by Drew Hayes
“You can put them under the tree!” Carmen squealed excitedly. “You can’t miss it, the lights are using a new filament I designed that makes them three times brighter!”
“Three times brighter? That is very impressive.”
“Carmen, before we show your uncle the tree, you need to go wash up. We’re going to have lunch soon.”
“Awwwwwwwww.”
“Don’t ‘aw’ me, young lady. Clean hands at the table,” Sara reiterated.
“Fiiiine,” Carmen yielded. She sprinted up the stairs to her bathroom, where she would be torn between her inclination to dawdle and her desire to see her uncle.
“That will give us a few minutes,” Sara said once the child-shaped cache of energy had left the room. “Let’s get you settled.” The two walked briskly down the hallway, their shared heritage evident in the way they moved and the general shape of their bodies. Sara opened a door on the right of the hall and ushered her slightly-older brother through it. He set his bag on the bed, but only after removing a few crayon drawings that already littered the top of the comforter.
“So, how is she doing?” Mr. Numbers flipped through the papers, admiring his niece’s handiwork. She wasn’t much of an artist, but he did like the sketch of a pony jumping over a differential equation.
“Better,” Sara replied, moving some clothes she’d meant to put away before he arrived. “It’s still hard on her with her father on the road for work so much. I think she’s less lonely since she got into her new courses. Some of the tenured professors there are able to speak on her level, which seems to make her feel a lot more included.”
Mr. Numbers folded the drawing and slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “She’s doing better than I did at her age.”
“That’s not a terribly high bar to make it over,” Sara said with a sly look. From anyone else it would have been an insult; from his sister it was endearing sass.
“Granted. Has she had any luck making friends her own age?”
“Not really. She gets along fine when they’re talking about cartoons and games, but sooner or later she’ll reference the gravitational equation during a round of jump rope and then she’s back on the outside.”
“I’ll talk to her. If nothing else I can take her to an ice show or something while I’m here. Carmen deserves to be a kid.”
“She’ll love that.” Sara hesitated a moment, then continued. “You know, Luke, when we were kids I always thought you were full of it every time you talked about how hard it was to be different.”
“You thought I was just being a whiner.”
“I did. I couldn’t fathom how having a brain like yours was anything but a blessing. Now, raising Carmen and seeing her always trying so hard to find a place where she belongs, I get what you meant. I’m sorry I wasn’t a little more understanding back then.”
“Sara, it was absurd for me to expect you to understand. You had no frame of reference, no way to comprehend what I was talking about,” Mr. Numbers reassured her. “I’m just glad Carmen at least has a mother who can make her feel loved and accepted. Hopefully that will keep her from ending up like me.”
“Oh yes, heaven forbid she end up like her uncle, the wildly successful corporate accounts analyst,” Sara said. “Come on, let’s go put your presents under the tree. You and I both know if Carmen so much as hears them slide in the box she’ll deduce what’s inside.”
Mr. Numbers pulled several brightly colored boxes from his suitcase and followed his sister back down the hallway.
* * *
There was a thick layer of snow on top of the steel roof that protected the seemingly abandoned concrete building. Occasionally a sheet of frosty white precipitation would slide onto the ground with a muffled thump. Had there been any passers-by, they might have assumed the interior to be water-logged and decrepit. They would have, at the very best, presumed it to be cold and barren as the chill soaked through the concrete walls. They would certainly never have imagined that Christmas lights glowed along the doorways or that the pleasant smell of cooking turkey permeated through its halls.
Persephone was in a small room that had once been an office when this place had been functional. Now they’d stuffed it with free weights and a boxing bag to create a makeshift gym. It wasn’t much compared to the facilities she’d left behind, but it served its purpose. A series of quick blows to the bag made echoing thuds throughout the room. Persephone loved that sound; it brought a multitude of memories flooding back every time.
“You should clean up. We’re going to eat soon.” Persephone didn’t have to turn; she knew His voice by heart. She turned anyway. He stood in the open doorway, sporting the usual unflappable smile. A few flakes of snow trickled out of His hair, remnants of His trip earlier in the day.
“I’m fine. I’ll eat when I finish up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Christmas, this is a time for being with family.”
“None of us are related,” Persephone quipped, turning her attention back to the bag.
“You say that like it matters.”
“Of course it matters. Isn’t that the basis of family?” Persephone could feel Him looking at her without turning her head. No, it was worse than that; she could feel Him looking through her. A gentle hand settled on her shoulder and it was all she could do not show any reaction.
“Blood means nothing more than similar genetic markers,” He said, His voice both firm and calming at once. “Family is who you care about, and I can assure every person at that table cares a great deal about you.”
Persephone closed her eyes. She could have called bullshit on anyone else for dropping a line like that, but not Him. It wasn’t just that He genuinely believed it, it wasn’t even that He made other people around Him desire to believe it. It was that He made it true. He didn’t merely see the world the way He wanted it to be, He actually changed the world by moving through it. All of His power, and it was still this mundane yet impossible ability that mesmerized Persephone more than any other. It was why she’d chosen Him to believe in after her... incident, it was why she’d thrown away her entire career to help Him.
