Voyance
“Even Here, Some Secrets Remain Unseen”
By
Rhonda Brutt
Smashwords Edition
Brighton Publishing LLC
Chandler, Arizona
Voyance
Published by Brighton Publishing LLC
501 W. Ray Rd.
Suite# 4
Chandler, AZ 85225
ISBN 978-1-936587-10-0
E-Book
Copyright 2011
Cover Design by
Patricia McNaught-Foster
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Dedication
“To my sisters, Karen and Lori. Though separated by many miles, you are both always close to my heart.”
* * *
Prologue
I sort of remember the first time I did it . . . the first time I could see . . . the first time I knew. I was only a little child, so it didn’t seem strange to me. What did I know? Nothing seems odd when you are small.
My mother was in law school, a tough road for a single parent. Someone had dropped off a box of donated clothes for me that autumn morning because her finances were tight. Mom took it into the kitchen, eager to explore its contents. I was curious about these new clothes, but it was still early. I didn’t want to force my feet out of bed, and onto the chilly floor.
She took the first item out. I pulled the blankets over my head and closed my eyes tightly. In that moment, I became aware that if I just concentrated, I wouldn’t have to go to the other room to see what she was holding. It only took me a second or so to focus and then the picture appeared in my head. It was no big deal to me; it was just a red shirt. I think it had a reindeer on the pocket. I liked it, but I loudly informed her it wasn't Christmas yet. She grabbed something else from out of the box. I looked inside my head again. It was a hideous looking green shirt. I hollered to her that it was ugly. I kept my eyes closed as I mentally scrutinized each piece that she pulled out of the carton. I was fairly accurate, especially for a child who had never displayed any other talent whatsoever.
My mother was completely blown away when she realized I wasn't in the room with her. How could I see this stuff? What was happening? I was just glad I didn't have to get out of bed. My mom told me later she was puzzled, amazed and frightened, all at the same time.
At first, she tried to ignore the things I could see, the things I knew, hoping that I would too. It wasn’t as if I could just forget about it. Psychic ability like that follows you everywhere. It became a part of me. It defined me. As I grew, she wanted it to stop; it needed to disappear. I had to keep the attention away from myself. It was the only way she could see my life being normal.
“Keep it a secret,” she would say to me. “Stop showing off; don’t ever do that again,” she would repeat, until my head would spin. When I started Junior High, my abilities magnified even more. It was impossible for me not to continue. I tested my boundaries. What could my mind actually do?
I was different—very different; and, I both loved and hated myself for it at the same time. More than anything else, I wanted desperately to confide in someone; someone my age—someone like me.
Chapter One
“A Foreign Terrain”
“All right,” my mother asked. “What’s up?” Her voice interrupted the strained silence that hung between us. “What kind of car is this?” I asked blandly. I did not want to talk to her, especially after spending four hours sitting next to her on a plane.
“It’s a rental car, and I know you don’t care. Emma, what's wrong? You have barely spoken since we left Minnesota.” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice.
I looked out of the window. I wished I could have been anywhere else, rather than sitting in this hot vehicle. The air conditioner struggled to keep up with the Florida heat, and my legs felt as if they were stuck to the vinyl seat. We were heading to what was to become my new home, and I was not pleased with this decision at all.
I was accepted to a private and unique school. It had been created specifically for students who demonstrated abilities like mine, abilities that defied logic. They were abilities that had no rational explanation. Abilities that, even if you witnessed them with your own eyes, you probably wouldn’t have believed. This was going to be weird because I had always just assumed I was alone.
“What do you think is wrong, Mom? You’re taking me to jail. It’ll probably be more like a lock-down facility than a school,” I muttered.
“As usual, you are being dramatic. It’s a high school, not a prison, and no one is going to lock you up,” she replied firmly.
“This is not how things are supposed to be. I should be starting my senior year of high school at home, not thousands of miles away,” I quickly retorted.
“You saw the school’s website. It looks very nice,” she added, trying to reassure me.
“A website can make a landfill look attractive, so I’m not exactly hopeful,” I shot back. Clearly, this conversation was going nowhere.
The irony of my situation was that there were probably a lot of seventeen year olds who had lived their whole lives in Minneapolis that would jump at moving to Florida; especially since they could be without any parents around, for a whole year. I had a few friends I would miss being around, but besides them, what was I honestly leaving behind? Not a boyfriend, that’s for sure. Guys just never seemed to be interested in me. Of course, my shyness probably didn’t help. I didn’t expect things to be much different here. I sighed at that depressing thought.
As a child, I discovered that there were things I could do that other people could not. My grandmother called it a gift. She had high hopes for my future. Depending on how one looked at it, being born with psychic ability could be either a curse, or a blessing. I viewed it as a little bit of both.
Hoping that one day it would just go away, denial was my mother's coping mechanism for my unusual ability. When that didn’t happen, she would scold, beg, and even resort to bribery in an attempt to make me stop using it. I think she saw this school as a last chance for me, to become normal . . . whatever normal meant.
Mom gushed for weeks about how wonderful this opportunity was. I was so lucky this school found me, she had said. I still couldn’t figure that one out. Did schools participate in a national database for freaks?
Well, she would be lucky, that’s for sure. I’d be gone. No more phone calls from my old school to upset her, no more weird remarks from people; but above all, I wouldn’t be able to cheat anymore.
