Harridan

In English they finally concluded Dorian Grey, and it was only when Dr Eggman said that a lot of things were ending, did it dawn on Kieran that, that day was her last soccer practice as a New Bristol lion and next week would be the last game as a lion too. The thought sent shivers down her spine. After that, Kieran would be a Princeton tiger. Another wave of shivers ran down her spine, this time, bile rose in her throat too. Kieran shook her head then combed her curls out of her face, biting her lower lip hard.

Kieran ventured up the stairs while packing away her prescribed read. In AP French, Mr. Beaumont already had his projector up and running with the slideshow waiting. “Bonne journée,” he greeted his slow entering class. Kieran folded her arms and sat in the back, buried behind her copy of J’ai Soif de Connaissances, the anthology. The olive-toned teacher turned off his lights. "Today, we will be watching a series of videos on influences of beauty and art. I want you to pay close attention to how the interviewees in this one describe the music they play and the music they listen to."

Mr. Beaumont's classes were a personal favourite; perhaps it was a bias. During her time at Franklin Abbott Special-Needs School, Kieran studied French as well as Sign Language. Why she ever went there was something only Magnolia knew; Kieran had a language delay. Speech delay can be a challenging condition for children, but it does not necessarily require special schooling. In many cases, such as hers, speech therapy and early intervention helped her overcome the speech difficulties and catch up with her peers.

Her time there wasn't all bad; her desk was bean-shaped and too big for one person, but she had it all to herself. There was a lot of play time and toy-interaction therapy. Kieran also got a lot of time to practice piano and play with super expensive therapy toys! All with the aim of progressing her language developmental milestones. As one of very, very few language-disable students there, she was alone a lot. And that all changed in grade three when she was introduced to New Bristol Elementary and met the sunshine spirit in Blaine Sulkin.

The rest of the day passed in a blur and Kieran fell in step with Veronica Day, the captain of the girls' soccer team. Carefully Kieran put the Converse high-tops Anna picked out that morning into her duffle bag to put on her brand-new black cleats. By the wall behind Kieran, Ms. Campbell was typing away frantically. The wall was painted with the mascot, Roary the Lion, in the school colours - a blue and white argyle sleeveless sweater. Ms. Campbell stood under Roary’s meaty paw that made slashes on the wall.

Kieran shut her locker and joined the rush for their conventional warm-up. While Ms. Campbell was busy on her phone, Veronica led the team through warm-ups and drills with the boys' team. The girls lined up for shooting rounds against Layla in goal. Sometime around there, Ms. Campbell joined Mr. Burgundy with her clipboard. Kieran came to the cone and blasted the ball. Layla dove and caught in her chest with her arms around it. Kieran huffed then circled to the back for her next round. Her pitch-black curls were tightened into a sporty ponytail that retained its elegant bounce.

Their usual forty-five-minute game commenced with Mr. Burgundy and Ms. Campbell playing both referees and coaches, per the norm. Mr. Burgundy blew his whistle sharply then held up a yellow card to Charlie R for tripping Malcolm. Then again when Logan grabbed Marie. They were both laughing about it, but the teachers took it seriously.

After their practice, the score was 3-2 to the girls which gave some more optimism for their game that was to come. Drenched in sweat, Layla gathered Kieran into a hug and didn’t let go. No matter how much she struggled against her. She laughed and buried Kieran into her sweaty armpit. She finally got free and shoved Layla in the chest. The black in Kieran's nails dripped onto her fingers. She whipped away and balled her fingers into fists.

Layla picked up her water bottle and took a long sip from it but was eyeing Kiera in confusion. “Lions, in a circle around me,” Mr. Burgundy ordered with Ms. Campbell beside him. Both the boys’ and girls’ team obeyed with Cameron glancing at Marie. “We just want to thank you all for this season. To our freshman players, you’ve rightfully earned your spot on the team. To our seniors, you’ve loyally served the team. Everyone in between, you’ve served us well too. Coach Campbell and I are equally proud of each and every one of you.”

“So, for the last time, this year, hands in lions,” Ms. Campbell ordered.

They all piled their hands into the middle of the group to do their war cry. “Lions! Mess with the roar! You get the paw! Roar!” The two teams whooped and cheered in gratitude for the season and their coaches.