“Geez, you’re corny,” she said, eyes still firmly shut. “Let me shower and I’ll come join you guys.”
“We’ll wait for you,” He assured her, releasing her shoulder with one last comforting squeeze.
92.
The dawn of the spring semester is generally a cheerful occasion, regardless of the individual campus one analyzes. Though the prospect of returning to classes looms just over the horizon, there is the promise of new friends and lovers that will be met over the coming months. There is also the joy of re-joining with friends that were scattered to the winds in their own treks home. It is this unique combination of new and old that manages to overpower even the crushing ennui of facing more tests and papers. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, and not every reunion is a welcome one.
Alex was halfway to his floor when he sensed a very familiar mind. It was three floors up and several doors over, but the minute he touched it he knew who it belonged to. Alex contemplated turning around and going back to his car. He had very little stowed away in the trunk, and nothing that was perishable. A few hours out of the air-conditioning wouldn’t do any lasting harm.
Ultimately he decided against it and resumed his upward journey. He might have gone for the run if he hadn’t felt the steely determination in the mind that was waiting for him. She wasn’t going to leave. She knew he could sense her before she saw his face and she was determined to wait right where she was until he gave in and went to his room. Alex knew damned well that once she was set on something there was no turning her around. Besides, better to get this out of the way as soon as possible.
Alex stepped out of the stairwell and shifted the box he was holding. It wasn’t particularly heavy, not to someone with frequent physical conditioning at least, but he felt compelled to do something with his hands and the box was the most convenient i
tem to fiddle with. She was sitting in front of his door, looking down the hall at him. As he drew closer, she pulled herself to a standing position.
“Hey,” Selena said softly.
“Why are you here?” Alex’s tone was harsher than he might have chosen under different circumstances; however, this was an occasion where a gentle approach would only do more harm than good.
“I was hoping we could talk. I tried to call you over the break.”
“I know. I ignored the calls.” Alex brushed past her and unlocked his door. He struggled with a moment of internal debate as he twisted the knob: should he keep Selena in the hall or let her in? If he let her in then things could take the wrong turn and get complicated, but if they stayed in the hall the neighbors who were returning would see far more of his personal life than Alex was comfortable with. He walked in and set his box down, leaving the door open behind him. Selena could make her own decision on what was best for the conversation.
There was a click as Selena shut the door. Alex sat down in his computer desk chair and swiveled around to face her. The bed would have been more comfortable; but it also would have been vastly more dangerous.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Selena said, shifting in place. She didn’t make any motion to sit. This wasn’t supposed to be comfortable for her; she understood that much already.
“You’ve already said that, multiple times,” Alex reminded her. “I understand that you’re sorry. I’ll probably even be able to forgive you one day, once I’ve gotten some distance from all of this.”
“Alex, it was a mistake and I know it. I came to you after it happened and told you everything. Please, I really like you. I don’t want things to end like this.”
“That might have been something to keep in mind before you fucked Allen at Thomas’s party.”
Selena didn’t draw back at the crude comment, she merely nodded her head. Later, many hours and miles from this moment, she would sob muffled tears in the dark of her room. It wouldn’t be because of his harsh words, or because he reminded her of her sin. It would be because she’d done something so horrible that the gentlest boy she’d ever met could act that viciously towards her.
“It was a mistake,” Selena repeated. “I was drunk, and you weren’t there, and...”
“And you cheated on me,” Alex finished for her. “We’ve had this fight, like, five times now, Selena. I know you feel bad about it, I really do, but I don’t want to be with someone I can’t trust.”
“You can trust me! I told you everything that happened the very next day!” Selena’s voice was rising; she was losing her calm demeanor. Alex felt a rising urge to comfort her. His instincts hadn’t gotten the memo that the girl he’d spent nearly a year nuzzling was now no longer to even be touched. He needed to end this before desire and love overcame basic reasoning.
“I’ll admit, you did tell me the very next day,” Alex agreed, rising from his chair. “But I have to wonder, was that because you couldn’t bear to lie to me, or because you knew it would only be a matter of time before I sensed all the guilt leaking out of you and decided to dig deeper?” His eyes bore into her almond-colored irises. He wasn’t looking for any twitches or glances: he didn’t need such tricks to know the truth. He simply wanted to look into those eyes one last time before he banished them from his life.
“I didn’t want to lie to you,” Selena said forcefully. Her tone was even, her body language secure. Alex could have believed her; hell, he wanted to believe her. It would have given them some place to work from, shaky and unstable but not impossible to fortify. It would have been hope. Alex didn’t believe her, because he could sense the worms of doubt wriggling through her mind. She didn’t really know for certain whether she would have come clean had her boyfriend not been telepathic. It was understandable; that kind of moral dilemma is tested in the doing, not in speculation. However, the fact remained that she didn’t know what she would have done, which meant Alex knew what he had to do. Relationships were built on trust, trust that he simply no longer possessed.
