Arcadia's Gift Part 11

"I spent my high school years in and out of mental inst.i.tutions." Her shoulders shook from an involuntary shudder. "I had to get a GED, because sitting in a cla.s.sroom was too difficult for me. I wasn't as good at blocking thought feeds as I am now, and that made it hard to concentrate on the teachers."

Flashes of that emotional tornado from earlier popped into my head. Would I have to go through that every day until I graduated? What about college?

Jinx continued, "It was when I was staying in a group home in Oklahoma that I met another girl, Bridget, who also was a telepath and, like me, whose parents sent her away. The difference was Bridget's abilities were far more advanced than mine. She helped me by teaching me blocking techniques and how to focus on specific thought feeds. I don't know what I would have done without her."

"What happened to her... to Bridget?" I asked.

"She's married to an insurance agent and has three kids. They live in Atlanta or Macon or someplace like that. But in order for Bridget to live a normal life, she has almost completely given up her abilities. She's been blocking everything for so many years now she can't take the blocks off any more. Only rarely will a word or a phrase break through, and only from someone who is an extremely strong broadcaster."

I brightened. "That's great! You mean I can learn to block this out completely? You have to teach me! When do we get started?"

Jinx frowned and the crease between her brows deepened like a swollen river. "Cady, be careful to weigh all of your options before you decide to do something like that. Our abilities are gifts, and your gift is a part of you. Never be quick to give up a piece of yourself."

"Right," I said with a shrug. "I get to be the psychic equivalent of an emotional dumping ground and will probably end up as a suicidal alcoholic. Nope. The sooner I can block this stuff the better."

She didn't look very happy, but seemed resigned to let it go for now. Instead, she picked up one of those long candle lighters and began flicking it, watching the tiny licks of flame.

"So, what happened after you gained control over your abilities?" I asked. "Did your parents let you come home?"

"No," she replied with a sigh. "You see, my father is very...prominent. Back in the early eighties, he built a large technology company from the ground up and it was very successful. By the time I was eighteen, he and Millicent and their kids were like this big happy family where I just didn't fit anymore. Besides, Father was starting to get interested in politics. The last thing a politician needs is a crazy daughter running around ruining his image."

"So, what did you do then?"

Jinx inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out with a whoosh through her mouth blowing out the weak tongue of flame. She dropped the lighter back down on the end table. "Honestly? He bought me off."

"What do you mean?"

"My father set me up with a large trust fund under the condition that I disappear."

"Are you serious?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "It's not like we were close anyway. He worked constantly when I was growing up, and I never saw him. Millicent couldn't stand me and didn't want me around her kids. I figured I would just go off and start my own life, so I moved to Dubuque. The end."

I thought about my own parents and what it would be like without them. Sure, things were strained in my family now, but no matter what happens I know they love me. Whether they would believe that I'm an empath or not is another story. My mother is intensely skeptical about all things that can't be proven scientifically. My father might be more receptive, but it's hard to say.

"So, you just, like, live off your trust fund? Or do you work?" I asked.

"I never touch that money if I don't have to," she said with a tone that implied that money was tainted. "I live off of my gifts. I'm a life consultant."

"A what?"

"A life consultant, a therapist. I got my degree in counseling through an online program and now I meet with people who are having problems and give them advice."

"Lots of people are therapists. Where does the whole using your gift thing come in?"

"I listen to the things they aren't telling me. It makes me much more effective than a normal therapist. Most people censor their words, only speaking in partial truths. I'm not saying people are dishonest, just selective. My gift enables me to serve them better."

I shook my head in wonder. Outside the window, I spotted a sliver of moon in the inky black sky, reminding me of the time.

"It's getting late. I better get home before my mom worries."

Jinx grinned. "She's sleeping. Wish I could read dreams better. I'm seeing flashes of a s.h.i.+rtless Hugh Jackman."

Ew.

I stood and stretched.

Jinx walked with me outside where she bent to retrieve a soggy Shopper Stopper from the ground next to her steps.

"When do we begin?" I asked. "With the whole blocking thing? If I'm going to make it through high school, I have to find a way to ignore my cla.s.smates."

"I don't have regular work hours. I work by appointment only, and I always go to my client's homes. If my car is in the driveway, I'm home." She inclined her head toward a newer model VW Beetle parked a few yards away. "Feel free to stop by when you have time."

I gave one last wave to Jinx before she turned to go back inside, and I headed home.

Chapter 19.

After school the next day, I fumbled with the dead bolt lock on my front door. I was already inside, but couldn't get my key out. Lony and Aaron never had trouble with this lock, but for some reason, it just didn't like me.

The m.u.f.fled sound of Florence + The Machine began playing on my cell phone in my backpack. I let the keys dangle and dug it out.

"h.e.l.lo?" I answered, still concentrating on not breaking the key off in the door.

"Cady? It's Bryan. Is this a bad time?"

"No. I'm just getting home."

With a hard tug the key gave way, smas.h.i.+ng my elbow against the wall.

"Son of a -!" I censored myself just in time. I held the phone in the crook of my neck so I could rub my funny bone. "Ouch!"

