She hangs up without saying anything else, and I huff in frustration. I walk past a smug Marcus. “Am I to stay outside?” he asks in a challenging tone.
Jerk.
“You already know the answer.”
I head back into the classroom, where Miss Edwards has already started the class. “Nice of you to take time out from your important phone call to join us. Next time I’ll write you up. Sit.” She points to my seat with a scowl on her face.
I hear Marcus chuckle from behind me, and I swing around to give him an ‘eat me’ look. Instead, the jerk winks at me, smiles and stares ahead.
Double ugh. Dealing with him is going to be painful.
Quietly I sit, and face forward. My jaw is clenching and I’m shaking because I’m so mad with Mr. Steroid and his smug attitude.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, today’s an extra fun day because I’m giving you all an exam on the book we’ve been studying.” The entire class, including me, groan. “If you’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird then you’ll do well, if you didn’t, then you won’t.” The class mumbles again. I know I’ve read it, well kind of skim-read it.
She starts handing out the tests, and gets to my desk. She places the test face down on my table, and simultaneously I reach for my pen. Our hands touch in error, and suddenly I’m sitting in this quaint airy office space.
Looking around I see a library from floor to ceiling. Every spare space has been taken up with books. The office is light and bright, painted a happy tone of yellow. The furniture is white and a stark contrast to the heavy wooden cases containing easily hundreds if not a thousand books.
Directly in front of me is Miss Edwards, at her desk. She’s rubbing at her temples with her left hand, as she writes something with her right. I stretch over and look at what she’s writing. On top of the page she’s written, ‘Points that need mentioning,’ I look down the list and realize she’s written down what we need to mention in order to receive high marks. I quickly read as many as I can before I’m forced out of this vision. I recite them as I go along, trying to commit each and every one to memory.
I’m back in the classroom and Miss Edwards moves to the next student.
I didn’t get to see them all, but I think I saw enough to remember how she wants us to answer the questions. Slyly I turn to look around the class preparing for the test. Marcus catches my eye, and he lifts his brows and gives me a small nod.
Crap.
Crap.
Double crap.
He knows.
Marcus, AKA my shadow, AKA G.I. Joe, AKA anything I feel like calling him, has not left my trail at all. Even going to the bathroom, he’s positioned himself outside the door and called out when I’ve taken too long.
When I get home from school, I want to touch him and try to get another read on him. Try to get to know him. But something tells me, this is going to be harder than I can imagine.
Sitting in the cafeteria at lunch, I’m pushing my food around the plate while Dallas, Courtney and Amy talk about what happened last weekend. I can hear them, but I’m definitely not listening.
“Lexi.” I feel a tap on my shoulder.
Turning I’m met by Brody Williams who’s one of the guys in my year. He looks nervous, like he’s about to puke on me. “Hey, Brody,” I say as I offer him a smile.
“How are you?” He rubs his hands down the front of his jeans, and looks to the floor.
“Yeah, good.” I notice Marcus step forward, moving beside Brody.
Brody looks to Marcus and his face drains, as he swallows hard. “Um, I just wanted to see how you are.” He looks to me, then back to Marcus, then over to his friends who are sitting a few tables away.
Brody Williams is one of the really smart kids at school, like super smart. He wears the cutest glasses, and has the absolute most horrific fashion sense ever. He wears plaid and stripes together. But he’s really cute, and super nerdy.
“I’m doing well. Want to sit?” I point to the empty chair beside me.
“Um,” he nervously answers as he looks over to Marcus. “Um.” Marcus’s eyes narrow to Brody, and Brody retaliates by stepping backward.
“Just sit.”
Carelessly forgetting, I reach out to grab his hand, and I’m thrust inside a vision. He’s sitting at a table while his mom’s in the kitchen behind him. “You have three more hours of study to do tonight, Brody,” his mom calls from in front of the stove.
“I know, Mom,” he replies and sighs. She turns her back to continue cooking, and Brody slumps further down into his chair. I can see the spread of books out on the table, while his laptop is opened and he’s working on something. “I’m tired. Can I put in an extra hour tomorrow and take an hour off tonight?”
“Do you want to end up like your father?” his mother spits toward him. He shakes his head. “Do you want to end up with a needle in your arm, like your brother has?”
Brody sighs and shakes his head again.
I can feel the heaviness in the room. The immense amount of pressure on him to do well at school. “I’m just tired and I want a rest.”
His mom marches over from the kitchen, and stands with her hands on her hips, towering over him. “If you don’t educate yourself, you’ll never get anywhere in this life. You understand?” she half yells at him.
“Yes, Mom,” he replies in a small and meek voice.
But even I can see, he’s miserable and probably burnt out from studying. She lets out a long exhale, pats him on the head, and says, “Okay, take a break for an hour. You can go practice your saxophone.”
For a split-second I see the happiness in Brody’s eyes, before the fire is extinguished the moment his mom gave him another task. “Sure.” He pushes up from the table, and leaves where he was studying. His mom returns to the kitchen, and I hear a beautiful and soulful song being played from another area of the house.
