Legend of the Guardians E-Book

Nina Marini

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Ever dreamt of being a superhero?

For fourteen-year-old Riley, Taisia, Evelina and Skyler it's not a dream, but a painful reality. They were born with powers that could wield fire, water, wind and earth. But they were never told about their true identities. In fact, they didn't know about each other until their acceptance to one of the most prestigious schools in San Francisco, Aditus High School.

While living in the same house, hosted by an extravagant Natalie Sharp, the girls begin to realize how different they are from each other. Riley is a clown, Skyler is a princess, Evelina is a rebel and Taisia is a bookworm. But despite their polar opposite personalities, Riley and Taisia become best friends and embark on a journey to unravel the mystery behind their true identities. Along the way, they face the challenges of a normal high school lifestyle: homework, pop quizzes, bullies, crushes...and a high-tech game, known as the Eylox Tournament.

In a parallel universe, hidden deep down in the Pacific Ocean and inhabited by wondrous creatures, lies the Aethereus Palace. It is also home to a treelike seer, known as Meridius the Guardian of Celestial Light. He maintains peace and harmony within the planet, and he keeps a watchful eye on Riley, Taisia, Evelina and Skyler. He knows their true identities, and he knows their fatal destinies.

Their existence marks an impending war...

Leseprobe

Legend of the Guardians

The Astorians Book 1

Nina Marini

Copyright (C) 2016 Nina Marini

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Nina Marini

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter 1

Riley Weaver drowned in her own sweat.

The air was poisoned with the foul stench of trash that spilled out of the nearby dumpsters, and the blistering heat threatened to peel the skin off her bones. Her pale face glowed a dull shade of red underneath the black hoodie, and she impatiently wiped the beads of sweat on her forehead with the back of her tattered sleeve.

Despite the scorching summer sun, Riley hid her porcelain skin in an oversized sweatshirt. It belonged to her dad, and it had “Leave It To Weaver Pool Service” written across the chest in chunky, white letters.

She passed by the front porch of an old, decaying trailer home and glared at the nine-year-old twins she had the misfortune of babysitting last summer. The pudgy boys had set her hair on fire with a blowtorch when she decided to take a nap on the old, moth-eaten couch in their living room.

She got even by whacking them on the head with a broom. They complained to their parents and in return, she got fired on the spot. She didn't miss that job one bit. It was dangerous and underpaid, to say the least.

The twins stopped splashing around in their plastic, wading pool and greeted her with cold stares.

Riley cut through the long, narrow alley that led to her mobile home and came to an abrupt stop. Underneath a lonely palm tree, taking shelter in the cool shade, sat a group of girls that had made her life miserable in Junior High.

Despite being underaged, they smoked cigarettes and guzzled down canned beer.

Riley took a deep breath, pinned her eyes to the ground and scurried along, hoping to avoid bloodshed. Their last encounter left her with a black eye and a bruised lip.

“Freak alert!” One of the girls called out.

Riley tensed up and quickened her pace.

She didn't get too far. A huge chunk of dirt suddenly hit the back of her hooded head and halted her to an abrupt stop.

The girls howled with laughter. “Bull's eye!” One of them screeched hysterically.

Riley clenched her hands into tight, trembling fists and whirled around. “What's your problem?” She demanded angrily, even though her heart thumped wildly inside of her chest.

Joanna Smalls cracked her beefy knuckles and stepped forth. She was a short, fat girl with piggish eyes, a pockmarked face and a large, bulbous nose. She was merciless. Her notorious reputation for biting ears off her opponents in a fistfight earned her the nickname Tyson Jo.

She belched loudly and crushed the empty can of Bud Light before chugging it at the graffiti-scarred utility pole.

“How many times have I told you not to take this path, Weaver? It belongs to me, so now you have to pay the toll!” She snarled.

“I'm not paying a toll. Nothing in this stupid town belongs to you. When will you get that through your big, fat head?” Riley spit back indignantly, forgetting for a second that she was outnumbered, five to one.

