“Get dressed,” I tell her. “I’m taking you home.”
Gwen
The ringing of a phone woke me up.
“Hey, cuz. Wanna go for breakfast?”
“Not hungry,” I said, hanging up.
A few seconds later, the phone rang again.
“I’ll be right there,” Joanne said.
“No.” Slam.
Ring. “Why are you so grumpy?”
“Why are you so obscenely cheerful?” I rubbed sleep out of my eyes and yawned.
“You know how Conrad kept calling me? Wanted to get back together? Well, I met him for pizza last night. I told him it’s really, really over.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So then he went into his I-can’t-live-without-you-Joanne routine. So I told him he’d have to because I won’t go out with a guy who tells me who I can and who I can’t talk to.”
“Uh, huh,” I obliged her by saying.
“And I told him I didn’t like the way he never talks about his feelings. Never opens up to me. So then he said he loved me.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. But I think he said that to get me back. So I walked out. I didn’t even wait for the pizza. I simply walked out. Cool, huh?”
“Cool,” I agreed. But there was something in her voice. It sounded too cheerful. Too forced.
“Yeah. So what’s done is done, right?” Her voice shook on right?
I groaned. “Joanne? Why don’t you call him? Give him another chance?”
“No way. He had lots of chances. Anyway, guess who I saw with Melissa?” She waited for me to respond. When I didn’t, she said, “Adrian.”
“I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” My voice sounded bitter, even to myself.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Joanne asked.
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll be over in ten,” she said.
I pulled the covers over my head. Exactly ten minutes later, Joanne yanked them off.
“Whoa, your hair! When did you dye it back?”
“Last night.”
“I like it,” Joanne said. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I didn’t think the red looked so good on you.”
“Now you tell me?”
She scrunched up her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just go away and let me sleep.”
I burrowed back into the covers. Joanne grabbed my arm and pulled. I fell to the floor with a loud thunk.
A bulldog, my cousin.
“Okay, you win,” I said, laughing. “Give me time to shower.”
I dressed in my baggy jeans and an old sweatshirt. I checked myself out in the mirror. The sweatshirt had a big mustard stain on the front. I looked like the poster child for low self-esteem.
I rummaged in my closet. I found my new jeans and pulled them on. Considered one of my new tops. Melissa-type tops, with low-cut necklines, short enough to show my midriff.
Forget that. I found a turtleneck, a creamy white knit. It fit snugly, showing off my best feature. Features.
“Wow!” said Joanne as I came downstairs. “You look hot. Hey, are those new glasses?”
“Yup. Went to the one-hour place at the mall last night. They’re some new kind of plastic. Lighter and thinner than my old ones.”
“What was wrong with the contacts?” Joanne asked.
“They weren’t me,” I said, shrugging.
I filled Joanne in as she drove us into town.
“Like wait,” Joanne said, turning to look at me. “You mean his eyes glowed? Like glowed glowed?”
“Yeah. Eyes on the road, Joanne,” I warned her. “His eyes, his whole body.”
I told her more, interspersing my story with the occasional, “eyes on the road, Joanne” and “hands on the wheel.” Joanne interrupted a dozen times to clarify a point or push for more details. We arrived at the Burger Barn in time for me to tell her the last part.
“You poured boiling oil over him?” Joanne asked, getting out of the car.
“No. I imagined it. He was reading my mind, Joanne. He lied to me all along. It was his own fault.”
“Yeah, but boiling oil? Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Joanne led the way into the Barn, ordered two Western omelet bagel breakfasts. We found a table at the back, one of the roughhewn oak tables the Barn was famous for, and sat down opposite each other on the wooden benches.
“So, then what happened?” she prompted.
I continued the story. About him grabbing me, throwing me down on the couch.
Joanne mashed a hash brown into her mouth. A small piece stuck to her lip. I reached across and brushed it off.
“So, you socked him with a fireball?” she asked.
“I guess. Some kind of energy ball,” I said.
