Rise of Xavia Read online

  Rise of the

  Xavia

  Tara Chau

  Copyright © 2021 Golden Earth Publishing

  All Rights Reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the copyright owner, or in the case of the reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licensees issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publisher.

  For my quirky class of 2020-

  I love you all.

  Part one

  The Xavia

  Once upon a time, there lived an ordinary girl. The only extraordinary thing about her were her eyes. This girl was plagued, plagued by dreams that never seemed to cease, never seemed to leave.

  Then, her mother died, not unexpectedly, but it shattered her world. So, for the good of them both, her father moved them to another country.

  A new start awaited. Little did she know that living right beside her, in the next house over, was the impossible. A boy who led her to others, and together, they all changed her world, quite literally. The girl who was fiercer than a lioness, and two boys. One was loyal as a dog, and the other had eyes of dying embers. They became her family. The reason she now fought in this new incredible world..

  Inevitably, she fell in love. Her life was perfect. She was happy, she was strong, and she radiated light. Though light must eventually fade. Tragic events transpired, and everything crumbled to pieces. Her love fell, and so did her body.

  But this is not a story of death or pain. This is a story of life and what we must do to survive it, to live it.

  So, the girl with the broken body and soul travelled through life, searching every face in every crowd for her mate, her life partner.

  Still, one month and two days later, she has not given up. Some may call it hope, but she calls it trust. She trusts that her love will return one day to bring her home.

  23rd of January 2034. Today is the big day. The day where my life will forever change. For better or worse… to be discovered. In two hours, my dad and I will be off to the airport to start our new life in England. Without my mother.

  * * *

  About a year ago, my mother was diagnosed with Cancer. The doctors said that she had about nine months to live. They suggested that we spend as much time with her as possible. She had no interest in treatment. We simply had to respect her decision. We simply had to stay. Stand beside her and smile. Stand beside her and laugh. It was absolutely heart-shattering for my father and me. All we could do was what the doctor ordered. Spend all our time with her, and if we had no time, then we would make time.

  Within three weeks, you could see that she was getting tired. Sometimes she was so drained she couldn’t leave the house. One or two times, she would be in so much pain that I wanted it to just be over for her. To make her pain stop. Mum would be in hospital for weeks at a time and sometimes refuse to see us. She said that she never wanted me to see her that way. Scared. Weak.

  The last two months of her life were too much. Coming home from school, I would often lock myself in my room just to cry myself to sleep.

  One night, six or so months after mum was diagnosed, I came back from a friends’ house. The car wasn’t there, and all the lights were off. My dad had left a note on the fridge saying that they were at the hospital and to come as soon as I could. I was scared. I didn’t want to go. What if it was too late? What if something was wrong? What if I didn’t make it?

  I wanted to go curl up on my bed and cry, cry until it was over. Then, both our pain would cease. Something told me, though, that this could be the last time I would be able to see my mum, see her heart rising in her chest and hear her melodious voice. One last chance to watch her beautiful meadow eyes fill with love as I held her close. One last chance.

  I got to the hospital about half an hour later, afraid that it was too late. Rushing into the room, three pairs of eyes stared at me. They were all full of tears, expressions laced with sorrow and regret. The quiet beep of the life monitor and the sound of laboured breathing told me that I’d made it and that I could see my mother. But the energy in the room confirmed my thoughts.

  As I walked over to her, the doctor and my father left the room. I knew at that moment she didn’t have long and that this was our moment. I knew that soon this would end, that there would be no more sadness, no more pain. My hands began trembling, and my feet felt like lead as I started towards her. The slightest change in mum’s breathing told me that she was now awake and that I was running out of time.

  I slowly approached the bed and knelt so I could look into her meadow green eyes. Eyes so different from mine. They held so much pain and longing I started to cry. Her soft, muffled voice tried to comfort me, but the effort made me sob harder.

  My mother told me in that moment that she couldn’t be prouder and she loved me, but I had to let her go. But what she was asking me to do, I just couldn’t. To let go of the person who raised me, saw me rise, and saw me fall. My mother said that she would be happy. She would be content in this new part of her journey. The clock was ticking, and I was losing her. She beckoned me closer.

  “I have had…the best life. The absolute best,” she whispered. My shoulders curled, and she took my hand. “Listen to me, don’t stay sad too long, okay? Live your life to its fullest. If there is one thing that I’ve learned in these last few months, is that life is short. But if you live it well, it will be good to you just like it has been to me. I love you and your father more than I can explain, and you both have made me so, so h….”

  The beeping noise of the heart monitor came to a constant deathly ringing, and her last intake of air seemed to be drawn from my own supply of oxygen. No more pain.

  A small sigh left her once red and full lips. I pleaded with her, telling her to hang on and that we would be alright. I cried and screamed as my father and the doctors ran in. My father ushered me out of the room and told me that we would be okay. Screaming and banging on the shut door, I realised that I would never talk to my mother again, never share my secrets, or taste her familiar spiced foods.

