My afternoon didn’t hold any real surprises. I liked my History teacher right away; he was an older man with a wickedly dry wit. I knew his class would be a challenge, but at least I wasn’t going to be bored.
Math was a different story. Anything with numbers was an anathema to me. The teacher didn’t seem too bad; she was young and energetic, and assured me with a snap of her fingers that I would “catch up just like that!” I didn’t share her optimism, but I smiled and nodded anyway.
I recognized some faces from my morning classes in History and Math, and some of them even nodded to me vaguely. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see that Nell was in my History class. This time she was on her own, with none of the girls from Science or lunch surrounding her. She sat aloof, her eyes forward, and she didn’t even blink when I walked past her to my seat. I made a concerted effort not to pick up any thoughts or feelings from her direction.
I lingered for a few extra minutes at my locker, pretending that I was searching for a book. I didn’t even admit to myself that I was hoping to see Michael again. But when someone tapped me on the shoulder, my heart did give a little leap, and I turned expectantly.
But it was not Michael. My Chemistry teacher, Ms. Lacusta, stood behind me, her eyes bright and somehow knowing.
“Hello, Ms. Vaughn. And how was your first day in King?”
I frowned. I couldn’t hear anything coming from the teacher’s mind, just some odd kind of static. It made me dizzy, as though I had expected solid ground and instead had stepped into emptiness.
“Uh—good. Thanks. It was good.”
Ms. Lacusta smiled, and a chill snaked down my backbone.
“I’m glad. I think King will prove to be very interesting to you. If you need anything—any help in adjusting—please, don’t hesitate to come and see me.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I just nodded and stuttered my thanks. After a moment, Ms. Lacusta turned and glided away.
That was weird, I thought as I slammed my locker door and headed toward the parking lot. I’d heard of involved teachers, but there was just something a little off about that woman. I shivered even as the mid-afternoon sun beat down on me.
My mother had parked near the front of the student lot. As I walked toward her, squinting in the glare of the sun, I picked up a loud thought at the same time that I heard my name.
“Hey, Tasmyn!” A light blue older model car slid up alongside me. It was a convertible and the top was down. Michael smiled up at me from the driver’s seat.
“Hi,” I answered. From across the parking lot, I could feel my mother’s shock and trepidation and from the car, I could feel Michael’s warm interest. It was like being pulled in opposite directions.
“Did you have a good afternoon?” Michael’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but I could just imagine the kindness there.
“Um, yes, I did. How about you?”
He shrugged. “Not bad. So, your mom’s here?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Yeah, she’s over there.” I waved vaguely in her direction and struggled to save myself from total humiliation. “She doesn’t usually drive me to school, but since it was my first day here—and I didn’t know how long it was going to take—”
“Hey, it’s cool! My mom or dad drove me to school for years. We live too far outside of King for me to walk. And then my sister drove me once she got her license.”
“But now you’ve got your sweet car.” I touched the door. “It’s—is it an antique?”
Michael slapped a hand to his heart and feigned a look of horror. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what kind of car this is.”
I felt the flush returning to my cheeks. “I’m not much of a car expert.”
“Well, let me educate you. This, my dear, is a 1965 Mustang, the best car that ever rolled off a line in Detroit or anywhere else.”
“It’s… nice.” I knew I sounded lame, but I couldn’t think of anything else. The pressure of knowing my mom was watching this whole scene unfold was making me panic.
“Nice.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Let me take you for a ride soon, and I bet I can get more than ‘nice’ out of you.”
“Sorry.” I glanced over my shoulder at my mother, who was sitting with her hands folded over the steering wheel. Michael followed my gaze.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m holding you up, aren’t I?”
I shrugged. “Just—it’s my first day here, and she probably wants to know how everything went.”
Michael’s voice was very low when he answered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Is she—will she be mad?” And beneath the words, I could hear his churning thoughts and realized that he had misunderstood completely.
“No! I mean, she’s not that way. It’s just—” This was going to be mortifying, but it was better than Michael believing that my mom was going beat me when we got home. “I don’t usually talk to boys—they don’t talk to me—and she’s probably wondering what’s going on. I’m an only child. My parents can be a little overprotective.”
“You don’t talk to boys?” Now Michael was totally confused, but this time, what he was thinking made my heart flutter. A girl like her? Thought guys would be all over her. Can’t believe she doesn’t have someone already…
“I guess I tend to be a little shy.” That was an understatement. “Listen, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but I really do need to go. Can I—I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Michael leaned back in his seat and grinned again. “See you then.”
I stepped back from his car as he pulled away, but I didn’t move toward my mom until he had turned out of the parking lot.
With a deep breath, I opened the car door. “Hi!” I wondered fleetingly if I could distract her with talk about the rest of my day. “Sorry about that. I had a really good first day, though—”
“So it would seem.” My mom’s voice was dry, and I felt the conflict of emotions rolling from her. She was both pleased and disturbed that I was talking to a boy. She was excited and frightened for me at the same time. I didn’t know which to address first, and neither did she. We were both quiet as she turned onto the street.
“It’s nothing big, Mom,” I said at last, affecting the best careless tone I could manage. “He was just being nice.”
“Are you cheating?” Her tone was only mildly accusing. I knew she was talking about the agreement we had made years ago, when I was very small: no listening in on parental minds. It was a hard agreement to keep: the two people in the world I was closest to were also the easiest for me to hear. But I had learned early on that I didn’t really want to know what my parents were thinking, and so I tried to block them pretty consistently.
