Princess Supergirl

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One:

 

 

“There may be a million worlds in the Milky Way Galaxy alone

which are at this moment inhabited by other intelligent beings.”—Carl Sagan—

 

 

Zormna Clendar awoke early Monday morning that summer with her bag for cheer camp already packed and sitting by her bedroom door. She dressed as quietly as possible, taking care not to make the floor boards of her attic room creak, which, as a feat, was almost impossible. Just opening a door made the air pressure in the entire house change. Then everyone would get out of bed to see what had opened. And she didn’t need anyone waking up as she snuck out of the house that morning—especially the parents.

It had only been a few weeks into June. The McLenna parents had already blamed her for ingratitude a number of times that summer—even after their eldest son Todd had made them promise before he went off to spring semester at college to be a little nicer to her as a graduation present to him. But then promises like that could not last forever.  

Besides, how could Zormna respond to their anger and blame? The McLennas had taken her in when she had nobody. They had fed her. They had housed her. They made sure she wore the right clothing so she wouldn’t look weird. They even made sure she went to school and had an education. She should be grateful, right? She shouldn’t be skulking around like she wanted to flee the place. She shouldn’t be dropping hints that she ought to become an emancipated minor. Or, that was how they saw it.

Truth was, while slumping against her mattress in the dark, the only gratitude Zormna felt towards Jennifer’s parents was for them not trying to kill her when they found out who her family really was. Her big secret.

Honestly, Zormna hadn’t known the real secret until recently. The only thing she had known for years was that her family was hunted, and all her relatives were dead. Her last living relative, whom she had intended to move in with when she had come to Pennington Heights almost four months ago, was her great aunt. But when Zormna had arrived, she had learned the old woman was a famous lunatic and more than two years dead. That meant she was alone.

So, yes. She ought to be grateful.

However, the tension around the McLenna household had become so heavy that Zormna was impatient to get away, even if it was just for a month-long camp.

Besides, she was paying her own way. In fact, she had been paying her own way for while—though Zormna never mentioned to Jennifer McLenna that her parents were now making her pay for room and board.

Zormna gently pushed the door to her room open and peeked out.

The hallway was clear. It was also dark.

Carefully ducking through the small cupboard-sized entryway, as the attic was an impromptu guest room (which the McLenna parents also frequently reminded her she ought to be grateful for), Zormna entered the hallway and crept light-footed over the carpet. She safely reached the top landing to the stairs and peered over the banister.

Still no one.

Zormna gently went down the stairs, keeping close to the wall to reduce creaking noises. When she reached the ground floor, she peered around the banister to the front room then through the kitchen to the side door. Both had screen doors, of which the kitchen’s made the most noise. So Zormna soft-footed her way around the stairs through the family room, passing the wall of photographs of the McLenna children and family together. All redheads. All fair-skinned if not freckled. Two boys. Two girls. Boy, girl, boy, girl in succession. Only three were still living at home. Todd was off at college.

She passed into the living room. This room was pristine, with white carpet, curio cabinets and ethnic decorations set about to look fashionable but did not say much about the family at all. In a way, it was like the public face the McLennas presented to the world—all for show and entirely untrue.

Zormna passed the door to the study. She reached for the handle to the front door, just an inch to freedom.

“I knew you’d try to sneak out,” Mr. McLenna said from the dark family room.

Zormna turned with a jerk. Jennifer’s father sat in a far seat in a dark corner on the other side of the living room—a first. They only ever used that room to meet guests.

“I’m just going early,” she said with a thick Irish-like accent, swallowing the dryness in her mouth.

But Mr. McLenna shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re staying here until after the sun rises and Mrs. McLenna and I have had a word with you. Besides, you have to have an escort.”

Reflexively groaning, Zormna then caught herself. She didn’t want to upset this man any more than she already had.

“Are you sassing me?” he said.

Too late… Zormna thought. However, she replied with a stiffer chin, returning back to her military training, “No, sir.”

“You do realize that we are letting you stay with us at great expense,” he said for the thousandth time. “Even though you don’t deserve it after all the trouble you have brought here.”

Zormna averted her eyes, which were dark green and often unsettled people.

“Hey! Look at me when I am talking to you, young lady!”

Without moving her head, she heaved a breath, the muscles in her jaw tightening with a peek to his face.

“You put our family in the sights of the FBI—”

“Which you could get out of if you just let me become an emancipated minor,” Zormna retorted under her breath.

He growled. “That is not happening! We are not going to reward your disrespectful behavior with emancipation. Besides, you are only fourteen! And fourteen-year-old girls do not live by themselves!”

“But I have a house, for pity’s sake!” Zormna gestured out to the street, meaning the home her great aunt had left her. “Let me use it!”

“You don’t deserve it!” he shouted, undoubtedly waking everyone in the house. Everyone would be able to hear him. The walls were so thin after all.

Zormna did not respond.

Deserve. Not deserve. His argument wasn’t grounded in logic really. It was grounded in centuries of learned hate. Fact was, she had done nothing to deserve the bitter treatment from the McLenna adults either. And more, she had actually been protecting them this entire time. But she wasn’t going to mention it to him. He knew, though he may have purposely forgotten.

Mr. McLenna walked Zormna back into the family room with a hand on the nape of her neck to steer her, where he sat her down on the couch. And they both waited until his wife came downstairs to make breakfast. Very few words were spoken. And since it was a summer morning, the kids got up even later. Though they had heard the shouting, most had rolled over and gone back to sleep. Some took comfort in that it meant they would get a chance to say good-bye before Zormna disappeared for a month.

Mindy and Andrew (elementary school and Jr. High age respectively) were the first down, going to breakfast while their father was finally leaving to work. Mrs. McLenna had Zormna cleaning the oven around that time, elbow-grease style with baking soda and vinegar. When Jennifer (who was sixteen and in the same grade as Zormna) arrived, rubbing her eyes, she shot her mother a dirty look when she found Zormna on her knees with her head inside the oven.

“Don’t let her push you in,” Jennifer muttered, walking by to the breakfast bar.

Her mother set her hands onto her hips. “Honestly!”

Zormna pulled out from the oven, delivering Jennifer one of her million that-reference-went-completely-over-my-head looks. If Jennifer hadn’t known that Zormna wasn’t a dumb blonde, she would have taken the girl’s blank stare as that. But knowing where Zormna was from, it was clear the girl had never heard the story of Hansel and Gretel.

“Why are you making her scrub the oven?” Jennifer asked in exasperation. “She doesn’t even use it.”

Her mother’s lips thinned into a line. “She eats at our table.”

“Barely.” Jennifer rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen counter where cereal was waiting.

“Ok, I’m done,” Zormna said, rising. “Can I go now?”

Mrs. McLenna fixed a stern look at her. “It is not done. Rinse it out. And when Jennifer is dressed, she can walk you there.”

Inclined to moan in protest, Zormna thought twice about it and went to the sink to get water. Jennifer could tell Zormna was less upset about cleaning the oven and more upset about needing an escort. Zormna was—or had been—one of the most independent individuals Jennifer had ever met. And Zormna hated waiting on people when she could accomplish something alone.