His mom bursts into tears in the kitchen. She stops doing what she was doing, and looks up to the ceiling. “His only hope to get out of here is for him to study hard. Please, Daddy, please help him find his way.” Her words are heartfelt, and I can tell she’s just doing the best she can.
Looking around the house, I notice it’s a in run-down condition. The furniture is all old and worn. But what is really apparent is she’s doing the best she can.
I blink and I’m back in the cafeteria. Brody’s still standing in front of me, looking the way he was before my vision. “Here, sit,” I offer again.
Brody sits and nervously knots his hands together. “Thanks. Um, how are you feeling? I heard you were rushed into the hospital. Are you better now?”
“Yeah, I’m great. So how long have you been playing the saxophone?”
His eyes light up, his chest puffs out and a genuine smile brightens his entire face. “I’ve been playing for years. Mom said I had to pick an instrument to play, so I picked the sax. How do you know I play the sax?”
Great, I need to lie. “Didn’t I see you in band once?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe.”
After that, the conversation between Brody and me becomes easier. Marcus steps back and resorts to only staring at Brody as opposed to actively intimidating him. I come to learn Brody likes Dallas, and wants to ask her out on a date but has no idea how to do it. While Dallas was preoccupied with talking to Courtney and Amy, he wanted to ask me what she likes—other than purple.
When he leaves, I feel different. The vision I had from Brody was more defined, and I took more in. I noticed more details and I spent extra time in there even though the touch was only slight.
Feeling happier, I turn to eat some of my food before lunch is finished and we need to head back to class.
“Hey,” Dallas says staring at me.
“What?” Her intense glare is scaring the crap out of me. I wipe my nose in case I have something hanging. And then I run the back of my hand over my mouth.
“You wearing contacts?” She moves her face closer to
mine, and really stares into my eyes.
“Ahhh, no. I don’t need glasses.”
“I know you don’t need glasses, but have you got colored contacts in?”
“Dallas, I swear you’re the weirdest person I know. Why would I have colored contacts when there’s nothing wrong with my eyes?”
“Dude, seriously, it looks like that eye has a colored contact.” She points to my left eye. “It’s kinda got a tinge of blue around the outside.”
“What?” Stressing out, I jump up from my seat, leave my tray and head over to the closest female bathrooms. I know Marcus is only paces behind me because I can hear the heaviness of his footsteps on the hallway floors.
Pushing through the bathroom door, there are two girls standing near the basin, re-applying their make-up. They turn to look at me, and one arches her brow as I frantically head toward an unoccupied mirror.
They both go back to talking, something about what one of the cheerleaders did with another cheerleader’s boyfriend. I tune out as I closely approach the mirror and check my eyes out.
I’ve always had freaky colored green eyes, they’re an intense green with small, darker green outline. My parents have no idea where I got the coloring from, because both come from generations of brown, or dark brown eyes. Mine have always been so different that I used to get teased in elementary school all the time about them.
Now I get the occasional compliment, and sometimes people ask me if the color comes from contacts.
Leaning into the mirror, I focus on my left eye, and notice the blue around one side of the iris. It’s definitely there, and quite prominent considering my eyes are such a weird and vibrant shade of green. The blue is a glaring contrast to the green surrounding it.
“Why are you blue?” I ask aloud.
“What?” one of the girls grunts.
I’d completely forgotten all about them until the one with the long blonde hair, and perfect porcelain skin speaks.
Blinking, I turn to look at her. “I was talking to myself.” Spinning back, my gaze goes directly to my right eye. “How weird.”
Scrunching my brows together, I try and make sense of my left eye. I’m nearly seventeen, my eyes shouldn’t be establishing their color now. This is so freaky, and not to mention, creepy.
Taking a deep breath, I’m completely intrigued by the blue.
The two girls exit the bathroom, leaving me the only person in here. Stepping back half a step, I tilt my head to the left and then to the right. Yep, it totally looks weird, but I kinda really like it too.
The door swings open forcefully, and Marcus steps into the bathroom. “Alexa,” he booms as he looks around the bathroom with a drawn weapon.
The power of the door slamming up against the wall, frightens me, making me jump. “Jesus, Marcus, you scared the shit out of me.” My heart beats frantically as I clutch at my chest in a mini panic attack.
“Are you alright?”
I squint my eyes at him and slant my head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be? And why have you got your gun out? Why the hell have you got a gun to begin with? We’re in a high school, there’s no need for weapons. And . . .” I just feel like yelling at him, so I continue, “ . . . what if I was on the toilet?”
Marcus straightens, holsters his gun, and buttons his suit jacket up. “I’m doing my job.”
“By nearly making me soil myself?” I point toward his chest where his holster is.
He chuckles, runs his hand through his very short hair and shakes his head. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Yeah, good idea, buddy,” I angrily spit.
Marcus leaves me in the bathroom, and I take a minute to calm down and get ready to go to class. As I leave Dallas and Marcus are both outside the door, talking. “Hey, you okay?” Dallas asks. “You ran off and I had no idea why.”
“I um, you know, I um thought I had something in my eye.” I rub it for extra effect. “I’m good.” We both head toward our next class, and I look over my shoulder to Marcus. “What were you two talking about?”
