday. I had quite honestly lost the will to go on. This is no fantasy so the pain only grew, softening its grip on my heart, and taking hold in my mind as anger.
Why would anyone do this?
How could anyone do this?
People stopped talking to each other, afraid of that same pain, afraid to lose another friend. Which was rather strange to me, because I think the whole situation brought my friends closer together. We'd been though a lot, and it was comforting to have the shoulder to cry on, so, for some strange reason, when the Knowers seemed to be tearing people apart hey had made my friend's and I's relationships stronger. We all have secrets that we cannot bring ourselves to tell anyone - everyone does, no matter how much you trust them - but I depend on them so much so that it makes my blood boil when I think about how I'm one of very few that have people to laugh with me.
Slamming my locker in frustration, I spun around towards the spot my friends and I claimed as our own. Scanning the halls, I felt my heart skip a beat as Braken Haven crossed my path in an angry huff. Since we lived on the same street, were both in the percussion class in the Jr. High, and had the same first period, we're pretty well acquainted, but there had never been true friendship between us. That is the fact that ate at me, seeing as I was usually good with people, and he was the one person I had issues speaking to. This drove me insane because, despite all the obvious distractions, I never had a problem relating to people. While talking to him though, I would always lose my train of thought, and have to pause and find it again, which made my sentences choppy, and then I could barely understand what I was trying to say, so I can only imagine how difficult it was for him.
It was almost weird to think about but he was cute, his brown eyes were often swimming with questions, and, if I was lucky, I would catch the small but genuine smile that was just so refreshing. He had a sense of humor, and an understanding attitude. It was common knowledge that he never knew his father. In times like these no one had little pains to bear, and even though everybody knew about them, no one dared to make the burdens lighter. Making a snap decision, I went up to him as he fumbled with the lock on his locker.
"Hey. . .um. . .are you okay, Braken?" I asked, "You seem a bit . . . off."
I had woken up screaming.
Since I've gotten older, the nightmares have grown more graphic. The Elite would come and incapacitate my father, and I (being older in the dreams than when it had actually happened) always insisted on going with him. Annoyed, they would beat me to the ground, and leave, my father in tow. It was always the same - except for last night. They began to drag my father out as usual, and then the leader stopped before disappearing in to the shadows like the others and said, 'You'll play your part, boy.' I couldn't make myself think about the meaning, I was that terrified. I found myself wishing I could do something about it, or just talk to someone about it, because whenever I bring it up at home, it affects my mother, not only emotionally but physically as well. She gets all dizzy, and has to sit down because the little strength that is left seems to just seep out of her.
Muttering under my breath, I stormed across the hall, trying to keep the deep grey cement and matching tiles from pushing me farther into depression, to my locker, the pain would never subside, because it was the roots for the untamable anger took hold of my heart long ago. My hand was shaking with fury as I tried to turn the dial on my locker, why did they have to do this to me? I had lived through pain and torment a child should never have to see before I was allowed into preschool, which was just a prelude to the hellish prison this school has turned out to be. Even if the Knower's didn't have complete control over the schooling system, the building was built like a prison: one toilet for the girls, one for the guys, one drinking fountain that everyone refused to drink from because of the legends of things that had happened to it, dark walls, matching tiles, florescent lights and bars on the classroom doors and windows. How did I deserve this? What had I done?
These bottled up emotions had twisted my potentially happy life into a whirl-pool of chaos. I'd taken some pretty drastic measures because I wanted it to end - I know that the only person that can make that happen is me. I really am proud of what I've done, I just can't help thinking that I wouldn't have had to go through anything if I could just open up a bit, relieve some of the pain and anger. Why was it so hard for me to confide in anyone? Oh right, because with my luck, the first person I found would be whisked away and I'd be left alone, again. I started when a voice interrupted my inaudible rant.
"Hey. . .um. . .are you okay, Braken?" it asked, "You seem a bit. . .off."
