‘Spring Dance shopping remember?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I totally forgot. I’m sorry. I-’
A roughly folded piece of paper gently descended in front of Allie. She looked at the back row. Eric and Izzy smiled at her. She unfolded the paper. There was a message in rough handwriting scribbled on the inside. Allie chuckled as she read it. I peered at the note, but I couldn’t make out what it said from my position.
Allie reached into her backpack for a pen and wrote something in response beneath the original message. She folded the note and threw it at the adroit. Izzy telekinetically caught it in mid-air and propelled it towards her hand. She unfolded it and smiled as she read it. She showed it to the rest of the adroit. They broke out in laughter.
‘Would you mind sharing the joke with the rest of the class, Mrs Brandt?’ Mrs Mckinley asked.
‘It’s an inside joke,’ Izzy said.
She telekinetically crumpled the paper above her palm and incinerated it.
There was a cough in the back row. The room smelled of smoke.
Mrs Mckinley shook her head. ‘Open your textbooks to page thirty-three.’
The sound of backpack zips opening and closing and pages flipping filled the room.
‘So Eric, huh?’ I whispered as I paged through my book.
‘Yeah,’ Allie murmured. ‘I had to sneak him and the others into the theatre, but it was awesome. I think he might actually ask me to the dance.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, he kinda brought it up after the movie. He asked me if I was going, so it’s just a matter of time before he asks.’
Can’t you see they’re just using you, Allie! I wanted to shout. I let her have the benefit of the doubt. I dared not wake her from her fantasy. I allowed her to enjoy it a while longer and hoped she would realise what was truly going on soon enough.
***
It’s funny how you could be surrounded by so many people yet feel so alone.
I thought the adroit sitting with us at lunch was a one-off, but they did it again the next day. Allie and I were both surprised, as the four adroit — Izzy, Eric, Christie and Rory joined us at our lunch table. They complemented Allie on her abilities and how they could think of a million useful ways to use them. They discussed how it was like the first time they each used their abilities. Not having an exciting ability story of my own, I sat back and listened. I felt like a complete alien. For the next few weeks, this became my life.
Chapter 9
The adroit were a mean bunch. It was nothing new, yet I found myself wondering why I stuck around as Allie and I walked alongside them through the school hallways. At first, I told myself it was because of Allie. I told myself she would come to her senses soon enough, but it had been more than two weeks, and Allie hadn’t changed her tune. In fact, she began to sound more like them every day.
To avoid the adroit, I would initially make excuses about my crutches slowing them down. Of being too behind with my school work to hang out after school. Being down to just an air cast boot and nearly healed, I had run out of excuses. Plus as much as I hated to admit it, being with the adroit beat being alone. At least, I thought so.
‘What you looking at maladroit?’ Izzy hissed at Asher who had briefly locked eyes with me as we passed him in the hallway.
‘Your overgrown ego,’ Asher retorted.
Eric telekinetically lifted Asher off the ground. Asher flailed and dropped the books he was holding. Eric motioned his fingers, pinning Asher against the wall.
‘What did you say?’ Eric demanded as he stepped closer. Real close.
‘Let him go,’ I demanded.
Eric levitated Asher higher before releasing him. Asher collapsed to the floor like a rag doll. I picked up his books.
Except for Allie, the adroit all gave me disapproving looks before continuing on without me.
I handed him his books.
‘Thanks,’ Asher said.
‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ’Missed you at treatment the other day.’
‘I had to quit,’ he sighed. His tone dropped an octave. ‘It would have been too expensive to continue.’
I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know how he felt. I knew the feeling too well. The feeling of not being able to achieve any results — the feeling of hopelessness. I didn’t have the words to console him.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all I could say.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, shrugging it off. He changed the topic. ’Ever wonder what it would be like to live in a world without special abilities?’
‘A lot,’ I confessed.
Scientist have proven that Ability Dysfunction Syndrome is a real thing.
‘We seem to have this innate desire to label things,’ he said. ’Labels are necessary. We need them to differentiate between red and blue, hot and cold. Social labels, however, serve nothing more than to promote limitations.’
‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘We’re more than these bodies and abilities—more than maladroit or adroit.’
‘I am more than my label. Our abilities are supposedly a step in evolution, but perhaps we’re not as evolved as we’d like to think,’ he elaborated. ‘What is it that gives us the need to feel superior? We prey on the weak like animals. It’s not as though we’re so primal that we need to fight for food or shelter.’
‘You should tell the adroit that,’ I suggested.
‘I doubt their Neanderthal minds would be able to comprehend such complex ideologies,’ he said, trying to force a smile. He sighed. ‘I am so tired of being labelled.’
His voice broke as he said, ‘Just for once I’d like to be seen as a being with equal rights and not just this shell and its attributes.’
***
With each treatment, I was occasionally subjected to tests and checkups. Dr Graham’s treatment required that I undergo tests every three weeks to monitor my progress.
‘I need you to hold still,’ said a nurse as she adjusted the headrest of the CT scanner I was laid on.
The nurse pressed some buttons on the control panel, and I slowly slid into the scanner.
