Anomalous: Chapter One

­Chapter One: A Cumbersome Discussion of Mealworms

“My star, you shine -even more so when I see you in the darkness, skulls at your feet.” Ava Barclay to her daughter, after Astra was suspended for fighting

“Hear me out-“

“I heard you, it’s jus-“

“Don’t say it’s just-“

“Astra.” Professor Fields forced his voice to be hard, so hard maybe Astra would leave his office. Unfortunately, all that wound up happening was that Astra changed her pitch as well.

“Professor.” Equally as harsh. No, Fields thought to himself, not as harsh. Colder.

“I said no.” Professor Fields sighed, eyes getting ever more exhausted as he thought about having to repeat this conversation -for the fifth time. After his first refusal, Astra had ambushed him after class with some diabolically delicious scones. Still, he had to refuse -which led to her dropping in on his office hours with the promise of grading all undergraduate coursework on top of lab work. After that refusal, she’d somehow found out where his lab was and offered her notes on his latest experiment. Which, if Fields was honest with himself, was irritating solely for the fact that she caught an inconsistency in the data. Today, Astra had caught him in his office again. Honestly, Fields didn’t care for his office. Though he was assigned one of the larger offices in the wing, it was still filled to the brink with scientific journals he had yet to index, research paperwork that piled on top of his desk ever more, stacks of ungraded assignments, books he was still in the process of reading -not to mention the department chair made him keep at least two additional chairs in his office for students. Fields was a firm believer that should a student come to his office hours they shouldn’t need to stay longer than they were comfortable standing.

Still. Fields resented the fact that Astra made it so he had to avoid his office -if he wanted to also avoid this redundant conversation. A man shouldn’t be afraid to enter his own office.

Fields felt a scowl start to make its way onto his face -and promptly shut it down. Fields believed negotiating with scone-wielding graduate students was more successful when you treated them like wild animals -which is to say, with calm faces and soft tones. Still, he couldn’t keep all his irritation hidden as Astra went back to arguing.

“And I have acknowledged that – I have, I promise. However, I am uniquely compatible with your research. I’m simply concerned that you have overlooked my key qualifications.” As Astra spoke, a grin crept onto her face -and it was as if a light began to shine in her eyes. Fields found something unsettling in her grin and, once again, found himself resisting the urge to put his head in his hands.

“Astra, we have been over this -we’ve reviewed your coursework, your thesis project, your undergraduate research, your passion for biochemistry-“ his voice cracked and he had to pause, “None of which negated the fact that your general disposition is not compatible with my own -and I cannot, in good faith, allow you to be my research assistant.”

“Ask me why.” Astra’s grin was solid, unmoving. But Professor Fields hesitated.

She was different. Fields hadn’t noticed it until now. Her voice never regained its energy. During their last conversation, Astra could barely contain herself. Her voice was hitched the whole discussion -she was desperate to make her case. It was one of the many reasons he felt she wouldn’t be suitable for his team. Fields allowed himself a slight frown as he thought. She was more measured this time. Her demeanor cold instead of overly friendly. Both of which were better than her usual disposition -fearful and stuttering.

Huffing, Fields gave in, “What?”

“Ask me why I am uniquely suited to your work.” Still with that unsettling grin. Fields paused. Too much teeth, he decided, she’s smiling with too much teeth.

“Fine, Astra, but I will not be discussing this with you again.” Professor Fields paused, looking expectantly at Astra. A heartbeat later, he realized she was waiting for him. He gave in and deepened his frown, “Why are you uniquely suited to my research?”

“You see, Professor, I –“ Pausing, Astra leaned against the wooden door frame, running one hand over the wood, nails sparking ever so slightly, her eyes glittering, “-am not just a Barclay.”

Now, Fields focused his eyes. He had thought it was just her attitude that had changed. No. It was not that superficial. The way she held herself was different. There was a dark confidence. Fields took a breath. Then he saw the sparks again, and Fields stared, enraptured, as they slipped from her fingertips and singed the wood wherever she touched. Forcing his attention back to her, she spoke again.

“And I am currently the Barclay.” Fields could feel the sharpness in her voice, as if she was ready to end him at a moment’s notice.

Now, he wiped the mask from his face. He no longer needed to pretend. To play the considerate professor. A grin matching Astra’s grew.

Too much teeth.

“My, my, Ms. Barclay.” Standing and walking around to the front of his desk, Professor Fields leaned back on the hardwood and crossed his arms, “You really should’ve led with that -would’ve saved us both some time.”

Astra matched him, crossing her arms -not moving from the doorframe, “Tell me, Professor, does my general disposition match your needs now?”

They both grinned like mad men. And, for the first time, Professor Fields could see how Astra resembled the Starlight Crow.

