Flicker of a Candle

By Stephanie Moos

In Flicker of a Candle, Leah and Callie are ordinary kids at heart, but deep within they’re hiding a power unlike any other, realizing this when they’re only ten years old. The story is based on Leah’s perspective. Three men break into her house while she's home alone and try to steal her necklace-the Imperadita, a jewel wanted by many Supernaturals. It has been lost for years, and when they find out Leah has it, she realizes it contains a power that could change the world. In an attempt to save his family, Leah’s father gets murdered, leaving Leah in a state of grief and Leah’s mother without her memory. The story switches from Leah's perspective as a ten-year-old to her perspective as a fifteen-year-old, where both times are dangerous and life-threatening. The more she knows after she returns to her memories, the more she discovers whom her ancestors are, secrets and lies, and her identity. She sets off on a dangerous quest to find Callie and faces the many unknown obstacles awaiting her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephanie Moos
• Release date: Aug 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452449906

Stephanie Moos

My name is Stephanie Moos. I am a sixteen-year-old soon-to-be sophomore at Steamboat Springs High School in Colorado. I’ve been writing fiction and fantasy stories since I was six years old, when I made a remodeled version of 101 Dalmatians. Writing has always been my break from reality when I needed it, and I feel it’s what I was meant to do with my life. Flicker of a Candle is my first novel to ever be published, although there are quite a few I’ve been meaning to finish. There will be a sequel to Flicker of a Candle called Letters of Fire coming soon. When I’m not writing, I enjoy reading, spending time with my friends and family, playing volleyball, singing, and listening to music. I hope you relish in this new series, and I want to thank you for taking your time to live the journey. Never expect the unexpected won't happen.

Book preview

Flicker of a Candle

By: Stephanie Moos

Moos

Dedicated to my parents and to my writing instructor, Jill Murphy Long. For trusting in me.

Be ready for the journey, because as the path continues, the road slopes downwards, and hidden truth becomes exposed lies.

Flicker of a Candle

Published by Stephanie Moos at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Moos.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations written in articles and reviews.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Moos, Stephanie.

Flicker of a Candle/Stephanie Moos

Supernatural-Fiction 2) Vampires-fiction 3) Adventure-fiction 4) Mystery-fiction

Prologue

February 2006

My parents always told me to never assume the unexpected wouldn’t happen. They were constantly giving me advice, but all of it was advice I never bothered listening to. Both of them worked as scientists in the SAC Jeneral Center. Don’t ask why it’s spelled like that, but for some reason my parents won’t tell me. In fact, they refuse to allow me to come with them or even see the place. My parents called my aunt to come babysit me when they got a call to help their scientist friends with an important experiment preparing to be tested. I don’t see why I need one. Seriously, I’m ten now. Don’t they think I’ve reached the ending point of requiring someone to watch over me? Still, apparently my parents think I’m not old enough to stay home alone.

So my parents called my aunt, but it turns out she was sick with the flu, and the only available babysitter I had was out of town. They gave me a quick lecture on safety and responsibility before driving away, claiming they would only be gone for a couple hours. At first I was happy. My parents were gone. I was free to do whatever I wanted. Although I earned such a privilege, I ended up sitting on the couch eating Fruit Snacks and watching cartoon shows. Eventually I got tired, so I grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet before curling into the shape of a snake on the couch, about to fall asleep when I heard something.

Footsteps. They were leading up my porch and onto the deck. The blinds were closed, so although I couldn’t see who it was, the porch lights shone on the silhouette of a man-tall, dark and burly. There were a few shadows lingering behind his. I felt a wave of nausea fill my stomach, because for some reason these people seemed familiar. I couldn’t understand how, and I was pretty sure I didn’t know them, or I would have remembered. Perhaps my parents ordered pizza for me? I lowered the volume on the television and hopped off the couch. Something stopped me. A voice, gentle and smoothly-flowing, like a rushing river, but firm at the same time. I didn’t recognize it, but at the same time it seemed slightly familiar, like I was facing a moment of déjà vu.

