The Elysian Prophecy Page 2

  "Really? Here's a good idea: don't give people heart attacks." Abi turned and took her seat at the back of the class, knowing Cora would be in hot pursuit.

  "Homework time for the party! It's perfect. You get to feel all warm and fuzzy because you're helping me get better grades, and I get to be the amazing friend who helped her bestie celebrate a freaking huge accomplishment."

  Their teacher went through roll call and Abi pretended to wait patiently for her name, avoiding Cora's gaze.

  Maybe this was the perfect excuse. If she got caught, it wouldn't be as bad as just going out for the hell of it. She was doing it for a cause.

  Abi rolled her eyes. What was she thinking? A cop wouldn't take ‘homework time’ as an excuse if she got caught.

  "Jesse will be there the whole time, nothing bad will happen with him there." Cora leaned into Abi and whispered, "I know I talk a lot of shit, but these parties aren't crazy. No cops are ever called. They're as tame as can be."

  The glint in Cora's eyes suggested otherwise.

  Turning to their teacher, Abi ignored the occasional texts and pokes she got from Cora. Deep down, she had already made up her mind.

  Abi didn't want to admit to her friend there were other reasons she was hesitant: she had never had alcohol before. Cora would likely shove a shot of some awful liquor in her face, and what if she threw up? In front of a bunch of people? Her palms grew clammy at the thought.

  And what if she was a complete lightweight and got drunk too fast and made a fool out of herself? She was only fifteen, wasn't that too young for all of this?

  These were the same thoughts she'd had a hundred times before, but they didn't quell that fire in her gut. She deserved to celebrate. To reward herself for reaching this milestone.

  To hell with it.

  Once their teacher had her back to them, Abi whispered, "How much homework time are we talking about here?"

  Cora perked up, rotating to face Abi in her seat and struggling to keep her voice down. "A week!"

  "Two. And you'll do the extra credit in Mr. Regan's class." Her heart thumped as she ended the sentence, like she was already doing something she shouldn't.

  "Ugh, fine. Deal?"

  "Deal." This time, she didn't hold back her smile.

  When the bell rang, they walked out of class arm in arm, but to Abi, it felt more like skipping.

  "You seriously couldn't have agreed to a better party. Jesse said there's going to be a bunch of college students from Massachusetts for that big hockey game in Camden."

  Abi’s hesitance returned. College students? That meant they would be at least three years older, probably more if they were on a traveling hockey team.

  "We're going to have to find you something to wear though."

  "What's wrong with this?" She stopped and Cora whipped around to give her a "You must be joking!" look.

  "Um, because my grandma dresses better than you and she's dead."

  Abi laughed at the morbid comparison.

  Cora squeezed Abi's arm and she returned the squeeze. The day had just begun. The rest of her life had just begun.

  # THREE

  Ben's luck was getting better and better. The gut wrenching despair from earlier in the day had only gotten worse. Not only had he failed Mr. Flynn's test, but Mr. Flynn was also coming over for dinner.

  Because, as Ben had all the luck in the world, his dad just so happened to be best friends with Mr. Flynn.

  To the point that several years ago, Ben and Abi had to make a conscious effort to stop calling him Uncle Ravi—the adults unanimously considered it unprofessional.

  In the beginning, Ben thought he would have an easier time getting away with slacking off in class. Instead of turning a blind eye to Ben's lack of motivation in academia, Mr. Flynn seemed to push him even harder. He never, ever let Ben off the hook.

  So, after just one semester of his class, Ben had grown to hate Mr. Flynn.

  A lot.

  "Ben! Help me set the table," his dad bellowed up the stairs.

  Ben had been waiting until the last second to head downstairs. Which had come, apparently. The room tilted as he rose from his chair, and he stumbled, his big toe connecting with a solid hockey bag on the floor. He stumbled over the bag before catching himself, fighting down a string of curse words. The pain built up and up as Ben hissed between his teeth, the dizziness subsiding.

  Just perfect.

  He shoved his hockey gear aside and trampled on the clothes littering the ground.