A ripple of sinister oohs snaked through the pack. Tyson Jo pursed her chapped lips until they were barely visible.

“Looks like someone needs to get smacked down from her high horse,” Mary-Anne hissed.

Mary-Anne was a giant, paunchy girl with uneven, yellow teeth and thin, oily hair. Her nickname in school was Bloody Mary. She earned it in fifth grade when she stabbed one of the boys in the arm with a pencil because he called her Porky the Pig.

Riley swallowed hard. She told herself that she should have just kept her mouth shut and paid up Tyson Jo. Instead, she signed her own death warrant.

Tyson Jo quickly snatched the hood off Riley's head and revealed a mane of red curls. They fell softly around her moon-shaped face and reached down to her waist.

Riley inherited her fiery-red hair and emerald-green eyes from her missing mother. According to her dad, she was the spitting image of Caroline Belle — a woman he once loved and a mother she never knew.

Because of that, she hated her looks.

“You're testing my patience, you little turd. Pay up or get your face smashed in!” Tyson Jo waved an angry fist in front of Riley's face.

“I don't have any money.”

Tyson Jo grabbed a fistful of Riley's sweatshirt and lifted her off the ground. “Don't pretend to be stupid, Weaver. What did I tell you last week? Next time I see you again, you better have money on you or else you're dead meat.”

“I—I forgot!” Riley lied.

Tyson Jo dropped her on the ground. ”Hold her arms,” she told Mary-Anne.

Before Riley could protest, her arms got twisted behind her back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She yelled.

“You're pissing me off, Weaver.” Tyson Jo searched through Riley's denim pockets and fished out a wallet. “Let's see what you have here.”

Her eyes sparkled when she came across a wrinkly twenty-dollar bill. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone was lying to me.”

“That's mine!” Riley tried to free her arms from Mary-Anne's vice-like grip, but she was not strong enough.

“No, that's my money! If you lie to me again, Weaver, I'll beat you to a pulp. Understand?” Tyson Jo threw the wallet on the ground and stomped on it.

Without thinking, Riley kicked Tyson Jo in the shin. She didn't know what came over her, but when she watched the girl howl in pain, she realized what she had done. This act of stupidity would definitely earn her a black eye, or worse, a broken nose.

“You little turd!” Tyson Jo swung her fist and hit Riley in the face.

Riley's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she crumpled to the ground. Without wasting precious time, Tyson Jo leaped on top of her, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pummeled her face with rabid punches.

Riley tried to block the punches, but her arms were pinned to the ground by Tyson Jo's knees.

Her face ached with the intensity of a first-degree burn. It didn't take long before blood started oozing out of her nostrils. It snaked down her chin and dripped down on the ground, pooling into a small, scarlet puddle.

The world was suddenly turning black in Riley's eyes. She was seconds away from slipping into oblivion when something strange, and yet familiar, stirred in the pit of her stomach.

She knew that feeling. Even though she felt it long ago, it left an invisible mark. It was a dark, mysterious power that slumbered deep within her like a fiery beast, only to reveal itself in a time of need.

Tyson Jo suddenly pierced the foul air with a blood-curdling scream.

Her black tee-shirt caught on fire.

“HELP ME!” She tried to beat the scarlet flames with her large, calloused hands, but they bit back.

Mary-Anne tugged the burning tee shirt off her hysterical friend and tossed it on the ground. She stomped on the flames, but they refused to surrender. Instead, they morphed together to produce a silhouette of a small, fiery cat.

The mysterious creature leaped on the horrified Tyson Jo and clawed at her face with its fiery paws.

Tyson Jo howled in pain.

“Let's get outta here! She's a witch!” She scrambled to her feet. She hurried down the dirt path with Mary-Anne and the rest of the girls following close behind.

Riley sat up slowly.

