by C. C. Lynch
“I am so glad you are in study with me!” I gave her another quick squeeze before pulling away.
“Me too,” she smiled calmly, “but first I need to take care of something.” A look of determination came across her face momentarily before an angelic pout replaced it. “Mrs. Anderson,” she raised her hand.
Unenthused cold eyes scanned the room slowly until they fell on Steph. “Yes, what is your inquiry Ms. Fields?”
“I can see at least five other students in this class that are in physics. That just so happens to be my friend Abrielle’s specialty. I feel that if the other students agree, it would be enormously beneficial if we were able to reserve a spot in the library to dedicate to her tutoring us.”
The teacher’s stony face never faltered and I thought for sure that she was going to decline her request. History is about to be made, I thought to myself, someone is actually going to say no to Steph Fields. Instead Mrs. Anderson replied, “For today you can just put the desks together. I’ll talk to the principal about allowing you a table in the library.”
With that, social hour commenced.
2
The next day Mrs. Anderson told us that the principal had approved a library study session under the stipulation that a volunteer teacher was to look over said session. Steph’s lips twisted into a smile knowing that she had effectively granted a group of our friends a free spot in the library to gossip for a majority of the week.
Mrs. Anderson adjusted her pale yellow business suit and then pointed her nose towards the door just in time for another teacher to enter the room. “Please remember to thank Mr. Murphy for volunteering to overlook your library sessions.”
I could feel eyes bearing into me from my side again and I realized I had forgotten to ask Samantha what was wrong the day before. Drawing in a breath, I began to take the wall down so I could figure out what she needed to tell me. Closing my eyes, I imagined the psychic wall I built flowing down gently like a curtain then I focused my attention on Samantha and I heard her say one word: dangerous. I shuddered at what she could have possibly seen to be so adamant about this warning.
What is the matter? I asked her and all I received in return was that word “dangerous” yet again. I was getting frustrated trying to figure out how Mr. Murphy was threatening. As my frustration began to build I heard the man in question mutter something about Stephanie being my best friend.
“Her name is Steph, not Stephanie. On her birth certificate is says Steph.” I was irritated but remained polite as possible. The class went silent. Looking around I realized that he had never said it out loud. The edges of his lips twitched into a strange and accomplished smile. Thanks to my telepathy I had made myself look insane in front of the entire class aside from Samantha.
Steph muttered a “huh?” before I said, “Oh, I thought I heard someone say Stephanie and you know how I love to correct people.” She looked at me quizzically then shrugged.
I looked back to Samantha who was staring at her desk in a hard concentration. Mr. Murphy was watching me with a satisfied grin that sent a chill down my spine. With my wall still down I tried to connect to him somehow and see if he was like me, but there was no buzzing sound like I typically heard from other telepaths.
I shook my head from the paranoia then rubbed my temples to rid myself of my irritation. He probably enjoyed the fact that I had embarrassed myself like that. Mr. Murphy was a new teacher and so far he did not seem to enjoy his work nor did he seem particularly fond of students. Until I found out what bothered Samantha about him, I decided I would keep my wall down.
When the teachers were occupied I wrote her a note. What did you see? I studied her closely as she responded to my question. She was wearing her typical outfit consisting of black jeans, black boots, a crimson bohemian shirt, and a bronze amulet dangling from her long slender neck. Long blonde hair was as usual, worn down and stuck to her back like it was glued in place. My eyes twitched as I studied the dark circles that hugged the bottom of her turquoise eyes. She was normally happy, not exuberant, but happy. Whatever she had seen bothered her enough to cause her face to wear the worry.
A few minutes later scribbled underneath my question read four words that made my stomach drop and limbs shake: I saw you die. The room felt like a vacuum, I could hardly breathe. Death was Samantha’s specialty. It was something she abhorred, but her abilities were uncanny.
Once I realized I was staring I swallowed the dry lump that had formed in my throat and searched for an explanation for my awkward gawking. “Samantha,” I stretched back nonchalantly to hide my discomfort, “I ripped my favorite shirt last week. Is there any way I can bring it over to your house to get it repaired? I’ll pay you.”
“Yeah,” she was emotionless. “My grandmother will be home. If I can’t fix it, then she can.”
“Hello,” I spoke politely to Samantha’s grandmother. The humming vibration of telepathy was palpable and I was overwhelmed by the strength of her powers. I felt like I was in the presence of a queen. “I’m here to see Samantha.”
Her wrinkled face formed a gentle and wise smile as she ushered me into the house. I smiled back with adoration. Though age brings devastation, I find unequivocal beauty in it and I found myself envious of the wisdom that gleamed through those amiable eyes.
Her flat palm slid gracefully from her diaphragm then towards the stairs directing me to Samantha’s room. “The first room on the left,” she nodded graciously then walked back to the kitchen where an amazing and unique aroma was emanating.
Delicately, I slid my hand along the thick wooden railing as I ascended slowly up the stairs. I could feel eyes upon my back, however Samantha’s grandmother was nowhere in sight. When I entered Samantha’s room I was completely taken aback by the contents. Though I had expected to see a library with a bed and an altar, her lavender walls were covered in posters of handsome models and artists. Aside from one small section it was just like any other teenager’s room filled with posters and knickknacks.
