This is the revision of "My Valentine." As such, there aren't tons of surprises in store for those who read the original version, though I have expanded it. Also, it takes place on and around February 14, 2000, meaning about a week has passed since "The Diadem." As one of my Valentine's Day offerings for 2003, it's heavier on the mush than usual, but you probably assumed that much. © February 2003.
Matches
Friday, February 11th
"Stupid, worthless Calculus... I can't believe this!"
Tamara Fox continued to grumble as she absently wove through the numerous students crowding Hamilton Walk, the main path cutting through the heart of Dreiser University.
Like all other universities, the core curriculum is mandatory for all students to study. Even Drama majors are required to branch out from their primary courses, to broaden the scope of their learning to such areas as science, foreign language, writing, social science... and math.
Tamara rolled her large brown eyes, fist crumpling the sheet of paper that had put her into such a temper.
"Hey, Tammy, what's... Tammy?"
She blinked twice, turning toward the source of the voice. "Hi, Matt."
He smirked as he hurried to her side. "And since when do you storm past your friends without a word?"
"Since this."
Matt stared at Tammy's fist, noticing the wad of paper crushed within. Intrigued, he took the sheet and unfurled it to expose a rather low number circled in red ink.
"Ouch," he commiserated.
"The first quiz of the term, and I flunk it!" She threw up her arms in frustration, earning several perplexed glances from the surrounding traffic.
"It's not the end of the world," Matthew offered.
"No... just the end of my GPA. Dobrinksi's giving us another quiz next week, and I'm so completely lost in class now! I thought I understood this stuff..." she snatched back the paper and shook it for emphasis, "..but obviously I didn't."
Matthew couldn't help a rueful grin as he watched his friend vent her anger. "You said you have Dr. Dobrinski, right? Which class is this?"
"Calculus 101," she spat, as if the very words tasted bitter.
"Then you're in luck; I took the exact same class last semester. And I aced it."
He watched, amused, as Tamara's eyes lit up with awe. "Really?"
"In fact, I even have my notebook."
Tamara clapped her hands, all her frustration fading. "Then let's go!"
Matt watched, mouth agape, as Tamara grabbed him by the arm and practically hauled him up Hamilton Walk. They weren't able to get very far before the crowd had condensed so tightly, no one could slip through. Tammy released Matthew with a huff, standing on her toes to see over the shoulders of the crowd.
"What's going on?" Matt wondered.
"Grid lock. Must be a sorority bake sale or something." Her smile reappeared. "Hey, we can go on the grass and walk around this!"
The pair pushed through the crowd to the yard lining Hamilton Walk, preparing to take a short cut to a less populated avenue. However, Matt couldn't help a little rubbernecking.
"Hey... that's Rachel!"
Tamara turned, and couldn't hide her surprise to see her roommate gathered with half a dozen other students behind a long table, hastily distributing and collecting clipboards and pencils to the substantial crowd.
She also noticed the identical red T-shirts Rachel and her associates wore, with white hearts boldly traced on the back. "Oh. My. God."
Utterly forgetting the urgency of securing a decent calculus grade, Tamara hurried toward the table, and tapped her roommate's shoulder from behind.
"Hi, Tammy," Rachel greeted. Her smile fell at the mischief lurking in her friend's dark eyes. "Now what are you up to?"
"I simply can't believe my eyes," Tamara replied, "You are the last person I expected to find on the Valentine's Giveaway Committee!"
Matt frowned. "The what?"
Rachel didn't hear him. "What makes you say that?" she wondered, her tone defensive.
Tamara shrugged. "Well, considering you haven't had a significant other in over a year, I figured romance was pretty low on your priorities."
Rachel's jaw tightened as she became keenly aware that at least one of the surrounding volunteers was paying attention. "Not this again..."
"What's the Valentine's Giveaway?" Matthew interjected, his curiosity piqued.
"It's been a tradition at Dreiser for eleven years," Rachel explained, "Essentially, it's a matchmaking contest. Every year, hundreds of students fill out these questionnaires that try to lock down the personality of the applicant. You know, what you like to do for fun, what types of movies you like, and so on. Then, a winner is selected from the entire batch, and we," she gestured to the other volunteers, "find the best match from the other entrants."
Matt picked up a questionnaire and scanned it quickly. "So it's a blind date?"
"It's so much more than that!" Tamara objected, her face bright with excitement, "The winning couple is treated to a fantastic night on the town! We're talking a limousine and dinner and dancing at a fancy restaurant. And the school picks up the bill."
"Fine... then it's a free blind date."
"Matt, it's a chance for one lucky guy or girl to meet their perfect match!"
Rachel smiled at Tamara's earnest words. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. The Committee does try to find a solid match for the winner, but still the objective is to have a good time with someone with similar interests."
She then rolled a pencil in Matt's direction. "Care to try your luck?"
He was clearly skeptical. "Even if, by some miracle, I'm picked as winner, what are the chances that a girl for me would even participate in a contest like this?"
With a groan, Tammy picked up the pencil and stuffed it in Matt's surprised hand. "What's the harm in taking a chance? At worst you'll endure a fantastic dinner with a girl with similar interests. At best you'll meet your future wife!"
Matt winced at the comment.
"And most likely, nothing will happen at all. So give it a shot!"
Rachel leaned closer to her young friend. "Just fill it out, Matt," she suggested in a stage whisper that Tamara could easily overhear. "Tammy's not going to let you leave until you do."
With a defeated huff, Matthew pressed the pencil to the questionnaire.
* * *
"Now I gotcha!" Craig gloated. A fierce grin lit his face as the samurai warrior launched a brutal combination attack on his adversary, driving her to the edge of the stone stage, balanced precariously over a fiery pit.
He grimaced as the Grecian warrior leapt gracefully to the side, dodging the most damaging swing of the attack.
"I can't believe you're still trying to get back at me for practice last week," Keith quipped. Whereas Craig's face was tight with frustration, the blonde man only grinned calmly as his thumbs pressed the buttons on the Dreamcast controller with experienced ease.
Craig's frown deepened as his next combination move utterly missed his opponent. He knew better than to deny that his rather embarrassing defeat in the Himalayan mountains last week still grated on his pride.
"If I had anything to prove, I think finding the Diadem just about did it," Craig retorted, his smugness returning as Keith's character lost a few precious millimeters on the life bar.
Both young men heard the exasperated sigh from the couch behind them. "So is this the part where you start insulting each other's mother, or will you jump right to arm wrestling?"
Keith chuckled. "We'll see how mature you are when Sophitia and I flatten you in six seconds, Jocie."
Jocelyn giggled, leaning forward to get a better view of the television screen between the heads of the two players. "You've got to get through Craig first," she answered, "and I'm starting to doubt that's gonna happen!"
"Ye of little faith," Keith murmured, blue eyes gleaming as Sophitia executed a graceful combination that left Mitsurugi staggering, "He's only another combo away from eating crow!"
Just then, the front door swung open, offering a split second of distraction as a pair walked into the apartment. "...on my bookshelf. It'll only take a minute to get it."
Tamara nodded, following Matthew into the common room. Her dark eyes immediately fell on the trio congregated far too close to the large television, narrowing with a healthy dose of disappointment. Without another word to Matt, she approached her friends, hovering over the couch and glaring down at the blonde head that was totally engrossed in Soul Caliber. "Amazing you have enough time to play games, with Valentine's Day three days away," she declared, her tone heavy with sarcasm, "I guess that means you already got my present for Valentine's Day, right, Keith?"
Keith flinched at his girlfriend's display, turning just in time to watch her disappear into Matthew's room. With a soft huff he turned back to the screen only to see the samurai deliver the blow that finally felled his character.
"Hey!" he growled, glaring at Craig.
"Mitsurugi wins," the video game announcer crooned.
Craig smirked at his roommate, his dark gaze anything but apologetic. "You snooze, you lose, man!"
Keith grumbled something unintelligible as he tossed the controller to Jocelyn. She watched Keith stand up, marching to the refrigerator with a petulant stomp in his step.
Biting back laughter at Keith's expense, Jocelyn planted herself beside Craig and waited for the menu screen to load. "I guess he's still in the doghouse for forgetting her birthday, huh?"
Craig shook his head. "He sure as hell better impress her with this one, or he may not get a third try!"
