Chapter 18—Freaks Like Me
Overnight the atmosphere of the Cave became dour and bleak. Everyone was mourning Kirk. Even Wren was less than her bubbly, cheerful self at the news. Nobody wanted to talk unless it was to blurt out some remembrance about Kirk. “He really helped me with self-defense,” one boy had remarked. “Never was too busy to help me really get my punches right.”
Another girl claimed he always stopped to cheer her up if she was down. “Even if he’d just come back from a long trip, if he saw me sad, he’d do everything he could to brighten my day.”
The situation was awkward for Lydia. The subject of Kirk seemed to be all that others talked about. She was unfamiliar with him and could offer no comfort. The only thing she could say was that she’d met him. “He was nice.” That would be all that came out of her mouth, but what else could she say? That she’d met him only for a few minutes? However, her offering was enough to satisfy the few who arose from their miserable grief to talk with her about Kirk. They would smile, nod, and then walk away, dabbing their eyes or staring at the ground.
Lydia didn’t mind the change too much. Nobody brought up her outburst, so she relegated herself to the background, leaving everyone to their mourning. Lydia took the opportunity to wander around, watching various people in training. Some were participating in self-defense classes, like Jando had. Sometimes, their powers resulted in accidents. Donny had singed off half of someone’s hair and several people had been paralyzed by someone’s fingernail barbs shooting off in a panic. To pass the time in between homework, Lydia would take pictures of the various powers people displayed. Some, like Jando, were very willing to show off.
However, Lydia used the chance to search for an escape route. It proved to be a fruitless endeavor. There wasn’t a crack in the Cave that she could exploit. It didn’t help that Arthur’s room rested at the top of the Center. He overlooked the entire area from his crow’s nest. She took pictures of various places anyway, hoping that a solution would leap out at her when she studied the photos in her camera later on.
Nothing ever did.
Day in and day out, Lydia went back and forth to school, not talking to many people besides Wren. She couldn’t deny that she became lonely. Her company only consisted of the cold solid rock walls or the ever-present guards watching the only exit; neither of these offered any comfort. Her solitary existence ate away at her and she found herself longing for another companion to talk to. Everyone else was providing support and coming together for each other, but she couldn’t join in.
A couple of days after the initial announcement of Kirk’s demise, Lydia was strolling around, not sure what to do with herself. She’d scouted out the entire area, had dropped her letters off at the mail center, and was weary of photographing people. In one of the halls, she saw Aidan coming out of one of the self-defense classes. He stared at her when she came down the hall, the way he had before. He wasn’t sad and despondent like everyone else that filed out after him. Instead, she read curiosity on Aidan’s face. He nodded at her as she approached.
“Hi,” Lydia said.
“Hi,” Aidan said, crossing his arms. As close as she was, Lydia could see his distinctive broken nose, squashed and angled to one side. Lydia supposed it was the result of smashing into a wall during a flight or from falling face-first too many times. “I take it Wren already filled you in about me, my name, and basically my life story.”
That he wasn’t stricken by grief or asking her if she’d known Kirk prompted Lydia to stop and speak to him. “Not really. Only your name and your flying. I’m Lydia.”
“I know. You’re the new girl who freaked out in the cafeteria.” He smirked and dangled his arms at his sides.
“Guess someone does remember,” Lydia muttered. She should’ve expected someone would chide her about it.
“Only because you were actually right.” That shocked her. “We’re all trapped, stuck underground in this insufferable purgatory. What’s worse is that everyone is so happy-go-lucky and insistent on making us believe that we have to deal with our particular disability.
“Here’s a word of advice,” he said, pointing carelessly in her direction. “Don’t ever believe them. We are freaks and our problems are something we should be trying to get rid of, not embrace.” When he had dispensed his words of wisdom, he abruptly walked away.
Lydia stood there, replaying his words. A person who agreed with her. It’s a miracle. But why could only Aidan and she see the truth of the situation? They were the only ones who had rejected the force-fed notion that everyone should be learning to live with their problem instead of seeking to free themselves of it. Aidan was the only other fellow believer who saw that this community was composed entirely of freaks.