I was bored out of my mind in high school. There was no motivation for someone like me who could easily see the answers. I used this to my advantage, a lot. I hadn’t been able to help myself. Why—if they don't have to—would anyone study? Now I’d probably fail at everything—not that I was stupid, mind you. Since I could visualize the answers, and they accidentally popped into my brain, school seemed pointless to me. I even cheated at “cheating”. So no one would catch on, I would purposely miss a few questions. My mother, however, was well aware of what was going on.
I never did any homework.
I never read any material.
I had become a major slacker.
Then, there was my social life, or rather, my lack of one. I had a hard time in that department. I thought I could tell what people were thinking. More often than not, however, I was wrong. This made making—and keeping—friends somewhat awkward for me. Finding this school seemed like a miracle to my mother. She already knew I was smart; cheating was just convenient. She knew I was shy, for she had taught me how to hide. Mostly, however, she knew I needed help.
As the miles slipped away, so did civilization. Even the endless condominiums were slowly disappearing from the highway. I decided to make one last ditch attempt to get my mother to turn the car around and head home.
“There’s nothing out here, Mom. I’ll be trapped. Can’t you just take me back home, please?” I complained.
“You will not be trapped, Emma. I’m sure you will meet people who have cars, and you’ll get used to the distance. This discussion is finished. You will be staying. You can come home at Christmas.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh . . . Christmas. That seemed light years away.
“You belong here sweetheart. You can be with others of your own kind,” she added, trying to sound positive. It was not a good choice of words on her part, however, and I jumped on it.
“And what kind is that, Mom?” I asked sarcastically.
“You know what I mean,” she replied with a certain calmness in her voice.
It was pointless for me to argue with her. She was an attorney; she didn’t back down, ever. “There’s the ocean.” She pointed out the car’s window after we turned off the main highway.
I stretched up in the seat to look out over the low-lying dunes. I had never seen the ocean before, only lakes. Mom slowed the car down temporarily so we could get a better look.
“When I lived in Florida, I never got tired of driving to the beach,” she said quietly.
I had to admit I could see why. It was beautiful. Huge swells rolled in, breaking when they hit the shore. Birds glided effortlessly right above the water. Far off on the horizon, we could see a few boats. As we continued along the oceanfront road, an occasional private residence would appear.
“Homes here on the Atlantic must cost a fortune now,” my mother mumbled to herself.
Even though we were not poor anymore, I suddenly felt as if we were. The road seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of us. Just how far away from everything was this place? Was this school trying to hide, or what? She finally slowed the car down.
“Here we are, at last,” she announced cheerfully.
As we passed through the main gate, I saw a large sign that read, Welcome to Voyance. We had arrived. Boarding school . . . and, it was out in the middle of nowhere. This was just great.
My mother pulled into a parking area. She stopped in front of an elegant building marked “Administration.” There was plenty of activity going on around us. Students and parents were unloading suitcases and boxes from vehicles. Smiles and laughter rang out as people greeted each other. Chatter was everywhere.
“I’ve been practicing all summer, we are going to cream you guys in volleyball!” someone said.
“Did you get that new Xbox game?” I heard as we got out of our vehicle.
Everyone seemed to know everyone else; except of course, for me.
“Just grab one suitcase for now, until we find out where you’re going. See how normal everything looks. Isn’t this exciting, sweetheart? It’s just like starting college!”
I trudged behind her into the main building and decided not to answer. This seemed terribly unfair. I was in a horrible mood. It was bad enough I only had a few friends at home; now I wouldn’t have any. I gave her the silent treatment. That usually got to her. I wanted her to be as miserable as I was, but of course, she wasn’t.
The school’s secretary led us through a set of beautiful mahogany doors just off the lobby and asked us to wait. I had to remind myself to close my mouth. I’d never seen an office like this before. Two of the walls were made entirely of glass doors that were pushed back into their frames. They allowed a light ocean breeze to cross through the room, despite the late-afternoon heat. An enormous desk sat facing us, and behind it, the walls were lined with dark wooden cabinets. The opposite wall had large shelves filled with dozens of books. Accentuating the oversized, stuffed chairs we sat down on were tropical plants and African art pieces scattered about the office. Circling above us was the largest ceiling fan I had ever seen.
“This place reminds me of that movie Casablanca. I feel as if we’re in Morocco,” my mother said quietly as she leaned close to me.
I watched as she continued glancing around at the room. She was probably thinking of how much her own office needed remodeling. She liked watching those decorating shows on TV. I hoped the thought of her cluttered, tacky office made her uncomfortable.
From behind us, a sturdy voice said, “Good afternoon.” My mother and I stood up as an older gentleman hurried in and shook my mother's hand—and then mine, warmly.
“I am Dr. Weber, the school’s administrator. Mrs. Patterson, it is so nice to meet you; and, of course, you must be Emma. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“So this is the principal’s office?” I asked weakly.
“I guess you could call it that. Well, sit down, sit down,” his said with a smile.
“My father founded this school when I was a youth. He wanted to advance the scientific research into the unusual phenomenon called Extrasensory Perception—or ESP, for short. He also hoped to create an environment for students such as myself to learn and succeed, away from the eyes of those who would never understand. I was in the very first graduating class from this academy,” he announced proudly.
“So, you can see things too?” I asked timidly.
“That’s why he named it Voyance. Voyance is derived from the French word clairvoyance, meaning clear vision. Not the kind of vision that comes from your eyes, but the kind that comes from within—the kind that few people will ever know. And yes, Emma . . . I share your talent as well,” he said nonchalantly.