Jocelyn leaned closer to the athlete, an eager grin on her face. "So... what's he got planned?"
Craig shrugged. "Didn't breathe a word about it. I guess it's a surprise... unless he forgot all about it."
Jocelyn perused the menu of playable characters in the game. "What do you have planned for the big V-Day? Gonna sweep some cheerleader off her feet?"
Another casual shrug. "It's just another day, Jocelyn. I'll be sitting right here, watching the Knicks game. You?"
"Nothing special."
Craig spared his young friend a glance, noting how her amused grin had smoothed into a passive mask. She couldn't keep a hint of disappointment from embittering her words.
* * *
"So when's the next quiz?" Matthew inquired, flipping through a wire notebook.
"Tuesday." The theater student grimaced. "Can you believe it? Not only does this woman subject us to six quizzes a term, but she even decided to schedule one the day after Valentine's Day! That means I have to squeeze some major studying in this weekend!"
Matt grinned. "Big plans with Keith?"
Her expression tightened. "There'd better be," she answered cryptically.
Matt wisely decided not to appease his burning curiosity with questions. "Don't worry about it; I'm sure you'll catch on quickly." He held the notebook to her, already open to the applicable page. "I've got the syllabus inserted in the front, so you can compare the dates and topics with what you're reviewing. I've dated my class notes in the margins, so it looks like we should start with the September 27th notes. When are you free to study?"
"A.S.A.P." she answered eagerly.
Matt chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Okay, let's say seven o'clock. That'll give me some time to have dinner and get organized, and you can review the notebook and see what makes sense, and what doesn't."
Tamara enveloped the freshman in a tight hug. "You're a lifesaver, Matt!"
She then clutched the notebook tightly, breezed through the common room, offered hurried greetings to Craig, Jocelyn, and Keith, and left.
Matt emerged from his room, taking a seat on the couch. He grinned as Jocelyn guided the lithe warrior Kilik into a fierce attack pattern that cornered Mitsurugi.
"Dammit!" Craig groused, his expression thunderous.
"I got winner!" Matt called.
* * *
With a heavy sigh, Rachel stuffed the last package of pencils into the cardboard box. "That just about does it," she reported, folding the flaps to secure the contents, "Do we have an estimate yet?"
Chris Greyson held up a manila folder. "We picked up another two hundred entries today. Give or take a dozen."
Rachel grimaced, her dark eyes sliding from the folder to her watch. "Why does everyone wait until the last minute?"
Chris smirked. "I always thought procrastination was one of the tenets of college life."
Rachel was far from amused. "I knew we should've made the deadline earlier," she commented, taking the folder from Chris. She balanced it on top of the cardboard box, and lifted them both from the tabletop. "These last minute forms need to be processed tonight, so we pick the winner tomorrow morning and find the closest match."
She then turned to her companion. "So I'll see you tomorrow at eight? The whole Committee needs to be there for the final selection."
Chris watched as Rachel moved toward the Walk. "Wait, you're going to enter all those forms in now? By yourself?"
"It's Friday night," Rachel pointed out, "Everyone else on the Committee was busy."
"You never asked me," he noted.
Rachel turned around, feeling the need to explain herself. "I didn't even know you were on the Committee until you showed up this morning."
"Yeah, I did sign on pretty late in the game," he admitted. Before Rachel could protest, he took the burden from her arms. "This'll give me the chance to make up for it."
Rachel eyed him somewhat suspiciously. "I wasn't fishing for help, Chris."
He almost laughed aloud. "I can tell that's not your style. But hey, I don't have any plans tonight, so why not? The work will go twice as fast, and we can order some Chinese. I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"
Surprised by his persistence, her feet stayed rooted as Chris continued to walk toward the office for the Valentine's Day Giveaway. After several steps, he turned around. "What's wrong? If you don't want Chinese, we could always get a pizza..."
"No," she said finally, shaking off her stupor, "Chinese is fine." She caught up with him, a hesitant grin forming as she added. "Thanks for the help."
They continued to walk in silence, listening to the tap of their shoes against the pavement and the occasional passerby. As they walked, Rachel did her best to conquer the unease that sat in the pit of her stomach.
What the hell is my problem? He's Tammy's friend...I shouldn't be so gun-shy.
Of course, Tamara's obvious attempts to force some sort of Love Connection caused Rachel to search for hidden meaning behind Chris' every word and action.
And there was one question Rachel had been burning to ask since that morning, when he arrived at the entry table in a red T-shirt like the rest of the staff. "What made you sign up for the Committee?" she asked point-blank.
"I'm stalking you."
When Rachel froze dead in her tracks, Chris began to laugh. "I'm kidding!" he swore, "Sorry... I couldn't resist. You should see your face right now!"
Rachel glared at him as he regained his composure.
"Gwen Kaul asked me to help out yesterday," he answered, referring to the Committee's chairperson. "There seems to be a record number of applicants this year. I guess everyone wants the first Valentine's Day of the millennium to be special."
Rachel couldn't refute that point, and his explanation helped her relax a little. "So you know Gwen too? Seems like you're friends with everyone on campus."
Chris smiled, taking her comment as a compliment. "I'm working on it."
When Rachel folded her arms, obviously growing tense, Chris decided to latch on to the newest factor they had in common. "So how do you know Gwen?"
"We were roommates freshman year," she revealed. "We were assigned one of the basement rooms in Newton House."
Chris winced as he remembered the freshman dorm. "I've seen broom closets bigger than those rooms!"
Rachel grinned. "I always told Gwen she'd missed her calling by becoming a literature major. She really should've been an architect. The way she arranged the desks, dressers, and beds was the stuff of legends on our floor; would you believe she even managed to fit a couch in our room?"
He stared at her. "Rachel, that's not possible."
"It was a small couch; one from the lounge down the hall..."
Chris stopped short. "Wait a minute; are you trying to tell me that you stole a couch from the Newton Lounge, and put it in your dorm room??"
A guilty moue tightened her lips. "We borrowed one of the many couches from the lounge. It was never taken out of the building... Gwen and I figured it was no big deal."
Chris chuckled at Rachel's embarrassed excuse. "I never would've guessed you were even capable of stealing school property! Gwen's been known to do some crazy things, but you...?"
She gazed forward, not even glancing at him. "You don't know me, Chris."
And suddenly, an impenetrable wall appeared between them, putting a swift end to the casual conversation. Rachel drew away from him, holding open the door to the office building. As he passed her, he noticed she kept her eyes off him.
There's that avoidance reflex kicking in, he realized with a touch of disappointment. And we were actually breaking the ice...
He decided to take a figurative step back, into more comfortable territory. "You know what? I don't believe any of it," he decided.
Startled by the sharp turn, Rachel stared at him blankly. "Any of what?"
"There's no way you and Gwen stole a couch and shoved it into that shoebox of a dorm."
She stared at him for a long moment, noticing his teasing grin. Slowly, an answering grin appeared. "Tell you what, Chris... next time you pass by Newton House, pay a visit to room 004. I wouldn't be surprised if the current occupants have left the same arrangement to maximize space. They probably even 'stole' a couch of their own!"
He smirked. "I'll take you up on that."
Moments later, the pair arrived at the office housing all the equipment and files for the annual giveaway. Rachel unlocked the double doors, again holding one open to allow Chris through. He set the cardboard box on the nearest flat surface and began flipping through entries as Rachel turned on the lights and computer.
"So, what's the process?" Chris inquired.
"First, we feed the forms into the computer for processing. That's how we're going to narrow down the options to a reasonable number. Then, we sort these hard copies by gender, and then number, covering the names with masking tape and peeling off the ID tags on top. Those go in the basket by the desk."
Chris nodded slowly while Rachel booted the computer program. "Okay, how about you start scanning the forms, and I'll order dinner. Then I'll start putting the forms you've scanned into piles, male and female, and then by number. We can cover the names and collect the ID tags as we go."
"Sounds good," Rachel commented, pointing to the desk opposite her. "There's a phone book in the top drawer."
Chris grinned as he picked up the nearest telephone, and dialed the number by heart. "Memorizing delivery phone numbers is another tenet of college life. So, may I take your order?"
* * *
Two hours and a carton of chicken and snow peas later, Rachel walked into her apartment. As she peeled off her jacket, she noticed Tamara sitting at the kitchen counter, a peeved frown on her face as she stared at a thick textbook.
