The 'Naturals: Awakening (Episodes 17-20 -- Season 1) (Young Adult Serial)

by Patterson, Aaron

  “Doesn’t matter how we got out,” said Marshall. “I—er, we came to tell you it’s over. This thing between me and you. It’s finished. Done. No more.”

  Dennis’ eyes lit up anew, he leapt from the porch to land on the ground a few feet in front of Marshall. So what if he was almost naked? It only showed off his powerful muscles. He raised an angry fist and shoved his forefinger toward Marshall’s face. “I don’t know what you thought would happen here, and I don’t care how you got free. One thing I do know: I don’t take orders from you or your nerd squad. Not now, not—”

  Dennis turned to his left to see the high school football team’s bus speeding toward him, its high beams blinding. It was closing fast from less than fifty feet away, and he froze.

  It sped directly at him like a massive cannonball until it screeched and skidded on the grass as its brakes were applied. Dennis fell backwards on his hands and backpedaled as the bus came to a stop in the very spot where he’d been standing.

  “What the—?”

  Behind him, Piper’s car came racing at him just as the bus had done, and he again crawled backwards until his head hit the bus’ front fender. Piper’s hybrid slammed on the brakes and stopped, leaving Dennis mere inches of wiggle room between the two vehicles.

  There was something more than anger on his face this time. Because unlike the bus, he could see that the driver’s seat of the car was empty. His mouth tried to form words, but he couldn’t make any sound.

  “Next time,” said Marshall, taking a bold step towards him, ”the cars don’t stop. You tell anyone about this, and you get flattened. You so much as think about bullying anyone, ever again, and I won’t hold back. From this day on you will treat me, my friends, and everyone around you with nothing but courtesy and respect. Or you get be my mother’s handsome new doormat.”

  “How are you—?” Dennis managed to croak. Then his mind caught up with the threat. “You don’t have the guts!”

  A cacophony of sound exploded into the night as everything in Dennis’ house turned itself on, running faster, harder, and considerably louder than they were meant to. The house thundered, rumbling louder and louder.

  “I’m just done,” said Marshall. “With you. With this. And if turning you into a pancake is the only way to do it, well…”

  The car and the bus growled to life, their engines revving powerfully. Both of them moved a few inches forward until they touched Dennis from either side. Then they came even closer, starting to squeeze. All the while, the din inside the house turned into a freight train that was ready to blow.

  “Okay, okay!” Dennis yelled, gritting his teeth against the two vehicles pressing in on him. “No more!”

  The noise ended, the cars pulled back to let Dennis breathe, and Marshall looked the bully in the eye and merely nodded.

  As the three of them turned to leave, Piper briefly turned back.

  “Oh, and by the way… You suck at football. Really, really, a lot.”

  The following Monday, Piper was walking out of the Chem lab when Dennis was on his way in. He froze, then anxiously let her go first while holding the door open for her. He never looked her in the eye. In P.E., he privately asked Coach Harris for a new gym partner, and even suggested that Marshall be paired with Linus and allowed to run laps while the rest of the class moved on from wrestling to dodge ball.

  Instead of searching for others like him, Marshall was distracted for the next week-and-a-half by experimenting, learning what kinds of things he could control. It appeared that he could remotely manipulate anything that used electricity, as well as anything with machine parts. So far he knew that he could turn things on and off, but it didn’t appear that he could make a machine do anything it wasn’t made to do. He couldn’t make a grandfather clock get up and walk, just as he couldn’t make a car fly. Although he supposed he could build add-on components to expand their capabilities.

  On a breezy, mild, sunny day, Coach Harris was letting the boys’ class take advantage of the nice weather instead of keeping them inside. On the far side of the field, closer to the school, was a group of a dozen or so boys in a circle, listening to the Coach as he held a dodge ball in each hand.

  “You should ask Suzie,” said Marshall out of the blue.