But Jennifer jogged back upstairs to her room to quickly get changed. She knew Zormna was looking forward to this camp, and for that matter, so was she. It meant that her parents would quit shooting dirty looks daily across the dinner table at the fiery-haired blonde. It also meant that she could spend uninterrupted time with her boyfriend Kevin, without any worry of a crisis happening at home, such as the FBI breaking in to search for aliens. It also meant that Zormna would be happier, and therefore more pleasant in a month’s time.

Jennifer had endeavored to get her parents to let Zormna move out of the house as an emancipated minor as Zormna wished. But her parents truly did see emancipation as a reward to Zormna rather than a solution for their problems. Besides, they hated the girl way too much to ever want to give her anything good again.

So, after throwing on a tee shirt and some shorts along with some flip-flops, Jennifer hopped down the stairs and announced she was ready to go.

“What about breakfast?” her mother protested.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer grabbed a toaster pastry out from the box, tore open the package and stuffed them both into the toaster.

“That is not real food,” her mother muttered.

“Then why do we stock it in our cupboards?” Jennifer asked.

Her mother tossed up her hands and walked away.

Zormna was now sweaty and smeared with oven-grease. Her curly, reddish-gold hair stuck out at angles, parts of it stringy with sweat—and she still looked gorgeous. She could pose for action movies. On most occasions, this would make Jennifer jealous, but she didn’t have time for that today. Instead, Jennifer grabbed Zormna’s bag and waved for them to go.

“Come on!”

Wiping off her grimy hands, Zormna nodded with a hop after her. She barely gave Jennifer’s mother a look before she smiled with a wave to the younger McLenna kids.

“See you in about three weeks!” Zormna said to them.

Mindy hugged her around the middle.

“That is not necessary,” their mother snapped, mostly shooting Zormna venomous looks rather than any look at her youngest daughter.

But Andrew also came up to her and said, “Please come back. We don’t want you to run away.”

Their mother moaned, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m not running away,” Zormna said, suppressing a chuckle. “It’s just camp.”

But Andrew and Mindy both stared up at her, their eyes begging. “We mean after camp.”

With a peek to their mother, Zormna gently dislodged herself from them and hurried to the front door where Jennifer was waiting with two piping hot toaster pastries in hand. “See you later.”

They waved, Mindy sniffling back tears.

Once out the door and onto the street, Jennifer sighed with relief. “Now that’s over.”

“Do they really think I’ll run away?” Zormna asked, looking back to the house. She took one toaster pastry from Jennifer, nibbling on it.

“You did once before,” Jennifer said, barely shrugging. She then bit into hers.

Sighing, Zormna did not argue over that. She had run away, once, after a huge argument with Jennifer’s parents over a month ago. But she had come back. Or rather, she had been dumped back into her neighborhood by the FBI who had kidnapped her for three days. It was a long story which she only remembered parts of, and had headaches when she attempted to recall it.

Jennifer did not talk much on their way to the Hendersons’ home. The plan was for Zormna to stay over at the Hendersons’ one night then leave early with Brian and Joy Henderson to the school so she would not miss the bus for camp. The only reason she wasn’t just leaving from the McLennas’ was because Jennifer’s parents refused to have anyone up at five a.m. ‘escorting her like she was royalty’—their words. Zormna tried to ignore them. 

Unfortunately, their walk through the streets of Pennington to the Henderson home would not be unaccompanied. It was a disturbingly annoying fact that an FBI sedan, or agent, would follow them. In this case, the sedan that usually sat in front of the McLenna’s house followed them at a distance. It wasn’t like the FBI didn’t know where she was going. They listened to and watched Zormna daily. But their presence creeped her out.

But why? Was it really as they claimed? Were they waiting for the killer of Zormna’s great aunt to pounce? Or were they doing the whole tinfoil-hat spying on her thing, thinking she was an alien like her great aunt had claimed to be? Jennifer had long decided that it was none of her business. She wanted to remain out of it.

The sedan parked down the block while Jennifer and Zormna approached the Hendersons’ split-level, two-story home that housed the family of seven rambunctious children. Zormna had been there only once before when their parents weren’t home, but she liked them. The Hendersons were honest, earnest sort of people. They wore their hearts on their sleeves and their faith like a suit of armor. And though Zormna had never been particularly religious, she admired them for theirs.

Mr. Henderson was out front with his twin sons, Ammon and Moroni, weeding the front flower bed. The twins would be freshmen the next year at Pennington High, and they were all-American Boy Scout types like their older brother Brian. When they spotted Zormna and Jennifer on the sidewalk, they immediately groaned.

“Agh! You’re the one who is coming over?” one of the twins exclaimed in dramatic protest. “Martian girl?”

“You’re way too early!” the other called out. “Go back home!”

Zormna halted on the curb. She looked to Jennifer. Truth was, she had originally hoped to sneak off to her great aunt’s old home and hang out there by herself until lunch time. She had lots of cleaning to do at the place, especially after the yard sale they had held the week prior—getting rid of all the useless knickknacks her great aunt had accumulated in that old house over the years. She intended to donate the leftovers to the Salvation Army.

“Martian girl?” Their father looked back, barely recognizing Zormna. She had met him briefly, and only once. A clean-cut fatherly kind of guy, he had been at her great aunt’s house a couple months ago with the twins and Brian, helping remove a huge wood carving her great aunt had, to take to the dump with a whole bunch of other junk. “Why are you calling her…?”

“Because,” one of the brothers, Ammon probably, snorted as he said, “This guy Darren Asher thinks she’s an alien from Mars.”

His brother fell on his knees at Zormna’s feet like he was begging, immediately bursting into song: “Martian Girl from planet V, will you marry me, wo, wo, wo, wo, wo…”

Zormna raised her eyebrows at him. The Hendersons did that occasionally—treated their life like a musical.

Their father rolled his eyes as Moroni chimed in: “She came from outer space, she came to see, if Earth was good, wo, wo, wo, wo, wo…”

“Hey! Don’t be mean.” Their father pushed them back from Zormna then turned with a smile to her as he extended a hand. “Come on in. I’m Mr. Henderson. You can take a load off in the house.”

“But Dad,” Moroni whined. “We won’t be done for a least an hour. So, Joy and Brian can’t keep her away from the video games.”

Jennifer waved, backing off to the road. She knew Zormna was safe there. Truth was, no one wanted Zormna walking alone anywhere after the whole FBI kidnapping incident. Of course, it was all for different reasons.

Zormna raised her eyebrows at Moroni, smirking, while she ended up shaking their father’s hand. It felt weird. “I didn’t come to play your video games.”

“No—you came to dominate them,” Ammon snapped back. He then looked at his dad. “She completely blew away the top score. My ranking was totally cool before she touched the machine.” But the brothers were snickering without malice.

That was the other thing about the Hendersons—they liked to joke around about nearly everything.  

“Joy and Brian are out back,” Mr. Henderson said. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable on the back porch.”

Shrugging, feeling self-conscious, Zormna went to the gate where he pointed. Zormna let herself into the side yard.

Lush and green, the Hendersons’ backyard was almost twice the size of the McLennas’ stark lawn and geometric flower beds, and two-thirds larger than her great aunt’s yard which mostly had grass, a stone walkway and various flower-bearing bushes. This one, full of all sorts of plants, was almost like Eden… yet trimmed and tastefully done. The near fence was attached to a trellis covered in vine plants—all of which Zormna was unfamiliar with as plants alone were foreign and new to her. Hers had been a military life up until she had moved to Pennington. And the amount of green she saw around her in the Pennington neighborhood often overwhelmed her.

