Arcadia's Gift (Arcadia Trilogy)

by Jesi Lea Ryan

  “Lots of people are therapists. Where does the whole using your gift thing come in?”

  “I listen to the things they aren’t telling me. It makes me much more effective than a normal therapist. Most people censor their words, only speaking in partial truths. I’m not saying people are dishonest, just selective. My gift enables me to serve them better.”

  I shook my head in wonder. Outside the window, I spotted a sliver of moon in the inky black sky, reminding me of the time.

  “It’s getting late. I better get home before my mom worries.”

  Jinx grinned. “She’s sleeping. Wish I could read dreams better. I’m seeing flashes of a shirtless Hugh Jackman.”

  Ew.

  I stood and stretched.

  Jinx walked with me outside where she bent to retrieve a soggy Shopper Stopper from the ground next to her steps.

  “When do we begin?” I asked. “With the whole blocking thing? If I’m going to make it through high school, I have to find a way to ignore my classmates.”

  “I don’t have regular work hours. I work by appointment only, and I always go to my client’s homes. If my car is in the driveway, I’m home.” She inclined her head toward a newer model VW Beetle parked a few yards away. “Feel free to stop by when you have time.”

  I gave one last wave to Jinx before she turned to go back inside, and I headed home.

  Chapter 19

  After school the next day, I fumbled with the dead bolt lock on my front door. I was already inside, but couldn’t get my key out. Lony and Aaron never had trouble with this lock, but for some reason, it just didn’t like me.

  The muffled sound of Florence + The Machine began playing on my cell phone in my backpack. I let the keys dangle and dug it out.

  “Hello?” I answered, still concentrating on not breaking the key off in the door.

  “Cady? It’s Bryan. Is this a bad time?”

  “No. I’m just getting home.”

  With a hard tug the key gave way, smashing my elbow against the wall.

  “Son of a —!” I censored myself just in time. I held the phone in the crook of my neck so I could rub my funny bone. “Ouch!”

  “Are you okay?” Bryan asked. “What happened?”

  “I’m alright,” I groaned. “No big deal.”

  “Uh…do you have plans for dinner? Like with your family, I mean?” he asked.

  “No. My mother hasn’t been up for cooking much lately. Why?”

  “My parents are going out with one of my dad’s new clients. I was wondering if you wanted to go get pizza or something.”

  Whoa! Is he asking me on a date? My spine tingled at the thought. But what if I was overreacting? What if this was just a friends thing? Best to play it cool.

  “Um…sure. Sounds good.”

  “Pick you up around six?”

  We hung up, and I barreled up to my room. It was too early to get ready, so I dug out some homework to work on. Concentrating during school was a nightmare, so I had started putting in extra effort into my assignments at home in order to make decent grades.

  At school that day, I thought a lot about the whole empath thing and that storm of emotions that overcame me whenever I was around people. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, Jinx was right. I was picking up on the feelings of others. For example, I used the bathroom pass during study hall, and when I entered there was a freshman girl splashing water on her face at the sink. She’d been crying and her mascara streaked down her cheeks like skid marks. I didn’t mean to gawk at her, but the vibrations of anger rolling off of her and into me glued my feet to the spot. Goosebumps rose on my arms as the sinking feeling of betrayal coursed through me. I knew for sure these emotions were not coming from me. Two minutes earlier, I had been walking down the hallway humming along with a song stuck in my head. When the crying girl noticed me, she glared at me through the mirror and stormed out in a huff, followed by her cloud of cold rage.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I really needed to put this empathy stuff aside for a while and get some school work done.

  When my history assignment was finished, I stood and stretched. The emotional tornado was taking its toll on my muscles, filling me with tension. I yanked out the band holding my ponytail, brushed my hair out and slid a thin headband in to keep it out of my eyes. Other than some light lip gloss, I hadn’t worn makeup to school. I wondered whether I should at least brush some mascara on or something. Jeez, it’s just pizza! I scolded myself. It’s not like this is a date…is it?