"Are you okay?" Bryan asked. "What happened?"

"I'm alright," I groaned. "No big deal."

"Uh...do you have plans for dinner? Like with your family, I mean?" he asked.

"No. My mother hasn't been up for cooking much lately. Why?"

"My parents are going out with one of my dad's new clients. I was wondering if you wanted to go get pizza or something."

Whoa! Is he asking me on a date? My spine tingled at the thought. But what if I was overreacting? What if this was just a friends thing? Best to play it cool.

"Um...sure. Sounds good."

"Pick you up around six?"

We hung up, and I barreled up to my room. It was too early to get ready, so I dug out some homework to work on. Concentrating during school was a nightmare, so I had started putting in extra effort into my a.s.signments at home in order to make decent grades.

At school that day, I thought a lot about the whole empath thing and that storm of emotions that overcame me whenever I was around people. As much as I didn't want to believe it, Jinx was right. I was picking up on the feelings of others. For example, I used the bathroom pa.s.s during study hall, and when I entered there was a freshman girl splas.h.i.+ng water on her face at the sink. She'd been crying and her mascara streaked down her cheeks like skid marks. I didn't mean to gawk at her, but the vibrations of anger rolling off of her and into me glued my feet to the spot. Gooseb.u.mps rose on my arms as the sinking feeling of betrayal coursed through me. I knew for sure these emotions were not coming from me. Two minutes earlier, I had been walking down the hallway humming along with a song stuck in my head. When the crying girl noticed me, she glared at me through the mirror and stormed out in a huff, followed by her cloud of cold rage.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I really needed to put this empathy stuff aside for a while and get some school work done.

When my history a.s.signment was finished, I stood and stretched. The emotional tornado was taking its toll on my muscles, filling me with tension. I yanked out the band holding my ponytail, brushed my hair out and slid a thin headband in to keep it out of my eyes. Other than some light lip gloss, I hadn't worn makeup to school. I wondered whether I should at least brush some mascara on or something. Jeez, it's just pizza! I scolded myself. It's not like this is a date...is it?

I left my jeans on, but traded my "Buffy staked Edward" t-s.h.i.+rt and hoodie for a light green peasant blouse. I surveyed myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Nice enough, but still casual. From my school bag, I took some cash out and tucked it into my jeans pocket. As much as Lony had tried to make me, I never took to carrying a real purse.

The doorbell rang. I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, and to my horror, my mother was standing with the door open looking at Bryan s.h.i.+ft his weight from foot to foot. Thankfully, she wasn't in her bathrobe, but a pair of yoga pants and a t-s.h.i.+rt. I cringed at the sight of her matted hair on the back of her head.

"Mom," I called out, hurrying down the stairs. "This is my friend, Bryan Sullivan...from school. Bryan, this is my mom."

My mother turned at my voice and looked at me funny, almost like she couldn't remember how she got there. "Oh..."

"We're going to go get some pizza. Do you want me to bring you anything back?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry." She started to trudge up the steps toward her bedroom, but as an afterthought she added, "Don't stay out late."

I watched my mother disappear around the corner with my jaw hanging open. Are you kidding me? Whether it was a real date or not, this was the first time a boy picked me up to take me out to dinner -other than Shawn anyway, and he didn't really count. I guess I'd have thought my mother might take a bit more interest. After all, Bryan could be a meth addict or a convicted felon for all she knew. When Lony first started seeing Cane, my parents insisted on getting to know him before they would let her go off with him alone. For two weeks, he had to endure awkward family dinners and watching TV with Lony in the den while my parents wandered in and out like an Army patrol to make sure they maintained clothes on and hands visible at all times. It's not that I wanted Bryan to have to suffer through an embarra.s.sing third degree. I just thought she would have cared more, that's all.

"Ready?" Bryan asked, holding the door open for me. I could feel his nervous energy tingling my skin. I rubbed my arms briskly.

"Sure," I replied, brus.h.i.+ng past him out the door. I smelled the light spicy scent of cologne and smiled. He normally didn't bother. I was glad I gave in and brushed on mascara.

"So," he asked, opening the car door for me. "Where is the best pizza in Dubuque?"

"Oh, easy. Happy Joe's."

"Happy Joe's it is then."

Bryan circled the vehicle and got in. When he twisted the key in the ignition music blasted out of the speakers and he fumbled to turn it down.

"Sorry," he said with an embarra.s.sed grin. "I like it loud when I'm alone."

"No prob. I do the same thing," I replied. "What group is this?"

"It's my cousin's band, Crescendo. He's the drummer. They play small venues in the Portland and Seattle areas. This is their demo."

"Not bad," I said bobbing my head a bit with the beat.

I directed Bryan to the pizza place. We ordered my favorite, half taco/half BLT. Bryan cringed when I told him the BLT side used mayo in place of pizza sauce, but his att.i.tude changed once he took a bite.

"I'm not a vegetarian exactly," I explained, plucking the sausage bits off of my slice, "I just don't really like meat very much. It's a taste thing more than a moral thing."