Going further along, she passed the house and entered the larger yard. Most of the yard was wide lawn with a home-built fort made from wood, old tires and random parts. The other part was portioned off in a grid of six raised plots where the remaining children were pulling weeds from the plant beds. They had some vegetables just starting, while others were already producing what Zormna guessed was fruit. And though Zormna technically understood the reasons why the weeding was done, part of her brain was screaming that it was crazy to pull any living thing out of the earth. Gardening itself was fascinatingly new.

She walked over to where Joy and her little sisters were humming while weeding plants which were in a set of wire frames. They were dressed in grubby cutoff pants and tee shirts. The song Zormna recognized. But she did not know the words to it. It was light and cheerful—and from a movie, she believed. They looked inclined to burst out singing any second.

Joy casually lifted her eyes from her work and saw her. Yelping with a jump, Joy pressed her hand to her heart. “Zormna! Don’t sneak up like that!”

Her sisters, Ruth and Makayla had also jumped but immediately started laughing, pointing at their older sister. They only got louder as Joy blushed and slapped their pointing fingers away, saying, “You jumped too!”

Brian stopped at the sound and stared from across the yard where he was pulling a machine from the shed. Zormna saw him out of the corner of her eye. In jeans and a grubby tee shirt, tanned by the sun from hard work, he had that All-American boy look about him which Zormna liked. He was Friendship incarnate. He waved, shaking his head. His younger brother Daniel looked up from his garden plot then rolled his eyes when he recognized Zormna.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until later,” Joy murmured, getting onto her feet. She slapped the mud off her hands.

Ducking her head with a shrug, Zormna said, “I know. But…”

Joy just shook it off. “Never mind. Only we won’t be done for a while, and I’d hate it if you had to sit and wait.”

“I can help,” Zormna offered, looking keenly to the plants.

“Oh, no!” Joy protested as if scandalized, her face coloring with health. “You can’t be made to do yardwork! You’re our guest!”

But Zormna shrugged again. “I’m okay. I don’t mind. I think it is interesting.”

Ruth and Makayla stared as if she were crazy.

“Interesting?” Joy also stared, flabbergasted.

Their mother walked by, equally dressed for dirty yard work with gloves and a flannel shirt over her tee shirt and hair up in a kerchief, carrying out some gardening claws. “Now that’s a good attitude.”

Ruth and Makayla groaned. So did Joy, but not so dramatically.

Their mother stuck out a gloved hand to Zormna, smiling kindly. “I’m Joy’s mom. Are you…?”

Zormna stared at her. The woman gave the very impression of health—which was a Henderson trait. Bright-eyed with robust color to her cheeks, she smiled at Zormna with an open expression.

“She’s the girl staying over tonight,” Joy said quickly. “Zormna Clendar. She’s riding with us to school for camp. Remember?”

Her mother slowly nodded. But Zormna could see in her looks that Joy had told her mother a lot more about her than just the facts she had just mentioned. Zormna recognized pity in the woman’s eyes. And a degree of motherly concern. She had not seen that look in many months—the last time being when Mrs. McLenna did not know who she really was. Zormna wondered vaguely if Mrs. Henderson would also get angry violent if she found out her true heritage.

“You’re early,” was all Mrs. Henderson said with friendly chastisement.

Zormna blushed. “I know. I just…”

“Needed to get out of the house?” A knowing look was in Mrs. Henderson’s eyes.

Zormna peeked to Brian who pretended not to be paying any attention to the conversation. “Yeah…”

Opening her arms, Mrs. Henderson said, “Well, we’re happy to have you here. Come over anytime you need to get away.”

And Zormna knew she meant it. Sincerity was another Henderson trait… when they weren’t teasing.

They let her pull on some gloves, and they pointed to the small shoots they were uprooting from the garden soil.

“Grab them at the base, by the roots,” Joy said and demonstrated. “It makes it easier and less work to do later.”

Zormna nodded, following her example as best as she could see.

The little sisters talked as they scooted along from plot to plot. Makayla spoke rapidly about how they were going to play princesses later, while Ruth argued about which princess is the best princess. Though Zormna was still not well-versed in the fairy tale stories these girls were so familiar with, she had finally seen a few Disney films with Mindy McLenna and could identify a handful of them. Snow White was her least favorite—though her reason why was not what they suspected.  

“I think Rapunzel was the best,” Ruth said finally “With that frying pan.”

Zormna shook her head. “Hair like that would be impossible to maintain.”

Joy, who had chin-length brown hair, snickered. “Yeah…”

“Well, she brushes it a lot,” Ruth said, her face a little hot.

“A waste of time, if you ask me,” Zormna muttered. “That shorter cut was so much better.”

“Because it is just like yours?” Joy snickered. Zormna maintained her curls at chin-length also, though she had two long strands in front of her ears which she never touched and allowed to grow to her chest.

Ruth blinked up at Zormna, angling her head to examine it. “Yeah, it kinda is. Only yours is curlier.”

Moaning, Zormna pulled out a few more weeds then moved along to the next plot.

“I like Tinkerbell,” Makayla declared.

Zormna merely made a face.

“Well then, what’s your favorite?” Ruth asked Zormna.

Cringing, Zormna shook her head. “I don’t really know them all. Besides, I’m not really into princesses.”

Both Ruth and Makayla stared as if Zormna had said the wrong thing.

But Joy laughed. “Of course, you aren’t. But when you were little, did you have a favorite?”

Zormna shook her head. “No.”

The little girls stared even more, jaws dropped now.

“How about Mulan?” Joy asked, not exactly surprised. “She’s like a warrior.”

“Mulan’s not really a princess though,” Ruth said. “She just puts on guy’s clothes and goes to war and stuff. She doesn’t even marry a prince.”

Rising with exasperation, Zormna protested, “Why does this even matter? What’s the big deal about princesses anyway?”

“What’s the big deal?” Ruth really looked scandalized now. She shared her shock with Makayla who immediately shouted out: “Princesses are beautiful! And they get to wear pretty dresses. And a tiara!”

“They get to marry a prince and live happily ever after,” Ruth cut in.

“And they… and they get to do whatever they want,” Makayla continued.

“They’re special!” Ruth snapped.

Zormna looked to Joy who had not said anything but was smirking while they spoke out. “What about you? What is the big deal?”

Joy shrugged. “It is a thing little girls like. And Ruth’s right. It makes a girl feel special. Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to be a princess when you were little.”

Zormna shook her head in earnest. “Never. I wanted to be a cop.”

Brian broke out laughing. The girls turned and saw him. He had been taking his time checking the spark plugs on the mower and filling the gas. Mostly he had been listening in, as it was always interesting to hear Zormna’s point of view on things ‘girly’. She just wasn’t that kind of girl. He and Joy both knew she had grown up in a military school.

“A cop?” Joy stared. “Are you serious?”

Zormna nodded. “My uncle was a policeman. I really admired him.”

“What did your mother and father do?” Joy asked, curious.

Shrugging, Zormna said, “My father was doctor and my mother was a nurse. That’s how they met.”