But why was that? Lydia was puzzled. Why was she in the minority? Surely there must have been others who once shared her conceptions of their plight. So why had they changed their minds? Did they think they were wrong? Was she possibly wrong?
A small body crashed into Lydia’s back. She spun around and saw a scrawny boy, no older than eight, with wide apologetic eyes. Large, ballooning eyes, like some hideous creature with gaping, nebulous pits for pupils. It was unsightly and startled Lydia at first. The child’s tongue hung outside of his mouth, stretched and securely attached to the wall. The boy yanked the pink mass off and retracted it into his mouth. He swallowed hard, taking a moment before speaking.
“I’m sorry!” he said, nervously picking at his fingers. Lydia was touched by his penitent manner, and it was enough to tear her gaze from his swollen eyes. “I didn’t mean to! I was trying to go around you!”
“It’s okay,” Lydia said, kneeling down to his level. “It’s okay. It was an accident. It happens.”
He blinked slowly. He was one of the stranger sights she’d come across, but the longer she looked at him, the more she thought his repulsive eyes to be endearing in some fashion. When he smiled, she noticed a missing tooth and his tongue trying to poke through.
“Okay,” he said, dropping his arms. He swung them back and forth. “I am sorry. I’m late for my doctor meeting.”
“Dr. Barrett?” Lydia asked. He nodded. “Do you know where she is?”
“Sort of,” he said. “Someone showed me when I came here.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I can find it on my own.” He didn’t look Lydia in the eye when he said that.
“How about I go with you anyway? I could use the company. I don’t really have anyone to talk to,” Lydia said. He positively beamed at that idea. “I’m Lydia.”
“I’m Ryan. Ryan Broder. But all the kids call me Frog because of my tongue.” He opened his mouth wide, pointing into it.
“Yes, I saw it,” Lydia said, moving him along. As they walked down the hall, she tried to avoid staring at those gargantuan orbs in favor of the way ahead. “How long have you been here?”
“A few weeks. That one guy came to visit me and brought me here.”
“You mean Arthur?”
Ryan nodded. “Yep, him. He came to visit me and my parents and brought me here. Are you new here?”
“Yes, I am,” Lydia said.
“Are you here because of your arm?” He pointed at the cast.
Lydia lifted it and shook her head. “No, no. This was something else. I was trying to catch a bus when I got hurt.”
The little boy’s eyes widened. “Did you catch it?”
Lydia chuckled. “Oh, I definitely caught it. No, I’m here because I’m strong.” When Ryan tilted his head to one side, she elaborated further. “I have lots of strength. Like I could punch through a wall or lift heavy stuff.”
His eyes lit up. “Cool!” he said. “That would be an awesome thing to have! But check this out! It’s pretty awesome, too!” He leaned his head back and his tongue snapped to the ceiling. Ryan lifted himself off the ground and swayed back and forth in midair. He pumped his tiny body forward, back, and forward before releasing his tongu
e. The he flew through the air and his tongue slapped onto the roof again, holding his weight. He swung down the hallway like this, made a wide turn, and came back to Lydia. He landed gracelessly in front of her, holding his arms out as if he expected a standing ovation.
“Good job!” Lydia said, praising him.
“Thanks!” he said. He faced her and began walking backward in front of her. Lydia followed him. “Could you punch something or break a wall?” he asked.
“That might not be the best idea. What if I broke someone’s office wall?”
Ryan considered her reasoning and accepted it. “Maybe hit something later?”
“Sure,” Lydia said. They were nearing Barrett’s office. At least it looked like the right hallway to Lydia. “So how do you like it here so far?”
“I like it,” Ryan said. “It’s fun to see everyone’s powers. They’re like superheroes!”
“Yeah, they are,” Lydia agreed.
“And the Cave is huge! And the best part is that no one makes fun of me here.”
Lydia flinched. “What?”
“No one makes fun of me here,” Ryan repeated. “Nobody stares at me like they did at school, and no one calls me ‘Freak’ or ‘Big Eyes.’ I like ‘Frog’ a lot more.” His voice had dropped to a mutter.
