Ray of Light (The Incandescent Series Book 1) Page 30

  As I hand the employer my folder with shaking hands, I already know what the first question will be once they skim my details.

  ‘Twenty-two? You look young for your age!’

  I wonder how hard it would be to alter a birth certificate?

  ‘Oh yes,’ I laugh.

  I should add; ‘but I'm technically eighteen.’ That may only get me admitted into a place less desirable though, like a nut-house.

  ‘What sort of qualifications?’ She asks next.

  ‘Oh just, you know. The regular stuff. Harsh terrain trekking, negotiation skills, foreign orb handling…’

  She thinks I'm joking.

  ‘Tell me why you think you'd be great for a position as an assistant to our editor-in-chief?’

  I look at the bold black letters above her head, Northern Beach Local Gazette.

  ‘I'll be honest. Two months ago, I nearly died. I was struck by… a… a few shards of sorts and it cut an artery in my leg. I tried to hold on as long as I could but I was trapped… and the person I was with had passed… passed out. I should have felt utterly and completely alone but… I didn't. I found peace in that moment, that I had so many fulfilling memories to give me comfort in a time when I knew I was going to… to die. I let go, not of hope but of fear. It sounds ridiculous, because here I am stuttering, nervous as hell—sorry.’

  She looks at me eagerly, as if waiting for more.

  Should I tell her more? I could tell her about an orb the size of a caravan that has the power to destroy a whole building, and did. I could tell her about being stuck inside a time vault for five years, when it was only five minutes for me. I could tell her that I neutralised thousands of powerful orbs that had the ability to put the whole world on its knees.

  ‘That's it,’ I say with a shrug. ‘I travelled and explored; I discovered things you wouldn't believe. I loved and I lost, and I made the kind of friends I didn’t think was even possible. I've not known what to do with myself since then, it’s like an empty space in my stomach that keeps growing and waiting for something huge to fill it with. I saw the ad for this position in your magazine. I guess, it might help shrink that hole, even a little.’

  She frowns. ‘You're not one of those rich kids who have had everything served to them on a silver platter, are you? Where, boohoo they've figured out the world isn't here to serve them, that it might owe them something—god forbid that they have to work hard to earn a living and make a life.’

  ‘No.’ My reply is simple.

  Maybe I'm sabotaging this interview on purpose, just like the last eight this month. I do want more for my life, is that so bad? To once have something so great as my responsibility, and to then return to being normal is a soul-crushing side effect I hadn’t expected.

  I stand up and walk, only to stop at the door when she calls my name.