My mother shifted in her seat. She was never comfortable with this subject. Telepathy was a bad word in her vocabulary.
“Did you know,” Dr. Weber began, “research has indicated that all children are born with some clairvoyant abilities? Most of these children, however, lose those abilities as they grow older.”
I shook my head no. I had never even considered this a possibility.
“Other researchers believe it can be developed, and then fine-tuned. Of course, there are those who believe there is no scientific evidence to support ESP whatsoever.”
Yep, for years that’s what my mom had been hoping. Too bad I always proved her wrong.
“Nevertheless, almost half of all Americans do believe it exists,” he continued.
That probably explains why those psychic hotlines are so popular, I thought. It was hard to find a magazine that didn’t have at least one ad for them in their back pages.
“Actually, not all of the students enrolled here have ESP, or even demonstrate any psychic abilities. Some are simply here because we are the only boarding school in the area. Does that surprise you?” he inquired.
“It takes a lot to surprise me,” I answered dryly, “for obvious reasons.”
Dr. Weber smiled knowingly at my answer.
“There was a time when the school was smaller, that we didn’t accept anyone without ESP. It’s expensive, however, to run a high school, so most of the student body is without psychic talent. We need the financial support of these students in order to survive. Please know that all of the students who attend here are aware of our research program concerning ESP. Your skills will be highly regarded by your peers. For any student to force you to use them is strictly forbidden.”
After a moment of silence, Dr. Weber rose from his seat and poured each of us a glass of water.
“Here you are; you’re thirsty,” he announced as he handed my mother her glass.
“Oh yes, I’m parched, thank you . . . how did you know?” she asked absently.
“Do not answer that one; she won’t like your answer. Trust me, I know,” I thought to myself as I took a sip. Dr. Weber chuckled slightly under his breath and tipped his head to give me a quizzical look. What? Did he hear me? I hadn’t said anything. Well, I hadn’t said anything out loud anyways.
“Some of our students do come to us from families who hope their children will learn how to develop psychic talents while they are here,” he continued as he sat back down.
I glanced sideways at my mother. I could tell this conversation was not sitting well with her. Good, I thought.
“Why would anyone want a person to learn that?” I asked.
“Well, maybe because they want their son or daughter to win the lottery for them or something of that nature,” he suggested, giving me a wink.
My mom must have already told him about my grandmother; great, I thought. Grandma had always meant well, but she had also encouraged less than honest behavior, on my part, particularly when scratch-off lottery tickets were involved. “Can ordinary people learn how to do this?” I asked him.
“That depends on who you ask. I believe sometimes it can be developed, but more often than not, that isn’t likely. However, back when I became director of Voyance, I took it upon myself to form a collaborative partnership between the school and a renowned scientific organization. We attempt to study every aspect of this unusual phenomenon in our students. We are still trying to determine whether it can be learned, or whether a genetic component is involved. Our lead researcher, Dr. Schmidt believes he is very close to an answer,” he said proudly. “Of course,” he continued, “it goes without saying then, that we do have several students here such as you Emma, with documented advanced telepathic and clairvoyant abilities. Therefore, you will not be alone here. I promise you.”
I wouldn’t be alone here. Were there others who had my uncanny ability to pick out the cereal box with the winning game piece inside? Had their mothers also made them rip up their winning pieces and toss them in the trash so they couldn’t collect any prizes? I wanted to talk with them if that were the case; we could compare notes. Maybe enrolling at this place was a good idea after all.
“There aren’t as many highly developed students enrolled here now as there were years ago. I personally blame the cell phones you kids are so fond of; you lose so much eye contact nowadays.” His voice told me that he was teasing, although I probably did need to work on the eye contact thing.
“While you attend school here, you may decide you wish to magnify your abilities. We have a small team of researchers who can show you how. We also have students, however, who want to learn to keep their talents under control, or suppress them entirely. We are dedicated to helping you make the right decisions. It is your journey, after all.” Dr. Weber spoke sincerely. He did not seem judgmental, in spite of his obvious authority here. I found myself beginning to like him.
“Can someone really learn to stop it?” I asked hopefully.
“Probably not entirely. I think the word ‘control’ better describes it rather than ‘stop.’ It can become a choice, actually. But, one that must never be taken lightly,” he answered. “Well, let’s give you a tour shall we?” He gestured, as he rose from behind his desk, for my mother and me to follow him. He told us to hold on, however, when he noticed my suitcase. He went into the hallway and hollered loudly, “Alex!” A tall young man entered the office.
“This is my son, Alex. He is a student here and a senior like you. Alex, this is one of our new students, Emma Patterson, and her mother.”
Alex nodded and murmured, “Hello.”
“Would you please take Miss Patterson’s suitcase over to the dormitory? Rachel can show you which room she’s been assigned.”
Alex picked up my suitcase.
“Man, this is heavy. What do you have in here?” he asked.
“Oh, you know—the usual. A crystal ball, tarot cards, the works,” I answered.
“Emma, don’t start,” my mother said sternly.
Alex smiled sideways at me.
My mother was always so serious and such a stiff at times. She was constantly trying to make a good impression, no matter where she was. As for me, I wasn’t sure there was anyone at this school worth impressing; at least, not yet.