She’d expected that someone with his appearance would be teased, maybe tortured, at the hands of his peers. Nevertheless, she was caught off guard by his candidness. The hurt in his words was gut-wrenching; so much so that she could sense her anger broiling, like when Mark teased her.
They arrived at Barrett’s door, but Lydia couldn’t let Ryan go in without consoling him first. She was compelled to put a smile back onto his face. To her, such a cloudy malaise didn’t suit his initial sunny mood. She placed a hand on his shoulder and kneeled down. “Listen, you’re not a freak. Not at all. You’re a person with a neat power. Alright?”
He wiped his nose on his arm and slowly grinned. “Alright.” He embraced her. “Thanks.”
Lydia wrapped her good arm around him gently. “You’re welcome. Now let’s see Dr. Barrett.” She detached herself and opened the door. Inside, a girl was seated, waiting.
Barrett emerged from the patient room, sending Donny off. Although his cast was over his nose, Lydia pulled Ryan safely away from any possible emissions from the other boy’s nose. Barrett strode over to Ryan and knelt down to his level. “Hi, Ryan. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to come see me.” Lydia wondered if Barrett had been as shocked when she’d seen his face as she had. Probably not. I’m sure she’s seen everything at this point.
“No way! I was just spending time with Lydia,” he said, swinging his arms.
Barrett stood up and faced her. “How’s the arm? Any pain?”
“No. Good so far.”
“Alright. Remember, come see me if anything changes.” She returned to Ryan and led him into the patient room. “Thanks,” she said and shut the door.
Lydia left the waiting room and walked aimlessly down the hall. She was still upset that anyone could be cruel enough to torment Ryan. Although it was to be expected with his strange eyes. But that didn’t make him a freak.
Her mind hopped back to the reassurance she’d given Ryan on that issue, and the irony wasn’t lost on her. She knew she couldn’t claim the opposite now, without being hypocritical or condemning people like Ryan.
She looked up. Lydia was several doors down from Barrett’s office. The sign on the door in front of her read, “Gary Reece, Counselor.” Lydia believed it was a coincidence that her wandering led to his office, but she chose to open the door anyway.
The room was dimmer than Barrett’s. There was a soft tone to the faded orange walls and the inviting sofa. Across from the entrance sat a bearded man, dressed in a navy-blue polo shirt, seated behind a desk as thick as a tree trunk. His rosy cheeks and comforting eyes made him seem like a sympathetic parent, ready to listen to one’s woes. He stood up, smoothed his straight hair, and greeted her as he walked around the desk. “Hello, Miss.”
“Hello,” Lydia said.
“Please, please, have a seat.” He gestured to the sofa and brought his chair around from behind his desk. Lydia slowly lowered herself onto the cushioned seat, a little uneasy. “I’m Gary. Gary Reece.”
“Lydia Penner.”
“Ah, yes. The new girl,” he said. He stroked his chin. “I need to warn you first that all sessions are recorded.” He indicated a security camera in the corner of the ceiling.
“For your protection?”
“Partly. It’s for your protection as well,” Gary said. “You see, I’m—”
“A BEP,” Lydia finished.
“Yes.”
Of course, she thought.
“My ability is that I feel people’s emotions.” When Lydia didn’t respond, he elaborated. “My body syncs with others’ emotions. Whatever someone else is feeling, it passes onto me, greatly amplified. If they’re elated, I’m on cloud nine. If they’re in the dumps, I’m downright depressed.”
“And if someone goes into a fit of rage?” Lydia asked.
He sighed. “I think you know the answer.” Lydia shifted around uncomfortably. “I’ve trained for years to control it and suppress any emotions that come up. However, I understand if you’d feel better talking to someone else. We have other counselors who aren’t BEPs. Some women, if you prefer, instead of a man. Or how about any of our chaplains? How about a pastor? A rabbi? Priest? Imam? Anyone?”
Lydia sized him up. He wasn’t particularly tall or looked strong. “No, it’s fine. Might as well talk to you.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said, leaning back.
