by J. P. Grider
“Finding what out?” Shelby’s impatient with this whole subject, and I don’t blame her.
“She is what we call an empath. She and I both are.”
Shelby’s head shakes in confusion. “An empath?”
“We feel other people’s pain.” Ethan explained. “And if we touch that person, we actually absorb it and take it away from them. If we touch them long enough and focus on their pain, we can take it all away…for good…like Honor did for you.”
A couple of tears escape Shelby’s eyes.
“It’s a painful process,” Ethan continues, his face tight and unexpressive, “for us. And it doesn’t come without dire consequences. I begged Honor not to do it.” His tone is unyielding; he will not find compassion for Shelby, though he should be naturally feeling it for her.
Shelby’s wide eyes signal her shock at Ethan’s honesty.
It doesn’t faze Ethan. “By saving your life, she began digging an early grave for herself.”
“Ethan.” I snap. He does not need to tell her that.
“What does that mean?” Shelby asks, clearly confused by Ethan’s resentment.
“It means…for every life she saves…or every person she heals, her years are cut drastically. Most empaths who focus on healing others die shortly after their teenage years…so yeah, you’re here,” Ethan snarls. “But in a few years, Honor may not be.”
“Ethan.” I sigh.
“Sorry, Honor. She needs to know what you sacrificed for her…your personal bully.”
“Ethan, stop.” I cry.
“No, Honor. He’s right.” Shelby interrupts. “I was a bully to you, but I promise, I will never mistreat you again.” She steps off her stool and hugs me. “You are such a special person to have done that for me…I owe you my life. I hope you can forgive me…” She pulls away and sits back down. “And be my friend…I need more people like you in my life.”
“So every time you get hurt or sick she can make it all go away.” Ethan scoffs.
Now it’s getting too much. Why on earth won’t Ethan stop?
“No, Ethan.” Shelby responds in a calm voice while she looks him in the eye. “So I can learn to be a better person.” Shelby turns toward me. “You were never the freak, Honor. I was.”
An involuntary chuckle slips out from somewhere inside me. “Well…no…I am a freak. I’m the one who’s not so normal anymore.”
Shelby laughs and I suddenly feel a new type of bond form between us.
“Yeah,” she says. “I guess you’re right…but you’re a nice freak.”
“Don’t hurt her again, Shelby,” a weary Ethan warns. “ And please do not share this secret. It’d be detrimental to all of us…especially Honor.”
Right away Shelby promises, “Of course. I promise. I’ll never tell. And Honor, thank you so much…again.”
“You’re welcome. Do you like Scrabble?”
“Scrabble?” Ethan and Shelby answer in unison.
“Yeah, there are four of us. Wanna play?”
“Okay,” a jubilant Shelby answers, while a resigned Ethan groans, “Again?”
We all laugh and go in the living room by Hunter, who is watching a taped episode of Switched at Birth.
“Did you turn into a girl while living with Uncle Tom?” Ethan mocks Hunter. “Since when did you start watching chick flicks?”
“Don’t mock it; the chicks in it are hot.”
Ethan just shakes his head and sets up the Scrabble game.
Scrabble is interesting with Ethan and Hunter. Their use of the English language is colorful to the say the least. It feels good to laugh the way the four of us do. It’s comforting…and I’m feeling good about my decision to help Shelby recover from her cancer. Unlike Ethan, I can’t just let someone suffer, knowing I can cure them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lunch period the next day is interesting. Shelby walks in the cafeteria with her clique. As expected, energy is high. With Jefferson High School’s most popular cheerleader returned and in good health, the cheers and well-wishes are loud and spirited. Shelby looks genuinely touched. What’s interesting is - after Shelby gets her lunch, she carries her lunch tray to my table and sits down. The dropped jaws and surprised expressions are comical. When Shelby’s one sidekick finally closes her mouth, what comes out is an expletive towards me.
“Honor’s my friend now. If you don’t like it, leave.” Shelby tells her entourage.