Her face was torn and bloody, and her right eye was swollen shut. Her body trembled from the adrenaline that pumped through her veins, but she couldn't peel her left eye from the mysterious creature.

She had never seen this cat before.

Riley remembered the day her mysterious power came to light. Even though she was only three years old at the time, the details of that day were forever etched into the back of her mind.

The memory was old and faded, like the sepia-toned photographs her father had of his grandparents.

It was a sweltering hot summer day.

Baby Riley splashed around in the bathtub. Her mother, Caroline Belle, sat near, on a shaggy rug, and busied herself with cleaning out the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.

She paused her humming when Riley became unnaturally quiet. She gingerly peeked inside the bathtub and gasped in horror.

Her daughter's tiny hands were burning like a flame, and when she clapped them together, she sent sparks of reddish-orange light into the shallow water.

Caroline Belle screamed like a banshee, yanked Riley out of the tub and scrambled out of the bathroom.

She called her husband at work and begged him to come home immediately. He did. They rushed the baby to the hospital, but when they arrived, the doctor found nothing out of the ordinary.

Caroline Belle grew fearful of Riley. She pleaded with John to give her up for adoption. When he refused, she packed up her suitcase and left in the middle of the night, never to be seen or heard of again.

Riley couldn't summon her power at will. She tried a couple of times but failed. It's been eleven years since she'd seen, or felt, this mysterious power. Almost as though reading her thoughts, the lithe, fiery cat wandered over to her and gently rubbed its head against her knee.

Riley reached out a trembling hand and stroked the cat's head. Her skin tingled, but it didn't burn. The cat purred with pleasure and continued to rub its whole body against her legs. Each time it did that, Riley could feel a wave of warmth surge through her body.

The cat looked up, its fiery red eyes taking in the dumbfounded expression on her face. Riley stopped petting it, wondering what it would do next.

Without a warning, the cat morphed back into a large, single flame and wrapped itself around her hand. Riley held her breath. Her skin didn't burn, but it felt warm and tingly.

“What are you doing out there?” A deep, smoke-burnished voice asked, and sliced through her thoughts like a knife through soft butter.

The flames disappeared.

Riley glanced up and stared at an old, hunched woman in a floral bathrobe and with a set of curlers in her snow-white hair.

Mrs. Crow was a retired History teacher. According to the urban legend at Willcox High, she ran over a football player with her 1970s Buick Riviera because he flipped her off in the parking lot.

He lived but transferred schools soon after.

She stood at the backdoor of her run-down mobile home with a grim look on her wrinkly, weathered face and a cigarette wedged between her thin lips.

“Don't you have better things to do than dumpster diving? Get outta here, you little hooligan!” She yelled angrily.

Riley scrambled to her feet and limped towards the old, faded mobile home where she lived alone with her dad for almost ten years. She kicked open the slashed screen door.

The small, dingy living room reeked of cigarettes, beer, and trash.

The sofa and the reclining chair were scarred with stains and holes. The wooden coffee table was missing the fourth leg, but it was propped up with a stack of expired cans of Spam. The TV on top of it was so old that it could barely play DVDs.

Online streaming was a foreign concept to Riley's dad, and he didn't care much for it.

Even though she fought long and hard with him, he refused to part with the shabby, outdated furniture. Every piece of it reminded him of Caroline Belle.

She tossed a disgusted glance around the messy room and headed down the long, narrow hallway towards the only functional bathroom in the house. The other one had been under construction for the past seven years.

Riley looked in the mirror and cringed at the sight of her bluish-black face. Her right eye resembled a squashed blueberry. Her nose was not broken, but it was swollen and covered in blood, and her lower lip was cut open.

She turned on the faucet and soaked a hand towel in cold water. Then, she gently wiped the blood off her face and heard a light knock on the door. She cast a surprised glance at the digital clock on the nightstand.

It flashed two-thirty in neon-red.