“But you don’t want to be a nurse?” Brian asked, halting in his work on the mower.

Looking to him, Zormna shook her head and pulled up another weed, chucking it into the pile next to her. “No… I’m not a fan of blood.”

But Brian laughed at that, leaning on the mower bar. “Not a fan of blood, but you wanted to be a cop?”

Rolling her eyes at him, Zormna replied as she dislodged another weed, “Regardless of what is portrayed in the media, cops—or policemen—were once called peace-men. And for a reason. Their job is the keep the peace. And my uncle worked a dangerous neighborhood. He kept the gangs in line and people safe from them. That’s—honestly—the best kind of profession.”

The Henderson kids around her stared, subdued. Clearly, they never really had thought about it.

“Wow,” Ruth murmured. Then she angled her head back and said, “But are you sure you don’t want to play princesses with us? You can be Rapunzel after her hair got cut. We’ll even give you a frying pan.”

“Zormna doesn’t need a frying pan,” Brian murmured, going back to the mower. “She’s a super-ninja.”

His sisters giggled; Joy admittedly also amused. It was Zormna’s reputation at school. The military girl was infamous for her quick martial arts moves when confronted by jerks. Jennifer McLenna had coined the phrase.

Brian started the mower, pulling the cord twice before it actually roared into life.

Making a face at them as she yanked out another weed, Zormna said, “If you want me to play princesses with you, can I be someone else?”

“You have to be a princess!” Makayla rose, fists full of weeds.

“What does a princess do anyway?” Zormna asked, tossing the weed aside, “Besides looking pretty and getting rescued by princes?”

The sisters swapped looks and thought about it.

“How about we see a movie about that?” Joy suggested finally, dumping off three weeds into the pile.

“You have a movie showing you how to be a princess?” Zormna looked at them skeptically.

All three girls nodded. Devious little grins spread on their faces.

“And we’ll have a tea party!” Ruth announced, rubbing her muddy gloves almost like a mad scientist.

Zormna blinked at her, peeking at Joy who was working a particularly tough weed from the soil. “But I thought your family did not drink tea.”

Joy laughed, twisting the weed at the root. “We don’t. It will be more like cocoa and Kool-Aid.”

“Oh.”

“And cookies!” Makayla declared, clapping her muddy gloves.

As the sisters went back to work, conspiring together while they uprooted plants, Zormna got up to dump her weeds into the wheelbarrow. Hesitating  between, the garden bed and wheel barrow, she gravitated toward Brian who was pushing the mower over the grass. He stopped when she got near.

“Careful,” Brian said over the loud rumble of the mower. “This machine’s dangerous.”

Zormna snorted, thinking of all the more dangerous machines she had handled in her lifetime. But she said, “Can I… have a go?”

He laughed, looking from her and to the mower. “You don’t want to. It’s kind of heavy.”

But walking up to it, grasping the push bar with one hand, Zormna said, “Let me try anyway. If I can’t move it, you can take over again.”

Amused, lifting his hands off the bar, Brian let go and stepped back. “Ok…”

Zormna positioned herself right behind the mower, feeling the vibration of the bar underneath her fingers and in the palms of her hands. And she pushed with control, smiling.

 

“Brian!” Mr. Henderson stopped and stared as Zormna had completed a third pass across the lawn with ease. He marched over to his eldest child, frowning. “That was your job! What did you make her—?”

“She wanted to!” Brian gestured toward Zormna with his own exasperation. “She asked.”

His father stared him down, shaking his head. Then he walked over to Zormna who was making another pass over the grass. “You don’t have to do that. You’re our guest.”

But Zormna looked up at him, dismayed that he was interfering. “No… I asked. This is—”

“Brian’s job,” Mr. Henderson said firmly, taking control of the mower. “And he should not be pawning it off on someone else.”

She sighed and let go of the mower handle, stepping away. But honestly, it was great handling machines again, even one as simple as a lawn mower. Zormna stepped back to the girls who were cleaning up the weeds they had uprooted and were taking to the compost pile via wheel-barrow.

“You really wanted to mow the lawn?” Joy said as she dumped the barrow into the compost heap, gazing skeptically at her.

Looking back at Brian again as he once more went back to mowing, Zormna sighed then nodded. “Yeah. Todd always took over at my great aunt’s place. I never got the chance.”

Chuckling, Joy shook her head. She patted Zormna on the shoulder. “You like the weirdest things.”

Then she waved for Zormna to join her in the house to clean up. Makayla and Ruth would insist they be clean before they had their ‘tea’ party.

It was not uncommon for Jeff Streigle to spontaneously show up at the Hendersons’ home without a moment’s notice. He was always welcome there, they said. Which was why when he arrived sometime around noon, Mr. Henderson smiled and waved, then gestured for him to go inside if he wanted. It is also why Ammon and Moroni got these pale, panicked looks on their face and broke into protests again about their video game.

“No! No! No! Not you! That girl already decimated our top scores last time! And we need you both away from that thing!” But they were laughing.

“Oh!” Jeff looked around to the open front door. “So, Zormna’s here already?”

Mr. Henderson chuckled, nodding. Then he said, with a curious look as Jeff hesitated on the front step contemplating whether he ought to go inside, “I heard you knew her before she moved into town. Is that true?”

Jeff nodded, huffing as he rolled his eyes. “Yep. All true. We met at her military school in Ireland a while back—before I moved here.”

“Ah.” Mr. Henderson did not say more. He just nodded his head, thinking. Jeff liked the man. He was a decent father, and a good person in general. When Mr. Henderson had first met Jeff and seen his scars—the most prominent one across his right cheek and his nose like it had been broken and scraped with a hard punch by someone wearing a ring—the man didn’t judge him. Of course, with Jeff’s family story of physical abuse, Mr. Henderson made sure Jeff knew he always had a safe haven in his home. Jeff wished he didn’t have to lie to that man. But it was par the course when what was really going on was something no one in Pennington would believe.

“I’ll go in quietly.” Jeff smirked.

Ammon slapped his own forehead. “Oh, yeah… They’re watching a ‘princess’ movie. You can’t play video games with it on anyway.”

“So, it’s all right.” Moroni sighed with animated relief.

“Princess movie?” Jeff blinked at them, a look which usually unnerved people. His blue eyes were so dark that some people described them as staring into the depths of space. And he was so pale, some people whispered that he looked like a vampire. After all, his hair was midnight black. Handsome and creepy, all at the same time. 

“Yeah.” Ammon snorted. “Makayla and Ruth have been planning to play princesses with her as soon as they heard she was coming over.”

With a flabbergasted laugh, Jeff turned and walked through the door and into the house.

The Henderson home could be best described as full and comfortable. Every time Jeff entered it, he felt a sense of inclusion. And the house was full of things that had been included in it. Pictures from kids. Crafty things. Books and bookshelves. And spiritual art meant to inspire and uplift. On most days, they left electric lights off and opened the curtains for sunlight. So, he walked through a comfortable shadow, past the stairway to the kitchen where beyond it he could see the dining room then the living room where Zormna was sitting. And, she was sitting on the floor in a rosy pink taffeta gown way too big for her, thrown over her usual clothes. Gobs of heavily-if-not-childishly-applied makeup covered her usually fair face. In her hands, resting between her mildly outstretched legs, was a cast iron skillet. She was holding the handle like she was weighing the balance of it in case there would be a fight. Ruth and Makayla were attacking her hair with all sorts of hair do-hickeys and clips. Jeff covered his mouth to keep in his laughter. He didn’t want her to hear him.

