Pink and Sparkly
Music plays. A
little riff on a piano, and then the unmistakable pop beat of Jenna Kidd.
The video fades into Nicole’s super-organized bedroom. As the beat intensifies, Nicole and Amy bounce into the shot, dancing to the No. 1 downloaded song from the pop sensation. Amy’s hair flicking is a sight to behold, and Nicole is all smiles as she enjoys goofing around the room.
The pair gradually gets more out of breath as they pull exaggerated lip-syncing techniques. Nicole presses the volume control on her remote and the music quiets.
“Heyyyy!”
“Long time no see!” Amy waves, as though the absence hadn’t been her doing.
“This week, we’re going to be talking concert wear. Because, as you may know, Fairfax is going to be host to a very special guest next weekend in the awesome Jenna Kidd.” Nicole pulls open a poster of the pretty redhead. Amy pumps her fist with glee.
“You might also have gathered that we’re fans?” Amy adds wryly.
“I think she may be the only artist we agree on.” Nicole looks to Amy.
“Her and The Killers, maybe.”
“So, the big question: what to wear to go see Jenna?” Following Amy’s overly dramatic sweeping motion of her arm, Nicole points the camera toward her bed, where twenty or so neatly folded Jenna T-shirts adorn the covers.
“It’s a fine line. Which shirt to go for — newest album cover or original? Cuz, like, if you want to show people that you really love your artist, then surely you have to demonstrate that you’ve been there from day one.”
“Or you totally could’ve shopped for it on eBay,” Amy offers.
“True. So, it’s all about the message you want to give out to others there. Cuz, if you think about it, you’re part of a community where you have this major thing in common with everyone. We all love Jenna Kidd, and she’s going be singing for us, and we’re all going to be dancing to her music.”
Nicole looks across at Amy, who is pulling a stone-faced look of total boredom.
“Trust Nix to create a complicated sociological analysis of a pop concert. Cuz what I’m more interested in is cuteness.” She closes in on the camera. “Cuteness, people! Which one of these babies is going to make me look cuter? Because if we get on the big screen, I wanna look fierce!”
Amy grabs the camera and hovers over the T-shirts. “I choose … this one!” She holds up a little black top with a picture of Jenna Kidd on a red glitter background.
Nicole laughs and picks up hers.
“This is my favorite. It’s hot pink, and if we can get her to sign it, it’ll be a collector’s item.”
Amy stares at the T-shirt.
“Again? Sociological studies and economics? That’s all you can think about?”
Nicole stares plainly back at Amy. “At least I’ve thought things through. Jenna Kidd may not be around forever, so there’s a point where it makes sense to sell my collection while it’s still worth something.”
Amy gasps. “Sell the collection? Are you mental?” Amy grabs Bob and makes the horse aggressively nod “yes” to the camera.
“Come on, you know I’m right.” Nicole grabs Amy’s shirt. “Take this shirt, for example. Oh, wait — I feel the value going down already.”
“Give me that back!”
“This worthless thing?”
Amy jumps at Nicole and tries to wrestle the T-shirt away from her. Nicole fights back.
A hand reaches for the remote and the music returns. The screen fades to purple, with scrawled letters.
Peace Out! Ames & Nix xxx
Just Some Field Research
“And this girl
is our prime suspect: Nicole Aaronson.” Agent Carter changed the laptop slide to show a series of images of the skinny, brunette teen onscreen at the front of the room.
Several of the local agents were gathered in the P.R.E.S.S. briefing center of the FBI headquarters downtown to hear about their new direction in the Reston investigations.
Carter felt right at home here. The Information Dominance Center was a mecca of modern office technology. The walls were lined with flat-screen televisions. Futuristic chairs created by the same designer who fashioned sets for the blockbuster Alien movies were generously spaced throughout the room, including a one-of-a-kind Command chair with a gazillion adjustments, buttons, and countless LCD screens. A curved control panel in the center of the long conference table was completely covered with touch-sceens from edge-to-edge and looked as though it could have been teleported from the bridge of the Star Trek Enterprise. To top it all off, the room had a state-of-the-art sound system that would project Carter’s voice clearly and with authority. The room represented nothing but the best for the FBI’s premier clandestine unit responsible for protecting the security of the United States in sometimes unorthodox ways. In the wake of September 11, no taxpayer expense had been spared to safeguard the nation’s citizens. It was moments like these — when Carter held the attention of some his country’s finest minds — that he knew he had found his calling.
