Kira Nightingale's Story

Kira Nightingale
May 29th
3:12 PM

"C'mon, Reg...I skipped last period for this."

Across from Kira, the redhead fidgeted, adjusting his fingerless gloves and sunglasses perched on his greasy bangs. She had him, she knew she did, and bit back a taunt. Playing with Reggie and Mo basically counted as practice for the big leagues anyway, but when they twisted under her confident gaze, she loved the rush of maddening power.

"Reeeeeg," she said, elongating his name as she leaned back against the tree.

They were set up on a cardboard box on the bit of grassy land between the skate park at the jungle gyms. Rolling wheels and child cries mixed around them. The younger kids were out of school earlier than them, waiting for parents at the playground. None of them noticed the high-schoolers under the shady trees though.

"Fold," he finally let out, shoving the cards down. She giggled, picking up the face down hand and frowning playfully over their pile of teddy grahams.

"So close."

"Shut up," he muttered, rolling to his side and then to his feet. "We're going skating." The younger kid at his side, hair dyed blacker than night, moved quickly at the words, following his brother's lead. The kid tried not to wear his sadness, but he was definitely upset about the teddy grahams.

Kira grabbed Mo's sleeve when Reggie had turned his back. Smiling, she slid the baggy of snacks to him and gestured for him to take it. Gladly, he did, moving to hug her. Everyone knew she didn't do hugs though, so he back up at the last second, nodding then running off to his skateboard.

"Bit of a softie, aren't cha?"

Kira knew that voice. And knew her smile was strained when she turned to the other side, lifting her knee to rest her arm. "Nick."

"Kira." He sat across from her, beach blonde hair in his usual faux hawk and muscle shirt gray today. The May air wasn't warm or cold, but his wore a thin jacket all the same, casual as ever. "Up for a game?"

"Uh, not really. I just played one with-"

He slammed his palm down on the cardboard box, grinning. When he lifted away, the folded bills were evident. Not singles either like he usually played. Twenties.

Kira bit her lip, but only for a second. Weakness wasn't something she showed normally, but today, well, she needed the money. Needed might not have been the correct word, but she was so close to buying that board down on Mason's. The owner at the shop had agreed to hold it for her if she had the money by this afternoon. This morning she had given up hope of ever owning the artful masterpiece, the design of suns and moons making love behind clouds created by a local artist, Jacque Im. Kira had plenty of his stuff, but this one was gold.

Leaning forward, she smiled as well. "Black Jack?" she asked sweetly, gathering the deck and shuffling the cards between her quick fingers.

*

A few games later, Kira wasn't feeling well. Her stomach knotted, but she kept up appearances, glancing to Nick across the box every few seconds, searching for his cheek to twitch or his smile to falter. But today he sat confident and collected. He'd been practicing in the mirror no doubt.

She might have to try it herself.

Because she knew her face had cracked long ago. Losing two games, she had lost half of what she had saved over the last week from doing odd neighborhood jobs and cleaning tables at Robella's. This was the last game, she decided. All or nothing. Leave it up to fate.

Nick's smile widened, if that was even possible. "Raise," he said, throwing another twenty on the stack.

Kira didn't carry her money with her, but pulled another scrap of notebook paper from the spiral at her side, writing her call in her right leaning scrawl.

The pot held at least $200 at this point.

And she felt sick. Sick as a dog in the middle of dammit-its-too-hot summer. Wiping at her brow, she found sweat and quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail, focusing on her hand.

Clubs. Four clubs and a diamond. She had two pair, that was it. He could have anything and she couldn't tell if he was bluffing. His practicing would be her ruin. She'd never have that skateboard.

She looks nervous, Nick's voice said.

"I'm not nervous," she laughed, easily hiding all the unease and nausea taking over her body.

Nick nodded once. "Sure. Not nervous."

"Nope."

She won't know what hit her, his voice cackled, echoing and somehow flat. Reggie's trick is going to teach her a goddamn lesson, oh yeah. Kira's mine.

"Trick?" she blurted, pulling her cards to her chest. "What trick? Are you seriously cheating me right now?"

"What?" Nick's eyebrows came together in a knot of confusion. Fake confusion. She saw the panic and he hadn't practiced hiding that.

Immediately she was up and tearing his cards away. A flush? No, not quite. Throwing the cards down, she saw him flinch, his right hand going to his left...above the wrist.

How could she know I hid it in my sleeve?

Kira's head pulsed hard, but she ignored it, used to having allergies and the colds that came with the changing of seasons. She'd gone years without medicine and tugged at his jacket instead of worrying about her health. Sure enough, two aces spilled from inside, spinning to the dirt.

"You bastard."

"Kira, I-"

With her rough strength, she shoved him into a tree and knocked an elbow to his nose. The pain spread over his face, one nostril blooming red. She'd never liked Nick, but now he was dead to her. She gathered the cards and all his money, storming away.

