Transformation

91. Ch12 S1

My dearest Sparks.

I’m changing things up a bit in this last chapter of Bottled Embers. Find author’s notes and updates at the bottom

I’m dropping these in here quick, in case anyone feels inspired, otherwise, dive right into the story…

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INDEX | Chapter 12 | Scene 1 | Next Scene → Coming soon.

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Previously: At the conclusion of the last chapter, Misty invited Luke and Logan to witness the death of her parents, and her subsequent meltdown, which affected them both deeply. Question is, what will they do now that they know who she really is?

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Sharing the death of my parents, of my innocence, with Luke and Logan was easier than I thought it’d be, even though I had to convince myself I really wanted to. Then again, I’ve seen it before. It was one of James’ favorites, after all. He always slowed it down at the worst parts, enjoyed the way it made me feel. He really liked the ones that hurt, best. He liked anything that hurt.

Logan shut me out as soon as it ended. Or maybe I shut him out. I don’t know, really. I was so caught up, I couldn’t even face them when Luke tried to talk about it.

Lying in my bed, staring up at the beautiful painted sky Luke made for me, I think about how, what I showed them today, might affect how they see me. If it will do any good at all. If it was worth it.

I didn’t even show them the worst of it. That was the first really bad break, but what happened after was even more cruel. James made me say those last words over and over while Teag beat the defiance out of me. James isolated and intensified the sting of each blow, concentrated and anchored the association in my head so that every time I opened my mouth to speak I’d feel that same sting…

If it hurts every time you try to do something, everyone else finds so simple, eventually you just stop trying. Chrys tried to help me get past it but James never tired of reinforcing any slippage. Over the years words got harder and harder.

Logan says Luke can fix it if I let him.

But now they know I’m a killer, a bomb waiting to explode at the slightest provocation. Now they know about Teag and James and Kayten. Now they see what a monster I am.

* * *

“We’ll figure it out.” Logan tells me, gently rubbing my back while I calm down. Luke just holds his head and breathes. I don’t know how much more of this he can take. We’ve been trying to break some of James’ conditioning for a week now, but Luke keeps letting go when things get bad. It’s hard on me too, but… Progress, is painfully slow.

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Two years later.

Walking quickly across campus, I wish I could run without attracting even more attention. I desperately grateful to be out of the press of crowded hallways and classes, trying to think of gymnastics practice later rather than the mess I very nearly left behind me. This time was just too close. If only it was so easy to keep my reflexes under control.

“Seriously Misty! You’re supposed to be in Engineering right now.” Logan’s voice instantly grounds me as I meet him by the gate.

“I know! I know. I just needed a breather.” I sigh, slipping into the shuttle, and closing my eyes as I lean back against the seat. My pulse finally starts to settle.

“Listen, I get that it’s hard, but you can’t keep ditching classes. Participation matters at a place like this. No matter how brilliant you are—”

“I know, Logan, just. Give me a sec.” I take a deep breath, letting the tension drain as my energy slowly subsides. “You have no idea how mean those girls are. I don’t even look at them. How can they hate me so much?”

Logan’s eyes soften, understanding flickering in his gaze. “What happened this time?”

“Nothing major, this time, the usual snide comments and sideways glances, taunting, testing...” I clench my fists against my knees, feeling the urge to lash out again. “I nearly lost it.”

“I see. Well Luke warned you there’d be push-back. Your precision threatens them. It makes you different,” Logan says, the usual protectiveness in his voice. “But, you’ve got to learn to deal. Remember why you’re here. It’s all practice.”

“Yeah. I know. Ten classes a week, two discussion points per class. I’ll be fine in a minute. Professor Stevens loves me—he won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Logan raises an eyebrow but lets it go. I allow myself one last calming breath before heading back out. As I step down I look back, “Hey, thanks, for coming.” I say, a little softer.

Logan smiles, “Anytime.”

“If I make it through this week, will you let me pilot?” I ask, trying to sound casual but a bit of hope slips through.

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, it’s hard to believe you can excel in everything else you try, but piloting sees you spinning us nearly out of orbit.”

“Practice makes perfect.” I offer, grinning.

“Maybe.” He eyes me sidelong. “No more near meltdowns, and I’ll talk to Luke, but you have to promise.”