“It’s not that. I just know I can take you if you go berserk,” Lydia said. “That, and you come recommended by Arthur. Like that really helps.”
“You don’t like Arthur?” Gary asked, tilting his head. He didn’t sound very surprised. He sounded more like he was adding another tally to some invisible list.
“Hah! That’s an understatement,” she said. She retold the story of how Arthur had ruined her life after her accident at Rooke Pharmaceuticals, placing extra emphasis on what she thought of him. During her story, Gary listened, only asking for clarification. True to his word, he stayed calm, even as Lydia grew more upset with each declaration of hate she carried for Arthur.
“The icing on the cake was when he lied about being able to cure me of this disease!” she finished.
The clock on the wall ticked almost inaudibly as Gary looked at her. He held his hands folded to his lips and clapped them together several times. “Is that how you view your ability?” he finally asked.
Lydia scoffed. “ ‘Ability—’ ” She started to answer, but Ryan’s face emerged into her thoughts, followed by memories of the twins and Janice. “I don’t know,” she said, dropping her head to stare at her palm, as if it held an answer. “There are others more messed up than me. I know that. But they see my whole problem as an ability. A gift, almost. How can they?”
He waited until she was finished thinking aloud before he answered. “Perhaps people realize that it’s something they cannot change. Take the sun. Is it possible to stop its rise and fall each day? No. People learn to accept the sun’s schedule and become used to it. Some may not like how short the day is, while others may feel it’s too long, but they learn to live with it anyway. There may be some who hate and despise nature’s actions, but what good does that do? So it comes down to a choice to either live with the sun, whether you like it or not, or spend your life trying to change the nature of it.”
Lydia understood the comparison he was alluding to, but allowed him to continue. “Some abilities can be cured and others can’t. Some may not want their abilities to be cured at all.”
“But why? Don’t they want to be normal? Can’t they see that we’re all, well, freaks?”
“First off, having such strength doesn’t make you a freak,” Gary said. “You’re different now, yes, but that doe
sn’t make you any less of a person. The same goes for everyone else here. Our core belief is that no matter what your condition, you’re still a human being.
“Sure, some love their ability, but there are many who would like some way to reverse the process. However, most of us are like this for life. Some things you can fix and some you can’t. Barring any unforeseen change, this is one of the latter, I’m afraid. There are three roads you can go down at this point: Wish nothing had ever happened and never move on; try to change your condition; or live with it and move on, trying to make the best of things.”
“I see,” Lydia said. The advice helped to pierce an opening in her mind. He was right. She’d continue putting her hopes in her cure, and she was going to plead her case to Rooke when she left the Cave. For now, all she could do was learn to utilize her strength. Maybe it would lead to a way out. “I still don’t like it,” she said.
Gary leaned back in his chair, watching Lydia for a moment. “I’m not saying you have to like it. View it as a curse, if you wish. It’ll make it harder than looking on the bright side, but it’s your choice. Some people here see their ability as a handicap, but it’s a handicap they work around and abide with. That’s the point I’m trying to reach. Whether you deem it ill or good, you have to learn to accept it. Hey, personally, I don’t like mine. Not a day goes by that it’s not a struggle to deal with, and one that I wish had never happened to me, for it’s more trouble than it’s worth. But I learned to tolerate it. Each day that I’m able to get through by living with it is a blessing, and I’ve even come to enjoy a few aspects of it. Like helping others through their problems. Or if I’m feeling down, all I need to do is to release my inhibitions around a happy person.” He chuckled.
“That is a picker-upper,” Lydia agreed, joining in with a laugh.
“It is!” Gary exclaimed. “Also, we can help you overcome any problem associated with your strength and help you adapt to the changes. You’re different, but you can live a normal life and we won’t abandon you.”
Someone knocked on the door. Gary cracked it open slightly, and whispered to the person outside. He shut it and returned to his seat. “Sorry,” he said. “Someone else needs to see me. I did have an appointment scheduled with them, so we’ll have to wrap this up for now. As for Arthur,” Gary said, “I know you’re upset with him, and that’s perfectly understandable. He means well, but some of his methods can rub people the wrong way.”