I whirled around, and Cera Minor took a step back as I almost fell forward. She laughed, and that rare and beautiful sound echoed through my head. Her hands come up to my shoulders to steady me; her bright blue eyes burning with comfort and concern. Oh the irony, I thought, just seconds ago I was longing for someone to confide in, and I am sent the last person I would ever want to burden with my problems.
Cera was my neighbor, and since she was in my first period English class, I saw a lot of her. Her short reddish-brown hair fell right around her face, often tossing and flipping as she bounced from person to person, spreading smiles when they're as rare finding gold in your bathtub. She had a sort of aura; you couldn't be around her without catching her own bright smile. She seemed to have this amazing way of sensing people's feelings and thoughts. Maybe she is the person I should talk to after all. . .
"Oh, it's nothing," he said with a shrug, his eyes clouding over with the lie. His face an expression I had only too much experience with.
"You wouldn't be thinking about your. . .well. . .dad, would you?" I asked on a whim. "I recognized your. . .um. . .expression," I explained hurriedly as a look of shock adorned his face.
"Oh?"
"I felt it every day," I answered, "after my - after my. . . you know. . .after my sister was taken."
I blinked, shocked. I really didn't expect the conversation to be that personal, but the words just kind of jumped out of my mouth. Then again, I didn't ever really expect this conversation to happen.
I cringed. That was not a time I liked to remember. Like I said, Cera was the happy one, known for her ability to make anyone laugh. These past two months had been darker for everyone. Cera sat with her friends as usual, but the bouncy positive person that we all knew and relied on was gone. The whole school seemed darker and people began to avoid her, because you could feel the anger and confusion radiating off of her so strongly that you wanted to cry yourself.
It was especially hard on her friends. Though they were all really close, they all kind of relied on Cera to be the one they could talk to, the one they could lean on. She really had no problem with it either. The way she sat and listened showed that she wanted them to talk to and confide in her. She treated it as if it were her calling.
It was one of the reasons (among many others) I think I fell for her; she was dependable, which, sad as it is, is a hard trait to come by these days. I could always depend on her smile to lift me up for the coming day, at a simple glance across the hall. When they took her sister, though, it was gone. She had only recently began to recover, the light smile on her face is still only a mere shadow of what it was, but it still holds hope of happiness.
All of that was probably what made me answer her completely honestly.
"Yeah, while I sleep the Elite come and take my dad over and over again, right in front of me. I already hate that I never knew him. . ."
I blinked as a look of shocked horror took over his face. I hadn't expected him to reveal that much, most people refuse my open ear - I can't blame them - and it looked like he had been planning on following suit. I took it in stride, though, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Braken," I whispered, "I know how badly it hurts. Can I . . . offer some advice?"
"Yeah," was his simple, shamefaced reply.
"Focus on the good memories," I said, "I know you never knew. . .knew your dad, but I'm sure your mom has some good memories. Ask her, and I think it might brighten her day . . . as well."
He looked up at me and (to my relief) smiled, my own special payment for my advice, "I think I will," he said, "My mom could definitely use a smile. Thanks."
"No problem," I smiled back. "You. . .can come sit with me for a while if you'd like. It seems like a friend. . .would do you good."
Her ability to read people amazed me sometimes. I had literally been asking myself what I was going to do when this conversation was over, and then she asked me to join her. I did agree that it would help to have people to take my mind off my dad. Don't get me wrong, I have friends, but they're the friends that are just as affected as I am. There were four of us, Jackson, Kyle, Cam and me. We were the friends that couldn't be separated; we had most of the same classes, and would feel completely comfortable raiding the others' fridges or pantries without question.
Probably a year ago, I got a call from Cam's mom, asking if he was with me. Our foursome had split after school because Kyle's family was leaving on vacation, and Jackson got himself grounded for 'attitude.' I told her I hadn't seen Cam since we split to our separate buses, and couldn't help asking how long he had been gone. When she said that he never came home from school, I had to concentrate on controlling my frantic thought process. If he was planning on running away there was no way I wouldn't know about it, if he was going anywhere I would know, we were that close. His mom told me that Jackson and Kyle had said the same thing, and then mournfully hung up. The next day, I asked a few questions and got the full story.
