by Lee Davidson
“She said, ‘Excuse me.’ I don’t count that. She’s hurting, Willow.”
“I know. I hate to see her hurting, too. Especially when she treats Fish badly.”
“I still think his scars prove that whatever she’s doing is working.”
“Whose scars?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
They both jump and spin their heads around.
“Whose scars?” I repeat.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Willow says.
“You lied! You know something about what’s happening to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” Willow fires back. “I really don’t know what’s happening.”
“So this is about my scars?”
“I’m sorry, kid, but I don’t have any answers for you.” Willow squeezes my arm and stands. “I promised Troy that I’d spend some time with him. I’ll see you guys later. Grant, try to stay out of trouble.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” I mumble and then yell, “Willow!” but she ignores me.
Liam looks apologetic and says, “I’d better go code.”
I want to ask him to stay in hopes that he could offer more information than Willow about my scars, but he’s so beaten down, I let him go.
“You guys eating?” I ask Clara and Rigby.
“I am.” Owen’s voice comes from behind me and he slaps my back.
Clara nods and Rigby says, “Me too.”
The four of us head to the back corner of Benson for food.
“Have you noticed how bizarrely Willow’s been acting?” I ask Owen after I squeeze a hot dog on my crowded tray.
Owen grabs a dog, too. “As a matter of fact, I did…”
“I haven’t noticed,” Clara’s voice says from behind me, cutting off Owen. She reaches through the space between Owen and me, grabs the ketchup bottle, and gives Owen a look that says he should shut up.
“What’s going on?” I try to keep my tone light.
Owen shrugs. “Nothing, man.”
Rigby rushes past us with his tray. “I’m gonna sit with Whitfield today. Catch you guys later.”
Before I can question Owen and Clara more, they’ve skated through the door as well.
Ugh.
Back at the table, I can’t help but think that the upbeat chatter during a game of Sats is forced. Frustrated when my calimeter beeps, I grab Clara’s elbow before she displaces.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.” Her face brightens. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”
“Ladies first,” I say to be nice. My patience about Willow’s strange behavior is wearing thin and it’s difficult to force a smile.
“Well, I wanted…I mean, I’ve been wanting…”
“Clara, why the stammering? What’s up?”
“It’s just, I, um, wanted to ask you about our kiss.”
Oh hell.
My body language must reflect my internal feelings because Clara drops her head to shield her disappointment.
Oh no. Please don’t cry. Please, please, please. “I’m really sorry, Clara.” I instinctively pull her into an embrace, but her arms stay crossed tightly over her chest, rejecting comfort.
“Listen, please believe me when I say you’re really great. Your friendship means the world to me, but to be in a relationship—I can’t risk having that kind of distraction. My assignment is grueling; it’s seriously tearing me apart and I can’t let down my Tragedy. Please understand.” I suddenly feel like Jackson as I ramble on. Maybe I should go easier on the guy.
Her body remains tense. I pull back enough to lift her chin from my chest, urging her face upward. Her eyes skim mine and then shoot down, freezing on my T-shirt collar.
“So it’s nothing against me personally?” To see her sad makes my chest tighten.
“Clara, you’re beautiful. I’m not kidding, you’re super hot. Trust me, if I were looking for a relationship, you’d be at the top of my list.”
“Really?”
“Swear.”
Catching myself fixating on her lips when she lifts her head, I internally curse. “So, uh, we should probably get to our assignments.”
As if she knew I was thinking about the possibility of tasting her lips again, her cheeks turn pink. When I put more space between us, her hand disappears into her shimmery-silver purse.
I dig into my jeans pocket and make a fist around the metal heart. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah.” Clara’s hand reappears from her bag with its prize, but her tight grip conceals the item. “Displace,” she whispers and falls through the hardwood floor.
Only when I’m falling through the clouds does it occur to me that I never asked her about Willow’s peculiar behavior. Damn.
Back at Meggie’s, the electricity has already popped back to life, but Meggie’s mom’s living room is darkened by the curtains and quiet aside from the air conditioner unit humming outside. I retrieve the book from my bag and do my reading, grateful to learn Lawson and I will get a breather this evening. Meggie and Brody drift in and out of sleep and eventually they move to the bedroom together.
I’m thankful to be sharing an assignment with Lawson, a man of few words. If I had to be here with Billy, he and I would surely spend our time on Earth trying to kill each other. And Jackson…sheesh, just the thought of his non-stop jabbering is tiresome.
I close my eyes and my mind drifts to my scars, trying to remember where they came from. When that fails, I think about Clara. Then, for the sake of my sanity because I’m spending way too much time imagining her lips, I shift my thoughts to training.
Could Billy have really thought I was scared of him? True, the guy could probably flatten me, but I would never allow myself to back down from such a jerk.
Then there’s Evelynn, who’s even more dangerous than Billy. I wonder how long it takes her to get over things. If I’m lucky, maybe now she’ll leave me alone. Or maybe she’s not as bad as I think and I should lighten up. Who am I kidding? She’s worse. Much, much worse.