"Hey Tammy," she greeted.
Tamara glanced at her roommate. "So where've you been? I was starting to think you'd been abducted by aliens. Again."
Rachel smiled at the wry comment. "I was entering the new submissions."
"All this time?"
Rachel shrugged as she approached the refrigerator. "There were a lot of submissions. If Chris hadn't stuck around to help me, I'd still be there."
She selected the carton of orange juice, and turned toward the cupboard. Upon noticing Tamara's wolfish grin, she cocked an eyebrow. "I don't even want to know what's running through your mind right now."
Tamara slammed her textbook shut and leaned closer to her friend. "He really is a nice guy, Ray," she insisted, "and frankly, I doubt he stuck around on a Friday night to shuffle papers for no reason."
"Yeah, I know."
Tamara's smile faded at the resignation in her friend's voice. "And why isn't this a good thing?"
Rachel took a long sip of juice. "Because I don't want a guy in my life."
"Why are you so adamant about that?" Tamara demanded, clearly perplexed.
Rachel turned, meeting Tamara's stunned gaze. "I've always had a lot on my plate; school, work, extracurriculars... and two weeks ago, another huge burden was placed on my shoulders. The last thing I need right now is something else to worry about."
Silence gathered between them as Tamara considered Rachel's argument. There was something else behind Rachel's decision than practicality... but Tamara decided to let it slide. For the moment, at least.
"So, how's the studying coming?" Rachel queried, in an effort to change the topic.
Tamara groaned audibly. "Suffice it to say that Calculus will be the death of me. This entire textbook is Greek to me!"
"I thought Matt was going to help you."
Tamara glared at the clock. "Yeah, and he's two hours late!"
"That's not like him," Rachel noted, a faint worry starting to form. "Did you call him?"
"I don't want to be pushy..."
Without further ado, Rachel picked up the telephone.
* * *
Green eyes narrowed into slivers as the pink racer fired a tortoise shell. Snarling furiously, Matt jerked the controller as if his gyrations could help his driver regain control sooner. However, by the time Yoshi stopped spinning, the other racer had already crossed the finish line.
His opponent's mocking giggles made defeat even harder to swallow. "You may think you're hot stuff with Princess Peach, but can you handle Tony Hawk?" he challenged.
Jocelyn yawned theatrically. "Whatever it takes to prove to you that I've got your number!"
Moments after Matthew had climbed behind the television to connect the Playstation, the telephone rang. Jocelyn was quick to pick up.
"Hello?"
After a brief pause, the caller spoke. ^Jocelyn?^
"Hey Ray! How are you?"
^Hanging in there. Listen, is Matt around?^
"Yep. The bone-head absolutely refuses to acknowledge that I'm the Game Master!"
Rachel paused again. ^Matt's playing video games?^
Jocelyn jerked the phone away from her ear when she heard a high-pitched shriek. "Whoa, what was that??"
^Tammy. She's a little miffed Matt didn't come by to tutor her.^
Jocelyn's eyes narrowed. "He'll be right there."
Immediately upon hanging up the phone, Jocelyn stomped toward Matthew. His back was turned from her as he turned on the Playstation, eagerly grasping the first controller. "Did I tell you I set the record for this level? See if you can-"
He yelped as something soft yet solid slammed into his head. Rubbing the sore spot, he stared first at the pillow that had hit him, and then at Jocelyn.
"What was that for?" he complained.
Her arms were folded, and her eyes were devoid of sympathy. "You forgot all about Tammy!"
Matt winced, glancing at the clock. He then leapt from the floor, grabbing his keys and notebook. "Don't think this little distraction will save you from the wrath of Tony Hawk!" he warned as he opened the door.
Jocelyn smirked smugly. "I'm so scared..." she taunted.
* * *
Rachel hung up the phone, and then turned toward Tamara. She barely managed to contain her laughter at the thunderous expression on Tammy's face. "Matt will be here any minute. Jocelyn's bringing him down now."
"Matt's... with Jocelyn?" Tamara concluded.
"Sounds like they were playing video games. He probably lost track of time."
Rachel was trying to appease her friend, yet as the anger slowly melted from her pale face, Rachel felt her worry grow.
Tammy looked inspired.
"Tammy, what..."
A calculating grin appeared.
With a groan, Rachel slapped her forehead. "Tammy, don't!" she begged.
"But wouldn't they be adorable together?"
Straining for patience, Rachel rubbed the now sore spot between her eyes. "Tam, you read way too deep into things. They fight like brother and sister!"
Tamara dismissed the comment with a wave. "Take it from someone who grew up with two brothers... Matt and Jocelyn do not act like brother and sister. It's more like..."
Tamara bit her tongue as the door swung open, and Rachel tried to appear busy piling clean dishes in the cabinet.
A heartbeat later, Jocelyn emerged from the hallway. Both Rachel and Tamara gawked as the petite girl dragged Matthew into the apartment. Even after they came to a stop in the kitchenette, their hands remained linked. "Matt is really sorry he's such an airhead," she announced, her annoyance obvious.
Matt awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I got distracted," he excused, "but don't worry, we still have plenty of time to study Calc."
When he didn't hear the high pitched yelling he was expecting, Matt dared to raise his eyes. He frowned at the open surprise in Rachel and Tamara's faces.
"What're you staring at?" he demanded, nonplussed.
Tamara tossed her hair over her shoulder, regaining her composure. "Just a certain freshman who owes me an 'A' on my next quiz."
Matt smirked. "In that case, I suggest you bribe your professor."
* * *
Saturday, February 12th
The Red Enforcer gnashed his teeth, his arms trembling as he struggled to push back the inexorable approach of his opponent's glowing blue saber. Only, the sheer strength of the other was simply too much for him.
"Come to the Dark Side..."
Red glared. "Never!" he hissed.
"It is your destiny..."
Red stepped back, his feet sinking into the sand as he finally forced his enemy's saber to glance off his. "I'll never join with you!"
The other regarded him clinically. "But Luke... I am your father."
Before Keith could remember a suitable response, the heavy sand between them exploded in a burst of dust and orange energy. Both combatants were thrown to the ground.
"Craig, Keith, maybe it's time you got remotely serious?" Jocelyn suggested, lowering her granite crossbow.
"Besides, you aren't even close to right," Tamara added, "Vader, you were supposed to cut off Luke's hand before revealing that you're his father."
Rachel shook her head. "Don't encourage them, Tam. They just might lose a few limbs."
Keith rose to his feet, shaking the dust from his red armor. "Pretty fancy shootin' there, Jocie."
Orange grinned beneath her mask. "Thanks!" she responded, displaying her Dia-staff's latest incarnation, "Turns out my aim is pretty good. With a little practice, I'll be a force to be reckoned with!"
"More practical than a tennis racket, anyway," Matt contributed with a smirk. He easily ignored Jocelyn's gimlet glare.
"Spectrum Force," a voice declared. All six heroes looked into the deep blue sky, where Spectra floated above their heads. "The object of this exercise is for each of you to maximize the effectiveness of the Dia-staffs," she reminded them. "Now they are far less powerful than they were on Edenia, due to the great distance between the staffs and the Diadem, the source of their power. However, if you can wield them properly, these weapons may save your lives."
She lowered to the ground, and folded her arms. "Let's see what you've come up with."
The Force arranged themselves in line for inspection, each one taking their Dia-staff and willing it to mold into the shape that most suited them.
Spectra began with Rachel, who stood with a solid staff about four feet in length. "Why have you chosen this weapon?"
"It's solid and heavy, and it's long enough to strike an approaching or fleeing opponent."
Spectra nodded, and then continued to Tamara, whose spear reached over the top of her head. "And you, Tamara?"
Tammy grinned beneath her mask. "I was going for something that I could use both in close quarters and at a distance. And I saw this ninja movie the other day, with a weapon kinda like this... what's it called?"
"Naginata," Keith supplied.
"Right, that's the one. Anyway, it looked good."
With an answering smile, Spectra continued to Craig, who held a broad ax between both hands. "Craig?"
"I wanted a weapon that I could really put by back into," he related. "Something that could focus my strength, and give me an edge one-on-one."
"Very well," the Denebian commented, turning to the next member of the Force. "Matt?"
The Green Enforcer brandished two short, three-pronged blades. "I'm going with the sai. They're lightweight and razor sharp, perfect for throwing or deflecting a sharp weapon."