Her dad worked until six. Then, he'd head over to a hole-in-the-wall bar by the name of Dirty Buck to shoot a round of darts and guzzle down beer with his buds.

He never came home before midnight.

“Back so soon, old man—?” She stopped abruptly and looked around the empty living room.

On the floor, by the open screen door, lay a snow-white envelope. She picked it up and studied the fancy, gold writing on it.

It was addressed to her.

The emblem in the top left corner was a scarlet shield, outlined in a glistening shade of gold and divided into four sections. Each section had a symbol for fire, water, air, and earth.

Aditus High School was written in gold inside of a scarlet banner that wrapped around the shield.

Impatiently, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

It read:

Aditus High School

…built on a vast pool of knowledge and bravery.

Dear Ms. Riley Weaver,

We are pleased to inform you that based on the distinctive, creative piece you had submitted to the Poetry Society last year, you have been selected to refine your unique writing skills at Aditus High School.

Unfortunately, and I deeply regret to inform you, this year the school cannot provide you with housing. However, you have been given placement at the residence of one of our esteemed members of the Youth and Progress Committee (YPC), Miss Natalie Sharp. She is eager to welcome you to San Francisco and house you for the full school term.

Enclosed is a first-class ticket to San Francisco and a student Visa.

The term begins on September 1st. The students and professors at Aditus High School are excited to meet you.

Sincerely,

Adlai Mendela

Headmistress

Chapter 2

Taisia Romanova lay on a velvety blanket of green moss with an old, tattered paperback in her hands and a gentle smile on her lips.

She spent every summer with her babushka in a remote village of the Arkhangelsk Oblast' called Vershinino. It was a cluster of old, weather-beaten cottages that dotted the evergreen countryside and stretched along the shore of Lake Kenozero.

To pass time, Taisia spent countless hours with her nose in books. It was too cold to swim in the lake and the only TV her babushka owned got damaged a year ago from the roof leakage.

Taisia closed the book and gave out a deep sigh.

She loved romance novels, and like many others, this one ended on a happy note. The two lovers rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after.

She rolled over on her back and watched streaks of gold and copper stream through the tall, dense trees. Then, she folded her hands behind her head and listened to the chirping of the birds, the buzzing of bees among the sea of wildflowers and the rustle of the leaves.

Her imagination ran wild.

She closed her eyes and envisioned herself as a dragon slayer. Then, as a princess that embarked on a dangerous quest to regain her kingdom, and finally as a superhero that used her powers to save the world from an evil warlord.

Quickly, she cracked an eyelid open, propped up on her elbows and cast a surreptitious glance around the forest.

There was no one in sight.

She rolled over on her stomach, ripped off a plantain leaf and placed it in the palm of her hand.

A warm, tingly sensation rushed through her veins and pooled into her fingertips. The leaf suddenly levitated; then it twisted and turned as though it were alive.

Taisia giggled quietly.

At the age of three, she learned to grow flowers, and at the age of four, she could heal wounded animals. It was a gift that her mother feared and her babushka admired.

But with the good came the bad.

When Taisia turned six, she asked for a collectible Barbie doll for her birthday. Instead, she received a Teddy Bear. For the first time in her life, she threw a tantrum, and it resulted in a small earthquake. Not the kind that could shatter windows and disintegrate buildings, but the kind that could split the sidewalks and render her mother speechless.

Later on, Taisia apologized to her mother and promised to behave.

Her mother didn't make much money. She could barely make ends meet. Taisia knew that she worked three jobs in order to keep the food on the table and clothes on her back.

Taisia knew little of her father; only that he met her mother at the People's Friendship University of Russia (PFUR). According to the tale, he was tall, dark and devilishly handsome and she was blonde, bubbly and curvy.

It was love at first sight and it bound their hearts together, but a death in his family tore them apart. He never made it back home to Abeokuta, Nigeria. His plane crashed and the next day her mother discovered that she was pregnant.

