“Um, I think I’ll go for some pizza. Is it any good?” I asked hopefully. I’m a pizza junkie.
“It’s basically your average frozen pizza. Not bad, not great. I’ll join you.” She led the way through the crowd of chattering teenagers, ignoring the curious looks we were garnering. Once we had fought our way through the line and turned in our lunch tickets, she led me straight to a table near one of the ceiling to floor windows that looked out on a copse of trees and the football field beyond.
“Liz, this is Eli, Missy, Chasisity, Danny, and Jennifer. Guys, Liz just moved here from Vermont. She was in Mr. Tesh and Mrs. Acker’s classes with me.”
I raised my eyebrows at the name “Chasisity,” but let it pass. I waved hello to the seated group as they murmured greetings. Eli and Danny eyed me with masculine interest while the girls gave me identical looks of appraisal and wariness masked by superficial smiles. I took my seat and nibbled on my pizza, not feeling remotely hungry and tried to think of a good reason to get up early and find somewhere to be alone. After a few awkward beats, the group resumed their conversation, which seemed to be centered on the upcoming football game, and pretty much ignored me. V.J. did her best to include me, but I was happy to relax in the relative quiet, keeping my eyes down and my responses to a minimum.
“There you are. I was looking for you. I thought I was bringing you to lunch.” Preston’s tone was accusing as he stood behind me clutching a tray of greasy looking food. I sighed and gave him an apologetic smile.
“Oh, Preston! I’m sorry! I just thought she might like to sit with us. I didn’t know you were showing her around.” V.J. blushed up at Preston and looked disconcerted. Preston barely acknowledged her and sat in the empty seat next to me.
“Well, when you’re through, I’ll give you a quick tour and then we can hit your locker before English.” I pressed my lips together in frustration at his presumption. I don’t like being told what to do, and I really hate being treated like a child, particularly when I know more about almost every subject than most people could ever dream of.
“Actually, I think I can find my way. I’m doing pretty well so far,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light. He was way too pushy. I turned back to V.J. and struck up a conversation, desperate to divert Preston’s attention away from me.
“So, what does V.J. stand for?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Victoria Jocasta.” I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, I know it’s weird. But there are already about ten girls named Vicky in Pound, so I wanted something different.” She shrugged and took a bite of pizza, looking thoughtful. “I wish I had a normal name like Liz.”
“It’s a really pretty name At least it’s unique. You know how many Elizabeths I’ve met?”
She glanced up at me, surprised. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”
From there we carried on a discussion about weird names we’ve heard and how we would change our own. In spite of myself, I was enjoying her quick humor and guileless manner. Wondering what exactly she was doing with three obvious ‘frienemies’ like Chasisity, Jennifer, and Missy, I found myself wishing just this once I could break my rule and become friends with her, as she so obviously wanted.
We finished eating and Preston was back to giving me his confident smile and friendly chatter. I guessed the absence of his rival had suppressed his possessive nature for the time being, so I was ready to let him show me to my locker. I had no idea where it was.
As I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder, I was diverted by V.J.’s thoughtful expression. After a moment, she seemed to come to some decision and stood with me.
“Liz, I was wondering if you’d like to have a tour of the town. I mean, there’s not that much to see, but if you haven’t had a chance to explore yet, I could show you around.” V.J. looked poised for rejection, and I felt the usual negative response on the tip of my tongue, but something made me pause.
Why couldn’t I, just this once, have a friend? As long as I was careful and kept her at a distance, maybe I wouldn’t have to spend every evening home alone with other people’s thoughts. With a sense of recklessness, I agreed.
“Yeah, that’d be great! I still have some unpacking to do tonight, but starting tomorrow I should be free.”
Her whole face shone with eager amiability. I got the feeling V.J. was the odd man out in her group of friends and she was just as desperate as me to make a connection. We made plans to meet after school the next day and said a cheerful goodbye as I traipsed along after Preston. I barely registered his running commentary on the different social groups represented at each table we passed, and my attention was only drawn when I heard him give an irritated sigh and halt our progress.
