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I twirled around in the field and fell down, pulling Dusty down with me. Dusty was my best friend, and the only person (let alone guy) I ever wanted to be with. He laughed and rolled around so he could look up at the clouds with me.
“What is it, Missy?” he asked me, pointing at a cloud. It was our favorite game. We called it Point-At-A-Cloud-And-Guess-What-It-Is. So creative, right? I know, it seems immature for us, a couple of sixteen year olds, to be playing games like five year olds. But it was fun.
“Mmm…snow flakes,” I replied. It did look like snow flakes. Really. Honest. I’m not lying.
My answer may seem weird to you. It typically does seem weird to everyone, except Dusty. I am a weird person. And by “weird,” I mean “actually intelligent and understands and uses sarcasm often.” Or at least, that’s how Dusty describes me.
Dusty looked at me with this look that said “You’re kidding me.” After all, it was the middle of spring. Snow flakes aren’t exactly common in the middle of spring, you know.
I ignored the look and stood up and stuck out my hand to help him up. But instead of taking it, he rolled away from me and down a hill. I chased him, laughing, and he stood up to run, looking over his shoulder to see if I was following.
“Dusty, what are you doing?” I called, still laughing. He just ran faster. I continued to chase him, but I was getting a little worried. He had gone into the woods, and I didn’t know where we were anymore. And then, as if he knew it would make things worse, as I chased him around a particularly big tree, he disappeared from sight.
“Dusty?” I called, even more worried. “Dusty, this isn’t funny. Come on, let’s go back. Dusty!” I hate being lost almost more than anything else. It’s just that feeling of helplessness that gets to me.
“Missy!” Dusty sing-songed. “Come and get me!” So it was a tag game, was it?
“Dusty, where’d you go?” I called.
“I’m over here!” he called.
I saw a flash of brown hair and blue jeans at the corner of my vision, and I turned around, expecting Dusty to be standing there with his wide smile that always reached his beautiful eyes plastered all over his face. But when I whirled around, hitting myself with my ponytail, there was no one their. I heard a whistling sound somewhere above me, and I looked up. And that is quite possibly the most stupid thing I could have done at that moment. I should have run, or done something to get out of the way. That’s typically a good thing to do if you hear a strange noise above your head.
A sack dropped over my head and I screeched, trying to pull it off. I pulled it off part of the way, enough to see a pair of jeans and a shirt. But something hit my head before I could get it completely off, and I went unconscious, falling and landing on the forest floor to the sound of laughter. I realized then that something was up and it involved Dusty.
When I came around, I found myself on the dirty floor of a rusty, old cage that was hanging above the floor of the forest. I tried calling for Dusty, but I couldn’t make a sound come out of my mouth. This is, apparently, what happens when you’ve been unconscious for a long time. My head hurt ferociously when I moved any part of me, so I just lay back down and went into a deep sleep for a while.
“Missy!” someone called. I jolted awake, making myself dizzy and my head hurt even more. The cage tottered, threatening to fall if I made any sudden movement, and I almost screamed.
“Yeah?” I called down cautiously.
“Are you okay?” I recognized the voice as Dusty’s, and I moved to the side of my cage carefully.
“I’d be better if I weren’t perched up here in this rusty death trap that could fall at any moment,” I told him. “And my head hurts, and I’m really dizzy and hungry. But yes, I’m just peachy, thanks for asking.”
“Cut the sarcasm, please, I don’t have time for this. Are you okay?” he asked me again. The normal Dusty would have played along and then let me down out of this cage. But this new Dusty wouldn’t even listen to my amusing sarcasm.
“I already told you, Dusty. Listen when I talk. Now will you please let me down out of here?” I asked him.
“Only if you swear to do everything I say. They told me I couldn’t let you down unless you do,” he explained. I wondered who exactly ‘they’ were, but I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t get the chance.
Because then the cage fell.
And then I hit the ground. No, I didn’t just hit the ground. I hit the ground, and a whole bunch of metal hit me. Can we say ouch? I was pretty sure pieces of metal impaled my arms and legs, but thankfully, I was in shock and didn’t feel it, and it didn’t seem like any of my bones were broken. I couldn’t feel anything at that moment. But that wasn’t even the worst part of the entire experience. The worst part was that Dusty didn’t even say anything. No words of sympathy, no exclamations, nothing. He just looked at me, like he expected that to happen.