  As soon as he opened his door, he could hear the clamor of people downstairs. Abi had invited Cora over and their loud chattering drifted up from the living room.

  Ben always thought Cora was such an odd girl. He couldn't keep up with her changing hair colors and didn't care to. There were plenty of rumors around school concerning Cora, and Ben didn't want her being a bad influence on his little sister.

  The aroma of spiced Italian food reached him as he descended the stairs. His stomach growled and he remembered he had skipped lunch.

  Neither girl glanced up from Abi's laptop as he passed through the living room. His dad scraped some chopped tomatoes into a large bowl of salad, before wiping his hands on his apron. Ben had told him a hundred times how ridiculous it was that he wore one while cooking, but the apron stayed no matter what he said.

  "Why can't Abi set the table?" Ben grumbled as he opened the kitchen cabinets.

  "Because she has a guest. And you watch your tone with me." His dad took a beat to look Ben square in the eye, pointing the salad utensil at him. This small reprimand wasn't enough to calm Ben down, but he knew he'd be better off not making matters worse. He rolled his eyes and set a stack of plates on the table in the dining room, a space that only ever got used for dinners like this one.

  Just as he had set the last fork down, his mom rounded the corner. She was dressed nicely, with her dark hair brushed through and loose around her shoulders. She wore a plain blue dress that accentuated the blue in her pale eyes and, on her, it looked fancy. Her usual attire consisted of a dingy nightgown and knotted hair.

  "Bennie." She smiled at him. Mr. Flynn's visits always brought her back to life.

  Instead of jumping at the opportunity to talk to her, though, Ben remained silent. What was so special about Mr. Flynn? Their dad's best friend got more attention from her than her own children. It was enough to make his insides pulse with molten anger. A child shouldn't be jealous of their mother's attentions, but she made her preferences so obviously clear. He assumed this was why Abi always invited Cora over for these monthly dinners as well—so she didn't have to put in the effort to avoid the uncomfortable shift in their mother's personality.

  Their mom stood awkwardly near the table and flinched when the doorbell rang. But her moment of terror switched to warmth. Mr. Flynn was here.

  "I've got it." Her voice was light and pleasant as she strode toward the door.

  Ben balled his fists where he stood. Those three little words were the most lucid thingsshe had said all week. He wondered how his dad felt about all of this but he seemed his usual self, calm and positive.

  Everyone greeted Mr. Flynn as he took his coat off, helping himself to their coat closet like he belonged there before moving through the living room and into the dining room. Although he wasn’t a very tall or large man, there was something about him that was too relaxed in his house, too confident.

  Avoiding his gaze as much as possible, Ben sat down beside his teacher. His unfortunate, yet normal, spot.

  Mr. Flynn paid special attention to his mom before striking up a conversation about whatever historians talked about between bites of food and sips of their wine. Ben listened with strained ears but didn't hear the conversation. He was too busy listening for words like test, grades, and failing to comprehend what anyone was saying.

  Ben monitored Mr. Flynn from the corner of his eye, searching for some indication he would spill the beans.

  No sign yet.

  He too
k a bite of the lasagna.

  It was delicious. Several short cooking classes and years of practice after their mom got sick had turned their dad into a pseudo-chef. The next bite felt thick in his mouth.

  His panic spiked as his thoughts raced. What if Mr. Flynn had witnessed the locker incident somehow? It had been a crowded hallway, but it was still possible. If he was losing control like his mom, Mr. Flynn would know exactly how that looked. His face was the first Ben had seen when he woke up in the hospital all those years ago.

  "How's Mr. Flynn's class been treating you, Ben?" His dad had a jovial expression on his face, like he had meant to tease Mr. Flynn instead of him. Ben’s cheeks warmed, nonetheless.

  "Good." He shoved a large bite in his mouth.

  "Oh, is that so? Well, Ravi, maybe you're a better teacher than I gave you credit for." His dad laughed, and it amazed Ben how a reply that sounded so positive could be so negative.

  "Actually," Mr. Flynn started. The food hardened in Ben’s stomach. This was it. He was going to tell his dad he had failed. "I wanted to talk to him after dinner about that."