“She may seem like a typical teen, but we have reason to believe she is carrying something destructive that puts this community at risk. It’s possible she doesn’t even realize she’s the cause of what’s happening, but she is the common denominator throughout all of the Reston mysteries.”
Agent Bishop slipped out a muted laugh in the back row, which triggered a sharp glare from Agent Carter up front. Bishop held up his hand in apology.
“We have agents following her vehicle. We’ve placed undercover agents in the school. We’re adding trackers to her car and her mother’s car. And we are in the process of putting a trace on her cell phone. The cell phone trace is taking longer than expected due to some legal problems with the phone carrier.”
As he surveyed the agents — all of them dutifully taking notes — Carter was irritated that his partner was continuing to smile in the back row.
“So what I need is to stay one step ahead of her. We need to know where she’s going next. We need to think like she does. And we need to be wherever she is going ahead of time to try to prevent whatever might happen next.”
Agent Bishop’s amusement could no longer be contained, and a guffaw escaped him that inadvertently sounded like a pig’s grunt. It was a noise that couldn’t be ignored, and it caused the entire assembly to turn their heads toward him.
“Agent Bishop, exactly what is so funny back there?”
“Sorry, Carter. Just some field research.” Bishop cleared his throat and became more serious now. “They’ll be going to the Jenna Kidd concert at the Patriot Center tonight.”
“And how exactly did you come about this information?” Carter asked, still ticked off.
Bishop held up his smartphone, which was playing the latest video on
AmesAndNix.com
. “Because they just told everybody on the Web.”
This kind of banter between the two veteran agents was typical, and the others in the room enjoyed their front-row seats to this event.
Bishop continued, “The prime suspect will be wearing a hot pink concert T-shirt, and her friend will be in a black T-shirt with a red glitter background.”
“Fine,” Carter said with a tinge of disgust through gritted teeth. He hated when his partner messed him up like this, but he knew all eyes were still on him. “Good work, Agent Bishop. Saddle up. Let’s get an observation team at the Patriot Center ASAP.”
Let Them Eat Cake Crumbs
Nicole finished the
last of her cappuccino and reclined in her seat. The outdoor heater was doing a good job of warming her under the watery, late-afternoon sunshine, which shone orange, angular shapes across the concrete plaza.
The plaza fountain had stopped its gurgling about an hour before, and the Reston Town Center was emptying of Sunday shoppers. The metal outdoor bistro table Nicole and her mom had been sitting at was only one of two that were occupied now.
Her mom had been insistent on their catching up after Amy had left their afternoon get-together. The frequently postponed trip to the mall had been turned into a coffee-and-cake afternoon, but the fun had concealed a serious task. Amy had been open about her leukemia, and Nicole’s mom had wanted to check in on Nicole. She had known about Amy’s condition weeks ago, but doctor-patient confidentiality had meant she couldn’t talk about it. Amy’s refusal to share the news with her friend meant that Nicole’s mom was silenced. Like the true professional she was, she had respected Amy’s decision, even if it had made things awkward at home.
Lots of things were now making way more sense to Nicole. She understood her mom’s previous comments in the sunroom about other people’s lives, as well as her mom and Amy’s brief conversation before the TV interview. It was funny how when you didn’t know something, the world could seem so confusing, and then when the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle you were missing turned up, the whole scene made sense.
In a way, it was a lot like Balancing. Ben’s research had offered Nicole not just an explanation, but also a hope for other ways to use her skills. She could entertain the possibility that her life might not always exist in just black and white, but would encompass the gray areas, too.
She wouldn’t always have to destroy to heal.
Nicole emptied the rest of her mom’s sugar packet into her cup and toyed with the granules with her teaspoon. Her mom had returned to a shop to pick up a dress she’d debated buying in the sale, and she’d left Nicole with a coffee and promised to return shortly. That was ten minutes ago, and now Nicole wished she’d brought a book.
