"Trista! Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," Serena giggled, embarrassed.
Trista yawned around a chuckle. "Yes, but it's okay."
"Um, I'm over at Darien's, and we were just making sure Rini's still at your place," Serena continued. Trista could hear Darien's voice telling her something. "And if we could come get her in around an hour."
"Yes and yes," Trista replied sleepily.
"Okay." She could hear Serena say something to Darien and vice-versa. "Darien wants to talk with you. See you later."
Before she could say anything, Darien came on. "Trista, are you alright? Is Solar?"
Trista sighed. Atia murmured something in her sleep and buried her face into the pillow. The Guardian ran a hand through her ponytail as she thought about an answer. "I'm not fine but not bad. Solar's utterly cracked."
Darien was silent for a moment. "Did you see Atia after the dance? We couldn't find her."
"She's here. She's one of the ones that got out before the attack. She came back to my house," Trista lied quietly.
"Good." Darien didn't sound completely convinced, but he didn't ask questions. "Trista, I want to apologize about Luna and Artemis. I can't believe..."
"Don't," the green-haired warrior interrupted. "They're right in every aspect. The truth...it just hurts so badly."
"Ready...run hard!" Atia crouched down and caught Rini. The girl flipped backwards, Atia's hands bracing her, just as Darien opened the door. Rini landed a perfect back handspring, arms in the air with her wrists down, as though she were competing for a judge. "Good. More spring next time, okay?"
"Woah! Rini, when did you learn how to do that?" Serena goggled as she walked in.
"Atia taught me," Rini beamed. "She's the best."
Atia laughed. "Me? No way."
"I bet you could even teach Serena!"
"Even she has her limits, I'm sure," Serena said flatly.
Atia smiled. "You're not too old, Serena."
Serena looked surprised. "Me? Gymnastics?"
"Yeah." Atia stood up. "It's not too hard."
Trista walked into the room, hearing them. "Hey guys." Atia did a standing back handspring. "Atia, you only woke up thirty minutes ago, and now you're making my house shake!"
Autumn trotted in, saw Serena and Darien, and stopped, smiling. "Hey Serena."
"Autumn! I can't believe you'd rather stay here and baby-sit this brat than come to a dance!" Serena scolded her friend.
Autumn laughed. "She's a doll, Serena. Loud music makes my head hurt, anyway."
"Doll my foot," Serena grumbled.
"Atia, weren't you going to the track try-outs?" Darien inquired, glancing at his watch. "They're starting now."
"WHAT?! I didn't think it was for another hour!" With a shriek, the girl bolted out the door with a holler of, "Sorry bye!" Within seconds she was out of eye shot.
"For some reason, I think she'll make it," Trista said with a wry smile.
A familiarly sharp voice made Atia look up for the sign-up sheet. She turned around just in time to see Amara take off around the track. Her eyes measured the blonde's stride and move. Not much had changed since the last time she'd watched her run. Smiling like the devil, Atia stood, prepared for onslaught of hate the girl would give her yet again. Atia strode out to the track and was waiting when Amara finished her run.
Amara, panting a little, stared at her in surprise. "You."
"And you. I didn't think you were in college," Atia smiled.
"I'm enrolling," Amara said stiffly.
"May I ask why?"
"To keep an eye on you."
Atia laughed. "Me? Oh, it's about Darien, isn't it? Don't worry; he's just a friend."
"Atia Tamuchi, you may begin!" the PA system announced.
Atia smiled again at Amara. "Later." Without a backward glance, the girl took off at what most would've considered a top speed - but it was only a jog for her. The girl sighed. The air blew against her, and she watched only the passing track around her. Running made her forget, made her think of other things. Like when to speed up! she decided. With a skip-hop of good-moodiness, she sprang into a flat-out run that covered ground as quickly as a racehorse. She only stopped the hellish pace when she reached the end of the track, face-to-face with an astonished Amara.
"You...that's..."
"Not my best? I know, but I haven't run like that for quite a few years. Feels great." Atia walked over to the bleachers where her bag lay. She pulled a towel out and wiped the light glean of sweat off of her face, arms, and shoulders.
Her heart was hammering with delight and not exhaustion. The running reminded her of other things, things she had done an impossibly long time ago. However, only one person would provide a decent match, and that was Trista. But Trista wasn't here.
Being the last of the runners, Atia trotted back to the track, where Amara watched her with a frown. Not saying a word, Atia took off again. Suddenly she heard the hammering of feet behind her, and she glanced behind her. Amara.
"You're not going to beat me!" she sang over the rushing wind.
"That's what you think!" Amara was suddenly right beside her.
Atia laughed and gazed ahead. They were only a quarter of the way around the track! "No, that's what I know!" She flattened out into the pace she had finished the previous run in. Within seconds Amara had caught up with her again.