  Ben glanced at his dad, afraid of his reaction.

  His dad looked skeptically from Mr. Flynn to his son for a moment and then continued to eat. "Whatever you say. Ben's old enough to handle himself now, so I'll leave it to you two."

  A clatter startled Ben, and he scrambled to pick his fork back up. He couldn't believe those words had just come out of his dad's mouth. Maybe he wouldn't freak out as much as Ben had expected. Then again, his dad didn't actually know how bad it was.

  The weight in his chest dissipated.

  "So, I wanted to tell everyone something." Abi had hardly eaten and Ben finally noticed there was something different about her. She buzzed with excitement. All eyes turned on her and the words rushed out. "The Indie Youth Magazine decided to publish my piece!"

  "Abi, that's wonderful!" Their mother was the first to respond, followed quickly by their dad and Mr. Flynn, bursting into congratulations.

  "I knew they would accept it, honey, that's great." Dad beamed at Abi, his smile lines bunching up at the corners of his eyes.

  Another emotion tainted Ben’s excitement for his sister and he tried to tamp it down. His parents never treated his accomplishments with this much excitement. But he knew Abi had been working for nearly a year on winning that competition. He wanted her to get out of Logan’s Bluff as much as she did, even if there was no hope for him.

  He was proud of her in a way. After their mom had gotten sick, his dad had pulled him aside. It was up to Ben to look after Abi. And that's what happened. The two of them would scurry through their shared bathroom to his room, and turn up the TV volume to drown out their mom's screams during the darker times.

  All of that was over now. It was almost time for Abi to move on.

  "This calls for celebration." Their dad stood up, his chair scooting loudly across the floor. He reached into the top of the cabinet and set delicately stemmed shot glasses on the counter.

  "Whoa, I don't think I'm okay with this." Mr. Flynn's voice was laced with humor and he winked at Abi.

  Each shot glass got a splash of purple liqueur, except for one, which Dad filled with juice. He handed them out with a wide smile, giving the juice-filled glass to their mom.

  "To Abi," his dad said. "The best writer I know."

  Everyone raised their glass and Ben held his just a few inches higher. It had been a while since they had toasted to anything, and Ben knew how much Abi had wanted this.

  "To Abi." Glasses clinked loudly together, Cora finishing hers first. Ben gave Abi a half smile before drinking his. She didn't see it.

  "So, which piece was it?"

  Abi didn't spare a second telling Mr. Flynn all about it.

  Their dad and Cora jumped in, their questions coming in rapid fire.

  "How much money are you going to make?"

  "Now that you're a professional, when are you getting that novel published?"

  They hung on every word Abi said as she explained her plans after the magazine was published. No one else was in a rush to leave and he nudged his food around on his plate.

  Mom excused herself to go to the restroom, holding her posture straighter than she ever did when Mr. Flynn wasn't there.

  Ben slid his plate away and waited for dinner to be over.

  When she had gone, Mr. Flynn lowered his voice to Dad. Abi and Cora were talking loudly on the other end of the table, so Ben had to focus to hear.

  "How's she been?"

  Dad sighed. "You know. A lot of the same."

  "Well, I appreciate you having me over for dinner."

  Ben's dad reached out and briefly grabbed Mr. Flynn's shoulder. "You know how much of a help it is, you coming. She needs these visits to feel normal again." He glanced up, almost involuntarily, at Ben and Abi before continuing. "I think we all do."

  "I can tell you one thing." Mr. Flynn downed the small amount of wine still in his glass. "I'll never turn down the opportunity to eat your cooking."

  They laughed and when his mom came back, she joined in too. She didn't even ask what they were so amused about though she laughed louder than they were. No one seemed to think this was strange. His dad just appeared to be happy she wasn't locked in her studio, mumbling strange words.

  Ben took a deep breath, and tried to forget the test. He knew it was ruining his evening, but he still wanted to get away. Everything was irritating him and he wanted the dinner to end as fast as possible.

  The time ticked slowly on.

