The Forgotten Island

CHAPTER ONE:

ARYA

-Arya-

“The seaweed is always greener

In somebody’s elses lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor”

I tapped the snooze button on my phone for the third time, the lyrics of “Under the Sea” fading away. The Little Mermaid had always been one of my favorite movies growing up as a child, so it seemed natural that I used one of the songs for my alarm. I turned over, throwing my thick blanket up over my head and thinking back on the dream I had been pulled from. I had been in a serious lip-lock situation with a boy who was arguably the epitome of physical perfection, or at least at my school he was. Blake Fischer, a fellow senior at my high school, with short blonde hair and inescapable blue eyes, had been holding me close as we kissed; his breathe hot upon my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine and making my knees weak. After hitting snooze two more times, I begrudgingly slid out of bed and got ready for school. I showered quickly and chose a modest outfit of jeans and a green t-shirt which read “Sometimes I Wet My Plants”. I finished the look with a swipe of mascara on my lashes and some slightly tinted lip gloss. I gave my appearance a once-over in the mirror, making sure I was satisfied with what I saw.

I was short, coming in at a whopping 5′1, with wide hips and a slim waist. The combination made it almost impossible to find pants that fit me correctly. They ended up either being too long, or too baggy around my waist while being tight on my thighs. I had invested in softball belts in almost every color since they were adjustable and stretchy, helping to keep gapes above by backside controlled. My hair fell to the middle of my back in dark brown waves, and like today, I usually wore it up in a messy bun. My breasts were on the smaller side, a fact I didn’t help by regularly wearing restricting bralettes instead of push-up bras. Slipping on a pair of white sneakers, I began to think of the day ahead. School was difficult for me, as I was a bit of an understatement in human form, not that I wanted to be. Every child was born with powers over one element which manifested during puberty. The abilities were genetic and so fairly easy to predict. Many religions believed that mankind was gifted with our powers from old gods back when civilization first began. Of course, modern science and inventions made our powers mostly for show since technology took care of almost everything these days. I was unlucky enough to be one of the few earth-born at my high school, Wayward High, a fact which got me little positive attention from my peers. There was no wow factor in growing a flower when others could control fire, wind, or even water. I had the ability to grow almost any plant, to mold and shape them to my will; and yet I would give it all up in a heartbeat to have the power to wield fire. The fire-born at my school were all in the popular crowds; they knew everyone, did whatever they wanted, and had an attitude that dared anyone to tell them otherwise. Even the teachers looked the other way when a fire-born did something against school rules; and of course, there was Blake, dreamy fire-born Blake. If I could control fire I am sure he would look my way in the halls

“Arya!!”

My mother yelling my name from downstairs brought me back to reality. Crap, am I late? Of course I’m late, I am always late. Swinging my backpack over my shoulders, I vaulted over my bed and out my bedroom door. My sister Renee side eyeing me on her way to the bathroom as I raced down the stairs, but I didn’t stop to listen to her chastise my consistent tardiness. Renee is older, also an earth-born, and likes to tell me everything I am doing wrong with my life when she visits from college. We were once practically inseparable but have grown a little distant since she went away to school; I would never admit it, but I missed her terribly. I loved when she came home to be with mom and I for the holidays.

“Arya” my mother yells again “Mom, I’m here, I’m ready, stop yelling!” I say as I come careening into the kitchen. My mom is short, like me, with dark brown hair, also like me. We could practically pass as twins if you compared old pictures. She has streaks of grey on her head and a few extra pounds on her belly, but is striking, nonetheless. Where my mother and I differ is our eyes; she has warm brown eyes like fresh turned earth after a rainstorm. I have eyes the color of moss, with speckles of dark and light greens scattered among a light green background. “It is the last semester of school, Arya, you need to focus and get your head out of the clouds!” my mother says, waving a spatula at me to accentuate her words. “I know mom, don’t worry, I got it!” I say as I sidle up to the counter and grab the piece of toast she had made for me. Taking a giant bite, I pull her in for a quick hug “Luf roo!” I say with a mouthful of bread as I rush out the door, my stomach welcoming the delicious buttery crumbs.

Despite her admonishments, I hear my mother giggle as the door slams closed behind me, and I jump into my old 2001 Ford F-150 truck. “Last semester!” I mutter to myself, plugging my phone in and turning up my music. My mother’s words really sink in as I drive away from my modest childhood home. Rolling down my windows, I can’t help but smile with joy “Last semester!” I say louder, letting myself get caught up in the idea of finally being free from the public school system.