Somewhere in the Middle

by Linda Palmer

  Traditional American food. What the hell? If I hadn’t known better I’d have sworn he was reciting something he’d memorized. That really got me. Didn’t NowhereNear have holidays?

  “What do the Sayerses do?”

  “Oh, um, the usual. Spend too much money on presents. Buy and decorate a tree way too big for our den. Eat too many sweets. Christmas is my very favorite holiday, so I go all out.”

  “Sounds nice.” He looked so sad.

  “Do you miss your mom this time of year?”

  “I miss my mom every single day.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He just shook his head.

  “How’s the food?” I asked.

  Roone forked a bite of salad and chewed it. He gave me a thumbs up. My gaze followed his to the pile of rubble that was once our classroom. “What do you think of Teo?”

  “Stay away from him.”

  That got me. “Why? Do you know the guy?”

  “Just stay away from him.”

  “Got something against Asians?”

  “I’m pretty freakin’ sure he’s Mongolian.”

  “And you know this how?” The stubborn set of his jaw was my answer, as in I wasn’t going to get one. “Why can’t you open up to me? Do I have a big mouth or something?”

  “No. Of course not.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? Sometimes life is…tricky. My life is tricky.”

  “Tricky? What does that mean?” I’d never been more frustrated.

  “It means I’m different.”

  “I believe I told you that already.”

  He blinked. “Do I stick out at McAlister High?”

  “You mean besides being bigger, stronger, and psychic?”

  Roone froze, his hand halfway to his mouth. “Is that what everyone’s saying?”

  I noticed he hadn’t denied it. “No. That was a joke—just me trying to figure out how you knew that bus was about to annihilate our English room. It’s not like there were windows.”

  “I—”

  “Roone Thorsen?”

  Roone and I were suddenly approached by a woman with a mic and a man with a professional video camera. I recognized the call letters on both, which told me they were from a Huntsville TV station. How had they gotten onto our closed campus? I wondered, trying see past them to the gate.

  Just then the bell rang, signaling second lunch. Students poured out of the buildings, many of them detouring our way out of curiosity when they saw the news crew.

  “Are you Roone Thorsen?” the lady with the mic asked again.

  “Yes.” He had that old deer-in-the-headlights look.

  “I’m Tasha Hilliard, reporter for KNews.” The woman flipped a strand of her teased blond hair over her shoulder. “I understand you saved a lot of lives today. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Roone set aside his food and stood, as did I. His hand fumbled for and found mine. Our fingers laced. “I’d rather not.”

  “I can,” said Summer Porter, who had English with us. Stepping forward, she instantly launched into the dramatic story of how Roone had suddenly started yelling in the middle of class to get us out of the building. “And there aren’t even any windows, so we don’t know how he knew it was coming.”

  Tasha zoned in on Roone and stuck her mic right under his nose, which drew my eyes to her fake red fingernails. “How did you know that bus was headed your way?”

  “I, um, heard it.” His panicked gaze moved from person to person in the group crowding in on us.

  “Did anyone else hear it?” Tasha looked all around.

  I saw that her cameraman was filming all the headshakes. Not good. So not good. “Actually, I did,” I told her. “I just didn’t realize what it was.” Roone gave my hand a grateful squeeze.

  “So you heard the bus, too.” Tasha seemed doubtful, probably because it made the whole story a little less interesting.

  I nodded. “Yes. And I can’t believe no one else did.” I turned slightly and scanned the growing crowd of students. “Jack Bailey, you sit right next to me. Didn’t you hear all that revving out in the parking lot and then the bump when the bus jumped the concrete divider?”

  He frowned. “You know, I think I did. But I’m like you. I didn’t realize it meant danger.”

  “I’m pretty sure I heard it, too,” said Susan Winship.