  I left my jeans on, but traded my “Buffy staked Edward” t-shirt and hoodie for a light green peasant blouse. I surveyed myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Nice enough, but still casual. From my school bag, I took some cash out and tucked it into my jeans pocket. As much as Lony had tried to make me, I never took to carrying a real purse.

  The doorbell rang. I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, and to my horror, my mother was standing with the door open looking at Bryan shift his weight from foot to foot. Thankfully, she wasn’t in her bathrobe, but a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. I cringed at the sight of her matted hair on the back of her head.

  “Mom,” I called out, hurrying down the stairs. “This is my friend, Bryan Sullivan…from school. Bryan, this is my mom.”

  My mother turned at my voice and looked at me funny, almost like she couldn’t remember how she got there. “Oh…”

  “We’re going to go get some pizza. Do you want me to bring you anything back?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry.” She started to trudge up the steps toward her bedroom, but as an afterthought she added, “Don’t stay out late.”

  I watched my mother disappear around the corner with my jaw hanging open. Are you kidding me? Whether it was a real date or not, this was the first time a boy picked me up to take me out to dinner —other than Shawn anyway, and he didn’t really count. I guess I’d have thought my mother might take a bit more interest. After all, Bryan could be a meth addict or a convicted felon for all she knew. When Lony first started seeing Cane, my parents insisted on getting to know him before they would let her go off with him alone. For two weeks, he had to endure awkward family dinners and watching TV with Lony in the den while my parents wandered in and out like an Army patrol to make sure they maintained clothes on and hands visible at all times. It’s not that I wanted Bryan to have to suffer through an embarrassing third degree. I just thought she would have cared more, that’s all.

  “Ready?” Bryan asked, holding the door open for me. I could feel his nervous energy tingling my skin. I rubbed my arms briskly.

  “Sure,” I replied, brushing past him out the door. I smelled the light spicy scent of cologne and smiled. He normally didn’t bother. I was glad I gave in and brushed on mascara.

  “So,” he asked, opening the car door for me. “Where is the best pizza in Dubuque?”

  “Oh, easy. Happy Joe’s.”

  “Happy Joe’s it is then.”

  Bryan circled the vehicle and got in. When he twisted the key in the ignition music blasted out of the speakers and he fumbled to turn it down.

  “Sorry,” he said with an embarrassed grin. “I like it loud when I’m alone.”

  “No prob. I do the same thing,” I replied. “What group is this?”

  “It’s my cousin’s band, Crescendo. He’s the drummer. They play small venues in the Portland and Seattle areas. This is their demo.”

  “Not bad,” I said bobbing my head a bit with the beat.

  I directed Bryan to the pizza place. We ordered my favorite, half taco/half BLT. Bryan cringed when I told him the BLT side used mayo in place of pizza sauce, but his attitude changed once he took a bite.

  “I’m not a vegetarian exactly,” I explained, plucking the sausage bits off of my slice, “I just don’t really like meat very much. It’s a taste thing more than a moral thing.”

  “So you don’t eat steak?”

  I shook my head. “N
ope. I tried a bite of my dad’s once, but didn’t care for it.”

  “More for me, I guess.” He reached for his second slice. “I’m not picky with food at all. My mother is the must-clean-your-plate type. I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t want to end up having my dinner for breakfast the next morning, I better get it over with and eat it while it’s fresh.”

  We chatted easily through dinner, but when Bryan got up to order us some ice cream sundaes, Jinx cropped back up into my mind. All through dinner I had been trying to pay attention to my emotions and the people around me, but I couldn’t tell if I was reading people right. In the car, Bryan had seemed nervous, but I wasn’t picking any of that up from him now. In general, I was feeling happy and calm. How did I know that was my real feelings or if they were coming from someone else near me? What kind of range did this empathy thing have anyway?

  Across the dining room, I spotted a toddler who was throwing some kind of tantrum. His face was red and he wailed at the top of his lungs. The young mother kept trying to shove ice cream in his mouth to shut him up, but all that did was cause melted ice cream drool to run down his chin and neck. It gave me an idea for an experiment.