Spectra was about to comment, only Jocelyn's groan interrupted her. "You and your Ninja Turtles!"
"Hey, sometimes your first instinct is the best option," he countered.
Spectra cocked her eyebrow as she noted Orange's crossbow. "Jocelyn?"
Jocelyn straightened her back as she presented her weapon. "Long-range weapon that can harness and amplify the energy the orange stone produces, creating a big blast."
Spectra nodded her approval before turning to the last hero. "Keith?"
"Definitely the sword." The Red Enforcer took a step back, swinging the energy blade in an intricate performance that impressed most of his audience. "I've been practicing with the katana for years. I'm really in tune with it."
A grin slowly spread on Spectra's lips. "That will be determined tomorrow."
Keith froze in mid-swing, letting the crimson blade sink back into the granite staff. "How do you mean?"
Spectra stepped back, addressing the entire team. "Tomorrow we will focus our training on the weapons of your choice. You will confront each other, and then myself. Then we can see how well you handle your ideal weapon."
Craig stared at the Denebian in open surprise. "You're going to practice with us?"
Spectra clasped her hands behind her back. "I think it's time I stopped observing. If Phaedra ever sends true Denebian warriors to face us, you must be ready to combat them."
She then stared into the sky, watching the early evening sun continue to slide toward the barren sands and rocks of the arid desert. "This session is over. You may go home."
Before the Denebian could leave, Keith hurried forward. "Spectra, can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
For once, Keith seemed uncomfortable. "We've... been training every morning since this whole mess started, and I think we've made a lot of progress."
"Yes, you have," Spectra conceded, "though there is still very much you need to learn."
"True, but maybe we've earned a day off? Specifically this Tuesday?"
Keith felt the surprised stares of his teammates, but he chose to focus his attention on Spectra, whose frown sunk his hopes.
"See, this Monday is Valentine's Day, and... well... it'd be great if we had some flexibility with our Tuesday morning schedule. You know, in case anyone is... uh... up late."
Keith's halting explanation won a giggle from Jocelyn, snickers from Craig and Matt, pity from Rachel, and a flush of embarrassment from Tamara. Yet Spectra still frowned.
"What is Valentine's Day?"
Rachel then stepped forward, taking some of the pressure off the Red Enforcer. "February 14th is a holiday celebrating love. Everyone's always so busy with their own lives, sometimes they take their loved ones for granted."
"An interesting concept," Spectra acknowledged, "Though one would think such a holiday would be burdensome to those who were not romantically involved."
"Sometimes it is," Matt contributed, "but it really shouldn't be. Valentine's Day is usually associated with romance, but who says it has to be? When my parents split up, I was my mom's Valentine."
"Aw," Jocelyn cooed, "that's so sweet."
Matt grimaced, silently thankful his mask hid his embarrassment. "Yeah, well... the point is, you just have to make time for the people that matter to you."
Spectra nodded slowly, her eyes lifting to the sky again. Her voice was soft when she made her decision. "It... sounds like a worthwhile holiday, then. Tuesday's morning practice is canceled, but always keep your rings, in case an emergency arises."
A cheer of excitement rose from the heroes.
Spectra grinned bemusedly at her students. "And, of course, I will see you tomorrow and Monday, first thing in the morning."
"We'll be there," Tamara confirmed.
"See you then," Rachel called, lifting into the air.
As the team began to disperse, Keith lingered back. He approached Spectra, a sheepish grin on his masked face. "There's... something else I'd like to ask you."
* * *
Rachel didn't have enough time to wait for her teammates. Instead, she launched herself westward, letting the sun serve as her guide. She rocketed high in the atmosphere, her purple aura leaving a comet's trail behind her, as she flew over expansive deserts of rock and sand, cities that formed tight clusters of metal and stone, and finally the rich blue of the Atlantic Ocean. That was always the trickiest part of a transcontinental flight, for the sheer magnitude of the mostly featureless oceans could make her lose track of which direction she flew. But eventually the cool blue was specked with the numerous small islands of the Caribbean, and from there it was easy to skirt along the southern border of the United States, right to California.
The Purple Enforcer flew to her chosen re-entry site: the secluded alley nestled between the administrative buildings. Given the day and hour, the buildings were almost empty, so there were no witnesses to her unorthodox arrival.
With a mere thought she willed the power back into the ring. Purple molded armor melted away, revealing the telltale red T-shirt of the Valentine's Giveaway Committee, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. Then, she stepped out of the alley, and jogged to the office used by the Committee.
When she pushed open the glass door, she was greeted by the first friend she'd made at Dreiser University.
"Ray, you're six minutes late!" Gwen gasped. She pulled off her wire frame glasses, fastidiously rubbing the lens with the edge of her red T-shirt. "Maybe I can't see the clock right..."
Rachel smirked at the Committee's chairperson, taking a seat among the other volunteers and patiently waiting for Gwen to get back to business.
"Okay," Gwen called, "this was the day we were all waiting for. The day in which we play Cupid!" Her bronze face was alight with infectious excitement. "We've scanned all the entries into the computer, organized the hard copies by gender and identification number, and then arranged them in numerical order in these file cabinets," she highlighted, gesturing to two shelves of hanging folders. "Each entry had a perforated tag on the top, with the number of the entry and gender of the applicant. The tags are in this basket here, and the first number picked is our winner."
She rubbed her hands, and then dove one hand deep into the strips of paper. After swimming through the pile, she extricated a single folded strip.
"And the lucky winner is... a guy!" The announcement was followed by noisy applause from the majority of the men in the group, and peevish grumbling from some of the women. Gwen set two fingers between her lips, releasing a startling whistle that quickly silenced the room.
"Anyway," she huffed, "the number is 2159. Ray, care to do the honors?"
Rachel was still grinning at the entire display as she pulled open the appropriate drawer of hard copies. She quickly leafed through the folders, and removed the entry form with a flourish.
"Now, we cut down the possibilities by letting the Scantron pull up the one hundred female entries that most closely match the responses in the multiple choice section," Gwen narrated, turning to the lone computer station. The student at the desk, a sophomore engineering student named Jerry, saluted the group's leader before punching the appropriate keys into the system.
After a few quiet minutes of processing, a list of numbers began to collect on screen.
Gwen cracked her knuckles. "And now, we get to work!"
The volunteers separated into five smaller groups, each getting a handful of numbers from Jerry to research. Soon, piles of applications lay strewn across a dozen tables, as volunteers read and reread the short answer section of the application, taking note of which applicants were strong matches, and which were not based on this additional criteria no computer could properly consider.
After several hours of reading and hushed dispute, each group presented the application they considered the strongest match to the winner's entry. And the debate began anew, as the entire Committee searched for consensus.
Finally, decision time came. Gwen pulled a portable chalkboard before the assembly, and wrote in the four digit codes of each of the five finalists.
"Okay, raise your hands for bachelorette number 0039!"
She counted the hands that hovered in the air, and then wrote the tally on the board.
"Raise 'em for bachelorette number 1378! Now 2001! 0782! And our final finalist... 0251!"
Gwen wrote in the final tallies, and stepped back from the board. "And now, fellow Cupids, we have determined that bachelorette number 0782 is our lucky winner's best match!"
Facetious applause broke at the announcement, as Gwen collected the winning entries. With great flourish, she pulled off the masking tape covering the names and addresses of the applicants.
"Hey Ray, care to deliver the notes to our lucky winners? They both live in your building."
With a cooperative nod, Rachel stood up and took the forms from Gwen. It took a moment before it dawned on her. Her dark gaze jumped from one sheet to the other, her eyes slowly widening.
* * *
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Jocelyn returned to the High Rise. Her ponytail was still damp from her afternoon at the gym's pool, where she'd burned some time, calories, and energy. Now, she was totally spent, and the vague ache in her muscles sang accomplishment.
No way I'm getting that freshman fifteen! She determined, walking through the lobby, Unless I spent Valentine's Day shoveling everything Ben and Jerry makes...
She walked down a hallway lined with hundreds of small metal mailboxes, a strange unease knotting her stomach. About a week ago, she'd learned about the Valentine's Day Giveaway, and something about the concept appealed to her. She'd never had someone special with whom to share the holiday... and it didn't start to bother her until suddenly February 14th began to mean something to her friends at high school. Then, the chill of loneliness first struck, and it continued to do so each year afterward.