Don’t do it, the voice whispered, and it was so loud, so clear, it felt like the woman whispering these words of wisdom was standing right next to me. Remember your parents’ warning, Leah. Don’t answer the door. It’s them. They’re coming.

Just then, the porch lights buzzed. A relentless wind attacked the windows, and the porch lights flickered, faster and faster, then went out in a burst of color, blue and yellow light flashing in the air before shutting off. Now I was afraid. Trembling by the couch, I knelt on the rough carpet, my pink and blue polka-dotted pajamas bunching up as I crouched low to the ground, trying to anticipate what was about to happen. My shoulder-length, straight golden brown hair rested gently on my shoulders, my gaze focused on the door. I heard another noise, a clicking sound. Then the doorknob started jiggling. Gradually it became soft knocks, and transitioned to loud, furious pounding. Voices, shouts, and sharp tones demanded me to open the door before they lost patience. I ran into the kitchen, preparing to call my parents.

A whizzing, crackling noise filled the air, and a bright blue light seeped through the doorway into the room. As a wavering stream of fluorescent light trailed into the house, I watched in terror as the door blew clear off its hinges like it’d been shot out of a catapult, slamming into the wall. Three male shadows stood in the doorway with black ski masks covering their faces. I gasped, retreating into the cabinet under the sink, closing the door behind me gently with only slits of light coming through the cracks. Then I dialed my mom’s number. After a few rings she picked up. A fiery explosion went off, shaking the kitchen. I smelled smoke coming from the living room. I told her in a panicky voice what was going on. Silence followed for a minute, and as soon as Mom caught on she told me in a cold voice she’d be there in five minutes.

The line clicked on the other end, meaning she’d hung up. The crashing and booming sounds of picture frames and furniture being knocked over indicated I needed to stay where I was until my parents came, so I curled into a ball, rocking back and forth nervously. I’d always dreamt of robbers breaking into my house, seen the movies where evil men robbed from innocent people’s houses, but I didn’t think I’d actually be a victim.

All became deadly silent, which made me even more scared. Distantly I could hear footsteps tiptoeing into the kitchen, stopping just outside my hiding place. Heart pounding, I held my breath, not daring to move. When they didn’t leave, I scooted back into the corner, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Out of the middle of nowhere, the door swung open, revealing a pair of blazing golden yellow eyes. I screamed, scooting back into the corner as far as I could go. A ghostly white, wrinkly hand with long, sharp fingernails reached in and grabbed me, holding a knife to my throat as a man pulled me out of my hiding place. I struggled, but he held it tighter, causing me to gasp for breath. Without giving them any warning, I broke free of his grip. Somehow I managed to grab his knife, knock him to the ground, and leap onto his back, holding the knife. Don’t ask how I achieved something as complicated as that, but I did it. Right when I thought I’d caught the guy who tried breaking into my house, however, the two other guys started shooting at me, using real bullets. I screamed, begging them to leave me alone, but one shouted,

"Incardius minaldo!"

Something zapped through the air, bouncing off the walls and soaring back towards me, hitting me directly in the gut, and it felt as if someone was trying to shove a pound of cement inside. I screeched, stumbling away, feeling my stomach, which had some sort of sticky liquid stuck to it. When I pulled my fingers away, blood trickled from in between my fingers, dripping onto the floor. In a flash the two other guys were in front of me, teeth bared, glinting in the dim kitchen lights. I felt so scared I could have dropped to the ground and cried, if I weren’t already frozen in fear from what they might do to me.

W-what do you want? I stammered, wincing in pain from whatever just sliced my stomach. I clutched it, not wanting to die because of blood loss, since that was supposed to be one of the most painful ways to die.

Where are your parents? one demanded in an icy voice. He stepped forward, revealing a purplish face with yellow/gold/orange-colored eyes, glaring down at me. I’m sure they would love to see this.