The Elite had intercepted Cam's bus had dragged him off. I cringed as person after person told me how he fought them in every way possible: screaming, biting, kicking, scratching, but nothing fazed them. This really hit our four- well, I guess it's a trio now - hard. We all despised the Elite, since they had capped off all of our most painful losses. Jackson's older brother, Kyle's younger sister, my dad, but they had done the most damage to Cam. His dad, his older sister (who had ended up taking over the motherly family figure, since their mom could do hardly anything with the depression she had sunk into), and his younger brother that had absolutely worshiped him had all been dragged off in the past. Though none of us could stand the Knowers, Cam hated them most, hands down. It wasn't much of a comfort to us, his friends, to know he was now an involuntary key to the establishment that he loathed more than anything on the planet. It's not that I was abandoning my friends; I just figured it would do me some good to try a couple minutes with happier people.
"That would be great," I said, and her smile expanded to its old splendor. Her hand slid off my shoulder and she spun around to her spot in the commons with her friends. We found them in the middle of an intense debate.
"Harry Potter is by far the best," said the one girl, Lena I think was her name, quite seriously.
"Pendragon is pretty good though," another girl, named Ari, argued.
"You can't possibly think that those books are better than Harry Potter!" Lena fought back, "J.K. Rowling is pure genius, and i didn't like D.J. MacHale's writing style. It isn't nearly as developed as J.K.R.'s is."
"I love Harry Potter," Jenna, another one of Cera's friends, "but James Patterson's Maximum Ride series is better for me."
Ari glared at her and Jenna threw her hands up in a surrendering gesture, "I'm sorry, I've never read Pendragon."
"Max is amazing," Lena conceded, "but as far as I'm concerned, Harry's is the most developed story, is beautifully eloquent (though Max does have her moments), and I am attached to the characters so much more than in any other story."
Braken was absolutely bewildered. I knew he had at least read the Harry Potter series, I had lent him Maximum Ride, but I don't know if he had ever read it. So besides the fact that he might have only the slightest idea of what they were talking about, they were talking about these amazing books quite enthusiastically.
This wasn't unusual though. My friends and I, we're, well, strange, especially compared to standard. We obsess over books, like the ones mentioned, T.V. shows like Avatar: The Last Airbender, CSI:, and Monk. We're quite problems expressing ourselves. I can see why people wouldn't want to express themselves, what with the Knowers becoming more and more out spoken against the hope of the people. They had begun banning things that could give people ideas. They seemed to think we would try and rebel or something. We're really not that stupid, if they know everything, how would we ever beat them? You get any idea, you let me know.
"We're different," I explained, "but people can usually find a place with us. You, for example, could talk with Lena, Jenna, and Ari about music, they all adore music, and Ari wants to learn the guitar. And we all, quite obviously, love Harry Potter."
"I assume we're talking about the books," Jeff said at that moment.
"The day you hear one of us compliment a Harry Potter movie (excepting the first two) will be the day the Knowers forget what they know," Lena said, with a roll of her eyes.
"Harry Potter is at the top of my list," I said, because I couldn't ever seem to hold in my opinion, "but I adore the story in Pendragon series, and have never laughed harder than when reading Maximum Ride."
She nodded firmly and joined them on the floor, motioning for me to do the same. My presence didn't seem to affect them, they just kept on talking, but Cera interrupted them.
"Hey, you guys know Braken, right?" she said, nudging me, "This is Lena, Ari, Jenna and Jeff."
Lena answered with an approving look, offered her hand to Cera for a high-five and she smacked it. Before I could ask what that was all about, Ari interrupted with her own question.
"So you play the guitar? I've got one; it's just hard to figure out."
"It's just the fingering, you know?" I said, feeling more at home, despite the fact that these strangers seemed to know me pretty well, "Finding and learning the cords. It gets much easier once you get that."
"If only I could have lessons," she said, wistfully, "I doubt my mom could come up with the money."
