They met in the quad at Portola that night. The purpled overcast sky above glowed down on them as they faced each other on the Plane. Across the wide space, lunch benches were scattered around the quad, with an occasional tree peppered about the sections of lawn. A gentle breeze blew across the Plane, mimicking the same one that blew across the waking world at that very moment.
Jesse stared into her eyes, trying to catch her flinching. If he could get her to look away from him, he would know she was scared and done for with just a little bit of aggressive force. But he couldn’t catch her gaze.
Instead, Dali’s eyes were racing to every part of Jesse’s body. She even had make-up on, here on the Plane. Perhaps this was her warpaint. Her mascara was thick and her eye shadow was a bright purple -- or was it luminescent? He noticed her stare at an arm, a foot, or his body for a second or so at a time before moving on to the next body part. She kept still the entire time.
“Why you keep checking me out? You gonna fight me or fuck me, Puta? Like you did all of those dudes. Even for you, I’m enough man.” If he could get her emotional, he could be in control. This fight would be over before it started.
Dali lifted her eyes to meet Jesse’s stare.
Got her.
But Dali’s face was emotionless.
Shit.
Her eyes didn’t blink even after she started to rush forward with a speed Jesse wasn’t prepared for, despite staring at her and waiting for this very moment.
Jesse didn’t have time to move up to meet her or take the offensive, as was his original plan. He realized he needed to adjust his footing as quickly as he could and be prepared to dodge or block and then hopefully counterattack as quickly as possible.
Dali moved in fast, straight toward him. He couldn’t tell where her strike would come from. Before he knew it she was in perfect striking distance. Jesse instinctively threw a jab to her nose in hopes of stunning her, but right when he thought he had connected and was gearing his stance for a follow-up punch, Dali’s face wasn’t there anymore.
By the time he realized to which of his sides she had pivoted -- or just appeared -- Jesse had expected to be hit already. The delay caused him to recoil for a split second, expecting a sudden strike to anywhere on his body, especially now that he remembered how surprisingly strong she had been during their last fight in Judge Thompson’s subconscious.
Still, there was nothing. He turned around to find Dali in a striking stance with an arm cocked back and ready to launch, but her head was sunk a little lower than it should have been, as if she was deep in thought. Now was as good a chance as any to flatten her.
Facing Dalisay, Jesse placed his feet and stepped forward, determined to ram his fist right through her face. As he began to throw his punch forward, he noticed that Dalisay was looking right at him, but seemed almost frozen in place, her guard barely up.
Then as he really put muscle into his punch he felt his eyes twitch. When he stopped blinking he was somewhere else. Masked police in riot gear rushed out of trucks and vans. There were crowds of loud and anxious people who cheered the police on down a large street. In the distance above people’s heads waved handmade signs, banners, umbrellas, and bobbing poles. “I thought we had an agreement,” a smooth voice said from nowhere.
The silhouetted crowds and the black-uniformed police swept together into a giant shadow. There were faces, clothes, limbs, claws, eyes, hair, fur, weapons, scales, and more reflected off shifting prisms within and outside the shadow as it swirled, recoiled, clouded, shaped, seeped, and creeped around Jesse.
A gunshot rang out and empty bottles clanged on the ground somewhere and echoed off distant walls. The sound resonated after the vision Jesse saw disappeared as abruptly as it came. He thought he heard the clanging still somewhere behind him, on the Plane. But they echoed in his mind just as much as he thought he heard them echo behind him.
When he came to he was back in Portola’s quad. His arm was lowered and Dali’s body was more relaxed, non-threatening. But her eyes were open with wonder -- and fear.
“The fuck was that?” Jesse gasped.
“What did you see?” Dalisay asked.
Jesse snapped out of his confusion. “Whadda ya mean? How do you know I saw something?”
Dali paused, and her eyes seemed to lose focus. “I saw something, too. I had seen it before.”
“Yeh,” Jesse agreed. “This feels like that déjà vu shit.”