The contest was a chance to find a spark... but it was even more likely to leave a burn. Of course, plenty of doubts flooded her mind when she read the questionnaire. What if she was matched with someone much older? Or someone that bored her to tears? Or someone that... expected something from her...?
Two weeks ago, she would've let her worries impede her. She would've shaken her head at the effusive volunteer, and kept walking. She never would've taken such a chance... it wasn't her style.
Yet, the orange stone on her finger gave her fresh perspective. When compared to the grotesque horror of the Phlegnin worm that burrowed through the subways of Langstrum Alps, an older guy was hardly intimidating. Considering the petrifying fear of being swallowed by the thick blanket of Shadows on Edenia, a boring date was not the end of the world. And after facing an endless army of Shadows, resigned to fight until she drew her last breath, even the most hormonal of college boys could hardly phase her.
So with confidence she'd never before experienced, Jocelyn completed the questionnaire.
Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't embarrassed by it all. The absolute last thing she wanted was for her friends to realize her loneliness. Considering how anxious Tamara was to find Rachel a boyfriend, even the slightest hint of her feelings would turn the Yellow Enforcer's matchmaking eye in her direction.
Besides, I'm not desperate! I'm just... adventurous.
Though when she stood before her mailbox, her hand hovering at the latch, she wondered where her adventurous spirit had gone.
Taking a breath to steel herself, Jocelyn pulled open the mailbox.
She was expecting to be disappointed. She had already made a tentative date with the couch, a pint of Cherry Garcia, and the video "Blazing Saddles" to lift her spirits. So when she reached into the small crevice, and brushed her fingers against ribbon and soft petals, she stopped breathing.
Biting her lip, Jocelyn pulled her hand from the mailbox, holding a single red rose, with a sheet of paper tied to its stem in fine red ribbon.
* * *
"I told you! I so told you!! And you didn't even want to consider the possibilities!"
Rachel tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for Tamara to get her triumph out of her system.
"It's incredible that they won! Of all the hundreds of applicants, they won! It's like... fate or something!"
She then turned around, fixing a curious eye on Rachel. "Unless, an insider helped them out."
"Me?" Rachel concluded, "You think I might've had a hand in this? The forms were all anonymous when we read them, and Gwen picked the winner herself. I didn't even know Jocelyn decided to participate!"
"Yeah, I didn't either," Tamara confessed, tapping her cheek pensively, "I wonder why she didn't clue us in?"
"So, you didn't have anything to do with this?"
Tamara turned to Rachel, her eyebrow raised. "Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know... maybe forge Jocelyn's application?"
Tamara opened her mouth, preparing a sharp reply, when suddenly the fight died right out of her. Slowly, a grin formed on her face. "Hmm... that didn't even occur to me! Not a bad idea, Ray!"
Rachel rolled her eyes bemusedly. "You are a devious woman, Tamara Fox!"
The sound of keys jingling at the front door drew both women's attention. They stared openly, wide smiles on their faces, as Jocelyn stepped into the apartment.
The high color on the freshman's cheeks only deepened. "I guess I don't need to tell you what happened," she realized, setting her gym bag on the sofa.
"I can't understand why you kept a lid on it," Tamara confessed, "I mean, you must've known Rachel was on the committee, right?"
Jocelyn shrugged. "I figured she'd only find out if I was selected, and the chances were slim that'd happen, so why make a big deal out of it?"
She slowly withdrew the rose and invitation from the outer pocket of her bag. "Now...I guess it's time to make a big deal out of it." She took a long, steadying breath as she unrolled the pale pink parchment. "An evening of fine cuisine and dancing, courtesy of the school, and accompanied by a young man that matches my personality and interests. I'm supposed to meet him at the Fine Arts school entrance at six o'clock on Monday. The limo will pick us up from there." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how I got myself into this..."
Jocelyn jumped as Tamara threw her arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. "Relax, Jocie... we'll make sure you're there with bells on!"
Rachel grinned at Jocelyn's grimace. "Figuratively speaking, of course."
Tamara's excitement bubbled as she took the invitation and read it over. "This is going to be fantastic! I have to go to the Plaza for some shopping... Keith told me to wear something 'winter warm' for Valentine's. God only knows what he's planning..."
She made her way to the refrigerator, and pinned the invitation with a magnet. "So let's make a day out of it! I'll help you find the perfect outfit for tomorrow night... Ray, you can come with us, right?"
"Sure, I'll tag along."
"Great! We'll shop around for clothes, then collect the makeup essentials, grab a bite... it'll be so much fun!"
Jocelyn hurried to the refrigerator, snatching the invitation and stuffing it into her pocket. "Maybe we can keep a lid on this? I mean, there's no reason to announce this to the world, right?"
Rachel and Tamara traded amused looks. Jocelyn noticed, and frowned. "Okay, I admit it, this is a little embarrassing. I'm fine with you two knowing, and I'm grateful for your help, really... but the guys do not need to find out. They've got the collective maturity of a five-year-old. All I need is for Craig or Keith to start teasing me... and Matt? He'll never let me live this down!"
Tamara's smirk softened at the concern on her friend's face. "My lips are sealed."
Rachel's startled glance met Jocelyn's, and both girls fell into helpless laughter. Tamara impaled both her friends with her sharpest glare, though they paid no heed. "I am capable of keeping a secret!" she grumbled petulantly.
* * *
"No way..."
For an absurd moment, Matthew actually considered closing his mailbox door and opening it again. But his eyes were not deceiving him... a red rose with delicate twine sat just above his phone bill.
An awed grin forming, he pulled out the delicate blossom and unfurled the note.
"Hey Matt!"
He barely contained a startled yelp when he recognized the voice. Urgently, he stuffed the flower back into the mailbox.
"Uh... hey, Tammy."
Something in Tamara's laughing brown eyes caused a faint blush to erupt on Matthew's fair skin. Did she already know he'd won the Giveaway...?
"Listen, the girls and I are going to the mall for some emergency shopping," she reported, waving to Rachel and Jocelyn by the elevator. "We need to reschedule that Calculus study session. Maybe tomorrow after practice?"
He nodded dutifully. "Sure. Tomorrow's good."
Her lips spread into a saccharine smile. "Isn't there something you want to tell me?"
"Like what?" he wondered, all innocence.
"Like 'thanks for making me fill out the questionnaire!' Jeez, Matt, I saw you with the rose!"
Matthew winced visibly, looking around to make sure no one overheard. "Tam, keep your voice down!"
"What's the big deal, anyway? Rachel already told me you won."
He then took a cautious look over Tamara's shoulder. Over the distance, he caught Jocelyn's anxious grin. What was on her mind, he wondered...
"Joce doesn't know yet, right?"
Tamara blinked. "No. Not yet, anyway."
"So, why don't you let me tell her? When I'm ready, I mean."
She shook her head, laughing at some inside joke Matthew couldn't fathom. "It's up to you, Matt," she decided, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Matt waved as she walked away, and threw another wave to Rachel and Jocelyn as the trio left the building. Then, once the coast was clear, he drew open the mailbox once again, and retrieved his prize.
He stared at the soft rose petals, suddenly perplexed.
Why don't I want Joce to know about this? I mean, what's the big deal? She'll be happy for me, just like the others will.
Only, for some reason, it just wasn't that simple.
* * *
Monday, February 14th
Her throat was dry as she sat down at her desk. Her brow furrowed, she stared at her reflection in the small mirror, and tugged the towel that wrapped her damp hair.
She stared at herself for a solid minute, noticing even the tiniest blemish or imperfection. Her hair hung limply around her face, dripping onto the soft cotton of her bathrobe.
She had three hours before the "big date," but the preparation had begun forty-eight ago. On Saturday, she, Tamara, and Rachel spent hours at the mall, browsing through dress boutiques, stuffy department stores, trendy teen-wear, and specialty shops. She had absolutely no idea where she could ever find a decent dress for a special occasion, but thankfully, Tamara had an eagle eye for bargains. After sorting through hundreds of dresses expensive enough to make them gasp, Tamara had decided on exactly the type of outfit Jocelyn would look marvelous in. Then, the trio happily headed to the more reasonable stores in the mall, and struck gold at Loehmann's.