"Hey!" he shouted, trying anger. "That's mine!"

Kira swallowed hard, unsure why her arms were shaking. Over her shoulder, she yelled back, "Shoulda thought about that before cheating!"

*

When she made it around the corner, she finally allowed her body t0 fall to one knee, leaning against a brick wall and vision slurring. She'd been drunk before, but this was worse. Had she been drugged? It wasn't uncommon in the area, the mixture of suburb and the not-so-suburb suburb in the town lending to naïve girls tricked by guys with money. But there would be no way she'd been slipped something.

"Kira?" A familiar voice at least. Ms. Reginald from Robella's. Her gray hair was in Kira's face, Kira unable to remember the hug she was now in. "Let's get you inside." Poor thing. What have those rotten boys done this time? I'm going to speak with Mayor Bradley at once. This is outrageous. Oh did I leave the stove on?

Head leaking with too many thoughts and theories, Kira's neck was loose when she was brought into someone's arms, their strong muscles warm.

What happened? She's pale. Weak. Damn woman doesn't know how to run a restaurant without burning the place down everyday. She looks nice though. Shouldn't she be in class? After everything we've done for her and she's...
Maurice was supposed to be here already.
"Get me a towel!"

Kira knew the couple was only trying to help, but they were too much - too worried, too panicked, too caring.

blood, whyishebleeding?
"Call 911!"
colors are endless and blackness consumes

Kira could hear them and she could hear Nick before. She realized what it was. She realized that she had finally cracked like she thought she would.

propherheadup
shecantspeak
"Kira!"

*

shakingshakingshaking

*

Kira wouldn't wake for three days.

Kira

When the three days passed, Kira opened her eyes. Not to a hospital, as was expected. White walls, white sheets, tubes and needles. The place itself never bothered her, but the people did. Here though, blue walls, dark brown sheets, not tubes and definitely no needles. Her head ached as it stretched back into reality.

Soft buzzing circled around the back of her mind. At first, she wasn't sure what it meant. Then she remembered. She could hear thoughts. She could feel emotions.

And that's what was coming through the door.

"You're awake," the visitor said, surprised. A shocking, powerful bout of surprise. It struck her worse than any needle could, straight to the top of her spine. "Kira...how are you feeling?" She looks a mess. What happened to her? Maybe she can finally tell us and we can help.

Kira closed her eyes, ready to faint. Whatever food they had managed to get in her churned wildly in circles.

She's going to pass out again. They won't be able to questions her and they'll take her away.

When she registered the face as her father's, Kira couldn't put the thoughts to the man. He cared about her? What a load of bull. She rocked back and forth, trying to stay upright, but feeling the pillow at her back. She could close her eyes. Pass out. End the invasion of her father's lies.

His hands found hers, holding them tight. "Kira. Please, look at me."

"Mr. Nightingale?"

More voices out loud, inside. Kira tore her hands back and covered her ears. "Go away!" she shouted. She didn't hear her own words. Couldn't begin to start to know her own thoughts. Everything swam in blue walls and brown sheets, a strange ocean of otherness.

"Sedate her."

"Please! Don't! She's my daughter!"

"Mr. Nightingale we are taking your daughter into government custody-"

"She didn't do anything wrong!"

She left the bed, arm stinging, eyes rolling. She tasted iron again as clouds rolled in from the left, then the right, billowing bits of fluffy white. The blue walls disappeared.

"Kira, no!"

And it finally stopped. The pain. Her father's pain, wrapping around her mind like an itchy blanket. He'd never acted so desperate around her, around anyone. He'd always been the low life of the town. People felt sorry for Kira, but she refused that pity. She blamed her father for not loving her.

Perhaps she had been wrong.

--------

Three months later, Kira wiped a tear from her cheek, reliving the memory emotion by emotion. She sat at the round table, leaning to one side and holding six chairs. More of those chairs were about to be filled. As soon as she received the OK.

Speak of the devil.

Topher came in with the usual ratty hair, Hawaiian shirt and glasses. Holding a clipboard. "Here they are."

Kira stood up, pushing against his excitement in her mind. During the past months she had learned the basics of pushing emotions back, but still felt his eagerness seep into her own mind. She was smiling because of him, flipping the pages quickly and scanning because of him. A few years older and a computer genius. The guy was a legend, or would have been if their operation wasn't so dependent on secrecy.

"Wake up Liz," Kira told him. He scampered off in his six foot, lanky way, bringing his emotions with him.

Kira sank back into her chair, holding her head. She had read the names and locations, but only then could she fully feel her own panic about the mission. It was her first after all. Topher, Liz and Minnegan had found her weeks ago, but had given her time to adjust to their surroundings. Now she was "part of the team." Quite literally. Topher had ordered matching dark blue T-shirts. They didn't have a logo or slogan, but she knew what they represented.

Uniforms, costumes.

She pulled at the fabric against her. "Ugh."