We left the office, and it certainly didn’t look as if Alex had any issues with the weight of my suitcase. His shoulders were wide and his arms looked muscular. As we all walked down the sidewalk together, a disturbing thought suddenly dawned on me: How many students would be able to know what I was thinking now? Even if there weren’t many who could do it, wouldn't someone here be able to see inside my head, eventually? I shuddered at that possibility. Could I clear my mind, keeping my thoughts to myself? I wasn’t sure.
Chapter Two
“Dancing in Waves”
The school’s grounds were spectacular. My bad mood continued to lift rapidly. The lawns and gardens were perfectly groomed; tropical plants and shrubs were everywhere, but I did not recognize even one of them. Dr. Weber showed us the library, classrooms, and labs. Everything was far more modern than the stuff I was used to at my old school.
The basketball and tennis courts looked brand new. The student commons area was shaded with palm trees, and the patio furniture looked comfortable. There was indoor seating for the cafeteria, but I could not fathom why anyone would want to sit inside, except of course for the stifling heat that surrounded us. At least there was a breeze coming off the ocean, so eating outside would probably be bearable, despite the temperature. Alex left us and headed in the other direction with my suitcase. I wanted to follow him, or at least follow my stuff, but Dr. Weber clearly wasn’t finished with our visit. We continued down the school’s boardwalk and just before we got to the low seawall that separated the beach from the grassy lawn, we saw a large outdoor amphitheater off to the left, hidden in part by the thick tropical trees.
“We have concerts and programs here throughout the year. Do you play any instruments Emma?” Dr. Weber asked.
“No, but I like music. I don’t watch much television,” I stated matter-of-factly.
“The sign of an intelligent mind,” he nodded approvingly.
Dr. Weber seemed all right. At least he wasn’t critical. Very few adults ever earned my respect, but there was something about the man that I liked. I couldn't figure it out.
“My son is very musically inclined. He plays a number of instruments. As did his mother.”
I detected a hint of sadness in his voice when he spoke of her in the past tense. However, he didn't say anything more about her.
“You certainly have a lovely campus,” my mother said as we surveyed the school’s oceanfront area.
“Yes, we have plenty of amenities. That is our fire pit, and over there is our volleyball court. "During the year, a lot of fierce competition goes on there,” Dr. Weber smiled at me. “You'll see."
Two small sailboats were securely tied down in the sand. I hoped those belonged to the school too, but I thought it might be too bold for me to ask. Did I really expect a high school to own catamarans?
The last stop on our tour was the student dormitory.
“Our dorm is co-ed,” he stated.
“And that means . . .?” I honestly didn’t know.
“Girls live on one floor, boys on the next, and so on. The upper classmen have the ocean front rooms while the lower classmen’s rooms face west toward the school grounds,” he continued while pointing.
“You have been assigned to the first floor. I hope you don’t mind the corner room,” he continued.
When Dr. Weber unlocked and opened the door, a blast of cool air hit us. This was a welcome relief. I was starting to think I would need a towel. My hair was damp with sweat and plastered against my face. I peered inside the room and could hardly believe what I saw.
“This is really something,” I stated. Could they tell I was shocked?
“Yes, this room looks as if it belongs in a five star hotel, not a school,” my mother added through pursed lips as she surveyed my living quarters.
There was two of everything: beds, dressers, desks, and computers. The closet, which I’d have to share, was spacious, and the bathroom had a whirlpool tub. This place spared no expense. It was top notch all the way. Even the draperies and bedspreads matched the carpeting and walls. The sliding glass doors at the end of the room opened out onto a small patio, since the room was on the ground level. The rooms up above us all had balconies.
“Mom, look at the view! It’s gorgeous!” I gasped.
I never dreamed I’d have a bedroom with a view of the ocean! It was almost too much to absorb. I vaguely thought of pinching myself to wake up, but decided against it. If this were a dream, I didn’t want it to end. Yes, I could definitely get used to this place, quickly.
“Look, my other suitcase and my backpack that we left in the car are already here,” I said to my mother. I was a little surprised by this actually.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I wondered how they had gotten there. Alex left the office with only one of my suitcases. Well, it was a school for psychics, so that probably explained it. They knew where the rest of my stuff was.
Nevertheless, how would someone have unlocked the car? Even I couldn’t do that with my mind. Could others?
A young woman appeared in the door behind us. “Hi, I’m Rachel,” she said, introducing herself. She eagerly shook my mother’s hand and then turned to me.
“I’m one of the resident counselors here. My room is just down the hall from yours. If you need anything at all, just let me know,” she informed me.
“I’ll be going now,” Dr. Weber announced. “Rachel can give you the lowdown on our dorm living here at Voyance,” he added before he left.
Rachel turned towards my mother. As if sensing her apprehension, she said, “I used to be a former student here myself, so, I definitely know the ropes. I can assure you, Mrs. Patterson, that Resident Counselor is far too fancy a title for me. I am really the hall monitor, and I keep these girls in line!”
Just what I needed: a parole officer, I thought. Worse than that, she was a parole officer so full of energy; she acted as if she would bounce off the walls.
“Here, this is for you,” Rachel said as she handed me a booklet. “It’s our new student handbook. You will want to make sure you read it, because it has all of the rules and information you will need to know about living and learning here at Voyance.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as I absently flipped through a few pages. It looks like great reading material for an insomniac. Maybe I would have to try reading the pamphlet one night when I had problems sleeping. Reading about rules always had that effect on me; they tended to put me to sleep.