Afterwards, the more experienced girls ushered their initiate to CVS for the other essentials... like apricot face scrub, volumizing shampoo and conditioner, makeup in all the season's hottest berry shades, and more vials of spritzes and creams than Jocelyn could imagine using.
Sunday, after the early morning practice with the rest of the team, had been a lazy day. Jocelyn took advantage of the quiet to get some schoolwork done, knowing that she'd be so distracted on Monday, she'd barely pay attention in class.
Monday rolled around, and so did the contents of Jocelyn's stomach. Classes flew by, and all too soon, it was time to begin the ritual of preparation.
Tamara's excited antics offered little encouragement. Rachel's reserved grin wasn't amusing. The hot shower was hardly relaxing. And as she stared at the cosmetics and hair-care supplies intended to transform her from ordinary to alluring, she felt that sinking feeling of helplessness.
Of course, asking for help was out of the question. Tamara was now completely focused on her mysterious date with Keith, critically selecting the final adornments for her first "cold weather" date.
With a sigh of resignation, Jocelyn lifted her blow dryer, and set out to arrange her hair the only way she knew how, in simple strands about her face. Perhaps she could spice it up with a barrette...?
"Joce? Jocelyn!"
The voice was drowned out by the steady burr of the dryer, but Jocelyn did notice Rachel's entrance through the reflection in the mirror. She mustered a smile for her roommate. "Hey, Ray."
She turned around, noticing that Rachel had come armed with a set of hot rollers. "What are you doing?"
Rachel grinned wryly. "I'm fixing your hair, of course. I wasn't expecting you to figure out what all those mousses and pomades are for."
Jocelyn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You want to style my hair?"
"Well, somebody has to fix you up. Now let's get to work."
Somehow, Jocelyn couldn't imagine that the studious, serious senior had even a passing interest in something as frivolous as hair-care. But she settled down in her desk chair, watching as Rachel plugged the rollers in one outlet, and selected a hair product.
"Okay, the first thing we do is apply the mousse, to pump up your hair," she narrated, filling her palm with a generous amount of white foam. "It also holds the style, so your hair won't fall flat."
She saturated Jocelyn's fine, shoulder-length hair with the foam, combing through the hair to distribute the mousse neatly.
Rachel then set the hair dryer to maximum heat, starting from the nape of the neck and aiming the gushing air against the hair growth. Once the hair was completely dry, she added a touch of conditioner, and began sectioning.
Jocelyn watched her friend's labor, intrigued by the concentration in Rachel's face. She combed through Jocelyn's hair with surprising skill, drawing two parts from forehead to nape and slipping over a dozen large rollers into place.
After twenty minutes of labor, Jocelyn's hair had been treated, dried, conditioned, and rolled. She released a soft, surprised laugh as Rachel tapped each roller, making sure it was securely in place.
"It'll take about fifteen minutes for the rollers to cool," Rachel informed her, unplugging the heating tray, "Then we just shake out the curls for a tousled look, and mist with hair spray for staying power. Trust me, you'll look terrific."
Rachel then noticed Jocelyn's grin through the mirror. "What's so funny?"
"Where did you learn this?" Jocelyn wondered, "You don't really seem the type to study Cosmo magazine."
"My mother's been a stylist for almost thirty years. She's worked at a salon, has done hair and makeup for some catalogue models, and now mostly works on bridal parties. Eventually, even I picked up a few pointers."
She then picked up the hair dryer, and began winding the chord. "The way I see it, if the law thing doesn't work out, I have a backup plan."
The absolute absurdity of the mental image made both girls fall into giggles, until a solid knock at the door silenced them both. A heartbeat later, the bedroom door swung open. "Can you guys get that?" Tammy requested, "It's Keith."
Jocelyn turned to her other roommate. "Why? You're already dressed."
Rachel grinned ruefully. "One of Tammy's rules: even if she's ready to go, a lady will make her date wait at least five minutes."
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Girls like you give the rest of us a bad name!"
Tamara pouted. "Hey! I'm still deciding on my lip-gloss! Now it's between Rum Raisin or Sugar Plum."
"You know, I think it's been scientifically proven that women can discern finer differences in color than men can," Jocelyn commented. "Either one will be 'purple' to Keith."
Tamara glared at her.
Rachel smothered her laughter as she approached the door. "Joce, don't bother trying to see the logic in this. It's about Tammy wanting to look her best, whether or not Keith really notices. So sit tight and don't touch the rollers; I'll be back in five minutes." She then turned to Tamara. "Definitely go with the plum; it's richer than the raisin, and a touch lighter."
Tamara smiled before hurrying back to the bathroom. "Thanks, Ray."
With an indulgent grin, Rachel closed Jocelyn's door and made her way to the front. She pulled open the door, to Keith's easy-going grin.
"Hey, Ray," he greeted, walking into the apartment, "How're you doing?"
Rachel's gaze lingered on the large gift bag he settled on the countertop. "Fine. I see you're in a good mood."
Her curiosity piqued when she noticed what he was wearing: a cotton turtleneck, lambs' wool blazer, and heavy slacks. "Where are you going? A meat-packing factory?"
His trademark, secretive smirk appeared. "Tam will tell you all about it tomorrow," he told her, his hand disappearing into the bag. He pulled out a palm-sized box of assorted chocolates, neatly wrapped in red ribbon. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Rachel chuckled as she accepted the token. "You are such a charmer," she drawled.
"I have a reputation to re-establish, after that birthday blunder." He retrieved one more box from the bag. "Where's Jocie?"
"Indisposed; but I'll make sure she gets this."
Keith then glanced at his watch, and rubbed his palms together. Rachel noticed his impatience. "It's only three-thirty. You've got plenty of time."
"Not really... with the time zone shift, we're gonna lose three hours."
It took Rachel a few moments before she realized what he'd said. "Did you just say... time zone??"
At that moment, Tamara emerged from her bedroom, wearing a loose winter-white sweater and fitted leather skirt. Her hair was tied in an elegant French braid, leaving curling tendrils to frame both sides of her face. Wide silver hoops dangled from her ears, matching the dainty chain that adorned her neck.
Keith's smile widened at her appearance. "Wow..."
Rachel aptly sensed that was her cue. Grinning at the couple, she retreated to Jocelyn's room.
Tamara bit back her excitement, thoroughly pleased by Keith's reaction. "So, what's the big surprise?" she urged, "I don't think restaurants are even seating dinner guests this early!"
He winked, taking the gift bag from the counter and bringing it to Tamara. "First things first..."
Tamara glanced down into the bag, her eyes widening with amused surprise. "Keith, he's adorable," she murmured, lifting out the honey brown teddy bear. Her eyebrow quirked at the bear's unusual accoutrements: an "I Love NY" baseball cap, a cotton T-shirt with the Statue of Liberty standing proudly on the front, a hot dog in one paw, and a Yankees pennant waving in the other.
She giggled as she planted a soft kiss on her boyfriend's lips. "This is definitely unusual, coming from you," she admitted.
Then, he took her hand. "It gets better. Ready to go?"
Nodding with gleeful anticipation, Tamara settled the present on her bed, and then took Keith's hand. He led her outside the apartment, and then down the hall to the elevator.
Tamara frowned in puzzlement as Keith pushed the "up" arrow.
"Did you forget something at your place?" she wondered.
He only grinned as the elevator door opened. Then, letting her pass before him, he stepped inside and pressed the "Roof Court" button.
Tamara blinked, refusing to believe her eyes. Why would Keith take her to the building's basketball court?
The pair stood in silence as the elevator crept passed the remaining floors. Tamara felt the sudden urge to scratch her head in confusion, but kept in mind such a gesture could ruin her intricate hairdo.
Once the elevator reached the roof, Keith took her hand again, and led her into the open air. The sun still hung near the horizon, yet there was no one playing basketball on the concrete court ringed with a link fence over ten feet high.
Tamara half-expected to see a table for two set up, with candles and even a violinist to serenade a quiet, romantic dinner. Yet the court was completely empty, baffling her further.
Then, Keith took a step away. "Spectrum Sync!"
Tamara's jaw swung open as her boyfriend transformed. "Keith... what's going on?"
"Don't worry, I cleared it with Spectra the other day," he told her, gently lifting her into his arms. "When you can fly up to 186,000 miles a second, the whole world's your oyster."
Tamara couldn't resist a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You do realize that I can fly on my own, right?"
