Smoke After Midnight

Chapter One

Lavender wafted from the golden waves that framed her face as she emerged from the moon’s shadow. The streetlamp cast a soft halo around her, transforming her into a quiet constellation. Even the birds perched on the power lines hushed, as if the night itself were leaning in close to listen. She glided toward me barefoot, each step silent yet confident, the asphalt cool enough to fog beneath her soles.

When she paused just an arm’s length away, I found myself captivated once more. Tiny gold flecks danced in her green irises like captive comets caught in orbit. A gentle breeze lifted her loose curls, releasing their warm, sweet scent, impossibly alive and intoxicating. My heart thundered in my chest, the rhythm so fervent it rattled the leaves of a nearby elm.

I was tall, but she rose onto her tiptoes, bringing our lips just a breath apart. In that moment, I noticed a star-shaped birthmark below her left ear. A solid evidence of her reality, I told myself. Tonight, I would finally reach her. I lifted my hand, yearning to bridge the distance.

But before I could touch her, she pressed a finger to my lips, a smile dancing on her face. Half mischief, half sorrow. Then, in a whisper that barely reached my ears, she spoke a single syllable. Light fractured around her figure, and she began to dissolve into shimmering smoke, trailing lavender as she slipped away, the night folding in around her.

The shriek of my alarm shattered the dream into fragments. Monday sunlight spilled through the blinds, harsh and bright, slapping my face awake. I inhaled, catching a trace of that lavender scent for just three heartbeats before it vanished completely.

This was the fifth dream in five nights, and with each awakening, the loneliness clung to me more heavily.

Chapter Two

Mom’s kitchen was a tapestry of scents: the sizzle of bacon, the warm allure of cardamom, and the faint citrus tang of dish soap. She moved gracefully in her faded floral robe, humming an Amharic lullaby that had once shielded me from the monsters lurking in my closet. Steam curled from the teapot like a lazy genie, fogging the window and turning morning into a watercolor painting.

“Morning, Rookie,” she called without looking up. “Nightmares again?” Though her back remained straight, the question carried a mother’s worry that seeped into the air between us.

“Just weird dreams,” I replied, sliding into my chair and avoiding her concerned gaze. There was no need to share that I was falling for a mirage while tuition bills piled up like forgotten dust.

Mom plated my breakfast and kissed my forehead, nudging a ceramic mug into my hands. “Eat. You won’t absorb any knowledge on an empty stomach.”

We chewed in comfortable silence, the only sound the steady tick of the wall clock. Between bites, I traced the wood grain of the table, imagining it was a map to somewhere simpler. All the while, Mom studied me, her eyes lingering on the purple shadows beneath mine or the way my hand reached for something intangible. She reached across the table, squeezed my wrist with a gentle, familiar touch, letting the silence convey her unsaid questions. I squeezed back, silently reassuring her: I’m fine, I promise.

Once the dishes were rinsed and the frying pan soaked, I wheeled my rust-patched bike out to the curb. Luxury cars glittered along the street, sleek and expensive reminders that I was bound for a school where kids collected accolades the way squirrels hoarded acorns.

As I pedaled toward Dimsdale High for Exceptionals, the seat squeaked its usual protest beneath me. The scholarship had felt like a lifeline three years ago, a golden ticket to a future Mom could proudly boast about. These days, it felt like the universe’s favorite joke, leaving ordinary Rookie to navigate a world filled with extraordinary geniuses and aspiring superheroes.

I paused at the front gates, allowing the gothic arches of the building to dwarf my insecurities. Somewhere within those imposing walls, answers about the dream girl awaited. My heartbeat echoed like a drum in my chest, urging me forward: find her.

Chapter 3 ~~ Rookie

The English class nestled on the third-floor mezzanine of the library wing was a sunlit sanctuary, alive with the glow of brass lamps and lined with ancient encyclopedias long forgotten by those who once tormented themselves with the task of shelving them. I had staked my claim on the coveted window seat early on. Small victories felt precious against the backdrop of my life, which seemed defined by a series of small defeats.

The double doors creaked open, and Hazlynn glided in, her rosewood perfume and the rhythmic tapping of her high heels announcing her like an elegant overture. Heads turned, their movements synchronized as if they were sunflowers yearning for the light. She offered a half-smile, one that hinted she alone possessed the secrets of the universe, before making her way to her desk with an effortless grace, as if gravity were merely a suggestion.

