Elementia: The Rise of the Chosen

My day was going great before the disaster in third period. Not that it was a great day to begin with, but it was certainly better than having to explain to my mom why exactly I was given a week’s worth of detention.

My name is Brooklyn Hawke. You see, I’m not exactly what you would call the “cool kid”. I’m about as average as you can imagine except for my freakishly curly red hair. I feel like Anne of Green Gables with the amount of ridicule I get for my hair. I’m not an ace student either. Sure, I pass my classes, but just barely. I seem to have a knack for getting into trouble.

Today was supposed to be our chemistry examination. We’d been practicing mixing chemicals and making reactions for the past two months, and the teacher expected us to have the processes down flat. I wasn’t the best at remembering things, but I was sure there was no way I could fail something we’d been doing for so long. Evidently, I was wrong.

I sat in the far back next to the cheerleading queen Tessa Dane. Unfortunately for me, she was my lab partner. Tessa had a reputation for her snooty behavior and her flirtatious attitude towards all the guys. She had blonde hair that was always tied back in a high ponytail with her painfully bright pink bow and flashy rhinestones. Under the fluorescent lighting of the classroom, her jewelry and braces reflected a sickly greenish hue onto the table. Tessa examined her nails and pouted as though sitting in a classroom for five minutes was the most boring thing she’d ever done. She sighed and turned to her friend Kissimmee Culpepper and said in a harsh whisper, “Oh my gosh. If this stupid chem class ruins my manicure, I’m so gonna drop out and write the administration about Mrs. Kennedy.”

Mrs. Kennedy was our chemistry teacher, and she was quite lovely if you didn’t get on her bad side. She was a pretty woman with long, dark hair tied in a bun with a pencil stuck through the center. Her eyes were a dark blue color and they would flash dangerously whenever a student stepped out of line. She wore black reading glasses on top of her head, and she always carried around a wooden clipboard. At the noise of Tessa’s whispering, Mrs. Kennedy peered out from behind her clipboard and gave a disapproving look.

Tessa ignored this. “Ugh, see? She’s such a nosy prick!”

Kissimmee snorted, “No kidding.”

I mumbled under my breath, “Trust me, Tessa. I’m sure this is not the worst thing you’ll ever do.”

“Shut up will you, Brooklyn?! No one asked for your sass!” Tessa snarled. She turned back towards Kissimmee, “Honestly, this class is such a bore. I don’t understand wh-“

“Miss Dane?” Mrs. Kennedy called from the front. “Please refrain from chatting with Miss Culpepper. The exam is about to begin.” At this, Tessa slouched back in her chair and gave her friend one last can-you-believe-this-woman look.

“Now class, we’ve been preparing for this for a while, and I expect you all to do your best. Remember our classroom guidelines and safety procedures and do not speak with other teams during the exam. You may of course work and talk to your lab partner, but if I see any side chatter, you will be pulled from the room and given an immediate detention as well as a zero in the grade book. Do your best, raise your hand if you have any questions, and you may begin!” Mrs. Kennedy grinned approvingly and began to patrol the room with her clipboard in hand.

I did my best to ignore Tessa’s grumbling while I prepared our materials. I scooped up an empty vial and carefully poured in a spoonful of our chemical powder. “Tessa, turn the fire on low will you?” I said quietly, and she turned the heat on the pad to its “low heat” setting. I carefully fastened the vial on a stand over the fire and watched the reaction. I jotted down some notes and went to turn off the heat.

That was when I felt it: a strange rumbling sensation that started up my feet and traveled up my legs and arms. The ground was shaking. I could feel a tremor moving the building and messing my balance. I looked around in shock, but no one else seemed to have noticed it.

“What’s gotten you all big eyed?” Tessa sneered.

“You don’t feel that?” I said in bewilderment.

“Feel what?” she said. “I feel annoyed with you, if that’s what you mean.”

“The earthquake!” I retorted, a little louder than I meant to.

