Chapter Thirteen

It's a long one guys! Who's excited?!

Chapter Thirteen

"Zana?" A soft voice asks.

"Eh?" I say rolling over.

"I saw the news, are you okay?" T asks pushing my sleeves up.

"Just drained, and my calves are still slightly hardened, but I got most of it to go away," I say.

I had stopped at the apartment and gotten something to eat before going down to the warehouse district and releasing all of the pent-up energy I was holding. After that I came home and passed out, I needed to sleep.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not dinner, I'm sorry I didn't get it ready," I mumble.

"I think you have a decent excuse," T says pushing me into a sitting position.

"You need to wake up or you won't sleep tonight," T says, and I grumble.

Getting off the couch I do little things to help her in the kitchen without overexerting myself. The world gets a little hazy sometimes, but I manage to stay conscious and upright until dinner is served.

"You are all over the news Zana," T says amused pulling out her old smartphone.

Looking at the headlines on a few news apps she has, a very candid photo of me holding up the bus is the cover and top story for everyone. I read the details and see that my comment on the fact that I always take the bus managed to make its way to the news outlets, but nothing else. As complicated as my relationship is with the police, they never release important details about me to the media.

"Eh," I say handing the phone back.

"You caught the attention of M5," T says and that catches my attention.

"Pardon?"

"My brother called me today inquiring if I knew anything about Aegis. Metallica is leaving their team for personal reasons and they want to find Aegis," T says with a big smirk.

"Are you telling me, your brother, who is almost twice my age, is looking for me to join one of the biggest superhero teams in the world?" I ask dumbfounded.

"Yup, I didn't tell him anything though, I figured you could if you wanted to," T says.

"I'm glad you didn't, I don't plan on leaving, although that is very flattering," I say feeling a little cocky, but I push the sensation away.

"Zana they would put you through school if they found out your age," T says seriously.

"This is my home T, and some of the financial aid packages I am getting we could work with. I don't want to move to New York, I want to stay here," I say seriously.

"I understand," T says, and I see a little spark in her eye.

"You would miss me if I left," I say laughing and T smiles.

"You are the little sister I have always wanted," she says, and I smile.

"Are you going to go visit your dad one more time?" I ask her and she sighs.

"Somebody is picking me up in an hour and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. I have all hands on deck again, so don't worry. Will you be okay to go to school tomorrow?" T asks me and I sigh.

"I should be, I will probably pass out after dinner," I admit, and T nods.

"I won't disturb you," T says.

She makes good of her word; I pass out around nine o'clock and don't wake up until my seven am alarm goes off. Looking around confused, I feel very groggy from the sheer amount of sleep that I got, but I force myself off of the couch and into the shower. My calves had healed overnight, which I am very thankful for. I throw on the new outfit T bought me, and I grab my bag and head to school.

T's father awoke from his coma while T was there and is in slightly better health. He even has been checked out of the hospital, but he now has a nurse that lives with him full time. His cancer had started to shrink with a new medication that targets cancer cells specifically. Weeks fly by and I try to manage track, I've started practicing jumping hurdles, sparing with Mason, helping with the shelter and school.

Thanksgiving passes by easily and before I know it, the rest of the college decisions have come out. Going through the junk mail, I see a big envelope from the one culinary school I applied too. Ripping it open, I bounce up and down excited when I see I have been accepted. I grab my things and run down to the local library and check out the financial aid package I was given. Looking through the portal I see that they haven't given me as much as other schools, but I have the chance for a performance scholarship. What kind of performance scholarship would a culinary school have?

Clicking for more details, I see that they have a program where you can cook a meal for a panel of judges under certain time constraints and the judges rank the food, and scholarships are awarded accordingly. Sitting back in my chair, I process the information and decide immediately that this is something I wanted to do, I'm not sure why, but it feels right.

Clicking through the appointment spots, I find the latest one I could take is the end of February. I take the last seat in that one and write it down in my notebook. The whole ordeal would take about three hours and my time slot is from four to seven. Walking over to the shelter, I run into Agnes out front, almost literally.

"Hi sweetie, are you okay?" She asks me.

"I got into a culinary school that I have been looking into and I have a chance to get more scholarship money in a cooking test per se," I say.

"That's amazing Zana!" Agnes says hugging me.

"T doesn't know that I applied," I say, and Agnes looks confused.

"Why?"