I nod rushing off to class.

Engineering is my favorite. Numbers, logic, structure. Here at least precision is valued.

I mumble an apology, rushing in through the open door. Slipping into my seat, I pull out my tab. The Professor continues his lecture, without missing a beat. I follow along, quickly picking up the thread of structural analysis, and jot down the equations with confident strokes, the principles already feeling solid in my mind. This is where I shine, just me and the numbers.

“Misty, care to help us out here?” Professor Stevens calls on me, and I realize he’s been watching me working out the solution. I nod and he opens the channel to share my screen with the class.

“There you go guys. See how easy this is? Missed half the class and she’s got it already.” I sit up a little straighter as he gestures for me to explain.

“Walk us through, would you?” His tone is encouraging, and I take a deep breath, then confidently lay out the calculations, step-by-step. My fingers fly across the screen, moving automatically. Engineering—the structure, the stability, the answers—it keeps my mind off of the stares.

“Great job today, Misty.” Professor Stevens, glances at me over the top of his glasses as I pack up while the other students file out. “You know… I understand that public opinion isn’t your top priority, but after a display like that, being on time once in a while might make you less of a target.” He says with a good-natured chuckle as I hand him my attendance and discussion sheet to sign. I can’t help but notice a couple of classmates hanging back, watching, one girl rolling her eyes as she whispers to the others.

I thank the professor and press my tab close to my side as I hurry out, before I catch any more looks.

Outside the air is cool and heavy with moisture. It wants to rain. I look up at the gathering clouds and let out a long breath as I head to the gymnasium. The thought of gymnastics practice always brings a surge of calm. Swinging on the high bars, tumbling on the mat, the balance beam, or the rings. Every movement depending on muscle memory, control and timing—easy-peasy.

By the time I reach the gym, my mind is focused entirely on the high bars. I change quickly into my light blue leotard and step onto the mat to start my warm-up.

The metal bar feels cold and secure in my hands as I push up and swing. As I move through the routine, each twist, hold and dismount, it’s almost like flying, I barely feel gravity.

Calmer now, than I have all day I can’t help but think of how I got here, how far I’ve come. Each precise, deliberate, move feels like a step away from who I was before, a step towards myself as I’ve become. Learning to fit in in this world has been tough but Luke and Logan assure me I’ve made excellent progress.

As I dismount once more, sticking the landing, I catch sight of the other gymnasts watching from the side. They’re whispering as usual, their expressions shifting from awe to something colder. Of course they’re jealous. Of course they don’t understand. How could they? This isn’t talent, it’s not ability—it’s muscle memory. It’s practice pure and simple. James implanted the techniques in my head so I’d know what to do but Teag made me practice them until they became natural, until perfection became natural. Now I don’t know any other way.

I feel like hiding—that I could just practice at home, but gym class is part of the program. Ten classes a week, two points per class.

I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t notice Tiana striding over. She was number one until I joined, and it’s her friends that have been provoking me all day. She looks friendly enough. I brace myself, reaching for my towel as she closes in.

“Hey, Misty. A few of us are having a party Friday.” You should come.” Tiana says, her tone light and casual, but her smile is just a little too sharp.

I glance at her, surprised. “I don’t know, Tiana. I’m not really into the whole social scene.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she insists, her mean friends nodding along just a bit too eagerly.

I feel my shoulders tighten. “Sure, I’ll… I’ll see if I can make it. Thanks for the invite.”

***

Luke is thrilled, just like I knew he would be. He arranges everything—personal shopper, stylist, hair, shoes, accessories. By the time they’re done I’ve had half a dozen strange women fussing over me for the last two hours and I hardly recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. The skin tight, slate gray, mid thigh dress, that echoes my eyes, now smoky and mysterious, and the blush pink lips that “add just enough color without overpowering my natural features.” I roll my eyes. The heels pinch and the necklace weighs heavily on my collarbones and they’ve turned my hair into a poufy teased up disaster.

I could really go for a swim right now, just dive into some cool water and feel it all wash away. But that’d ruin my makeup.