“Your roommate won’t arrive until tomorrow. Since you arrived here first, you can choose which side of the room you want. I’m sure Kristen won’t mind. She’s very easygoing. You are going to love her!” Rachel continued.
I certainly hoped I would. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I would soon be living with someone else in the same room.
“Also, since today is Saturday, there will be seafood served in the cafeteria. It’s everyone’s favorite meal of the week. Make sure you look for me. I’ll save you a place. I remember all too well how it felt when I first came here,” she added kindly.
I decided not to tell her that I didn’t eat seafood, or any meat for that matter. I was a vegetarian. If she were telepathic, she would figure it out anyway. I was glad for the supper invitation, though, because I might not feel so out of place then.
After Rachel left us, my mom helped me unpack. She expressed her uneasiness over my somewhat luxurious living conditions. She started giving me that lecture that all parents eventually give their kids: the one about how when she was in high school there was no carpeting on the floors, no air conditioning, and certainly no beach right outside the back doors. I wanted to ask her if she had walked to classes, uphill, both ways, but decided it was probably best not to push it.
“I just wish I knew if leaving you here alone might be a mistake,” she said hesitantly.
“Well, this whole thing was your idea, not mine,” I shot back.
“Maybe you are a little too young for this school after all,” her voice trailed off.
“What? I’m a senior. I’ll be eighteen in February! What are you talking about, Mom? There are ninth graders here! Mom, seriously, I’ll be fine!”
I was exasperated. She hadn’t cared about dumping me here earlier. What was her problem with this place now? Suddenly, this seemed hard for her. That was odd, because she normally kept her emotions in check. In the course of an afternoon, we had switched places. She wasn’t convinced I should stay, and now, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t feel sorry for her though; she had insisted I attend this school and now here we were. I gave her the chance to turn around and go back earlier today, and she blew it. Now that, I’d seen Voyance, I was definitely not getting back on that plane with her. I wanted to live next to the ocean for a while. A change might be just what I needed. I was staying; of that, I was certain.
Worry must have started to set in because she started reminding me about locking the doors, carrying my cell phone, swimming with a buddy, and all that stuff parents feel you need to hear repeatedly until your brain hurts. It took some control on my part, but I did not roll my eyes at her. The best I could do was to ask her to chill and assure her I would be fine. The fact that she was leaving me out in the middle of nowhere didn’t even give her any peace of mind. How could anyone get into trouble when there was nothing around, or maybe she hadn’t thought of that?
“Promise me you’ll check in with me now and then. Call me anytime. You know how to get ahold of me,” she added before leaving.
“I’ll call you. Relax. Nothing’s going to happen,” I promised.
There were no tears as we said our goodbyes. She had to get going; her return flight to Minneapolis was early the next morning. I promised I’d give the academic thing here my best shot. As I closed the door behind her, I realized that a new chapter of my life was beginning, vastly different from anything I previously ever experienced. It could be anything I chose to make it. I decided right then and there that I would choose wisely. No matter how hard it might be. Change could be good.
Glancing at the clock by my bed, I saw it was time for supper. Although I would have preferred to skip it, I was ravenous. I was going to need food at some time, so, avoiding the cafeteria was not going to be a likely option. Besides, Rachel said she would be expecting me, so my fear of having to eat alone wasn’t warranted.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that my hair had curled up uncontrollably. Humidity always made my hair curl, and I hated it. I needed a shower, but there wasn’t time. I changed into a tank top. Maybe I won’t be so hot wearing this, I thought. I headed to the dining hall and got into a short line. The food did look tasty, minus the seafood of course. Rachel saw me and motioned me over. She introduced me to the girls that were sitting with her. They greeted me, asked a few questions, but then returned to their previous conversation regarding the news and gossip that had occurred over the summer.
Being new to the school, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was uncomfortable. My self-consciousness got the better of me. I ate quickly and excused myself. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed as if there were many eyes watching me while I had been sitting there. I guess I was the only new senior here, so naturally they would stare. Still, I wondered if any of them knew how I felt. Were there any exceptionally telepathic students here who could read my mind? That thought unnerved me. I didn’t want anyone to know what I thought. What if they told other students what I was thinking? In spite of the tank top and shorts I had on, I suddenly felt naked.
I decided to go for a walk rather than go back to my room. My muscles were cramped from the long trip, and the beach looked inviting. I took my sandals off and left them on the seawall. It would be easier to walk along the water’s edge barefoot. The sun began sinking, but I didn't notice the time. I was caught up in the way the sand felt between my toes. The feeling of the water as it rushed over my feet made the passing of the evening unimportant. I looked up and down the shoreline, relieved to find that I had the beach all to myself. My thoughts drifted to home. Less than twelve hours ago, I was still in Minnesota; it already felt as if I had been gone forever. A small twinge of sadness started to creep over me. Maybe a little splashing around in the ocean would cheer me up. Since I had shorts on, it wouldn’t hurt to wade in just to the bottom of them. The water was warm, almost too warm. Small waves broke around my thighs, and the bottom of my shorts got damp.
I was amused by the little fish that came in with each wave and then frantically swam back out as the water receded.
I stood still, letting the waves hit my legs. I kicked water into the air, feeling like a kid again. I began to sing very loudly, which always lifted my mood instantly. I soon discovered that if I stood very still, my feet would sink further and further down into the soft sand until they were buried up to my ankles. I lost track of time. It felt so good to be there. I never experienced a high like this before; my first time in the ocean.
“Having fun?”