A fluttering nearby drew her attention to a flock of pigeons. They were gathering to scavenge the leftover muffin crumbs and café scrapings.
One in particular was flapping its wings to very little effect. Upon closer inspection, Nicole could see that its wing had been damaged and it was also hobbling in a rather pathetic way. Its cooing capacity was undiminished, however. A sign said not to feed the birds, but Nicole threw the bird a few of the cake crumbs on her plate, and its excited hoots alerted the flock.
The weak pigeon was quickly pecked out of the way. Nicole thought she saw it stoop a little as it shuffled off while all of the other pigeons noisily scrabbled for the crumbs.
Then she had an idea.
It may be a bit premature, but with so few people around and a large number of test subjects, now seemed the perfect opportunity for an experiment.
Checking to make sure her mom still hadn’t emerged from the shop, Nicole knew she had time.
She observed all of the healthy pigeons cooing happily around the sickly bird. She felt the contentedness of each of the birds, and then the sadness of the injured bird that could only hobble.
In her mind’s eye, she saw each bird take a run up across the plaza and then very slowly flap its wings and lift. As the first one began to run, she imagined removing a feather from its wing. The bird felt a little jab — like a scratch of a fingernail on skin — but still it flew. The next one took a run up and, once more, Nicole’s invisible fingers plucked out a feather. The third, the fourth, the fifth — the same, and their feathers formed a neat pile on the ground.
Then she imagined that the injured bird had stepped into position and was preparing itself for a run up. All of a sudden, the feathers rose up in the air and planted themselves in its injured wings, one by one. This startled the bird, but soon its wings felt heavier, in a good way — like a warm blanket on a cold night.
Its wings began to flap. Its legs were suddenly healthy again, and it let out a coo.
All of a sudden, Nicole realized she was no longer imagining this bird.
Sure enough, she looked down to find the pigeon was restored to full health. It jerked its head around, as if taking in its newness. Its feet were healed, and its wings as downy and sleek as those of the others in its flock.
“Hey!” Nicole heard her mom call and beckon her over.
When she looked back, she saw that the flock had moved away.
As she stood up and scraped her chair back, the formerly feeble pigeon beat its wings a few times and majestically took flight. It hovered and flapped above her like it was rejoicing and thanking her.
Nicole beamed as the bird swooped away and above the plaza rooftops along with its flock — the entire pigeon flock. Nobody was left behind, and none looked worse for the wear for her Balancing.
Most importantly, all were alive.
Nicole greeted her mom with a grin and gave her a big, unexpected hug.
She had done it.
Now she had a plan, and if it worked, it would mean she could save her best friend after all.
The Chosen Ones
Nicole took in
the excited buzz of the concertgoers in the Patriot Center, now only minutes away from Jenna Kidd taking the stage. The last of the long queues of fans were finally being let in. The beat of the music from the sound system pounded across the enormous indoor arena.
Large screens to the sides of the stage projected the neons, bright pinks and glittery silvers of Jenna Kidd’s music videos across the faces of her audience. The last time Nicole had been here was for a basketball match, and the arena had been transformed both by the heart-stopping lighting effects and Jenna Kidd’s fans. It seemed that the thousands of people here had all opted for various Jenna T-shirts, and so the auditorium was a sea of color and light.
The stage lights swung ’round to spotlight the corner of the stage, and a rush of excitement rippled across the floor, up the railings and into the higher seats where Nicole and Amy were sitting. The friends exchanged excited glances as the arena lights began to dim.
The bass drum of Jenna’s big hit began to resonate though the Center, and it felt like it was shaking Nicole’s rib cage. Beside her, Amy was tapping her feet with a huge grin on her face, energized by the atmosphere and the music. It warmed Nicole’s heart to see Amy this way; the past week at school had been particularly hard for her best friend, who had battled fatigue by spending an unusual amount of time hanging out in the library. It was a sign of just how much things had changed, as the library used to be the last place Nicole would find Amy. Nicole recalled how concerned her mom had been for Amy, asking Nicole to keep a special eye on her. If there were any significant signs of weakness, Nicole was to bring them both straight home.