  I saw some other students nodding thoughtfully. Thank God for “Brain Games,” a TV show I regularly watched. Just the past week, the charismatic host had proved how easily memories could be altered, even our most recent ones.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Principal Morris descended on us, clearly irate. “All visitors have to check in at the desk, Ms…”

  Chapter Eight

  “Hilliard. Tasha Hilliard.” She slashed her hand across her throat to stop the cameraman from filming. “Sorry about that. You must be Richard Morris.” As she offered him her hand, she began to sweet talk her way out of trouble. Roone stole that moment to back us into the crowd, which politely parted and then closed up again once we were through.

  The minute we got clear, he and I loped for the caf door. Once inside, we headed straight through it and into the locker area, which was always fairly deserted at lunch.

  Roone was so beside himself by that time, he actually forgot to help me with the steps. That scared me a little. “Geez, Roone. Are you okay?”

  “What I am is in deep shit.”

  “With who? Your classmates obviously adore you.”

  He just shook his head.

  More secrets. Great. I felt tears sting my eyes, a completely ridiculous reaction to his reticence, all things considered. “We can hang around here until class.”

  “Okay.”

  We stood without talking until the warning bell rang, ending lunch. Then we walked as far as we could together in chilly silence, parting without see you laters. Present in body only, I somehow made it through Chemistry. And when Roone and I met in the hall after class, I went with a decision I’d made while Mr. Graham explained dissociation constant—pretend that day hadn’t been different from all others.

  I wasn’t sorry when the final bell rang that afternoon. After a quick stop in the school office to get belongings rescued from the portable building by firemen, Roone and I did the locker thing. After that, we headed to my car, but only after we made sure there weren’t any strange vans with TV station call letters on them stationed in the parking lot. I really didn’t give my un-boyfriend a close look until he was about to start the engine. That’s when I realized how stressed and tired he appeared.

  I instantly felt bad for all my mean thoughts. “Mind if we make a quick stop before we go home?”

  “Where to?”

  “My rock.”

  He slowly smiled, and we wound up at my favorite spot looking out over the valley, dotted with fields and houses. The sky had never been so blue or the sun so bright, though more storm clouds hovered low on the horizon. Patches of snow that the sun hadn’t completely melted glistened here and there.

  “I’m just going to ask one question about today.” I didn’t look at Roone, who sat beside me, our arms and thighs touching. “And I want an honest answer.”

  I felt him tense.

  “Why didn’t you nudge that bus the way you did the chandelier?”

  Roone wilted like a day lily at sunset.

  “Don’t worry,” I quickly told him. “I may know what you are, but I don’t think anyone else does yet. So what’s it like to be telekinetic?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “There’s no point in hiding it now. You can clearly move things with your mind. I mean, I saw you do it. And I think you can hear things other people can’t hear. What’s the term for that…? Oh yeah. Clairaudient. So that’s two psychic gifts you have. Are there any more?”

  He hesitated, but finally gave in with a shrug. “Yeah.”

  Making progress. “Wow. What’s it like to be so in tune with everything?”

  Roone laughed sof
tly. “Pretty freakin’ sweet, actually.”

  At last…the truth. “Why are you keeping it a secret?”

  “People get a little crazy when they think you know things you shouldn’t.”

  Our gazes met. I suddenly acknowledged the implications of Roone’s gifts as far as his dad’s cosmic-bridge theories were concerned. Had Thorsen seen so much firsthand that he’d begun hypothesizing possibilities other astrophysicists wouldn’t consider? It wasn’t as if psychics were routinely accepted by physicists.

  I realized Roone now seemed a little sad and thoughtlessly did what came naturally—hug him. It was from the side and a little awkward, but he seemed to appreciate it. We left shortly after, both of us feeling a whole lot better though probably for different reasons. Unfortunately, our good moods tanked when we got to Roone’s house. In his driveway sat the KNews van. I saw Tasha standing on his front porch earnestly talking to Bo Thorsen, whose face was as red at her stylish business suit. A cameraman dressed more casually stood on the lawn filming everything.