 Joy was sitting next to Zormna, a blue taffeta dress over her clothes, the zipper halfway done in the back—her face equally made up by the little girls. She had three headbands in her hair, one with a huge silk Gerber daisy. And she was explaining the movie to Zormna while the Ruth was showing her little sister how to make ringlets out of Zormna’s wayward curls.

“No! Like this. Around your fingers. Then pull down like this. See?”

Makayla attempted it, but not with great success. Her fingers were a little too small for the job. Still, Zormna almost looked like Shirley temple—on one side.

“But I still don’t get it.” Zormna gestured with exasperation at the TV screen. “What was wrong with her hair before? Curls are natural. And they looked fine.”

Joy shrugged, glancing away. “Well, you know, fashion changes. Besides, that really isn’t the point. The makeover is for her to look more… polished. You know?”

Zormna rolled her eyes. “It still looks like all princess does is wave and look pretty. I still don’t see the appeal.”

Jeff peeked at the movie on the TV. It wasn’t one he had seen before. But then it didn’t look like something he would have gone out to watch anyway. He lived in a house mostly full of men. This clearly was a chick flick.

“Why is this so special? If somebody just wanted to look pretty, a girl could aspire to being one those supermodels or a rock star,” Zormna grumbled.

“It’s more than that. Princess training is really training to be a queen,” Joy said.

“Great,” Zormna grumbled more. “Looking pretty and preparing for her to be eye candy for some guy.”

“That isn’t the point,” Jeff finally interrupted.

All the girls looked up.

Joy’s eyes went wide on him. She immediately rubbed at the blush on her cheeks—though she was going red either way.

But Zormna only shot him a dry look from her clownish face. She said while clutching that frying pan handle a little tighter, “Then what is the point, Mr. I-know-everything?”

Chuckling, Jeff humbly ducked his head. “All that stuff, all that dress-up, is for public relations. A princess, or a queen, has to put on a public face—which means she needs to look flawless for the media who will pick her apart.”

“Yeah!” Joy rose to her feet. “Exactly! That’s what I meant.”

Zormna’s expression turned thoughtful. “Ok… That makes a little more sense. But what is the point of a princess?”

Jeff stared for moment. “That’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Zormna peeked sideway at Joy as if to say, ‘Do you really want to have this discussion in front of them?’

Jeff coughed. “Sorry. Uh, it’s just it doesn’t seem to fit you. You’re more of a warrior.”

Zormna rolled her eyes again and stood up amid the cries of the younger girls in protest. She flipped the pan in her hand, catching the handle. She flipped it again with another easy catch. “Funny.”

Jeff took a step back, lifting his hands. He knew from experience how adept she was in combat due to her military training. She had, after all, been the one who had given him the scar on his face.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked as Makayla pulled for her to sit again.

“I’m always welcome here,” Jeff retorted, would-be-casual.

She gave him a dry look.

The little girls pulled on Zormna’s clothes more forcefully for her to sit down with them. Zormna obeyed, only because they were in mixed company. Her eye was still on Jeff.

Daniel walked in then, wearing a boy-scout uniform and looking tired. “What’s for lunch?”

“Sandwiches.” Joy rose, ducking away from Jeff while trying to discretely tug off the fancy blue dress from over her clothes.

Grunting, Daniel passed them all and went to get the fixings for his own sandwich.

The little girls went back to attacking Zormna’s hair.

“You can make one too,” Joy said to Jeff, smiling while trying not to look embarrassed.

Sighing, Jeff nodded. “Thanks. But, uh, where’s Brian?”

Joy shrugged. “Shower.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jeff nodded, looking around. He tried to ignore how Joy continued to attempt to rub off the bright makeup. Besides, he watched Zormna again. Zormna had returned her attention to the TV, staring at the movie with a different perspective than when it had started—hardly even self-conscious at how ridiculous she looked. But then she never was in regard to her looks. Though she was an uncommon beauty, she was not vain about it.

“Are you going to stay for Family Home Evening?” Joy asked him with hope.

Shaking his head, Jeff smiled at her. “Nah. Honestly, I was just checking in to see if Zormna was ok.”

Joy’s eyes widened with surprise.

He shrugged then leaned in confidentially. “Don’t tell her, but Todd asked for me watch out for her.”

Joy nodded and turned her attention back to the movie on TV.

It was a lie, of course. Jeff was doing it of his own accord. And for good reason. The same reason Zormna was so irritable about what a princess did and didn’t do. It was a secret between them (and a rare number of others whom they trusted with their lives). Because Zormna was no more Irish than he was. It had to do with why the McLenna parents started to hate Zormna. It had to do with who Zormna really was.

And who he was.

The FBI didn’t even know about it.

Jeff turned away and headed back to the stairs where he hoped to bump into Brian. But he found Brian standing in the hallway, covering his mouth to keep from laughing at what his little sisters had done to Zormna’s hair.

Jeff peeked back.

Her curls were now in two bushy pony tails at the sides of her head. And she looked bored.

“And she just lets them…” Brian murmured.

Walking up to him, Jeff nodded, patting him on the shoulder. “No kidding. The only girly thing about her is that she is gentle with kids.”

“That’s a good thing,” Brian said, nodding in earnest.

Jeff laughed, inwardly agreeing.

“What?” Zormna snapped, seeing them.

Laughing more, Jeff said, “You’ve never looked better.”

She rolled her eyes then grabbed the nearest throwable thing, which turned out to be an empty plastic tea cup rather than the pan she was holding. She chucked it at him.

Jeff ducked barely in time, cackling as he escaped.

Brian backed off also. With both of them further into the hallway, Brian asked, “So, what did you stop by for? Are you gonna stay the night like Zormna?”

Shaking his head, Jeff said, “Nah. I think your house could not stand it. Uh… but I heard a rumor from Jennifer that her parents are thinking about putting Zormna in the foster system rather than letting her be an emancipated minor.”

“No way.” Brian paled. He looked back towards Zormna.

The evening at the Henderson home was nothing Zormna had ever experienced. Not that the McLennas didn’t do things together, but there was always so much tension in that house—and the Hendersons were kings at making her feel at home.

Dinner was taco salad. And they let her use her hands if she wanted to. And their so-called Family Night was chaotic-fun mixed with religious stuff that Zormna didn’t quite understand. And afterward, they made their own ice cream.

When she settled on the trundle bed pulled out from under Joy’s bed for sleep, she and Joy remained awake longer—just talking. It was something she had never experienced before either, as at military school the girls really didn’t want to talk to her. There had always been too much jealousy.

When Joy was finally getting drowsy, she whispered, “I overheard that you might be kicked out of McLennas’ house and sent to a foster home. Is that true?”

Zormna blinked out the sleep from her eyes, startled. “Where did you hear this from?”

Joy sighed. “Brian found out about it and told Dad. He was discussing it with him and Mom. Is it true?”

It wasn’t something Zormna wanted Joy to worry about. But she hated lying to her either. So, she said, “Yes. If I get them mad enough. They kind of hate me right now.”

