Anna

  I’m standing in the lobby. Chris, as usual, is late, so I pull out my phone to scroll through the news feed.

  Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I watch the stream of students hustling through the hall of the academic building. That bastard Chris must be stuck in the bathroom. Fine, I’ll wait. I scroll with my finger, occasionally glancing up. And in one of those moments, an unpleasant feeling washes over me—a sense of being stared at. I turn my head and quickly find the source that makes my heart flutter. He doesn’t look away, and, as luck would have it, he’s too far to hear my thoughts.

  I smile at the brunette, and he winks back. If I were a snowflake, I would have melted long ago before everyone’s eyes. Well, never mind… flirting and love affairs aren’t on my agenda right now.

  I return to business, especially since a very interesting news story appears. I read attentively, frown, and realize who it’s about.

  “Have you been waiting long?” Chris appears next to me, and I immediately shove the phone under his nose.

  “Read it!”

  “‘A miraculous rescue!’” he reads the headline flatly.

  “Read it, read it…”

  “Out loud?”

  “You can read it out loud.”

  And Chris starts, in a low voice:

  “‘In the borough of Queens, New York, during a residential building fire, a volunteer miraculously rescued a child trapped in the flames. The incident was captured on a camera mounted on the helmet of one of the firefighters, BBC reports. During the fire, the mother, in a panic, rushed out of the building, relying on her husband, leaving the girl behind in the burning house. The child was pulled from the fire by a young man who wished to remain anonymous. The girl suffered minor burns and was taken to the hospital by ambulance. However, the young man, who, according to witnesses, ‘dived’ into the flames without a shirt, emerged completely unharmed.

  ‘His hair was untouched, only his trousers were scorched. His body was only slightly sweaty, as if he had visited a steam bath,’ a neighbor of the rescued girl said.

  The young man declined to comment.’”

  Chris returns the phone to me and pauses, thinking. I listen to his silent reflections for a moment, then can’t hold back.

  “You guessed right! He’s our ‘magician.’ I’m certain of it, as certain as I am of myself.” We move slowly toward the stairs. “That son of a bitch is asking for trouble. If the press discovers the reasons behind his… uh… let’s say, if they learn about his ‘friendship with fire,’ we’ll be in danger too.”

  “He needs to come to us…”

  “I told you yesterday the conversation with him failed.”

  “We have to try again. Maybe he got angry because you’re a girl and, on top of that, read his ‘innermost’—” Chris laughs—“thoughts.”

  I laugh too. I start to make a witty remark about it, but before I can get a word out, I collide with a girl. Or she with me. It seems she was flying through the hall without looking ahead, so I decide it’s her fault.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going!” I squeak indignantly.

  The girl stops, tosses her mass of black hair behind her back, and glares at me threateningly.

  “Don’t block my way.”

  “Not enough space for you?” I wave my hand toward the crowd. Sure, there are many students, so she could be excused, but there are basic courtesies. She could have apologized.

  “What a shitty bitch! Stuck to me like old chewing gum on a shoe. Because of her, I’ll be late,” I hear her thoughts and boil with anger.

  “Apologize, and we’ll move on!”

  “Who do you think you are?” she snaps.

  Chris tugs at my shoulder.

  “Leave it.”

  But I’m already angry and not about to stop. What audacity!

  “I’d show you who I am, but there are too many witnesses.”

  “Ohhh,” the girl seems encouraged, and it unnerves me. I just want her to apologize. The dark-haired girl steps closer, and we stand almost face to face.

  “Very interesting to see,” she says. “How will you show it? Shall we test it tonight on the alley? Just you and me. At midnight. The loser will apologize publicly to the winner.”

  “If she survives,” I think.

  Tempting, but for a moment I freeze. Helplessly, I stare into my rival’s predatory eyes. Retreating isn’t in my nature, so I lift my chin and say boldly:

  “Deal! Tonight at midnight, in the alley.”

  The girl nods with satisfaction and walks away. Chris shakes his head gloomily.

  “I think it wasn’t worth it.”

  “You’ll see, Chris,” I say, tugging his sleeve, “tomorrow she’ll apologize publicly and won’t bother Anna Powell again.”

