The Elemental Warriors: Chapter 3

## Chapter 3- Sage

Okay…
should I start with the text group?

*<Coral just did that.>*

Well… I have to talk about at
least something.  You’re already typing.

(awkward silence while we try to
think of something to talk about)

*<Well, you could tell them about that*
thing at Target.>

Oh yes, that.  That was confusing for like a month.  Okay then, let’s go.

My mom and I were back-to-school
shopping at Target the weekend before school started, after the schedule
fiasco.  My mom pushed the red cart and I
followed.  As we turned a corner, my mom
shouted, “Nikki!  Long time no see!”  I mentally groaned.  One of my mom’s teacher friends had appeared,
but that wasn’t what bothered me.

The
thing that really bothered me was her son that she pulled along with her.  Paul was my age, and we had known each other
since we were toddlers.

Now, whenever we met, the air
felt way too awkward.  I did what I had
to do then, and said, “I’ll go get the tape.”
I had no idea what we were going to do with tape in middle school, but
it was on the supply list.  Middle school
was going to be weird.

Screw Paul, he followed me.  “I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he
said as he walked.  Wait, what?!  I mean, we were close (or had been five years
ago at least), but not that close.  I
squeezed my eyes shut and braced for impact.
Here’s what he said:

“It’s weird that I’m telling you
this, but I feel like I should.  I’m in
pretty much the exact same classes as four of my friends, and I have no idea
why.”

At first I thought: *Odin?*
This is Heimdall.  Yeah, I’m
blowing this horn because FRICKIN’ RAGNAROK IS HERE.  *(And yeah, I’ve read Norse myths.  Call me a nerd.)  And then I thought:* Oh wait, hold on.  HE DIDN’T SAY
ANYTHING ABOUT HIS STUPID FEELINGS!
HALLELUJIAH!

  So I said, “That’s pretty much
the same with me.”  Paul replied, “And
then there are the conspiracy theories that don’t help…”

I said “Ember” as soon as Paul said
“Allen”, and then for some reason I couldn’t stop giggling.  Once I settled down (it took a while), we
stood awkwardly for a couple minutes, and then Paul’s eyes grew wide.  He spit out a word I hoped his mom was not
around to hear, and then he ran to one end of the aisle, stuck his head out,
and looked around.

“What’s going on?”  I asked.
Paul tried to explain.  “Don’t ask
how I know-because even I don’t know how I know- but there’s a guy in the store
and he’s looking for us.”

“Looking for us?!” I
yelped.  “Is it my mom?”

“Well, I can sort of hear him,
and his voice is definitely male,” Paul explained.  That couldn’t be good.  “Do you know where he is?” I asked.  He pressed his hands to his temples, like he
was trying to get fresh-squeezed brain juice out of it.  “I’m trying to- wait.  Aisle nine.”

“Where are we??” I asked, always
asking questions.  I peeked out of the
aisle, looking at the number. “OMG, we’re in aisle twelve?!”  Paul, just as terrified as me, suggested,
“Should we-“

“We’re in a Target.  We can’t hide.”

“Point taken.” Paul grabbed a
bunch of glass paint containers and started walking out of the aisle.  “Wait,” I said. “I need protection, too.”

Just as I said that, a gaping
hole of dirt formed in front of me, swallowing way too much things (including
all the remaining glass paint containers).
It spit up a gigantic earthen shield and closed.  Weighing the nonexistent paint containers
against the shield, I picked it up.  It
was surprisingly light, even though it was huge and that it was made of what
looked like really packed-together dirt.

Paul looked behind him, saying,
“Where did you get that?” when he noticed my shield. “I don’t know,” I
admitted.  “It just came out of the
ground.”  And on we marched.

When we reached aisle nine in a
matter of seconds, Paul said, “Okay, so the guy’s still in there.  I want us to turn the corner on the count of
three.  One…

“Two…

“Three.”  We turned the corner.  Standing in front of us, frowning at us, was
a garden gnome.

Paul, a little overexcited,
threw a paint thingie right over the gnome’s head.

The garden gnome started to
talk, somehow.  He said, “Beware, for in
four days you will underestimate your power.
Beware, for soon you will learn what is going on.  Beware, for as soon as you realize something
is different, every secret will unravel.
Beware, for soon the monsters will come for you.”

Then the garden gnome became
stationary, rocking side to side on his ceramic feet, until gravity could pull
both down, smiling with happy, chubby cheeks.
My dirt shield dissolved.

Not knowing what else to say, I
shouted, “Someone left a garden gnome in aisle nine!” turned around, and ran.