We had just reached the end of the cafeteria and were ready to enter the maze of hallways again but were blocked by a heated argument between two guys. One of them, a burly, gorilla-like boy was shouting loudly about ‘getting paid’ and swinging his arms around threateningly. Preston rolled his eyes and gestured for me to follow him as he squeezed through the watching crowd behind them. I complied and had almost made it past the group when all hell broke loose.
Chapter 2
The gorilla-looking guy must have said something to infuriate the other because he, a tall, ungainly boy with a buzz cut, launched himself at his opponent, knocking him backwards and into me. He crashed to the ground taking me with him. In the ensuing skirmish he grabbed a section of my shirt and the fabric ripped, leaving a giant hole along my arm. Gorilla Boy hauled himself off of me without ever seeming to register the fact that he had knocked an innocent bystander over, and swung his massive fist at his attacker. Dazed, it took me a moment to get my bearings and try to get up.
“Jeez, Liz, are you ok?” Carey’s rich voice penetrated the clamor of cheering students and before I could stop him he took me by the arm, his hand clamped on the exposed skin through my torn shirt, and lifted me onto my feet in one swift motion. My body went rigid with the skin-to-skin contact I so carefully avoid and my mind flew open and let Carey in.
I was bombarded with names, scenes of thwarted crimes, an aborted murder, faces of grateful people, disapproving parents, a lifetime of loneliness and isolation; everything that made Carey who he was.
After a few seconds, I was released from the usual shock and my eyes cleared. Carey was looking at me with a stunned expression on his face and I wondered what he had seen.
‘What the hell was that? It felt like she was inside my mind…her eyes…they’re so strange. Don’t let her see you’re freaked out, don’t let her know…’
Automatically I closed the connection between our minds, turning off his thoughts and freeing up my own. I stared at Carey, unbelieving, trying to think of a logical explanation for what I had seen in his mind. Unfortunately, I was so distracted by the new bank of information that I failed to see the arm flying toward me as one of the forgotten brawlers missed his mark and an elbow struck the side of my face with enough force to knock me back to the floor.
Suddenly there was the sound of a grunt and then a collision, followed by a lot of swearing. I put my head between my knees, trying to drown out the yelling and cheering from the crowd and hoping to diminish some of the sick dizziness I felt from the blow to my head. After a moment, things were quieter and I could hear the voices of teachers demanding to know what had happened. I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone was asking me if I was alright. Sighing, I swallowed an urge to hurl and lifted my head.
For a moment I had eyes for no one but Carey. This was probably due to the fact that he was holding Gorilla Boy up against the wall with one hand and clutching the shirt of the tall, gangly assailant in the other. Two teachers were standing with him, getting his version of events, apparently unconcerned by the odd fact that he was singlehandedly restraining the two struggling combatants. Shank High was a weird place.
“Can you understand me? Are you alright?” I finally tuned into reality and looked at the tall, excruciatingly thin man crouched
at my side. As my eyes pulled into focus I noted the thick white hair styled carefully close to his head, a strong, determined jaw, and dull brown eyes nearly buried underneath bushy gray eyebrows.
“Yeah…yeah I think so. I got hit in the head,” I said, my voice registering surprise. I’d had a lot of strange first days at new schools, but this one was definitely topping the list.
“I think we’d better get you to the nurse and make sure you don’t have a concussion. The other students told me you were just trying to walk by and you were knocked down and then struck by Ed here. Is that right?” he asked, gesturing at the scowling gorilla still mashed up against the wall by Carey’s hand. I nodded and put my hand to my aching head. I was going to have a bruise the next day for sure; my left temple was throbbing and the skin around my eye felt tender.
“Ok, Carey I think you can let these two go. We’ll be calling the police on this one.” There was a sudden outbreak of protests from the prisoners as the man next to me rose to his feet, practically reeking with authority. “Now, you two be quiet. This is third fight you’ve had this month, and you hit this poor young lady here. She has the right to charge you with assault and battery.” I paled at that. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to the police.