  Roone braked my car, slowing it to a crawl and then slammed his hands on the steering wheel. “Shit, shit, shit!” I knew he wanted to hit the gas and get out of there before they spotted us, but he didn’t. Pulling my Trans Am into the drive, he abruptly killed the engine. “Dad’s going to be so pissed.”

  “Because you saved a class full of students? I don’t think so!” I barreled from the car and headed for the porch, fully prepared to take on Thorsen if it would save his son more grief. But first I had to get rid of a very nosy news crew even though it wasn’t my place to do it. How, I didn’t know.

  Roone quickly caught up and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “What are you doing?”

  “What any good girlfriend would do in this situation—deflecting.” I yanked my arm free, charged ahead, and bounded up the steps where Roone’s father now sputtered like an engine running on fumes. “Hi, Mr. Thorsen. What’s all this?”

  “Everly, er, hi.” Though he might not be glad to see me, he sure didn’t mind the interruption. “This is Tasha Hilliard from the news, here about something Roone did at school…?” He waited for his son to fill in the blanks.

  “We’ve already met, and I told them it was nothing,” Roone said.

  “I think twenty of your classmates would totally disagree.” Tasha gave us a simpering smile. “With the world in the shape it’s in, our viewers crave happy endings, Roone. I simply want to clarify the details of this one. Surely you don’t mind a few quick questions.”

  “Honestly, I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “But—”

  I stepped in front of Roone. “He said ‘no.’” Was it my place to butt in? Absolutely not. Would my parents flip out if they knew I was doing it? Absolutely yes.

  “And who are you?” asked Tasha, her tone icy cold.

  “Everly, Roone’s overprotective girlfriend.”

  Thorsen’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I remember you now.” Tasha gave me her full attention, blue eyes flashing as her gaze raked my clothes and hair. She clearly wasn’t impressed with what she saw, which made two of us. “There’s no reason to protect your boyfriend, Evelyn. I don’t bite.”

  “It’s Everly,” said Roone. He sounded pissed.

  Tasha took advantage of his attention. “As I was telling your father, I’ve already talked with the principal, the law, and most of your classmates, so I just have a few more questions.” She glanced at a notepad she held. “Now both of you were in that classroom this morning, right?”

  I fielded that one. “Yes.”

  Tasha flicked a glance my way. “So your boyfriend saved your life? How romantic.”

  Not the way she said it. “Wasn’t it?” I edged back and tucked my arm through Roone’s, only then realizing how badly he was trembling. “Thank goodness someone in that building had enough sense to put two and two together, because none of the rest of us did.”

  Tasha didn’t seem convinced of my story. She deliberately shifted her gaze from me back to Roone. “A couple of your classmates told us that you’re new in town. Where are you from?”

  “Nowhere near here.”

  “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “No.”

  I faked an airy laugh. “Who gets to be a hero more than once besides Superman, Batman, or maybe Spiderman?”

  But Tasha could not be distracted from Roone. “An old friend of yours named Teo Liu told me you were psychic.”

  I deliberately widened my eyes when I turned to Roone. “Teo’s a friend of yours?”

  Roone shook his head. “Fourth period was the first time I ever laid eyes on the guy.”

  “Teo just started at McAlister High today,” I said, my gaze boring into Tasha again. “So he doesn’t really know anyone in the senior class. As for the psychic part…are you, Roone?”

  He managed a laugh that sounded pretty natural. “Believe me if I were I’d have cut English today.”

  Could Tasha tell he was lying? I didn’t think so. I gave her my sweetest smile. “Any more questions?”

  Her lips pinched with displeasure, Tasha leveled her gaze at me. “Do you always do the talking for your boyfriend?”

  “Only when he’s dead on his feet and too polite to say so.”

  “Then I just have one more question.”

  “Actually, you’ve asked your last,” said Thorsen, finally taking charge of the situation. “Goodbye, Miss Hilliard.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll walk you guys to your van.” I started forward only to stop when Roone’s right hand clamped down on my upper arm.

  “They can get there on their own.”