"It was something I did last minute, but the longer I waited for their reply the more I realized how much I wanted to know their decision. I'm really interested in the school, but it is super expensive," I say.

"How expensive?" Agnes asks.

I recite some of the numbers to Agnes and she nods thoughtfully, and we have an in-depth conversation about the cost of the school. I mention how high the scholarship can go and the fact that my federal financial aid package still isn't fully finalized because I was a ward of the state for so long.

"I think you should try for the scholarship and see how far that takes you. We've talked about schools and such, but I've never quite seen that spark in your eye before," Agnes says.

"A friend mentioned it to me, and I thought maybe it would be worth pursuing," I admit.

"What would be worth pursuing?" T asks me, startling us.

"That nursing program," I blurt out. Agnes gives me a subtle side-eye.

"Yeah that was a little out of left field considering you are stronger in English and history," T says, and I nod.

"I was just trying to broaden my horizons," I say with a shrug.

"Whatever makes you happy," T says giving me a side squeeze before beckoning us both inside.

Days slip by and Agnes walks into the kitchen one day and slides me something. Wiping my hands off, I grab the book she handed me and see she bought me a cooking book with a set of two knives. Looking at her in confusion she smiles at me.

"You need to tell T about that test, but I figured a book and some better knives might help you prepare," she says before winking and walking away.

Mason volunteers in the kitchen with me occasionally over his winter break and it is nice having some company. Quickly school starts up again and I continue trying to build some kind of formal cooking skills before the test and I was getting better at chopping and baking.

"Where did you get that book?" T asks me, wandering into the kitchen one day as I am practicing.

"Oh, Agnes gave it to me for Christmas," I say.

"How have I not noticed that? Christmas was almost two months ago!" T says confused.

"I don't use it all the time but there is a recipe in here I wanted to use for this meat tonight because it isn't the greatest cut," I say and T sighs before sitting on the floor.

"What's wrong?" I ask her as I continue to practice my dicing skills.

"I'm just worn down," T says.

"I understand," I say quietly. I had to quit track a few weeks ago, I just couldn't do it all.

"Have you chosen a school yet?" T asks me curiously and I shake my head.

"Not yet," I reply.

I was waiting for this test, which is already next week. I had been practicing and cooking nonstop in order to prepare for this test. It still surprises me how badly I want to do well and be able to go to this school. T leaves me to finish cooking and everything smells delicious.

When T ducks out early, upon my insistence, I pull out my beaten phone and pull up a familiar number. Looking at it, I hesitate, I shouldn't be bothering him, he's a doctor for Pete's sake. My thumb stalls over the dial key but I take a deep breath and suck it up.

"Dr. Greyson Hayes speaking," Greyson's voice says through the line.

"Hi Greyson, it's Zana..."

"Zana! How have you been?" Greyson asks almost sounding cheery.

"I'm doing well, in the midst of sorting through college decisions. How are you?"

"I'm doing alright, what brings about your call?" Greyson asks me curiously.

"I was wondering if you could take T out to dinner one night and catch up," I say carefully.

"I would love to talk to my sister, but something tells me there is something else behind this request," Greyson says calling my bluff.

"I have this scholarship thing I need to do for a school I'm interested in, but I haven't told T because I don't want to disappoint her if I don't do well," I say slowly, choosing my words cautiously.

"That's a half-truth if I have ever heard one. When do you need me to take her out to dinner?" Greyson asks me and it is my turn to be surprised.

"Next Thursday, preferably early," I say.

"Like a six o'clock dinner?"

"Earlier if possible," I say biting my lip.

"What time is this scholarship opportunity?"

"It's from four to seven, T thinks I will be working out after school with a friend... but that will only buy me so much time," I say picking at my cuticles.

"Zana be straight with me. Is this an actual scholarship opportunity?"

"It's a performance test for a culinary school," I say quietly.

"Why wouldn't you tell T about this again?"

"T wants me to and make something of myself, she sees so much potential in me... I just feel like I would be letting her down saying I wanted to go to culinary school. Especially because the school is very expensive, part of the reason I am going for that scholarship," I babble.

"I think she would be proud of you for following your dreams, I know I'm proud of her for having the courage to go after hers," Greyson says softly.

"I will tell her, I promise, just after I get all the facts, i.e. my final scholarship package," I say firmly.

"I will surprise her and take her out to dinner, just arrange it so that the night shift people will come in early, so the shelter isn't unattended to," Greyson says.