But Nicole was preparing to help Amy in a far bigger way than that. She felt nervous at the thought of what she was planning to do. Even though she had tried it out successfully in the pigeon experiment, Amy was a considerable step up from a bird.
Could it be possible? Were her fledgling powers enough to perform such a subtle Balance? Was she being selfish to even try? Nicole remembered the intensity of the feeling that had been required to trade places between Ethan and Mr. Geller, and she would be careful to steer clear of that. The main question was who to target. It had to be the strongest people who had excess life to spare. But whom should she choose?
Suddenly, the big screens beamed out a numerical countdown, and the excitement in the crowd began to build to a dizzying degree.
Five, four, three, two, one …
A crescendo of noise blew up all around, momentarily deafening the beat of the bass drum as the ecstatic audience greeted their pop star. Jenna danced onto the stage and was everything Nicole had expected her to be. Her diminutive form somehow filled the whole room. She was bigger than life — iridescent, full of spark and vitality, and the brightest light in a room packed with energy.
“Hey, Virginia!” Jenna shouted, and she held her microphone out to receive the reply.
The audience yelled back, united in its welcome.
Nicole shouted along with Amy as they held out their hands and waved.
The atmosphere was electric as Jenna began her first song. Her exuberance was infectious, and Nicole and Amy were soon jumping up and down to the music.
Peace, love, remembering you and me …
Despite the irresistible chords of her favorite song, however, Nicole found herself stepping away from the moment and becoming an observer to her world. It felt a little like the slowing of time when accidents happen. She was vividly aware of the colors all around her and the infinitesimal details of her fellow Jenna fans.
Down in front of the stage, the sea of people rippled like ocean waves, intensified by the music. For a moment, Nicole felt this could be anytime in the past, present or future. Suddenly, the wave of people in the floor sections looked like the ancient healing pool from a thousand years ago. Nicole remembered the Fountain of Youth bathers in the 18th-century painting Ben had shown her. She recalled how those entering the pool were gnarled and ill, joining the many reclining people happy to be bathing in the waters, while the people who had been rejuvenated were climbing out the other side.
The sounds around her echoed and morphed as her vision would blur and then sharpen. Nicole felt a tingling that resonated from her heart into her hands that she had never felt before. It was as if she had the power of the entire arena in her fingertips. She could feel life. She was omnipotent.
Jenna played song after song after song. For Nicole, moments of sheer ecstasy intermingled with the sense of the music passing right through her, leaving her in a haze of addictive power that was like nothing else she had ever experienced. Jenna played another song, and then another. The colors, lights and beating bass …
Then all of the flashing lights in the arena suddenly darkened and the music stopped. Nicole snapped out of her hallucination and, for a moment, was disoriented and unable to rejoin a world out of focus. A spotlight appeared center stage, and she saw Jenna seated quietly at the piano, starting a beautiful acoustic ballad from her latest album.
Nicole looked at her phone and saw it was past 10 p.m. already. Ninety minutes had passed in a flash. What had she been thinking?
The show was going to end soon!
Nicole looked over at Amy, who had tears in her eyes at Jenna’s bittersweet ballad of love and loss that seemed somehow to speak to her own experience, as if the singer had known every detail.
The piano ballad ended, and Jenna left the stage to rapturous applause.
She has to come back
, willed Nicole.
Surely she must come back
.
I need more time.
The crowd kept up the thunderous applause, begging Jenna to come out for an encore. Louder and louder. Nicole looked over, and although Amy looked tired, she was still smiling and clapping with the audience, who was now chanting Jenna’s name over and over like they were casting some spell that would make her return.
Of course there would be an encore, but Nicole now realized she had wasted away most of the show in some other dimension. Back in this world, with maybe one or two songs left, she was running out of time. As expected, the bass beats started up again, and Jenna re-appeared on stage. The entire crowd was back on its feet again. It had to be now or never. But Nicole still had to figure out whom she should choose.
Jenna began to sing again and raised her hands above her head, clapping. The audience repeated her action, and the whole arena seemed suddenly to be waving in unison. Then Jenna moved to those closest by her in front of the stage and jumped lightly on her feet. Then, as the arms below stopped clapping and prepared to support her for her trademark stage dive, it occurred to Nicole.