“Whoa. Did you hurt him?”
“I don’t know. Sort of. Maybe. He deserved it, Joanne. The whole thing was a setup. The music, the candles. Everything. He brought me there for one purpose.”
“To make love to you,” Joanne said.
“To screw me,” I argued. “He thought having sex with me would increase his powers. He’s a psychic vampire. He’s been using me.”
“Really? I thought it went both ways.”
“What?”
“Your power has grown, too. First the dreams, now the visions. It’s mutual.”
“Mutual? If it’s so mutual, why did he prevent me from leaving? Why did he pin me down?”
“You were attacking him. He was protecting himself.”
“Why are you taking his side? Because you dumped Conrad? Is that it? Do you want Adrian? Well, you can have him.”
“It’d serve you right if I did go after him!” Joanne exploded.
“It’s what you’ve wanted all along,” I said.
“No. What I wanted, all along, was for you to be happy. But, oh, no, not you. What are you afraid of? Letting someone into that fortress you’ve built around yourself?”
“That’s better than you,” I retorted. “A new boyfriend every month. You’re as bad as Melissa.”
Joanne’s mouth dropped open. “How can you say that? I’ve never slept with any of them. It’s called dating. That’s what you’re supposed to do in high school, Gwen. Date. You know, like go out, have fun?” Her voice faltered and her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry, Joanne,” I said. “I didn’t mean it. It was a stupid thing to say.”
Her tears overflowed, landed in wet splotches on her half-eaten bagel. I dabbed at her face with a napkin.
“Look,” I said, “ever since Stone—”
“Gwen,” Joanne interrupted. She sounded worn out. “Let it go already. He apologized. He even asked you out. And you turned him down.”
“I don’t accept charity,” I said, bristling.
“What do you mean? Charity?”
“You think I didn’t find out? About you paying him? Twenty bucks to take out your loser cousin? How do you think that made me feel?”
“Paid him? Are you nuts? Who told you that?”
“Melissa.”
“And you believed her?” Joanne asked quietly. “You didn’t even come to me? You didn’t ask me if it was true?”
“Oh, Joanne…” She was right. I should have asked her. Should have trusted her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Water under the bridge. Uh, you finished eating?”
I’d only left a small bite of bagel. “I’m done. You going to finish yours?”
“Nah. I’m not hungry.” She threw away the rest of her breakfast and headed out of the restaurant.
I followed. “Joanne? I really am sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m not mad at you.”
But she wasn’t smiling, either. And when she came to a frozen chunk of snow in the middle of the path, she gave it a vicious kick, sending snow chunks flying in all directions.
MONDAY, JANUARY 27
Adrian
I’m sitting in E
nglish, surviving the icy blast of emotion that Gwen throws my way. She’s wearing a suede skirt, boots, and a brown turtleneck that matches her hair. She looks classy, like a sexy eyeglasses model. She catches me staring. She thinks, very clearly, you could have had me, but you blew it. Then she shuts me out of her mind. Recites the alphabet in French. Conjugates verbs, also in French. Sings Frère Jacques, every last verse.
Her stomach contracts with hunger. She had skipped breakfast. She’s punishing me. She remembers how I reacted the day she was suffering cramps from her period. Probably something I ate, I’d said. She’s put two and two together. Knows I was reading her mind. Figures if she’s hungry, there’s a good chance I’ll be hungry, too.
She’s sneaky and she’s smart. I have to admire that.
Meanwhile, her hunger gnaws at me. It’s like the guilt that gnaws at me, telling me something I don’t want to hear. Don’t want to think about.
English ends and I go to my other classes. When I’m not in the same room, the hunger lessens. But, it’s still there, like a burr in my brain.
Lunchtime arrives. I look around for a table. Can’t sit with Gwen. Can’t sit with Melissa. I find an open table near the entrance to the cafeteria. I watch Gwen nibble on a bowl of plain lettuce. I wolf down a tuna on rye, a protein bar, and an apple.