Startled, I jumped and whirled around. A voice from behind me interrupted my daydreaming. I wrongly assumed that I was alone, for there stood Alex, Dr. Weber’s son. His hands were in his pockets and he stood facing me. I must have been entertaining him, because he had a quirky smile on his face.
“Um, yeah, I am actually,” I stuttered.
I probably looked ridiculous standing there playing in the surf like a little girl.
“Hey watch out,” he hollered.
Unfortunately, his warning came too late. A small, rough wave came up from behind me. It hit my legs hard, right above the knees, throwing me off balance. I tumbled over. I tried to stand up quickly, but the undertow prevented this. I stumbled again. This time I plowed head first into the shallow water and sand.
“Here, let me help you,” he said as he reached for me.
By then I managed to stagger back up to my feet. My mouth was full of sand. Water and grit dripped from my hair. Alex held onto my arm, steadying me. I bent over forward and tried to talk as I gagged and spit.
“Ugh, it’s, it’s so salty,” I finally got out.
“Duh, of course it’s salty; it’s the ocean,” Alex laughed.
“Yeah I know that. I just didn’t know it was this salty. I’m glad you’re so amused.”
I was slightly irritated, but mostly I was embarrassed. Why didn’t I think about what I was saying before the words just flew from my mouth? Did this guy think I was a complete moron? The gritty sand felt horrible in my teeth, so I continued to spit. I could feel drool beginning to roll down my chin. Well this is attractive, I thought miserably. I tried to wipe the sand and drool away with my wet hand.
“Haven’t you ever tasted ocean water?” he asked.
“I’ve never even seen an ocean, until today.”
“What?” He looked surprised.
“I’ve always lived in Minnesota. I haven’t traveled much,” I admitted.
“That’s OK. I haven’t left this state very often either,” Alex replied.
I was grateful for his honesty. It didn’t make me feel quite so dumb.
“There’s an outside shower back at school. You can rinse off a little there if you’d like,” he informed me.
“Maybe I should just completely wade in to get all this sand off,” I said, although I didn’t like the idea of being totally submerged, since I wasn’t completely wet.
“You could do that too, but I wouldn’t. Sharks feed in the evenings you know.”
Actually, I didn’t know that, but I kept that stupidity to myself. I didn’t need him thinking I was any dumber or clumsier than I already appeared. Maybe he was just joking about sharks, but there was something in the serious tone of his voice that suggested otherwise. Perhaps going into the water was a bad idea after all.
“I guess I’ll go back then,” I announced.
As we walked back to the school, he was quiet. I tried inconspicuously to look at him from time to time. He was almost too good looking. His hair was brown, shoulder length and curly like mine. Unlike me, however, he looked good in curls. His eyes were dark brown. He looked as though he belonged in a travel ad for Italy. The look on his face suggested he was deep in thought about something. I was too embarrassed even to try to concentrate on what his thoughts were. It wasn’t doing me a lot of good being psychic now.
“I didn’t see anyone around out here. Where did you come from?” I finally asked, breaking our silence.
“I was sitting on the rocks over there. Then I saw you walk this way. I didn’t think that you’d seen me. I honestly didn’t want to interrupt you. You appeared to be having fun. Then, I decided I wanted to meet you—you know, without the parents around. I’m sorry that wave caught you off-guard,” his voice sounded sincere.
Great; he had watched all of my playtime in the waves. Well, now I felt like a total idiot. On the bright side, he hadn’t followed me out here due to some premonition that I would go into the water and become dinner for a shark. Although, in lieu of what he’d just observed of me, maybe being a meal would have been a better option.
While I rinsed off a little under the outside shower, Alex grabbed my sandals off the seawall for me. I didn’t have a towel to dry off with, so now I was much wetter than before. He walked with me up the boardwalk and to the dorm’s front door.
“Um, you won’t mention this to anyone, will you? I’m normally not that uncoordinated,” I quickly added as I turned to face him.
“Not a soul. I promise.” He looked at me solemnly and held up his hand as though taking an oath.
“Thanks. Well, I guess I need to take a real shower now,” I said as I fumbled with my keys in the door.
“Emma,” he reached out and took my arm in his hand.
A small, sideways smile spread across his lips.
“You know, if you’re ever interested, I think you’d stand a good chance of winning one of those wet t-shirt contests,” he softly said as he leaned towards me.
I jerked my arm away. I was so self-conscious that I couldn’t speak. My cheeks burned. Alex’s eyes sparkled with my obvious embarrassment.
“See you around then, okay?” he called out to me as he waved goodbye.
I quickly dodged into the main lobby of the dorm and headed for the safety of my room. Looking in the mirror, I could see that my shirt wasn’t completely soaked, at least, but I was still mortified. This was not how I wanted to start out a new year at a new school. Particularly with a guy who was as good-looking as he was.
Would my life never change?
Chapter Three
“Two of a Kind”
The next morning I awoke early. Maybe if I went to breakfast right away, I could avoid having to see Alex, or anyone else for that matter. Never mind the fact that I badly needed caffeine. I dressed quickly and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. No one could possibly be there this early on a Sunday morning; I wasn’t even sure why I was awake yet. Mornings were usually hard for me to navigate; I was your classic night owl.
When I arrived, it was just as I expected; I was the only one there. Not being hungry yet, I poured myself some coffee, grabbed a newspaper, and headed outside to sit. Sinking back in the chair, I surveyed my surroundings. It still seemed very weird to be here. I absently flipped through the paper while sipping my coffee. After a while, the cafeteria door banged open. I leaned forward to see a guy carrying a tray piled high with food. I quickly turned away, but he must have seen me look because he walked right up to my table.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.