In the corner of her room by a window was a single shelf dedicated to a snow globe. Inside the globe was a barren tree with two ravens perched on a limb. Light danced in the globe in such a way that the birds almost appeared to be moving.
“How long has your wall been up?” I turned to see Samantha walk in, her nose deep in a novel.
Embarrassed, I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “I’ve kept it up for a while. It was getting too difficult feeling everything everyone else was feeling.”
“Why not just put a wall up against the empathy?” She seemed annoyed.
I shrugged, “I don’t know how. It seems like it is all or nothing with me. I wish I had some way of practicing.”
Samantha arched an eyebrow. “You really just need to accept your gift and it will become a lot easier for you.”
She was right. Sighing at her truth I decided to get to the point of my visit. “Samantha, what exactly did you see?”
The book was placed gently on her nightstand and she took a seat on the edge of her bed. Her lips pursed as if she was contemplating something and then she finally took out a small pocket notebook. “Have you noticed there are a bunch of new teachers this year?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged thinking about how often new teachers came to our high school. It was nothing out of the ordinary. “Mr. Murphy, Mrs. Anderson, and Mr. Brown, right?”
“There are three more as well, all with equally as unimaginative names.” She put the pocket notebook flat on the bed and pushed it aside. My eyes were drawn to her stick strait blonde hair that never seemed to shift no matter how much movement she made. “I was suspicious when I saw the new lot of teachers here and more so when I got a vision of Mr. Murphy trying to kill you. You ran through a door, it was strange,” she searched her mind for the right words, “like it was just a door on a ledge or something. Anyway you were trapped and couldn’t escape him. He threw you from the ledge.”
“Why?” I was flabbergasted that anyone would ever want
to harm me.
“I don’t know, but you should start keeping that wall down so you can read people. It might be the only thing to save your life.”
I nodded and stared at the snow globe again. Without lifting my eyes from the object I asked if she had noticed his reaction when I mentioned Steph’s name. Though it had been more of an observation than a question she agreed he had acted strangely and hypothesized that he must know about my telepathic abilities and perhaps it was part of the reason he pushed me in her vision. After her statement she quickly told me I needed to leave and ushered me out of the house. Her grandmother nodded her head in a polite goodbye and Samantha rushed me though the foyer.
I shouted a “nice to meet you,” seconds before Samantha slammed the door behind me.
Her curt goodbye only solidified the sense of dread that filled my chest as I walked to my car. My mind raced trying to picture the door Samantha described as I fumbled about for my keys. I had never seen a door that led to a ledge, not even the one on the school roof matched the description.
Before getting into the car I started to assess if there was anyone following me. My senses were heightened and the crackle of a leaf blowing along the sidewalk made me jump and in the process my car keys fell from my hand.
Quickly I picked the keys up and scanned my surroundings once more.
“And the paranoia begins,” I muttered as I plopped into the front seat of my small sedan.
3
“Hi mom,” I shouted as I walked through the door.
As I listened for a response a glut of emotions began to trickle in. Quickly I put my wall back up and made a mental note to try and let the wall down when I left the house and put it back up when I returned. My mother’s emotions ran high, too high for an empath like me to deal with.
“How was school? Why are you late?” Her questions came in an abrupt tandem. She wrung her hands in a towel as she came into the foyer to watch me kick my shoes off.
“Remember, I have clubs Monday through Friday. I have math club, honor society, robotics, year book, and future philanthropists, respectively.” I counted the clubs on my fingers. Looking up while I counted helped me to hide my lie.
I did have clubs every day, but they would not start for another two weeks. She would not have cared if I had gone to Samantha’s but explaining what I was doing there would have been a bigger lie than just saying I had gone to one of my afterschool activities.
She ignored what I said and went back in the kitchen only to yell from the other room. “So, how was your day?”
“It was productive.” I followed on her heels. “I tutored Mrs. Gambale’s kid today and turned in essays to six different scholarships.”
“Susan’s child?” She hated when people called humans “kids.”
“Yes, Susan’s daughter.” I spoke eloquently and with a fake accent.
“You left your dirty napkin on the table today. You’re seventeen and I am not your maid. Clean the table and do your homework. Dinner will be ready at 7:15.” Wrinkles rose between her brows from her scowl.
“Okay, mother,” I smiled sweetly.
“The term ‘mother’ is for women who beat their children, I do not beat you.” With that she left the kitchen and went to the living room to watch television.
“I love you,” I sang as I walked up the stairs to my room.
When I got up to my bedroom Nicholas was sitting on my bed with a finger to his mouth signaling for me to be quiet. I rolled me eyes and tip-toed across my room. I could not figure out how he was able to open my bedroom window but I sighed in relief because it felt so nice having a friend that I could hug after finding out a telepath had seen my imminent death.
“I don’t know how you got in, but I am so happy you are here,” I smiled hugging him before gracefully falling on my back and looking up to the plastic glowing stars on my ceiling.
He followed my gaze then glanced back at me in adoration. “I’m here for an entirely selfish purpose.”