“Uggh,” says cheerleader number two. Shelby is, of course, number one. “What happened to you, Shelby? You hated that freak.”
“No…I didn’t. I just never knew her. I was the freak.”
“Oh gimme a break.” Number two laughs. “This is a joke, right? You’re going to dump her food all over her lap or something I bet.”
“No.” There is no expression on Shelby’s face. “I’m not.” Shelby picks up her fork, turns to me and smiles. “Hey, Honor.”
“Hey, Shelby.”
Number two and the gang let out an audible “hmmph” and walk away…to eat their lunch…without their leader.
Fiddling with the food on my tray, I try to think of something to talk about with Shelby – small talk, girl talk, anything. But being I’m not the most socially-forward teenager, I fall short on coming up with any topics at all. Though Shelby is the number one popular girl in school, and therefore socially adept, the fact that she’s poking at her mashed potatoes makes me wonder if maybe we aren’t really meant to be close friends and lunch buddies. I mean, I appreciate the effort she’s making, but she belongs with her own friends – as inconsiderate as they are. Maybe the new Shelby can lead her old friends on the road to kindness and compassion.
There’s no time like the present for being straight-forward.
“Shelby,” I begin, startling my tiny friend. “You know…you don’t have to sit with me, and you don’t have to alienate your friends to be nice to me.”
Casting her eyes downward, Shelby looks embarrassed.
“Shelby, they’re your friends. It’s okay.”
“Yeah, but…I’m sorry the way they talked before. I started their…dislike towards you. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe the kind of person I am.” Shelby’s eyes glisten and fill with tears.
Not knowing what to say, I feel ashamed, and I know those are not my emotions. They’re hers. “Shelby, you’re a good person.” If she’s feeling shame, she must have a compassionate heart. “You were angry before. You had all this pain, the knowledge that you were going to die. It’s hard to be kind when you’re going through that.”
Chuckling beneath her frown, Shelby shakes her head. “What was my excuse before I had cancer?”
My hand naturally drifts over her tiny one, which is now skimming the edge of her tray. It is an inherent reaction of mine to touch a person who is hurting. The realization as to why has just sunk in. My natural inclination, now that I know what I am capable of, is to take away her hurt, but I don’t concentrate on that. My intention now is to show her kindness and compassion…so that she may learn to do the same.
“Shelby, don’t define yourself by your past behavior.” Her tiny hand quivers a bit beneath mine. “Now that you know better, be the person you want to be now.”
She takes her free hand and rubs her eye. I feel her other hand reposition under my hand. She squeezes it. “Thank you, Honor. You’re a good person.”
“You’re welcome.”
The atmosphere between us becomes strained again, but fortunately, or maybe unfortunately – I haven’t made up my mind on that yet – Storm sits on the bench along side of me and erases any awkwardness between Shelby and me. Of course Storm brings along his own thorny climates.
“Ladies.” Storm so arrogantly takes my fork and helps himself to my mashed potatoes.
“Excuse me,” I say, my eyes darting from him to my food.
Dropping the fork back on my tray, the corners of Storm’s face curl up in one of his evil – or charming, I haven’t decided that eithe
r – grins. “Sorry, princess, didn’t mean to touch your food.”
I shake my head in exasperation. I’m still not sure what to make of Storm and it frustrates me. But when I look at him, I see a not-so confident boy beneath his cool-as-a-cucumber façade.
“But seriously, Honor…I need a few moments of your time.” He’s staring directly at me. I feel him, even though I am looking down at my tray. “Can you take a walk with me?”
“No…she can’t.” Ethan’s voice from behind startles all three of us.
“Hey there, little brother.” Storm plays it cool with his greeting. “You’re looking rather joyful today,” he mocks, clearly reading the total lack of joy on Ethan’s face.
Ethan ignores him. “Honor.” He motions to the three inch space between Storm’s knees, as he’s straddled on the bench, and my legs, as I sit correctly at the lunch table.
I move as close to Shelby as I can to let him in, but Ethan doesn’t need to squeeze next to me. Storm gets the hint and gets up.