Mum was very concerned the first time I had a CT scan.
‘I heard people often have bad reactions to the medication administered before the CT.’
‘You don’t have to worry about it. It was common in the past for iodine galleries as the contrast dye contained traces of it. The modern dye is very safe.’
‘What about the radiation?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t it harmful to kids under fifteen years?’
When the treatments and tests began, Mum would try and read up and understand every procedure I underwent. She often seemed to know more than the doctors.
‘The radiation is minimal,’ the doctor told her. ‘The duration of quality of radiation is very minimal. One would have to be exposed to this low level of radiation constantly to increase the risks of cancer. A dozen scans or less per year are safe.’
Dad was seated in the waiting area when Mum and I exited the lift.
He stood up upon noticing us.
‘Ray?’ Mum said. ‘What a surprise?’
Mum and Dad awkwardly stared at each other. It was the first time I had seen them both in the same room since the falling out.
‘Hey Dad,’ I said breaking the silence. I hugged him.
‘I was in the neighbourhood,’ Dad said. ‘Thought I might drop by and see how the treatment was going.’
‘You didn’t have to,’ Mum said.
‘I wanted to,’ Dad insisted.
***
People were intrigued by me the way they were intrigued by fire-breathers and circus animals.
‘How come you don’t have any abilities?’ Christie asked. It was just the two of us at the adroit lunch table. Allie and the rest of the adroit were in the queue for the food.
I don’t know. Why’s your nose so fat? I thought. I simply responded, ‘Genetics. My maternal OME3A gene is defective, and my paternal copy is dormant.
’
‘Oh,’ she said clearly confused.
How come you don’t have any abilities? Why don’t you have any abilities? It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. It’s not as though I had a choice in the body I was born into. After hearing it a hundred times it becomes annoying. I didn’t see why I had to constantly have to justify my existence. Sure there was a medical explanation for my disorder, but it’s not as though people were genuinely interested in it. What annoyed me most about such questions was the tone. That poor you tone or that tone that made my condition sound so negative.
I came across an article once about how Ability Dysfunction affected personality. According to the article, research and statistics showed that people with ADSD: make less money. Get married later in life. Are more prone to aggressive out bursts, are less intelligent. The list went on but I shut my laptop at this point.
Allie, Izzy and Rory settled down with their lunch trays. Izzy held her phone to her ear. After a moment she put the phone down in disappointment.
‘Still nothing?’ Allie asked.
Izzy shook her head. ‘It’s not like him to skip school.’
Eric hadn’t shown up for school in two days. None of the adroit had heard from him.
***
Mum was consistent to a fault. She made sure dinner was cooked each night. She was also particular about having a proper dining setup. I couldn’t imagine where she got it though. My grandpa Henry passed away long before I was born. Mum used to tell me though that he was an adventurer and one of the most powerful teleporters. He had passed on while helping to evacuate people from a storm. My Grandma was reliable but she was also very relaxed and down to earth. From what I heard about my late grandpa Henry, he sounded laid back so I’m not sure where Mum got her diligence and persistence.
‘How’s Allie doing?’ Mum asked as I helped her set the table. ‘I haven’t seen her in a while.’
‘She’s all right,’ I responded.
***
I was collecting some books from my locker when Eric wandered towards Asher’s locker. His mind seemed to be on another planet. He was about to reach for the lock when he noticed me.
‘Hey,’ he said fidgeting with his hands.
‘Hi.’
He looked around then back at me as though he was about to say something before he walked away.
Eric was fairly quiet at lunch. The adroit conversation didn’t seem to interest him.
He didn’t sit at his usual spots in the back of the classrooms with the rest of the adroit either. He sat in the front row.
We were in English class when the intercom beeped, attracting everyone’s attention.
‘Attention all students,’ the principal’s voice boomed through the intercom. ‘I would like to request your prompt gathering in the auditorium. I call upon the teachers to please ensure all students are present in the auditorium.’
He repeated his message once more before the closing beep of the intercom.
Our English teacher, Mrs McKinley put down her book. ‘You heard the principal. Let’s all make our way to the auditorium.’
I slowly stood up and limped along while the rest of the students chaotically flocked to the exit.
‘Orderly,’ Mrs McKinley commanded.
Teachers stood at the entrance and back rows herding the students into the auditorium. When all the students were settled, I noticed a couple sitting beside the principal at the podium — Asher’s parents. I recognised them from the treatment centre. I sat in the same row as Allie and the adroit. Eric sat in another row in front of us.
There were whispers and speculations about the purpose of the assembly.
The principal spoke.
‘Thank you all for attending this assembly on such short notice.’
By his tone and demeanour, it was abundantly clear that this was no regular assembly. It was very serious. His tone was grave. I had only seen such an assembly once when one of the students passed away. Once When the adroit were called out for starting a food fight and forced to clean up the mess and Once when the principal asked us to pray for a kid that had been in an accident. He eventually made it through.
‘You are probably wondering why we are here,’ the principal said. ‘One of our brightest students, one of your peers has gone missing. His loving parents have reached out to our school. They are reaching out to you, his peers, to anyone who might know of his whereabouts to come forward. If you know where Asher might be or have any information, I urge you to come forward.’