I stop thinking about Evelynn, about everything, and let my mind go blank. There hasn’t been much quiet time lately and I plan to take full advantage of it.
When Brody and Meggie wake the next morning, the day starts rough. Brody is the first one to cry. Meggie holds him while he repeats, “Why did it happen? Why are they gone?” into her messy blond hair.
She cries with him for about an hour with Lawson and I occasionally throwing in a block or two to calm them down. When they are both too worn down and dehydrated to carry on any longer, the four of us go into the kitchen.
Brody opens a cabinet and reaches for a cup. Lawson, Meggie, and I jump in unison when the trill of breaking glass fills the small kitchen.
“It’s not fair!” Brody grabs another glass from the cabinet, then sends it to the floor with its twin, causing glass fragments to explode across the tile.
“Block him!” I shout at Lawson.
As if he was in a trance, Lawson pops alert and gives the order.
I’m certain that Lawson has calmed Brody down until his hand shoots back up to the cabinet. Meggie is by the oven, covering her face and balling.
“Lawson!” I bark in frustration as another glass meets the floor. This time, the shards come much to close to Meggie’s bare legs.
My filter comes fast and Brody is engulfed in translucent blue. Without thinking, I grab for him and push him away from the cabinet. He slams into the island and Lawson has me pinned on the floor a second later. Me! Like I’m the bad guy.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” he growls, one inch from my nose.
I push against him. What the heck is this guy built from?
“If you can’t control him, I will!” I groan back, trying to wiggle free.
In the silent five seconds that follow, I consider Lawson’s next move. He could crush me if he wanted, but I’m hoping he’ll come up
with something else—something a little less painful.
He lets me go and turns to Brody, who’s on the floor at the base of the cabinet. Brody’s expression mirrors Meggie’s because neither of them have a clue what just happened. Not knowing what I was capable of, I can’t deny that I’m a little surprised myself.
Heat is radiating from both palms where they touched Brody, hot enough that my calloused skin should be blistered, but isn’t.
On the training field after a much-needed uneventful afternoon with Brody and Meggie, I’m grateful Lawson decided to drop the incident in the kitchen. Even better is that he’s being civil to me out here. Trying to imagine a role reversal, I’m not sure if I would be so kind if he touched Meggie.
Evelynn isn’t her usual, free-spirited self. If looks could kill—well, she’d still be too seductive for her own good, even through her seething. She doesn’t say a word to me. Thank goodness for small favors.
Billy, however, is vocal, not that I expected anything less. He actually thinks his pretty-boy and princess comments bother me, but he’s easy enough to ignore, especially after Jonathon pairs us off for workouts.
Crossing the field with Trina, I notice she’s not pierced, arrogant, impossibly huge, impossibly small, or half-naked. I like her. She makes small talk about how I’m doing with my assignment, but doesn’t press for details. I ask her the same sort of questions, and I don’t press either.
When we’re positioned away from the others, she asks if I want to block or be blocked. The real question is whether I want to be tormented by the pain of sending my thoughts or would I prefer to have someone else inside my head? Neither is a great option. Because sending my thoughts hasn’t made me any friends, I opt for letting her block me.
She promises to play nice even though she’s already a saint compared to Evelynn. This is because of her kindness, and because Trina’s T-shirt is made from cotton and covers more than just four inches of skin.
“All right,” Trina says. “Come at me.”
I force myself not to groan. “Why is this always the direction?”
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t come after you. You’re a girl.”
She puts a hand on her hip. “Think I can’t handle it?”
After gauging her expression, I try to disguise my smile. “No offense, but there’s no way you could handle it.”
“Really?”
“Come on Trina, you’re five foot nothing. That alone should be reason enough.”
She charges me. What the—
Somewhere between my laughter and shock, I end up on my back with her standing over me.
“You were saying?” Shadowed from the bright sun overhead, her expression is unreadable.
I take her extended hand for help up and brush off my backside. “I stand corrected.”
She smiles. “Good. Now come at me.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I can’t.”
After her mouth opens soundlessly, she snaps her jaw back into place with a click. “Fine. Sit then. Will that work for you?”
“Perfect.”
After she says the order, cold darkness wraps around me, but vaporizes as fast as it came.
Stay standing! my own voice screams in my head. That’s what my feet were made for, after all: to stand. Stand, stand, stand, all day long…
Sit, you idiot!
Stand!
Sit!
Stand!
Sit!
The translucent blue filter clouds my sight and I snatch my opportunity, bending my knees before another thought can process.
From the ground, I look at Trina victoriously.
“Not bad.” She rubs her chin. “Do it again.”
I start to get up and she stops me.
“Stay there for a second.”
I obey and she stands up straighter.
“Now get up,” she says, followed by, “Haze.”
The lights go out and ice floods me for an instant. My butt stays planted on the ground because I don’t feel like moving an inch. Why would I? I couldn’t be more comfortable. I could stay on the ground forever. I could live here.
Get up, you pansy!
No!
GET UP!
