Kayla returns to the present. Letting the flashbacks remain in the past. She runs through her solo choreography. Waltz, pirouette, pilè, twirl, wide lunge, fouettés, arabesque, assemble, attitude, penchè. Battement. Jete. Releve. Tendu. Then she freestyles the rest with long jumps. High leg spins. Lenghty twirls. Elegant poses. Spread eagle lunges.  

The fabric of the tutu breathes in the air of the room, flowing as the clouds do. Surfing. Kayla creates poise art in a fluid dance. Her body is a well-oiled machine. A force of pure frustration. An outlet of artistic angst. As if made of clay, her limbs form complex tangles, shapeshifting into remarkable figures. The style of modern and classic ballet merge.

She ends the choreography by sticking the landing with one pointed foot on the floor while the other reaches far behind. Kay holds the pose, keeping as still as possible. She doesn't move an inch.

Clapping sounds from the doorway. Kay looks to the door. Isabell is there. Her blonde hair is in a high pony. "You're beginning to dance with emotion...not as someone following a lesson." Her squeaky voice resonates the studio.

Kayla ends the stance, relaxing her limbs from the rigorous workout. "I thought we're supposed to follow the lessons."

"Not when on the stage. The best dancers morph into their craft...without restraints. Without fretting over the mathematics of the performance. Ballet is more than forcing demands. It's about soul. Passion. Your practice is the first I've seen where my lessons are dismissed."

"Thank you." Kayla bows gracefully.

"Your drive has improved. What has changed?"

"My dreams show me my true path."

"Which is?"

Kay choose to be honest. "That I have power within...and that it's time to wield it."

"Indeed, you do." She walks away. "The solo is yours. Prepare yourself for tomorrow's show."

Kayla's mouth drops to the floor. All the craziness of yesterday disappears, now buried under excitement. Winning the solo trumps the horrors of last night. She's ecstatic. Thrilled. Happy. Kay covers her mouth, hopping up and down, squealing. Kayla dashes to the hall phone to dial Darius's number. As soon as he answers, she blurts, "I won the solo!!"

"Yes! I knew you would, congratulations!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Maybe your parents will lessen your punishment."

"I'll just apologize, I don't care. Today is the best day ever!" She singsongs. "I'll call you later, I gotta tell them the news."

Kayla swoops up her bookbag and runs home. She doesn't even change from her uniform, due to exhilaration. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!! When home, she find her mother flipping pancakes in the kitchen. James sorts through folders at the island. Kay jets from the elevator.

"When did you leave the house??!!" James roars.

"I'm sorry, I went to the studio to work on choreography. I should have asked first."

"YES, YOU SHOULD HAVE!" He places down the folders and march her way.

"I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry for yelling. Can we just forget it?"

"No, we can't. You're not supposed to go out, you're grounded!"

"But I won the solo..." Kay clench her teeth. "Isabell said so. Please...can we celebrate??" Kay twiddles her thumbs, peering at her father with a precious puppy dog look. "Please, daddy. I'm sorry."

James tries his best to resist the adorable stare. The pouty lips and big sad eyes. But the power of his baby girl wins against his fierceness. James cracks a grin. "You know I can't say no to that look."

"She knows." Mary chuckles.

"You're still grounded...."

"I know."

James sighs, then shrugs. "Congratulations!" He slow claps. "That's my girl!"

Mary spins around with Kayla. "You'll be featured in the Chicago Tribune!!"

"Joffrey Ballet School is in the bag." Her dad is proud.

"Everyone will know her name!"

"Let's drink." James browses a walk-in wine cellar. He shakes up a bottle of sparkling cider.

"No, don't!" Mary flees the foamy spray, fearing getting soaked.

Kayla stays put as her dad uncaps the bottle. The fake alcohol hoses her down. She sniggers goofily, twirling around.

KOTA

The Ahokas inspect the kitchen phone. Odina bites her nails. Matto paces back and forth. Kota sits at the table with Grandad and Dy. "The day is still young; they may call by noon." Grandad is optimistic.

"Hopefully." Matto mutters.

"The girl returned home...we should take that as a good sign. Our summance didn't scare her away."

"So....does that means she knows of the supernatural world?" Dyani ponders. 

"I hope guess so..." Odina goes to the sink to tidy up the dishes. "Should we have left more than our name and telephone number? Something to place urgency?"