"Quit playing around and run, damn you!"
"Gladly!" Halfway around, Atia sped up again - and kept going faster. When she was running as fast as she possibly could, she found enough energy to span her to the finish. As her feet hit the white line, she heard Amara not more than five behind her finish. "Told you!"
Amara was looking slightly confused. "I've raced you before."
Not gasping for breath quite yet, Atia beamed as though she hadn't heard the comment. "A race well ran." Her legs burned, but she was used to the feeling and ignored their numbness as she walked back to her bag.
Just about then, the forgotten tack coaches came rushing around the corner, staring at the two girls in shock. "You both just beat the world record time!"
"I suppose that means we made the team?" Amara asked wryly. The judges nodded.
"So, if we keep it hush-hush, then we'll beat all the area schools," Atia snorted, grinning.
"We won't always run full out," Amara grinned.
"Just enough to beat everybody's butts. Then, later, we can tell everyone. It'll be...a secret." Atia's smile dared the judges to argue.
That done, the two girls walked off, then realized they were in their tracksuits moments before entering the busy Tokyo main city. Amara turned and stared at Atia. Like before, she no longer felt anger towards the girl. It was a come and go, an indescribable thing. "Race 'ya to the shower house!" Atia yelped, and Amara streaked after her.
They charged into the building and the same time and nearly fell over each other. Atia popped into one of the showers. Amara flushed one of the toilets, and Atia started shrieking. Amara was laughing so hard she didn't see the bucket of cold water dumped over her head until she felt it, then whirled around to see Atia, downed in a towel, holding the object of crime.
They were laughing so hard they collapsed to the floor.
"Atia!"
"Trista!" Atia turned around and faced her friend.
"You're all wet, Amara," Michelle smirked, coming up beside Trista.
"No thanks to her," Amara said with a grin.
"You're the one who turned the showers cold," Atia whined.
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you two made the team?" Trista smiled.
Amara and Atia exchanged glances. "Who? Us?" Atia asked innocently.
"Nah," Amara shook her head.
Atia giggled and clapped her hands. "Yes. And I'm hungry."
"You ate before you left," Trista scolded.
"You only ran two laps," Amara added.
"You guuuys!"
You'll never get away with this, Sebradon! an angry female voice snarled from the body.
"You won't be around long enough to find out," the man managed to retort. Why oh why had he brought her back so early? Did she know how much she frightened him? "I've already won the battle, 'qualthanio!" The answering shriek of anger nearly shook the castle to its foundation.
Atia, talking with Trista and the two cousins as they walked around the park, suddenly stumbled to her knees and almost dragged Trista down with her. Her head felt like it was splitting, and she could see only white before her. Her heart hammered in her ears, becoming the only thing she could hear. Her stomach roiled, and she was only dimly aware of someone grabbing her arm.
Then it suddenly stopped. Her head ached but not like before, and she felt nauseous. She groaned, willing the pain in her head to go away.
"Atia, Trista! Are you guys okay??" Amara asked in alarm.
"Unh?" Atia looked to her left and saw Trista beside her, whiter than chalk. "Tris?"
"My head..."
Atia frowned, pain fading. She shoved herself to her feet, one hand coming to forehead as her head throbbed. "What the bloody hell." The girl somehow coined the familiar phrase into a statement. Her hand left her forehead, came to her chest over her heart. "Something's not right..." Trista stood, looking terribly shaken.
"Huh?" Michelle stared at interrogatively. "Atia?"
Atia's hand touched something hard through her shirt, then pulled a chain from under her shirt. The locket on the necklace was black as pitch with faint gold print. She fiddled with it, staring straight ahead. "Where?" Trista said quietly.
Atia seemed to consider the question, expression uncertainly frightened and upset. "Nearby. Very close." Her eyes scanned over the area, as though expecting someone to jump out of the bushes and slit her throat.
Amara, watching her, saw her eyes widen, then relax. Her free hand came up, pointing at the far-away horizon. The sky was blue and serene. "There."
"There's nothing there," Amara murmured, more to herself than Atia.
"No." Now the new girl's eyes hardened. "There's a storm coming, Amara. A very bad storm."
"So why can't we see it?" Michelle asked evenly.
"It's not the kind of storm you're thinking of, Michelle. 'By the prickling of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.' Shakespeare, the play Mac Beth." Atia's hand lowered to her side, and her other hand let go her locket. "Sun goes down, moon comes up, and dawn will leave something different."
Amara shot a questioning look at Trista. Was her new friend insane? "She's right." The Guardian glanced back at the horizon, that back at the sandy-blonde, a look of worried fear on her normally calm face. "She's always right."