Seriously, what a red letter day.
“No, sir, please. I don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine. Maybe just an ice pack.” I pleaded, appalled at the thought that I would be on law enforcement radar my first day.
Everyone looked at me for a moment and I felt the distinct urge to bury my head between my knees again. Finally the white-haired guy nodded and told the other teachers to escort the culprits to his office. By now I had deduced that this man was the principal. I cursed silently. My hopes of blending in and becoming invisible at Shank High were swiftly going down the drain.
“Carey, will you escort Miss Hannigan to the nurse? I’ve got to go deal with this,” the principal said, gesturing absently at the dispersing crowd.
“Sure thing, Mr. Paulson.” Carey held his hand out to me easily enough, but I caught the wariness behind his eyes. I pushed myself to my feet without aid and stood swaying a moment as my head gave a pang at the change in position.
“Thanks for helping out again, Carey. I tell you, I don’t know what we’re going to do around here when you graduate.” Mr. Paulson clapped Carey on the shoulder and turned to me. “Miss Hannigan, I hope you feel better. If you change your mind about pressing charges let me know. If you end up having to go to the doctor, you may want to think about it.” I nodded agreement just to get him off my back. “Very well. I hope this doesn’t ruin your first day with us. Come see me if you need anything.” Finally, he spun on his heel and stalked down the hall to the main offices. Carey and I were left in the emptied hall staring awkwardly at one another.
I was at a loss for words. The things I had seen in his memories left me confused and a little frightened. I was concentrating very hard on keeping the link between our minds closed, hoping I could write the whole thing off and avoid him from now on, no matter how gorgeous and charming and enigmatic he was.
With a little shake, Carey seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts and he gave me a knee-wobbling smile. “Can I take your arm? To help you keep steady?” he asked politely, extending his arm to me again.
I shook my head and winced. After another wave of nausea I replied, “No, that’s ok. I can make it. Which way to the office?” He pointed to our right. “Ok, well, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to keep you.” I started on my way, using the wall for support.
“I think I’d better make sure you get there alive.” Carey strode at my side, not touching me but holding himself ready to catch me if I stumbled. I focused extra hard on putting one foot in front of the other.
We walked in silence, though I could feel his eyes on me and knew he was pondering that startling moment when I downloaded his mind. It was strange; no one had ever noticed me in their head before and I was more than a little freaked out by it. As we walked I was constructing arguments for leaving Pound as soon as possible to present to my Dad that night. I had known coming to such a small town was a bad idea, but he had insisted it would work, that it would be easier to hide. After today, I wasn’t so sure.
“You look like you’re thinking very hard about something.” I glanced up to meet Carey’s interested look. I shrugged.
“Just wondering how to explain all this to my Dad,” I answered truthfully. He didn’t need to know what I wanted to explain.
“Well, I mean, it’s not like you were in the fight or anything.” He gave me an amused look. I waved my hand dismissively.
“No, not that. He’s just very…protective of me. He will take this very seriously.” Carey nodded his dark, shining head. A smile creased his face and his eyes flashed playfully.
“Well, you can tell him you’ve got yourself a bodyguard.” He winked, and despite the corniness, I felt a smile tug at my lips. Whatever I had downloaded from him could just stay filed away for now. He had clearly dismissed the moment our minds connected as a fluke and I thought I could safely stay in his company. After all, the brief flashes I had examined told me that he was a singularly selfless person, not likely to do me any harm.
“Well, that should ease his mind considerably.” The corners of my mouth lifted and I felt almost normal with this boy.
“Here we are. Prepare yourself. Nurse Nora is a little…different.” I had just enough time to raise my eyebrows before a white door with the label ‘Nurse Nora’ on it swung open.
“Oh, Carey, honey, is this her? You poor thing, getting knocked down in a fight on your first day here. What will you think of us?” a soft twang demanded.