The two teams adjourned and went their ways to conclude their business. Kieran pursed her lips as she got ready to leave the emptying locker room. Kieran was one of the first ones out, walking speedily out. She threw her Evanescence hoodie over her plain, black blouse. She lugged her helmet through the school with her duffle bag when making out the main doors. In the senior parking, Kieran paused at her bike. Blaine was in deep conversation with Principal Avery, half laughing at his jokes while walk with him to his beat-up, old Camaro.

Blaine gave a great wave across the lot and Kieran sounded her bike's horn. She slammed on her helmet before whizzing off passed them. The black motorcycle whirred down Washington Boulevard - the Street lined with the New Bristol Sports Association - and passed the portion of the woods fenced off for bowhunting. Kieran took the slipway onto Old Bridge Road. Looking at her side mirrors, Kieran saw the serene trees she left behind.

The trees were blossoming and green and the marked beech tree was larger. The Ninja stalled nearby, and Kieran felt butterflies in her stomach. "Okay," she began to herself as she removed her helmet. "You can shoot balls, now. Which is both impressive and terrifying," she breathed.

Kieran set her helmet on her handle then strolled across the property, admiring the amazing scene she grew up with. A pity her grandfather never saw the place: the outlying trees of New Bristol; the thrill of living off the wilds, the way he and Doreen always talked about; the river, where Doreen and Kieran would go fishing; learning to forage; the works. That petite cottage that was once grey stone and was now covered in moss, and jasmine that filled the air. Kieran reminisced about her weekends there, away from feeling like an outcast; even at a special-needs school.

Doreen would wake up extra early on a Saturday morning to get the fire going for breakfast. While bacon and mushrooms frying over the fire, she would go foraging for herbs and fruits and go gather water. Kieran would get out of bed and almost exclusively be kicking around Marcel's soccer ball and sneakily eating at the bacon. Then Doreen would return and fry the eggs and play with her blue fire, showing Kieran how to play with the shadows.

One winter, Magnolia was covering a story outside town. Kieran didn't really remember what it was, but Norfolk County Police was involved. Kieran was roasting marshmallows under her thick parka and the tartan blanket over that, and Doreen kept fueling the fire. Kieran was looking at the flickering shadows on their picnic blanket. The shadows coiled around their cauldron of soup. The soup bubbled and when Kieran sneezed, the soup splattered everywhere.

Kieran ventured to the darkest part of the woods on the property; a thick cluster of pine trees - not far from the meadow - that blocked out the sun completely. Kieran breathed out then shrugged out her shoulders. She stripped off her motorcycle jacket and her hoodie and set them against the rotting log in front of her. She shook her hands out and shrugged her shoulders before stepping away from the log.

She held out her hands and exhaled her restraint. Shadows creeped down her fingers, towards her palms. "This is Kieran's video journal, part one," she said to her recording phone. "I've been this way, apparently, since I was born. According to my grandmother, these... gifts... are called capabilities and manifest differently. I've been doing this since I was about four. It was hardly ever more than the shadows just radiating off me, but I now, I have the shadow ball projection ability from Spirit + Synergy."

Kieran rubbed her hands on her jeans then effortlessly formed a ball that hovered in her hands. Kieran swayed her hands side to side, pushing and pulling the ball as a result. Kieran hurled the wispy ball upwards, watching it briefly vanishing among the dark green before falling back. A stream of penumbra was left behind. Kieran found the darkness to be intangible when it fell right through her hands. She reformed her ball then looked back at her phone.

"I don't know what I am," Kieran went on without looking away from the wispy ball, "I don't know how many are out there; I don't know if we should be afraid of what we are. I just know that, as of late, this is all I have left of my grandmother. The property was sold, so her cottage, the meadow, all the memories here..."

Kieran watched the tendrils blow about in the weak breeze. A car engine nearby snapped her concentration. The car also weakened the ball. Kieran listened tentatively to the car, exactly like how Doreen taught her to listen for animals whenever they went bowhunting. The ball died out. Kieran shut her eyes to focus on her hearing on the car. She heard car over the gravel before the woods went silent. Kieran grabbed her jacket and hoodie and phone.

Hearing the car only made the harsh realisation that much more enraging; the property belonged to someone else. Kieran through on her hoodie then returned down the way she came. Her jacket was scrunched in one hand upon approach towards the cottage and the white Mercedes Benz convertible. The neatly dressed man in a grey suit was taken aback by her casually crossing the land.