Aside from the strange, supernatural power, Taisia knew that she was different from the other kids when she first stepped inside her kindergarten. While the other kids had fine, blonde hair and milky-white complexions, her skin was the shade of caramel and her hair was a mane of dark, corkscrew curls.

As a child, she hated her reflection in the mirror. She wanted to look like the other girls in class but as she got older and wiser, she fell in love with her unique beauty. It set her apart from the rest.

“Taisia!” A familiar voice cut through the tall trees.

Taisia jerked her chin up and dropped the leaf on the ground. She quickly grabbed her book, stood up and sprinted across the green forest.

In the middle of the road stood a short, buxom woman. She had a headful of short, silvery hair and a pair of steel-grey eyes that burned with fierceness.

Taisia halted at the sight of her babushka.

Babushka dipped her chin and gave Taisia's floral, spaghetti-strap dress a look of disapproval.

“What is that?”

“A summer dress,” Taisia replied with a smile.

“That flimsy fabric is a dress? It barely covers your lady parts! When I was your age I used to wear that under my dress, and back then it was called a slip. It's no wonder why teenage girls are getting pregnant by the minute nowadays.”

“Babushka…” Taisia groaned. “That's what girls wear nowadays.”

“Where's your jacket?” Babushka handed one of the mesh tote bags to Taisia.

“I didn't bring one.”

Babushka sighed. “How many times must I tell you to bring a blanket or a jacket when you lie on the cold ground? Honestly, child, do you want to have back problems before you're even twenty?”

Taisia chose to remain quiet as she followed babushka down the dirt road towards the wooden cottages that loomed in the distance. Babushka lived in a house that her father built during the Soviet era, and despite its shabby appearance, it was warm and cozy inside.

Taisia nudged the old, wooden gate with her foot and it swung open with a loud creak. The front yard bloomed with green, leafy vegetables that she helped grow. She paused on the porch when she heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Nina! Nina!”

It was Matvei, the local postman. Sadly, he was the only link to the outside world in a rural village like Vershinino.

He wore a camouflage jacket over a striped tank top, puke-green pants and black, rubber boots. He held down the mailbag that slung over his shoulder and hurried through the tall grass outside of Babushka's cottage.

“Nina!” He waved a white envelope high in the air.

Babushka swept a curious glance over his flustered, red face. “What is the matter with you? You'll burst your old lungs if you continue to scream like that! Did you step on the rake and hit yourself on the head again?”

Matvei gasped for air. “You got a letter—”

“So?”

“From America!” He exclaimed. His usual dull, listless eyes glowed with excitement. “It's for your grand-daughter!”

Taisia dropped the avoska on the front porch and rushed over to the gate. Her curiosity made her forget her manners as she snatched the envelope from Matvei.

“San Francisco?” She whispered breathlessly.

“California.”

Taisia bubbled with excitement. Her heart pounded inside of her chest as she lightly traced her finger over the embossed symbol. It read Aditus High school inside of the scarlet banner that circled the golden shield.

“Open it,” Matvei whispered impatiently.

With trembling hands, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

It read:

Aditus High School

…built on a vast pool of knowledge and bravery.

Dear Miss Taisia Romanova,

We are pleased to inform you that based on your outstanding Academic achievements, award-winning dance recitals and compassionate volunteer service at the animal shelter in the Arkhangelsk Oblast' you have been selected to attend Aditus High School.

Unfortunately, and I deeply regret to inform you, this year the school cannot provide you with housing. However, you have been given placement at the residence of one of our esteemed members of the Youth and Progress Committee (YPC), Miss Natalie Sharp. She is eager to welcome you to San Francisco and house you for the full school term.

Enclosed is a first-class ticket to San Francisco and a student Visa.

Term begins on September 1st. The students and professors at Aditus High School are excited to meet you.

Sincerely,

Adlai Mendela

Headmistress

Chapter 3

“I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!”

Skyler O'Hara was livid. Three of her text messages and two of her phone calls were ignored.