"The key is avoiding being overbearing." Her husband counsels.

"What if they think we're salespeople? Mom may be right." Dyani says.

"Another visit will clear any confusion." Grandad suggests.

"Are you sure you're strong enough?" Kota frets. He's on guard with his grandfather due to his all-knowing abilities. As a mortal, he wasn't able to sense how slow blood flows when someone is exhausted. Now he can. The reduce chittering in his veins is worrying. Grandad's body is running low on resources. I have to convince him to stay. "Maybe you shouldn't ride along."

"I am fine." He pats Kota's hand and stubbornly shakes his head. "Shall we go at noon?"

Matto halts pacing to eye the phone. "Let's give them more time before being hasty."

"What will you say?" Dyani peers between her parents.

"The truth...that we need their daughter's help,"

"And...if they ask what the help is for?"

"We'll tell the truth. If we're believed to be insane, so be it. This is our only chance."

She doesn't combat her father. But Kota is aware of why his sister is asking this. Saying a vampire needs help from their daughter would sound like a prank. A joke. A late Halloween hoax. I need to be visible...because I'll be the proof of the truth. My appearance will end all of their disbelief. 

One look at me, will awaken shock in their souls. Same as with my tribe. My lost tribe...who damned me because of my dead skin and devil eyes. My unholy mark on the universe is hard to miss. I know my folks want to try the easy way. The plan that's best for not inciting fear. But that is the only way to convert nonbelievers. How can someone believe what they don't see??

Kota and his family eye the phone until noon. No one speaks until the clock strikes 12. Matto sighs. "No one may be home."

"Saturday is usually a relax day." His wife contends. "Or maybe the receptionist forgot to deliver the message."

"Maybe." He shakes his head. "This may be a shot in the dark. We have to consider other options."

Grandad is deep in thought, His wrinkled face bunched up. "I doubt there are more Spell Benders. We are only a few in number. The last gathering only held ten total...that was decades ago..."

"Do you still have contact?" His son eagerly locks eyes with him.

"No...our last discussion was a disbandment."

"Disbandment?"

"Yes..."

"Why?"

"For our survival." He responds drearily. "There are those who seek to use magic as a weapon. For selfish gain. Our power is unlimited. The true demise of our kind is corruption. I've seen many fall to the dark side for their captor."

"How can that be?" Kota is dazzled. "If your powers are unlimited, how can someone hold you captive??"

Grandad grimaces wearily. "Vampires have compulsion and can control a human... as if a puppet master. Many Benders had no choice. We fled to preserve the legacy. This girl is the only one who is not hiding...most likely because she is unaware. Which means she may be of little help." His ominous voice discourages everyone in the room. The small shed of hope fades away. Everyone is drained of optimism. Grandad notes this. "Do not worry." He grins pleasantly. "Patience is key."

I don't think we'll get a call from the Harris family. The realistic outcome is that they didn't receive the message. Or they did and chose to pay it no mind. After all, we're strangers. They know nothing of us. Our name is meaningless. I want to believe this Kayla girl is my savor. I want to believe...but these circumstances are breaking my spirit. Is faith blocking my path to her? Are these obstacles meant to be? Are they a sign she cannot help?

His pale eyes never leave the clock. The second hand drags on for hours. Kota examines it...even when everyone disperses. He barely hears them bid him goodnight. His attention is locked in on time, as if it still dictates his life. Time is for mortals. A way to measure their existence. What good does it do me now that my existence is never-ending? Why do I care for the meaningless milliseconds? The meaningless strokes?

Come midnight, he decides to leave the empty kitchen to the backyard. A tiny plot of land compared to their home in Oklahoma. Everything here is compact. The buildings are so cramped. The grass isn't as green. The soil is poisonous. He bends down to take a handful of the cold, hard soil. The dirt grains sprinkle to the ground as if made of pebbles. His artistic eyes shoot to the murky sky. Another night with no stars. I think this dismal atmosphere is a sign. I'm just as trapped as the stars and as hard as the soil. I should accept this life...just as the environment has. He breathes out roughly.

Police sirens blare from down the street. The whistling of a train resounds the air. Kota sits on a bench. He buries his head into his hands. The brisk winds of autumn mush his hair, tossing it wildly. The black strands cut across his zombie face. Kota's eyes are far away. He focus on the gravity of the wind. 

