Page 2 of The Mist of Stars
If I’m being honest, a part of me is unsure what I want to do. Sometimes I dream of simply floating away to the stars?—
“Gemma!” my mother shouts again. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah!” I yell back then throw off the covers as I sit up and lower my feet to the floor. I stretch and yawn before standing up and heading over to my closet.
My room is fairly spacious, with nice furniture and decorated in purple, which is my favorite color. My eyes are a bit lighter than the shade of purple that I prefer, but I like my eye color. Although, it’s a totally uncommon and alarming color, and I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like mine, except my dad, but his are a bit more grayish-purple. I kind of like the uniqueness of mine. Well, for the most part. There have been times when I’ve been teased about them, but it’s usually easy to shrug off. One time being an exception to this.
Alex.
Stop thinking about him! What is wrong with you?
Shaking my head at my thoughts, I grab a gray crop top, high-waisted baggy jeans, and my favorite pair of Converse sneakers. Once I’m dressed, I pull my long brown hair into a ponytail, dab on some lip gloss, frame my eyes with a hint of liner, then grab my bag and head out.
The house my family lives in is old but fixed up. It’s a quaint, two-story brick home that is located in the center of the town where the Keeper Academy is located. Almost everyone who lives in the area is a keeper, and the population is on the lower side. There are other towns that have other academies, but myparents have lived here all their lives, just as their parents had, and so on and so on. I’ve heard them mention a few times that they want me to follow in their footsteps. The problem is, I’m not so sure I want to. I feel this itching desire to go see other places. I’m not positive what those places are, but I feel like I belong somewhere else.
It’s an odd feeling, for sure; one I can’t shake, and one I have no clue what to do with.
“Good morning, my beautiful daughter,” my mother greets me as I wander into the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. She has the same color hair as mine, but hers is shorter, and she’s wearing a pantsuit, which means she probably has a council meeting to attend this morning.
My father is cooking breakfast and is in the middle of flipping over pancakes. He’s wearing comfy pants and a T-shirt, an indicator that he’s staying home today. Not that he won’t be busy. My father takes care of a lot of the house and family stuff, and he’s also a foreseer, so he spends time mediating; otherwise, the visions can become too much and he risks going crazy. It’s happened a few times over the course of history, especially when someone possesses the foreseer power along with another one.
Since my dad is both a keeper and a foreseer, he has to work to keep his mind and inner eye center. I’ve often wondered what it’s like to have the ability to see the future. He rarely uses the gift, however, because, according to him and many other foreseers, “looking into the future is a dangerous game that could lead to a disastrous butterfly effect,” so they only peer into crystal balls when absolutely necessary.
I wish I could do it, mostly for selfish reasons, like, to see what my future actually holds. Since I don’t possess the inner eye, though, I have to settle for a magic 8 ball, and mine’s a freaking asshole, always giving me the answer:ask again later.
I think it might be broken. Or maybe I am …
“Gemma, did you hear anything I just said?” My mom’s voice tugs me from my thoughts.
“Hmm …?” I stare at her stupidly.
She sighs in that way that reveals I’m tiring her—story of my life, let me tell you. “I asked if you have classes all day today.”
I head over to grab a pancake from the plate on the counter. “No, but I’m doing stuff with Aislin after morning classes.” And by stuff, I mean witch stuff.
On top of my best friend being a keeper, she’s also a witch and has all sorts of cool powers. My mother is wary about me helping Aislin mess around with spells and stuff, so I don’t tell her what we’re actually doing, and that’s attempting to cast a love spell. Not that I believe it will succeed—Aislin’s spells usually only work fifty percent of the time—but it’s fun trying because we get to travel to a supply store that’s out of town.
“Doing what?” She starts to interrogate me.
I internally sigh. Here she goes again, treating me like a kid instead of an eighteen-year-old about to graduate and go out on her own.
“Just stuff,” I reply vaguely, then add, “Cute guy stuff.” See? I can be truthful. I’m just leaving out some details.
“What?” Dad snaps his head in my direction. “What does that mean?”
I smile sweetly at him then stuff half the pancake into my mouth without putting syrup on it. “I’m late for school. Gotta go.” I hurry toward the front door.
“Gemma,” my mom calls out as I pull the door open. “Remember we have that dinner thing later tonight. You’re expected to be there.”
I grimace, but call out, “Okay.” Then I rush out the door and step outside before they can bombard me with more questions.
Shaking my head, I start down the stairs. This dinner thing tonight is going to suck big time. It’s at the council building withthe council members and their families. Aislin will be there, so at least there’s that.
Speaking of which … Aislin’s cherry red Jeep Wrangler is parked in the driveway. Since the weather is warm and the sun is shining in the crystal-clear blue sky, she has the windows down, and the music playing from the stereo is kind of loud. She doesn’t even notice me until I open the passenger door.
“Dude, you scared the ever-living pixies out of me,” she says as she turns the volume down a smidgeon. Her short, dark hair is curled, her makeup flawless, and she’s wearing a blue dress and matching heels.
Aislin and I are the opposite, and yet that works for us. We just clicked from the moment we met and have been best friends ever since. I’m grateful for her because I sometimes have a hard time making friends.