Chapter 5 Join us

Leona‘s Pov I didn’t think I’d get lost when I said goodbye to Lulu, so by the time I finally stepped onto Aunt Elysia’s porch, the world was already one breath away from complete darkness. The house was unlit. Only a single candle on the table flickered weakly, throwing a faint gold halo that barely pushed back the shadows. I stepped inside. It was darker than I expected—heavy, unmoving. Aunt Elysia’s silhouette stretched long across the living room wall, bending into strange, impossible shapes. “Uh… Aunt Elysia?” My voice came out tiny. Almost swallowed whole by the dark. No response. The silence pressed against my ribs, stealing a bit of air each second. My hand moved toward the light switch on instinct— —but a pale hand appeared out of nowhere and stopped me. A cold spike shot down my spine. Aunt Elysia stood directly behind me. “Darkness reminds you time is passing,” she murmured. “Does it not?” I swallowed hard and turned around, unable to meet her eyes for more than a second. First day home, and I’d already broken one of her rules. “I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, lowering my gaze. “I went out with some classmates and… lost track of time. I’m fifteen minutes late.” She glanced at me—just one quick look, unreadable—then pointed toward the kitchen. “Go eat.” Relief burst from my chest in a shaky exhale. I hurried toward the kitchen. Warm scents of baked cheese and tomatoes drifted through the air. On the counter sat a lasagna wrapped in foil, steam curling up from the edges. My stomach growled loud enough to echo. I sat down and, for the first time, really looked around the room… and at her. Unexpectedly, guilt crept up on me. I’d treated Aunt Elysia as nothing more than a provider—someone who fed me and gave me a roof. But sitting here, with a warm meal waiting, the quiet of the house wrapping around me like a blanket… I realized she’d given me more than I ever bothered to acknowledge. “How was school today?” Her voice floated from across the table, calm and even. I hesitated. My mind drifted to the beach, to Lulu’s laugh, the way she’d pulled me out of humiliation without hesitation… and then to the twins—the strange pull they ignited in me, the pressure that came with it. It was a full day. “It was… good,” I said slowly. “I met a girl named Lulu. She’s really nice. We hung out after school.” I skipped the shoving, the whispers, the humiliation. I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of inherited trouble. She didn’t seem to care much about the details, but she listened intently—truly—as if every word I said was worth listening to. This feeling…was unexpectedly good. “What about the twins?” she asked casually. “Ariel and Atwood. Do you like them?” I froze. Anything related to the twins made my mind go completely blank. “No…no.” “I…I don’t like that,” I blurted out, too fast for words, as if speed could erase all my feelings. The corners of her mouth curled up slightly—somewhere between amusement and understanding—but she didn’t press further. She just watched me eat, as if my eating was a very important thing. The moment my plate was empty, exhaustion washed over me. Tension, adrenaline, and a desperate, suppressed struggle—all of it coalesced in my bones. I shook my head at myself. Not now. Not now. I couldn't just collapse at the table. I stood up and picked up the plate. "I can wash the dishes." "You're exhausted," she replied, getting up and walking to my side, gently taking the plate from my hands. She bent down—I instinctively closed my eyes, expecting a goodnight kiss on the forehead— but she didn't. She simply placed the plate in the sink. My cheeks flushed instantly. I cleared my throat, trying to hide my embarrassment. Then, I noticed the trash can. Inside was a small, unlabeled vial—some kind of syringe, with some white powder clinging to the tip. This stuff clearly shouldn't be in the kitchen. And the white powder reminded me of some unpleasant memories. I squinted, trying to make out what it was, when Aunt Elizabeth deftly moved between me and the trash can, blocking my view, as if she had anticipated where my gaze would fall. “Go to sleep,” she said, pushing me upstairs. The moment my body touched the bed, we seemed to become one. I felt an unprecedented exhaustion, which was perhaps a good thing, meaning I could finally get a good night's sleep. ****** The next morning, the moment I stepped into the school corridor, I knew something was wrong. Whispers came from behind the lockers. Everyone turned to look—sharp, curious, and greedy eyes turned towards me. My stomach churned. Then I remembered. Yesterday's sprint. Atwood was the first to find me. He jogged over, a bright smile on his face, as if it were innate. “Leona,” he grinned. “We’re going to practice later. Want to join the hockey team?” His breath, his voice, his smile, his invitation—like needles, pierced my very core, pinning me to the spot. My lips parted slightly, but my mind went blank; I forgot every word I could remember. A surge of heat rushed up my neck, spreading to my cheeks, and I let out a soft whimper. Everyone around us stopped and stared. I didn’t want to embarrass myself again—not today. Atwood smiled nonchalantly, seemingly used to girls