I passed out. When I woke up again, I was being carried, potato-sack style, by Dusty into the middle of some form of gypsy camp-like thing. A path had been cleared there a while ago. The camp looked like it was somewhat permanent, like it was all settled in, but could be packed up and moved on a moment’s notice.
I started banging my arms on Dusty’s back and kicking. What was I supposed to do? Let him carry me into camp and do whatever it was he was planning on doing? I think not. I would make a scene and get help. Or at least, that’s what I thought I’d do.
“Put me down, Dusty!” I screamed. So what did he do? He dumped me on the ground. I guess I asked for that, but still. It wasn't pleasant. I landed in a heap, dazed, on the dusty ground.
“Dusty, dear, don’t do that to the poor girl,” an elderly woman scolded as she came over to me and started to help me up.
“Don’t!” Dusty barked. He looked at the old lady for a long time before she nodded and backed away from me. I looked at him. And then I stood up and brushed myself off- and I ran. I tried running to the edge of the camp, but Dusty managed to catch up to me first.
“Dusty, stop!” I screeched, pulling away and running again. He didn’t say anything, but he caught my arm and swung me around, pulling me to the ground again.
He grabbed hold of my hair, which was in a ponytail, and dragged me by it into a tent that was set up at what I guessed was the head of the camp. I screamed, of course. What was he, a caveman? Since when does anyone drag people anywhere by their hair?
When we were inside the tent, Dusty picked me up and sat me in a chair. I found it strange that no one had tried to help me when I screamed, but I didn’t say anything about it.
“What was that, Dusty? What’s going on?” I asked him coldly. He ignored me and started pacing around the tent.
“Fine, don’t talk to me. I’ll find someone else who will answer my questions,” I told him. I stood up and started to leave the tent, but Dusty swung me around and sat me back down.
“What the heck? Am I not allowed to leave?” I asked him.
“No. Sit. Stay. Shush.” Ooh, one word answers from Silent Dusty. Oh well, at least it was something. So I sat, against my better judgment, and waited, just like Dusty had said to.
Eventually a man came in and stood at the front of the tent. Dusty stood up, and I got the feeling that I should have stood up too, but I could hardly move. Besides, it’s not like I had any respect for anyone in this camp at this point.
“Dusty,” the man said in a deep voice, nodding to him.
“Commander,” Dusty replied, also nodding. They looked like a couple of bobble-heads, just standing there, nodding at each other.
“I see you’ve brought her. What’s her name again?” the man asked.
“Her name is Missy,” I told him. “And she is sitting right here. She would not like to be spoken about as if she wasn’t here.” The man, who was the Commander of something, apparently, looked over me slowly.
“She’s certainly got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” he asked Dusty, continuing to discuss me as though I wasn’t there.
“Oh yes. That’s my Missy. Commander, sir, may I ask you something?” Dusty replied.
“Yes, Dusty. What is it?” the Commander answered.
“Why exactly did you make me bring her here? Why Missy?” Dusty asked. I got the feeling that he knew something that I didn’t, like he was only asking this to be sure of something.
“Well, Dusty, I had you bring her here to complete your training. I believe you are ready to take your place in the Revolution,” the Commander replied. He spoke like he was talking to a son of his, even though he hardly looked thirty years old, and Dusty was sixteen.
“You mean…” Dusty asked, his eye sparkling. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread or some combination of both. And what was this Revolution?
“Yes. You shall finish your training in a week and…well, as for Missy here, we’ll make sure she enjoys every last minute of her time here, as it will be her last time she ever enjoys such things in this lifetime.”
“I have a week to prepare, right, sir?” Dusty asked. I couldn’t believe it. He was actually excited about this. He was excited about killing me. My jaw dropped and I stared at him until he noticed me. And when he did notice me, he grinned. I noticed that his teeth were pointier than they were before, like they had been filed. It made him look…evil.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I asked him.
“No, darling, I’m not,” Dusty replied. Something in my expression must have gotten to him, because his tone was softer and he seemed almost a tiny bit sorry. Almost.