“No, go ahead,” I stammered.
I always clammed up around guys. I had no idea why. Maybe it was because I was extremely shy. I had a hard time thinking of anything to say. In groups, I was fine. Put me alone with a guy, however, and I felt like a mute must feel. Why did it seem so easy for other girls? What was I missing?
”You’re new here, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am.”
His eyes scanned my body up and down. Was he checking me out? This was terribly embarrassing. I could feel the color creeping over my face.
“You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?” he asked me, tilting his head slightly.
“No I slept. I just really needed caffeine.”
“Coffee. Good idea; I’ll be right back.” He got up to head back inside.
“Uh, would you mind re-filling this for me?” I asked, offering him my almost empty cup.
“Sure, no problem,” he answered.
I watched him walk away. Okay, all was fair. Now it was my turn to look at him. What was it with this place? This guy wasn’t bad looking either. He wore glasses, but they didn’t make him look nerdy. He was one of those lucky guys that actually looked good in them. Crap, I asked him to get me coffee before I even asked him his name, but then, he hadn’t asked for mine either. Returning, he handed me my coffee.
“Here you go, mademoiselle; one cup of coffee.”
“Thank you.”
He opened his carton of milk and added some to his cup.
“Milk?” he offered.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He poured some into my cup. Come on, I told myself. Think of something to say.
“So how long have you gone to school here?” I finally managed to get out.
“This is my fourth year. I’ll graduate this spring. Are you a freshman?”
I was a little offended. Did I look like a freshman? With my hair pulled back, no make-up on, and wearing the wrinkled clothes I’d just unpacked, I probably looked even younger than that. So, I guess I probably did.
“No, I’m a senior,” I answered.
“We heard a new senior was starting this year; everyone here talks, you know.”
I had no idea that I could be even remotely close to being an interesting topic.
“I’m Blake,” he offered.
“Emma,” I returned.
“I hear that you’re from somewhere up north, aren’t you?” He continued talking while he ate.
“Minnesota,” I replied. I was definitely going to have to do better than one-line answers, I thought, or this conversation wasn’t going to go far.
“Whoa, they must want to study you really badly to bring you all the way from there. No wonder everyone’s so curious,” he said putting another bite in his mouth.
“What do you mean, study me? Should I be concerned?”
“Oh it’s not that bad. You’ll have a bunch of tests this first week . . . all new students, and especially the ones like us do: stupid stuff really, ink blots, IQ tests, Zener cards, lots of easy junk like that.”
I asked, “Zener cards?” somewhat confused.
“ESP cards. You know: shapes and squiggly lines. You’ve seen those before, right?” he asked as he bit into his bagel.
“Yeah.” Well, I knew what they were at least. You could download them off the Internet even. I wondered if I should practice. That might not be such a bad idea.
“No worries; their tests are super easy. You’ll sail right through them, just like I did,” he offered.
“And if I don’t?” I fretted.
“Then they’ll administer electric shocks to you until you do,” he answered, making his voice sound sinister. Then he laughed lightly.
“It’s no big deal, trust me. After the testing, you’ll just have a lab like once a week. If they use hypnosis, you almost sleep through it. That’s how easy it is. Otherwise, this school is pretty cool. You’ll like it.”
Blake kept eating as if he were in a hurry – or really starving.
“You’re actually pretty tan, especially for being a northerner and all. I’d say you could pass for a native here,” he continued around a mouthful of food.
I made a mental note to myself that blending in would require frequent tanning on my part. My mother would cringe at the thought of my premature wrinkling.
“Minnesota is not exactly the North Pole, you know. We do have boats and beaches up there too; they’re just next to lakes, not oceans,” I informed him.
Blake didn’t respond to my comment. I am already boring him, I thought. I need to keep this conversation going. It’s good practice for me.
“So why are you here so early on a weekend morning?” I decided to ask.
“My roommate and I are going to go surf-fishing.”
I questioned him, “Surf-fishing?”
“Yeah, we fish from the beach. We normally fish from the inlet, or the pier, but we thought we’d rather hang out here. You know, see who’s around today, with school starting tomorrow and all.” He was interrupted by a voice approaching us from behind.
“Figures I’d find you here, hitting on the women. Why didn’t you get me up?”
I didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice. It was Alex. I choked as I began to take a sip of my coffee.
“I tried, but you were out cold. Plus, you were out late. When’d you roll in?” Blake asked, “three, four?”
“Something like that; first practice of the year you know, lots of catching up to do. In addition, we started on some new songs last night. Then we were held up because one of the speakers blew. So, Dave and I decided to hang out and jam after the others had left. The time got away from us.”
Alex sat down across from me. His tray was piled as high with food as Blake’s had been.
“Oh, hey Alex, this is Emma. She’s the new senior they told us about.”
“Nice meeting you,” he said without looking at me. Alex yawned and ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. Why can’t I look that good with messed up, uncombed hair? I thought. At least he was acting as if he had never seen me before, so I guess he was trying to keep his promise after all. Maybe he hadn’t told anyone about my little scene on the beach last night, not yet at least.
“Well, I’m done,” announced Blake, getting up with his tray.
He sure shoveled that food down in a hurry.