“No, I didn’t need to listen to your mind,” I answered. “I could feel you from all the way over there. Plus, I know you. You’re already freaking, trying to figure out how to deal with this.”
“I’m not freaking!” Her voice rose an octave. “You’ve got to understand, this is new territory for your dad and me. I know most girls your age have boyfriends, and it’s completely fine. But you—Tas, you know you’re different. You’re special. We have to take special care…”
“I get that!” My voice rose too, despite my efforts to keep it even. “I understand. But I also know I need to have a life. And a life might include friends, and yes, even boyfriends. I don’t even really know Michael yet. Maybe he’s just a nice person who will turn out to be a good friend. But I won’t find out if I don’t—if you won’t trust me a little, give me a little space.”
“Michael?” She was a bit calmer. “That’s his name? How old is he?”
“Yes, Michael Sawyer. And he’s a senior.”
“You got all that from a five minute conversation at his car?” She already suspected the answer.
“No. I met him earlier in the day, and I ate lunch with him—and his friends.”
My mother’s concern ratcheted up a couple of levels. “That sounds like someone interested
in more than just being nice.”
I blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “I told you, I don’t know yet. There was a girl giving me a hard time, and he kind of stood up for me. And then he asked if I wanted to sit with him at lunch, so I did. I liked not having to sit by myself for a change.”
My mom winced. “Tasmyn, we don’t make these rules because we want you to be lonely. We make them to protect you.” We pulled into our driveway, and she carefully put the car into park, engaged the brake and fiddled with the keys. “We only have your interest at heart, you know that. It’s so hard to know whom we can trust. Daddy and I realize how difficult this is for you.”
“I don’t think you really do,” I shot back. “I’ve been in seven schools in twelve years, and I’ve never had any friends. You always tell me how special I am, how I have to be careful. But I can’t live the rest of my life worrying about being taken advantage of. I just can’t. I need to be able to get to know people, to make some real friends. You and Daddy have each other. I have no one.”
I jumped out of the car, grabbing my backpack and slamming the door. Tears were threatening, and I wasn’t going to break down out here. I held myself stiff as my mother unlocked the front door, and I followed her inside, going directly to my room.
I threw my bags on the bed and then dropped down next to them, curling up with my head buried in the pillow. I had never been a dramatic teenager. My parents had gotten off pretty lightly when it came to adolescent angst. But right now, it felt as though all the injustices of the world were crashing down on me. Any other normal girl could talk to a boy in front of her mother without said parent envisioning doom. Why did I feel so guilty?
I sulked in my room until my mother called me for dinner. At the table, the tension was painfully thick. My father broke the awkward silence about half way through the meal.
“Your mother tells me you met someone today,” he began. “That must have been nice.”
“It was a change, anyway,” I muttered.
“Well, you’re a beautiful young lady. I’m only surprised this hasn’t happened before now.” I knew what this was. This was the praise that was supposed to make me feel good about myself before they lowered the boom of whatever came next.
“But…?” I prompted.
“But what?” My father was all innocence. “I was just commenting.”
“Really?” I broke off a piece of meatloaf with my fork and toyed with it. “So you’d be okay with Michael driving me home from school?”
My mother nearly choked on her green beans, and my father put down his knife with a deliberate clunk. They both gawked at me as though I’d grown a second head.
“Driving you home? When?” My mother found her voice first.
“I don’t know. He just mentioned that he could. Or would. Some time.” I was hedging.
“Why would he do that?” my dad demanded.
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m—what did you say? A beautiful young lady?” I bit back a smug smile.
For a few minutes, the silence returned. My father took a bite of his roll, chewing slowly. I didn’t cheat and listen to him, but I couldn’t block his swirl of annoyance, worry and fear.
When he did speak, his voice was serious.
“Tasmyn, we have been given the job of protecting you, all your life. Not only because of your—your gift, but just because you are our child. No matter what the circumstance, we would be very cautious about entrusting your safety to someone we don’t really know.”
“I understand that. But I also know that I’m seventeen years old, and I’ve never given you reason to believe that I’m anything less than trustworthy. We’re talking a drive from the school to here, less than ten minutes. I’d probably be safer that way than walking home, which was what I’d been planning to do, now that I know the way.”
Neither of them answered me immediately. I knew they were struggling, and in some ways, I felt guilty for being the cause of their distress. I inadvertently picked up a few phrases floating in their heads… she’s still so young, she doesn’t know… how do we know if this boy can be trusted… But still I stayed stubbornly quiet, my eyes glued to the table.
Finally, my mother spoke. “So, you really think it’s safe for you to ride to school with someone you’ve known—what, a day? Not even?”
I shrugged. “It’s not like he’s asked me out on a date. He just offered me a ride. I’d like to know I could say yes without you guys freaking out or getting mad.”
My father scowled at me. “I don’t think either of us has freaked out. We’ve expressed our reservations to you. If I’m going to be honest, Tasmyn, I’ll admit that I’d be more comfortable with you not getting involved with this boy. You might think it’ll all work out, but it’s going to be hard for you to be his friend without giving away your—what you can do.”
“I can do it. I’ve lived with this my whole life. I think I can handle it.”
My mother sighed heavily, and my father shook his head. “Tas, obviously your mom and I have serious reservations about this whole idea. But we do trust you. If you want to ride home with this—what’s his name? Mike?”
“Michael,” I answered, almost giddy that they were going to give in.
“Okay, Michael. If you feel that it’s safe for you to ride home with him, I guess it’s all right. But you need to take things really slow, understand? Be very, very careful.”
“I will. I promise.” They both looked so doubtful that I added, “I can do this. I know I can.”
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