Stone of Hope

Chapter 2

Icontemplate whether I’ll be able to find a tarnished handle to replace the downstairs lab’s handle if I melt it off; one good enough to fool Dad, since there’s not a single tool in the house that can pick the lock. I’ve already snooped everywhere in the house, but still haven’t found anything that helps me unravel the truth.

I’ve never been able to create fire out of nothing; rather, I control the temperature and flow of an already burning flame. Clutching the torch so tightly I feel the thrumming of my heart through my fingers, heat surges over my skin and warmth ignites my body, the closest thing to a runner’s high I can get without my tennis shoes. I squeeze the handle of the striker, creating a spark. Focusing on the energy within, I send it to my hand, which sends a burst of heat through my arm holding the torch, which is just for show in case anyone happens to stroll by. A small flame floats in the air. Just as quickly, I reel back the energy and let the flame vanish.

Dad likes to keep up appearances, so he got me an auto-dimming helmet, even though the flame doesn’t affect my eyes. A wide grin spreads across my face as my gaze sweeps over the shop. For some reason, the smell of grease and rusted metal is a balm to my senses. It always amazes me how much time and effort my dad has expended to build this refuge for me.

He had several automatic hoists built in, knowing I’d be working alone to use my gift. Even the heaviest pieces can be secured in chains and placed so I can use my gift to weld it. He also built in an air suspension harness so I can be up high and control my body. I know it must have cost a fortune to build, but I never asked where we got the money. Now, I wonder.

Strapped in the harness, I look more like an acrobat in the circus rather than a welder. If Ash had his way, I’d be in a tight black outfit looking like a secret agent. The thought of Ash makes me tear up, and I resolutely push away any and all thoughts of his departure and try to focus on the task at hand.

I push my arms through my flame-retardant leather jacket and slide into leather pants, then head over to the table that holds my helmet. Every year for my birthday, my dad presents me with some type of antique gadget from the welding industry. Over the years, I’ve amassed an impressive collection of antique welding helmets and tools, which are all hanging on the wall.

Walking to my latest work-in-progress, I look over what’s been completed so far. Once again, I applaud my good fortune in finding the circular piece. It fits perfectly; it lays flat, with the newly attached legs I welded last night. I laid out all the pieces and estimated the number of rods I’d need the night before. Coming to kneel where the first foot will be, I place the rod where it needs to go, flip down the helmet lid, and use the striker to start a spark, which then lights the gas. The flames sing to my soul as my body sizzles with heat and energy. Warmth spreads down to my hand as I make the flame as hot as it needs to go. I fall into an easy rhythm: grab a new rod, use the flame, weld. I concentrate on the fire to keep the flame hot and moving in the direction I need it to go, moving my hand in circles counterclockwise as I weld the pieces together.

My energy to control the fire dies down, and I can feel the heat within my body dampening with it. One last rod and I’ll be done with the feet. Lifting my helmet, sunset’s orange hues on the shiny beak of the crane signal that it’s time to clean up. Stretching my neck to either side to work out the cricks, I pull off my helmet and leathers. Finally, I flip the lights off and step outside, breathing in fresh air. I take a moment to admire all my sculptures, visually meandering around the collection until I find the spot I plan to place my crane, nestled between the waves. I can’t wait to see how the light reflects on it throughout the day.

Suddenly feeling grimy, I realize I stink of sweat and old car mechanic. Taking a shower eases some of the tension radiating from my shoulders, but I still feel my heart crashing in my chest. I kneel and trace the vine swirl pattern on the cuff bracelet around my ankle that Ash made for me, wondering if I should take it off. It fit Ash’s broad wrist, so when he gave it to me, the only place it would fit was my ankle. Admiring the intricate, carved design in the leather cuff, I still can’t believe he’s this talented.

He gave it to me for my first birthday we celebrated while dating. It’s been five days since our fight, and it feels like we’re in a very different place than we were back then. It’s not like it was our first fight, but this one felt more definitive, like it might be our last. Tears spill down the drain as I try to remind myself Ash always comes back, whether it takes one week or several.