She was on a mission to take a selfie. Her twelve million followers on Instagram needed to see her perfectly contoured face, and her toned, sun-kissed body swathed in a mesh panel dress and her boyfriend's bee-stung lips pressed gently to her cheek.

Skyler was a fashion blogger, and with the help of her family's vast connections and infinite wealth, became the world's leading influencer.

She received endless invitations to runway shows, glamorous after-parties, commercials that advertised high-end beauty products and even offers for leading roles in movies. And even though she was only fourteen years old, she had her own team of stylists, assistants, market analysts, lawyers, and social media managers.

She stood on the balcony, gripped the decorative iron banister and searched through the sea of faceless strangers below. Her father's multi-million dollar mansion was invaded by a horde of Hollywood celebrities, runway models, fashion designers, and socialites.

The men wore Italian suits and the women squeezed their Pilate-obsessed, bronze bodies into skintight dresses to celebrate her stepmother's twenty-third birthday.

Kaleigh was a swimsuit model. Skyler's father met her at the Monaco Grand Prix party a year ago and a week later, he put a 16-Carat diamond ring on her finger.

He didn't care that his new wife was thirty years his junior. In fact, their gigantic age difference motivated him to get a pre-wedding facelift and switch over to a gluten-free, non-GMO, vegan diet.

Skyler's parents divorced three years ago due to irreconcilable differences, so she had to divide her time between California and New York.

Her mother was engrossed in art – even though she never touched a paintbrush in her life – and preferred to mingle with Picasso wannabes on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Her father, on the other hand, enjoyed golf, surfing and the California sun.

Skyler climbed down the sweeping staircase. Her strappy, white heels click-clacked against the polished marble floor as she crossed the foyer and stepped inside the elegant dining room.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled and cascaded down from the tall ceiling. Intricate floral bouquets, decorative candles and platinum, mosaic dinnerware topped the infinitely long table.

The room was buzzing with orchestral music, drunken laughter and endless chattering.

Waiters ran around with trays laden with sizzling delicacies and fiery drinks, and carefully maneuvered around the champagne pyramids and gigantic ice sculptures.

Skyler glimpsed her father in the crowd, his arm was wrapped around a raven-haired bombshell. Kaleigh, on the other hand, was shamelessly flirting with one of Hollywood's leading men.

Skyler gave their marriage three months; she knew her father too well.

She swept a cursory glance over the guests. Her boyfriend of two days was missing, and the thought of him flirting with another girl at her stepmother's party was making her incredibly annoyed.

She met him forty-eight hours ago at a yacht party in Ibiza. Just like Skyler, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but his father came from old money and hers rose from rags to riches.

Skyler grabbed a shot of Jägermeister from the bar, and even though she was underage, chugged it down in one gulp.

It set off fireworks in her brain and lit her skin on fire.

Her father didn't care if she got drunk at home, so she braved another shot and walked outside.

The warm, balmy air-kissed her bare skin and sent a shiver down her spine. She raked her stiletto nails through her silky, turquoise bob and staggered to the pool with a cascading waterfall.

Skyler found her boyfriend kissing a peroxide blonde in a raised Jacuzzi.

“What the hell—” She forgot his name.

“It's not what it looks like!” Her so-called boyfriend quickly pushed the girl away to prove his point.

“Don't lie to me—whatever your name is!” Skyler barked angrily and teetered on her heels. “I've been looking all over for you! I can't believe I caught you making out with some white trash in my Jacuzzi! Well, guess what? I don't need you for my selfie 'cause you don't even come out right. And, we're through!”

He pulled himself out of the bubbling Jacuzzi and let the water snake down his washboard abs. The sight of his tall, athletic body made her weak in the knees. He looked as though he walked out of the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.

She suddenly regretted her decision to dump him.

He wrapped his muscular arms around her slender waist as the peroxide blonde scampered nervously back inside the house.