  Thorsen nudged his son toward the door, which meant I went, too. Once we were inside the house, he shut and locked it, clearly fuming. All I could do was stand there in awkward silence watching them stare each other down.

  “I can’t believe this,” said Thorsen.

  “It was definitely bad luck,” Roone told him.

  “You couldn’t have—?”

  “No.”

  Suddenly Thorsen grabbed his son’s left forearm and raised it so that the black rubber wristband was in view. “Remember this?”

  “I know, okay? I get it. What was I supposed to do, let it happen? Everly sits on that side of the building. She might’ve been hurt.”

  Thorsen opened his mouth to say something, but then didn’t.

  Roone took advantage of his silence. “She knows I’m telekinetic, by the way.”

  “I guessed,” I said. “And I promise his secret is safe with me.”

  For the longest time, Thorsen just looked at me. Then he heaved a sigh, turned on his heel, and left us by heading toward their den.

  “Did you move here because of your gifts?” I asked, fairly certain I’d finally figured everything out.

  “Yeah.”

  “And fear of exposing them is why you can’t have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah.” His relief told me I finally had the whole story.

  “You could’ve shared this last week, you know. I’m not and never have been a blabbermouth.”

  “I was trying to keep my dad happy, okay? My gifts have been hard on him, on all of us.”

  Though I wanted to tell Roone exactly what I thought of fathers who didn’t support their gifted children, I kept my mouth shut.

  “So we’re good?” he softly asked.

  “We are.”

  I didn’t linger. I figured that Roone and his dad needed to talk. Once I got home, I had to tell both my parents and Eli my version of the facts, minus the psychic part, of course. Eli was enraptured by the story since I took great pains to describe the squad cars, the ambulance, and the fire truck, details included just for him, the little boy fascinated by rescues, courage, and heroism.

  The ten o’clock news spotlighted the near disaster at McAlister High and included Tasha’s interviews with Roone, his dad, and Mr. Morris. Each lasted about twenty seconds. Half of an arm w
as all of me that showed up on screen, thank goodness. I’d once read that a TV camera made people look ten pounds heavier than they were.

  On Tuesday morning, a quick glance out the window revealed that snow remained in a few shady spots, but only on the north side of the house. The temperature still hovered around the freezing mark, though, and those perpetual storm clouds threatened snow. Though the weatherman on KNews sincerely promised we wouldn’t get any accumulation, Roone texted that he’d be picking me up in his Honda to save the Trans Am.

  At school, we found out he was still the hero, poor guy, and suddenly everyone’s best friend. Even worse, the girls were swarming him again. I had to play hard-nosed girlfriend before the first bell ever rang, an act I limited to the most persistent since that was out of character for me. Not that I shied away from confrontation if it was necessary. I mean, I’d faced down Tasha yesterday, not to mention many a thoughtless litterbug, rude smoker, or playground bully in the past. But defending a guy, especially one as big as Roone, was somehow different, and I still felt awkward doing it.

  Just as I sat in first period calculus, Teo Liu strutted into the room. That was a surprise that told me he’d started classes late in the day on Monday. Our teacher told him to pick a seat. He chose the one next to me though there were other ones unoccupied, most of them at the back of the room. Wasn’t that where most boys wanted to sit? I could barely concentrate while we worked problems from the board and not just because I felt Teo’s stare.

  Why had he told Tasha that Roone was psychic when he couldn’t possibly know that for sure? And why had Roone warned me to stay clear of him? Had Roone been lying when he said he didn’t know Teo? I couldn’t think why he would, especially now that he’d finally shared his secrets. That led me to believe that psychic him had gotten a bad feeling or something. Based on the accuracy of yesterday’s reactions, I decided I’d be smart to take Roone’s advice.

  The minute the bell rang, I started for the door. Teo cut me off. I realized he was dark to Roone’s light. Skin tone, eye and hair color, even hair length—all opposite to my un-boyfriend’s. For some reason, I felt a shiver of unease.

  “Are you busy tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner.”