He grabbed the blade, placing it to my throat. He leaned in so his face was only inches away from mine, revealing a dullish gray, zigzagged scar running up his face, shaped like a ‘Z.’ Where is it? he hissed.

W-where is w-what? I don’t know w-what y-you’re t-talking about, I stammered, my teeth chattering. I had goose bumps on my forearms-that’s how scared I was.

The man pressed the blade closer to the base of my neck. Liar. I know your parents told you, and I know they’re hiding it here somewhere. Now tell us where it is, or we’ll kill you.

I swear I don’t know! I yelled, stepping forward. Big mistake. The guy smacked me without touching me, but it was a strong force, like he’d punched me, and I went flying backwards, knocking my head on the edge of a cabinet. I tried sitting up, only to have an invisible hand shove me down again.

The Imperadita, he spat to his minions, never glancing away from me once. Search the house. I know it’s here somewhere.

I whimpered, trembling like crazy as the purple-whitish-skinned guy approached me, a broad, wicked smile drawn upon his face. He stroked the blade of the sword, glancing down at its gleaming silvery beam before turning a less menacing glare to me.

Tell me, Leah- He paused, tilting his head slightly to the right. That is your name, right? Leah?

H-how did you know? I whispered.

He smiled wickedly, kneeling down in front of me. I know everything, Leah, and I know if you don’t show me where the Imperadita is, well, things aren’t going to go so well.

I knew there was no use arguing anymore, even though I honestly had no clue what they were talking about, or why they wanted it.

You’ll have to remind me what it looks like, I tried saying calmly, struggling to stand up while still holding my stomach. Because I don’t remember.

He smiled and stood as well. Now that’s more like it. The Imperadita is a necklace, a pendant, a silver chain with a navy blue hexagon-shaped jewel around it.

My necklace? Instantly I knew what he was talking about. Why would they want my necklace? I couldn’t give it up-my Mimi had given it to me the day before she died. That necklace was worth at least seventy-five thousand dollars. Maybe that was the reason they wanted it so much-so they could steal it and sell it later on. Imperadita? Hopefully my parents would get here soon. Right as I wished for that, my parents stormed through the door, angrier than ever. I tried running towards them. In a flash the stranger extended his arm out to me, and I flew back into the cabinets. He grabbed my arm, pulling me up abruptly, his arms squeezing around me like a python choking its victim. The guy turned around, holding me to his chest and glaring at my parents. My dad glared back at him, guarding my mother protectively, even though she’s normally the bold and brave one.

Santania, stay back, he warned. We don’t want to get into any disputes.

My child, my mother cried, stepping forward.

Ah, Santania and Ricardo. So nice to see you again.

Again? What did he mean by that? They knew this guy?

Mom, what’s happening? I wailed, sobbing. Help me! I cried, determined to get free, but the guy wouldn’t let go of me. He pulled me back, and I swore if he had pulled any harder, he would have snapped my arm in half. I rubbed my arm, wincing.

Please don’t, sir. This is a really bad time. I’ll give you what you want. Just let my daughter go, she begged.

He grinned, exposing rows of perfect, pearl-white teeth. Then his grin vanished as quickly as it came. If either of you are trying to trick me in any way, your daughter is dead, he threatened. Got the message?

My mom nodded, her cheeks stained with tears.

I’ll go get it, Dad offered in a surprisingly calm tone, heading upstairs. The strange guy stood there, his cold fingers clasping my shoulders, holding me in place. My father returned with the necklace dangling from his closed wrist. He held the pendant so it was right in the stranger’s reach. Give me my daughter, Dad ordered, his voice so cold it could have frozen the entire room. I looked around, noticing a picture of the three of us lying on the ground, with a crack split through the middle. It must have been knocked over when these strangers broke into our house. I wanted to reach over and grab it, but at the moment I couldn’t move.

The guy smiled. Of course. He released his grip, shoving me forward until I stumbled into my mom’s arms, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

Now give me the Imperadita, the man ordered.