As Ms. Davenport launched into a lecture on Hawthorne, I doodled elaborate mazes across the margins of my notebook, my focus wavering. Then, something caught my eye. A flicker of color as her copper hair caught the sunlight, blooming into a shade of lavender for a fleeting moment. I blinked, and just like that, the color vanished, leaving behind a sudden chill that raised gooseflesh across my arms.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the hallway erupted into a cacophony of chatter, buzzing like a shaken hive. Posters advertising the upcoming Spring Showcase fluttered against the lockers, promising grand displays of student “gifts”. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy; I’d be lucky to juggle three tennis balls when that kid on the poster could levitate five. With a sigh, I tucked my sketch deeper into my notebook, yet another secret meant to remain hidden from the world.

Chapter Four ~~ Hazlynn

Jonathan tasted of peppermint gum and possibility, a combination that lingered even after he stepped just outside my reach. I tugged gently on his bottom lip, watching a faint blush bloom across his freckled cheeks, and pinned him with my practiced angel smile.

“I hate when you tease,” he murmured, his voice a blend of frustration and admiration.

“Then quit being so adorable,” I replied, my breath barely escaping my lips. I smoothed his collar, letting my fingertips linger just long enough to catch the quick flutter of his pulse before turning down the hall. With a playful sway of my hips, I glanced back at him from the corner. He stood there, rooted to the spot, dazed and undeniably cute.

Once in the restroom, I faced the mirror to repair the remnants of mascara that had betrayed me. A quick touch of rosewood behind each ear refreshed my look, but a strange feeling washed over me as my reflection flickered with shades of green and purple. My stomach flipped, a fleeting sensation that vanished as swiftly as it came. I turned around, only to find the stalls empty, likely victims of the ancient fluorescent lights. Still, a shiver danced down my spine.

I arrived late to English, the library doors screeching in protest as I pushed them open. The entire class turned to stare, Ms. Davenport’s stern owl gaze locking onto me, unyielding. I offered a contrite nod and slipped into my seat, my heart racing.

Across the room, Rookie Mekonnen stared out the window, but today something felt different. His foot pumped anxiously against the floor, his knuckles turning white around the pencil he gripped tightly. A creeping curiosity nudged at me. When the lunch bell rang, he bolted from class, clutching his backpack as if it held a secret too precious to share. On instinct, perhaps out of boredom, I decided to follow him.

Chapter 5 ~~ Rookie

Lunch. My stomach growled like a caged creature, but Edward Leeman and his entourage blocked the main hall, their varsity jackets loud as sirens. I held my head high, trying to maintain my cool, but when a side corridor appeared on my left, instinct kicked in. I sprinted.

“Bike-Boy! Come back!” Edward thundered, his sneakers drumming against the floor behind me.

I burst into the sunlight, vaulted a low fence, and dove into the woods. Branches whipped at my face, roots snagged my shoes, but adrenaline propelled me forward until the clamor of voices faded away, leaving only a profound silence in its wake.

Then, a whisper called out, a melodic, unsettling sound, like a lullaby sung from beneath the surface of water. Curiosity drew me deeper into the forest, and soon the trees opened up into a clearing drenched in emerald light.

Heat shimmered in the air, giving the space a dreamlike quality. Within that haze stood a girl, flickering like a mirage. Her golden hair danced in the breeze, eyes fixed intently on mine. She wasn’t a hallucination; she felt real.

Her hand lifted, a silver ring catching the light engraved with the same star as her birthmark. My birthmark? No, mine was just a freckle. Yet, a sensation of recognition pulsed through my bones.

“Roo…” Her voice fractured as if she were a radio losing its signal. Just like that, she faded away, leaving the ring to tumble through empty air. It landed on the moss with a soft chime.

I scooped it up, feeling its warmth and weight. Dreams were bleeding into the daylight now.

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind me.

Hazlynn stood at the edge of the tree line, her eyes wide, the scent of her rosewood perfume battling against the damp earth. She glanced from me to the ring shimmering in my palm.

“What just happened, Rookie?” she whispered, a mixture of curiosity and concern in her voice.

I had no answers. Only a flurry of questions spiraling in my mind, racing faster than the comets reflected in her gaze. Above us, a hush fell over the canopy, as if the very forest were waiting for my reply.

(To be continued).