  “Ask her what?” said Linus between the heavy panting their jogging caused him. His gray t-shirt had a giant, U-shaped sweat stain stretching from his neck to his stomach, and damp spots peeked out from his underarms as well. The moisture had turned his light brown hair black, and he must’ve run his arm over his forehead a hundred times, wicking away the sweat.

  Marshall rolled his eyes but grinned. “To the Monster’s Ball. It’s tomorrow night,” he said. His tall, gangly frame was sweaty too, but not as soaked as his friend. His gasps for air weren’t as heavy or labored, either. If Linus had been anyone else, Marshall suspected his friend would have resented him for the contrast between their physical states, however minor that contrast may be. But that sort of thing just wasn’t in Linus’ nature.

  Linus craned his head sharply to gaze at Marshall with shock. “Are you—you can’t be—I don’t—it’s just… Do you think she’d say yes?”

  Marshall was about to encourage Linus to find out for himself when he spotted something. They were jogging on the outer side of the path, near the farthest edge of the school but still inside the chain-link fence surrounding the property. Just on the other side of the fence a man was clinging to the chain links with a huge red spot over his chest.

  “Go get Coach Harris!” Marshall yelled.

  Linus turned, saw the bleeding man, and then ran for the huddle on the far side of the field as fast as he could go.

  Marshall approached the man quickly, but only when they were face-to-face, with the fence between them, did he recognize him. It was that weird old man he’d met weeks ago out in the woods. The day Piper had given him a driving lesson in her hybrid, the day the car broke down and he fixed it…

  “Found it…” muttered the old man, his eyes big and wild. “I found it…knew it was there…I knew it!”

  “What happened to you?” cried Marshall, looking around for some strip of cloth he could use to cover the wound over the man’s chest. Was it a gunshot hole? Had he been stabbed? The old man’s shirt was covered by a gray overcoat so he couldn’t tell.

  “I knew it was there, and I found it…” he said again.

  Marshall wondered if the old man even realized anyone was there with him, or if he was just talking to himself. But just then the man’s crazed eyes made contact with Marshall’s and came into focus.

  “You!” he gasped, wheezing hard to suck in air. “It’s just like I said! I found it! I knew it was there!”

  Marshall glanced back toward the school to see Coach Harris and several of the bigger boys running in his direction. “What?” he asked the man.

  “It was there…in the ground!”

  The old man exhaled and went still. He never inhaled again.

  Piper hated volleyball, and she had to pee. It was totally unfair that the boys got to run around outside while they were stuck in the gymnasium. Not that she was all that into the outdoors or anything. But the gym had the only volleyball court on campus, and anal old Mrs. Delgado, the girls’ P.E. teacher, allowed for zero flexibility in her curriculum.

  At least it wasn’t hard to get permission to visit the potty. The teacher didn’t seem to mind, and even asked a favor of her as she went.

  “See if Suzie’s okay, would you?” said Mrs. Delgado. “She’s been in there for over twenty minutes.”

  Piper choked down the urge to reply with something like ”Oh, goodie! Can I really?” and instead nodded as she walked away. The girls’ restroom was two doors down the hall from the gym—the boys’ restroom was next door, naturally—and since she was in no hurry to get back to the volleyball game, Piper took her time striding down the hall.

  In the bathroom she spotted a pair of sneaker-wearing feet under one of the three st
alls, and knew they belonged to Suzie. The urge to relieve herself growing stronger, she ignored Mrs. Delgado’s request for the moment and ducked into one of the empty stalls.

  Piper heard an overly-dramatic whimper before she could lock the stall door. Then there was a muffled—though not muffled enough—sob.

  She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to get involved. Suzie was a classic drama queen, and if she was crying, it was most likely about something as stupid as split ends in her hair.

  When there was an even louder sob, Piper sighed and walked out of her stall.

  “Suzie?”

  “Who’s there?” asked Suzie, as if she had no idea she wasn’t alone.

  “It’s Piper,” she replied, biting her tongue to keep from adding, ”you brain-dead twit.” Instead, she asked, ”What’s wrong?”