Behind the tears, the pendant was…glowing? No, that was impossible. Perhaps my tears were affecting my vision, or I was still overwhelmed about all that happened that I was visualizing things.

Dad hesitated, then placed the pendant into the guy’s outstretched hand. The stranger clasped his fingers around it, his golden-yellow eyes glowing intensely, like a jack-o-lantern.

Right as he turned away, however, Dad used some sort of magic on him. A burst of energy blew the strange guy into the wall. Parts of the wall crackled and crumbled to the ground. Despite the fall, he was back on his feet in only seconds.

I knew you weren’t going to let this go easy, he snapped, shooting his fist out. A zap of lightning streaked through the air, coming right for my mom and me. My dad shoved us out of the way right as the lightning bolt cut through the wall, bolts of electricity zapping and hissing, flashing a neon blue color and crackling until the lights turned off. A couple seconds later they turned back on, but it felt like looking at them with my eyes squinted, and it hurt to look. I glanced away right as an explosion sounded. The ground rippled beneath me, throwing my mother and me against the wall. Then the evil man curled his fists, and a gleaming ball of fire detonated in the middle of the room, sending flames streaming across the ceiling and along the floor. I screamed as the television became immersed in flames, and it too exploded, with such a blinding flash of light I forced myself to look away. Dad tossed the necklace to Mom.

Run! he told her, pushing both of us forward.

She hesitated, and the fireplace also went into flames. Dad noticed her hesitation and raced back to her, meeting her eye, a serious expression on his face.

You’re going to take Leah someplace safe so you don’t get killed, he ordered, his eyes flashing a dark color, though they transitioned so quickly I couldn’t tell what color they’d turned into. Mom looked away and nodded, though she seemed distressed. Obediently she raced out of the living room, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs out the exit.

Right as we were about to escape, two guys jumped in front of us, teeth bared. I screamed as they closed in on us, golden yellow eyes lighting up the bluish-black sky. Mom glared at them, and they crumpled to the ground screaming. She lifted her hands to the sky, closing her eyes and muttering a string of unintelligible words. Her eyes were a radiant electric blue when she opened them. The two guys moaned. Their eyes snapped shut as they rolled on the rocky pavement, crying out in pain. Electricity zapped them from all directions. They screamed and twitched, begging her to stop. She brought her hands to the ground, and a vibration of air slammed into the Earth, pushing me down with such a force I feared I would go clear through the wooden stairs. Mom stood and grabbed my hand, her eyes returning to their normal dark brown. She nudged me forward and led me past the house. Green and blue light flickered from inside. Wordlessly, Mom handed me my necklace. The sounds of crashing and zapping continued in a pattern, and when I looked up I saw the windows had been smashed.

Daddy, I wailed, sobbing. In that moment I felt like a little kid again, but I’d never felt so scared in my life, and I was afraid of the strangers who had broken into our house.

He’ll be fine, Mom whispered, stroking my hair. This necklace isn’t just a necklace. It’s also a protection pendant. It will protect you from any dangers you face.

I’m scared, Mom, I whimpered as I rested my tear-stained face against her shoulder, allowing the tears to run freely. That’s when she noticed my bleeding stomach. She gasped, whispering something I couldn’t understand and placing her hand on my stomach. My mother closed her eyes and waved her hand in all sorts of directions. She murmured words that sounded like a different language. A rare, almost forbidden language. A blue wave of energy spiked through the air, blowing my hair back. When I opened my eyes, my stomach was completely healed. I looked at her, amazed. Mom, how did you-

"I’ll explain later, mi hija," she promised, pulling me into an embrace.

I nodded, believing her.

Suddenly, another zapping noise echoed throughout the broken windows, louder than any other, followed by a cry of agony and pain that seemed to last for eternity before finally breaking off.

It was my dad.

Dad! I screamed, wailing. Mom put a hand over my mouth.

