Flight of Life (Essence Series #1) Page 12

  Beatrice met his gaze. “I’ll have a turkey sandwich,” she said quietly.

  Marquan turned to Calloway. “I got this,” he said. “Can you add cheese to that dell?” he said as he nodded to the small refrigerator that housed the meat and perishable produce.

  Calloway nodded, grateful that Marquan intervened before he said something that would have gotten him fired, and grabbed a package of cheddar cheese and placed it inside the refrigerator.

  Marquan finished her sandwich and placed it into the bag then turned to Joe. “Can you ring me, Joe?”

  “Sure,” he said. “What do you have?”

  “A seventeen and a three,” he said as he stepped away. Marquan glared at Hawk for a long moment. “Have a good day,” he said in a deep voice. He tore off his gloves and tossed them in the garbage.

  Hawk paid for their lunch then they walked out the store. Calloway watched them climb into Hawk’s new jeep and drive away. He turned to Marquan. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  Marquan nodded. “You’re a cool guy, Calloway. I got your back. We all have each other’s back here.”

  Calloway sighed. “That’s a relief.”

  Joe clapped him on the shoulder. “I think you handled that well,” he said. “If you can deal with that kid’s attitude, I know you can handle any customer. Keep up the good work.” He walked to the lobby and entered his office.

  Marquan turned to Calloway “What’s that kid’s problem anyway? What’s his beef with you?”

  “It’s a long story,” Calloway said. “Basically, he was harassing a girl and I defended her. He wasn’t too happy about that.”

  “Well, I’m sure the girl appreciated it.”

  Calloway shook his head. “It was the same girl he came in here with.”

  Marquan flashed him a confused expression. “That girl is dumb.”

  Calloway shrugged his shoulders but didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t let it get to you, Cal,” he said. “It says more about him than it does you.”

  “Thanks,” Calloway said.

  “And why does he call you Poverty Boy#2?” he asked. “Who is the first?” He laughed.

  “My cousin.” Calloway smiled. “My family is really poor. He finds that knowledge hilarious for some reason.”

  Marquan shook his head. “I don’t see what the problem is. We actually work for our money—big deal. If anything, that makes us better. I would rather understand the value of a dollar than be a rich brat that has no respect for anyone else.”

  Calloway nodded. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind being rich.”

  Marquan laughed. “That makes two of us.”

  Calloway ripped of his gloves and shoved them into a garbage can. He glanced at the clock and realized his shift was almost over. “Are you in high school, Marquan?”

  “Nah,” he said. “I go to Fresno University. I’m a freshman.”

  “Cool,” Calloway nodded. “I’m applying there. Do you like it?”

  “It’s nice,” he said. “It’s close to home and work so I have no complaints. The professors are good instructors, too.”

  “I hope I get in,” Calloway said.

  “You seem like a smart guy,” Marquan said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Two employees walked into the store, and Calloway introduced himself to the two workers. They walked in the back and clocked in.

  “Yes,” Marquan said happily as he watched the night shift come in. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

  “Do you have any plans?” Calloway asked.

  “I just got to study for my finals,” he said. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m going to the public library to work on college applications.”

  Marquan looked at Calloway’s bike outside the window. “Do you need a lift?” he asked. “It’s cold out there.”

  Calloway shook his head. “I’ll be fine but thanks.”

  “I really don’t mind,” he said. “It’s on my way anyway.”

  Calloway shrugged. “If you don’t mind,” he said.

  Marquan clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course not,” he said. “Now let’s clock out and get out of here. My hair is starting to smell like onions.”

  “What?” Calloway asked.

  Marquan smiled. “You’ll see what I mean.”

  They clocked out and left the store. Calloway placed his bike and backpack into the backseat of the car then Marquan drove him to the public library across town.

  “How long have you worked at Togo’s?” Calloway asked.

  “Since my junior year in high school,” he said. “So I’ve been working there for three years.”

  Calloway nodded. “That’s a long time.”

  “Too long.” Marquan laughed. “But it pays the bills and the owner is pretty awesome.”

  “Yes,” Calloway said. “He hired me even though I had no work experience. He didn’t even interview me.”

  “Joe can read people pretty well,” Marquan said. “He can tell if you’re a good kid or not.”

  Calloway nodded. “That’s good to know.”

  Marquan parked in front of the library. “You know it’s Saturday, right? Why are you doing homework today?”

  “I have a lot of stuff to do during the week.” Calloway sighed. “And I don’t have a computer at home so I have to find other resources.”

  “Well, I’ll see you next time,” he said.

  “Thanks, MQ,” Calloway said as he got out of the car.

  “MQ?” He laughed. “What did you just call me?”

  “I thought it would be a cool nickname.” Calloway laughed. “Marquan is a long name.”

  Marquan nodded. “I like it,” he said with a smile. “I’ll you see you later, Cal.”

  Calloway laughed. “My nickname isn’t as cool as yours.”