She could see the outline of his smile through his mask. "Well yeah... but it's a surprise!"
And with that, a warm red aura wrapped them both in a protective cocoon, and he took off into the air.
Tamara released an excited squeal as the world shrank in her view. Though they were traveling safely below the speed of sound, the sensation of flight was more extraordinary than when she flew under her own power at greater speeds.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip around Keith's neck. As if sensing her unease, the red aura intensified, burning brightly and tingeing the entire world crimson.
"You okay?" Keith checked. Tamara was surprised to note that she could hear him very well; the howling of the wind had calmed when he'd raised his power.
"I'm fine," she assured him with a smile, "It just feels... different, flying this way."
He nodded. "Spectra told me about that. She said that the Spectrum Stones amplify the speed of our thoughts and reflexes, so we can navigate at very high speeds. Also, our armor serves as protection from the wind, pressure, and temperature extremes... but Spectra said we can boost our energy shields to compensate for a passenger. It's a careful balance to maintain; the faster we fly, the denser the shield needs to be. And if it's too powerful, people will see a really bright red streak in the sky."
Tamara gazed at him with new wonder. "You really put some thought into this," she realized.
A comfortable silence fell as Tamara nestled her head against his strong shoulder. The blazing red energy shaded the darkening sky, creating a violet canopy over the hills and valleys of the Earth. Tamara also experienced the awe-inspiring sight of the sun vanishing behind the undulating planes of middle America, it's warm light slowly fading as the sphere dipped beneath the horizon.
They flew over calm lakes, rapid rivers, peaceful farms, and vibrant cities. The experience was so spectacular, warm and safe in the powerful arms of her love while watching all the various landscapes pass beneath her, the time simply flew by. All too soon, Keith began to descend, drawing his power inward and orienting his feet to the ground.
"Now you have to close your eyes," he instructed, "I'll guide you."
Smiling indulgently, Tamara did as he requested. She felt her insides vaguely flip as gravity exerted its strength, pulling the pair down until they suddenly stopped. She heard the sound of a door sliding open, the padding of footsteps, and then he finally set her on her feet... on carpeting.
She discerned the flash of Keith releasing the red power through her eyelids. "Okay, you can look now."
She opened her eyes, and stared in absolute astonishment at the scene through the window.
"Oh... Keith!" she gasped. The colors and lights were overwhelming, with advertisements hanging from buildings tall enough to disappear out of her field of vision. Countless taxis and cars flooded the wide boulevard, casting brilliant yellow and red lights. Even more pedestrians crawled along the sidewalks, rippling like waves on an ocean. And small flakes of snow gently descended from the heavens, dusting the entire scene with a touch of magic.
"New York..."
It was every theater student's fantasy to explore the famous Broadway, where dozens of productions flourished. It was every teenaged girl's dream to stroll Fifth Avenue, and window shop in famous shops like Saks and Tiffany's. And who hadn't heard of the hundreds of restaurants, cafés, and clubs that lined the streets?
"This is my family's Manhattan apartment," Keith told her from behind. His breath was warm against her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It's got a great view."
"It's incredible..." she sighed, reaching to stroke his arms. As her hands traveled to his hands, her fingers brushed against paper. She stopped breathing as she glanced down to see his next surprise.
"You didn't!" she squealed, plucking the two tickets from his hands, "Les Misérables!"
"You can't come to Manhattan and not see a show!" Keith responded, "You... you haven't seen this one, have you?"
She turned around in his embrace, rested her hands against the back of his head, and drew him down to meet her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.
When they withdrew, Keith was nearly breathless. "So, I guess I didn't screw this one up," he noted with a grin.
"It's perfect!" she assured him, wiping the mist from her eyes, "Just... perfect."
* * *
The cool breeze wove through the air, rustling the ivy vines that hugged the white stone arch that was the entrance to the Fine Arts school at Dreiser University. White steps climbed to the arch, meeting the white stone walkway that cut through the pristine green yard, with vibrant shrubs and small trees adding texture. The majestic Gothic building stood about fifty yards back from the arch, a work of art in and of itself.
The place felt like something from a fairy tale.
Matthew restlessly loosened the knot of his tie. He'd only been waiting for three minutes, but each second seemed to stretch on for hours. Any second now, he would come face to face with his perfect match.
Of course, he tried not to let that thought run away with him. After all, chances were very good that they wouldn't hit it off at all. The pressure of a blind date could easily make both agitated, resulting in a tolerable but not truly enjoyable evening. Or, they could determine that they have much in common, only they lack that spark of attraction that makes friends into something more.
His heart leapt into his throat at the sound of heels tapping along the stone walkway. He awkwardly straightened the rose pinned to his jacket, cleared his throat, and took a breath.
He heard the footsteps behind him draw ever closer.
"Um, excuse me," said a timid, startlingly familiar voice, "I..."
Matthew spun around, confusion wrinkling his brow. He knew that voice as well as his own. His widened as they were treated to a sight that swept his breath away.
A simple burgundy slip dress draped her body, tapering in a ruffled fringe just above her knee. A graceful strand of pearls adorned her neck, matching the pendulum earrings that hung from her ears. Her golden brown hair was arranged in deceptively simple tousled locks, brushing against her bare shoulders and framing her lovely, though stunned, face.
Matthew was completely speechless.
"Matt??" she cried, her hazel eyes wide as she took a step back, "Is that you? You look..."
Her face quickly erupted in guilty blush, her hand self-consciously threading a tendril of hair as she brushed the disquieting thought away quickly. "What are you doing here?"
It was then that Jocelyn noticed the rose that contrasted sharply to the deep black of his suit. It still took a few moments for her distracted mind to make the obvious connection.
"You're... my date?"
Jocelyn's bewildered stare melted through Matthew's stupefaction, causing a smile to highlight his face. At first, he smiled... but the smile soon became a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" she asked, even more confused by Matthew's reaction.
Despite herself, she began laughing as well, gratefully easing her tension.
"And here I was, expecting the most stressful night of my life," Matt said, between laughs, "You have no idea how nervous I was!"
Jocelyn wiped a tear from her eyes as she spoke between giggles. "I think I have some idea. If Rachel hadn't shoved me out of the apartment, I might not have made it at all!"
Her laughs tapering, she wove her arm through his. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend Valentine's Day with, than my best friend."
A warm grin suffused Matt's face. "Neither can I."
* * *
For some bizarre reason, Rachel couldn't lose herself in the novel she had selected. She'd covered some seven pages that evening, but could hardly remember what was going on.
All she could think about was Jocelyn and Matt, taking a bold step in their friendship without even realizing it. And Keith and Tamara, who seemed just as deeply in love as ever, even though they'd been seeing each other for nearly a year.
And for the first time in quite a while, Rachel felt like she was missing out on something.
She ruthlessly buried that thought as soon as it formed. I have to stop letting Tamara's naïve ideas about romance get to me! she asserted, Getting involved with someone is time-consuming, distracting, and... risky...
With a frustrated breath, Rachel closed her novel and set it on the coffee table. Resigning herself to a mindless evening watching whatever movies were available, she picked up the television remote and began channel surfing.
About five minutes after she'd settled on stand-up comedy, a knock at the door drew her attention. Faintly curious, Rachel stood up and peeked through the lens. Smirking, she opened the door for the visitor.
"What's up? Run out of chips?"
Craig grinned guiltily. "I think Matt dipped into my Frito stash over the weekend... probably nervous about that date of his."
"Well, you're welcome to see what we've got," Rachel offered, ushering her friend inside, "We don't have corn chips, but we do have Tostidos and guacamole."
The athlete pulled a face. "That's avocado, right?"
"My mom's recipe. It makes a great snack."
Craig began shuffling through the cabinets, pulling out items that seemed appetizing. He grimaced as he read the label on one package. "Snackwell reduced fat chocolate chip cookies? Jeez... what's the point?"
Rachel rolled her eyes at his ignorance, and grabbed the box. "Try it before you knock it," she advised, stuffing a bite-sized cookie into his mouth.
Craig frowned thoughtfully as he chewed the snack. "Definitely not Mrs. Fields... but not too bad."
He took the box, and piled it in his arms along with the other snacks as he headed for the television. "So where's Jocie? Getting a head start on final exams?"
"Actually, she's on a date. With Matt."