Dalisay nodded. “It did. It still kind of does.” They stared at each other. “Well?”
“Pff. You go first.”
She paused. “I dreamt it a while ago. I think… I think I’ve been dreaming it. I don’t remember when I had the dreams after the first one, but it feels like I’ve dreamt it and seen it over and over. Maybe in pieces.”
“What, puta?”
She scowled and for a split second Jesse thought her purple eyeshadow got brighter. “People. In the streets. They’re angry and yelling. Protesting something.”
Jesse’s stomach felt like it had been sucked out of him: he was the helpless kid strapped into a roller coaster seat and plummeting down a sudden drop. He gulped for air and couldn’t feel it in his lungs. Finally, he mustered out a word. “Police.”
“Yeah,” Dali confirmed with a slow nod. “Riot police.”
“But who are they going for? They never attack the crowds.”
“It doesn’t make sense. The crowd is armed. They have guns. They’re so angry.”
“But it’s like the police are there to help them.”
“Right. You didn’t see any clues about who the police are there for?”
Jesse shook his head. “Nah. Every time, they all vanish. Because the--”
“The shadows.” They both said in unison. Looking at each other, Jesse tried to decide if this turn of events with Dalisay Morcilla was comforting or worrisome. It was both, he decided.
“I need to go,” Dali said as she walked away and sat on the grass.
“What? Where? You’re going back?”
She had just closed her eyes to concentrate and opened them back up again. “You know what this means, right?”
Jesse raised his hands and shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know. We’re fucking ‘chosen ones’?” Jesse said sarcastically with air quotes and an annoyed face.
“Yes. That’s exactly what it means. But not by fate. By our masters.”
Dali stared at Jesse, who just had a blank look on his face.
“Why didn’t you punch me, Jesse? You really wanted to, didn’t you?”
“Uh. Huh. Yeah, I did. But… it was like… I don’t know. It suddenly felt wrong. Like I was about to hit a dog or some shit. And then I was just…”
“Distracted?”
“Yeh.”
“We’ve been set up, Jesse. Yusef Abdel and Sharonda Williams are working together.”
“Who?”
Dalisay shook her head slowly and frowned. “How did an idiot like you end up being trained to be a Reader?”
“Psh. You think I can’t read good?” Jesse said, straightening his posture and sticking out his chest.
Dali shook her head again. “I don’t know what Yusef -- and Sharonda -- must see in you.”
“There it is again. Who is that?”
“She trained me. Like I’m sure Yusef Abdel has been, er, trying to train you.”
“Huh. When did you start training?”
“You’re not asking the right questions. I have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because, Jesse. If we were both set up to react this way -- if we had these dreams planted into us -- then our mentors anticipated us fighting each other. They didn’t want us to. And these images, this vision that we both have... ” Dalisay propped her head up with her hand. “They have to mean something. And no offense, but, I don’t think I’m going to figure out what that means with you.”
“Wait, Pu-- I mean, wait, Dalisay,” Jesse’s eyes were half-opened, trying to process and concentrate on so much. “Why did you train to be a Reader?”
“Now you’re asking the right questions.”
“Y que?”
“Huh?”
“So what? Why?”
“Because. I have my own reasons.”
Jesse thought for a moment. “Everybody does. But why us?”
“Everybody wants something, and will give a little to get a lot. But it never looks like they’re getting a lot. It always looks like they’re not getting anything. I think I really see that and understand now. What Sharonda has been getting me ready for... I thought I was at war with everyone at school. But none of that matters. She’s been getting me ready for an actual war. Here.”
“At Portola? Or on the Plane?”
Dalisay shook her head again. “The war on the Plane has never stopped. You already started fighting in that war. No, I’m talking about the civil war that’s ready to erupt. In our country. I see it now. It’s already begun, Jesse.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I have no idea why anyone would want your help for anything,” Dalisay said with a sigh. “This thing with Maria, and Moises. We’re going to settle it. But not right now.”