And I’m still hungry.
Jo walks by.
“Hey, Jo!” I say. “Have a seat.”
She glances over at Gwen, but sits down. I catch Gwen’s thoughts. Fine. Take him. See if I care.
So I was right. Jo likes me. Good. Time to go for what I wanted from the beginning.
Except Jo isn’t looking her usual friendly self. “How was your date with Melissa?” Don’t waste much time, do you?
I pour on the old charm, tilt my head, and smile. “You could have warned me.”
“Could have warned you? That Melissa’s the school bicycle?”
“The what?”
“Everyone gets a turn.” Joanne says, quite serious. “So did you?” Take a ride?
I lean toward her, close but not touching. Drop my voice into the seduction range like I’ve practiced. “Now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
Get real, she thinks. Drop the act.
That sets me back. She’s not buying it. Not for a second. I try changing the subject. “So, how was your date with Conrad?”
“I told him it’s over,” she says.
“So you’re free to go out with me tonight.”
Jo gives a mental laugh. You think you can have me that easy? Bomb out with Gwen, try to jump Melissa, then hit on me?
I try one last time. “C’mon, Jo. You like me. I like you. What’s the problem?”
“Gwen. She’s my cousin.” Jo shoves a forkful of fries into her mouth. A blob of gravy drips on her chin, but she doesn’t notice.
“Is it because of some story she told you about Friday night?” I tap into Jo’s mind, see images, bits of conversation. All damning. “Did she say I tried to force her to have sex with me? Is that what she said?”
“So did you?” Try to force her?
“No!” I slam my hand down on the table. Jo’s milkshake quivers. “If she said that, she’s a lying b—”
“Hey! Watch your mouth.” I’ve never seen Jo mad before, but I’m seeing it now. What is it with these two? They’re like she-lions, the way they protect each other.
I take a deep breath. I catch myself tapping my fingers. Stop. Then I give Jo my best little-boy smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Drop the act,” she snaps.
“Jo, what do you expect me to do? Go crawling back to her? Beg forgiveness? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You hurt her.” Jo gives me this level look, like she’s not backing down.
“The hurt went both ways, Jo,” I say, getting up to leave. “By the way, there’s gravy on your chin.”
Gwen
I should have trusted Joanne. But when she sat down with Adrian, it was as if she’d put rat poison in my salad. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Adrian’s body language was obvious. He was moving in on her. No surprises there.
My heart ached to remember Friday night and his arms around me. I’d lost him.
Ha! Who was I kidding? I’d never actually had him. The truth was he’d never desired me. I wasn’t a love interest. Not even a sex object. I was more of an electrical outlet. He wanted to plug in and recharge.
But I missed him. Not just the attention, or the flowers or the compliments. I missed talking, about music and books and movies. We’d started to open up to each other, to get to know each other.
What if there had been no Power? What if he and I had come together without it? I could imagine being with him. Maybe watching a movie and eating popcorn. Or sitting in front of the woodstove, drinking hot chocolate and talking.
Good one. Without The Power, he’d never have noticed me. My kind and his kind don’t mix.
I looked over to see Adrian slam his hand down on the table. They’re arguing? Adrian glanced at me. They’re arguing about me? He got up, stalked away.
Joanne was defending me?
I left for the newspaper, feeling ashamed for doubting my own cousin.
Doug was on the phone when I arrived. He handed me my assignment without skipping a beat. I gave him a thumbs-up and left.
I read it over in the car. Great. Cover the grand opening of a new gas station. I’d hoped, after Mr. Dean’s story, that Doug might give me something more challenging. I’d never get that summer internship with stupid assignments like this.
The grand opening of the gas station was a grand bore. There were balloons and banners and free coffee and doughnuts. Now, there’s front page news.
I did a short interview with the gas station manager, took a few photos, and wrote down the impressions of a few customers. “Nice clean bathrooms,” said one woman. “Twenty-four-hour convenience,” said her husband.