  “Chris is right,” we hear behind us, and we turn. Jason. He saw everything.

  I look at him questioningly. First, he thinks, then says aloud:

  “Not worth it.”

  Jason

  “You shouldn’t have started all this,” I add, stepping closer to the group. “You didn’t read her thoughts? Didn’t you realize she’s dangerous?”

  Anna thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

  “Her thoughts didn’t scare me.”

  She’s lying. It’s obvious she’s afraid. The fear is written on her face, but Anna stubbornly refuses to admit it. Beautiful and striking, not because of a red dress—no, not at all. And she’s not a natural blonde. A decorated, put-together girl; only the sharpest eye would see behind the disguise the real Anna—proud, self-sufficient, assertive. Anna’s charm lies not in her looks, but in how she wields them. I noticed this yesterday during our conversation.

  “You shouldn’t get involved with that girl,” I say, not knowing why I’m helping. Honestly, I shouldn’t care.

  “Why? Do you know something?”

  “I’ve dealt with her.”

  “What do you mean?” Chris joins—Chris, I think?—I sigh. He asked for it. “Come on, I’ll show you something.”

  Lectures begin. Our footsteps echo through the quiet, empty corridors. Behind the heavy doors, professors’ voices diligently explain their subjects to students. From somewhere off to the side wafts the tempting scent of freshly baked bread and fried meat. My stomach twists—I skipped breakfast this morning because I argued with my mom. She’s against me riding my bike to university. What’s so bad about that, I don’t understand!

  Anna quickly realizes I’m leading them to the side exit.

  “Jason, why are you taking us here?”

  “You’ll see,” I say, stopping at the wall.

  Chris and Anna look at each other and wait.

  “Take a good look,” I order, pointing at the blank wall.

  They peer, but see nothing. I stamp my foot, then freeze as Chris pushes his hand through the spot where the indentation I want to show is.

  “You…”

  “He walks through walls,” Anna states matter-of-factly, smirking at me. “I tried telling you yesterday.”

  “The wall is uneven,” Chris interrupts, distracting us from the budding argument.

  “Right. It’s the imprint of my head.”

  Chris and Anna widen their eyes, uttering sounds of surprise.

  “It’s her and her friends,” I explain. “They caught me after the show… ahem… the tricks. You understand what I mean. I don’t know who they are, but the guy holding me was unreal strong. You could get trapped, Anna.”

  Anna’s expression doesn’t change, but I see her tighten the strap of her pearly handbag.

  “We agreed one-on-one.”

  What am I doing? Trying to persuade the stubborn girl and protect her from danger? She wants to rush into the cage with a wild animal—fine, her choice. I won’t intervene further.

  Chris leans against the wall and wipes his face with his hand. He looks tired, exhausted, simply done. Seems Anna twists him around as she pleases.

  “We need a place to discuss this privately. Have you tried looking?” Chris asks Anna, ignoring me. I listen closely anyway, standing behind them.

  “When would I have had time, Chris?” Anna snaps. “I don’t know New York at all. I hoped Matthias and Krista would handle it.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “They’re not locals either.”

  “Alright, we’ll figure something out,” Anna sighs, glancing at me one last time and leaving. Chris trails behind her.

  “Wait!” I shout. They turn, and bright sunlight streams through the cracks, outlining their figures in the dim corridor. I approach and say firmly:

  “I know a spot.”

  Krista

  I stretch lazily in bed and open my eyes. The sun floods the room with bright light. Janet and Kristina, half-dressed, bustle back and forth.

  “What day is it today?” I croak to the girls. It seems I’ve caught a cold.

  “Friday,” Janet replies. “The weekend starts tomorrow. It’s been quite a week.”

  “And an amazing one at that,” Kristina laughs. I like her simple-heartedness. And yes, I agree with her completely. You couldn’t come up with anything more astonishing!

  I struggle out of bed and move toward the table, stepping on the long legs of the pajama pants. Mom tried—she decided to buy a size too big. I remember being upset with her over these pajamas, which is probably why I love them so much now.

  “Bye, everyone!” Kristina shouts, blowing us playful air kisses before leaving.