“She’s mine. I’ve worked too hard for you to get in the way. Moises needs to get stomped. By me.”
“Ew! ‘She’s mine’? Are you kidding me? She’s not property. She doesn’t belong to you, or anyone for that matter. Look, we have bigger things to worry about now. I know you can’t see that, but if you talk to Yusef tomorrow and tell him what happened tonight with us, he’s going to need to explain some things to you. It sounds like things that he should have explained to you. Or maybe you’re too stupid and weren’t paying attention when he did.”
“Fuck you!”
Dalisay closed her eyes again. “Leave Moises alone. He won’t be a problem with Maria anymore. I think he’s finally seen her for what she is.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
A smirk curved Dali’s face while her eyes were still closed, her back up straight while sitting cross-legged on the grass. “You’re so stupid. You’ll see it, too. I hope. You think she’s this really bright thing, and it blinds you.” Dalisay quieted and was still. “And I was really looking forward to framing you for that locker room theft.” She legitimately sounded disappointed. A silent moment passed as she kept her eyes closed and her body turned into a flash of white light. Only a black mist was left behind, trailing off through campus and into the distance. The misty essence began to dissipate into the breeze of the Plane.
Jesse looked around and confirmed he was alone. “Damn. Guess she really had to go. Hijole, that was close. She would have kicked my ass.” He stared at the empty Portola campus, shards of putrisomn occasionally glinting in the purple light as they depicted alternating renditions of the campus in different hues of colored paint, student-made banners, plants, and trees that probably existed on the campus at different times. “Guess I’ll go fuck around in Racha’s head now.”
* * * * * *
Cradling his breakfast in his arms -- which consisted of a plastic tub of sealed dry cereal, a small milk carton, a juice box, a plastic tube of yogurt, a tiny green banana, and a cellophane-wrapped package of plastic spork, straw, and a stiff napkin -- Jesse juggled to get Mr. Abdel’s classroom door open and rushed inside just as his breakfast poured out of his arms and onto a nearby desk. “They ran out of fuc-- of damn trays again.”
“Good morning to you, too, Mubtadi.”
Jesse looked around and noticed he was the first and only student there. He scowled at Yusef. “Who’s Sharonda?”
Yusef leaned back in his black leather office chair but remained focused on inspecting Jesse. “I see you and Dalisay finally met each other.”
“You do know shit! Chinga tu madre!”
The doorknob turned noisily behind Jesse and was lazily pulled open. An Asian student walked in.
“Yes, that does sound like an excellent plan, Mr. Ramirez. I shall see you after school, yes. Have a good day. Good luck with breakfast. Ah, good morning, Mr. Li. What can I do for you on this glorious day?”
The student’s eyes glanced at Jesse as he passed him and then quickly darted away. He put space between himself and Jesse and walked to the front of the class to Yusef’s desk. “Uh, I just had a question. It’s about last night’s homework.”
Jesse began scooping up his breakfast into his arms again and left the class to first period Spanish. The weather had turned cold again, so he was getting himself ready to be disappointed in Maria’s attire. I hope it’s leggings at least.
He was the first one there, again. Señor Padilla had welcomed him in and sat at his desk working on his computer. As Jesse ate his meager breakfast he took out his phone. Let’s see what kind of mierda awaits me today.
A few news accounts were now a regular part of Jesse’s social media feed, and they were citing a recent report that was published about a growing number of deaths within the federal immigration camps that had been set up across the country to hold and process undocumented people, according to the new Tilson Plan that had been adopted, the SENTRII Act.
A video had been leaked, which Jesse watched, of secret footage from inside one of the camps. Detainees overfilled containment cells, huddled and sleeping on each other with a few silvery emergency blankets scattered about the crowds. Jesse wondered why they looked cold and so tired when they were inside and the lights were on. He read a little bit and learned that the footage was taken at night with air conditioning left blasting. But this is from January, Jesse thought. Why is the A/C on? Why would they…? Oh. The government wants them to freeze. Jesse imagined Lita in one of these camps, stuck grasping onto strangers and never knowing when it was daytime or nighttime. Always being tired, cold, confused.
