“Kallie, can you hear me?”
“What happened?” Someone’s hand lifts my head.
“There you are. You had me worried for a second.”
I fight open heavy eyelids in an effort to focus on the familiar voice. “The last thing I remember…I—”
The voice continues, “Thankfully, there doesn’t appear to be any injuries. Just a case of pushing yourself too hard on that final 400 meters.”
“Four hundred meters?” I blink away the fog and realize a crowd has huddled over top of me. I recognize the jerseys—Kempner High. Eventually, I focus on the face nearest me. “Coach Turon?” The word coach sounds funny as it leaves my lips.
Turon raises a brow. “Um, it’s Coach Castillo, Kallie. Do you know where you are?” He glances at the girls on either side of him.
I feel the spongy surface of the track beneath me, see the concerned looks on my friends’ faces. Castillo’s name is immediately familiar. What had I just called him? “Of course I know where I am.” I shake off my mental fog. “First period athletics.” I sit up. “Uh, about that, do you mind if I head in early today?” Beyond the huddle of sweaty girls, I gather in the familiar surroundings of my high school campus and its track and field complex.
Coach Castillo nods and says, “Heather, can you give me a hand?”
My best friend ushers the other girls back before kneeling at my side. Heather and Coach haul me up and stabilize me between them.
“The rest of you get back at it,” Coach resumes his stern voice. “Distance and field events, give me four more laps. Sprinters hit four more 100’s.”
A few girls moan, but everyone obeys. After Heather, Coach, and I begin shuffling toward the field house, I become aware of a cool breeze rustling my wet jersey against my hot skin.
“You know, this breeze could do you some good.” Coach nods toward the stands, “Why don’t we set you in the stands until the end of practice?”
“Yeah, okay,” I say.
“Hey, anywhere’s fine as long as I don’t have to haul your fat butt all around campus,” Heather grunts.
“Fat butt? Look who’s talking.”
“I wish,” she shakes her head. “I don’t even have enough junk in my trunk for a weekend getaway to New Orleans.”
“Ladies, spare me, please.”
“Right.”
“Sorry, Coach.” Heather and I exchange a smirk.
The process of climbing the stands is a bit awkward, but by the time we reach the main walkway my legs feel less like jello and more like flesh and bone.
“Here you go,” Coach directs me onto the metal bench. “Heather, could you grab Kallie some water?”
“Sure thing, Coach.” Heather jogs down the steps and toward the gate leading onto the track.
Coach Castillo sits down a safe distance away. It looks like he’s about to say something when instead he grabs both sides of his head and squeezes his eyes shut. His face spasms for a few seconds. Then he opens his eyes and looks directly into mine. “Ms. Bluehair, nice to see you up and walking about.”
The strange name jolts me like a hornet sting. Castillo reaches across and touches my arm with a cold hand. A series of images flash through my mind. Colliding with each other, they jumble two separate lives into one. I see my mother’s face, then my brother’s. One second I’m flying, the next I’m falling.
I jerk my arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry,” Castillo expands his chest, “I meant no harm.” Something has changed about his mannerisms.
I remain partially lost to the stands and the track and the wispy clouds rushing by overhead. I imagine I see a dense forest surrounding the complex. I hear the calls of tropical birds.
A tingle radiates down my right arm, and the man sitting next to me suddenly seems a stranger…or an enemy. “Who—” a tremor rocks my body. “Who are you?” My breathing grows rapid and shallow. “What did you do to me?”
“This may sound strange, Ms. Bluehair, but I’m here to help you find yourself.”
I turn my head at the sound of feet climbing the metal stadium stairs. I recognize Heather immediately, but it takes a moment to remember who she is. I try to smile normally. I’m no longer sure what normal for me is.
She hands me the water. “You gonna be okay? Cause’ I can sit here with you. You know, if you’re worried about falling out of the stands or something.” She raises a brow.
Castillo says, “And get out of the rest of practice? I don’t think so, missy. You’ve had enough of a break already. Besides, I’m still trying to convince Calli to try the high jump.” Castillo flicks his hand. “Off with ya’.”
Heather shakes her head and mumbles as she leaves, “High jump? Everyone knows mestizo girls can’t jump.”
Mestizo. I roll the word around in my head. That’s what I am, right?
Castillo, or the man I had thought to be Coach Castillo, looks at me. “Incase you were wondering, the term mestizo applies to you in this universe only. In the other you are known simply as—”
“Nahua,” without thinking I finish Turon’s sentence for him. “Wait. This universe? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Language, Ms. Bluehair.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Indeed, now you are asking the right question,” he nods. “In the limited time available to us, it is critical you understand exactly what I’m talking about.” Castillo’s voice assumes a whole different affect.
“You’re not my coach, are you?”
“The man you know as Coach Castillo is still here, but you are correct. The awareness speaking to you currently is not your coach. Technically, I am your combat instructor, Turon.”