"I shall,"

"Good luck Zana, I'm sure you will do great," Greyson says.

"Thanks, Greyson,"

We hang up the phone and I slide down the counter as my heart races away. I can't believe he agreed to this whole convoluted thing. I know I should just be upfront with T but every time I go to say something the words just die on my lips and I chicken out of it. I know she would support the career choice; it's just finding the money for the school that is keeping me from telling her.

The days tick by slowly and I continue to memorize recipes and try to prep, and I can tell that T is starting to get suspicious of my behavior, but I just smile and try to play it off. Sleeping the night before is almost unbearable and I barely get two hours of sleep. I wear my one good outfit to school and don't focus the whole day.

As the final bell rings for school, I grab my things and all but run out of the building. I have exactly half an hour to get to the culinary school on foot. I have timed the walk and it usually takes me a little over half an hour, but I push myself and even run short bursts to get there quicker. When I arrive, I see I have three minutes to spare. Following the instructions, I walk through the door at exactly four o'clock and see that everyone else is already here.

Taking a seat at the only empty table, a chef walks in almost right after me. Her smile could deceive most people, but I can see the calculating look in her eyes. She addresses all of us and explains how this would work.

We all would receive a basket with all the ingredients we could use in there. We could use any tools or spices available in the room, but we would be given no formal recipe. Our job is to take the food provided and create a meal for the five judges. We have to use all of the food in our baskets as well. We would be given two and a half hours to do so, once the time is up, we would each be given five-minute slots for tasting. Looking around I see five other people in the room.

Walking up and grabbing my basket, I take it back to my table and sit and wait for everyone else to grab there's. When the timer finally is started, I rip the cloth of my basket and see a massive butternut squash, some sweet potatoes, three apples, a large onion, and a clove of garlic. Pausing for a moment I try to think of how to incorporate the apples into my recipe. I couldn't think of a single recipe that would help and that is the moment I let go.

Grabbing a large, pot, and all of the other ingredients, tools, that I would need I get to work starting to cook. Throwing the onion into the pot, I douse it in olive oil and get lost in the rhythm of peeling and chopping everything. Throwing everything into the pot, I opt for soup, my favorite thing. Grabbing the apple cider vinegar and apple juice off of the counter, I put in two cups of the vinegar, and one of the apple juice, before turning on the pot. Stirring everything, I notice that something is hiding in the fold of the cloth. Leaving the soup be, I tug the cloth straight out and grab a piece of paper from the basket.

'Mystery Item,' it says.

Walking up to the front of the room, I show the slip of paper to the chef and she smiles at me before pointing me out the door. Giving her a confused look, I can hear the other people scrambling in the room. Looking at the table that wasn't there before, I see five items on the table. Glancing at them quickly, I see two pieces of meat, a piece of ginger and some broccoli, and two other foods I don't recognize. Grabbing the ginger and broccoli off the plate I walk back in and give the chef a look. She smiles at waves me back to my station.

Checking my soup, things are starting to cook down. I don't have enough broth, so I whip up a vegetable stock from one of the things available on shelves and add that in before pondering what do with ginger, a clove of garlic, my left-over olive oil, and two heads of broccoli.

I cut the ginger up finely and add it to the soup. Checking the timer, I see I have a little over an hour left. Washing the broccoli carefully, I wonder if I played it too safe with my choice of extra food's, well I can't back out now. Grabbing a few things from the fridge I will need like heavy cream and I find a lemon. Shrugging I walk over to my station and preheat my oven before chopping all of the florets down to smaller pieces, I cover them in olive oil, salt, freshly ground pepper and I mince the garlic and sprinkle it on top. Squeezing the lemon on top I throw it in the oven at 450° and start blending the soup with a little hand blender I found.

As everything evens out, I add some paprika and the cream and blend it all together. Tasting it, it seems quite sweet, and like it is missing something. Looking at the massive wall of seasonings, I see the curry and decide to toss in a little bit and notice an immediate flavor difference. Sprinkling some red pepper flakes, I remember the broccoli and dart across the kitchen in a panic. Taking the broccoli, I notice that it looks a little overdone. Sighing I start pouring the soup into bowls as the clock ticks down to a minute.