  I crawled over to a plastic chair in the hallway and cried like never before. Soon I started to doze off, the far-off sound of the heart monitor quietly ringing, the muffled cries and shouts of my father slowly drifting away. The darkness welcomed me as I wafted into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Three suitcases, two duffle bags, and a carry-on were all packed and ready to go. I walk into my father’s bedroom and locate the CD player. Switching it on so that blasting music fills the room. Seriously, the Beatles? Lame. “WAKEY, WAKEY, EGGS, AND BAKEY! Get me breakfast.” I yell at the dad-sized lump under the duvet. “Go ‘way, Dianna,” Dad answers, his voice muffled by the pillow.

  “No way!” I shout, “It’s time for something new, which we can’t do if you don’t WAKE UP. Plus, I don’t think the classic Sleeping Beauty thing is really working for you, dad.”

  I hear another muffled groan, and his drowsy eyes appear from the ruffled pillow. “Fine. Just leave me alone for a few more minutes, and I’ll be out.” He promises.

  “Okay, but you better wake up soon, or I’ll have to make breakfast, and we don’t want that now, do we, considering the last time.”

  “Yes, Miss, now go.” He says, throwing the pillow after me before adding, “but don’t make breakfast!”

  The hall is cold, and the floorboards creak as I wander around, trying to figure out what to do while I wait. Reaching my room, I slid back into my warm
bed, grabbing my laptop, and type in “England’s school for gifted,” also known as ESG. I scroll down, re-reading the school's motto.

  Be who YOU want to be.

  Determined to amuse myself, I look through the site, scanning the pictures and activities. After extensive scrolling, I shut down my laptop and jump out of bed. I am bored. Peeking through dad’s ajar door to check if he is up yet. He isn’t, damn.

  Walking down the hall again, I steel myself and glance into my parents’ old room. Since mum had passed, dad hadn’t slept in their bed. He couldn’t even walk into the room if it wasn’t to collect something quickly. Shuffling into the room, I inhale a deep breath, savouring the familiar sweet scent of Mum’s perfume lingering on the unchanged bedsheets. Leaning against the wall, I scan the room for anything I had missed while cleaning.

  Eight boxes have been stacked against the far corner containing photographs, clothing, and possessions of mums. Each box was labelled carefully with white tape and markings. Striding over to the dresser, I glance into the mirror.

  My long hair is drawn back from my face by a black headband, a wavy mix of blonds and pale browns. My eyes, rimmed with long lashes and glossy with excitement, staring back at me with purpose. Looking away from my pale skin, I exit the room, striding for the living room to begin moving boxes.

  It’s time to go.

  * * *

  One step, one more step, and I will be over the threshold of our new house. Our new home is a small thing, only two bedrooms and one bathroom that I must share with my dad. Great. Breathing in, I take that first step through the door, the first step into my new life.

  Roaming down the hall, I enter the second room on the left. This is my new room. It’s not very big, maybe half the size of my old room. Making my way over to the far wall, I draw open the long curtains. Behind them is a glass door that leads out to a small garden with neat bushes and close crop trees. I smile.

  The sliding door opens with a hiss, and I step out. The sun shines over most of the garden, but I search for a spot of shade to lay down in. Strolling through the grass, I make my way over to a shaded spot under a small tree near the fence, which blocks my view of the neighbour’s house. I carefully take my coat off and slip it under my head to act as a pillow, lying back with a sigh. My eyes close just as a breeze of fresh air swims by, smelling vanilla and cinnamon, a surprisingly satisfactory combination. Soaking in the warmth of the sun on my face, I attempt to let all my worries and doubt about this new life drift away from me. I try to fall asleep on the lush green lawn but only manage to close my eyes for a few minutes before hearing a muffled laugh coming from over the fence. Reluctantly I open my eyes, blinking a couple of times in the sun’s brightness. Slowly sitting up, I walk over to the fence. A strangled cry escapes my throat as I stumble back. A dark figure nests atop the fence, causing my heartbeat to accelerate. The figure who sits on the fence stares down at me with intrigued eyes. A boy. Damn, a boy.

  I stare at him, trying to take in all his features. His blond hair and sapphire blue eyes are so bright that I can’t seem to stop looking. His mouth slowly quirks up in the corners, and I can see the humour in his handsome features.

  “What’s your name?” the boy asks.

  Realising that I am still staring, I opened my mouth to speak, only to stop myself. Should I really tell this stranger what my name is? He already knows where I live. Next, he could ask me where I go to school, what my age is. I remember my mother telling me about stranger danger and never talk to them, no matter how nice they seem. A familiar ache thuds against my chest at the thought of her, but this is my chance at a new start. So I count to three and blink, silencing my heart.

  The boy snorts. “I won’t bite. My name is Ty, and I live next door. I go to school at ESG. That’s short for England’s School.”

  “I know what it’s short for,” I say, cursing my unsure tone.

  “Well, what do you know? She can speak.” He says sarcastically.