She could hear Joy breathing, thinking on that. Then Joy said, “My family has taken in foster kids on occasion. You could move in with us.”

Zormna rolled over and stared at her. “But you hardly have enough space for your own family.”

“I could share this room with you. It’s plenty of room,” Joy said in earnest. “I’ve done it before.”

Rubbing her forehead, Zormna groaned. “But I wanted to be an emancipated minor.”

Joy chuckled. “That’s not safe. Especially in our world today. You need to be with a family.”

“That’s what the McLennas say,” Zormna muttered, not happy.

Silence filled the room for a moment.

Then Joy said, “Think about it. I’d be happy if you moved in with us.”

“With the FBI spying on your family twenty-four seven?”

“We’ve got nothing to hide.” Joy chuckled at the idea. “Believe me.”

But Zormna thought on that. The McLennas had a mountain of things to hide. And so did she.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Consider camp a test run,” Joy murmured, leaning more towards sleep. She yawned. “We’ll be in the same cabin for a little more than three weeks. If we don’t drive each other nuts at camp, then it will be no problems here.”

Zormna wondered if that were actually true. She wondered what Joy would think if she really knew who and what she was. Because it was driving her crazy. It was one thing to leave her homeworld, another planet, to live on Earth in the US—as that was where she had come from four months ago. But quite another to finally discover that she was a princess whom the people back Home were waiting for to save them like a messiah. And it scared her.

To Camp

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two:

 

“There is no security on this earth. There is only opportunity.”—anon—

 

The morning came early at five o’clock. Joy and Brian were experts at waking early. Their bags were packed, their beds made, and they were eating breakfast downstairs with ample time to stuff in some last-minute things they might need for the duration at camp.

“Don’t forget your scriptures,” their father reminded.

“Got ‘em.” Brian patted his bag which was on the chair next to the one he was sitting in at the table.

“And something to do on Sunday, since you can’t come home for church,” their father added, eating his own meal in preparation for heading off to work himself.

Joy rolled her eyes as she munched on her bowl of homemade muesli and yogurt, and shared a look with Brian who tried not to peek at Zormna, though Zormna found the entire exchange fascinating. “They’re gonna have a church service there.”

“Yeah, I know.” Their father slowly shook his head, thinking on it. “But it’s not quite the same… so, I hope you two packed enough to do.”

“Books,” Brian patted his bag again then finished off his oatmeal, which he preferred to muesli. “Can we go now?”

But their father looked to Joy who was wiping her mouth, as well as nudging a glass of orange juice over to Zormna who had been listening in to their conversation, fascinated.

Joy groaned. “Ugh. I’ve got scrapbooking stuff and stationary, ok?”

“Remember to keep the Sabbath day holy,” their father advised with warmth.

And both of them nodded, a little tired.

As soon as they cleaned up their own dishes and made trips to the bathroom for final wash up and whatnot, they loaded into the car.

Joy sat next to Zormna in the car, giving her an encouraging squeeze of her hand. “We’re off!”

They arrived at Pennington High School around six a.m. where they all unloaded at the curb. The sun was already rising. There were three yellow school busses on the curb already, each loading up bags with kids already claiming seats. As soon as they could, trying not to draw too much attention from their classmates to the heartfelt good-byes and well-wishes of their parents, Joy and Zormna headed to the bus where the head cheerleader, Michelle Clay, was gathering their team.

Michelle was leggy, fashion-conscious sort of girl with rich brown hair—the type of girl who mimicked the young rock stars and held her nose a little higher than was decent. Her makeup was to-precision fashionable. And when she saw Zormna and Joy arrive together, she seemed to sigh with exhaustion and then hook up her performance smile so she would not look like a snob.

“Finally!” Michelle said, trying to sound playful. She wet-fish-slapped Zormna’s shoulder and took an assessing step back from her. “How many hours did it take for you to do your hair?”

Joy peeked at Zormna, chuckling.

“None?” Zormna replied, bemused. “I washed it. I brushed it.”

Michelle just stared, looking to Joy who nodded. Fact was, Zormna was ready to go in ten minutes. She had spent most of the morning waiting in the kitchen while reading a book from off one of their shelves while the others got ready. The parents even let her take the book with her to finish, as long as she promised to bring it back. It was in Zormna’s bag now.

“That’s it?” Stacey Price, a perky short-haired blonde, jumped in. “What about moisturizer? Or acne medicine? I mean, I know you don’t wear makeup.”

Zormna just shrugged. Stacey was Michelle’s little… sidekick was too strong of a word. More like devotee. Michelle looked at Stacey in that kind of annoying-fan sort of way, but Michelle also liked having a fan.

Then Jennifer McCabe ran up, perky and cheerful. “Hey! What’s going on?”

She was Joy’s friend from when they were on the Jr. Varsity cheer team. Different from Jennifer McLenna, Jennifer McCabe was an open sort of girl with brown hair and few pretentions. Zormna liked her, mostly.

Peeking to their drivers who stood outside the busses leaning on the fronts of their vehicles with bored expressions, Zormna drew in a breath and said, “Should we get on?”

Joy nodded, promptly heading to the open bus door.

“We’re sitting in the back!” Michelle announced, warning Joy.

Merely waving, Joy went in. Zormna quickly followed.

They weren’t the only ones climbing onto the buses. They were going to an all-sports camp, which included the football team, the swim team, the cross-country team, and their wrestling team, who were state champs. The tennis team and soft ball team sat with the cheer team on their bus. But the football team had a bus mostly to themselves. And other busses were coming for the other groups.

 It was also camp with both boys and girls—a legal nightmare some parents said. And it included the four high schools of the area. A disaster waiting to happen, other parents said. So, not all the kids on the teams attended the camp. But most of them did. Because Camp Lake Dale was one of the best camps in the region and hardly anyone wanted to miss it.

Joy went straight to the back of the bus. But Zormna peered around at the vinyl benches on the bus, which she noticed had no seatbelts. Choosing a spot in the center for safety reasons, she scooted towards the window and leaned her forehead against the glass. Staring at the happy commotion in the parking lot, anxiety at the unknown finally solidified in her chest. She had been feeling it build up all morning. And though she vocally claimed this was an adventure, Zormna honestly was uneasy about being in an environment so entirely wild as a forest. She drew in a breath and exhaled.

—Then immediately choked on the extreme perfume coming from the girl who sat right behind her. Scowling back at her, Zormna groaned then groped the window catches to shove it open for air.

Out on the walk, in front of the school, Zormna noticed Jeff’s wrestling buddies—Brian among them—loading up on the neighboring bus. Jeff, however, was nowhere to be seen. Technically, he was supposed to be her bodyguard. Not that she wanted one, but he insisted as it was supposedly part of the prophecy which he believed to be about her.

She stuck her head out the window and peered down the road to listen for cars. Except for the ruckus in the parking lot, the road was mostly silent—still early morning. Even the FBI wasn’t there yet. Zormna had seen the agents fast asleep in their sedan across from the Henderson home that morning. Or maybe this time they had finally managed to station themselves where they could not to be seen, though she doubted it.

Soon, as if answering her concern, she detected a distant engine rumble, followed by the screech of tires tearing into the parking lot. She turned her head towards the source of the noise and spotted the rusty brown truck that belonged to Al (Jeff’s so-called brother Alex). It stopped abruptly, his tires marking the asphalt with black streaks.