  ‘Wait!’ She says, ‘You intrigue me. You're hired, start in seven days.’

  ~~~

  I sit on my bed to tear my heels off, I rub my pinched feet with one hand and dig my phone out of my handbag with the other.

  As I switch it off silent mode, I notice three missed calls light up my phone screen. All from Miles. I redial as quick as I can.

  ‘Hi you.’ His voice makes my cheeks burn. ‘What have you been doing? I tried to call you earlier?’

  ‘Oh, you know, just scoring myself a job!’ I say nonchalantly, dragging my laptop off my bedside table onto the bed with me.

  ‘What? Really? You didn't screw up this interview?’

  ‘She liked me.’ I laugh as I turn my laptop on. ‘I don't know why!’

  ‘I know why!’

  I cover my mouth to hide my smile. Even though he can't see me, I'm still embarrassed.

  ‘How’s the orb going?’

  I wince at the question.

  ‘Nora?’

  ‘Uh, it’s not,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry it’s safe, just a little neglected.’

  ‘Right. Well, are you working this coming Monday?’ He asks.

  ‘I start next Friday, why?’

  ‘I'm coming to the Northern Beach for some research.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No.’ I can imagine his grin. ‘I just want to see you!’

  ‘I should be able to arrange something, I’ll see you on Monday, Miles.’ I try to sound casual but I squeak the last six words.

  ‘See you then, Sparkles.’

  ‘Yep, I’ll see you then.’

  Miles laughs and hangs up. I cover my mouth again, worried my mouth might stretch all the way to my ears. As I open my email inbox, there’s a single unread email from Xander with the subject header: WE NEED TO TALK!

  My heart burns as I read the words.

  Dad pops his head in; ‘Want a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ I beam at his safe and familiar face.

  I close my laptop, then open it back up, then close it again. I jump off the bed and head for my door. God, I hate this feeling. I turn around, open my laptop again and click on the email from Xander.

  Hey Nora, I know you’re trying to get on with your life, but I want to talk to you about something, in person. Please visit tomorrow, nine o’clock.

  I want to see Xander, I really do, it’s just going to be weird. Even though I technically chose Miles over him, I still miss Xander.

  Hi there, I have to go shopping for some work clothes (YES! I scored a job) in the morning but can I swing by later? Let me know. It will be nice to see you.

  I delete my usual kiss sign off and head downstairs.

  I join Dad and Sarah in the lounge room where they are sitting and sipping on tea.

  ‘They hired me. Can you believe it?’ I say, slumping into the spot beside Dad.

  ‘I’m so proud of you, with everything you’ve been through,’ Dad says, patting my shoulder.

  My eyes wander to the living room wall, once painted dark blue now bright white. It was Sarah’s idea, apparently; to replace the old memories with new ones. I like it. A magnificent image of them on their wedding day is next to a photo of me at my high school graduation. They are both gold framed and make me happy. Sarah is exquisite, her hair is dark grey and cut short to frame her features, bright eyes, high cheekbones, and a long pointy nose.

  ‘The white really brightens up the room,’ I say.

  ‘We can paint your room too?’ When she smiles a snag tooth pops out beneath her lip.

  I decline.

  ‘Do you have any plans for the weekend? As much as I’ve loved spending so much time with you, you must want to hang out with people your own age?’ Dad passes me a painted mug full of green tea.

  ‘And what’s my age again, eighteen or twenty-two?’ I tease.

  ‘Well, actually,’ Sarah speaks over her steaming mug. ‘There’s a photographic exhibition at the community centre tomorrow, I thought you might be interested in. Landscapes. We could go, just the two of us?’

  ‘That sounds lovely, I was going to go shopping for some new work clothes but maybe we can swing by the exhibition after?’ Then I remember. ‘Oh wait… I actually think I am going to hang out with someone my own age tomorrow.’

  ‘Your own age? Eighteen or twenty-two?’ Dad teases back.

  ‘Both actually. It’s Xander. He was the Captain of Team Alpha I was in the Corridor with, he sounds upset.’

  ‘Oh yes, okay, no sure, that’s fine.’ Sarah brushes off the rejection and sips her tea. I don’t quite believe her.

  ‘You know what, I can see him any time, let’s go!’ I say.

  ‘Eleanora,’ Dad scolds me. ‘Your friend might need you.’

  ‘I’m not a child anymore Dad, guilt trips will not work on me. And please, don’t call me that name.’

  Dad puts his hand up in defence. I smile and shake my head.

  ‘I’ll just go check my email to see if he’s replied and let you know.’ I place my mug on the coffee table and start towards the stairs.

  ‘Nora?’ I turn around to find Sarah behind
me. ‘Don’t feel obliged. With your friend or with me. You’re finding your legs and it’s okay to be confused. I’d just like you to know that I’m here when you need and I understand there will be times when you don’t need me.’

  I hug her and immediately feel relief. She is exactly how I imagined her to be, the mother I always dreamed of having.

  ‘Thank you.’

  I leap up the stairs, and shut the door of my room to wipe the fresh tears that heat my eyes and blur my vision. It should feel amazing that I have her, finally a mother figure I can rely on. While it’s comforting, it also serves as a reminder for what I missed my whole childhood. Her presence is both warming and torture.

  I do what I normally do when I feel sorry myself. I open my wardrobe and pull out a box from the top shelf. It’s a tattered shoe box with tartan wrapping paper covering it. My breath quickens as I lift the lid. Behind me, my desk shakes and a low rumble inside my drawer grows into an incessant thump.

  ‘No!’ I command. I don’t need to go see her, I’m just letting go. I’m giving one last glance to the mother I lost, so I can make space for the step-mother that waits for me.

  The orb ceases.

  Inside the box sits, well, not many things. A silver locket necklace that Mum gave me, a swimming cap, tickets to the circus, a couple of photos, and that letter. It’s probably time to throw the letter out. I pick it up and run my fingers around the edges, time has discoloured the crisp white paper but the ink is still as harsh and afflictive as ever.

  I gave up on loving her… she tore my insides out… why bother pretending to love something that has trapped you?

  Reading the words now, still feels the same as it did the first time I read them. Painful.

  A bang and tearing noise startle me. I spin around to see the tape that holds the drawer shut begin to rip. A blue-green light shines through the cracks.

  ‘No, no no,’ I beg, lunging for the desk, but deep down I know it’s too late.

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