“Combat?” I chew the inside of my cheek. Weirdly, there’s no scar tissue there. What had sounded ridiculous at first, now seems oddly appropriate. “No, all of this is crazy. I must have hit my head or something. Maybe I’ve got a tumor.”
“This body?” Turon shakes his head. “I assure you, Ms. Bluehair, this body of yours is tumor free. In New Teo, it would not surprise me. As you know, tumors are a common symptom of the twitch.” Turon glances over his shoulder. “In this universe, there is no twitch.”
“Stop.” I press fingers to my temples. “Whoever you are, just stop talking.”
“I’m afraid that is not an option. I’ve spent the last three months locating your doppelgänger in this universe and helping Castillo secure his current station. It was not an easy task while maintaining my presence as an instructor at Masa Academy. Considering our remaining time frame, my urgency is quite understandable.”
I grab hold of the only thing that seems solid. “Masa Academy, I think I know what that is.”
“Yes?”
I rack my brain. “It seems like I’ve been there. It’s a, it’s a school.”
Turon sighs, “Obviously, but for what, Ms. Bluehair?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I run my hand down the back of my neck, suddenly hit with the overwhelming sensation of having long hair.
“It is the title by which I have always referenced you—one that shows the proper respect while maintaining professional distance.”
I shake my head. “Why won’t you shut up?”
“We’ve gone over this. You must try harder. Your brother’s life could depend on it.”
“My brother?” A pain shoots down my arm and my eyes flutter. The image of a boy flashes through my mind. My brother, Olin. He’s in danger without me.
“Careful, Ms. Bluehair. Mind your abilities.”
I open my eyes, gaze into my lap, and jolt in terror. “My hand!”
Turon says, “Calm yourself. This is hardly the time to draw attention.”
“It’s burning!” I try to stand, but my butt is glued to the bench.
“Calli, listen. Calli.” I can’t tear my eyes away from the green flames consuming my hand. Turon inches closer. “Breathe, and you will be perfectly safe.”
“It doesn’t hurt.” I try to steady my breathing. “Why doesn’t it hurt?” Turon stretches out his hand and knocks my water from the bench. I reach for it then gasp. Frozen in midair, the cup and spilled water float just beyond the tip of my fingers. I pull back my hand and the water splashes onto the bottom of the stands.
“You are an electromagnetic transducer,” Turon states matter of factly. “Centavo suggested you would be. I refused to believe the possibility until I saw the evidence with my own eyes. The occurrence is quite rare.”
“I’m an electro-what?” I flex my fingers, and to my relief the green glow gradually disappears.
“Your body has the ability to convert multiple forms of energy into electromagnetic energy—specifically a high range microwave which coupled with the genetic effects of the twitch enables you to perform various acts of kinesis with mere thought.”
I stare at him with my mouth hanging open.
“You have a nearly unlimited ability to move things with your mind,” he says and smiles politely.
“Masa Academy.” A connection fires in my brain. “That’s what I was learning there.”
Turon nods. “What else?”
“You mentioned my brother, but I don’t—” I can’t finish the sentence with any kind of certainty. “Until now I would have sworn I didn’t have one. I do though, don’t I? I don’t understand.”
Turon’s gaze shifts toward the track where a handful of girls are milling aimlessly. “Good practice, ladies. You can head in now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He returns his piercing attention to me. “Our time is almost expired, Ms. Bluehair. Coach Castillo will soon require full control of his body, and I cannot risk leaving my own in stasis much longer.”
A singular image overrides my awareness—a tiny girl’s face within a swirling cloud of gasses. “Zorrah.” I stare at Turon. “I remember someone named Zorrah. She and Olin need me.”
“Yes, Ms. Bluehair, they do. They need you to locate their doppelgängers and show them the truth.”
“See you in homeroom?” Heather’s voice jolts me fully back into my surroundings.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I wave her off.
She jogs toward the field house, no doubt mumbling something smart as she goes.
Turon holds out his hand. “If you will allow me, I can help you understand. I can help you complete the twining process, but it will require physical touch.”
I scoot further away. “I don’t trust you.”
“All of your confusion and misgivings will continue unless you make this step, not to mention the increased risk of harm you run to your own body as well as the lives of your friends in the academy.”
When I hesitate further, Turon sighs long and deep. “I have given nearly one hundred years of my life to set the stage for you, Calli Bluehair. Now all those years have come down to the next several weeks. Please, allow me to reveal to you the possibilities.”
I hear Turon’s words echo in my mind. “You’ve said that to me before, haven’t you?”
He nods. “It will take only a moment, but you must be willing. I cannot force the transition without damaging the mind of your doppelgänger host.”
“Okay.” I slide my hand across the bench. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I assure you, a finger is all I need.” He slides his hand on top of my own. Before I can regret the decision, my eyes flutter and the morning track practice is replaced by a cascade of memories, longings, and fears.
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