Manifest

I wake up to the sound of bees, or the feeling rather, of their fluttering wings and stabbing tails tearing my stomach and jostling my insides. I’ve never needed an alarm; I’ve always trusted the inner workings of my body to wake me before sunrise. It’s the outer parts that make it hard to get up on time though. Today the branches that strap me to bed feel tighter. Taking only a few more minutes than usual, I work to weave out the roots that tether me to my mattress until my arms are released and once again mine. I stand, ignoring the branches as they leave my arms and travel around my torso and legs, allowing for easier movement. I keep my morning routine short as my mother rushes me into the car. They say the first day of school is always the worst, but they also say first impressions are the most important thing. So I have to be my best self on my worst day. I have to be put together while trying not to completely fall apart. I find this contradiction to be less than comforting as I fully lose myself to the anticipation of what’s to come. 

“You’re going to be late,” my mother says, glaring at me. We got here five minutes ago but my branches are holding tight and I can’t stop staring at the dashboard. “Edith! Come on!” “It’s going to kill me.” 

She sighs, “It’s high school, not a fire-breathing dragon.” 

“I’d prefer the dragon. Dragons don’t lure children in with smiles and education and false promises of a bright future right before locking them behind metal doors and sucking out their souls with math and grades and conforming social structures and questionable lunch meat. They just eat you, no trick, no trap, no torture, just chomp and swallow, quick and simple.” 

I can hear her eyes rolling. “Nice. Very dramatic. Now get out.” 

I reach for the handle but a thick block of ice forms around my fingers keeping me from getting a hold of it. 

“What if they don’t like me?” 

“You’ll be fine,” she sighs.

“What if the teachers are strict and mean?” What if I lose control? 

“What if the sky falls? What if the ground opens up and swallows you whole?” she says impatiently. 

“You’re not listening. I’m not sa—“ 

“No you’re not listening, like usual. Faith Edith. Just have faith. Trust me, a little goes a long way…” I feel her look sideways at me, “…and so does smiling.” 

The hypocrisy is enough to get me out. My branches push the door open, pulling me outside and shutting the door. The hot air that consumes me does little to thaw my frozen hands. Shoving them in my pockets, I take in the structure before me. 

The gray concrete is wide, paralleling the entire parking lot. It rises three stories high, blocking the low morning sun and casting an even darker gray overcast over the parking lot. The middle ends in a sharp point, similar to that of a steeple. The giant once white letters—slightly grayed with time—read “Gardenia High School.” A wide gray concrete path leads up the gray steps which lead to the gray doors. It’s all, miserably, overwhelmingly gray. The only color combating the color, other than the bottleneck of students crowded by the door, are the strikingly black tentacles spewing out from the doorway. The darkness consumes anything beyond it, leaving the interior in a curtain of black. Its extensions span out onto the walls winding out like branches—no, veins, like a life force formed from within. I watch as they bend and curve around the building, each of the ends lifting to curve towards me. Nope, not doing this. But before I can turn around and make my escape, I hear wheels skidding as the car takes off, leaving me utterly alone. No goodbye. No good luck. Absolutely no going back. 

I don’t know how long it’s been until the bell rings out, marking the first interval of the day. Class. I have to get to class. I start forward but nearly dislocate my ankles, finding that my feet remain anchored to the ground. The roots have dug themselves deep into the pavement during the long moments I’ve been standing here. Inconvenient, but nonetheless, I push forward. One by one I pull each foot from the ground, tearing up the ground leaving behind large holes of dirt and torn up concrete. I lose more precious moments as my branches reroot themselves into the ground with each step, forcing me to repeat the process until I reach the doors. I still can’t see past the dark but luckily the entrance is much emptier now, allowing me one more moment to myself. I breathe in deeply, drawing in as much air as the branches allow, before letting out the waste and stepping into the shadows.

The sudden draft hits me with cold air that whips my hair back, leaving my neck bare for mere seconds before my branches rush to cover the exposed skin. The interior is a much brighter gray and the hallway contains an ever shrinking crowd as students continue to file into classrooms. With the branches now much looser around my feet, although still heavy, I am able to pass through with much more ease. That is, until a student bumps my shoulder passing by. I feel my branches shift as they grow hundreds of thick, protective thorns reaching no more than a couple inches out. Great. Just what I needed. I maneuver carefully through the hallway so as not to cut anyone on the way to class. Every few seconds I look away from the bodies around me only to check the room numbers until I find the right one. On the way, I get caught on a few shirts and bags, tearing only fabric but never skin. Once I get there, I find yet another obstacle as I open the door. 

I stand still in front of the doorway, pausing to examine the darkness already taking over, expanding and kneading into thick bands that cross and intertwine into a woven pattern that blocks the entrance. I reach out, testing the obstacle, and gratefully find it to have a gummy, flexible texture saving me from an otherwise solid, more immovable one. I pressed forward, first with my hands then the rest of my arms trying to tear apart the tension in the material. As the bands expand forward with me, stretching and feeling tighter, I realize I’ll need much more force. Carefully I lean into it pushing with my shoulder and back, fighting its pull and need to revert back. It isn’t until I drop my full weight into it that the bands finally snap and release me. I stumble forward, barely managing to keep my feet under me before bracing myself on a desk. An empty one. Keeping my head down, I struggle to work around the branches on my chest and arms, which don’t budge, as I force myself into the seat. 