Of course, the mosh pit.
As Nicole clapped to the beat, she stood on tiptoe to get a better view of those who were standing in the section directly in front of the stage just at the moment Jenna leapt. The fans underneath supported her effortlessly. Security guards primed at the railings looked on to direct any over-enthusiastic fans away from the pop star, or to pull out anyone caught in the crush. Nicole knew from her own experience that anyone down there in the mosh pit was prepared to dance nonstop the entire show.
Those in the standing section at the front of the stage were the most energetic and youthful people. They had to be in order to dance, jump, sing and withstand the crushing force of the crowd moving to the rhythm of the music. Of all those gathered in the Patriot Center, those in the mosh pit were, in pigeon terms, the “healthy flock.”
Perfect.
They were Nicole’s chosen ones.
Nicole felt the beat flowing in her body and was then gripped by the sure knowledge that now was the right time. She stopped dancing and remained rooted in one spot.
She focused on those fans dancing at the front of the arena as the wave of arms carried Jenna Kidd back to the head of the crowd and then delivered her to the roadies, who helped her back onstage. As the music continued, up and down the fans went, energy bouncing through their limbs in time to the heartbeat of the music.
Nicole remembered Amy’s words — how exhausting it was being Amy Madigan. She recalled the goofiness and the wild hand gestures, the whooping and the glory of Amy’s happiness and how much energy that took to sustain.
Then she knew what she was going to do.
She would save Amy to the beat of this music.
In her mind’s eye, Nicole saw an old-fashioned light bulb shaped like a heart. The filament inside was burnt, and the glass was as worn and beaten as Amy had seemed in the car when she’d told Nicole about her illness. With every beat of the drum came a quickening pulse, and slowly, with each beat, the light bulb in Nicole’s mind began to pulse, too. At first it sparked small and red, deep down in the filament wire. Each person jumping up and down in time seemed to be powering up the bulb. They were — each one of them — reviving Amy.
One, two, three,
four …
Nicole counted the beats to herself and felt them directly lighting up Amy’s light bulb.
With every beat bounced, the stronger the light became. Each one of the hundred strong fans down in front of the stage was, in their own way, saving Amy. Nicole was in control.
It was kinetic energy, bringing life back to her best friend.
In Nicole’s mind, Amy’s heart-shaped light bulb began to beam stronger, and as the rousing chorus of the song rang out across the Center and Jenna Kidd held her long note, the light bulb shone without faltering.
It was like the moment when a lighthouse searchlight is revolving and you get the full glare of the beam, so strong and so clear. But this light didn’t turn away again.
This was Amy’s light.
It was back on, full and blinding in its radiant intensity.
The song reached its climax, and the crowd erupted with furious applause and the glimmer of a thousand smartphone cameras twinkling like mini-stars, capturing the moment forever.
“She’s amazing!” Amy cried.
Nicole nodded and beamed.
She couldn’t tell whether it was the exuberance of the moment and the uplifting feeling of the music or whether her Balancing had worked, but Amy was now happily jumping up and down, applauding.
Nicole let Jenna Kidd’s words drift over her as she craned her neck to get a better view of those people directly in front of the stage. She scanned the entire section — up and down, left and right, searching and searching. What she saw made her breathe a sigh of relief. No one had been pulled out ill, and everybody was still standing.
Nicole relaxed as she sat back down, and she squeezed Amy’s arm with genuine excitement. Now maybe life would return to normal for Nicole and Amy. Just two normal teens.
Four rows behind Nicole were two people who had other ideas, however. They were wearing T-shirts newly purchased from eBay. They looked nondescript and just like everyone else. They also had never heard of Jenna Kidd until tonight.
They were here on government business. Tasked to monitor the pretty brunette girl in the hot pink T-shirt under orders from the FBI unit they had just graduated. Give a detailed surveillance report on any and all suspicious activity. They knew nothing about Balancing — all they had been told was that Nicole was dangerous. But to the young FBI agents, she looked just like every other teenage girl in the crowd. Throughout the entire show, the only odd thing the agents had seen was a moment during the last song when Nicole had stopped dancing and just stared at the crowd below for about a minute.
Was that it?