I nodded sympathetically. Ari's dad had been taken about a year ago. He was on the council now, which, in my opinion made it harder. I miss my sister more than almost anything, but I don't think I would be able to bear seeing her once bright and happy face, hard and cold, delivering pain and sorrow with every word. It would be torture to know what you miss and love this person but you can't even try to fight the hatred boiling deep down inside you, red hot, and threatening to explode at any minute. According to her, they never hear from him personally. Her mom was forced to get a job and struggle to support the family. She was still recovering from the loss, and part of me thinks she'll never be able to deal with it; which is completely understandable.
The thing that I just can't wrap my head around is how the people that were taken completely forgot about their loved ones. They didn't even think about their families, even if they were the most dedicated parent, or family oriented person. I never would have thought that my sister could forget about me, but the seven week period had ended a week ago. I had little hope that she would be able to contact me during that time, but I focused on the fact that this meant she was not headed for the Elite, which would have been so much worse.
"Cera?" Jeff's voice interrupted my stupor, his finger jabbing the ticklish spot on my side, making me jump, "You there?"
"I shut my eyes, and clenched my hands into fists in the effort to keep from smacking him, "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking."
I looked over at Cera - she was smiling lightly; questions and, I think, a hint of anger was burning in her eyes. Something told me she had completely missed the whole conversation, and I thought I had an inkling of why. She looked up and caught me staring at her, I thought about quickly looking away, but when she realized what I was doing, her smile expanded yet again.
"Are you . . . feeling better?" she asked, scooting close enough so that this was a somewhat private conversation.
I weighed my position out in my mind. I had actually resolved to talk to my mom about the happy memories she had of my dad. Focusing on that, I could keep any thoughts of the nightmares out of my head. I could also sense that these people, Cera and her friends, actually cared. I wasn't just some guy sitting next to them; they counted me as a friend, accepting me without a second thought, which is so rare nowadays. This thought had already begun to make the hard cement walls seem a little less grim, the florescent lights less fake, but I couldn't help wondering why anyone would want to get attached to another person the Elite could take away? Then it just kind of hit me.
People willing to take the risk are worth the effort.
"I'm feeling much better. Thanks."
"Don't mention it," she said, leaning back on her hands, "Sometimes you just need a happier place. . .in which you're comfortable enough to be yourself, you don't have to - to worry about what others, even The Knowers, think."
"Doesn't it all end, though?" I asked, "How do you know the Elite won't come up within the minute and snatch Lena, or Airi-whatever her name is? It could happen to anyone, it actually happened to me! So why pretend that all is well?"
"We don't Braken," she whispered harshly, looking completely offended, "I could never pretend that my sister just . . . disappeared! How could you suggest that? We just collectively decided that if. . .the people. . .that have been taken were here with us, they wouldn't want us to completely give up in life now that they're gone! Don't you see that?"
"That's definitely a different way to look at things," I answered, "I never thought about it like that."
"I am sorry about Cam, though," she said quietly. "I had forgotten that you two used to be attached at the hip."
"He'd be happy for me now," I answered, not sure if she'd get it.
I bent my head back, trying to grip the optimistic way of life that had since escaped me. Imitating Cera, I put my hands back, using them to support my weight.
He leaned back, stretching his arms back behind him. I felt an odd weight encase my hand, and had to turn my head to figure out what it was. Braken had settled his hand right on top of mine without realizing it. His hand shifted, and then the realization of what it was resting on hit him, and it jserked back. I pretended not to notice as his face went red and he shot a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't especially hard because at his touch I was thrown onto memory lane at running speed. I saw flashes of different memories of my sister. A montage, every time I could remember her comforting me. She would always encase my hand in hers, and let me lean, or cry, on her shoulder.
I'm not saying I don't know that my friends love me, because they do, and I know they have my back for anything. It's just that sometimes, rarely, I feel like I have secrets that I can't share, things that could hurt them more. My sister was always an unbiased judge, something I hope I have learned from her, but I would tell her absolutely everything. It's not that my friends would judge me, it's just. . . . . .I don't know, it's complicated, but I had forgotten what it felt like to have that kind of outlet, and his touch brought the memory back to me.