  Nearly an hour after dinner, Mr. Flynn asked Ben to step outside with him. The entire family had been in the living room. Mr. Flynn and his dad had moved onto drinking beer while they reminisced about their college days. Abi and Cora had gone back to their laptop, sharing a large recliner. Abi's quick glances at their dad and their hushed voices made Ben think they were trying to be sneaky. He would ordinarily tease her for something like that or devise a way to snatch the laptop away to see what they were up to. But he’d been too tired for that.

  Ben led the way down the hall and out onto the enclosed patio. It was heated like the rest of the house, but cool air emanated from the large windows. The full moon cloaked the property in an eerie light. Ben's heart rate quickened. He was glad when Mr. Flynn didn't sit.

  "Son, you know you're like family," he huffed. "How can I get you to apply yourself in class? You're not even trying anymore."

  "I'm busy."

  "Too busy not to fail?"

  To Ben's ears, it seemed as if Mr. Flynn had screamed these words, and he worried his family might overhear their conversation.

  "I'm just not good at history. It's stupid." He knew what Mr. Flynn would say, but he couldn't think his way out of this one. Not like Abi would have been able to. Then again, she wouldn't even have been in this situation to begin with.

  "You think history is stupid?"

  "Yes." He clenched his teeth. "Do you really think I'll ever use history in life?"

  Mr. Flynn stared at him, probably thinking about what a waste of space he was. "I want to offer my tutoring services. I believe you can learn this material and I'm willing to help you."

  Instead of dispelling the nerves bundled in his chest, this offer only wound them tighter. He had expected Mr. Flynn to be more combative, not compassionate. His chest ached and his breathing became shallow. Mr. Flynn wasn't the good guy here. He was the one that had called on Ben all those times for answers he knew Ben didn't have.

  "Why? You seem to get a kick out of making a fool out of me in class." He knew it was a petty comment the moment the words left his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

  "No, I don't. I treat you just like I treat anyone else who's failing my classes. Actually, scratch that." Here it was. Mr. Flynn would finally admit he had it out for Ben. "I haven't offered my tutoring services to them like I am you."

  Another surprising comment. Ben didn't know what else to do at this point.
"And you'll pass me if I do?"

  "Absolutely not." Ben opened his mouth to protest when Mr. Flynn continued, "If you pass your tests, then I'll pass you. I'm not handing anything out to anyone. Just because some teachers give you and your other friends a freebie doesn't mean you should expect that kind of treatment from everyone. Once you graduate, you're going to realize the rest of the world doesn't work like that."

  Ben knew that. He realized these were his golden years, the only time he'd be able to cut corners. He would be graduating in a year and while all of his friends were celebrating, he dreaded each day that drew him closer to that stage. He didn't want the responsibility, and he couldn't tell anyone it scared the shit out of him. Mr. Flynn stood quietly, waiting for Ben's answer.

  Shifting from one foot to the other, Ben couldn't hold Mr. Flynn's gaze anymore. "What will I have to do?"

  The tension in Mr. Flynn's body dissolved. He knew he had won. "Study time. I'll help you with anything you're unsure about and help you prepare for the tests."

  Ben wanted so badly to tell him how prepared he would be if he just handed the answers to him. But that would be a typical thing for Ben to say. Maybe this was his chance to prove himself. To be better.

  "When do we start?"

  "Tomorrow." Mr. Flynn held out his hand. Ben stared at it, wondering what he had signed up for, before shaking it.

  They returned to the living room with everyone else, and Ben spent the rest of the evening on the couch with his phone out, listening in on Mr. Flynn and his dad. It surprised Ben that Mr. Flynn hadn't told his dad about the tutoring sessions or the grades. Had he done that on purpose, so Ben would more readily agree to tutoring?

  It didn’t take long for Mr. Flynn to jump into another debate with his mom and dad, the former not really offering up much conversation. Ben seized his chance and snuck away to his room. He passed Abi and Cora to go upstairs, both of them whispering suspiciously to one another. His door clicked quietly behind him and he flipped the fan on, collapsing onto his bed. His body ached from his all-day panic. He wondered what he would tell Mike the next day when he stayed later than usual. He would have to slip away when the school bell rang. But how long would he have to keep that up?