"I'm sorry, this's private property," he stated but Kieran didn't desist off her course. "Can I help you?"

Kieran swept her curls aside as she approached him. "My grandmother was the previous owner," she replied. "I was just..."

She looked down at her jacket then exhaled. "Oh, you're Magnolia's kid," he asked. Kieran looked back at him. "Aaron. Aaron Almánzar, I'm the agent." Kieran only looked at his outstretched hand. "Just saying goodbye?" Kieran's dark eyes turned towards the jasmine-covered cottage. Aaron regarded her in pity when she gave a weak nod. "Well, I just came to get my sign. I'll be out of your way."

"Who bought the place?"

Aaron laced his fingers behind his back then looked back to her. "The buyer wishes to remain anonymous," he answered. "Sorry."

"They're really going to have their hands full with this house."

"How do you mean?"

"No water, no electricity. The only heating is the tiled roof and the windows," she replied. Aaron folded his arms and tilted his head at her. "Did 'your buyer' not notice there're no switches or faucets? Or a bathroom?" His lips were moving but no words came out. "Did you?"

"A-actually, I never got a chance to look at the place. The moment it was on the market, the buyer called and bought it, as is. Furniture and all."

Kieran breathed in the jasmine's perfume, simultaneously admiring the vines' unkempt lattices. "Lucky them," she replied in earnest albeit the frown on her full face. That was her final word before retreating onto her bike and left Aaron to his vices.

The road home was heavy with Kieran knowingly leaving Old Bridge Road for the last time. The homes on Stirling Lane were nothing to sneeze at, with most residents working expensive white-collar jobs. Stirling Lane has been known primarily as an affluent location within greater New Bristol, which corresponds to higher property values in the area. The neighbourhood is well known for its Little Fifth Avenue shopping district that includes many local designer brands, like Signature.

James' grandiose house made her deflate when she pulled up to the automatic gate. The short stretch of driveway was shrouded in trees and shrubs before the house came into view. The driveway wen passed the front of the house and passed it towards the garage. Kieran led herself through the front doors to be hit by the lavender that still managed to catch her off guard whenever she entered.

One man - an unmarried, childfree man - lived alone in a house with seven bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a library, a pool house with two more bedrooms, and a three-car garage. A house that more often than not, was empty with only Anna for company. A short, plump, and kindly-looking woman with grey seeping into her chocolatey hair. Anna wore her trademark jacket and matching pencil skirt - this one was royal blue - and she was drying the pot that had James' pork roast from the previous night in it.

"Hey, honey," she greeted and Kieran couldn't help but smile. "How was soccer?"

"Bittersweet," Kieran admitted.

"I can imagine." Anna returned the pot to his drawer, next to the stove. "But you're ready for the game, next week?" Kieran shrugged a single shoulder. "I'll be there, cheering you on until you're red with embarrassment." Anna combed the curls behind the ever-covered ears. "Anything exciting happen today?"

"No."

"Any requests for lunch?"

"Hm. Ham and cheese? I can make it myself, if you--"

"I got it. And you have dirty laundry in the sweaty thing," Anne pointed out, gesturing to the duffle bag. "And don't forget to air it out." Kieran pursed her lips and nodded. She felt slightly better then backed away, out of the kitchen. "Hold it," Anna sang as she set the cheese on the island. She crossed the kitchen and took Kieran by the shoulders. "Honey, you should tell Magnolia and James about those letters. What if you get hurt?"

Kieran bit her lower lip and weighed her options. "Why haven't you told them?"

"Because you're an adult," Anna countered. "Because I know how infuriating it is to still be treated like a child. I was just so, so overbearing with my son." Anna hugged herself then laced her fingers together. "He was a bit of a loner too, but I pushed and pushed and pushed and..." Her hands slithered up her arms and she hugged herself, tearing up. "I drove him so far and he... he jumped." Kieran's lips parted and Anna gave a shaky exhale. "Markus and I divorced because of that. He's blamed me since. That's why I want you to be upfront with me. That's why I want to know where your lines are."

"I'm really sorry, Anna."

"He was just older than you when he..." She wiped her tears then blinked rapidly. "You should tell them." Anna swallowed hard then added, "when I bring lunch, I'll come do the laundry too."

"Anna..."