Then, of course, there is the teenage girl inside me, freaking out becasue the guy I liked had practically just held my hand, on accident or not (laugh if you want, you've thought the same thing and you know it).
shoving those thoughts aside, I looked at Braken and he was still red-faced, it really must have been an accident. I chuckled a little, smiling wider so he would see that no harm was done. His face drained some of the red, and a warm light filled his eyes, in which I could no longer see the pain and anger that had been there only minutes ago.
Sitting there, thinking back on my life, I never remember being more embarrassed than that second. My face felt so hot, you probably could have cooked a pizza on it in less than five minutes. I don't know if it was so bad because I already really liked her, or if it was just the circumstance and the awkwardness of it all. It seemed to affect her though, like my touch had just sent her into another dimension. Maybe I was just imagining things or she smiled like she actually enjoyed the sensation, and was there really some delight in her eyes?
In the middle of my frantic thought process, the bell rang, and a collective groan went through the school. I looked around and watched as people solemnly heaved themselves into standing positions, and then turned around to my new friends. They were laughing and joking, pulling each other up by the hands. That moment, I assured myself that they were the people I was supposed to be with. After being enlightened about the reason behind the smiles, I don't think I could go back to the depressing life I upheld before.
Suddenly, my vision was obscured by a fleshy mass, which happened to be a hand. I looked up and Cera was standing there offering to help me up. I conceded and once she had hugged all of her friends tightly, she turned to me, and we walked to English together.
I lead the way into the English room, and Braken, who usually sat on the other side of the room, followed me over to my preferred seat, and took the one next to it. Simultaneously, we looked around the room for the teacher, our eyes meeting when there was no sign of him. He tilted his head in a questioning way, and I shrugged. Maybe he was late. The tardy bell rang, and our teacher still hadn't shown up, the other students were just visiting quite loudly with each other, not noticing the absence.
After about ten minutes, I started to get worried; usually the administration had at least sent a sub by now. Right as I was about to walk down to the office and ask what the heck was going on, a voice came on over the P.A. system.
"Attention teachers and students please excuse this interruption, but I have a very important message from the Council. It reads as follows:
'Citizens,
English will no longer be taught as a subject.
The ideals that are supported by this course are strictly against our hope for a peaceful society. To keep these ideals from infecting our younger citizens, and future Council members, we have demolished the class completely. Hence forth, English classes will be filled in by Diction, so that you still learn our language, and will be able to be useful to our society.
Also, within the day, the Council will release a list of books that shall be prohibited to possess. Anything irrelevant to progress will be banned, for to be one as a society, we must all have the same ideals. Creativity, though praised in the past, must now be put to an end if we are all going to stand strongly together as a whole to face the dangers that will inevitably threaten us. We Know we are right.
The Council of the Known'
Classes that are normally in English right now, if you would please focus your attention to the screen at the front of the class room. The computer will say a word and its definition, and you will please repeat exactly what it says. Thank you."
Braken and I were gaping at each other in complete and absolute horror.
"WHAT?" I had to keep myself from yelling. Anything irrelevant will be banned?!? I may be shooting in the dark here, but I'm guessing Harry Potter would not be on the approved list, and for some reason, I didn't think my newest friends would take this very well, because I'm not half as obsessed as they are, but it still ticked me off.
What was the idea with this 'diction' crap anyway? I could MAYBE understand it for like second graders or something, but we're high school students, we can speak just fine! Meanwhile, cera looked like she was trying to convince herself that it was all a nightmare. I knew for a fact that, besides her friends, her books mattered most to her. That P.A. pretty much told her that she had to give them all up. She pushed the hair out of her face, revealing an almost scary look of pure determination.
Now that the screen had begun class, I didn't dare talk, but I shot her a questioning glance, and in reply she shook her head, stood up and basically exploded out of the classroom. Since the screen didn't seem to notice, I copied her actions (with a lot less energy). She was halfway down the hall, ranting at the top of her voice.
"WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?!?" she yelled pulling out her phone, and jamming the buttons with her fingers. "WHY WOULD THEY EVER WANT TO BAN THE BOOKS?! ABSOLOUTE INSANITY I TELL YOU! IF THEY THINK FOR JUST ONE MINUTE THIS IS GOING TO GO OVER EASILY, BOY HAVE THEY GOT ANOTHER THING COMING!!!"
The phone was at her ear, and seconds later Lena answered at the other end.
"We have GOT to talk," Cera said, "Can you ditch?. . .Okay, good, meet you in the commons, hurry."
She hung up and dialed the next number.
I dialed Ari's number, still absolutely fuming. I'm still not really sure what set me off. Maybe I'm just fed up with those stupid Knowers, all their tricks and games. My books are really close to my heart, I don't know why but they were always special. Anyone who knew me would testify to know much I love my books. Whenever I read them, I take the slip cover off (and store it on a special shelf just for the slip covers), and put a book cover on. Even then, they never touch the floor, and if anyone that doesn't have permission so much as tries to touch them, I can turn lethal. Like I said, they mean a lot ot me, and especially after they stole my sister from me, this was the final straw, no matter how ridiculous it seems.
"Ari? Hey we've got to talk," I said, once Ari answered, "Can you get out of class?. . . meet us in the commons."
I ended the call, but before I could call Jenna, I was receving a call. Glancing at the screen, I saw Jeff's name on the caller id.
"Hey, Jeff," I said, not waiting for a reply, "get out of class, we've gotta do something about this."
He affirmed - I ended the call, and frantically dialed Jenna's number.
"Jenna, dear, calm down," I said when she answered her phone frantically yelling, "Calm down! We're not giving them up that easily. Get out of class, we've got to decide what we're going to do."
She hung up and I started towards the commons. You, reading this right now, might think that I'm being completely ridiculous. You're probably thinking, 'Why does it matter? They're books!' but you have to understand where I'm coming from. To me, my books are my friends, and I had come to depend on them almost as much as I do on the friends that are people, and I know for a fact that I can't live without my friends.
Turning into the commons, I saw Lori and Sheri standign there looking around for something. They saw me, and rushed over.
"Oh good! Cera, we knew you would show up!" Lori said, "Something told me the banning would not go over well, especially with you. Diction wasn't too interesting, so I came here."
"I met her, after leaving my own class, and we figured you'd end up out here sooner or later," said Sheri, looking around me at Braken, "Who's this?"
"Sorry," I said, turning to Braken, I grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, "You guys, tis is Braken, I introduced him this morning, but you guys weren't here. Braken, this is Sheri, and Lori."
"Sorry I wasn't here earlier," Lori said sticking out a hand, "I had swim team."
"I was studying," Sheri admitted quietly, waving.
Cera's hand was still clamped to mine, and I had a harder time concentrating on this rather frightening turn of events. Clumsily, I dropped her grip and shook Lori's hand and waved back to Sheri, they both smiled.
"What exactly are we doing?" I asked, casting a worried look around. We were breaking the rules in a Council-owned establishment after all.
"We have got to find a way - to preserve our books," Cera said in a determined tone, waving Jenna, Jeff, Ari, and Lena over. "Why do you look so worried?"
"Well, the Council runs this school," I said slowly.
"Yeah, and?"
"Don't you think they might be watching us sluff on their cameras right now? Isn't this a bit obvious?" I asked and her eyes actually lit up.
"They don't have camera's here, I promise," she said with a knowing smile.
"You know this because. . .?"
"The stage techies and I found this room," she started, speaking quieter as the rest of the group settled down around us, "jam packed with old screens. They were the receivers for the cameras that the school board used to have. All deactivated, some of the screens were even crashed. If they had cameras anywhere, they'd be run through that room, besides, we've been in all the other rooms. Nothing. Either way, all of these teachers and so called administrators work for them, why would we ever disobey with a threat like that looming ober us?"
As I tried to find a hole in her logic, she turned around and addressed the group.