“Come on, baby. Let's just forget about this. She's just trash. Come on, you know it's nothing serious with that kind of a girl.” His deep, husky whisper tickled the tip of her nose and it was hard for Skyler to focus on anything but his lips.

“You said the same thing the first night you asked me out, when I caught you groping one of the dancers on the yacht.”

He gently brushed his lips against hers. “Come on, baby. That was different.”

She pushed him off. “I said we're done.”

“Come on, baby. We're perfect for each other.”

He grabbed her wrist, and when she tried to turn away, he whirled her back around. His eyes were glazed over and Skyler realized that he was drunk. She was used to seeing drunk or drugged-out people — that was the ugly side of fame and fortune.

She tried to shake off his firm grip, but he held on tight.

“Take your hand off me. Now!”

He didn't. Instead he pulled her body into an awkward hug. “Come 'ere. Give me a kiss.”

His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Skyler grimaced in disgust when he left a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on her face.

“GET OFF ME!” She rammed the heel of her hand into his forehead and shoved him back.

He staggered on his feet and gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “Come on. Don't act like a nun! I heard rumors about you. You're not a sweet, innocent princess.”

“Shut up!” She slapped him across the face.

In return, he backhanded her across the jaw. Skyler was stunned. Nobody had ever dared to hit her back.

Tears sprung up from her cornflower-blue eyes. She teetered on her five-inch heels and fell on the ground. It was a miracle that she didn't break her ankle in the process.

Her now ex-boyfriend howled with laughter. “Sometimes you need to learn the hard way, babe.”

His words cut through her like a knife.

She clenched her jaw and balled-up her fists. Her body ached with raw hatred, and it sent a numbing sensation down her spine.

The water in the pool began to simmer. Within seconds, a powerful wave crashed into her ex-boyfriend's body and slammed him into the ground.

He lay unconscious.

She staggered to her feet and limped towards a lounge chaise. Her designer dress was drenched in sweat, and she trembled like a leaf. She breathed deeply, trying to calm the psychotic beating of her heart.

Last time her mysterious power reared its ugly head, she almost killed a little boy.

When she turned three, her parents threw a lavish pool party to celebrate her birthday. One of the guests, a six-year-old boy by the name of Elliot, wouldn't let her climb atop of the inflatable unicorn pool float. He kept pushing her off and claiming it as his own.

Finally, he kicked her so hard in the head that she began to cry. Along with her tears came a gigantic wave. It rose from the pool, like a snake, and tossed the little boy to the other side of the yard.

He lived, but the incident traumatized Skyler.

She was afraid that her secret would be discovered. She didn't want to be branded a freak or worse, lose her fame and fortune because of it. No one — not even her parents — knew about this power.

“Miss O'Hara?”

Skyler jolted upright. “What?” She said tersely when she realized that it was just a maid.

“There's a letter for you.” The maid lowered down the silver tray.

Skyler tore open the snow-white envelope without glancing at the golden shield on the front, and ruthlessly yanked out a letter.

“Bring me a glass of water and—” she paused when her ex-boyfriend gave out a muffled groan, “—remove that from my property.”

While the maid quickly rushed over to her ex-boyfriend, Skyler unfolded the letter.

It read:

Aditus High School

…built on a vast pool of knowledge and bravery.

Dear Miss Skyler O'Hara,

We are pleased to inform you that based on your successful social media campaigns, exceptional entrepreneurial skills and fashion trend forecasting, you have been selected to attend Aditus High School.

Unfortunately, and I deeply regret to inform you, this year the school cannot provide you with housing. However, you have been given placement at the residence of one of our esteemed members of the Youth and Progress Committee (YPC), Miss Natalie Sharp. She is eager to welcome you to San Francisco and house you for the full school term.

Enclosed is a first-class ticket to San Francisco and a student Visa.

Term begins on September 1st. The students and professors at Aditus High School are excited to meet you.

Sincerely,

Adlai Mendela

Headmistress