"So you don't eat steak?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I tried a bite of my dad's once, but didn't care for it."

"More for me, I guess." He reached for his second slice. "I'm not picky with food at all. My mother is the must-clean-your-plate type. I learned a long time ago that if I didn't want to end up having my dinner for breakfast the next morning, I better get it over with and eat it while it's fresh."

We chatted easily through dinner, but when Bryan got up to order us some ice cream sundaes, Jinx cropped back up into my mind. All through dinner I had been trying to pay attention to my emotions and the people around me, but I couldn't tell if I was reading people right. In the car, Bryan had seemed nervous, but I wasn't picking any of that up from him now. In general, I was feeling happy and calm. How did I know that was my real feelings or if they were coming from someone else near me? What kind of range did this empathy thing have anyway?

Across the dining room, I spotted a toddler who was throwing some kind of tantrum. His face was red and he wailed at the top of his lungs. The young mother kept trying to shove ice cream in his mouth to shut him up, but all that did was cause melted ice cream drool to run down his chin and neck. It gave me an idea for an experiment.

I checked on Bryan and saw he was still waiting to place our order. I stood and started walking toward the little boy, going slowly enough that I could concentrate on any feelings I might be able to pick up from him, yet fast enough so that it would look like I was casually heading toward the restroom.

Twenty feet from the boy and I felt nothing.

At fifteen feet, I bent down to pretended to tie my shoe. The feelings of general happiness were faded, but I wasn't necessarily picking up on anything negative. I stood up and began walking forward again.

At ten feet, I stopped next to an empty table and picked up the menu lying on it. A stirring began in my belly that had nothing to do with the pizza I'd just ate. My face started to heat up and uneasiness crept over me. As I pretended to be checking the specials, I concentrated on the cool waves of feeling I was getting from the toddler's direction. There was anger and frustration...a little bit of discomfort too. Of course, the frustration could have been coming from the mother also, who was digging in her diaper bag for something to appease her child.

Just as I was setting the menu down to step closer, a freezing jolt shot through me as the boy lifted his fork and threw it as hard as he could onto the floor where it bounced and landed a few feet in front of me. A clear and distinct shock of rage ran through my body and settled somewhere deep inside me. I gasped audibly. The mother apologized as she came over to retrieve the fork, but I could only nod with my mouth hanging open dumbly.

Oh. My. G.o.d. Jinx was right. I guess up until that moment I hadn't fully believed her, but standing there with my head throbbing with a cold headache and my nerves on edge, I had to admit there was something weird going on. The little boy watched me with big brown eyes, his rosy cheeks tear stained and drool running from his lower lip. He didn't feel as upset anymore. I guess throwing the fork got whatever it was out of his system. The mother glanced up at me and flashed a wave of embarra.s.sment mixed with confusion. I pivoted and returned to our table.

I buried my face on my hands, squeezing my eyes shut so hard I could see spots swimming in the blackness. What does this mean? What am I supposed to do now? I didn't want to go through life experiencing the emotions of everyone around me! How am I supposed to go into a crowded situation like a concert or a movie theater ever again without turning into a complete head-case? Oh, no. How am I going to be able to handle school? A groan escaped the back of my throat.

"You okay?" Bryan asked, a cool brush of concern touching my body.

I jerked my head up to see him setting our sundaes down on the table. "I'm fine," I said, managing a weak smile. "Just a bit of a headache."

His forehead wrinkled. "Do you want me to take you home?" The vibrations of his concern increased.

"No, I'll be okay." Forcing a fake smile, I dipped my spoon into the chocolate ice cream with warm peanut b.u.t.ter topping and took a small bite. "Ice cream cures headaches, you know. It's scientifically proven."

"Mmmm..." he replied, swallowing the cherry from the top of his banana split. "I always knew ice cream had to be good for me. What else can it do? Cure the common cold?" The coolness of his concern warmed into something more pleasant.

I nodded. "It's good for colds...the flu too. Also, sprained ankles, upset stomachs and gout."

"Gout?" he laughed. "In that case, I think I'll have my mother stock up our freezer with Rocky Road. I wouldn't want to come down with gout."

I watched Bryan as he talked and ate his sundae in large, enthusiastic bites. When he smiled I noticed one of his teeth was a bit crooked, overlapping the one next to it. It's funny how an imperfection like that can add so much character to someone's face. He had a b.u.mp on the top of his nose. And a tiny mole at the base of his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The skin of his neck looked so soft. I wondered what it would be like to press my lips against it. My gaze lifted and I realized Bryan had stopped talking and was looking at me curiously. I was pretty sure my face was as red as a tomato.

"What are you staring at?" he asked. "Do I have hot fudge on my face or something?" He wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"No...I'm sorry." I shook my head, feeling like an idiot. I stirred my ice cream slowly to have something else to focus on.

"I don't mind, you know...you looking at me, I mean."

A shock of invisible electricity jumped between us, making my heart pound. I peered up from under my lashes to see him grinning at me. The heat in his eyes matched the warmth I was picking up from his soul, causing my palms to go damp.