Asher’s mother wept at the mention of his name. Eric stood up and left the auditorium.
Chapter 10
Once I fell into an abyss of sorrow and emptiness. I found myself in a place where the light never shown. Nothing grew. It was bleak. I didn’t see the point of anything. I barely ate. I barely spoke. The doctors said it was depression caused by an experimental drug. I was hospitalised for weeks.
Every morning a perky nurse, Carla would check up on me. She would ensure the blinds were open.
‘Rise and shine!’ she would say.
I would groan, squint and turn away from the light. Other times I would bury my head in my blankets.
‘You know for someone called Hope, you sure are pessimistic.’
I thought of myself as a realist.
‘Its a beautiful day for a walk.’
Ignored her. She might as well have been talking to a wall. She persisted. She came in the next day and opened the blinds as usual. ‘Rise and shine.’
I grimaced and covered my face. She sat on my bedside. ‘Bottling things up only makes them seam bigger than they are,’ she said. ‘It helps to talk. Writing my thoughts really helped me. I’ve seen it work wonders with patients. Simply documenting or journaling about your treatment can be beneficial.’
I felt the weight of the bed shift as she got up.
‘Today is officially my last day so I wont be seeing you for a while. Goodbye Hope. I really hope things work out for you.’
I lifted my blanket off my face. Carla was gone. Their was a journal and a set of bright coloured pens. Black red violet, orange and green.
I opened the journal.
There was a message written on the first page. It read: The patients I have worked with have shown me the miracle of life. I enjoy helping patients as a nurse I feel I could do more as a doctor. You are awesome Hope. Carla.
I set the journal aside. A new nurse came to check on me the next day. She wasn’t as perky as Carla. I picked up my journal that night and wrote. I wrote about the treatments and the side effects. As I wrote I felt a weight lift. By the end of my eight page entry I felt much lighter. From that day on I kept a journal. I had an entry aatleast once three times a week. When I had nothing to get off my chest I would doodle or jot doen ideas that that popped into my head or ideas about what I thought about certain books.
I initially kept the journal to document the treatment, but later began to document whole days and life in general. I found writing comforting and therapeutic. It helped clear my mind and make sense of things. I kept a couple of journals that ranged from my general experiences and thoughts to fiction and doodles.
***
I sat in bed journaling about the past few days. About Asher’s disappearance. About Allie being fixated on the adroit and Eric. I could barely write. I kept scratching my itching shoulder. It had been itching the entire day. I set my journal on my nightstand. As I jotted down my journal entry for the day, I found it impossible to concentrate. I continuously scratched my itchy left shoulder.
I examined the left side of my shoulder in the bathroom mirror. There was a dry patch and a rash developing.
***
There were missing posters of Asher posted around school the next day. I stopped and stared at one near the entrance.
What happened to you? I wondered. Asher didn’t strike me as the type to run away. If he did though, I wondered where he might have gone.
***
Eric s
tood at the dining hall stand as though contemplating where to sit.
‘Eric!’ Izzy called. She waved him over. He sat down between Izzy and Allie. He didn’t say a word.
‘Hey,’ Allie greeted.
‘Hey.’
‘He wasn’t a hundred per cent. He apparently had Hyper AD,’ Rory said.
‘That’s not true,’ I defended. ‘He had—’
The adroit ignored me.
‘Maybe the maladroit finally took the advice and got lost,’ Izzy mocked.
I was compelled to get up and leave. Being a part of the adroit wasn’t worth losing my morals. What do you see in these egotistic shallow heads, Allie? I thought. When will you wake up? Why couldn’t I get up and leave? Why was I not confident enough to be a rebel?
Eric did exactly what I couldn’t. He got up and walked away. His abrupt departure put an end to the snickering at the table.
‘Eric!’ Izzy called.
He didn’t respond.
‘Eric!’ she called again. He was oblivious.
‘Anyway,’ Izzy sighed. ‘You Know that new club the seniors have been going on about?’
I already knew where it was going before Allie responded. ‘Yeah.’
‘I was thinking how easy it would be for you to sneak in.’
‘Sure,’ Allie said without hesitation.
***
‘Eric has really been acting strange lately,’ Allie said when we were finally alone, walking to class. ‘I was sure he would ask me to the dance by now.’
It was the first time in weeks that I had her to myself. For a moment it felt like old times, but all she could talk about was Eric.
‘Hopefully, he comes to his senses tonight. Are you in?’ she asked.
The Allie I knew would never set foot in a nightclub. Aren’t you tired of always being the one to use your abilities for the adroit pleasure? I wanted to ask her.
‘I’m not feeling too hot,’ I lied.
I felt drained from the treatment, but not as much as I lead her to believe. How can I put it? I don’t exactly agree with your choice of friends! The voice inside me screamed. It’s not a real friendship. The adroit only showed interest in you when they noticed how useful your abilities were. Eric has not shown any interest in you personally, only in what you can do. I desperately wanted to tell her all this. The words pressed against my lips, ready to erupt like molten lava.
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