It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You’ll see, my mother assured me shakily. Footsteps thumped down the stairs to the porch, and my mom escorted me to the backyard, hiding me behind a tangled mess of bushes that were so prickly it felt like we were standing in a group of cactuses.

She whispered something else, and although I didn’t feel much different, I felt a lot calmer, like this had only turned out to be a nightmare, trying to convince me none of this was happening. But I knew deep in my heart, it was. The three guys stepped out of the house, searching the area.

They got away, sir, one of the men told the purple/white-faced guy, who looked furious and a little tired. He stared right at me. My blood ran cold. Then he looked away, as if he’d never seen me.

"We’ll find them once we get our power back, but I’m sure the cops are coming, and they’re going to want to know what happened. It would be best if we got out of here. And when that time comes, we will have the Imperadita. Those failed Unnaturals won’t have it forever."

In the blink of an eye, they had vanished, leaving me with so many questions: Why did they want the Imperadita so badly? What were they talking about? Why did they have yellow eyes?

The house was destroyed when Mom and I returned. Furniture was flipped over and broken glass lay shattered on the floor. Precious items were scattered and broken, torn to shreds, like the bluebird I’d made for my mother in pottery class. She looked genuinely heartbroken, and furious. I could see vengeance in her eyes, which made me recall how strong, stubborn, and determined she was, not at all like me. A small, weak fire licked at the furniture, kindling and gaining strength the more we watched the lustrous flames dance in the cold, brisk wind. I looked over, only to see my dad sprawled out across the floor, his eyes closed.

Daddy! I screamed, rushing over and hugging him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sobbed, squeezing him as hard as I could. I looked up at Mom with a tear-streaked face. He’s just asleep, right?

Mom started wailing when she saw him, and she knelt down, putting her hands to her heart in a prayer position and bringing her head down so it was resting on my dad’s chest. Then she looked at me, her makeup smeared. Her face was glowing, teardrops stinging her face.

He’s not going to wake up, Leah, she whispered.

That’s when I realized my dad was gone.

Later, after mourning for my father’s loss, the ambulance came to take his body away. Mom and I went with them. The firefighters and police came to investigate, but I knew the strangers were smart-they had probably found some way to cover up their tracks so no one knew they had killed my dad. I didn’t want to think about it anymore, since my head hurt so badly from hitting my head on the cabinet. My mom didn’t do anything to heal me. She was probably too depressed to do anything. In fact, she was barely moving. She looked like a statue, which isn’t normal for her. In fact, she didn’t say a word the whole drive. I decided not to bother her, since she’d probably get emotional if I said anything.

While my mom and I stayed in the hospital, I thought of the memories my dad and I had shared together-all the days of when I was younger-when we would shoot hoops out back or play soccer and volleyball in the backyard. He even taught me how to fish and play the guitar. My mom never really found any interest in music until she met my dad, but now, I didn’t think she was going to allow it anymore. I stayed in my room, holding onto the few things I had left: my teddy bear, charred from the fire, one of my pillows, also burnt, and a black dog I’d painted at The Potter’s Wheel. It was the only piece of china that hadn’t been broken. I toyed with it in my hands when someone knocked on the door.

Come in, I called weakly, still curled into a ball. A nurse with short, curly red hair and green eyes entered, giving me a sweet smile. She held something behind her back, and I hoped it was something she’d found at our house, which had been burnt to ashes, as I could see in the newspaper that lay on the glass table next to my bed.

She gave me a warm smile. Are you feeling better?

I nodded, though I didn’t smile. She pulled out something from behind her back, handing it to me. I recognized it instantly-it was the cracked picture of our family that I’d seen on the floor, and something else.

A guitar with smudges of black on the sides, with my dad’s name on the edge in his fancy cursive writing. The one he used to play songs for my mom and me when I was little, songs that helped me fall asleep so I didn’t have nightmares. Eventually I grew old enough to sing along, then I started taking lessons from him. The memories made my eyes brim with tears, salty droplets racing down my cheeks. I smiled at the nurse, gratefully taking the guitar and picture. She smiled and ran a hand through my hair before getting up and gently closing the door. That was one of those moments where I didn’t need to hear her speak to know what she was saying-the nurse was sorry, and she hoped I would recover soon.