The particles are visible. Air...an element unseen by the naked eye is clearly detectible. The mist is not the same as fog...or as thick as a cloud. The air particles are slightly masked, yet outlined in a strange haze. If he wasn't concentrating on the spot, this discovery would've been lost to him. Kota tracks the gush as it journey beyond through the trees.

The importance of patience dawns on him. I could be like the wind. Patient and constant. Assured and steady. Being trapped and hardened isn't my only option. Grandad was right. Patience is key...tomorrow is a new day.

KAYLA

Today is the big day! I'll be soloing tonight! ME!! WOW! I still can't believe it. Kayla packs her bookbag with her stage wardrobe. The beam on her face is a mile long. She zips her book bag and slings it across her shoulder. Her bare feet dash up the stairs to the rustic art studio. Pure sunlight blaze through the windows. Kay grabs a pencil and goes to the canvas. She draws the rest of her routine. Sketching the last of the ballerina figures in tutus. When done, the canvas is full. Kayla smiles with accomplishment. "Yes!" She clasps her hands together. 

Kay darts down the glass staircase and rush into her room to change from her robe. Her ballet crew is on the way. Even though it's only 12pm and the show isn't until 6, they still have to prep. Meal prep, stage arrangements, practice, and stretching.

There's a charter bus outside, she peeps it from the bathroom window. Kayla dresses in leggings and a baggy, off the shoulder shirt. Her feet slip into sneakers and trace to the door. "See you later!" She yells to her parents, who sip on coffee. She doesn't hear their response because she boards the elevator and presses the button. The white charter bus is glamorous. It's the limo of buses. So large and shiny. The wheels are gigantic. Kayla takes her time climbing the jumbo steps, so she doesn't fall. 

"READY FOR TONIGHT!" Mya screams from the back of the bus, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"YES!!" Kay shouts back.

Jia gives her a big hug. "Congratulations on the solo!!"

"Thank you!" Kay squeals.

From the corner of her eye, she spots a blonde girl mugging her down. I expected some jealousy. All of us here were competing for the spot. Most of the girls are definitely upset. The blonde girl leans to whisper into her friend's ear. Both of them maliciously stare at her. Their thoughts are so easily translated to: Why you? I deserved the solo. BITCH!

Isabell detects their rudeness. She waves her finger side to side. "Behave yourselves! Today is the same as any, we are a team! No ugliness is allowed." The instructor singles out the two, who hurriedly fix their bitter expressions. "ALRIGHT, ARE MY GIRLS READY?!" Isabel acts as a hype man.

"YES!" They all cheer.

"ONE MORE TIME WITH ATTITUDE!"

"YESSSSS!!!!"

"THERE WE GO!" She applauds. "Now be seated, we'll be there soon." She stroll to the front of the bus, where a food stand is. The table is full of protein shakes, wheat toast covered in avocado.

Kay and Jia head Mya's way. She can't help but stare at the back of the blonde girl's head. We barely talk, but Raven is top five in the class, she felt she deserved the title. Deserved the spotlight. I would be upset if I lost the shot...especially with how hard I worked. She'll get it next time...hopefully she won't hate me for this. We all want to impress our parents. We're all banking on the solo, so they pay us more attention. She must feel like a disappointment. I know I'd feel that way. Kay takes the middle seat, sandwiched between her besties. They hold hands, giggling cheerfully. 

For the first time ever, she detects an enchanted atmosphere. The thrill of each dancer is easy to read. Hints of yellow silhouettes them. The ultimate aura for joy. There's a sisterhood. We may not be friends, but dedication connect us as one. As one dream. We'll kill it tonight! 

Isabel hands out healthy treats so her girls can munch. The dancers need a hefty dose of protein to rile up their muscles. The ride is 30 minutes, traffic is heavy. The theater is only 3 blocks away. Most people are on lunch break. Their stylish cars confirm the wealth of their professions. This reminds her of her parents. They'll be at her show. Being her biggest fans...her personal cheerleaders. Kayla is stoked.  

She easily visualizes the Harris Theatre; a square building made completely of black-lined windows. All of a sudden, her mind is photorealistic, as if standing before the performing arts center at this very moment. My mind is doing the time travel thing again. Same as in law class when I reversed the past. I wonder how far back I can go. Days? Months? Years? Centuries?