  I checked on Bryan and saw he was still waiting to place our order. I stood and started walking toward the little boy, going slowly enough that I could concentrate on any feelings I might be able to pick up from him, yet fast enough so that it would look like I was casually heading toward the restroom.

  Twenty feet from the boy and I felt nothing.

  At fifteen feet, I bent down to pretended to tie my shoe. The feelings of general happiness were faded, but I wasn’t necessarily picking up on anything negative. I stood up and began walking forward again.

  At ten feet, I stopped next to an empty table and picked up the menu lying on it. A stirring began in my belly that had nothing to do with the pizza I’d just ate. My face started to heat up and uneasiness creped over me. As I pretended to be checking the specials, I concentrated on the cool waves of feeling I was getting from the toddler’s direction. There was anger and frustration…a little bit of discomfort too. Of course, the frustration could have been coming from the mother also, who was digging in her diaper bag for something to appease her child.

  Just as I was setting the menu down to step closer, a freezing jolt shot through me as the boy lifted his fork and threw it as hard as he could onto the floor where it bounced and landed a few feet in front of me. A clear and distinct shock of rage ran through my body and settled somewhere deep inside me. I gasped audibly. The mother apologized as she came over to retrieve the fork, but I could only nod with my mouth hanging open dumbly.

  Oh. My. God. Jinx was right. I guess up until that moment I hadn’t fully believed her, but standing there with my head throbbing with a cold headache and my nerves on edge, I had to admit there was something weird going on. The little boy watched me with big brown eyes, his rosy cheeks tear stained and drool running from his lower lip. He didn’t feel as upset anymore. I guess throwing the fork got whatever it was out of his system. The mother glanced up at me and flashed a wave of embarrassment mixed with confusion. I pivoted and returned to our table.

  I buried my face on my hands, squeezing my eyes shut so hard I could see spots swimming in the blackness. What does this mean? What am I supposed to do now? I didn’t want to go through life experiencing the emotions of everyone around me! How am I supposed to go into a crowded situation like a concert or a movie theater ever again without turning into a complete head-case? Oh, no. How am I going to be able to handle school? A groan escaped the back of my throat.

  “You okay?” Bryan asked, a cool brush of concern touching my body.

  I jerked my head up to see him setting our sundaes down on the table. “I’m fine,” I said, managing a weak smile. “Just a bit of a headache.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Do you want me to take you home?” The vibrations of his concern increased.

  “No, I’ll be okay.” Forcing a fake smile, I dipped my spoon into the chocolate ice cream with warm peanut butter topping and took a small bite. “Ice cream cures headaches, you know. It’s scientifically proven.”

  “Mmmm…” he replied, swallowing the cherry from the top of his banana split. “I always knew ice cream had to be good for me. What else can it do? Cure the common cold?” The coolness of his concern warmed into something more pleasant.

  I nodded. “It’s good for colds…the flu too. Also, sprained ankles, upset stomachs and gout.”

  “Gout?” he laughed. “In that case, I think I’ll have my mother stock up our freezer with Rocky Road. I wouldn’t want to come down with gout.”

  I watched Bryan as he talked and ate his sundae in large, enthusiastic bites. When he smiled I noticed one of his teeth was a bit crooked, overlapping the one next to it. It’s funny how an imperfection like that can add so much character to someone’s face. He had a bump on the top of his nose. And a tiny mole at the base of his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The skin of his neck looked so soft. I wondered what it would be like to press my lips against it. My gaze lifted and I realized Bryan had stopped talking and was looking at me curiously. I was pretty sure my face was as red as a tomato.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked. “Do I have hot fudge on my face or something?” He wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  “No…I’m sorry.” I shook my head, feeling like an idiot. I stirred my ice cream slowly to have something else to focus on.

  “I don’t mind, you know…you looking at me, I mean.”