A few hours after the nurse left, another disaster struck. I was sitting in bed looking at the cracked picture of the three of us when another nurse came in, seeming worried. I began crying, because I thought this meant my mom would die as well. The nurse shushed me, saying my mother wasn’t going to die, but somehow her memory was failing. She was suffering from amnesia. I asked when my mom would stop remembering me, and the nurse replied she could lose her memory in as little as two days. Not only that, but my mom also wouldn’t talk. They thought maybe she also had a speech disorder, but I know my mom, and I know she loves to talk. Still, when I went in to see her, she appeared much quieter than usual. I began bawling again, feeling like a little kid as I embraced her. In a couple days, my own mother would completely forget who I was.

After the incident, someone called my aunt, telling her what happened. The doctor said this was a type of amnesia they’d never seen before, and didn’t know if it could be cured as fast as normal. Since my mom had lost her memory, we stayed with my aunt, who offered to take care of us. Unfortunately, she lived all the way in Salvadore Springs, a place I’d never been to, so since we had to take an unbearably long plane flight, which was spent doing nothing. My mom slept and watched the TV shows being shown, asking me who the people were. I had to either tell her who they were or that I didn’t know. She didn’t remember the characters of her favorite TV shows, which got me more upset.

When we got to Salvadore Springs, Mom and I took a taxi to my aunt’s house, since my mom didn’t remember how to drive. My aunt looked extremely thrilled to see us. Aunt Elicia looked confused and hurt as Mom pushed by and seated herself on the couch. I told her all that happened, and she looked genuinely shocked, not to mention saddened as she glanced at her sister, who stared blankly at the television screen. Aunt Elicia said until my mom started receiving her memory, we could stay with her. She told me I could stay in the upstairs bedroom. I sighed, placing my belongings down. Then I took out my guitar before seating myself on the small bed.

This was my new life. I had to learn to get used to how things had changed. I longed for my old life, however-I wouldn’t get to see my friends at school anymore, and I had to go to the middle school next year. Not only that, but I was also going to a school with a bunch of kids I didn’t even know. Never in my life had I been the new kid-we’d lived in California for a couple years, but now I would have to make new friends. That’d be hard. Most kids thought I was weird, and to them, I’m anything but normal.

As if my necklace heard me, there was humming noise, followed by a vibration whizzing on my neck. When I looked down, I realized I was still wearing my necklace. This time it was really glowing, although I didn’t know why. Even though I had many questions to ask, I knew since my mom’s memory was gone, there was no way I’d be getting answers now. Not unless my aunt had something to do with it, which was unlikely. So here I was fatherless, my mom had amnesia, and I had questions that would never be answered.

During the summertime, my aunt noticed how depressed I was, so she suggested going to this summer camp for kids. She read in the brochure it was basically a camp where you learned how to survive in the wilderness and do arts and crafts, things like that. I decided to try it out. I packed all I needed, and my aunt drove me to summer camp. The drive might have been short, but the roads were bumpy until we reached one part that was paved to perfection. My back felt sore when we arrived. The camp managers were awfully nice, but I wasn’t so thrilled about my roommates, who just so happened to be Nicole and Emma, my two worst enemies. Apparently this camp was for kids all around the United States, and unfortunately Nicole and Emma had decided to give it a try. My luck. Luckily another girl got put in our cabin, but I still wasn’t what you would call a happy camper.

The cabin was pretty roomy, with six bunks and windows that had protective screens over them and writing on the darkly-stained wooden walls. The roof bent in just slightly, with a few lights that helped our visibility, but not much. It was only half after eleven, so the sun was shining and we could see perfectly fine. Nicole and Emma weren’t thrilled to see me, and I felt the same way. Since we had counselors who would be staying in the same cabin as us, I knew they wouldn’t bully me as long as the two counselors were around. The other girl’s name was Kristine. She was pretty short, with emerald light green eyes, pale skin, straight strawberry blond hair a few inches below shoulder-length, and light freckles dotting her face. She just said hi to me, nothing more, so I assumed Nicole and Emma had already earned her friendship. I was alone.