  Janet pulls some tablets from her purse and places them on the table.

  “For your sore throat. They work well.”

  “Thanks,” I smile. At that moment, the kettle clicks on. My hand ends up right under the spout, from which boiling water erupts. My fault entirely, though the scalded skin heals instantly, right before Janet’s eyes.

  Damn, this is not a sore throat you can just mask! In the morning, I wake with a scratchy throat, and within a minute, it disappears—illnesses and colds last only a few minutes for me. But no one knows if I feel good or bad until I say so myself. I could have taken a throat tablet and pretended it really helped. But a burn… it looks like I’m in trouble!

  Janet, stunned, stares at my face. I look away.

  “What was that?”

  “What do you mean?” I play dumb.

  “Hot water hit your skin, and I saw it redden, then…”

  “I just didn’t burn badly. You imagined it.”

  “Maybe,” she mutters to herself, then grabs her bag and leaves, shooting me a piercing look.

  I sigh with relief once the door closes behind her. I pour some tea. I’d have coffee, but in our tiny kitchen, there’s no room to make it. And I can’t stand instant coffee.

  I sit down, grab my phone, and first thing, check my email. I read a kilometer-long message from Mom with great delight, laughing at her jokes about Dad. Mom can’t live without him, though she loves to “nag,” and she does it with humor. How I miss these two unpredictable people. And my little brother too. Today he sent me a “Good day, sis!” card on WhatsApp. Brief, but incredibly sweet.

  The next message from Matthias I devour with excitement, a wide smile spreading across my face. My first love message, covered in hearts. Oh my, I’m in love! I start writing a reply, and at that very second, a new notification chimes. I frown, then remember our group’s name… Wait, was it “Fifth”? I could have sworn it was “Fourth” just yesterday.

  Not finishing my reply to Matthias, I open the chat. I see a new number added. And a message from Anna:

  TODAY AT 8 P.M.

  28 AVENUE, 40. DO NOT BE LATE.

  I stare at the address for a long time. Then I return to Matthias’s message, and we have a long conversation—not trivial chatter. We discuss our feelings and share thoughts about the future.

  In the evening, Matthias waits for me at the campus gates. I rush to him and throw myself around his neck. Matthias spins me around and kisses me as if seeing me for the first time after a long absence.

  “You’re a feisty little girl!”

  “Why?”

  “You missed lectures!”

  “I… was sick.”

  He laughs.

  “Don’t tell me stories.”

  I laugh too.

  “Did you forget I was given a project and told to work on it in the library until Monday? I spent the whole day on pointless formulas.”

  Matthias drapes an arm around my neck and pulls me close.

  “I missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

  I melt at the sound of his soft, velvety voice with a husky edge.

  “Me too… very much.”

  “Let me know when I can sneak into your room.”

  “Sure.”

  We kiss, giggle, and then hurry toward Twenty-Eighth Avenue.

  A small street in the depths of the private sector greets us. We carefully scan the house numbers, making sure not to miss number forty. And there it is.

  “I feel like we’ve come to the backyard,” I say, taking in the scene; the garden hides its secrets well. At that moment, a young man steps out from the shadow of a tree. A mole on his cheek…

  Chris

  Jason said no one uses this garage. A bike hangs on the wall without a wheel. In the corner, tools and some old, dirty things. Inside, it smells of dust and faint gasoline. I wonder if we can turn this place into our base. The girls are going to have to work hard.

  I ask Anna. She studies me from under her brows for a long moment.

  “On the condition that we all put in effort.”

  “Hm… but cleaning is a girl’s job.”

  “In that case, handing a chair to a girl is a man’s job,” she says seriously. “Although no, not manly—boyish.”

  Okay, the hint is clear. I look around and see two chairs. I think about what to wipe the centuries-old dust with. But to my delight, Jason returns, along with Matthias and Krista. We greet each other.

  “Is there anything to sit on?” Krista asks.

  Jason looks at the same filthy chairs, then says:

  “Um… we’ll figure something out next time.”

  Almost immediately, an awkward pause settles over us, as I expected. After all, there are five of us, but we don’t know where to start. And for some reason, I’m sure Jason is the cause of the awkwardness.