blushing and their hearts racing because of his words. But if it weren’t for this strange, inexplicable reaction in my body, I would never have glanced at him to bolster his confidence. But before he could continue, Ariel appeared beside him, her voice low and calm. “She’s not ready yet,” he said, then turned to me. “Good morning. Although Atwood was a bit impulsive, I do hope you'll join us, but wait until you've thought it through.” I managed a weak “Thank you,” and practically ran off. But images of the hockey practice rink flashed through my mind: the icy blue ice, the exhilarating freedom of running, the power and speed… just thinking about it made my blood boil. But before I understood some of the changes within myself, I shouldn't act rashly. Relax, Leona. “Hey, you.” Her perfume preceded her voice, cloyingly sweet like popcorn. “Enjoying the attention?” I looked up. The girl standing there was impossible to ignore. Her long, bronze hair cascaded naturally over her shoulders, and her bright red lipstick stood out starkly in the dimly lit corridor. She braced one arm against a locker next to my head, trapping me inside. “Listen carefully,” she whispered, her tone firm. “Stay away from Atwood.” I frowned in confusion. “What did you say?” A dead smile played on her lips. “Don’t play dumb. Everyone knows you talked to him this morning. Look at your eyes, look at how you blush.” Her gaze swept across my face, then quickly lifted, filled with disdain. “I, Lila, am his girlfriend. His real girlfriend.” Oh, I see. A ridiculous, childish contest. I hadn’t even agreed to participate. “I’m not interested in Atwood,” I said frankly. “I’d appreciate it if you could move aside.” Her smile widened, a hint of displeasure flashing in her eyes. “It doesn’t seem that way.” I tried to walk past her. She immediately shifted, blocking my way again, and shoved me back against the locker with her shoulder. Instinctively, I raised my hands, palms against her arm, trying to push her away, but an unexpected, sharp pain shot through me. My palms felt like they’d been burned. I gasped, instinctively pulling my hand back. My palm was a bloody mess, the blood obscuring the lines of my hand. The white flesh was riddled with tiny holes, like miniature volcanoes gushing fine blood. I couldn't quite pinpoint what had caused the injury. "What—" I frowned at her. "What did you do?" Lila glanced down, a glint of near-victory in her eyes. She murmured, her voice barely audible: "So you really are..." What? I strained to hear, but she didn't continue, because the absent male protagonist had arrived. "Atwood!" Lila staggered backward, her body swaying, a soft sob escaping her lips as she collapsed to the ground. "I...I didn't mean to," she choked out, tears welling in her eyes. "I just wanted to talk to her, she pushed me—she hurt me!" "I didn't," I instinctively hid my hand, looking at Atwood and Lila, who was sobbing softly around his neck. “I knew you'd be a clever con artist.” With that, she suddenly lunged at me, grabbing my wrist and exposing my injured hand to the air. “Look!” she cried. “She attacked me and burned herself!” Atwood’s gaze fell on my hand, a cold glint in his eyes. “Enough.” His voice was calm, completely different from his usual tone. Lila froze, seemingly unprepared for this turn of events. Atwood approached me, gently pulling my hand away from hers. His fingers circled my wrist, and the burning sensation in my palm seemed to vanish the instant he touched me. “Burns?” he said coldly. She froze. “I… I used silver powder, but, Atwood, you saw it, she’s not normal. Her hand…” “I said enough.” His voice rose, echoing down the corridor. Several students who had been peeking quickly averted their gazes. Lila jumped in surprise at his sudden high-pitched voice. The next second, hands on her hips, eyes red, she pointed at me. "Atwood, you have to choose today—me or this freak! We agreed I'd borrow my dad's yacht this holiday..." Atwood looked at her and smiled helplessly. Lila's eyes immediately lit up with excitement, and she ran towards Atwood, but froze on the spot, tears streaming from her beautiful eyes. "Congratulations, you've officially joined my ex-girlfriend alliance." Her face paled instantly. "Oh, one more thing," he added, wrinkling his nose slightly. "Your deodorant doesn't seem to be working. Maybe you should try a different brand." I could feel that Lila, who had been as proud as a peacock fifteen minutes ago, had now turned into a plaster statue, but Atwood seemed completely unconcerned about their past relationship. Silence. 1, 2, 3 Lila's hysterical scream rang out. Atwood turned to look at me. "Women can be noisy sometimes, can't they?" He even winked playfully. "Why…" He interrupted me, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You didn't do anything wrong." Then, he leaned closer, his expression serious, and lowered his voice. "But if you don't want this to continue," he said, "your best option right now is to join my hockey team." I blinked. "What?" "I can't guarantee I'll always be there in time to perfectly rescue you," he continued casually. "And believe me—people like her don't play by the rules." He gently squeezed my hand. "So, stick with me. Let them know you're not alone."