Elemental: Chapter Two, Part 3

I awaited Drei at the gate to my community, as was promised the night he walked me home. I had been waiting for such a long time I nearly believed he had forgotten. Around midnight, however, I saw his form sauntering up the street with a grace and elegance reminiscent of felines.

A smile was visible on his lips when he was but a few paces away. “Have you waited long?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I lied.

“Come along,” he said, motioning with a tilt of his head. “I trust we have plenty to discuss.”

We walked in silence to the café, occasionally stealing glances at each other, and bursting into nervous laughter when we caught one another in the act. I loved his laugh, even if it did still sound slightly unnatural. He was a miracle, though. That was the only way I could think of to describe him fully.

The Café Cherie was between the shady part of town and the touristy part. It was tasteful and radiated an atmosphere similar to that in Paris. Since it was “touristy,” I had never been there because that would be the equivalent of social suicide. However, being with Drei, all of the pointlessness of my peers seemed to evaporate.

We sat indoors near a window since it was a chilly night and we still wanted the view—the touristy section of town had undergone a major beautification. There were only a few other patrons in the café, a couple tucked into a corner booth and a single man hunched over a coffee mug at the shiny counter. We both ordered lattes—mine decaf, for obvious reasons.

“How has this past week been?” Drei asked casually before sipping at his latte.

I inhaled deeply, grateful I could again. “Long,” I replied. “I had a cold all week. I missed school, but I didn’t really enjoy not being able to do anything.”

“You missed school for a cold?” he asked.

“Well,” I started, gazing into my latte. I didn’t really want to tell him, but at the same time I didn’t want him to think I was pathetic. “I’m fairly certain giant sneezing fits are not the norm for a cold, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

An eyebrow cocked above his left eye as he asked, “What exactly do giant sneezing fits entail?”

“Tissue boxes flying across the room, for one,” I said quickly, not yet daring a peek at him, afraid he wouldn’t believe me. I wanted nothing more in the world than for him to believe me. It would mean I wasn’t totally off my rocker.

“I see,” he said, drawing away into his mind.

He didn’t speak again for a while, and I didn’t wish to disturb his thoughts. Instead, I burrowed into my own thoughts, imagining how I would make him believe me—I wasn’t having much luck with my brainstorming since the cold had seemed to vanish that morning. When he did speak next, it nearly made me spit out the mouthful of latte I had just taken.

“Move the salt shaker on that table,” he instructed, pointing, “without standing up.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” I asked when I had recovered.

He looked at me as though it was the stupidest thing I could have asked. “Focus on the air around it. Feel the air and make it an extension of yourself. Shape it in your mind’s eye into something tangible that can move another thing.”

Any sarcastic remark I might have made was lost in my utter shock and confusion. All I could do was stare at him blankly, hoping my face relayed my question.

“Just do it.”

So I tried. I focused on what I could not see and surprisingly, found I felt my heart jump, as if growing. The longer I focused on the open space, willing the air to pull into something I could see, the more I saw the air shift and begin to take an obscure form.

Startled, I broke my concentration and the air scattered into invisibility again.

“What happened?” Drei asked calmly.

“The air—it was—you didn’t see it?” If he hadn’t seen it, I really was going crazy. I imagined how my mother would react if she found out. She’d probably try to justify it as a deprivation of some sort.

His hair jostled about his face before he replied, “I cannot see what you do with the air. I, like anyone else who may be paying attention, can only see the final product.”

My jaw hung loose before I pulled it back up. My hands were still shaking at my sides from the shock of what I had seen, in part because I was afraid I really was going insane.

“Try again,” Drei prompted as if this happened every day. At least one of us was acting somewhat normal—though I wasn’t sure who that was. “And this time, do not panic.”

Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to try again, I focused until what I could not previously see took an indistinct shape. Tilting my head to one side, I found the shape shifted, and, consequently, moved the saltshaker an inch to the left.

“I did it!” I shrieked, excited at discovering this new talent. It was exciting, even if it was weird.

When I looked to Drei, he merely nodded, as if having proved some fact.