“Miss Hawke!” Miss Kennedy thundered over, her bun bobbing on her head. “Keep your voice down please. We are in the middle of an exam. Please be considerate of your classmates.” Before turning away to help another student she added, “And turn off that heat immediately or I’ll take points off for violating safety rules.”

Tessa scowled at me, “If we fail this exam it’ll be all your fault.”

I bit down my protests, doing my best to ignore the tremors in the ground. I couldn’t be crazy. Surely someone could feel the earthquake.

I flicked the heat pad off and sat down shakily.

Tessa shoved my shoulder and said in my ear, “Stop crying wimp. We have work to do.” She grabbed the chemicals which had turned a teal blue color and added to our notes on the paper.

I looked up and frowned at the calculations she had written. “That’s not right. It should be 24 grams of sodium not 18.”

“I know what I’m doing. Shut up.”

“Tessa, seriously, it’s 24.” I grabbed the pencil and scribble in the corrections.

“Ugh you’re so annoying. I don’t know why I get stuck with you as a lab partner.” She crossed her arms and sniffed. I ignored her and scribbled some more notes on our paper.

The tremors were beginning to die down, and I stared to relax. So maybe I was just dreaming it then. But somehow I knew that what I felt was not just my imagination. I focused on my work again.

It was then that I noticed strange green-colored smoke floating from my fingers. I gasped aloud. The fumes began to curl and spark. I watched in amazement. My hands were sparking. I could feel my panic rising. I looked wildly around, afraid Tessa would notice and tell me off. I closed my hands tightly and shoved them in my pockets.

“What are you hiding in your pockets there, Brooklyn?” Tessa leered. “Got something you wanna share?”

“Shove off, Tessa. I think- I think I just cut myself is all.”

“Awww did you hurt yourself with a pencil?” she sneered, “Mrs. Kennedy? Brooklyn needs a Band-Aid from the nurse.” A few people turned and snickered at me. I could feel the heat in my hands getting hotter, though I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the strange sparks.

Mrs. Kennedy frowned disapprovingly, “Can it wait till after the exam is over, honey?”

“I don’t think so ma’m, it’s bleeding pretty bad.” I said.

“Very well, but please be quick about it.”

I squeezed between the desks towards the door at the back of the classroom. That’s when it all went wrong. I couldn’t stand the pain, and I dared to pull my hand out from my pocket. I opened my palm, and a white hot flame shot sky-high and scorched the ceiling. The fire and the flames disappeared as fast as they had erupted, and my hand stopped smoking. In a daze I ran into the table in front of me and knocked over the contents, spilling chemicals all over the floor and causing more fires and small explosions.

Chaos erupted. Everyone was yelling and screaming. Mrs. Kennedy dropped her clipboard and put the fires out with an extinguisher on the wall. She urged everyone to calm down and ordered them to stay as far back as possible from the mess. She grabbed me by the arm and took me to the door. I was ushered out of the room and brought into the hallway.

“What in heaven’s name has gotten into you, Brooklyn?” she demanded. “I’m shocked at this behavior. What’s going on?”

My lips struggled to form a response as I was still shell-shocked from what had just happened. “I- I… I don’t know ma’am. It all happened so fast… My hands were-” I stopped. I figured it would be crazy to tell her my hands were on fire, and I doubted an adult would believe any of that kind of nonsense coming from a teenager. “My hands were shaky fr- from nerves and I knocked over a table. I guess I wasn’t being careful.”

“No, dear, you were not. I expect better composure from you in future.” Mrs. Kennedy squeezed my shoulder and continued, “Brooklyn, I need you to get your head straight. I don’t know what’s bothering you, and I don’t need to know, but if there’s something you need to tell me please do.”

“I’m not sure there’s much to tell ma’am.” I mumbled.

“Very well,” she let go of my shoulder and gave me a weak smile. “You will serve detention after school helping me clean up, and the rest of the week cleaning every classroom utensil.” She walked past me back into the room.

Could be worse, I thought. You just set a classroom on fire with your own hands, said another part of me. I pondered what I should do. You’ve got nothing to lose if no one finds out. I nodded, more to give myself confidence than anything else, squared my shoulders, and went back to class.