Incredibly, Craig didn't seem surprised. "Good for them," he decided. He fell into the couch, turning the volume up on the television. "So I guess we're both flying solo this Valentine's, huh?"
Rachel sat down beside him, setting a bowl of guacamole on the table. "It's just another day, Craig."
He grinned at her, dipping a chip into the green paste and taking an experimental bite. He savored the taste for a moment before nodding. "This is pretty good!"
Rachel watched bemusedly as Craig dipped another chip, this time scooping a healthy pile of avocado dip. "So what's the score?"
"Knicks down by twelve at the half," he reported.
She took the remote and flipped to the appropriate station.
* * *
She stopped breathing when the small vessel docked with the large base. Through her view screen, she saw the large white city, surrounded by the near-blinding light of the star within which is stood.
Slowly, she deactivated the engines, and unstrapped her restraint.
I shouldn't have come here. I should've stayed on Earth. I'm needed on Earth...
Though she had a sneaking suspicion she was needed in Lumina City as well. And she would return to her station before anyone was the wiser... so why should she worry?
She stepped out of her Starglider, turning toward the man that greeted her in the hangar. "Spectra... I thought I felt your approach."
She bowed formally. "High Father."
She could see the rebuke lingering in Luminus' wise eyes. "I have already explained to you that your duty is on Earth. If Phaedra gets a foothold in the Outskirts-"
Incredibly, Spectra interrupted him. "I know the risk, High Father. I am only here for a short time."
Luminus approached her, noting her mutinous expression. "I also told you now is not the time to help your father." His voice was gentle. "He is still lost within the throes of the fever. His mind is a dangerous place. Not even you can find any clue about the Diadem from him."
Her gaze hardened. "I'm not here for the Diadem. I'm here for him. I want to try and reach him. Not to explore his mind or learn his secrets... just to be here for him."
He opened his mouth to protest, but the defiance in her gaze spoke louder than any argument she could form. With a small sigh, Luminus waved his hand. "Very well, the choice is yours. But prepare yourself for what you will see."
She nodded, the steel in her face softening as she met no more resistance. Luminus patiently guided her through the halls, taking her directly to her goal.
They walked in silence, and with each step she took, Spectra lost a little more of her nerve. By the time they reached the medical wing, the young woman's heart was in her throat.
"Please give her a neural buffer," Luminus requested.
"That's not necessary..."
"The moment you enter that room, you will be bombarded with images strong enough to twist your very heart and soul. You must be as prepared as possible."
She let the trusted elder set the metal headband around her temples. "I will wait outside for you. If I feel you are in danger, I will come to help you."
She nodded mutely, a grateful smile on her lips. Then, she turned around, and slowly walked into the eerie ward that housed the unfortunate victim of Phaedra's bitterest wrath.
By now the technicians had left, creating an illusion of privacy. Spectra swallowed to moisten her dry throat.
He lay on the cot almost peacefully, his only motion the slow rise and fall of his chest. He had been drugged, no doubt to prevent him from harming himself in his feverish thrashing.
Though he was far from peaceful. Even before Spectra deactivated the protective buffer, she felt the electricity in the air.
"Father," she murmured, hovering at his bedside, "it's me... Spectra."
She paused. She wasn't waiting for a response, for she knew he couldn't provide one. Yet she still hoped her words reached him, somehow.
Shivering with anguish and fear, she sat down on the chair beside him. Hesitantly, she grasped his hand. Her eyes had blurred with tears, but she didn't bother to wipe them. Instead, she lifted her free hand, and pulled off the buffer.
Had she not been seated, the dizzying swirl of confusion, panic, and agony would've stumbled her. As it was, she swayed against the psychic assault, her grip tightening on Gaius' hand.
She trembled as she marshaled her strength, blocking out the distraction of his pain. And then, she released her counterattack.
Her thoughts were a balm, mild and soothing to the aching soul. She drew from the depths of her heart, meditating on the love she sustained for her father, and her mother. She focused on happier times, when they were a family united. Back before compromise, duty, and tragedy, there had only been love.
At first the strain was hardly bearable, as she pushed against a mental wall that was trying its hardest to crush her efforts. Yet slowly, her persistence was rewarded. The storm of Gaius' mind eased.
"Father," she breathed, her eyes swimming, "can you hear me?"
He didn't respond. His eyes didn't flutter, nor did his hand return her desperate grip. No telepathic whisper wafted through her mind. And still, she just knew he could hear her. On some level, he was aware of her.
It was more than she had expected.
"On Earth, today is dedicated to the people they love," she told him softly, "and I chose to spend it with you."
* * *
A lone messenger stood outside the chamber that was once the traitor's personal quarters. The last man to enter this door had been obliterated by the empress.
He had stood in that very spot for nearly an hour. Nervous eyes glanced at the unassuming round disk that sat in his palm. He had no idea what was contained on that disk, for it would only activate when in the presence of the unique energy signature of its intended audience.
Suddenly, his collar began choking him. What was the old saying about shooting the messenger?
How did I end up the royal messenger? he wondered, not for the first time.
Still, he took solace in the simple fact that he had survived this long.
Gulping what might be his final breath, the Denebian stepped through the doorway.
"Speak your business," Phaedra demanded. She still sat at the computer terminal, obsessively perusing whatever information the traitor had collected.
What is it that so captivates her, to leave us marooned in this jungle??
The messenger knew better than to voice his thoughts. "Empress, you have received a message."
The Denebian Empress turned around, fixing a skeptical stare at the peon. "Who even knows where we are?"
The messenger felt his throat close at the ruby glare of Phaedra. "Whenever a Denebian ship is destroyed, a beacon is automatically sent in all directions to alert anyone in the Empire. No doubt our signal was traced."
He bowed low, and set the round disk on the floor. "This is encoded, so it is meant for your eyes only. Good day, Empress."
He didn't wait to be dismissed. Given Phaedra's ill temper of late, another volcanic eruption could very well be in store.
Phaedra ignored the messenger's departure entirely. Instead, she rose to her feet, and approached the disk.
As soon as she came within three feet, a flash of light erupted from the center of the disk. The light stretched to a few inches shy of six feet, and wavered to create a shape.
The empress' eyes narrowed venomously. "Acheron..."
The man that took shape before her was about her own height, with broad shoulders only emphasized by the regal coat and thick cape. Deep green hair rested around his face, reaching his strong jaw. His face was as hard and impassive as stone, and his rich burgundy stare was filled with cold disregard.
Simply put, it was the same unflappable expression Phaedra always saw when she faced the only being in the Empire of higher station than her.
She knew it was a pre-recorded hologram. Edenia was light years too distant from anywhere in the Empire to receive a signal. That point gave the empress some comfort... she was in no mood to truly speak to her lord and husband.
Even though this was his first message to her in over a standard year, Lord Acheron had no warm greeting or words of concern to offer his wife. ^You've killed Mor'se.^
She gaped in open astonishment.
^You disappoint me, Phaedra. Not only did you not claim the Diadem, you managed to destroy a perfectly good warship, and you personally eliminated one of our finest scholars.^
She glared. "Damnable, traitorous spies," she seethed, her fists clenching, "When I find out who dares to undermine me by reporting my every action to that self-important wind bag, I'll feed him to a pack of wolverines!"
^He tutored my father, myself, and my son.^
The empress snarled at the insinuation. "Our son, Acheron... Daimon is our son. And he is better off without Mor'se and his influence. Look how wonderful you turned out."
^You will not kill another one of my subjects. And you will not carry out this mission unchaperoned.^
Phaedra's crimson eyes began to burn in outrage. What did he just say??
^By the time you receive this message, Celea's ship will be approximately one standard day from Edenia. She will ferry you to Earth, and make sure you accomplish your objectives. The conquest of Fesp has been completed, and she has no other reason to stay there. Perhaps someone with royal blood will find a way to defeat the humans that vex you so.^
Then, without bidding farewell, the image blinked out of existence... not that Phaedra even noticed. Instead, she stepped toward the disk, crushing the intricate machine with the sharp heel of her foot.
"Chaperon??" she repeated, her voice strained by the fierce anger smoldering within. "He sends my own daughter to chaperon me? Arrogant bastard!!"
She was too far beyond angry to even think straight. Instead, she stared at her reflection through the shattered glass of Acheron's hologram device. And as she met her own raging glare, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she would have led had she married a man that actually gave a damn about her.