People are probably getting sick, too, he thought. When he read more his suspicions were confirmed as the report stated that a growing number of detainees were not receiving proper food, sanitary supplies, showers, or medical treatment. Then Jesse realized that there weren’t any children in the video, in the cells with the adults.
A second video featured armed guards patrolling a chain-link fence. A tiny dirt yard on the other side of the fence was filled with children sitting down, dusty knee to dusty knee. A few kids, no older than Marcy for sure, were crying, calling for their mothers. One of the guards taunted them. “If you guys start over at the same time maybe we can make music out of this.” He waved the barrel of his gun toward them like a composer conducting music with his baton. The children howled.
“Jesse!”
He looked up from his phone at Señor Padilla who was alertly and annoyedly looking at Jesse from around his computer monitor.
“Lo siento. I’m sorry, Señor Ramirez. I tried calling you but you weren’t listening.”
Feeling tension in his face, Jesse released the pressure from his jaws, which were clenched tight. He realized his legs were tapping up and down ferociously, and they were exhausted. One of them was tapping against the desk in front him. “Oh, shi-- shoot. I’m sorry. Lo siento, lo siento, Señor Padilla.”
“Esta bien, Señor Ramirez,” Mr. Padilla said, more relaxed as he slowly took his eyes off Jesse and went back to work.
Jesse took a deep breath and finished reading the report, which stated that multiple events were planned across the country in coming days and weeks to protest the SENTRII Act, ICE, Tilson, and the President. A few detainee camps were being targeted for these protests, aside from most major U.S. cities. The report ended by stating that counter-protests were also being planned by supporters of the Tilson Plan.
The anxiety was coming back to Jesse, even as he was trying to control it. I have power now. I can fix this. I can fuck up that guard. I can… I can free those people. Right?
Then he checked his notifications. There was an add-request from Maria. The fuck? Jesse stared at his phone in disbelief. He checked her profile to make sure it was actually her and not someone pranking him. He opened up and zoomed a selfie of her from the summer, laying out in a white bikini at the beach, cleavage pouring out onto the sand.
“Did you get my request?” Maria asked, standing right behind him.
For what had to be a whole, eternal second, Jesse couldn’t find his stomach. It certainly didn’t feel like it was where it should be. He pondered looking on the ground for it.
“Wha-- uh. I-- you’re here early, no?” Jesse sputtered, dropping his phone on the table. Maria’s photo was still zoomed in. He quickly scraped it back up and tried to shove it in his pocket while turning off the screen, but being seated made it difficult and awkward. He couldn’t do either while sitting at his desk and ended up thrusting his hand into his pants quickly and repeatedly with no results.
“The bell rang.”
“Oh, yeh. Ha. Right.” Jesse emptily agreed while trying to focus on fitting his phone inside his pants pocket and also trying to figure out where his stomach had gone. And maybe his lungs were missing.
Other students trudged in and took their seats. “I’ll catch you later, I guess,” Maria said and went to her desk.
“Yeh. Good later. See ya, talk.” Jesse took a few breaths. He grabbed his breakfast trash and raised it up high in the air for Señor Padilla to see, who saw and nodded. Jesse took it out of the classroom to a trashcan in the hall and dumped it. He hunched over and tried to decide if he was going to throw up.
Okay. Pull yourself together, Jesse, he thought to himself. The warning bell chimed and Jesse took a few more deep breaths and focused with his eyes closed. He took out his phone and checked the notification again. He accepted the add from Maria Fonseca. I don’t know what’s happening right now. But this is good. Right? Right. Don’t fuck it up. He walked back to the classroom, returned to his seat, and did his best to focus on the lesson, or at least appear that way. Really, all he wanted to do was check his phone. But he had to play it cool and unimpressed even though everything in his body -- the parts he could still feel -- churned to move him toward Maria and to hear her voice, to smell her, to see her eyes up close and connect with his own. She would finally see into his heart and soul and feel for herself how deep and pure and different this feeling for her was than anything else he or she had ever felt before.