---

Astra didn’t stop grinning until long after she left Professor Fields’ office. In fact, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face even as she climbed the stairs to her apartment and barreled through her front door. She even held herself back from shouting until she was on her bed, a pillow pressed to her face. She did it. Despite what Astra will tell others, she spent the better part of ten minutes flailing her arms and laughing as she celebrated. Towards the end, she took a deep breath and fell backwards onto her bed with an oompf. A smile still on her face she looked around her room, briefly glancing at the family portrait she kept on her dresser. Slowly, she propped herself up on her elbows, a wicked grin on her face.

“Ad astra per aspera, my sweet.” Astra could still feel the warmth in her mother’s voice, “You will go far, be strong.” Her mother’s words had given her strength and helped her craft the Astra who stood in front of Professor Fields. Right down to the smile.

Astra looked back to the family portrait, rolled out of bed, and grabbed it. Her mother had given it to her years ago -when Astra had moved into the freshman dorms at KWU. That was eight years ago now. And the photo itself was from when Astra was just a kid, maybe ten. It was one of the few photos that had everyone in it -both parents, all three kids, and Lilac. Even the frame was nostalgic, Astra’s father had made the wooden frame out of maskwood and had sealed it so the natural grey wood turned a shining silver. Astra ran her fingers over the photo, settling for a moment over the center -where a dark grey creature, Lilac, rested on a young Astra’s lap. Lilac was a construct, made in the likeness of a spider -only Lilac was two feet tall. Astra had often spelled Lilac to feel as soft as a plush, but even before she’d started spelling Lilac, the golem would cuddle with Astra. Her mother had once told her that Lilac was created to aid the current Barclay. Astra grinned at the thought of the clumsy spider she’d known as a kid helping her do anything but get into trouble.

Shifting her eyes, Astra took a sharp breath. Her mother looked refined as always, in a deep purple blouse and steel gray pencil skirt -her hair in a complicated braid that still confused Astra. Her father was less refined, while he was still dressed in a suit that complimented her mother, he had shaggy blonde hair that was perpetually untamed. Even the grin on her father’s face seemed somehow wilder than her mother’s. Astra had been in a dark gray dress that had poofed out at her waist and came back in just above her knees -Astra always thought it looked like a bellflower. And Astra’s younger brother was still cute back then, in a gray suit to match their father, which Astra couldn’t help but giggle at. Even a five year old Astor looked like he thought the world was below him. But her little sister? Astrid, Riddle, the light of her life. Astra loved her to pieces and even looking at her sister as a toddler -barely able to sit still long enough for the photographer to take a picture, filled her with warmth.

Thinking about her family reminded her -not exactly fondly, that what Astra had said to Fields was true. She wasn’t a Barclay, or rather, she wasn’t just an average person with the name Barclay. Astra’s mother had given up her maiden name -Barclay, just a few years after Astra was born. Her mother had said that a villain such as herself had a reputation -a reputation that didn’t exactly scream ‘PTA mom’. Once, when she was a teenager, Astra had asked her mother why it was just her -and not her siblings, who had the Barclay family name. At the time, Ava simply pulled her into a tight hug and said, ‘Because, my star, the name called to you. And who am I to deny the stars?’

I still have no idea what that means, Astra mused. Gingerly, she pulled the frame closer to her face, leaning into the cold glass and closing her eyes, “Thank you, Mom.”

Astra pulled away and lightly put the frame down, “I don’t know what’d I do without you.”

Astra felt the truth of her words deep within her bones. For so long, Astra was determined to be different, to let the world pass her by with a smile. But every time a potential advisor refused to support her research, Astra found herself chipping away at her smile. It was at the behest of her mother that Astra had locked her anxieties in a box. ‘Just for a day, my star,’ her mother cooed, ‘You are sweet, and the world has been sweet to you. But now you must fight for what you want.’ Thinking back to the conversation with Fields, Astra couldn’t help but shake at the thought of the confrontation. A meek Astra, an Astra who let herself fail -the everyday Astra, wouldn’t have been able to firmly use her powers. Had she failed -again, she knew that she would have had to go to the even more unsavory Professor Ukahalian just to try the same act. So, when Astra walked into Fields’ office earlier today, she tucked away a part of who she was -in a box, like her mother had taught her. And she grinned, ‘a little too much teeth, my star, goes further than a frown,’ just as her mother always had.

She was still grinning the next morning. But as she started to run further and further behind, the smile slid further and further off her face. Still, Astra took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. While not a great beauty, Astra loved that she was a perfect mix of her parents -her mother’s ochre skin and father’s dark blue eyes almost seemed to contrast each other. Astra’s dark hair, while straight, was often untamable. Her eyes were deep set, lips wide, and her nose small -but it upturned dramatically. Why do I always look like I’m from Whoville? Astra mused to herself as she stared at her own reflection, trying to flatten her hair until, eventually, she decided it was a futile endeavor and she was late. Besides, Astra wanted to have enough time to rub her research position in Bart’s face -which meant she should have left a few minutes ago.