Yup, I’d probably win an award with this one. What I needed was a story. What I needed was another vision.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 28
Adrian
There’s a stone ledge that separates the hallway from the sunken cafeteria. I sit there, watching the action below. Two girls, probably freshmen, sit together at the other end of the ledge. They smile at me, whisper, giggle. Yeah, you wish, I think. I’m not that desperate.
Gwen reads a book. War and Peace. I touch her mind, but all I get is the image of a stone castle, high on a cliff, drawbridge pulled up. She looks up at me and gives me a small satisfied smile. She’s skipped breakfast again. She’s having a diet soda for lunch. And I’m starving, like a beggar at a banquet.
No. Like an addict craving his next fix.
I cast my mind around the room. Distraction, that’s what I need. The strongest emotions catch my attention first. Like that girl over there, talking to her friend. Her grandmother is in the hospital. Might not live. I block her thoughts. I don’t need to feel her pain. My father’s an idiot for not learning how to tune that out of his life.
There’s a guy halfway across the cafeteria. I don’t know his name. He’s almost pissing his pants with anxiety. Curious, I probe deeper. I see he’s the one supplying half the school with happy drugs, as Melissa calls them. Carrying a thousand bucks in the back pocket of his jeans. No wonder he’s nervous.
For one second, I’m tempted. I could wait for him after school. Call him out. Demand the money. It’s drug money. He doesn’t have the right to keep it. Yeah, right, and the next day I’d find six or seven of his friends waiting to beat me up. Not a great idea.
I’m so hungry. And I want a smoke. Well, why not? Just one pack. Take the edge off the hunger. I head to town, and go into a variety store. The guy at the register looks like a high school dropout.
“You legal?” He scratches at a zit on his face. It starts to bleed.
“Yes,” I lie.
“Need to see some ID,” he says, grabbing a tissue and pressing it to his
face.
“Left it at home.”
“Can’t sell you nothin’ then.”
I stare into his eyes. I draw on The Power, drop my voice down, slow and even. “I won’t tell and you won’t tell. Anyone asks, you checked my card.”
“Yeah,” he says, looking bored. “Whatever.”
He hands over the package. I smoke one before getting in my car. The buzz hits me in seconds. Guess that’s what a year of abstinence does to you. I’m still feeling the nicotine rush when I return to school and go to Psychology. We’re no more than ten minutes into the class before Gwen has a vision.
A van will crash through the ice. McCallum Point. Because he turns off the ice road. Thinks the ice is safe.
Ice road?
Gwen looks over at me. Well?
Well, what? I pass her a piece of paper. NOT MY PROBLEM.
Fine, she thinks at me. I’ll go myself.
As soon as she thinks that, she gets a new vision.
It’s her, running out, trying to warn the van. The ice cracks. The van sinks, taking Gwen with it.
My hand shakes as I write another note. YOU WIN.
She looks as smug as Cleo bringing a dead bird to the door.
“Ahem.” That’s Mrs. Janzen, our teacher.
“May I see you outside, please?” She’s Canadian-polite but ice-cube cold. We follow her into the hallway.
“You know the rules in my classroom,” Mrs. Janzen says. “Flirt on your own time.”
Gwen opens her mouth to argue, closes it when she sees the expression on Mrs. Janzen’s face.
“I’m knocking your participation grades to zero,” she continues.
Gwen’s mental expression of dismay hits me hard. She actually cares about participation points. So, I move in close to Mrs. Janzen, look into her eyes, pitch my voice hypnotically low. I draw on The Power. “Mrs. Janzen, you don’t want to do that.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t want to do that,” I repeat, using the voice. “Gwen is your best student. She didn’t disrupt the class.”
“Perhaps disrupt is the wrong term, but—”
“Gwen is your best student,” I repeat. I hold her in my gaze. Don’t let her look away. Beside me, Gwen gasps. I motion for her to be still.
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