I keep my eyes down the entire time, not daring to look into anyone else’s, not daring to let anyone look into mine. It isn’t until the next bell rings out and the teacher steps in front of the class that I can bring myself to look up. She starts to call out names and I feel the bands around my neck tighten,

seizing my breath. I try to reach up to loosen them but my branches hold my arm down, pinning them to the desk. All I can do is watch as a shadowy figure pours out from her, hovering in front of me, its arms reaching out as if ready to grab me. It opens its mouth and eyes discernible only by the red light glowing from within. Its face curves into a sinister smile as my name is spoken, “Edith?” I try to speak but only manage to wheeze, the pressure in my head building up, threatening a different darkness. “Edith?” The voice calls again. This time I close my eyes and focus on my branches, on relaxing my thoughts and muscles and forcing out the word. 

“Here.” It comes out almost as a whisper, but thankfully loud enough that she hears. I’m able to suck in more air, but this doesn’t stop the shadows. I watch as they rise along the corners of the walls, including the window, darkening the room, allowing the figure in front of me to grow much larger. It tilts its head over me pulling its mouth into a sharp sneer and I lean back as far as my branches will allow, which isn’t much. Feeling its heat just inches away from me, I close my eyes and brace myself for inevitable consumption. 

“Hey Edith, you’re new right?” My eyes slam open. The shadows seize. I look at the girl to my left and I’m stunned by her golden hair and deep blue eyes which are turned up at the corners as she looks intently into my own. “I’m Evie,” she says, offering her hand. I reach out and shake, my hand guarded by the branches allowing no room for touch. She smiles at me and the darkness draws back, receding into the deep corners of the room, letting in the light. 

She continues, “you looked so deep in thought. Are you nervous or philosophical?” “Both.” I breathe in any sliver of confidence I can find. “I was wondering the best way to escape in case the teacher is really just a robot sent here to eliminate the weakest of our generation.” In what feels like the longest second of my life, her face shifts as she registers what I said then spreads into an even wider smile as she laughs…actually laughs and it sounds like a cool breeze on a hot day. She invites me to sit with her at lunch and my branches release me, feeling more like a knitted sweater than the usual constraints.

Later, I follow the crowd into the cafeteria and find myself in the line for food. My branches are hugging me but there’s no pain, no sharpness. Time travels slowly as inch by inch I move closer to the front. The branches don’t lose slack as I simply nod a thank you and force my shaking hands to take the plate of food. Turning towards the tables, my feet stop at the pounding of a hammer against my chest. The busyness of the crowd buzzes in my ears, muffling my thoughts. I look around the room, scanning and taking note of the large square tables set in what seems to be an attempt at a uniform set of rows, made uneven by the waves of students that crash and wade into them throughout the day. I glance around the edges, looking for that one familiar face. “The far left,” she had said. The problem I’ve only now come to realize is that “left” changes depending on where you stand. There are entrances on nearly every wall, save for the side connected to the kitchen where I’ve just received my food. Maybe it was a mistake…or maybe it wasn’t. 

I start to debate my chances of surviving the 10 mile walk home if I dump my food and escape now, as well as my mother’s wrath if she finds out I skipped, when a rather tall boy bumps into my arm nearly knocking the plate out of my hands. He turns to look back at me and holds one hand out near my shoulder and one to his chest apologetically as he says, “Oh my bad, didn’t see you there.” If only life were that easy. He turns to walk away then pauses to look back at me, his eyes taking me in, examining my face and body. Fire rises under my skin just as a look of realization, or rather, recognition washes over him. 

“You’re her aren’t you? The new girl? What did she call you…um Ellie, Eden, E—“ “Edith,” My skin starts to sag from my bones as the flames in my chest rise. 

“Oh right, Edith…well uh…nice to meet you I guess,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He drops his hand but doesn’t move. He’s staring, waiting for a response that doesn’t come as the flames take my lungs and my breath. He starts to awkwardly turn away but I’m too busy fighting the urge to reach up and hold my skin in place as it threatens to slide off completely, leaving my insides raw. Finally he gives me that “you’re weird” look and turns away facing a table to the right. I follow his eyes to her, Evie. She’s half risen from her seat looking towards us, towards him, her blonde curls bounce as she waves rather emphatically in our direction. He moves towards the table but she keeps her gaze on me, her smile wide and toothy, sending my branches into a shake that loosens their grip. She beckons me over, pointing to the empty chair beside her. Instantly, the fire dims and my skin tightens back up. I walk toward her, moving faster than I should as I adjust to the sudden unusual lightness in my feet. 