“Gerta!” the Commander person called. “Take our guest to the guest tent!” The same old lady from before came scurrying in and helped me up from my chair.
“Here, dear, you come with me. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? And you have questions? Ah, well, let’s go to my tent and I’ll see what I can do about that,” Gerta said. She bustled me out of the tent and into another. Kids and adults alike stopped and stared at me as we passed them on the dusty path thing.
“There we go,” she said. “First things first. I’m Gerta, who are you?” She moved around the tent, picking things out of bags and putting them in a small pot on the ground.
“I’m Missy. What am I doing here?” I asked her. I watched as she moved her finger around the rim of the pot several times and then dished some sort of liquid out of it into a bowl.
“Here you are, Missy. Drink this, you’ll feel better. Now, as for your questions…” Gerta explained everything to me as I drank the hot broth. At first, I was confused. There was no fire, there was nothing to heat it up or mix it with, but the soupy liquid I was drinking was warm and delicious. But Gerta explained as much as she dared tell me.
Apparently, this camp was known as the Revolution. They lived like gypsies. The idea was that if anyone who wasn’t supposed to find them wandered in, they would just look like a band of traveling gypsies. But really, the Revolution was all about bringing down the current order of things. Every member of the Revolution learned to kill while smiling, and every member pulled his or her own weight. They were teachers or cooks, laborers or supply-gathering type people. Anything that was handy. Children were rare, but they were there. In addition to that, every single member had some sort of power. When Gerta was explaining this part to me, Dusty came in and sat down by me and listened. I turned away from him slightly.
“Gerta, don’t leave anything out. You’re forgetting some things,” he admonished. “Each member only has one special power. For example, one might be able to influence someone’s thoughts, one might be able to change a person’s mood, or one might be able to cook anything without any ingredients, such as is the case with Gerta here.
“There’s a darker side to all this, too. One might be able to make someone bend to his or her will simply by looking at them. Or perhaps one could cause a person pain in every part of his or her body just by thinking of them. There are all manners of powers to be used, and everyone, and I mean everyone, in this Revolution has one,” Dusty explained. He meant to scare me, meant to make me think that he had one of the bad powers. It almost worked, but I still saw my Dusty, the one who loved and cared about me, in him before I got too scared. Still, I was a tad bit scared.
Gerta continued to explain, with minor outbursts from Dusty, that in order to complete training, a person who was joining the Revolution would have to kidnap a person who meant a lot to them and kill them or something else. Gerta wouldn’t say what else, because it was a very rare occurrence or something like that, and she didn’t want to get my hopes up. Anyway, they would have to have full control of their power, and they would have to be able to do it without flinching or feeling any remorse or sorrow for what they had to do.
“But it’s a great honor to be kidnapped, my dear. You should be excited for Dusty here. He’s chosen you out of everyone he could have chosen. His family, other friends, anyone. He chose you. And now you get to help the Revolution with their cause by allowing Dusty to complete his training.
“You see, Dusty here was discovered on accident by the Commander himself. He sensed Dusty’s hidden power on a trip to the city and brought him here to see what we were doing. When he heard about what and who we are, Dusty knew he wanted to be a part of this. He came diligently every day after or even during school, and every day during this spring break you kids get. Dusty will be one of our best members,” Gerta said.
I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to be happy about everything that was happening. I was supposed to be happy to die? I didn’t even know what exactly the Revolution was doing. How exactly is that supposed to work? I asked Gerta what they did, or were going to do, or whatever, and she looked like she didn’t want to respond. So Dusty stepped up and explained it to me.
“Well, Missy, the Revolution is here to take down the current order of things, like Gerta told you. That means that they’ll do anything to destroy the government. Killing, spying, whatever they can. Why am I saying they? I should be saying we. After all, in a week, I’ll be a member, too,” Dusty grinned wickedly at the thought.
“But anyway, we are trying to change everything. Those people who have hidden powers like I did would be trained, and those who didn’t would be trained to serve those of us who do have them.That’s what we’re doing,” he finished.