  Anna inspects the garage’s mess, then suddenly says:

  “Jason, what if we turn this dump into a decent place? Clean everything up… together,” Anna emphasizes clearly, looking straight at me. I could regret giving her such an idea, but even if I stayed silent, she would have dug into my head and found it anyway. “And we could bring cups and mugs,” she continues, “so we could have snacks…”

  “Stop, stop, stop!” Jason interrupts her. “Do you want me to drag a sofa with pillows here too? And a little foot bath?”

  Anna giggles.

  “Why not?”

  From her calm expression, I can tell Jason has no sinister thoughts.

  “I agree with Anna,” Matthias joins in. “If we’re thinking of gathering here from time to time, it should at least be clean. The rest… is a matter of imagination and possibility.”

  “And we could make a lock so everyone has their own key,” I add boldly, earning puzzled looks. “I’ll need a key sometimes too.”

  “Yes, Jason,” Krista nods in support. “What if someone arrives early and we have to wait? Where do we sit?”

  “Okay, fine! You’ve convinced me,” he relents, raising his hands. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. We’ll meet here at ten. I’ll try to find chairs in the storage, and some… rags.”

  “We’ll bring cleaning supplies,” Anna holds up a finger.

  “Matthias and I will run to the store and buy snacks,” Krista says with a cheerful smile.

  Anna shrugs, scanning the garage once more, then exclaims:

  “Then it’s settled! Tomorrow we clean up, and then we can actually talk.”

  “Think about what I told you,” Jason reminds Anna, and I’m grateful to him. My heart isn’t at ease when I start thinking about what could happen.

  Anna smirks and nods faintly. Krista suspects we’re conspiring, and that they don’t know.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks.

  Jason and I briefly explain the situation, and together we try to dissuade Anna from meeting that girl. But Anna just gets angry.

  “I’m not a coward! Got it? And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s go!”

  We all realize that influencing Anna is pointless. Even if she says she won’t go, she’ll go anyway. I think of another way to handle this and a plan comes to mind.

  We head for the exit when Jason stops us. Krista brushes against Anna, and her bag falls to the dirty floor, spilling everything out. Anna frowns at her now-dirty bag but makes no move, waiting for Jason to speak, as we all do.

  “Our ancestors don’t need to know why we gather here,” he says. “This garage isn’t needed by anyone. Dad and Uncle Bill are rarely home. Mom doesn’t go to the backyard either, but we have curious servants. I just want to tell them I’m forming a band and we need a rehearsal base. How do you like the idea?”

  We nod in agreement.

  “And… beyond these walls, please don’t use your abilities.”

  I understand this mostly applies to Matthias and me, and we agree. Then Krista and Jason sit to help Anna gather her scattered belongings. I seize the long-awaited moment and pull Matthias aside from the garage.

  “You can help, friend,” I say quickly, glancing anxiously at the door.

  “Help?” Matthias asks, puzzled.

  “You can be invisible, so you could easily be at that meeting. I’m worried about Anna. She rushes into fire knowing it will burn, but wants to seem brave and goes anyway. From what Jason told us, she’s in danger.”

  We hear voices. The girls are already leaving the garage, and I look at Matthias pleadingly.

  “At midnight?”

  “Yes. In the alley.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Mathias

  I arrive at the alley half an hour early, deciding it would be safer this way. Naturally, I didn’t tell Krista, because I’m sure she would want to come too. And if there’s nothing to worry about for her, I fear for Anna, mortal as she is and the most vulnerable among us.

  The night is black and moonless, inspiring fear. There’s no wind at all. Silence surrounds me. The dim light from the streetlamps barely covers the small area, while in the depths of the park there is a terrifying darkness.

  I stand on a crushed-stone path, winding its way from the alley toward the main university building. The guards are too far away to hear a noise or a scream if something happens. That woman clearly knew in advance the best place for such meetings.

  For what purpose? I ask myself.

  Footsteps.

  I freeze in place. Any movement would give me away, because the ground is covered in dry leaves.

  It’s not Anna. It’s the other one—the one I’ve never seen before. She looks relaxed, confident, chewing gum. Her long hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, so tight her eyes seem narrower than they actually are. She’s dressed in a black tracksuit and heavy sneakers.

