Agendas

by J. F. Jenkins

  Cheyenne listened to her speak. The girl had a way of carrying on a conversation, so Cheyenne didn’t have to do a lot of the talking. She preferred it this way. Talking had never been one of her favorite pastimes. Listening, however, was, and Halyn was definitely interesting.

  The twenty minutes seemed to fly by, and at the end of it all, Cheyenne could say she at least felt comfortable with her new living arrangements. Her roommate was nice, the dorm spacious and comfortable, and she had a space to call her own. While she was still unsure of her new surroundings, it was good not to feel alone. The odd stares they received from the other students as Mrs. Orinda led them to the school dining hall did not trouble her as much as they had when she first arrived.

  The dining hall was mildly busy with students. They varied in age, but most were between thirteen and nineteen, with a few small groups of elementary-aged students being led by an adult. The hall had wooden floors and stone walls with large, arched windows overlooking either the forest or the courtyard. Each table was made of thick, dark oak, with matching chairs and a teal, silver, or black tablecloth. Some tables were squares designed for two, others were circles for a small group, and others were long and rectangular.

  “I'll be over there if you need me, and I promise I won't leave without you.” Mrs. Orinda pointed to a table off in the corner. Both girls waved. Without Mrs. Orinda there, the room was even more intimidating. Cheyenne could feel her chest beginning to tighten again. The lines for the food were long, so they found a circular table near a window.

  “Are you scared?” Halyn asked quietly, leaning across the table toward Cheyenne. “There are more people here than I thought there would be. I didn’t know there were so many of us.” She nervously pulled at a tendril of loose hair, running it through her fingers and around them a few times, before placing it behind her ear once more.

  Us. The word sent shivers through Cheyenne. “I didn’t even know there was an us out there,” she said. That was as far as the conversation went. Soon they were interrupted by a small group of students approaching the table.

  “I do believe someone is sitting in our spot,” commented a male student. He had a small hint of mild amusement in his voice. He was close to their age, maybe a few years older. Dark, shaggy hair messily fell over his blue eyes, which must have made it difficult for him to see. If it bothered him, he did nothing to fix it. He proceeded to pull a chair out from the table and sit with the girls, his small group of followers gathering behind him. They seemed more hesitant to sit, however. As he sat down, Cheyenne noticed the long, white cane he held.

  “Now, we have a couple of options, of course,” he continued as he settled into his seat casually. “The first being we all sit together and enjoy one another’s company, and the second being we find a new table to seat ourselves at and hope that next time we are quicker in claiming our spot. It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone who didn't know better.” He leaned his cane up against the table carefully and proceeded to make himself comfortable, as if to make the decision for them all.

  “Sure,” Cheyenne mumbled. “You can sit with us.” She almost said something sarcastic, but she bit her tongue. It wouldn’t be wise to make enemies at the school so soon.

  “I already knew you wouldn’t mind,” he said and motioned for the rest of his group to join him. With him was another young man who was identical to him. The only real differences between the two were that the second guy had shorter hair, dark eyes, and small horns protruding from the top of his skull. He lacked the confidence the other young man had, and sat nervously next to his identical counterpart. This also put him next to Cheyenne.

  Their other comrade was a girl, also close in age. Her hair was pure white, and it curled itself into tight and springlike coils. Her eyes were a pale gray, and her skin was creamy and smooth. She also had confidence, but she didn’t come off as friendly. In fact, she gave both girls a nasty glare. For being as petite as she was, this girl didn’t make Cheyenne feel safe in the slightest.

  “Hi, I’m Halyn.” Her roommate didn’t waste time and reached over to shake hands with everyone at the table.

  “I’m Anj Willam,” said the first boy. He shook Halyn’s hand firmly and then turned toward Cheyenne, reached across the other boy, and made a motion for Cheyenne to shake his hand. She raised her hand off her lap hesitantly and presented it to him. It took him a moment to find it, and he gave her hand a firm shake. “My apologies. I have a bit of a visual handicap if you hadn’t noticed yet. To my left is Zes, my twin brother, and to my right is Jewl. It’s a pleasure to meet you ladies.”