“You got that right,” Lydia said, picking her nails. Although her hatred of her strength may have died a little, her virile scorn of Arthur was running strong. “He apologized earlier. Probably trying to save face, so I don’t break it when my arm heals. However, he did help my parents earlier.”
“You see? He does mean well,” Gary said.
“He owes me that much after all he’s done,” Lydia pointed out. Her feelings toward Arthur were softening, but only a little.
“I apologize, but I have to see this appointment,” Gary said. They stood and shook hands. “We can continue this another time if you wish. Come by and schedule an appointment when you feel like it.”
“Alright,” Lydia said. She walked out the door and back down the hall, passing some boy on his way in. She plodded blindly in no particular direction, turning over Gary’s words in her mind.
Despite his insistence, she wasn’t willing to live her whole life with her current strength. She was as repulsed now by her buff arms as she’d been before, but she also knew she’d have to begrudgingly tolerate them until she could talk to Rooke.
However, Lydia had a new perspective on others’ views on their own abilities. All the BEPs were people. Gary had been right about that. She’d been severely upset when Mark had declared her to the whole school as a freak, and Lydia had mimicked his action down to the letter. No one here deserves that.
Eventually, Lydia’s feet took her to the game room. Inside, Jando was matching wits with another boy over chess, and Wren was digging into a sofa, looking for something, in front one of the various televisions. Lydia walked in and heard the evening news anchor talking about the SN91 disease and Rooke’s plan to stop it. “The spokeswoman for Rooke Pharmaceuticals estimates that a cure should be ready within the week. She assured us that they are working around the clock to help those who are suffering. ‘Mr. Rooke understands the victims’ plight all too well, having experienced a similar tragedy with his own father’s terrible illness. He has vowed to keep the people safe and prevent any further suffering of loved ones everywhere.’
“No group has yet been identified for the attack in Yemen, but blame is being heaped upon different factions from all sides. The only thing people are sure of is the similarity to the MD89 attacks that ravaged parts of the world not so long ago, leading many to believe that the same people who are responsible for that catastrophe are behind this threat. While nothing concrete has surfaced so far, the PMC Overwatch has offered their support to Yemen for distributing the expected cure and countering any future threats against the country. A spokesman for Overwatch cites their performance during Spain’s outbreak as suitable qualification for the task, and claims that Overwatch is, quote: ‘committed to bringing these vicious killers to justice.’ ”
“Hey,” Lydia said to Wren, dropping into a chair.
“Hey.” Wren sounded a little better. She gave a victorious cry as she found the remote under the sofa. “A-ha!” She sat down and changed the news. She flipped through the television channels, each one holding her attention for a short span before she moved on to the next. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Lydia paused and twiddled her thumbs. “Look, about my little episode a couple of days ago—”
“Forget it,” Wren said, waving her off. “Everybody gets upset. Some people act like you when they first come down here.”
“Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you guys and insulted everyone.”
“Yeah, it did hurt,” Wren said, her grin betraying her sincerity. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. Some were upset, but we all forgave you already. Like I said, it happens to some people at first. Yeah, we’re stuck down here,” she said, her face dropping for a second. “But it’s not all bad. We’ve got satellite! The best package too, with all the channels!” She excitedly waved her arms in the air, pointing at the television. “You can have a lot of fun here. Try it.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Lydia said, a grin crawling up her lips.
“Bam! Checkmate!” Jando declared. He fist pumped and he turned to the girls. “Either of you want to try and beat me?”
“Sure,” Lydia said, taking the losing boy’s seat.
“I’ll help by standing next to you and pestering you during each of your turns,” Wren said, teasingly putting her head on Jando’s shoulder.
“That sounds more like you’re helping her,” he said. “I’ll allow it if I get a kiss each turn, too.”
“Let’s just play,” Lydia said, setting up the pieces. She laughed as Wren moved her hands about an inch away from Jando’s head, all the while singing “I’m not touching you!” Perhaps Wren had a point. She may as well try to enjoy herself until she could find a way out.
Halfway Heroes Page 28