"Finals are around the corner," the housekeeper deflected. "Go on. Just because you're already in Princeton doesn't mean you get to rest on your laurels."

Kieran was dead silent, leaning against the tree trunk, silent as a mouse. She had her hand covering her mouth to suppress her laughter. The trees were quiet too; too quiet. A twig snapped and she gasped softly. Kieran soundlessly tiptoes away from where the twig snapped. An arrow shot into her shoulder. An ear-splitting scream escaped her. Kieran dropped to the floor, squealing and crying from her bleeding arm. Doreen strolled up to her - wholly unbothered - with her bow in hand. Kieran sobbed on the damp ground. Doreen gripped the arrow and yanked it out. "Found you!"

Kieran covered her wound then sat up. With her injured hand, she signed. Ow! Doreen rolled her eyes. It hurts, gran!

"What mistake did you make?" Kieran only pouted at her. Doreen handed over some gauze from her hip quiver and allowed her six-year-old to tend to her own injuries. "You did exactly what an animal would do," Doreen jeered. "I've seen deer with more gumption than that." Kieran took her top off to clean the wound. "Good, good. That's it, my little Rambo."

Kieran's eyes opened and - instead of the New Bristol Wood's greenery and the sky above - was the grey and pink sterile bedroom and the hanging light. "Ahem," Magnolia called from the door. "Dinner."

The soccer player rubbed her eyes as she waddled towards the kitchen. She and Magnolia were quiet on the stairs and even when they walked into the kitchen, where James and Anna were working like a well-oiled machine. Kieran wordlessly slumped into her seat, yawning. A hand brushed against the scar where Doreen's arrow pierced her, all those years ago. Their twisted game of hide-and-seek, thankfully, ended with little life-threatening injuries. The worst was Kieran shooting an arrow right through Doreen's lower leg, when she was thirteen.

The memory, along with the kitchen's ambient conversation was snuffed when the echoing doorbell rang. "I got it," Anna cheered then briefly vanished. James set the dinner plates before Magnolia and Kieran and at his own seat. His fettucine alfredo looked amazing! Anna returned with her face contorted in confusion. "Kieran? It's for you," she stated handing over the A4 brown envelope.

Kieran tilted her head as she opened it. "Another university," Magnolia asked. Kieran shook her head with a growing crease in her eyebrows. "What is it?"

James tilted his head to catch a glimpse of the bold wording on top. "It's a deed," he asked more than stated.

Magnolia snatched the documents right from her daughter. "Gimme," she yelled. Her eyes looked over the contents in scrutiny. "The address on here is Doreen's cottage," Magnolia directed to James. Magnolia began to page through it, only for a folded note to fall out. The familiar paper made Kieran's blood run cold. Shamelessly Magnolia read it: "My dearest Kieran, I know how much your grandmother's property meant to you. As a token of my affection, I not only return the property to you but I have also paid it up so you don't need to worry about it. A Well-Wisher." Magnolia's disgust looked to Kieran's awe and Kieran looked to Anna's widened eyes. "What the Hell is this!"

Anna gave an egging expression, but Kiren dropped her eyes to her plate. Her eyes drifted to the envelope, and she resumed fishing in it. From the brown envelope, Kieran unearthed the distinct keys to that grey door. Kieran couldn't help but look to her prime suspect of the letters: James. "Did you do this?"

"Me? No. I have no idea about this," he replied, taking the envelope. "There's no return address, postage stamp, area code, nothing. Anna, who delivered this?"

"A courier."

"Kieran, be honest with me. Do you have a sugar daddy," Magnolia pressed.

"Evidently," she retorted. Kieran took the note to see the familiar handwriting that came from this benefactor. "The cottage is really mine, now," she whispered, grinning.

"No," Magnolia bellowed. "I'm calling the police!"

"None of this would've happened if you hadn't sold it, in the first place."

"Kieran, you're not keeping it! That's final!"

"It was never yours to sell."

"I'm the parent here, and I say--"

"The fact that you have to remind yourself of that just proves you're not really a parent."

Magnolia jumped to her feet, towering across the glass table and glaring daggers at Kieran. "Choose your next words very, very carefully," the journalist warned loudly.

Smoothly Kieran stood to match the gesture. "Putting me in special-ed was overcompensating for what a God-awful mother you know you are." Anna covered her mouth and watched Kieran take off.