"You guys, we've all lost something because of these 'All-Knowing Tyrants.' We have each other and in all actuality, we don't know how long that will last. (She shot a significant smile in my direction) We may just be kids, but adults don't care enough, and I am sick and tired of waiting for them to do something about this. We have GOT to do something now, and i suggest we start with the books."
"The books are jsut the beginning," I said, surprised at the sound of my own voice, "They're cutting off the voice of the people, before we know it, we won't be able to open our mouths without getting thrown into jail."
Cera beamed at me, and Sheri nodded.
"One thing I know we've got to do," Cera continued confidently, "is, obviously, keep the Knowers from getting our books."
"You mean, hide them?" Jeff asked.
"Yes," Cera answered, "Do you guys have any ideas as to how?"
They all looked at me expectantly.
"You're the one who would have the best ideas, Cera," Lena said. "You know the school better than anyone."
"The school?" I asked, utterly confused, "Why would we hide them here?"
"They'll send the Elite through our houses," Lena said. "They would never suspect one of their own establishments to be harboring illegal books."
As the reality of what she said hit me, I began to think of a good hiding place, somewhere no one but a select few people knew about. The idea popped into my head, and I pulled out my phone, dialing my friend Kendra's number. She was a techie like me, which meant she had extensive knowledge of the school's less traveled places, if my idea was going to work, I would need her help, "Okay, I'm calling in reinforcements, Kendra will definitly be able to help us."
"Hey, I know Kendra!" Braken said. "She's on the stage crew with you, right?"
"Yeah, which is exactly why I need her," I said smiling, then Kendra answered her phone. "Hey, I've got a. . . project. . .and I need your help, you in? . . .Oh yes . . . sweet! Hurry over to the commons."
"Where are we going?" Jenna asked, suddenly suspicious. "I'm not going to put my books just anywhere!"
"I know, this is me we're talking about, I wouldn't either," I answered. "Let's just wait for Kendra."
Seconds later, Kendra was runnign towards us, "Cera! What is the plan?"
"We need to hide our books," I explained quickly. "I was thinking the 'upper-maze' would be the perfect place to do it. What do you think?"
Her green eyes lit up, "You would actually put your books up there?"
"After some modifications, of course, which is where you could be especially helpful," I replied with a nod.
"Oh! Plywood, or 2x4s?" she asked instantly.
"I think we'll need both," I answered, throwing her a high-five.
The way those two instantly knew what the other was talking about made me want to laugh. I still had no idea what Cera (and, obviously, Kendra) had in mind.
"Wait, where are we going?" Ari asked looking terrified.
"You won't actually have to go up," Cera assured her, "you can act as look out. Come with me you guys."
"Yeah, okay, but where?"
"You know I'm terrified of heights," Jenna said.
"Do your books matter enough for you to go up there?" Cera asked, looking Jenna straight in the eye. "Besides, once you're up there, it doesn't feel as high as it is. I'm going to have to show you."
Jenna gulped, but nodded. Cera got up and led the way toward the auditorium, passing the small snack shack in the wall, and righ tup to a lone door that was always locked. Undeterred, Cera pulled it open and Kendra walked in, followed by everyone else, with me bringing up the back. I paused when I realized that going through this door would bring about a change in my life. I would be signing some sort of invisible contract of trust, cementing our friendships, and taking my name down as a permanent member of this rebellion, along with all that sworn to secrecy stuff, all in one step. Frightening, no?
"Braken?" Cera was standing right in front of me, "You don't have to come with us. . .it will probably be dangerous. It's a lot to ask, especcially since you just - just met these guys. We could really use your help though."
Her eyes were full of hope, and her smile was bright.
"Where are we going?"
She looked up and down the hall, and then came up right next to me, pulled me down so she could whisper directly into my ear, "It's a techie secret. A place only a select few get to go. We're going to hide them in the vents."
Making direct eye-contact, so that there would be no misgivings, I said, "Count me in."
She whooped, and turned up the stairs. Smiling, I stepped over the door frame, and ran up after her.