“Señor Ramirez?”
“Yeh?”
“Te puedes ir.”
“Huh?” Jesse looked around to an empty classroom, except for Señor Padilla standing at the podium in front. The classroom door was still slowly closing after the last student had left. “Ah, shi-- shoot. Class is over already?”
Mr. Padilla replied with a grinning nod and went back to his desk.
I guess I played it cool, then, Jesse assured himself. He made it through third period Honors English a bit more focused: he at least was paying attention when the bells rang this time. He was also trying to anticipate his conversation with Yusef later. It was really difficult though, as he could have sworn he saw from his peripheral vision that Maria looked toward him a few times, maybe for just a split second. Or was she looking at someone behind him? He dared not look at her to confirm.
Checking his phone again during lunch, Jesse caught up on the news. Raging forest fires in Australia and Brazil had finally subsided. A Chinese city was in a forced quarantine from a weird new flu while the government still struggled with the unrest in Hong Kong. Arrests had been made on leaders of a group of armed Americans who were gathering for a gun rights rally at the Virginia state capitol while also protesting the Democratic-led state government. The arrested individuals were attempting to incite violence and had gone so far as to plan the use of explosives at the event.
How normal is this? Jesse thought to himself. Pues... I’ve been gaining superpowers in a secret dream world. So… I guess I shouldn’t feel surprised. But still. What’s everyone else’s excuse? Jesse looked up and around him, watching boys trying to do kickflips on their skateboards, a group of girls running around the corner of a building, another group of students huddled around and laughing at something on one of their phones.
When Jesse got to Yusef’s classroom after school had ended, there were students talking with him. “Ah. My 2:45 appointment has arrived. Ma’ al-salamah. Go with peace, young ones. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mr. Abdel,” a few of them said as they picked up their backpacks and headed past Jesse and out the door.
“Make sure that door is locked, Mubtadi.”
“Yeh.” Jesse did and walked back to a desk near Yusef’s and sat down. “A’ight. Spill it.”
“Your entanglement with Dalisay was no accident. It was an inevitability.”
“Are you telling me that you knew about her the entire time, and what? You were planning on us fighting each other?”
“Ms. Williams and I found it in the best interest of everyone that you and Dalisay did not know about each other for as long as possible.”
“Who?”
“Sharonda Williams. Dalisay’s mentor.”
There was a pause. “So… that night in Judge Thompson’s head. You... you set that up? You knew she would kick my ass?”
Yusef nodded slowly. “Dalisay began her training before you did. It was likely that she would have the advantage, on top of the element of surprise. It was an exercise for you both.”
“Like I need my ass kicked more in my life?”
“On the Plane? Absolutely. Your abilities on the Plane are unfathomable for most people. You need to learn how to fight and how to lose. Learning to do that under controlled circumstances would be ideal. Instead of another situation like Carolina. Or worse.”
“What could be fucking worse than that monster?”
Yusef gave Jesse a slightly stern look.
“Sorry. You just got me heated, ‘Sef.”
“I understand how you must feel, Mubtadi. Betrayed, untrusted. But please try to understand that it was done with the best of intentions and you were always safe. Things are moving fast now. Supporters of the government’s plan to hunt down immigrants are more emboldened than ever. Plus, there are other developments unfolding that are beyond the control of anyone. An unseen clock is ticking, Mubtadi.” Yusef’s eyes grew wide as his eyebrows raised. His tone was the most serious Jesse had ever heard it.
“Whaddaya mean? Is it happening? Are we all gonna get strapped up and go all Call of Duty on each other?”