“What power do you have?” I asked him. I had to know what I was fighting. Oh, I planned on fighting until the very end to get my Dusty back. Yeah, it was selfish, but I couldn’t let this go on. Innocent people would keep dying, and then if this Revolution managed to succeed, even more innocent people would be forced into serving. Plus, you know, I didn’t want to die. I had a full life ahead of me, and I had things I wanted to do. And having my best friend kill me was not one of those things.
“Me? I have the power to influence your mind. I could make you do what I want, I could change your mood, I could play with your emotions, I could change your thoughts, and I could force you to do anything just by fiddling with your mind,” Dusty said. “But I don’t plan on doing any of that in a week, so you won’t have to worry about that. I can refrain from doing that, for you. It will be a fair fight.”
Fair wasn’t the word I was thinking. But knowing what Dusty was now made me proud. I was strangely happy that my friend had such power. I know, it’s weird. But I couldn’t help it, since he was, after all, my best friend.
“And now I have to go speak to the Commander and find out what will happen. I shall see you in a week, Missy,” Dusty said. He got up and walked out of the tent without a backwards glance. I felt completely numb, inside and out. The broth must have worked on the outside, dulling all the pain from my fall, but Dusty had taken care of inside.
Gerta sighed as Dusty left.
“Just because The Commander himself found him and he’s one of the best we’ve ever had, this boy thinks he’s on top of the world,” Gerta said, shaking her head. “You remember him telling me not to help you, right? Well, obviously, you saw him look at me for the longest time. That was telepathy. Dusty can do that, it comes with the mind powers that he has. Anyway, he basically told me that he’s better than me, and he’ll do anything if he has to. He’s a good boy, as I’m sure you know. But he’s too self-important. He’s too…well, he thinks he’s invincible, but he’s not. I only hope he’s strong enough to survive this…” she trailed off, turning around.
“Oh, Missy,” Gerta said, seeing my face. She pulled me into a hug and I pressed my face against her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, darling. You’ll see just what an honor this is soon,” she would tell me. “Just drink this and wash out that laundry there and you’ll calm right down, now, here you go, dear.”
She was always telling me to keep busy so I’d feel better the whole time I was with her. And busy I was. I did laundry, I swept out her tent, and I cooked and cleaned as much as I could. Anything to take my mind off of what was coming. Not that it worked, of course. If I had been back home, I could have lost myself in a book or something. But I wasn’t. So I couldn’t, obviously.
Gerta told me that I should change, so I looked presentable. I scoffed inside my head. Presentable? For what? To die? I think not. But I followed Gerta to an old trunk and let her pick out a loose blue shirt and a skirt for me. When she left the tent so I could slip them on, I found an old pair of shorts and put them on under the skirt. I planned on fighting until I either won or died. And if I had to fight to live, I’d prefer to do it so no one could see my underwear, thanks.
I spent the first half of the entire day brooding over what was happening. Never had I ever thought that I would end up in a place like this, preparing to die at the hands of Dusty. As I sat there, folding laundry I would never see again, I thought of my mother and what she would say to all this. She practically worshiped Dusty, since he was the only friend I had that my mom knew of. I imagined her reaction to me being here and smiled grimly.
“Something wrong, dear? You look a tad bit constipated,” Gerta called. I grimaced. Constipated?
“No, Gerta. Just thinking of my mom and what she’d say to this,” I said. And whether I’ll be able to live through the end of the week, I thought. But I couldn’t say that out loud. It’d only get me scolded again for not putting the good of everyone else ahead of my needs. But you know what? I’d always put other people before me, and when it came to my life, I’d prefer to put my needs in front of other things.
And so I came up with a plan. I found several things around the tent when Gerta was away, and I put them in a little bag and tied it around my waist, making sure it was hidden by my shirt.
By the third day, I was feeling as good as I had before that cage fell. I could move without any pain, and I was hardly sore anymore. Gerta told me I was ready for whatever would happen. I got the feeling that she already knew what would happen, since she’d had to go through it before. I tried prying some information out of her, but Gerta wouldn’t spill any information. She said I’d have to become a member of the Revolution in order to learn anything. But that wasn’t going to happen, so I didn’t learn anything other than what she’d already told me.