Open. Close. Open. Close. There is nothing in the fridge to eat. The corsage my father ordered a month ago as a surprise was delivered an hour ago. I put it in the fridge but now it’s toying with my head. To go or not to go is the question? Of course, I didn’t ask anyone else to go with me, secretly (stupidly) hoping Ash would come back in time. I open the refrigerator door once more, grab the corsage, and march to the trash can, chucking it and grabbing my grocery list and wallet as I make my way to my car. Prom is overrated, anyway. I should have spent more time making friends in high school instead of spending all my time with Ash.

You know what? Who needs to get dressed up in an uncomfortable dress anyway?

I push the ignition button, turn up the radio, and begin to drive, hearing the pleasant chime of the low gas warning. I pull into Dennis’s Station, a gas station with a mini mart attached. I grab a shopping cart and walk down the center aisle, idly looking at the shelves, and stop short. At the end of the aisle, peeking out from around the end cap, is a mop of familiar blond, wavy hair.

I can’t breathe. He’s back and he didn’t even call me?! Oh, hell no! The wheels of the cart wobble as I pick up speed, heading straight toward him. He is coming more into view. I see him grab someone by the shirt – not just someone, but Scrappy Dan, Jessica’s dad, where I got the piece of scrap metal. As if he hears me, Ash looks up through his lashes, spots me, and hightails it out the back door of the mini mart. Letting go of the cart, I dash after him, flying past a pale-faced Dan.

“Ash!” My voice comes out raspy, but in the quiet evening, it still carries. He rounds the dumpster and enters the woods. I follow, picking up my pace, but quickly lose sight of him. “Ash!”

I run until my legs and lungs are on fire, but even though I push as hard as I can, Ash has vanished without a trace. Did I go the wrong way? I jump over a fallen log and redouble my efforts, hoping he hasn’t gotten far, and turn onto yet another small trail.

Why is he running from me? Why is he even here? Why wouldn’t he contact me if he came home early? It is Prom night, after all.

You know what? He better run.

“Ash!” I come to a shaky stop, waiting to hear a reply. “Ash!” I scream. Complete silence. I take one last breath and go onto another small trail, promising myself this is the last one.

Suddenly, my body lights up with electric heat and I feel a familiar pull in my chest. The shadows start to swallow me up the further I get into the woods. The heebie-jeebies crawl over my skin. I slow my pace, no longer sure if I should continue or head back. Just a little bit longer. It’s just trees, I urge myself. Giving in to the surreal feeling, the strange pull tugs at me harder.

“Ash?” I call out. My skin prickles and my hair stands on end.

I take one more step and wind rushes through my ears. Black spots hang in the air and I notice the overgrown path is no longer there. It’s humid, the air so thick I could cut it with a knife, and bright midday sun replaces the night I just left. Then I smell him; tantalizing swirls of cinnamon and honey. Rays of sunshine peek through the overwhelming sea of different shades of green, the brightest of all being the canopy of leaves. The rustling leaves stir up hidden reflective winged insects. Their wings flutter, catching the rays of light and throwing the reflection around like a disco ball. My mouth hangs open and my bewildered eyes don’t know which one to follow.

Tipping my head up, my toe catches on something and I brace myself for the impact of the hard ground, but soft, plush grass meets my hands instead. I open my eyes and see what looks like a shiny piece of glass. I squint, holding the little orb close. With a start, I realize it’s not glass, but a polished emerald. I sit up quickly, and that’s when I notice them all glittering in the sun…thousands of gems, in every color of the rainbow. Millions of dollars’ worth.

A twig snaps behind me and my already racing heart catapults in my chest. Whipping my head around, I see Ash’s wavy blond hair several feet away, looking off in the opposite direction of me.