The three main counselors greeted us up front with smiles on their faces, telling us they were going to give everyone a tour in case we got lost in the woods. They took us down to a huge log cabin, which was the cafeteria. Although it might have been spacious, the door creaked when it opened and slammed when someone closed it, not to mention there wasn’t much of a heater in that place. It felt like being in an icebox, even though the sun should have been keeping us warm, and the wooden floors creaked and groaned every time I stepped on one of the boards. The lights were round and bright, not at all like the ones in our cabins. In fact, they were so bright I had to squint in order to get through the cafeteria without being blinded.

Then we split into three groups and each counselor took us someplace different around the campgrounds. The counselor I was with led us to a huge tent shaped like a teepee, and she said this was the arts and crafts tent, where we would be coming tomorrow. It was large and roomy, even though half of it was open. No doors blocked the blazing sunlight, since it faced directly towards the sun. The arts and crafts teacher greeted us with a sweet smile on her face, saying she couldn’t wait to work with us and that we would love it here. Then she went on to say this camp was especially great for unique people, kids who might be interested in becoming an artist someday. I decided to give it a try, so I signed up at the front, with a few kids behind me. Nicole and Emma stood next to the 95% of other kids who thought art was stupid, snickering at me and the other five kids who’d decided to try the class.

Art is for kids who are stupid losers. They don’t matter to anyone, Nicole muttered.

I blushed, trying to ignore her, but the comment stung a little. It didn’t help that Kristine was giggling, covering her mouth to stop herself from being heard.

I didn’t even know you could draw, Leah! Emma exclaimed, fake gasping.

Nicole let out an audible sneer. "She can’t. Look at her. She’s a total loser. How can someone like her have talent?"

Emma, Nicole, Kristine, and practically everyone else started laughing.

You’re one to talk, someone snapped, and the laughter ceased.

Who said that? Nicole demanded.

Yeah, who do you think you’re talking to? Emma added. Kristine bit her lip, hung her head and didn’t say anything. For some reason she looked slightly nervous.

I think I’m talking to the ugliest girl on the planet, came the girl’s voice, prickly and ice-cold, fading as she faced Nicole. Even though I didn’t know her, I felt as if I’d known her my entire life. She seemed so familiar, but I knew I’d never met or seen her. I decided to back off and hope she didn’t challenge these two anymore. The poor girl obviously didn’t know how much Emma and Nicole could destroy her life if anyone tried standing up to them.

You’re one to talk, shorty, Emma snickered.

Kn-knock it off, I ordered, though it wasn’t very strong or intimidating.

"Oh, so you’re going to make me?" she teased.

Girls! Let’s please stop this argument! the counselor exclaimed, although she kept giving me these strange glances.

You heard her, Leah. Back off, Nicole ordered.

Fine, I replied, rolling my eyes as I stepped away. Then we continued the rest of the tour, and by then it was lunchtime. Someone rang the big copper cowbell down by the front, saying it was time to eat.

As we went down to lunch, a girl I didn’t know introduced herself. Then I remembered she was the one who had stood up to Nicole and Emma. Her name was Callie, and she claimed to be Kristine’s sister. So that explained why Kristine had looked so nervous. She said she was sorry they’d all been so mean to me, and if she ever caught them doing anything rude to me again, she would beat up Kristine, Nicole and Emma, all at once. She bragged about being tough enough to do that, since Kristine acted like a baby, and Nicole and Emma were the girliest ten-year-olds she knew.

I don’t know about that. They’re pretty mean, I warned, recalling when Nicole and Emma had bullied me back in kindergarten.