“What’s that?” I pushed myself up onto my elbows.
“I need someone to go to a concert with me tonight.” Silence fell as he looked around the room before adding, “Steph bailed.”
“Talk about second choice,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I did not blame him for not asking me before since I was typically too involved with homework to do anything once the school year began. My schedule was so light now that I actually had the freedom to hang out with him. Shrugging, I smiled, “yeah, I’d love to.”
“Cool, meet me at the corner at seven and I’ll take you. I know your mom would never let you go out on a school night so tell her you’re going to Steph’s, or the library, or some genius convention.” He waived his hands in the air as if he was doing magic while coming up with silly excuses.
“I’m not a genius,” I chuckled, playfully sending an elbow to his shoulder. “The Steph excuse will work fine.”
“See you soon Abbs,” he said before rustling my hair and jumping out the window.
“Abbs?” I laughed after him, “Abrielle, never Abbs.” I rolled my eyes at his strangeness and watched to see him land gracefully outside my window.
Our trio was exclusively anti-nicknames and the fact he just gave me one did not sit right with me. I shrugged and pushed the feeling aside. Perhaps the pet name and climbing in the window was a strange teenage boy phase.
When I told my mother I would be going over Steph’s she put up a fuss because she had already began cooking dinner. Eventually she ended her own argument by saying “fine, I guess I will have lunch for tomorrow. Go have fun at Steph’s and call me if you’re going to stay there for the night.”
When I got to Steph’s her mother embraced me in a warm hug before ushering me to her daughter’s room. Steph was on her bed painting her toenails a glossy cherry red. “Hey love,” she smiled tossing her hair over her right shoulder. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I came to trade.” I grinned, pulling out a paper bag filled with fresh fudge.
Her eyes grew big with anticipation and she inched closer to me. “You have my attention.”
“I need to borrow an outfit for tonight. Something that says I’m at a rock concert and I’m hot but not easy.”
“Oh. My. Gosh! You know that giving you a makeover is a dream come true. You don’t ever need to give me fudge for that.” Delicately she took the bag from my hands, “but I am grateful nonetheless.” She jumped up and began rummaging through her closet pulling out random clothing articles and tossing them on the bed. Once she accumulated enough for four choice outfits she pulled out a pair of sandals and a pair of heels.
I grabbed a pair of jeans, a tank top, a leather jacket, and the heels and began changing. Once I was dressed she nodded her head in approval and grabbed her makeup bag.
“You have been here for like twenty minutes and haven’t told me who you’re going on a date with yet. Do I need to stab you in the eye with mascara to find out?” Her eyes gleamed with anticipation and excitement.
“It’s not a date, it’s just Nicholas.” I rolled my eyes.
She froze for a brief second, almost too quick for me to take notice before she continued. “Where is my ticket?” I could hear a hint of jealousy in her voice.
“He asked you,” my brows furrowed, “he said you blew him off.”
Just as I said the words I felt how ridiculous they sounded. Steph had never learned how to say no to anything. I began to realize how strange the entire situation was. Nicholas had snuck into my bedroom to ask me to go to a concert instead of calling or knocking on the door and he hadn’t invited Steph. He had given me a nickname and told me to meet him at the corner of my street rather than his house or Steph’s like usual.
I slammed my palm into my forehead as soon as I remembered that my wall had been up. There were two possibilities to what had happened. Either Nicholas was going through some really strange phase or someone had come into my room looking like him. I had never known anyone to be ab
le to look like another person but I was sure that a strong enough telepath could alter what another person was experiencing. My heart started racing at the possibility that this could have something to do with what Samantha warned me about. Steph was staring at me, most likely trying to figure out why I slammed my head.
Lie. “I just realized, that I had answered the phone while I was studying and I never even looked at who had called. I just assumed it was Nicholas because no one else ever calls me.”
Steph began jumping up and down with excitement. “You have a date!” She yelled and danced around her room. “Oh my gosh! I want to know who it was! I bet it was Steve. No wait, it could have been Matt, he sounds just like Nicholas.” She was dancing around her room, eyeliner still in her hand.
“Jeez Steph, it’s not like I’ve never been on a date before. You make it seem like I was the ugly duckling that just transformed into a mediocre swan.”
“No,” she laughed grabbing my hands, “it’s the anonymity of it all. A mysterious phone call, a date to a concert,” she stopped midsentence and wrinkled her nose. “Wait, he said I already told him no?”
“Oh,” I searched quickly for another explanation, “I asked if you were going to be there and he said no, I guess I just assumed.”
“Anyway,” she waved it off, “the unknown admirer, taking my best friend on a date.” She looked me over in her outfit, “what are you wearing for underwear?”
“Black cheekies,” I blushed.
“Hot mama,” she slapped my rear before continuing to finish my makeup.
4
I stood at the corner of my street promptly at seven waiting for whatever may be in store. Standing there in high heels and a full face of makeup made me feel too noticeable, like I could actually be in the spotlight for once in my life. I enjoyed being hidden and having Steph get all the attention. I sucked down my discomfort for my appearance and focused on the unknown that lay ahead that evening.