My eyebrows rose as high as they could get as I took in this small-town school nurse. She was short, probably no more than five feet, and her hair was almost as long. It swung around her waist like a white satin curtain. She was easily in her sixties, possibly early seventies, and her skin was thin as rice paper and covered in fine wrinkles. She had blunt Appalachian features made friendly by an abundance of laugh lines, and her hazy blue eyes surveyed me with kind concern. She was wearing orange lipstick and a knee-length baby doll dress with Doc Martens.
“Uh…” I said brilliantly. She ushered me over to her examining table and I took in the room around me. Unlike most nurses’ offices I’d seen, in this one there were no cheesy posters encouraging students to brush their teeth or wash their hands, no “Abstinence First” signs with cheerful teens chastely holding hands, no advertisements warning against the dangers of smoking. Instead, the room was painted a calming blue and resembled the interior of a Cape Cod cottage with white trimming and nautical accents. I shrugged and sat on the edge of the table. What had I expected? Shank High was clearly different from any other school I’d attended.
“Ok, sweetie, let me get a look at you.” Nurse Nora peered into my eyes and then flashed a light at me, checking to make sure I didn’t have head trauma. “Hmm. Well, your pupils are moving a little slow, but I don’t think you’re concussed.”
“I’m fine, really. Can I go to class now?” I asked haltingly, willing my eyes to look normal.
She watched me for a moment and I quailed under her sharp-eyed gaze. I had a strange feeling that Nurse Nora could see more than she should. Finally, she nodded and gave me a smile.
“Carey, run down to the cafeteria and get one of the cooks to give you an ice pack out of the freezer, please.” Carey agreed and with another bright smile in my direction he took off, leaving me alone with Nurse Nora’s quizzical stare. I looked up, down, and all around trying to avoid her eyes; I knew somehow that she was willing me to make eye contact.
“Alright, honey. Relax. I’ll stop trying to read you.” I glanced up involuntarily and then dropped my eyes again. She was watching me with an amused smile. “I know you don’t want to be touched, so I need you to tell me if you’re hurting anywhere else.”
I drew in my breath with a little jolt of surprise and
met her gaze.
“What do you mean, you know I don’t want to be touched?” I demanded, my voice terse with anxiety. She gave me a toothy grin and went over to a cabinet with labeled drawers.
“Nothing, honey. Just that you’ve got a pretty big ‘personal space’ vibe going on. I try not to violate people’s boundaries,” she replied casually as she opened a drawer and rummaged around. Making a little noise of triumph, she extracted two little plastic packages of Tylenol and came back to me, holding them out for me to take. “Here, take two of these now, and then take the rest when you go to bed. You’ll be ok, though you’ll have a bruise.”
I took the pills and watched warily as she opened a cabinet door and extracted a small bottle with clear liquid in it.
“This is Witch Hazel. Take it home with you and put some on tonight before you go to bed. It’ll help with the bruising.” She dabbed some on the side of my face, careful to only touch me with the cotton ball.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, still trying to figure this woman out. Of course, all I had to do was reach out and touch her with an ungloved hand to know all her secrets, but I had avoided doing so for such a long time that it was only a fleeting thought. “Is there a bathroom?”She pointed to a door on the left side of the office and I swiftly crossed the room and closed the door behind me, thankful to escape being alone with her any longer.
I used the facilities and then washed my hands, taking the time to splash my face with cold water and examine my swiftly swelling face. I sighed, wishing not for the first time that I could be more average looking, more forgettable. Instead I was blessed, or cursed, with my mother’s exotic looks. While my father was a tall, skinny redhead with pasty white skin and a slightly overlarge nose, my mother had been beautiful. Like her, I had long, straight dark brown hair, almost black, and olive skin inherited from a Mediterranean grandmother that women spend countless hours and dollars in tanning beds trying to attain. My eyes were my father’s, a moss-colored green that stood out underneath thick lashes no one ever believed were natural. I was tall, around five foot ten, and slim and muscular from years of martial arts training. All in all, I was someone that usually got a second look and, in my position, that was the worst thing to have happen.
At First Touch Page 3