  “Yeah. It sounds a bit pretentious.” Marquan laughed. “But I’m going to call you that anyway.”

  “Alright,” Calloway said as he walked away. He waved when he reached the entrance and Marquan drove out of the parking lot and merged with the traffic on the street.

  Calloway walked inside and took a seat at a computer. The library was deserted on this Saturday afternoon. There was an elderly woman sitting at a table, reading Robinson Crusoe, and the secretary at the desk was staring at her computer screen. It was so quiet that when Calloway typed on the keyboard both women looked up at the noise, distracted from their reading.

  Calloway worked on his school applications for a few hours. When he noticed a strong scent, he sniffed the air but couldn’t detect where the odor was coming from. Finally, he sniffed his shirt and realized he was the culprit—he smelled like onions. Calloway laughed to himself and decided he would change his shirt before he left.

  When his eyes started to blur from staring at the computer screen for so long, he walked to the front desk and waited for the librarian to look at him.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Can I use your phone?” he asked.

  She picked up the wireless phone and handed it to Calloway. She stared at him for a moment. “You smell good.”

  Calloway shifted his weight at her unexpected comment. He realized he must smell like sandwiches and onions. “Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “I work at a sandwich shop.”

  She smiled. “Good for you,” she said. “I smell like dusty books all the time.”

  Calloway quickly walked away and dialed Easton’s number on the phone. Librarians were always weird—probably because they were alone all day. After the phone rang a few times, Easton answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Calloway said. “I’m at the public library.”

  “Alright,” she said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting outside.” Calloway ended the call then returned the phone to the librarian. He walked away before she could say anything e
lse. Calloway didn’t want to hear any more comments about how good he smelled.

  Calloway spotted the classic car down the street as it approached the building. She pulled into the parking lot and Calloway moved to the backseat.

  “So how’d your applications go?” she asked.

  Calloway sighed. “It’s a lot of work.”

  “And time,” she said.

  Calloway recognized the real meaning in her comment. “Are you applying to college?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she answered. “I already did.”

  “But I thought you said it was a waste of time,” Calloway said.

  “It is—for you,” she said. “I finished my applications in a day and before we became Hara-Kir hunters.”

  “I knew it!” Breccan yelled. “We are Hara-Kir hunters!”

  Easton rolled her eyes. “We’re going to Weston’s,” she said.

  “Did you make any progress today?” Calloway asked.

  Easton stopped at the stoplight then turned right onto the residential street. “We translated a few pages but not more than that.”

  “I helped,” Breccan said.

  Easton sighed. “Yes, Breccan helped me eat my lunch.”

  Calloway laughed. “That was productive.”

  “She’s lying,” he said. “I don’t eat all the time.”

  “It seems that way,” Easton said as she parked her car against the curb.

  “I like food,” Breccan yelled. “What’s the big deal?”

  “You like it too much,” Easton said as she grabbed her bag from the trunk and closed it. They walked up the driveway to the house hidden in the back, behind the mansion in the front yard, and knocked on the door.

  “I’m not fat,” Breccan said quietly.

  Easton laughed. “I never said you were. You just like food.”

  “More than anything,” Calloway added. “That’s why Aunt Grace and Uncle Scott are tight on money—they have to feed you.”

  Breccan rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “I don’t care.”

  Weston opened the door. “Back already?” she asked.

  “I just had to pick up Calloway,” Easton said as she walked inside. The two boys followed behind her. Breccan immediately fell silent now that Weston was in the room. Calloway felt himself staring at her.

  Weston’s brown hair curled around her face and highlighted the angle of her cheekbones. Her smile lit up the room like Calloway’s glowing orb did when he squeezed it, and her upbeat personality was immediately infectious. Calloway couldn’t help but he happy when she was in the room.

  “What are you guys doing?” she asked.

  “Homework,” Easton said quickly.

  Weston raised an eyebrow. “On a Saturday?”

  “We’re good students,” Easton said as she walked to the basement entrance. “We don’t wait until the last minute to study for our exams.”

  “Well, I get nearly a perfect score on every test,” she said. “What does that say about me?”

  “That you’re arrogant.” Easton smiled.

  Weston rolled her eyes. “If I’m a genius, then so are you,” she said. “And believe me, high school is a waste of time. It’s a useless investment of our tax dollars.”

  “That’s the arrogance talking again,” Easton said as she climbed down the stairs.

  Weston laughed and returned to the couch where an open copy of the Count of Monte Cristo was placed next to her. She started to read it again, and Calloway stared at her for a moment before he walked down the ladder to the basement.

  They sat at their usual places at the table, and Easton pulled the Kirin Book from her backpack and placed it on the surface. She opened the book to the page she was decoding and looked at the letters.

  “What did you learn today?” Calloway asked.

  Breccan leaned back in his chair. “The book rambles on about the essence and something to do with purpose—something like that.”