“I don’t believe you,” Alex said. There was no anger in his voice, no fierceness, only a cold sense of detachment. “I don’t trust you. Right now, I don’t even like you. It’s over. One day maybe we can be civil to one another, but we are never going to be together again.”
“But-”
“Never. Stop calling me. Stop dropping by my dorm. Don’t even talk to me. There is nothing left between us. Now get out.”
Selena stared at him for a moment, her mouth opening once but closing before any sound escaped. She turned and walked over to the door, pulling it open slowly, as if waiting for him to stop her from walking out. He didn’t. It was only willpower and pride that kept her from taking one last glance back as she left the room and walked carefully down the hallway.
To his own credit, it was nearly a full minute after the door closed before Alex’s first tears began to fall.
93.
The first few days of classes were largely unremarkable. Syllabi were handed out, new classrooms scanned and assessed for hook-up possibilities, and stomachs were forced to readjust to dorm food after several weeks of home-cooked goodness. Below the lush grass of Lander’s campus, a relatively small percentage of the total student population were dealing with stiff bodies and sore muscles as they got back into their training regimens. The smarter ones had kept up with at least a semblance of practice during the break, but even they needed an extra-long soak in the hot tub by the time the first week was drawing to a close. Within this sum of time that was, as previously mentioned, largely unremarkable, there were two quite remarkable events that occurred.
The first was a familiar posting of paper that was found by the gym on the sophomores’ first day back. It read: “March 1st. Team 1 vs. Team 2. Team 3 vs. Team 4.” It was gone the next day, as expected; however, like a tanker ramming through a dock, even once the cause was no longer visible the aftermath was abundantly evident. Efforts redoubled, training increased, and stress bubbled up in even the most stoic of students.
The second event was a two-person meeting that occurred in the classroom assigned to Professor Pendleton, in which a student turned in his extra-credit assignment.
“I have to hand it you,” Nick said as he sauntered in five minutes late for their appointment. “That actually proved to be a bit of a challenge.”
“Glad to hear that uncovering information that has the highest level of classification was ‘a bit’ of a challenge,” Professor Pendleton replied snidely. The truth was he was a little impressed the kid had actually pulled it off, or at least thought he had. Even for someone like Nick it should have been almost impossible to access that information.
“What can I say? I’ve got a gift.”
“That remains to be seen. So, what is your theory?”
“No foreplay or monologue, just right to the main event, huh? Fine, Blake Hill, in what has to be the least innovative naming convention of all time, worked as a Hero under the moniker Black Hole,” Nick said with a dramatic drop into the nearest seat. He’d planned much more theatricality for the reveal, but Professor Pendleton had taken all the style out of it.
“Nicely done,” Professor Pendleton complimented. “You pass.”
“Goody gumdrops.” Nick took a moment to stretch out in the desk, sprawling across it more effectively than one might have thought logistically possible. “I thought it was a little funny, finding out he was Black Hole. It sounded familiar, and then I remembered that was one of the people on the Hero team with Globe, Intra, and The Alchemist.”
“Most of the professors here had illustrious careers before settling into a teaching role.” Professor Pendleton could have said all instead of most if he and Professor Fletcher weren’t on the staff.
“I’m certain they did. I’m guessing all of them weren’t on an infamous team with Alice’s father.” Nick’s teeth became visible beneath a wicked grin. He might have gotten robbed of one of his reveals,
but he had a feeling he’d get to enjoy the next one.
“You know about that?”
“Alice told me last year, back when we were doing a project on Globe. Strange, given how much time they spend together on her training that Professor Hill has never once mentioned his long friendship with her dad.”
“We keep a distance between ourselves and the students. We have to be objective to be able to teach you effectively,” Professor Pendleton replied.
“Some of you do, I’ll grant you that. Still, it seemed like the kind of thing that might have come up in conversation, even casually. There were reasons why it might not, like if Professor Hill wasn’t sure that Alice knew about her father’s Hero exploits. Then I remembered something else from last year. A tidbit of info I picked up when I made a scrapbook for Alice of her mother.” Nick’s sprawl had become compact as he spoke and he drew himself tall into a position of authority.
“That would be?”
“Her mother’s last name, or rather, her maiden name. If I recall correctly, which I always do, it was Hill.”
“Hill is a common last name,” Professor Pendleton rebutted.
“Sixteenth most common in America. It was still enough to make me dig deeper. Funny thing, county birth records aren’t nearly as secure as you’d think.”
“I do have other appointments today; can we cut to the chase?”
“Professor Hill is Alice’s uncle,” Nick said simply, a bit of his posture slumping. The professor just kept pilfering the wind from his sails today.
“Is he? I hadn’t expected that. I’m sure you can see why he’s remained quiet on the subject, then. Professor Hill is a professional and he wouldn’t want to raise the question of if he is giving his niece special treatment.”
“Makes total sense,” Nick agreed, slowly pulling himself out of his desk. “What makes significantly less sense is why Alice didn’t already know that. I mean, she was a Powered her whole life, it isn’t as if Professor Hill could have anticipated she’d go to Lander.”