No, they may seem tough, but they couldn’t hurt a fly. I guarantee it, she stated, and we headed into the cafeteria. My eyes stung as I struggled to see through the poor lighting, which is also when the door creaked so loudly it sounded like nails scraping along a chalkboard, then it slammed behind me. Callie and I both jumped before getting in the long line of kids.

Everyone was chatting and laughing, having the time of their lives, as if they were watching a comedy movie. I felt relieved when I didn’t see Nicole, Emma, or Kristine anywhere. The many food choices made up for the poor lighting and loud door, however. They had so many types of food it was insane-freshly made mashed potatoes, hot macaroni and cheese, recently cooked hamburgers, steak, and chicken for the meat lovers; salad, French fries, juicy-looking strawberries, grapes, watermelon, and crisp apple slices.

The dessert looked the best-trays filled with different choices of pie, such as strawberry, chocolate, pumpkin, vanilla, and even some with cherry or raspberry filling. There was also ice cream, many choices of candy, cupcakes, and popsicles. My appetite returned instantly as I gathered a scoop of mashed potatoes and dumped them on my paper plate, along with some mac ‘n’ cheese, apple slices, and a piece of chocolate pie.

Then Callie and I chose an old, wooden table to sit at outside, since it was warmer there than it was in the cafeteria, and we started talking. Unlike Kristine, Callie was outgoing and fun, constantly chatting and making me laugh. She didn’t look like Kristine at all-she had ocean blue eyes instead of green, and long, wavy honey blond hair. She wasn’t as pale and didn’t have freckles. She was way prettier than Kristine. The sun glared at us as we ate our lunches, talking about school. Then we got onto the subject of family.

I have a brother, too, she claimed. He’s an eighth grader, so he’s gonna go to the high school next year. She took a bite of her macaroni and cheese. Do you have any siblings? she asked with her mouth full.

I shook my head. I’m an only child.

She glanced at me enviously. Lucky! I hate my sister. She’s like a mouse. An annoying, wimpy mouse.

I chuckled. She’s really quiet, and I think she hates me.

Callie shook her head. She doesn’t hate you; she just wants to be popular.

What good is it to be popular? Even though that was my one wish once, I knew everyone would always think I was weird. I didn’t care anymore, which helped me focus on important things like school and sports.

That’s what I’m wondering. I could care less. I hate cliques, so I sit with kids who aren’t normal so they don’t feel alone. I know how that goes, and I don’t want them to feel the same way. Then we become friends and make fun of the popular kids together.

I dug into my mashed potatoes. How many friends do you have?

She shrugged. I have a few, but I’m not popular or anything.

I nodded. I don’t have any. Everyone thinks I’m weird.

That’s what everyone thinks of me, too, but I try to become friends with others who are somewhat like me, and we kind of click. She took another bite of her macaroni. I might not have known you long, but I think you’re really nice. Are your parents nice, too?

I felt my chest squeeze with pain from witnessing my father’s death, and knowing my mom didn’t know who I was anymore. Glancing away, I looked down at my necklace, which flickered slightly before dimming back to its natural navy blue shade. For a minute, neither of us spoke. Callie was smart enough to realize I didn’t want to talk about it.

I understand, she said. Don’t worry. You aren’t the only one. I’m adopted, too.

I’m not adopted, I told her, confused.

She looked at me, cocking her head to the side, like a puppy glancing at a treat in its owner’s hand. I thought you were trying to tell me your parents died.

Well, one of them did. My mom lost her memory. She doesn’t remember who I am, so my aunt is re-teaching her everything she needs to know, like how to cook and stuff. I took another bite of my mashed potatoes. The amnesia she has is really strong, so she can’t remember even the simplest things, not even how to count. She’ll have to re-learn everything all over again, which could take a long time.

Callie frowned. That’s so sad. I’m sorry. She looked around cautiously, then turned her gaze back to me, her voice now only a whisper. "Promise not to tell, but Kristine and I were adopted. Both of our parents died. My dad drowned, and my mom died in a car crash. They died when Kristine and I were