  Zes nodded shyly and then proceeded to dig into his dinner. He glanced over at Cheyenne awkwardly in an attempt to be polite.

  “A real pleasure,” Jewl murmured, still shooting Cheyenne dark glares across the table. There was something about her that this girl just didn't like, which was disturbing since the two had never met before. “Are we really going to stay here?”

  “Yes,” Anj stated and began to maneuver his way around his own lunch. He ran his hand over his plate of spaghetti, garlic bread, salad, and an apple before rotating it so the items were placed in a specific order clockwise. For someone with a “visual handicap,” he managed fine without his sight, though he did so in a way that wasn’t typical for most of the blind individuals Cheyenne had encountered before. He didn’t seem to care about Jewl’s anger or the discomfort of sitting at the table with two strangers, either. In fact, he didn’t seem to care about much of anything, period.

  “Now, I have her name.” He made a vague gesture toward Halyn. “But I don’t believe I got yours.” He fixed his attention on Cheyenne, and she noticed his eyes were now a dark brown like his brother's. Everyone else at the table had their eyes on her, as well. Except for Zes, who was busy coughing while he loudly ate his noodles. Even then his attention was on her indirectly.

  “Cheyenne.” She introduced herself quietly, wishing she had her own meal to poke around at, if only to have something to do with herself, but the girls still had yet to get their food. “Sorry, the line is shorter, and we need to eat. We’ll let you have your table back now.”

  Anj laughed and shook his head. “Please come back. I didn’t mean to distract you from dinner. Zes, maybe you should accompany them. I know you’re going to want dessert anyway. You always do, especially on apple crisp day.”

  “Don’t,” Zes muttered under his breath. He stood up and waited for the girls to join him before leading them through the line.

  Three different menu items were served per meal, followed by various machines serving more beverages than Cheyenne would have thought possible. Zes followed the girls through the line like a dutiful guard dog, mostly keeping to himself but never straying too far from either of them. Before the end of their brief trip, the girls had their dinners and he had his apple dessert.

  “I smell apple crisp,” Anj commented. This caused his brother to scowl as he plowed through his food. “Now, Zes, don’t be ashamed. Your predictability is an admirable attribute.” Cheyenne couldn't tell if what he said was meant as a genuine compliment or a subtle jab. Everything coming out of Anj’s mouth was done so in a bland and monotone fashion, which made him difficult to read.

  “Are you always this facetious?” Cheyenne asked him at last.

  “You doubt my integrity?” He appeared amused, and there was a slight crack in his stoic demeanor as a small smile played on his lips.

  Cheyenne bit her lip. It wasn’t like her to be this bold with a stranger, and she hadn’t intended to actually say her comments out loud. She was relieved Anj wasn’t angry with her, at least. If anything, she would have thought him impressed by her behavior, and it was this impression that made her continue to speak her mind.

  “Actually, yes, I do,” she said. “I guess I just want to know what to expect. If I should believe you, or count it all as crap.”

  “I told you, Jewl, smart.” He completely ignored Cheyenne's criticisms and focused his atte
ntion on the blonde girl who sat at his side, turning his head in her direction slightly. “You shouldn’t doubt my expertise so much. I think it would cost you fewer dinners, but then I suppose you want to owe me dinner, yes?” He returned his attention to Cheyenne and Halyn. “I do believe it was the fates who brought us together and led you to sit at this table here. I think we’ll make quite good friends. I can foresee it.”

  An irritated huff escaped Jewl’s lips before she left the table in what appeared to be a rage. Anj pulled a pocket watch out from his front-left jeans pocket and placed it closely to his eyes. They began to glow with a slight blue light. “That took less time than I thought it would.”

  “It’s not right,” Zes said between bites. His body relaxed and he slouched in his seat.