Jeff opened the passenger side of the truck and let himself out. He was dressed in what he almost always wore: jeans, a red school tee shirt with the words Pennington Pirates Swab Up! in black letters on the front, and his typical black faux leather jacket from Home. Eyes turned when he arrived, but that was natural. If anyone had a worse reputation than her, it was Jeff—or as Zormna knew him, Jafarr. Everybody had believed he had once been in a gang in Chicago somewhere, and that his dad had abused him. He had the scars to prove it, after all. No one except for his ‘family’ knew the real reason for his scars except for Zormna. After all, she had been the cause of two of them—the ones on his face.

He walked to the open back of the truck and lifted his duffle bag out of the pickup. He waved goodbye to the driver. Al nodded to him and steered out of the parking lot, the gears screeching as he departed. Zormna was sure that noise was only for show. Jeff would never let a machine get in that bad shape if not on purpose.

He hurried to his bus, answering the calls of his friends as soon as they shouted out to him. And yet when he reached his bus’s steps, he stopped to peer toward the girls’ bus, glancing from window to window. 

“Al’ za tan,”[1] Zormna called out as if swearing at the sky, giving him a good smirk for measure. 

The girls sitting around her in the bus shot her looks. They rarely ever heard her use of her foreign dialect, and it was usually when she was angry enough to curse. They whispered among themselves.

Jeff, however, stiffened upon recognition and shook his head as he climbed onto his bus. Zormna did not care. She was sick of speaking English anyway, and she pulled back in her head as if to say so. Besides, the FBI car still had not arrived yet.

When departure time came, everyone loaded up onto his or her bus, their coaches and instructors taking their places and counting heads while taking roll to make sure no one got left behind. While they described emergency procedures to the crowds that didn’t care to listen, everyone kept whispering excitedly among themselves.

Their driver, who had been surreptitiously smoking on the other side of the bus, sucked in his last breath of nicotine before dropping the butt onto the ground and snuffed it with his toe. A teacher spotted him, then went after him. The kids on the bus overheard their argument and started laughing. It was a no-smoking zone, after all. But the driver protested for his right to smoke, as it was a free country and blah, blah, blah—never mind that he was making it stinky for everyone else around him. And though the teacher threatened to get him fired, both stomped onto the bus in silence because he needed the job and they needed a driver.

The man took forever to adjust his seat, then his seat belt and mirrors—all which could have been done earlier if he hadn’t been sneaking a drag. Zormna just hoped he had not actually been smoking marijuana. The last thing they needed was someone with slow reflexes driving their seatbelt-less crew up winding mountain roads.

He pulled the handle to the doors, screeching with un-oiled slowness until they clamped shut with a dull klunk. Then the driver turned around in his chair to glare at every one of the students for quiet. No one paid him any attention. Though, his eyes met Zormna’s once. So, he fixed his glare on her as if he could make a difference and intimidate at least one soul on the bus. But that didn’t work either. However, he turned around and faced front as if he had accomplished his goal. He revved up the motor, changing gears. At last, the bus started to chug forward, spewing diesel vapors into the air. Crawling forward, and forward still, poking behind all the other busses, it slowly exited the parking lot.

Finally on their way, Zormna settled back in her seat. A cool breeze blew in from the window onto her face. The reek of perfume wasn’t so strong now, but she still didn’t think of closing the window at all, even when someone complained loudly that she was cold. It wasn’t cold to Zormna. It was so much colder at Home. Besides, the cool wind against her skin reminded her so much of Home that if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was back there, flying solo in the wind on the surface like she used to.

The girl in the seat in front of her slid the window shut, shooting Zormna a glare.

Zormna scowled right back, losing the old joy. But she didn’t fight over it.

As a caravan, the busses traveled through Pennington toward the edge of town then into the forest. This road was part of the old highway, traveling not far from where Jeff currently lived. Unlike the road that led to Star-Watching Hill, this highway had a less steep climb into the mountains. It switched back and forth for about an hour through fleets of pine trees in the sea of green. Zormna found the view pretty but monotonous. As her thoughts drifted, the others inside the bus grew noisier with eruptions of gossip, laughter, and chatter. Then floods of it.

The girls on her bus eventually started to sing songs—songs which Zormna did not know and could not join even if she wanted to. Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall gave way to popular songs like No, and that old 80’s song Don’t Worry, Be Happy (that Joy liked so much), and various versions of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Zormna half-listened, half let her thoughts just wander. In an unexpected way, the singing made her feel homesick. It reminded her of those whom she hung out with back Home. Off shift, they sang songs when they got together at the drinks bar. And though she wasn’t much of a singer, she did like music. She wondered what her former comrades were doing at that moment. Were they happy? Were they safe? Were they thinking about her at all? Were they wondering where she was or what she was doing?

The crowd got louder and louder with every verse of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Zormna leaned her head against the glass and stared out at the passing trees, drawing in a breath. She exhaled it in a sigh without realizing what she was doing.

Joy, who had come up from the back and sat next to her right before the bus had started up, turned from singing her part of the round with a look at Zormna’s cheerless face. Leaning near with a nudge, Joy said, “Zormna, join in.” 

Zormna glanced blandly at her friend then looked out the window again, unable to invoke any enthusiasm.

“Heavens, you can’t be homesick,” Joy said.

Zormna looked up at the ceiling then chuckled mirthlessly at the thought as everyone knew that Zormna was an ‘Irish’ immigrant, who had already gone through a lot adaptation to U.S. culture. If only Joy really knew where she was really from, she’d flip.

“Why not? This is all so strange to me.” Zormna said, not even looking from the window. “Besides, I don’t sing.”

“You don’t sing?” Joy frowned. Whispering into Zormna’s ear, she said, “I’m sorry. But can’t you at least pretend to be excited?”

Zormna managed a painful grimace.

Seeing it, Joy groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Forget it. ‘Fake it until you make it’ clearly doesn’t work for you.”

Zormna looked out the window again.

With a heavy eye-roll, Joy went back into the song. She sang loud enough for the both of them.

But as they traveled higher in the mountain, other girls started to open the windows again. Zormna lifted her head. The strong pine scent and even the crisp odor of the lake nearby came to her nose—two incredibly foreign odors to her olfactory nerves. And as she drew in another breath, she was surprised that she suddenly felt invigorated. Not that Pennington air wasn’t decent, especially compared to the stale manufactured air of Home—but that she had forgotten how rich the air inside the forest had smelled. When she had first arrived in the area, the forest was where the ship had landed. Yet it had been such an overwhelming experience that apparently, she had blocked it out entirely. Now it all came back to her.

Her eyes turned to the glints of light reflecting off the lake. It flickered, mostly seen between the trees as they moved. She drew in a quick breath and stared. It was so amazing.

The busses rolled straight off the highway to a smaller road. They dipped down into the trees towards the lake and drove straight through a large wooden archway labeled in huge carved letters: Camp Lake Dale. The sky above it was a fine blue with light fluffy clouds. Tall pine trees towered over the gravel parking lot they rolled into, the sound of birds in the boughs and cicadas filling the air. Pine cones and pine needles were nearly everywhere. Yet at the farthest end on the right was sloping lawn full of lush grass that dropped straight down into a pebbly beach edging a sparkling blue lake rimmed with trees.