When Astra walked through the lounge that morning she couldn’t help but smile. Every so often she’d remember to rein it in, but as her eyes met Bart’s she grinned. Bartholomew Ligersen was many things. Tall was not one of them.  So, when he tried to lean onto the table and prop his head up with his elbows, Astra was reminded of a elementary schooler at snack time. Bart was even wearing a superhero shirt –Holo Storm? Is he eight? Sitting next to him was a middle aged woman, stick thin, her blonde hair pulled back so fiercely the skin of Mariela’s face was taut. Unlike Bart, who was watching with a scowl as Astra approached, Mariela was flipping through a magazine -not quite slow enough to be reading it.

“Ask me how my Monday went,” Astra pulled Mariela’s magazine into her own hands and snapped it closed, “and try not to burn with jealousy when I tell you.

Mariela rolled her eyes as she stood and grabbed her bag, “Yes, yes. You can rub whatever success in our face –get up, Bart– on the way to lecture.”

On cue, Bart sighed and looked up at Astra and Mariela, “Ah, the banes of my existence have finally acknowledged my meager presence.”

“Oh just come on-“ Astra flipped her wrist, clk’d her tongue, and gestured toward the hallway with the magazine, “We’re running late.”

The natural sciences building was one of the few original buildings still on campus, it had been built over two hundred years before. The outside was well maintained -but the architecture screamed ‘Old World’. Dark brick, multi-story windows, the occasional gargoyle. Astra loved it. For as ancient as the brick building was, Astra was grateful when she had found out that the interior was renovated just two years before she started attending Vineria University. Whatever it looked like before, Astra was grateful for the updated vibe. The inside of Byrd Hall was lined with a warm off-white, windows for walls, and driftwood floors. Mariela had once described the old Byrd Hall as ‘science themed, but like bad science -if you know what I mean’ -after looking at some of the old pictures, with mismatched furniture that had been accumulated over the years, worn down wooden fixtures, and a smattering of statues depicting famous physicists from VU, Astra thought she did know what Mariela meant. Now, the administration had opted to put up prints of microscopic materials rather than going back to what Astra liked to refer to as ‘dark academia’. The same off-white trailed into their lecture room. Their specific PhD program only had six doctoral students, so they used a standard size class room for discussion days -but they had to go all the way to the fifth floor.

Stepping ahead of the other two, Astra slid her heels around and walked backward, just so she could give Mariela and Bart the news to their face, “I got Fields. He’s agreed to have me join his research team -and he’ll help me with my dissertation.”

A heartbeat later, both Mariela and Bart were silent. Looking to one another, then to Astra. Mariela took the initiative, a cautious smile on her face, “Listen, I really don’t think you should go to his office again -I mean, you-“ Whack. “Hey!”

Astra pulled her magazine wielding arm back from Mariela, “I mean it: I got Fields. I don’t need to ask him again.”

Mariela’s eyebrows shot up as she rubbed her arm where Astra had struck her, and Bart stopped walking all together.

“You’re a liar -and if you’re not a liar then Fields has gone insane.” Bart didn’t even have to suppress a smile -much to Astra’s irritation it was rather clear that Bart wasn’t joking. She held up the magazine to him, and flinched towards Bart.

“Say that to my face.”

“I said it to your face.”

Just as Astra was about to hit Bart for real, Mariela looped around Astra and steered her forwards and through a door, “Now, now, children, I believe it’s time to discuss-“ Mariela paused as she glanced to the board, “The biochemistry of Tenebrio Molitor?” Mariela’s eyebrows perched together so much so that Astra briefly wondered if they overlapped, “Why are we talking about mealworms?”

Astra’s smile slid off her face, “Bart, tell me you did not get that grant.”

As quick as her smile fell, Bart’s appeared, “Ahhhh, but –unlike you, I am actually competent when it comes to writing proposals.”

Astra took a deep breath, took a step into the classroom, and pointedly ignored Bart’s response. Despite everything, Astra knew Bart would still buy her a beer later to celebrate -or a pitcher if they could get to their favorite dive bar before happy hour ended. Still, it was going to be a grueling three hours discussing the idiocy that is Bart’s latest pet project. Astra could still hear Bart’s drunken proclamation from last week, ‘Mealworms are the f-t-u-u-r-e, Astra -the future!’. At the time, Astra had cared more about his misspelling of ‘future’ than his actual proposal. Sitting through -and participating in, Bart’s discussion about the proposed ability of mealworms to generate electricity used to power UV lights above the plants they would simultaneously fertilize wasn’t exactly tantalizing discourse to Astra. However, knowing that she was invited to Fields’ laboratory this afternoon, powered Astra. Whatever this day held it was bound to be everything she’d hoped for when she fell asleep last night.

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