“Perfect!” Luke exclaims, bursting into the dressing room, grinning as he circles me, to take in every angle. I try to return his smile, but I’m anxious, I have been since the invitation. I tell myself it’s just nerves. It has to be. The product of an isolated childhood and a mountain of baggage. The person in the mirror sure does look the part.

“Wow!” I hear Logan behind me and turn to meet his gaze. “It’s a college party Luke, not a fundraiser.” He says with bent brow, then smiles at me like the cat that got the cream. I blush, in spite of my nerves and wish this dress was a little longer.

“You look amazing,” Logan says as he comes to stand beside me, looking dashing in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair is tied back at the nape of his neck, and there’s just the tiniest hint of stubble on his cheeks. At least I’ll be spending the evening with him by my side.

* * *

“I- I’ve got it!” I wrench the joystick out of Logan’s reach sending the shuttle swerving violently as he grabs whatever he can to keep his feet.

“Watch out for the trees!” he shouts as I straighten up and try to stabilize us while avoiding most of the tall branches. The shuttle catches with a crunch before it evens out and I exhale softly, my hands tightening just a little more on the joystick.

I take a deep breath and focus all my attention on keeping our flight stable, until the next turn comes up and I take it a little too quickly, rocking us once again. Logan eyes me from the seat he hastily belted himself into but says nothing.

“Sorry,” I mumble adjusting my grip and at last the thrum of the engine comes through. I can do this.

* * *

I ease the shuttle down smoothly, and land with just the tiniest bump. Logan looks over, nodding approvingly. At least it seems like I’m picking up some new skills.

The buzz of the party filters through the night air—a low hum of laughter, music and chatter, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the open doors. I swallow, feeling a sudden surge of anxiety, a strange thrill that’s equal parts nervousness and excitement. It’s my first real social event.

“Don’t worry.” Logan says, with an encouraging smile as I put my hand in his. “Just relax and have fun.”

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Next Time: Not everything goes to plan at the party when a ghost from the past comes back to haunt Misty and she winds up in a whole heap of trouble.

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Author’s Notes:

You’ll have noticed a big change in the graphics…

I made them!!!

YES, I went through an artistic phase in high school. I don’t claim to be any good, but frustration with AI imagery not being able to give me exactly what I want, sent me seraching through old papers. And NO! These pics weren’t even close to what I wanted, but at least it’s HUMAN Made.

When I started writing this story, years and years ago, I was obsessed with pencil. I thought it was the most beautiful way to create anything, so I wrote the ENTIRE thing down by hand—drove my parents mad. I never went anywhere without a clipboard and a pencil, and constantly jotted down everything. Here and there I sketched a few things out, and lettering seemed to be the only thing I was even halfway good at, so most of those ended up being character names. I have a few more that I’ll keep to myself. Maybe one day I’ll let you see my (bad) handwriting…

Okay, that’s all for today. Thanks for reading! Remember, I love comments, and I love to hear about anything this piece made you feel. I’m always super happy to chat about anything BE related.

Also, if you want to support this project, don’t forget to like with that little heart 💓 and share ♻️!!

Until next time.

- Jenny*

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Oh and I’m trying tagging for Sci-Friday, so hoping this works…

Dré Labre , Kevin Alexander, Rudy Fischmann, BrianAlfred1983, Alejandro Piad Morffis, Hannah Yoest, Jeff Kinnard, Alex S. Garcia, Michael S. Atkinson, Ross Bingham, Scoot, radicaledward, Lausanne Davis Carpenter, Cole Noble, Jordan Moloney, John Coon, Edward Rooster, Redd Oscar, Andrew Smith, Jon T, Daniel M. Bensen, Zachary Roush, Stirling S Newberry, Rachel LaDue, Keith Hayden, Kay Moulton, David Sheley, L.L. Ford, The Brothers Krynn, Michaela McKuen, S Tallett, René Volpi, Sam Rake Kathrine Elaine, Ika Wright, Von, Jessica Maison, and Ryan Schneider,Matthew Brady, Thérèse Judeana, andRyan W. CraverBryan Beal, njmksr, A.C. Cargill, Author, TIBERIUS, Keith Patterson, Michael B. Morgan, The Black Knight, and M.P. Fitzgerald - Graphomania, Andy Futuro

By the way… There has to be a better way to do this.