Their bus pulled alongside the other yellow school busses already parked in the lot. The first bus was already unloading. Once they parked, everyone eagerly got out of their seats to climb out. It looked as if a fleet of these busses were being spawned up in the mountains—only some of the busses were different colors and shapes than just their yellow school type.

Neat and washed charter busses stood in another end of the gravel parking lot, unloading teenagers from Harvest High. These were painted a gradual blue with the name of the charter company on the side. Most of the Pennington students whispered to one another that these busses were probably air conditioned with two toilets and television sets. The other hired busses parked in the lot were from Billsburg High and their hated rival, Monroe High. Athletes from these schools gathered in lines outside their busses. The camp counselors were already handing out their information packets and directing the students to the enormous split-log lodge across the lot. 

The Pennington busses unloaded, allowing the wrestling and boys’ track teams climb out first to stretch their legs. One by one, the boys hopped down the steps onto the gravel to get their things from the side compartment. Jeff climbed off the bus with his friends right behind. He was still laughing at a remark his friend Jonathan Baker had just made about the fresh air, when his feet hit the gravel. Yet his eyes lifted onto Monroe High school bus a few yards from theirs and he stiffened. Automatically he took a step in retreat.

Climbing off next, Brian pushed him forward with a laugh. “Make room, Jeff.”

Still chuckling, Jonathan fell on top of Brian as he came out of the bus next. “Hey! You’re causing a traffic jam!”

“Well, if it isn’t the Pennington dipsticks.” A mocking voice floated across the gravel from one of the Monroe busses.

All three boys lifted their eyes. They set upon what Jeff had noticed the moment he had stepped outside—the Monroe wrestling team.

They were boys about as thick and tall as those of Pennington, though they wore colors of Orange and Blue and had the Monroe Mountain Lion on their chests.

Jeff stepped to the side, silently glaring at their rivals.

Their fourth to their group, Mark Wheley, hopped off the bus, skipping the last step to land coolly onto the ground. He gave their Monroe heckler a smirk and folded his arms. “Well, Damon. It seems you haven’t changed. You’re the same lint ball as ever.” 

He nudged Jonathan who smothered a laugh.

“Oh, real clever, cheese-head,” replied Damon Pikes, a thick-necked, broad-chested boy of about seventeen years. He was decently healthy for a boy his age, with sharp blue eyes and brownish hair. But he really only had eyes for Jeff, whom he stared at with a twisted smile. “Well, Jeffey boy, it seems you might be a man after all. I didn’t think you would come. I was sure you were too chicken to face me.”

Jeff rolled his dark eyes in response. “Nice to see you too, schmuck.”

Zormna had witnessed all of this as she climbed out of her bus directly after Joy. Jeff had previously mentioned to her that coming to camp would prove problematic for him, though he had not exactly gone into detail. She had heard from others about the Monroe-Pennington rivalry. But to be honest, she had forgotten the details because she has thought Jeff was being incredibly juvenile at the time and was just making excuses. 

Joy walked straight over to her brother, her mouth opening perhaps to tell him their parents would not like them getting into fights. But Brian did not look like the one that would be fighting. Jeff had balled his hands into fists as Damon glowered with the inclination to pounce on him.

Squinting cockeyed at both boys before following Joy to find out exactly what was going on, Zormna stared.

“Kill him, Damon!” yelled a Monroe girl.

Several girls from the Pennington cheer team shouted back for that girl to shut up (with a few colorful remarks added)—though Joy had hooked her hand into her brother’s arm, hissing into his ear something. Brian made a face but nodded to her.

Zormna whispered into Joy’s ear, “What’s going on?”

Joy turned back without taking her eyes off the rivalry and said, “Oh, it happened last year when Jeff first transferred over and joined the team. Damon used to be the state champ, but Jeff took his title. So, he’s, like, really peeved at Jeff and the whole Pennington team. They tried to jump Jeff at one of the meets. It has been just awful. Monroe High kids suck.”

That the worst thing Joy had ever said about anybody. The girls around her were saying much worse, using words Zormna had never learned because they were too crass.

Fact of the matter, this sort of school rivalry was not something that occurred where she was from. Schools back Home were educational establishments, period—not competing entities in any shape or form. The only rivalry she was familiar with was on the individual level. Even between different districts in the Surface Patrol, they did not allow any sort of snobbery as they were supposed to work as a unit. This was an entirely different culture.

Watching it, trying to comprehend it, Zormna soon came to three conclusions: all of this was purely childish; it was a waste of her time; and Jeff was more than capable of handling this blustering, posturing, teen-aged jock. Honestly, after viewing him, she saw Damon do nothing more than crack his knuckles and stare menacingly. As for Jeff, she could tell he was merely teasing his opponent. With a snort, Zormna turned to collect her things.

Jeff glanced back. His eyes met hers. The icy coldness of his unfathomable blue-eyed gaze hardened as if he were passing a thought to her.

She halted where she was, setting a hand on her hip with the faintest shake of her head that replied that he was acting childish. Her own deep green eyes pierced him. And that thought fluttered through the pair of them, almost shared, though she didn’t know how.

Of course he knew this childish high school rivalry was all nonsense. Besides—he regarded her as his only real rival. She returned the sentiment with a faint smirk.

Damon followed Jeff’s gaze. His eyes set on Zormna.

The boy stepped from his friends, going towards the Pennington bus as if gravity drew him in to her. His friends went after him.

“Hey! You aren’t serious?” Joe Sergeant, another top Monroe wrestler shouted after him.

“Yeah! Not here!” Aaron Wilson joined in, even reached out to pull Damon back.

But Damon shook them off. “I’m not.” He then shot Jeff a smirk as if he didn’t care at all that Jeff was there. “I just noticed a newbie. I figured I knew every gal on the Pennington cheer team.”

“New year, new team,” Michelle Clay declared, stepping up to block him if she could.

But Damon Pikes walked past Michelle straight towards Zormna. He was a least a foot taller than her and marched up like King Kong on the prowl. Zormna took one step back with a glance to Jeff as if she might actually need his help with this one. Jeff even appeared surprised, if only for a second. In fact, there was a flicker in Jeff’s eyes that almost asked Zormna to clobber Damon if she wanted to.

 The Pennington cheer team stepped aside only to encircle them, in case Damon dared lay a finger on their teammate. Damon halted in front of Zormna, a smile of macho bravado spreading across his thick jaw. “I don’t think we’ve met.”  

“No.” Zormna squared her shoulders, gazing curiously up at this thickset figure. “We haven’t met.”

“I’m Damon,” he said and took a step closer. His smile expanded while his eyes stroked her face then caressed her tiny but mature figure.

Jeff cleared his throat with a cough. “Uh, Damon. I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

Glancing at Jeff, Damon took another step closer towards Zormna.

But Zormna leaned away from him, making a face which Joy snickered at, her hand covering her mouth.

Enjoying Zormna’s automatic revulsion, Brian smirked. He knew Zormna hated it when boys hit on her. And he also knew what might happen next.

“What? Is she your girlfriend?” Damon asked Jeff in

Imprint

Publisher: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Publication Date: 04-01-2017
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7917-8

All Rights Reserved