  I didn’t like the way his eyes sparkle in the sun and the way that his smile is melting my insides. I didn’t even know who this guy is other than what he had just told me. But there is something about him that intrigues me, and he is somehow mysterious. Something inside my head tells me he is hiding something behind his regrettably distracting eyes.

  “I think I might just call you Smiles since you love smiling so much.”

  I frown. Further, I don’t think that I’m smiling. In fact, I was trying to give him a look that said something along the lines of what the hell do you want?

  “I was joking, and you haven’t smiled or said anything to me other than telling me that I was wrong. Anyways, I’m having a party next week, and I’m turning seventeen, so there might be some ruckus, apologies. How old are you? I’m going to guess maybe fifteen turning sixteen. Is that right?” he asks, speaking double time. Like he is worried about an interruption.

  Ty looks at me and must have noticed that I remain staring at him. He grins an expression that makes me want to smile but at the same time knock it off his face. He continues talking before I can decide to do either.

  “It’s okay, Smiles, and I know that my looks can render any girl speechless and leave them staring. But the look you are giving me is a mix between: can I kill him? And, why is he so handsome? Well, I have the answer to both those questions. No, you can’t and because the Angels love me.”

  This dude is starting to get on my nerves. What does he want?

  “That’s not my name,” I say cautiously.

  “What?”

  “That’s… not… my… name.” I repeat slower, acting as if he were five, “And I’m sixteen, turning seventeen in six months for your information”, I state, throwing my shoulders back.

  “I’m still older than you, and please, tell me the great secret of what your name must be.” He replies dramatically, swinging his legs.

  “If I do, will you leave me alone?” A hopeless request.

  “Probably not, but I would still like to know your name. Please? We are neighbours, after all.”

  “Oh, Joy,” I declared sarcastically. “My name is Dianna.”

  “Dianna,” he repeats thoughtfully, rolling it on his tongue, “can I call you Di?”

  Ty pronounced it like the letter, dragging out the sound in that English accent of his. Dee.

  “No.”

  “Come on, Di, Dianna is so sophisticated. Change it up a bit.” He grins.

  “No, you can call me by my name,” I say with narrowed eyes

  “Dianna?” comes a booming voice.

  “That would be my dad.” I say, looking back at my new and foreign house, “I would say that it was nice to meet you, but frankly, it was just weird.” I say, returning his grin with one of my own, one that used to drive my old friends mental.

  “It was nice to meet you to Smiles. See you over the fence.”

  He winks at me and jumps off the fence, disappearing. I am left breathless and suspicious.

  Thump!

  I wake up with a start, wondering what the noise could have been.

  Giving a passing glance at the clock hanging from my wall, I sigh at the sight of the big hand pointing at ten. God, I really must start waking up on time, especially with school starting in two days. Jet lag makes my head groggy as I force myself to rise from the bed.

  I slowly make my way across the hall into my dad’s pigsty of a room, my nose crinkling at the sight of piled dirty dishes and discarded clothing. After two weeks, he still hasn’t bothered to start unpacking his stuff. All sorts of things have been dumped on top of the boxes, acting as a temporary bench for my dad’s things. At least, I hope it’s temporary. I find myself wading through a maze of stuff. Boxes, bags, clothes, and wires, until I finally come to rest beside dad’s bed.

  “What’s up?” I ask in a slightly annoyed tone.

  Dad is awake, his eyes alert and searching as I stand before him. “It’s Friday, and I have to work
, but I decided to do it from home. I was trying to reach for my computer over on that box, but it fell.” He points to the computer about three steps from where I am currently standing.

  “Could you grab it for me, sweetheart?” he asks with a toothy smile.

  Picking up the device, I hand it to him.

  “I’ve ordered your school supplies from office works. Could you pick it up this afternoon? Around three. I’ll give you some money for the bus and a snack for the way back.” He adds.

  “Yep, that’s fine. I’ve got no friends here anyway, so I’ve got nothing better to do,” I admit.

  “What about that nice lad you were talking to a few weeks ago? You should ask him to go show you around the city, pick up the stuff on the way back.” He offers.

  “You’re my dad. You’re not supposed to tell me to go off around the city with cute boys.” I growl.

  “Hey, I never said anything about him being cute. I couldn’t see his face. That was all you.” He grins unapologetically.

  I’m about to protest when my stomach begins to grumble. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now.

  “I’m going to get breakfast,” I mumble.

  As I make my way down the hall, I hear dad laughing, saying something about how girls were so sensitive, and I smile despite myself. Making a bowl of cereal and fruit, I travel back into my room and nudge open the rolling glass door to go outside and sit in the limited sun.

  The mornings are always cold here, so I have a picnic blanket ready to take out with me whenever I sit out there. Placing myself carefully on the mat, trying not to spill any of the milk, I sit listening to the sweet sound of birds and the occasional whoosh as a car that races by. Finishing my bowl, I set it aside so I can lie down. Closing my eyes, I try to drift back off to sleep. Still drowsy from morning brain, as I like to call it.