“Ash, what the hell is going on?” I charge. His shoulders tense as he turns to me, and I see his face is pale. “You haven’t talked to me in a week, you’ve been gone this whole time, and then suddenly I see you at the Mini Mart on Prom night, and when you see me you just take off without a word? What the hell?” Fully wound up now, I cross my arms, feet firmly planted on the ground as I wait for an explanation, but the only response I hear is silence. “You know what? I don’t even care anymore.” My heart pounds with each ragged breath. I bend down, unclip the cuff bracelet from my ankle, and throw it in his direction. “You can have that back.” I wait for something, anything. Then I see it, the same primal look that painted his face by the woods at Scrappy Dan’s house, when we picked up the welding piece and Dan and Jessica weren’t home. Ash stalks toward me, picking up his cuff from the ground and clasping it around his wrist.

Drawing back, my scalp prickles with apprehension and…fear?

“How did you get across?” he whispers urgently, gripping my arm hard and backing me up against a tree trunk.

Indignant, I straighten my back and jerk away from the grasp of his meaty hands. What right does he have to be angry with me? He’s the one being a douche bag! “Don’t touch me like that again,” I snarl. “I followed you into the woods.”

He grabs my hand, asserting, “It’s not safe here,” and practically drags me away.

“You’re scaring me, Ash!” I dig my heels into the ground, intent on demanding answers to my questions, but he never misses a step as he flips me onto his shoulder and carries me instead. It all happens so impossibly fast, I feel the wind escape me as I’m suddenly seeing the world upside down, his shoulder pressing painfully into my stomach. I pound my fists on his back, but he doesn’t budge. Bewildered, I push on his back and straighten my arms as I try to see my surroundings. An outer glow begins to form as we pass an earthen wall of flowering bushes.

Feeling his arm around the back of my legs loosen, I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say by the way he takes in a breath and pauses. Deciding to beat him to it, I jump in. “What the hell is going on?”

The sigh coming from him reminds me of my Ash, the one who loved me. The one I thought was my best friend.

I wait for him to respond, but he remains silent. “Really? That’s all you’re going to give me?” I wiggle in earnest, trying to get him to put me down. I want to see his face for this conversation so I can see the lies I’ve been missing behind his eyes.

Hiking me up further onto his shoulder, he begins, “Look, Jewel?—”

When I start hitting his back again, he suddenly stops walking and unceremoniously plants me on my feet. Grasping both sides of my face with his hands, his mouth twists and he looks into my eyes intently. Without meaning to, my traitorous body responds and leans closer to him.

“I need to know how you got across the portal into this realm,” he demands in a low, dangerous voice.

I immediately lean back and gape at him stupidly. “What are you talking about? What realm? All I know is that I saw you in the Mini Mart about to start a fight with Jessica’s father Dan, and then you saw me and took off running like I wasn’t even there!” I exclaim. “I followed you into the woods so I could get an answer about why you ditched me for Prom.”

Extending his hand, he reaches for my mother’s necklace and tucks it back underneath the neckline of my shirt. “Jewel, you shouldn’t be here. I thought your dad would be the one to explain things…” His voice trails off, looking anywhere but me.

“What things? What are you talking about?” The words come out quickly, my heart rate audible to my ears as it drops into my stomach.

He pulls my hand close to his heart, but I recoil. His shoulders fall in defeat. “I really wish your dad was here.” He pauses and tries to find the right words. “Jewel, your dad is different, and so am I.”

“What do you mean by different?” I squeak. I don’t know why, but I pray my dad is different like me. I’m not a freak, but I know I’m not normal, either.

Ash takes a deep breath and admits in a rush, “We’re not from Earth, and we aren’t human. We’re trolls.” He refuses to make eye contact; instead, he seems to find interesting things on the ground for a few ponderous minutes.

My breath becomes labored and I start to pant, the early stages of a panic attack beginning to rear its ugly head. I close my eyes and try to concentrate on slowing down my breathing. It’s possible. I mean, I can weld fire with my body. So what if there are trolls and different realms?

He places both his hands on my shoulders to steady me and cautions, “Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.” He rubs my shoulders, looking very concerned. “Do you feel ill?” He checks my forehead for a temperature, then moves to check the pulse at my neck. “Jewel, you have to tell me if you aren’t feeling well. Humans don’t do well here.”