  She checks her watch. I know there’s still time, and she’s waiting patiently. Anna appears five minutes later. She’s wearing a tracksuit too, but white. I can’t help thinking this all reminds me of a meeting between the “Light” and the “Dark,” good and evil. And I don’t like it one bit.

  “Hello there!” the dark-haired girl greets her.

  “Hi! Well? I’m here. What now?”

  Anna looks brave and proud. I admire her ability to hide her true emotions; her composure is remarkable.

  “My name’s Dakota,” the girl introduces herself. “Do you know who I am?”

  “If you tell me, I’ll know,” Anna replies.

  I’m surprised by Anna’s answer. She can read minds—maybe this is her strategy.

  “I’ve been studying at this university for a long time, and I keep having to teach the newcomers again and again that I am in charge here.”

  “The head of this university is Mr. Doran,” Anna says.

  A sinister laugh escapes Dakota.

  “You don’t get it, Anna. Academics are one thing, but student life at Saint Johns depends on me. Clear enough?” She walks around Anna but doesn’t come too close. “I know all the freshmen, and especially the special ones. Ones like you, for example. I deliberately provoked you this morning. And I admit, I thought you’d chicken out.”

  Two questions occupy my mind: is Anna reading her thoughts right now? And how does Dakota know Anna is special?

  “What do you want from me?” Anna asks.

  “For you to be on our side.”

  Not this.

  Anna hesitates. I barely restrain myself from stepping forward and letting her know I’m nearby. But one rustle, and Anna will be in trouble.

  “Why should I be on your side?”

  “Because… because we need someone who can read minds. Oh my God, don’t you understand what you could do with your gift?”

  “No.”

  Dakota now comes almost face to face with Anna and speaks softly.

  “If you obey me, you’ll be popular, people will respect you and… fear you. With us, nothing will threaten you. And…” She smiles, brushes the pristine collar of Anna’s jacket, then says, “let’s forget our agreement.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Come on… read my mind, dear Anna,” she laughs again.

  I watch Anna’s face twist into a strange grimace, either from anger or pain, and she silently begins to back away.

  “No!” Anna cries defiantly. “This will not happen! Never! I will not agree to kill, understand?”

  “Well then…” Dakota raises her hands, and I see the sky’s color change. From dark blue, it turns black. “Then we’ll have to fight. There is no place for two powers in the same territory. And if you survive, you’ll apologize publicly on Monday.”

  None of us understands what is happening. I only hear the rolling thunder. I look at Dakota, and now I realize who caused the sudden downpour at Saint Johns. This is what she meant when she said, “Life at Saint Johns depends on me.”

  Lightning. Numerous bolts strike from all directions, stabbing into the ground like cartoon swords—sharp, golden, glowing—like the ones drawn for animated films.

  “Scared?” Dakota shouts. “Can you defend yourself with your ability? No!”

  Anna has no chance to move, surrounded as she is by dangerous natural phenomena.

  “We all depend on each other. We complete each other,” Dakota continues, controlling her power. “One dies, another heals… just like in the movies. Isn’t that right?”

  No! This is all too real! And I have to do something. I need to stop Dakota before she harms Anna. The thunder helps me; I step forward boldly. Dakota notices movement to the side, distracted, and lightning strikes a tree. I hear the crack, unaware the tree is about to collapse. I knock Dakota to the ground and hold her tightly. Too bad I don’t grab her hand in time before she sends another lightning bolt toward Anna, striking her.

  “No-o-o!” I scream at the top of my lungs, and it frightens Dakota. Full of hatred, I swing and strike her in the face. Instantly, it’s over. No more lightning, no more storm.

  She struggles for a while, trying to break free. Eventually, I let her go, because I need to rush to Anna, if there’s any way to help her at all.

  The moment I loosen my grip, Dakota runs off. I’m gasping, hearing her threatening words:

  “This is not our last meeting, invisible one!”

  The damaged tree finally crashes down, landing on Anna.

  I know I won’t reach her in time, but I run anyway, sweat streaming down my face.

  Just don’t die, Anna.