Plating the broccoli on five separate plates, I cover everything just as the time goes off. Looking around I see that two of the people didn't finish their meals, they weren't even out of their pots and pans

"Zana Black you will be judged first, everyone else please leave the room and head down to the waiting room. Zana, please bring your food up to the front table," the chef says as the four other chefs file in and take their seats.

Walking the food over slowly, I set each person's food down at a time before taking a few steps back. They lift the lids and plates off of everything and the room is filled with the smell of butternut squash soup. I thought it tasted nice and creamy before I plated it, but anxiety starts consuming. I have been shot at and I am scared of what a few judges have to say?

"Tell us about your dish Zana,"

"Well, I was presented with butternut squash, apples, and some sweet potatoes. I decided to turn it into a soup and opted to add my extra element of ginger to it to enhance the flavor. I also added some curry and red pepper flakes to balance the naturally sweet flavor of the soup. I also was given broccoli for my extra element and with the garlic, I had left, I made garlic broccoli with a hint of lemon. I tossed it into the oven at a pretty high heat so it would have a nice crunch to balance the soup," I spit out. I had been practicing that for the last hour.

An unearthly silence fills the room as all of the chefs in front of me dig into their soup. I watch them carefully and try to analyze their expressions as they take notes. A few of them take a few more sips of the soup then I expected and some even dip the broccoli into the soup. They all write down some notes and I drop my gaze to the floor.

"Thank you, Zana, you will receive a letter in the mail in a few weeks with your final financial aid package from the school. It will also be posted in your portal. You can leave your dishes and grab your things. Have a wonderful day," the one chef says.

"Thank you," I say before grabbing my backpack off of the floor and leaving.

Walking out of the building I pass the silent room where everyone else is waiting to present their food. The clacking of shoes tells me someone is behind me and I hear the chef call for another person. Walking outside, it is dark, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. Dialing Mason, the phone rings, and I wonder if he's busy with work.

"Hey Zana," Masons says with a mouthful.

"Hey, I just finished my performance cooking scholarship test," I say.

"How did it go?"

"I thought it tasted great and nobody vomited or made a face when they tried it," I say walking towards home.

"I mean I guess that's good," he says with a laugh.

"It was strange, but I'm nervous to hear back," I admit.

"I'm sure you did fantastically," Mason says.

"I need the full scholarship in order to afford the school," I say quietly.

"Don't dwell on it, okay? It will only make it worse," Mason says.

"I think I'm going to go do rounds now," I say.

"Don't you have homework?" Mason asks taking another bite of his dinner.

"I can do it all at home," I say before we hang up.

Stopping to change into my old sweatshirt and pulling on my mask, I make my nightly rounds and achieve a bunch of small things. I sit by I.E.I for almost an hour and just circle the building making sure that Viro isn't lurking. Low and behold just as I am about to leave, I see a flash of silver. Jumping to the next rooftop, I see him making his way towards the side of the building. He pauses and just lurks in the shadows.

Sliding down a fire escape, I land as lightly as possible and keep slightly out of his vision. The bell on the front door dings and Viro starts stalking his pray as I dart after him. He starts closing in on the man, who takes off running. Increasing my speed and strength, I let out a deep breath before tackling Viro to the ground. He immediately flings around, and I roll off of him and place myself in-between him and the retreating man.

"Are you kidding me? When did you get strong enough to tackle me?" Viro asks annoyed, there is no calculating look in his eyes, just one of sheer rage.

"I've been working out," I say calmly.

He charges towards me and I sidestep and try to trip him, but he takes me to the ground with him. Wriggling around underneath of him he pins my one arm, but I smash my hand into his face, over and over again until he eases up on his grasp. Ripping my second arm out of his grasp, I shove him off of me and we both scramble to our feet.

"You won't ever see my face again as long as I can take that one man out," he growls stepping closer.

"I vowed to protect the people of this city!"

"Do you have that why yet?" He asks me with that smart-ass grin.

Grabbing him by the arm I go to practice flipping him as Mason taught, but Viro isn't stupid. He counters my move easily and my arm strains at an awkward angle and I easily slip away. Once the strain is off, my arm feels fine again as we square off. He takes a big step and swings at me, which I block. Grabbing him by the neck, he throws another punch to my side, which I eat.

"You think you can choke me out?" He questions through a strangled tone.

"I don't need to," I say.

Releasing the energy in my hand, a strange sensation occurs as the hardened underside of my hand blows up on his neck. The energy blast doesn't force us apart because my grip is so strong, but the continuous punches force me back and I trip over the curb and hit the ground.

