A Diamond in My Pocket
* * *
Clara never came to my room.
However, Ms. Wood visited and told me to wear something nice tonight. Apparently, when visitors join the clan for dinner, we dress up and eat in the formal dining hall on the second floor. After she left my room, I heard her continue down the hall, giving the same message at each door, as well as a reminder to remember their manners. I wonder if that means being nicer to newbies. Probably not.
My seat at the little-kid table gives me a view of the entire dining hall and its occupants. I stick out like a sore thumb, being sixteen and sitting among kids whose voices haven’t even begun to change. I feel as if I could be their babysitter.
As much as I stand out, the Mind-Readers stand out more. They look like a couple of pigeons amongst a flock of swans. I find it amusing how the adult Runners are hesitant to sit too close to the Readers, and they seem to not make eye contact with them either. Perhaps they’re more like chickens than swans.
I glance around and discover Chris is staring at me. This time, he averts his gaze and continues talking to his friends. At the table next to Chris sits Beth, Justin, and Will. I’ve seen Justin a couple of times since last night. Each time he sees me he mutters the four-letter M word. I ignore him. I’ve come to the conclusion Beth and Justin are an item.
My attention is pulled away to the main doors where food carts are being wheeled into the dining hall. Instead of the cafeteria-style lunch line, servers bring us our meals—but the food selection isn’t any different. Nuts, nuts, and more nuts, plus fruits, vegetables, and fish. The Mind-Readers merely push their food around on their plates. They probably don’t eat foods like these at their compound, if they have a compound.
I catch Chris looking at me on several occasions throughout dinner, and it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I wonder if he can see my cheeks heat up. Hopefully not. But a couple of times I peek in his direction and see him talking and laughing with his companions. Their topics of discussions don’t include me, for once, but are about something funny that happened out on the basketball court earlier in the afternoon. Will makes a hand motion of something hitting his face, probably a ball, and the table bursts into laughter. Chris smiles a little, but he seems too distracted by his own thoughts to laugh aloud like his friends.
“May I have everyone’s attention?” Clara stands and speaks loudly. “As some of you are aware already, three of our comrades are missing. Dirk, John, and Macey never reached their delivery destination three days ago. Our guests here tonight bring word of three of their own missing clan members, and the Seers and Healers are also missing three.”
Alarmed and worried murmurs echo through the crowd and begin to grow in volume.
“We’ve yet to receive a ransom request and have not been given an explanation as to their whereabouts, but we will continue to investigate until we find them and bring everyone home. Please continue to use extreme caution when out of doors, and if you pick up on any suspicious activity, report it at once. Thank you.”
The kids at my table start talking to each other, excluding me from their conversation, of course, but I sit and listen to them and gather as much information as possible.
“It’s got to be the Death Clan behind this,” one girl says.
“No, it’s the CIA. They’ve been staked out, spying on us. They even have insiders here at the compound,” another girl says.
A boy to my right exclaims, “You’re crazy! Our Seer or Mind-Reader would have rooted out a spy.”
“Not if the spy had really good blocking abilities,” the first girl spits back at him.
Another boy, sitting across the table from me, points his finger at me and says, “Maybe she’s the spy.”
They all turn and look in my direction. “What?” I laugh. “Maybe all of you are the spies.”
That gets them going. The bickering and name calling begins and grows rapidly until Clara has to come to our table and put a halt to the commotion. I can’t help but laugh—until I raise my head and find Chris glancing in my direction again. What is his problem? I wish I knew.
“Please excuse me,” I say. Not that anyone cares I’m leaving. I walk out to the floodlight-lit veranda. The sun is still low in the sky.
Beth comes out behind me and closes the door behind her. “Calli, you better not do anything stupid at the time trials tomorrow.”
“Or what? You’ll make my life even more miserable and make sure everyone talks bad about me behind my back? Oh, wait, I remember, you’ll beat me up.”
Her tone takes on a threatening edge. “This new assignment is most likely related to our missing friends, and if you go and beat out the fastest, you’ll be placed on the team. You don’t know crap about our world, so don’t go screwing it up by being a showoff!”
I don’t answer her. I just turn my back and wait until the door closes. The cool night air, along with the pure and fresh smell of the pine trees and cut grass, revitalizes my senses. Four adults, probably tutors or hired clan members, walk across the lawn to the four cabins. I turn back to the dining room, where almost everyone has filed out, except Chris. He stays in his chair, watching me.
Clara comes out to the veranda. “Are you okay, Calli?”
“As good as I can be, I suppose. When will you show me the Shadows?”
“Not for a couple more hours. The sun has to go all the way down before the Demons come out.”
“Sounds like a bad dream.”
“You don’t know how right you are. Meet me in my office after dark, and bring the shirt you were wearing earlier.”