“I know when I’m not wanted.” He laughs, then taps me on top of the head. “Remember, Honor,” he says much too loudly as he walks away.
“What? What’re you supposed to remember?” Ethan interrogates.
Quietly I tell him that Storm needs to tell me something.
Ethan rolls his eyes. “Geez, Honor. I wish he’d stay away from you. Why can’t he just confront me?”
“I have no idea.” My phone buzzes in my purse. It’s a text…from Storm. How he got my number, I have no idea. Wondering why it should surprise me, I chuckle. He did steal our identification without our knowledge, after all.
“What’s so funny?” Shelby and Ethan ask at the same time.
Still looking at my phone, trying to delete the message, I say, “My mom. Her attempt at a joke.” I lie.
Luckily Ethan isn’t too concerned about mom and her joke; he’s still brooding over Storm.
“Listen, Ethan.” I try to talk some sense into him. “You said yourself that you’d give Storm a chance…”
“Yeah,” he interrupts, ready to bite my head off. “That was before he stole our stuff and ran away with it.”
“Well,” I muster as calmly as I can. “Maybe if I see what he has to say, I can find out what he’s up to.”
“No. You are not to see him. If he’s involved with those people, he can be dangerous. What if he kidnaps you or something?”
“On school property?” I laugh. “I don’t think so. Really, Ethan, think about it. Besides, I don’t think he’s a threat…not to me, anyway.”
Ethan grunts just as the bell rings. “C’mon, I’ll walk ya to class.”
“Oh don’t worry about it. I need to go to my locker first. I forgot my notes.” I lie. I don’t want to tell Ethan, but Storm’s text said to skip my next class and meet him in his car in the parking lot. It read, yes, it’s that important. Cutting classes is not my thing, but I’m pretty sure Storm’s right when he says it’s important.
Ethan lifts his right brow, “Okay, Honor. See you after school.” He pats me on the butt and kisses me quick on the lips.
I walk in the direction of my locker then take the back door out of the school. My brow is sweating, my stomach churning. Breaking the rules intimidates me. I fear authority and despise anarchy. Bile rises up in my throat as I try to nonchalantly search for Storm’s bright orange Charger. Like someone is not going to see us in that car.
Storm is parked behind a tree and a side wall that separates two lots. Convenient, I think. I’m not sure if he had planned it that way, but knowing Storm, he did. Maybe he parks there every day. Maybe he cuts class every day and sits in his car. Who knows? Storm is a challenging guy to figure out.
The window on the passenger side of his car slides open. “Get in, princess.”
Rolling my eyes, I open the door and get in. “So…what’s so important you have me cutting class?”
Storm laughs. “I thought you’d be happy to be pulled out. No?”
“No. Now what’s this about?”
All at once, Storm’s devilish grin is gone, replaced by one of Ethan’s stone-cold expressions – eyes narrowed, lips pierced, nostrils tight. And now I see the brotherly resemblance between him and Ethan.
I narrow my own eyes. “What is it?” I ask, wondering if I really want to know the answer.
“Remember I said they were after us? You said you didn’t believe me, but…I know you really did.”
My mouth opens to object, but he puts his finger over my lips. “Let me talk, Honor.”
He waits…making sure I’m really listening.
“Your grandfather. He left you something.”
“Yes, Ethan told me…”
This time four of his fingers cover my mouth. “Shush. Let me finish.”
“Sorry,” I mumble through his fingers.
“Your great-great-times-something grandfather left you something very valuable. I hadn’t known this before. I found out on my little trip to throw you and Ethan off their track.”
I open my eyes wide, as well as my mouth, but I quickly shut it when Storm runs his finger across his own neck, begging me to stop talking before I start.
“Your great-great…you get it…grandfather was a scientist. A self-proclaimed alchemist, if you will. I’m not sure how long he’d been alive, but along the way he found ways to…lengthen…a person’s life. He found it through empaths’ blood. I don’t know too many particulars. Asking too many questions would have made them suspicious of me, and I did not want that. But this elixir he made can turn someone into an empath…plus make him immortal.”