When everything in my vision turns blue, I push off the ground and stand. The cycle is getting easier to distinguish, which makes it easier to resist the foreign thoughts. Even if they are in my own voice, which is extremely weird and creepy, the thought phrases are delivered in a way that I would not think; that seems to be the common tie. Somehow my energy is connected to fighting off the thoughts as well.
Instead of being impressed, Trina is fuming. At her request, we play the game six more times. Each time, I get faster, recognizing the tone changes of my thoughts.
“How about I try blocking you?” I suggest, despite the fact that she’s pretty cute when she’s frustrated.
Before she answers, Jonathan blows a whistle and motions for everyone to join him.
I bend down to Trina as we’re crossing the field. “If it’s any consolation, Evelynn and Billy couldn’t get through either.”
Disgusted, she storms ahead of me.
“What?” I shout after her.
Hoping she’ll soften, I stand next to her when we gather around Jonathan. Billy punctuates his approach by slamming his shoulder into my back. With some effort, I only stumble forward a little.
“You should be thanking me,” I’m saying to Billy before I can stop myself. “Evelynn would never kiss a troll like you if she wasn’t under my influence.” My grin widens when Lawson laughs.
“Really?” Trina puts three steps between us, not even glancing over to see the unspoken apology on my face.
Jonathan wraps up with a “Go Team” speech and dismisses us. Trina bolts before I can stop her, leaving an opening for Evelynn to slide in beside me. This time, Evelynn manages to brush more than just her arm against me.
“Is this your way of saying you’re not ignoring me anymore?” I sneer.
“I saw you with Trina today. Impressive. How do you do it?”
No way I’d share any secret with her, especially this one. “I don’t know,” I lie. Well, mostly lie, since I can’t be sure exactly how or why I seem to be the only one able to fight against blocks.
“You’re different than everyone else.”
“Why? Because I don’t want you?” That’s what I want to say, but I stay quiet.
She pushes her invasion of my personal space to the next level as we cross the lobby. In the mosaic-tiled corridor of Benson, she grabs my arm before I step through the far right archway. Moving fast, she has me pinned between her almost-naked body and the wall.
Her hot breath is in my ear and there’s a wicked smile in her whisper. “Relax.”
My muscles tighten and I try to push lightly against her, not wanting to injure her, but wanting her off me. She fights me, though, and the physical force necessary to peel her off would hurt her for sure.
“I said, relax.” There’s no smile left in her breathy voice.
Her lips touch mine. They’re smooth, and soft, and wrong. All wrong.
Her tongue slips into my mouth and dances around mine while I stand like a paralyzed idiot. I’d shout “rape” if my lips weren’t occupied, not even caring that I’d lose my man card.
When my stupid head finally works, I do the only thing I can to get her tongue out of my mouth without hurting her. Her lips smear against my cheek and I don’t turn my head straight until I know she’s gotten the message.
Evelynn’s smile is bigger than ever. Glint.
“Nice, kid,” an acidic voice says.
When I find the very-unhappy Willow in the gawking crowd, she stomps away like everyone else seems to be doing lately, or at least those I actually want to hang out with.
“What the heck was that?” I yell at Evelynn.
“Oh, that’s just Willow—”
“Not Willow! You!”
She transforms into the poster girl of innocence. “What?”
“Stay away from me. I’m not interested. I like Trina.” The realization hits me at the exact time the words fly from my mouth.
Evelynn steps back. “Trina?”
I swallow and nod.
“Trina?” she repeats. “Really?”
My temper builds. “Yes, really!”
Evelynn thinks for a second, while the passing Satellites move to go around her. “Pity.”
My calimeter buzzes and I push the mute button. “Yeah. Pity.”
As I’m falling to Earth, only one thought bounces through my head: Trina?
10. No offense, man, but you’re no Casanova
By the kitchen table, I open Meggie’s book while she roots through the refrigerator for leftovers she can heat up for Brody. To my surprise, a handwritten note follows my usual reading.
Certainly you can understand the importance of keeping your hands to yourself.
—S
Nowhere does it say I must keep my hands to myself, just that I “can understand the importance” of doing so. I’m cool with that.
I flip the page.
You must keep your hands to yourself.
—S
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so creeped out.
An hour later, I’m blocking Meggie so she’ll eat something with Brody. She takes two bites of lasagna and runs to the sink to vomit. My next block coerces her into the shower. I sit outside the hall bathroom and listen for any signs that she’s about to derail.
Janine arrives and lets herself in while Meggie’s dressing and Brody’s cleaning the dishes. When the women appear through the doorway, my shoulders slump lower. Even in clean clothes, Meggie is so emotionless, so dead looking. She’d cry if she could, but her sunken eyes and cracked lips are proof that she’s too dehydrated.
I ride in the backseat of the minivan with Janine, Meggie, and Brody on the way to the seven o’clock therapy session while Lawson flies behind us. Meggie and Brody get through the hour of counseling like champs, dutifully talking about their kids and how much they love them. Meggie almost smiles once at a memory, but then dry sobbing erupts when she realizes her memories are all she has now.