  Suzie’s stall opened and she stepped out slowly, tears raining down her red, blotchy face. She cried with heaves and moans. “I think—I think something’s really wrong with me.”

  “Wrong?” repeated Piper. She instantly thought back to the night of the football game, when Marshall had had that weird dream that showed him several other people just like him. People with supernaturally heightened abilities. If someone like Suzie were to suddenly find herself in possession of a superpower, wouldn’t she see it as abnormal? Something wrong with herself, even? She studied Suzie carefully, her breath caught in her throat.

  Suzie nodded, wiping her nose with a wad of toilet paper.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” said Piper.

  Suzie bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes again as she looked at Piper, then down at the floor. She looked back up, and the words spilled out of her in a mad rush. “I think I might be pregnant!”

  Piper’s shoulders fell. Pregnant?

  Good grief.

  Suzie reached into a pocket in her gym shorts and retrieved a plastic, white pregnancy test. She handed it to Piper, who noted that it hadn’t changed colors yet. A little diagram on the back said two lines would appear if it was positive, while there would be only one line if it was negative.

  A logical thought reflexively shot through Piper’s mind, and she asked it aloud before she could catch herself. “So who did you do it with?”

  “Lots of guys,” said Suzie, with more tears appearing. Then she stopped. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘do it’?”

  “If you don’t know, then you probably haven’t done it,” said Piper, fuming. She wanted to throw the stupid pregnancy test in Suzie’s face. She looked down at it again and saw that a single line had appeared. She held it up for Suzie to see.

  Realizing it was negative, Suzie threw her arms around Piper and squeezed her way too tight. “Oh, thank God! And thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Uh, I don’t like the touching—” Piper muttered.

  “Thank you!” Suzie whined.

  “Yeah, you know, whatever,” said Piper, trapped and wiggling to get free. “Look, my personal bubble isn’t used to hugs, so you can just let go now…”

  But Suzie instead clung tighter, crying even louder than before. “Thank you, thank you…” she wailed.

  “Hey! Prom queen!” Piper shouted, her features hardening. She forced apart Suzie’s vice grip with a hand on each of Suzie’s arms. “We’re done here, so why don’t you go make out with yourself or something?”

  Finally, Suzie released her and walked away. Piper closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. She hated touching other people. Probably some deep psychological thing from her past, but she didn’t want to over-analyze it. She simply preferred keeping to herself. She shivered, shaking off the feeling of her skin touching someone else’s, and then swallowed.

  That was when she noticed how quiet it had become in the restroom. Suzie’s crying had stopped abruptly, replaced by something else. An odd, soft sound.

  Piper opened her eyes to find Suzie leaning over the bathroom’s only sink, her face touching the mirror straight on.

  “What are you…?” she said, leaning around for a better angle.

  But Suzie wasn’t looking in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, her head weaving back and forth. And her lips were touching the mirror. Kissing it.

  Making out with it.

  Piper’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart pounded hard in her ears. Was she really seeing this? Was Suzie seriously making out with herself? Why would she…? What had happened right before this? Piper had told her to do it, right after…

  Piper looked down at her own hands. The hands she had just touched Suzie with. Turned them over slowly until her palms were up.

  “Oh, fish-flakes.”

  AVERY

  Melody Carlson

  Episode Nineteen

  IT HAD BEEN MR. O’s idea for Avery to speak to Miss Truvell on Friday, but now that she was sitting in the perfectly decorated office with this stunningly beautiful woman, Avery felt tongue-tied.

  “Come on,” Miss Truvell gently urged her. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  Where to begin? Should Avery confess how she felt like Dexter was stalking her now that she wanted him out of her life? Should she tattle about how he was refusing to let her go and acting hostile to anyone who came between them? Or perhaps she should admit her fears of having a brain tumor—the only explanation she had for the electrical flashes that zapped her head, filling her mind with strange visions, and then leaving her with a migraine headache afterward? Or perhaps she should tell her about her recent identity crisis—the result of discovering she was a test tube baby and not really a McAllister. The list seemed endless...and embarrassing.