  A shock of invisible electricity jumped between us, making my heart pound. I peered up from under my lashes to see him grinning at me. The heat in his eyes matched the warmth I was picking up from his soul, causing my palms to go damp.

  “Whatever,” I said dismissively, trying to play it off as a joke. “Are you almost done, because it’s a school night, and I have to get home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  “Well, in that case, we better go. Orange is not my color.”

  Brian tossed a tip down on the table, and we headed out to his car. It took almost twenty minutes to get back to my house. While Bryan talked, I amused myself bathing in the warm caresses of his emotion. At first, I only felt a general feeling of contentment, kind of like a warming in the belly. It was the feeling that I got most often from him. He must be a naturally happy person, I concluded. But as we rounded the turn onto my street, I began to pick up on some anxiety vibrating off of him. I glanced over at Bryan, now who was grinning and telling me a story about something that happened at jazz band rehearsal, and wondered what he had to feel so anxious about. This emotion reading thing was interesting, but without knowing the reasons behind the feelings made it darn frustrating.

  My house was mostly dark when we pulled up. A faint glow of light from the basement windows indicated Aaron was holed up in his room. I could also see the violet flickering of a television on in my mother’s bedroom. She hadn’t even left the porch light on for me.

  Bryan trailed behind me up to my front door, his hands shoved deep down in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders rounded. I fumbled to fit the key into the door lock in the darkness. Stinking dead bolt!

  “Here, let me help,” he said.

  I handed him my keys and stepped out of the way. With a jiggle and a flick of his wrist, the bolt shot open.

  “There you go.” He picked up my hand, placed the keys into my palm and closed my fingers around them. But he didn’t let go. At his touch, I felt his nervousness amplified.

  We stood there for a moment, both of us looking at my small fist cradled in between his two large hands, his thumb rubbing my skin in lazy circles. His palms were soft but the fingers on his left hand and right thumb had calluses. I ran my finger over the thick pads.

  “From playing my guitar,” he explained, the tone of his voice thick.

  “Do they hurt?” I asked softly. We were standing close enough that I could feel the warmth rising from his skin.<
br />
  “Not anymore.”

  He reached for my other hand, folding it into his. “Your hands are so cold,” he commented.

  That’s because all of my blood has risen to my face. “And you’re so warm.”

  But it wasn’t just the warmth of his hands that were heating me up. Waves of excitement and anticipation rolled between us. My heart palpitated wildly.

  I raised my eyes to meet his. Though the corner of his mouth curved upward, his expression was serious. Even in the dark, I could see his gaze dip to my lips.

  Bryan lifted a hand to touch a lock of my hair. So softly I could barely hear it, he whispered, “Cady, I want to kiss you.”

  Somehow I was able to swallow the lump in my throat and reply, “I want you to kiss me too.”

  A glimmer of exhilaration flashed in his eyes as he leaned down and slanted his lips on top of mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d been kissed —I guess I had to count Tyler Galvin from ninth grade —but being able to feel the emotion from both mine and Bryan’s perspectives was almost indescribable. Waves of nervousness turned into waves of pleasure as our lips parted deepening the kiss. The soft scent of his cologne mingled with the sweetness of his ice cream taste, making my head swim with delicious intoxication.

  My breath became ragged as adrenaline coursed through our bodies. I gripped his shoulders for fear my legs would melt out from under me. Bryan placed a warm hand on the small of my back and threaded the fingers of his other hand through the back of my hair, sending shivers down my neck. Energy flowed back and forth between us in each place we touched like feedback. So complete was the emotional circuit between us, I almost couldn’t sense where I stopped and he started. I pushed my body against his, unable to get close enough. The pressure building and building until —.

  Bryan’s mouth lifted from mine. I gasped. I could still feel the humming between us, but there was also a twinge of disappointment…on both of our parts, I think.

  He touched his forehead to mine, his eyes drifting closed. “I wish I could stay here and kiss you all night, but my parents are probably home and wondering where I am.”