  Easton shook her head. “It says that a person’s essence is their purpose, or what we know as the soul, and without it they have no purpose to live or move forward.”

  “And?” Calloway asked.

  “That’s it,” she said. “But now I understand why the Hara-Kirs are harvesting it. If they take away the purpose of the humans, then they are closer to reaching the void. Humans have no interest in continuing a meaningless existence.”

  “How do they take it?” Calloway asked. “None of the Hara-Kirs we’ve encountered have tried—at least that I know of.”

  Easton shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. “I don’t know if it’s by force or they sneak it away. I’m assuming the chapter will answer those questions.”

  “I hope so,” Breccan asked. He ran his hands through his hair and met Calloway’s gaze. “You know what I’ve noticed?”

  “What?” Calloway asked.

  “The Hara-Kirs never tried to hurt you—not once.”

  “What are you talking about?” Easton asked.

  “When the Hara-Kir was chasing me around the library, Calloway kept intervening but it wouldn’t pursue him. Even when Calloway stabbed the Hara-Kir it still didn’t try to kill him—it only wanted me.”

  “What are you saying?” Calloway asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It’s just something I noticed.”

  Calloway nodded. He remembered his first encounter with the Hara-Kir in the Grandiose Historian Library and how he managed to get away even though the creature was stronger and faster than he was. He assumed the Hara-Kir didn’t want to injure the book but now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t notice it before. And I don’t see the purpose in sparing me unless they want to keep me alive because I have the Kirin Book.”

  Easton nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “They have no issue killing us but they will never find the book if they execute you. They probably intend to torture you for the information.”

  “And if that happens, I’ll never give it,” Calloway said.

  “I expected nothing less,” Easton said. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Calloway nodded. “I think they keep returning to the library because they suspect I’ll return with the book.”

  Breccan shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Why would you come back?”

  “I don’t know,” Easton said. “But I can’t think of any other reason why the Hara-Kirs are always there.”

  Calloway was wondering the same thing. The Hara-Kirs were always in the library and he suspected it wasn’t a coincidence. “I don’t think they’re looking for me,” he said. “I think they are there for another reason.”

  “But why?” Breccan asked. “Why are they always at the Grandiose Historian Library?”

  Calloway sighed. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”

  Fitting In

  The sound of movement upstairs made Calloway sit upright in his chair. There were dozens of feet thumping against the floor and Calloway knew Weston had company over.

  Easton sighed and put the Kirin Book in her backpack. “She could have told me she was having people over.” She zipped up her backpack and placed it on the table. “Weston is probably having a party.”

  “Does she do that a lot?” Breccan asked.

  Easton shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What do you mean you guess?” Breccan said.

  “Well, I don’t live here,” she snapped. “And I don’t spy on my sister.”

  Calloway rolled his eyes. “Should we leave?” he asked. “I’m exhausted from the long day. This can wait for another time.”

  “They’ll probably come downstairs,” she said. “The music can’t be heard when it’s played in the basement.”

  The door opened and Weston walked down the ladder with people following behind her. She walked to the stereo and turned on the radio, playing an electronic indie song. Against Calloway’s
will, he started to dance in his seat until he saw Easton glare at him.

  “I’m having a get-together,” Weston said. “Stay or go—I don’t really care.”

  Easton sighed. “Let’s go.”

  “We don’t want to be rude,” Breccan said quickly. “Your sister invited us to her party—I think we should stay.”

  “She didn’t invite us,” Easton said. “She said our existence makes no difference to her—not the same thing.”

  “I’ve never been to a college party before,” Breccan said over the loud music. “Come on.” He turned to Calloway and saw him shake his shoulders to the music. “Calloway wants to stay.” Calloway stopped moving at the sound of his name.

  “Fine,” Easton said. “But you aren’t going to know anyone. And I doubt college freshman want to hang out with high school kids.”

  “Let’s find out,” Breccan said as he stood from his chair.

  Weston was talking to a guy in the corner of the room and he was laughing at her words, clearly pleased by her company. Weston was smiling at him as she continued to speak. Breccan walked over to her and Calloway followed behind him. Reluctantly, Easton trailed behind with her arms across her chest.

  “Hey,” Breccan said to Weston. “Cool party.”

  Weston nodded at him but Calloway was certain she didn’t hear a word he said. “Breccan, this is my friend Scott.” Breccan nodded to him as they shook hands. “And this is Calloway,” she said.

  “What about me?” Easton said.

  Weston rolled her eyes. “And this is my little sister,” she said.

  Easton shook his hand then glared at Weston. “I’m only a year younger than you—I’m not your baby sister.”

  Weston took a drink of her cup. “Whatever,” she said as she walked away.

  Scott watched her walk away with a saddened expression, clearly disappointed that his time with Weston was over. He turned to the three of them. “So, are you freshman, too?” he asked.

  “We’re seniors,” Breccan answered.

  Scott raised an eyebrow.

  “In high school,” Calloway added.