  “She does it to me all the time.”

  “Not with the new girl.” Zes smiled at Cheyenne weakly, as if offering her an apology on his brother’s behalf.

  “I did mean what I said,” Anj countered as he put his watch away. “About the fates and whatnot. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude, but I had heard there was a nymph on campus and I couldn’t resist myself.”

  Cheyenne glanced between the twins sitting next to her and then over to Halyn, who offered her roommate a sympathetic shrug. “I’m not getting it. What are you apologizing for exactly?”

  “Purposefully ruffling your feathers so I could use the opportunity to flirt with you in an effort to get back at my ex-girlfriend,” Anj supplied.

  “Did you really just have to tell me that?” she asked after a moment of silence. What little remained of her self-esteem was slowly being dwindled even further to the point of nonexistence.

  Anj leaned toward her and folded his hands in front of him in a peaceful gesture. “I am a firm believer that honesty is best. Of course, I would be a liar to say I've never lied, and will never lie, but I try. I believe it's good to be honest right from the beginning. How else can I build trust?” He paused, and his voice lowered. “I did mean what I said about the fates. If you can find it in your wonderful and generous, merciful heart to forgive me, I’d feel extremely grateful. I’ll do whatever you ask, and I’m humbly at your service.” He offered her a coy smile, trying his best to look as sweet and innocent as possible.

  It worked. Cheyenne couldn't help but laugh, and she had to give him credit for his bluntness and brutality. “Fine, but I want to know more about why I'm being used so I can at least play along next time. I also need a better tour,” she teased. She watched as his face lit up, and noted he could be adorable when he took the time to express his emotions. Even his brother mimicked the gesture. Seeing the beautiful smile doubled made it all better.

  “And some wards in case Jewl tries to hex you,” Anj commented with a snicker. “I'm sure between the four of us we'll manage to deal with it just fine.”

  “Hex? Would she really do that? She doesn't even know me. I didn't do anything.” Cheyenne swallowed hard. She didn't know a lot about magic, but she knew hexes were never a good thing. The idea of being turned into a disgusting critter or forced to do something against her will was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

  Zes shot his brother a dark look. “She has anger management issues. She'll get over it. I wouldn't worry too much.”

  It's a little late for that. Cheyenne gave him a weak smile. “I trust you.”

  Three hours later, after being shown every nook and cranny of the campus, she felt more at ease. The boys seemed to know everything about her new home and everyone in it. That was the price of being popular though. The two were apparently “it,” and with that came the knowledge of knowing everyone else's business. It made for an interesting tour, nonetheless, although the school was much larger than she’d imagined. It would take time for her to be familiar with the campus, but a vague idea was better than nothing.

  Her first day of what would prove to be an interesting year came to a much more peaceful end than she could have hoped for. She was afraid, but for the first time since being attacked by Denver, she was able to sleep with ease. This was partially due to a dream charm Halyn had placed over the room, but the reasoning behind it didn't matter to Cheyenne. What did matter was she had at least one person she could connect with, and three people who would make wonderful potential friends. She had hope.

  Chapter Five

  Cheyenne was ready to reach across the coffee table—the one thing separating her from Dr. Andrea Warhol—and throttle the thirty-something-year-old psychiatrist. The meeting in Dr. Warhol’s office was mandatory for Cheyenne. Because she was new to campus, she had to go however often the doctor deemed it necessary. At first, she didn't have many objections to it. There was a lot going on in her life, and while she didn't like the idea of having to see a therapist, it was someone to talk to—someone who was supposed to offer help and support. The operative words being supposed to, because Cheyenne found Dr. Warhol offered neither of those things. After their first meeting had started, Cheyenne was immediately having second thoughts.

  “Do you always get so angry at someone who tells you the truth?” the psychiatrist commented, pulling her long, black, wavy hair behind her head and into a loose bun. Dark spirals of hair framed her face as she picked up her notebook and jotted down a few more things.