She did tell me a tiny bit about what would happen in the “Training Grounds,” though. The final tests of the trainees were rarely watched by anyone other than the Commander, the trainee, and the trainer (or trainers). It was just ever so nice to know that my death would be private.
At the end of the week, two big (I mean huge) men came and spoke briefly to Gerta, who came back and told me, rather excitedly, that “it’s time!” I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone was so happy that it was time for me to die.
The two men, who I nicknamed the Burly Men, grabbed my arms and started dragging me down that same dusty path that I had come into the camp by. As we passed by the Commander’s tent, I saw Dusty being handed a gun by the Commander.
I let the two Burly Men drag me a ways down that dusty path-like thing for a few minutes before I straightened up and started walking on my own, pulling my arms out of their grasp.
“I’m fully capable of walking on my own, thank you very much,” I said. “Don’t worry; I’m not going anywhere else.”
I know, I should have run from them right then. I could have made it out of that camp if I had tried. But I didn’t. I had a plan. And I had no doubt that my plan would work, too. False confidences, I suppose. I was too assured of myself. And so I didn’t run, even when I knew I should have.
I let them steer me down to that field thing (I assume it was a field of some kind, you know, because of the really tall grass that stretches on forever, but this Commander person firmly denied it. It was “The Training Grounds.” Yeah). I was deep in thought at that point. I had been thinking about what I would need to do in order to live, or what would happen if I didn’t have the backbone to do it.
The Burly Men let go of my arms and were suddenly at the other end of the field, sorry, the “Training Grounds,” standing by the Commander person, leaving me very confused and alone. I had no idea people could move like that. I wondered if it was something special for the two of them, or if everyone could do it. I didn’t know if Dusty could do that, or if he would use it against me. Spiffy for me, huh?
Anyway, they let go and were over by the Commander, and then Dusty appeared in front of me.
“Hello Missy. What brings you here on this fine day?” he asked. Fine day? Excuse me? What exactly was so fine about it?
“Oh, I don’t know, Burly and Biggy over there,” I replied, nodding towards the Burly Men. I grabbed my bag, which was in plain sight, and looked around in it.
“So I see you’ve met them, then? Good, good. They were most excellent trainers for me. Now, shall we get on to business?” Dusty said.
“That depends on what this business is,” I told him, inching backwards. But I had barely gotten back a step before he tackled me. Now, for a sixteen year old guy, Dusty isn’t huge. He doesn’t have a lot of muscle. But he’s fast, and he’s stronger than he looks so when he tackled me, it hit hard.
I landed hard in the grass with Dusty’s full weight on top of me, but before I could blink, he was off of me and standing by my head, leering at me. I tried to propel myself forward, but he was standing on my hair. Lucky for me, I had gotten what I needed out of my bag to put my plan in action. I pulled the small knife out of the bag, but kept it hidden from him. No need to show Dusty my intentions just yet.
“Oopsies,” he said.
“I thought you were only supposed to have one magical power or whatever,” I grumbled at him.
“Oh, did I forget to mention the speed thing? Sorry, how careless of me,” he replied. I tried to pull myself up again, and he let go of my hair. He turned me around by my shoulders and slapped me, trying to put me off balance, but I was able to retaliate this time. So I kicked him. In a certain spot. I’m sure you can imagine where. And I pulled the knife out.
I took advantage of his temporary weakness to move so I had a slight advantage, however slim that advantage might be. I put the knife on the side of his neck while he was bent over. It was pressed firmly there, but not hard enough to draw blood. But I saw him draw that gun, and I knew it wouldn’t do any good to try to hide or use that knife.
So I stood behind him, holding the knife, praying that he wouldn’t shoot. Asking him to stop wouldn’t do any good; this Revolution thing had turned my Dusty into a monster-like thing. He was beyond my help, or at least, he was as far as I could tell.
“Missy, you know I hate to do this…but it’s best for the Revolution,” Dusty said. He turned around and knocked me off my feet with the gun, sending me and my knife flying into the grass. In return, I had nicked him with the knife, and his chin was bleeding. I felt a small stab of satisfaction at that.
“I can’t finish my training until I do. You know how important this is to me, right? You wouldn’t want me to not finish this, right?” he said. He was using my own emotions against me. He had promised that it would be a fair fight (not that it would have been fair, since he was obviously stronger and faster than me), but I hadn’t. I could fight dirty. And Dusty realized that. So he had decided to fight dirty too.