“What? Who are they?”
“Oh, Honor, will you just let me…”
“Finish, I know. Sorry, go on.”
“They are a group of men who follow some man called The Gaffer. He’s about as old as your dear-old gramps would be...roaming this world for centuries. I hear they were friends, but then your dear-old grammpie ran off…with the elixir…that they both had developed. This elixir…this liquid highway to immortality…it was left to you, Honor.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. My eyes are on top of my forehead, I’m almost sure. Shaking my head and unable to speak, I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to say, what to think. Plus…I have no clue where any sort of elixir is. “I don’t…have…” I stammer.
“You don’t have it.” Storm reinforces. “I didn’t think so. But they think you do. And that means you’re in danger.”
“Oh my goodness.” My eyes tear.
“Don’t worry, princess. We have some time. They think you left for Mexico.”
“Mexico?” My voice comes out in a rasp.
“Before I left Nevada, I bought two tickets to Mexico.”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, I’m the one who took your ID. Anyway, I got a one-way ticket to Mexico, figuring that would buy us some time. Then…I used some random guy’s ID and headed back here.”
The corner of Storm’s mouth quirks, almost like a quiver. He’s scared too. My fear or his own, I have no idea. But it really doesn’t matter, does it? Something like an elixir that can grant immortality along with the ability to heal is certainly something to kill for. I swallow hard. If they think I have it…and I don’t…what will they do to me to find out where it is?
I tremble…like I’ve never trembled before.
And I cry.
Storm reaches over and pulls me close. His hold is tight, and I feel safe.
Then…I can no longer breathe.
I hit him rapidly on the back, attempting to get him to loosen his grip.
He holds me tighter…his hand pressing hard on my arm – as if he were trying to take away my fear.
But…it’s not working. I’m more than afraid.
I pound ferociously with both my hands.
Pounding.
Pounding.
Pounding.
He pulls away and looks at me with notched brows. “Honor. You’re white as a ghost…a
nd…so…cold.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A dark cloud envelops me. The size of the car has been reduced to the size of a Dixie cup. I need to get out. Remove myself from Storm immediately. Opening the car door and not bothering to shut it, I run straight for the building, pausing at the top of the stairs. Ethan is standing there with his hands deep in his pockets. A scowl taints his pretty face.
Realizing he saw me with Storm and aware that he is angry, I ignore it and leap into his arms. Like the hot sun that forces its way out after a storm, Ethan wraps his arms around me and takes away the darkness - my sunshine after the thunderstorm that is Storm Sutherland.
I am not quite sure what to make of Storm. He pulls me in. He almost demands it of me without saying a word. Yet…he frightens me now. There is something dark. Almost evil. And I’m not even sure he realizes it.
“Honor.” Ethan says so seriously. “What did he do to you?” His question is asked above my head, his chin resting on it.
“I don’t wanna talk about it yet.” I mumble into his shirt.
Ethan squeezes me tight, all the while rubbing my back with firm strokes. I know he’s trying to absorb some of my fear, but it’s a pointless endeavor. Ethan will take on my emotions, then I’ll take on his, and like he once told me, it would just be an endless cycle…with benefit to no one.
Glancing up into Ethan’s dark purple eyes, I affirm that I will let him in on Storm’s revelation. Just not at school. “Right now, Ethan, I want to go to the nurse and lie down. Maybe even go home.”
“Okay, I’ll take you.”
I hear the defeat in his tone. It’s killing him to not know what Storm and I were talking about. But I’ve a headache so huge now – a headache resulting from my own turmoil, no one else’s – that closing my eyes and going to sleep is the only thing on my mind.
**
A warm hand on my forehead nudges me awake.
“Honor.” It’s Ethan. “How ya feelin’?
I sit up to determine what I’m feeling before I answer. “Better.”
“So…ya gonna tell me?” Ethan asks, sitting down across from me on my bed.