  Dr. Warhol was an amazing beauty. Her eyes were large, dark, and almond shaped. Her skin was a wonderful, almost golden tan, and she had the kind of curves most women would die for. She was gorgeous. It disheartened Cheyenne to learn she was such a cruel woman. Then again, she should have known better than to judge purely on outward appearances.

  The doctor didn’t seem fazed at the built-up rage starting to seep out of Cheyenne. In fact, she didn't look as if she cared at all that Cheyenne was angry. If anything, she appeared to be amused by the reaction, which furthered Cheyenne's suspicions that the doctor was making her mad on purpose. She waited calmly for her patient to respond to her question.

  “You don't know me,” Cheyenne snapped. “How dare you insinuate I'm a slut?”

  Their first meeting had been held on her second day on campus. Mrs. Orinda had suggested the visit, and Cheyenne figured it made sense for her to make her first appointment before she became overwhelmed with homework.

  Still, Cheyenne had gone to the doctor's office not knowing what to expect. She'd never been to therapy before. The room appeared to be welcoming and inviting. The walls were painted warm and comforting shades of red, and the furniture was plush, black, and leather, giving the room an overall elegant feel. It didn't remind her of an office. Maybe more like a loft built for parties and dates, but not for seeing patients.

  “I didn't do any thing of the sort,” Dr. Warhol replied calmly. “Your thoughts are what betray you. You're the one who was thinking about how intrigued you were by the twins you met yesterday. I never once said you were a slut. I only commented on how you were already checking out the new local men. That seems to be all you've thought about since you've come in here—that is, when you're not thinking of how much you hate me for being an unfair and heartless…well, your language is colorful.”

  Cheyenne blushed, and she pulled her knees to her chest. She had never felt so exposed before. Was it possible Dr. Warhol read minds like Mr. Thantos? If so, Dr. Warhol didn't have any objections to invading others’ privacy.

  “Can I leave yet?” Cheyenne asked.

  “You're scheduled for ten more minutes.” The doctor got up from her seat and sat next to Cheyenne, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. It made her shiver. Her touch, which Cheyenne hoped was meant to be comforting, came off as more of a power move.

  “I don't find it fun to get into your mind and pick your every thought and being apart. My job is to help you understand yourself. What better place to start than with boys? It's simple enough, unless you'd like to dive straight into the argument with your adopted mother. I'm rather curious as to why you called her all of those horrible things. Things you don't mean. You seem to be doing that a
lot recently. Or there's always the ever-intriguing topic of your birth parents. Why did they leave you? Are you really in danger? Since when did your life become such a drama? Why you? What exactly is a nymph? You have thousands of questions we could discuss. I just picked the most pleasant.”

  “So you can read my mind,” Cheyenne said, glancing over at the woman. “I guess I'd rather start on my apparently intriguing male fascination. There isn't much that needs to be understood about it though. They're attractive and they're different from any of the guys from my other school. All the boys at my high school didn't like me. I didn't like them either. Hard to be interested in someone who pulled your hair and teased you when you were five. That doesn't mean I want to jump them all though. I'm just looking, like any other normal teenager would.” Guys were the only normal things she had at the moment. Normal felt good to her.

  “I'm well aware of this.”

  “So then why are you—”

  “It's important I understand your limits.” Dr. Warhol grabbed her notebook again and started to write some more notes. “I may be an empath and I may be able to read your thoughts, but that doesn't mean I understand you. It would be unwise of me to push a wrong button while we're in the middle of a deeper topic. You could endanger yourself and the other students.”

  With a smile, she put her notebook down on the table after she had finished writing. She dared to put her fingers through Cheyenne's hair, almost as a mother would. Cheyenne didn't like it.

  “Not that I think you're the type to suffer from deep depression,” Dr. Warhol added. “You seem to be of good mental health, if not a bit stressed. Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful. The last thing I want to do, believe it or not, is hurt you. I think we'll get along well. I can tell because we're a lot alike.”