I turned and ran, scattering the contents of my bag in the process. After seeing Dusty getting that gun, I couldn’t exactly use any of them. They were just little things I had hoped to use anyway, it’s not like they could have done any real damage. They were just time-wasters.
Dusty laughed at me. I heard him behind me, using that super-speed thing he had. He caught my wrist, but I pulled away from him and ran to the woods at the edge of the field. When I was at the very edge, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. Dusty was standing in the middle of the field, looking at me with this look on his face. That look nearly killed me inside. He looked so sad, and so furious at the same time. I took a step towards him, against my will. I took another, and another, and another, until I was standing back in front of Dusty.
I glared at him with such hatred that anyone else would have melted on the spot. How dare he? How dare he invade my mind and force me to go stand back in front of him and wait to die? I spat in his face, and he laughed.
“Now, Dusty,” the Commander called from across the field. “We don’t have all day, and we certainly wouldn’t want our guest here to be waiting too long.”
Oh, but Dusty wanted to wait. He looked at me for what seemed like a long time, although I’m sure it wasn’t that long.
“You always were a pretty little girl,” he said, grinning with those pointed little teeth of his. “Pity you can’t share that beauty with the world. But what has to be done has to be done.” I glared at him again.
“Now, now, Missy dear, don’t be so mean. I do believe you’re the first one to actually fight back,” he told me. “Certainly a feisty little one, aren’t you?” Little? Excuse me?
“Um, Dusty, you do realize that I’m at least as tall as you are, if not taller, right?” I said.
“Oh really?” He stepped up to me and I saw that he was indeed taller than me. I stepped back.
“So what happened to this being a fair fight?” I asked him, changing the subject. He backhanded me and I fell in the grass again.
“Don’t you talk back to me,” he said calmly, fingering the gun. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Not the best time to start crying. I stood up and rubbed my cheek for a moment.
“I’m not talking back,” I said.
“You think not, eh? What was that, then?” he asked me.
“That was me asking a question, darling. Now was it really necessary to smack me like that?” I don’t know how I managed to sound so calm. Inside, I was freaking out, because I didn’t know how to deal. My face and back and arms hurt and I was confused. And, you know, I didn’t want to die. I wondered if Dusty knew that I was freaking out.
“Yes it was. Everyone, including you, needs to be taught their proper place,” Dusty said.
“Oh yes, because we’re so obviously small and worthless compared to you,” I said. Dusty stepped closer and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You have no idea,” he said, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. When he stepped away, I sank to my knees. It wasn’t so much what he said to me that made me fall, but more the way he said it.
I raised my eyes and looked up at him square in his beautiful green-blue flecked eyes. Any normal guy would have dropped the gun and looked away, but not Dusty. I was dealing with an abnormal guy here. And I couldn’t win (which comes as a shock to everyone, I know, including me). I saw recognition in his face. He knew that I wouldn’t fight more. I crossed my arms and grinned at him. I hoped to throw him off, but if I couldn’t…well, might as well welcome death with a smile on my face. In response, he stared back at me, grinned back, no doubt thinking I was doing it to help him, and raised the gun…
“Missy! Réveillez cet instant et prêtez l'attention!” I snapped back to reality with a jolt to find my French teacher standing over (if you could call it over, I mean, she was hardly even four feet tall) my desk with a stern expression on her face.
“I will not have you sleeping or daydreaming or getting up to any other tricks in my classroom! See me after class!” I groaned and let my head fall back onto the desk. When the bell rang, I stayed in my seat by the door and let Mme. Llaster begin to yell at me. But as I let my mind wander, I looked out the window, and jumped as I saw Dusty staring in at me. He had an indescribable look on his face, like he knew something no one else did and that knowledge meant something. I saw a little scar on his chin there- in the exact place where I had nicked him with that knife! When he saw me looking at him, he rubbed at his chin, showing me that the scar was actually real, winked and left, leaving me completely baffled. Had it all really happened? Or was it really just my imagination? And if it had happened…what would happen next?
THE END
--Miss Boo