  “Mr. O’Malley said that you and Dexter broke up,” Miss Truvell said with a sympathetic tone. “Is that what’s making you sad?”

  “No,” Avery said quickly. “I’m not sad. I’m the one who broke it off.”

  “Really?” Miss Truvell seemed genuinely surprised.

  “He was suffocating me,” Avery explained. “And then yesterday he hit Riley and—”

  “He hit Riley?” Her fine brows arched. “Is Riley okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. But the incident showed me who Dexter really is—I mean his true colors. And that’s when I decided I was finished with him.”

  “I see….” Miss Truvell was actually writing something down. Was she taking notes for some disciplinary action against Dexter? Maybe that would be a good thing.

  “I assume Riley provoked Dexter.” Miss Truvell smiled in what seemed a patronizing way. “I know Dexter quite well, and he doesn’t seem like the bullying type. Such a polite young man, don’t you think?”

  “I think he has control issues,” Avery told her. “I think he’s spoiled and self-centered and used to having his own way.”

  Miss Truvell laughed lightly. “Oh, Avery, you sound a bit like sour grapes. Are you sure you’re the one who broke it off with him?”

  Avery stifled her anger. Obviously Miss Truvell did not get it. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she said as she reached for her bag. “I only came because Mr. O suggested it.”

  “Yes, and it was a good suggestion. The problem is I can’t help you, Avery, not unless you’re willing to be transparent with me. And apparently you’re not.” Miss Truvell smoothed her already smooth blonde hair. “If you decide to open up, please, feel free to come again. The truth is I’m not really very good at just hand holding.”

  Avery stood. “I don’t need any hand holding.”

  “I will give you one bit of free advice.” Miss Truvell twisted a pencil between her perfectly manicured fingers.

  “What’s that?” Avery paused with her hand on the door.

  “Don’t be too quick to give up on Dexter. I suspect you’ll be hard pressed to find a more devoted boyfriend.”

  “Maybe I don’t want a devoted boyfriend,” Avery shot back at her.

  Miss Truvell just laughed. “Yes…well, maybe you don’t. Have a good day, dear.”

  As Avery left the office, she f
elt a cold chill rush through her—and as she walked through the waiting area, she could tell it was happening again—that electrical zap that started in the center of her forehead. She hurried to a chair just in time and, collapsing into it, she clutched her head…waiting for it to pass. Sometimes she saw strange lights and colors and shapes—almost like fireworks. Other times it was hazy and fluid, like being under water. But when she’d researched her symptoms online, she usually discovered answers like brain tumor or stroke.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  She looked up with blurry eyes to see Riley standing in front of her.

  “Uh…not really.”

  He sat down and actually put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you sick?” he asked kindly. “Want me to get someone?”

  “No.” She took in deep a breath, trying to steady herself. “Just kinda dizzy…head hurts…it’ll go away soon.” The feeling of his arm around her shoulders filled her with an unexpected warmth—and the colors she was seeing in her head turned from harsh blues and purples to warm golden yellows. She opened her eyes again and sighed. “Better,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

  He was studying her closely. “Does that happen often?”

  She shrugged. “Lately it seems to.” Feeling self conscious, she sat up straighter and he moved his arm away.

  “Do you know what causes it?” He glanced around as if to see if anyone was watching them. “Does anything strange happen when you experience that?”

  She peered curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I think I might understand. Something like that happens to me too.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “It used to be pretty random. But when we moved to Silverwood, it intensified.” He lowered his voice. “Remember that day when I saw you on Main Street? I was driving the U-Haul truck?”

  “Yes,” she said eagerly.

  “I had a flash of something then.”

  “Me too.”

  “And then…last week…at the football game.” His eyes darted around again, making sure no one was listening. “Something happened.”