“He was telling me about a time a client he was protecting ran him over because she was drunk.”
More like, because he’s an ass. “He doesn’t strike me as a guy who has a conversation easily,” I grumble that he’s talking to her and only giving me snide or blank stares.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I asked him if he’s ever been a body guard to a girl before, and he told me about the drunk chick.”
“Hmm, interesting,” I mumble as I look over my shoulder again to Marcus.
We head into class, and Marcus stands at the back of the room.
Something is definitely off about him, and I want to know what it is.
It’s been days since Dallas first told me about my eye color. I haven’t had another vision, because I haven’t touched anyone.
Every time I try to touch Marcus, so I can get a better read on him, he always maneuvers away from me so I can’t touch him. He’s a strange man, a man I’m convinced knows much more about me than he’s letting on.
It’s my birthday in four days, and I can’t wait ’til I turn seventeen. My parents already told me, they’re going to buy me a car as soon as I get a permit. I can’t wait!
I leave my bedroom and go in search of my parents. “Mom,” I call loudly. “Dad!” I call even louder.
“They had to leave early this morning,” Laura replies from the kitchen.
She’s stealthy, quietly tip-toeing through the house, sneaking around like a damn cat.
I head into the kitchen to find her leaning against the island counter, drinking a cup of coffee. “Where’s Mr. Personality?” I ask as I look around.
The corners of her mouth tug up in a small smile, but she quickly lifts the cup to cover her grin. Her eyes though, they’re still smiling. “He’ll relieve me later today,” her reply is short.
“Great,” I mumble to myself. Heading into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, I decide I want to peek into Laura’s future. “We haven’t really been introduced.” I hold my hand out to her. “I’m Alexa Murphy but everyone calls me Lexi.” Not that she doesn’t know this, but it’s a way for me to grab hold of her hand.
She looks down at my offered hand and arches her brow at me. “You can call me Laura,” she says without taking my hand.
I shove it further forward, and hope she takes it. She stares into my eyes, then places her cup on the counter. She wraps her fingers around my hand, and in that very instant, I’m standing in a dark alley.
Graffiti adorn the walls as a putrid smell wafts into my nostrils.
“Come on, I’m going to buy you dinner,” Laura says to someone. I can’t see who she’s talking to because Laura’s standing with her back to me, and it’s blocking whomever she’s speaking with.
“Just give me the money, and I’ll buy my own dinner,” a soft voice replies.
“We both know the moment I give you money, it’s going in your arm, so no. Come with me to the diner around the corner and I’ll buy you something to eat.”
The darkness of the alley frightens the shit out of me. The fearsome sounds coming from close by terrify me more than the murky shadows. My frantic heart doesn’t get the memo that this is a vision. It’s so real.
“I can’t go there.” The girl steps around Laura and starts to move away from her. Her features are almost identical to Laura’s, except Laura has dark hair, and this girl has dull, lifeless brown hair. The girl pulls away from Laura, and rubs her right hand up and down her left arm.
She’s so dirty, and her clothes are barely hanging together. “Why?” Laura questions. “Why can’t you go there?” I glimpse at Laura, then look back to her, studying her features. She has a split lip with tiny blood droplets still fresh from where it’s been cut. Her left eye is heavily bruised, almost swollen shut, while her right eye has darkening splotches beneath it. She looks like she’s gotten a few punches from someone.
The girl looks down at her feet
and shuffles. She looks like she wants to go to the bathroom, but I know she’s nervous about telling Laura the reason. “Because . . .” her small voice trails off.
My heart breaks for the girl. She’s obviously a junkie and she’s so embarrassed by the way her life has turned out for her.
“It’s not too late for you,” I say while trying to reach out to her. But of course, she can’t hear me.
“Just come home with me, Jade. I can get you the help you need. Please? It’s not safe out here.” The fear Laura has for her sister’s predicament is obvious.
Laura’s begging brings tears to my eyes. Jade’s shoulders slump and she shakes her head. “This is my home now.” She sweeps her hand across the dirty, disgusting alleyway. “This is where I belong.”
“No, it doesn’t have to be. Come home. I’ll get you into a treatment program. I’ll help you with everything. Just please come home.”
Jade straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. “If you want to do something for me, then give me some money,” her voice turns harsh, but the tear that escapes her eye tells such a different story.
“You know I won’t do that.”
“Then I have to go to work.” She shrugs out of the dirty sweater she’s wearing and ties it around her tiny waist. As she walks past me, I notice the track marks and the bruising prominent on her arms.
“Jade.”
I’m back in my kitchen. Laura leans over and picks her coffee cup up.
It’s then I see the stress on her face, the worry in her eyes, and the wrinkles across her forehead. She looks so tired, like she needs to sleep for a hundred years to catch up. What do I say to her? Nothing, because if I do, she’s going to question how I know about Jade. She’s going to want to know and I can’t give her any answers.
“I won’t be long, I’ll just grab an apple and some juice and we’ll get going to school.”
“Sure thing.” She finishes her coffee and walks over to the sink, where she fills the cup with water and leaves it in the basin. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
The Gift: The Butterfly Effect, Book 1. Page 6