“No, hopefully not. If we can act swiftly and find the root of what is influencing this wave of aggressive paranoia and control from the government, and shut it down as quietly as possible, then we just might be able to turn the tide. Otherwise, Mubtadi, I fear the worst for our country. A portion of our people will feel backed into a corner, voiceless, powerless, and desperate. Meanwhile, the portion with the power will continue to take as much power and control as possible, especially if they feel supported by the President. It is a perfect storm for civil strife. And it will rip this country apart. We will never recover as--”
“A’ight. So, what’s next?”
Yusef straightened up. “We must follow the source we found in Judge Thompson’s subconscious. We have to infiltrate Erik Peters.”
“No mames!” Jesse exclaimed excitedly. “He’s in Texas, no? So you gotta finish training me to be a summoner.”
Nodding and taking a quick swig from his water canteen, Yusef gently cleared his throat. “And we will be working alongside Ms. Morcilla and Ms. Williams on this quest.”
“No mames!” Jesse grunted angrily.
“Not for the training. That will still be you and I, over the next week. The infiltration operation will need to happen by then. Whatever we find out from Erik Peters will be helpful for Sharonda’s operation.”
Jesse shrugged. “Yeh, whatever, ‘Sef. If you say so.”
He nodded again. “Until then, we cannot risk anyone catching on to you and Dalisay. You must avoid her in public when possible. You will need to check in directly with me on the Plane every single night. If we ever separate you will need to safely exit the Plane and do not return to sleep after doing so. It is imperative that you are either always under my protection or not asleep. Do you understand?”
“Yeh. I got it. Don’t be friends with Dali, which won’t be hard. And you’re my babysitter.”
“I encourage you to coordinate privately with Dali for training or school-related matters.”
Jesse looked at the time on his watch and got up. “Oh, Imma fuck her up, ‘Sef.”
Yusef shot Jesse a glaring look as though he could pierce him with lasers from his eyes.
Jesse stuck out his tongue between his teeth and laughed at Yusef on his way out the door.
Before heading home Jesse checked for more notifications from Maria, but there was nothing. He figured he really blew it earlier today. His mind wandered and he instead caught up on more news.
The New York International Auto Show made a headline with a photo of sightseers storming out of a convention hall in disgust. Their faces, clothes, and arms were splattered with black-brown goo that looked like crude oil. The headline read, “NY Auto Show Shut Down Over Eco-Terrorist Scare.” He went on to read about how an environmental protection group calling themselves “The Sunset Brigade” had infiltrated the event as paying participants and snuck in gallons of chocolate syrup. In a timed operation, they simultaneously doused headlining speakers, cars, show screens, models, and crowds, all the while decrying the continued use or “worship” of fossil fuels, warning of complete global environmental collapse. They made sure to use the viscous chocolate syrup to graffiti in large letters on the front wall of the main convention hall: “Our sunset is upon us.”
“Híjole chingao,” Jesse said to himself. “Who the fuck does something that crazy?”
He rounded the corner to the apartments, the same corner where he once tried to rob Yusef in what felt like a lifetime ago. He stopped in his tracks when a white and green ICE truck slowed at the stop sign, on its way out of the neighborhood. Jesse’s eyes locked a gaze through the ICE officer’s sunglasses as the agent scowled at Jesse through his driver side window. He waited for the officer to roll down his window and threaten him, like clockwork, but he drove through and left the neighborhood instead.
A second ICE truck came, and this time Jesse saw a set of familiar eyes through a window in the rear of the truck. It was Lita, whose face was wet with tears, and she looked terrified like death was imminent. When she saw Jesse her face stretched and scrunched and although he couldn’t hear her screams he felt them at the bottom of his gut. The truck drove away.
Fredo and Marcy were wailing as they ran to Jesse, on the corner. They ran into him, almost knocking him over. He then realized he was kneeling on the ground, and his knees were throbbing but he couldn’t feel the pain. His brother and his sister held onto him tighter than anything he had ever felt in his life, and they screamed into his body.