It isn’t until I settle beside her, my branches easier to manage in the unattached chair, that I notice just how many people are there. Too many. They’re all pretty much shoulder to shoulder with extra people squeezed in at the corners. The table is a mess of food and crumbs and foam plates, some of which are stacked lazily into towers leaning at unstable angles. They’re all talking and laughing, and few of them are waving their arms emphatically, their voices raised in playfulness. The utter gluttony and chaos of it all is as revolting as it is incredible. Evie turns to me and introduces me to the table, sharing their names, each one giving a quick nod or wave before returning to conversation. Evie faces me and grabs hold of my arm, my branches quickly blocking her touch as she leans in to speak so only I can hear her. 

“I know they can be…well…wild, but I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.” Love them. But will they love me? I nod in agreement and she smiles again, then looks down at my full plate, “Oh! Are you going to eat that? I just love apples!” I stare down at the red fruit, a beacon among the rather inedible looking food. I nod again and she grabs it gleefully. That alone makes my branches tremble loose. I look down to see the bark crack and fall off, revealing thin green vines that are wrapped gently around my arm growing leaves and to my disbelief, flowers, small bright blue flowers. Just as she starts to take a bite, Adam turns her head towards him and takes a bite from the other side. She releases it to punch him in the arm and he leans in, whispering in her ear and she giggles as he looks down at her with a lustful gaze. I cringe and turn back to my food, staring at the soft mush of meat and possibly potatoes that aren’t unlike the squishiness of my skin just moments ago. The binds around my stomach squeeze and I don’t blame them. 

“You’re too obvious.” I whip my head to my right. The girl next to me has dark hair and dark eyes. 

“Lucy,” I recall out loud.

“Yep.” Her calculating eyes snake over me and I feel exposed. “You’re not eating. Here.” She pushes a black can towards me: an energy drink. “You’ll need it to get through the day.” I take it. It’s probably the only thing I can fit into my stomach right now. I feel her eyes on me as I take a sip, puckering at the influx of blackberry and fizz that takes over my mouth. I set it down and stare back at her, finding her face unreadable. “What’s too obvious?” 

She smiles, “You are. You’re observing, judging. It’s good that you are, it keeps you aware. But if I can notice, so can other people, and it’s when they notice that they start hiding things, start lying.” She gestures to the rest of the table. “Then you lose your leverage.” 

“Leverage?” 

“Good. You’re asking the right questions.” She lowers her voice. “Your leverage is your power. They’ll want all of you, but give yourself to them and it’ll cost you your power. Give just enough to let them think they have it, they won’t search for the rest. Save some for yourself and you’ll still have control.” 

“Power…control.” I repeat, letting the words sink in. 

“Mhm. Power,” she says as she points to my head, “and control,” as she points to my heart, or is she pointing to the bands around my chest…no she can’t be…can she? “You can do it, it’s easy. Try on me and see. I’ll start. Why aren’t you eating?” 

I look down at the schmuck on my plate, carefully picking out the words before turning back to her. “I don’t want to,” I say, forcing a nonchalant tone. 

“Good. Really good. It’s not a lie but it’s not the truth either, is it?” 

I shrug, keeping my face casual. I look down to see the barks on my right arm twinging. I focus on the tightening vines, making them loosen to form a thick protective armor. It feels comfortable and strong, and for once, I feel control. 

“See, I knew you’d be a natural,” she says, and I look back up to see her face pull into a wicked smile. It doesn’t scare me as I smile back.

As the day goes on I find I have more classes with both of them and a few of the other kids at the table. I stick with them and they stick with me. They ask questions which I respond to with just enough to satisfy them, earning me approving looks from Lucy. But I also join their wildness and conversations, making them laugh and earning more smiles and interlocked arms from Evie. By the end of the day, the vines and armor have taken the entirety of each of their respective sides of my chest and legs. But even more miraculously, I feel a spark brighten within me, one of comfort and confidence…and maybe even a little faith. 

When the day is finally over and I say my goodbyes, I find Mother in our discussed rendezvous section of the parking lot. I approach the car, my feet feeling heavier as my body remembers the tension from this morning. 

“You made friends,” she states proudly, “I don’t wanna say I told you so but—” “Then don’t!” I snap. “I just met some people. It takes more than a day to make a friend, Mother. It takes time and effort.” The anger in my voice surprises us both and I feel my flame flicker. 

She clicks her tongue and glares at me. “One day and you’ve got a whole new attitude.” She shakes her head looking forward and starts to drive. “You always make it sound so hard. Meeting people? Making friends? Connecting to people should be the easiest thing in the world. It was designed that way.” She keeps her eyes forward. 

“It should be, and yet, it isn’t. It’s hard. Being a human, having human emotion, having a human soul. It’s hard.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

I sigh and look out the window, staring up at the wandering clouds. “Ya, I wouldn’t expect you too.”

She turns her head for a few seconds, finally noticing my arms “Did they pass your judgment at least?” 

“Time mother…in time.” She stays silent after that. 

Now I look down at my arms, examining them in full. On my left, comfort and love and…faith. On my right, strength and power and control. I close my eyes, relaxing into my binds as I let one side take over, consuming the other. A new fire rages within, and this time I welcome it.

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