"You'll pay for this," he growls holding his throat. The crystals had imbedded themselves into his neck. A faint trail of blood is also visible.

Pulling out a gun he shoots at my three times and I can't move quickly enough, unfortunately. One hits my knee and I see stars. By the time I can get to my feet, he's gone. Looking at my hand a strange sensation is coursing through it. Trying to walk, my whole kneecap is crystalized over. Releasing the energy built up from that, I collapse to the ground.

It takes me a very long time to get home, I pull my mask off halfway home and shove it in my pocket. Walking through the door and I nearly fall over when I see Greyson sitting on the couch talking to T. Her head swivels towards me and there is a fire in her eyes. Swallowing, I close the door behind me.

"Hi Greyson," I say playing confused.

"Hello Zana," he says smiling at me.

"Where the hell have you been? You never went to the shelter today," T all but growls at me.

"There is a rumor that we are having a history pop quiz tomorrow, so I called Agnes and went and studied at the library for a few hours," I say.

"And after that?"

"I went and spared with Mason," I say giving her a hard look.

"Is there any reason you haven't been answering my texts or calls? I called you three times!"

"I'm out of minutes, I have one text too," I say, and T sighs.

"Go shower," she orders me, and I give Greyson a concerned look and he winks at me.

"Fine, just relax already," I grumble walking away.

"You worried me, Zana," T says in a softer tone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I had run out of minutes until I was in the library," I say.

"We'll refill your minutes and texts tomorrow after we leave the shelter," T says.

"Thank you," I say before hopping in the shower.

I don't sleep that night; this awful sensation fills me, and I constantly feel like I am in motion. Rolling over at around five am, I resist the urge to scream. Smashing my hand into the couch, the burning sensation in my hand won't stop. Growling I resist the urge to rip the entire couch in half and instead get up and grab ice from the freezer and sit on the counter and ice my hand down. Dozing off on the counter I am startled by T.

"What is going on Zana? I could hear you tossing and turning all night," T says, taking the now melted ice from me.

"I ran into Viro last night," I grumble.

"Did he hurt you?" She asks inspecting my perfectly fine hand.

"I gripped him by the throat and released the energy pent up in the crystals on the palm side of my hand, but now my hand won't stop burning. Every time I start to doze off, this sensation of motion consumes me and startles me awake. It's almost as if those crystals are still connected to me," I say with a sigh.

"Is that possible?"

"You are asking me like I have half a clue how these powers work," I reply.

"Maybe you should stay home from school today and try to relax, you can come down to the shelter if you need to get out, but I don't think sitting behind a desk is going to do you any good," T says, and I have to agree.

"Thank you for understanding," I say.

"Go try to rest, you can sleep in my bed if you want," T offers, but she knows I won't take it.

"Thanks," I say before collapsing onto the couch.

The sensation of moving still consumes me and I just lay there letting it happen for a while before it starts to almost become rhythmic. Images start appearing before me and I try to move my body, but it is unresponsive. Am I dreaming?

"Watch closely Zaneliah," a beautiful woman says.

Watching her dark arms carefully, she plucks a few crystals off of her arm and holds them in her palms. Her crystals are black and remind me of my own. She mumbles a few things and presses the shards together and a faint light, that is almost grey, radiates from her hands.

Her palms part and the small fragments have been combined and she pulls me closer and I touch the stone and know where the person this is connected to is located. Things start to become blurry and my body starts to shake.

"Zaneliah!" A shrill voice screams.

"No, don't you touch her!"

A shrill scream echo's in my mind causing me to bolt up completely covered in sweat. Looking at my hand, I uncurl my clenched fingers and see a black stone just like the one I saw in the dream. Holding the stone tight, the sensation of movement radiates from it and I drop it. My entire body is trembling as the image of the woman fades from my memories. I grab a pen and paper and try to remember the contours of the woman's face, but the memory is almost gone.

"Fragments missing from me, unify," I write down.

An uneasy feeling forms in the pit of my stomach as my body starts to calm down some. The sweating starts to ease up and my heart rate starts to drop. Grabbing my phone off of the table, I see it is almost noon now. Staring at the stone on the floor, I carefully pick it up and put it on the table. Laying back down, I try to rest some more but the strange word keeps floating around in my head.

Zanelilah

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