“I’ll head back and get the gear. I’ll meet you in . . . what, twenty minutes?” he asked Alex. Alex just nodded.
“Nice talking to you, Emma; I’ll see you around. Don’t sweat anything. Things will be fine,” Blake assured me. As he walked off, he called back to Alex.
“Hey, the new bait there, don’t forget man; I met her first.”
“Show’s what he knows,” Alex murmured under his breath.
My mouth opened slightly. “Did, did he just call me bait?” I stammered.
“Yep, I think he did. Blake really does need to work on his manners,” Alex answered shaking his head as he smiled slightly at me.
“Manners,” I mumbled as I got up to leave. Like you’d know anything about manners, I thought.
“Wait, don’t go,” he said. Alex shifted slightly in his seat.
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you last night. I really am.” His voice was sincere. “I meant what I said as a compliment.”
“A lot of girls would have been really flattened. I, I mean flattered,” he quickly corrected himself. “Uh, wrong word,” he stammered.
No kidding, I thought.
“Um, sorry,” he apologized weakly.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slap you right now,” I challenged, trying to make my voice sound stern.
“Um.” Alex gave me a pleading smile. “Because I might end up liking it? Then I’d just want you to slap me again!”
I glared at him for a second. Then a slight grin crept across my face. He had certainly stuck his foot in his mouth. This was rather funny, in an odd sort of way.
“Look, could we start over?” he asked.
We were interrupted by a small cough. I turned around to find Dr. Weber facing me.
“Good morning, Miss Patterson. Your roommate Kristen has arrived. I believe she’s on her way over here with Rachel to meet you now. If you don’t mind, would you allow me a word with my son?” There was something serious in the tone of his voice.
“Uh, sure . . . No problem; I was just taking my tray back. See ya around,” I said to Alex. I got up quickly and headed for the safety of the cafeteria building.
I watched as Alex sat stone silent. I could instantly tell that something was wrong. As I deposited my tray inside to the dishwashing area, I could see them out there arguing. I caught a brief moment of their conversation when someone else opened the cafeteria door.
“Just keep your distance, Alex . . . friends only . . . I mean it,” I overheard Dr. Weber saying. Alex gave him an angry reply. I couldn’t exactly hear what his response had been, but he looked furious. Getting up from the table, he stormed off. He didn’t even bother to finish eating or to return his tray. As I stood watching this, I heard Rachel call out my name.
“There you are! We’ve been looking for you. So, you’re an early riser too? Then you two will get along great. Emma, this is Kristen, your roommate.” It seemed as if Rachel talked a million words a minute.
“Hi,” Kristen replied. She was attractive, but not overly done up. She had blonde hair, cut shorter than I wear mine, but the cut looked stylish on her. Like everyone else here, she was tan. Her tan, however, was perfect: the kind that looked like it took some serious work on her part to achieve.
We stood looking at each other for a moment. Then I remembered how bad I must have looked to her. Why hadn’t I done something with myself before I left the room this morning? I wasn’t even dressed yet, really.
“Hi,” I returned. I felt totally stupid. What else should I say?
“Well, I’ll leave you guys alone to get acquainted,” Rachel said cheerfully.
After she had left, I surprised myself by speaking first. “I’m actually not an early riser,” I admitted.
“It’s okay,” she answered. “I’m not really a morning person either.”
“Is Rachel always so, bouncy?” I wanted to know.
“Yeah, I guess it’s part of her job to be energetic. In addition, I should warn you now, when she’s having a fight with her boyfriend, you need to duck and run for cover. She can get moody.”
“Kristen!” a small squeal of delight sounded behind us as one of her friends approached.
“Janice, hey what’s up?” Kristen answered.
I recognized this girl. She had sat with Rachel and me at dinner the previous night.
“Did you just get here? Are you guys rooming together?” Janice asked.
“Um, yes,” answered Kristen.
“Figures they’d put their two poster children together. We’ll probably feel the psychic brain vibrations up on the third floor. Are you heading back to the dorm?” she continued.
“Yeah, but first I need to unload my car,” Kristen answered.
Janice and I both quickly offered to help her. As we started towards the parking lot, I watched Alex disappear from my view in the distance. I couldn’t quite see his face so it was hard to tell if he looked angry, but it definitely looked like he was walking with a purpose, whatever that might be.
“He is gorgeous, don’t you think?” Janice asked me, motioning towards him.
“Yeah, well,” I sputtered. I was embarrassed that she caught me while I was staring at him.
“I saw you at breakfast this morning sitting with him and Blake. You should have seen the look on Ashley’s face,” Janice continued as she nodded at Kristen.
“Who’s Ashley?” I asked.
“The richest girl in school, spoiled rotten too. She’s been trying to bag Alex for the last three years—unsuccessfully I might add.” Janice sounded pleased as she relayed this to me.
“If Ashley sees you are hanging around with him, you’ll be meeting her really soon. You will become her new best friend. I guarantee it. She’d use anybody to get close to him,” she added.
“He doesn’t like her?” I questioned.
“I don’t think so; he ignores her mostly. She’s used to being the center of attention, so it really irks her that he hasn’t asked her out,” Janice said.
“She’s made her rounds with the rest of the guys here; he’s probably her last conquest. You can’t blame the girl for having goals!” laughed Kristen.
This was good. I needed friends. Our conversation had crossed the line into gossip, and I wanted to hear more. As we unloaded Kristen’s car, Janice continued talking. “Well, we’d be wasting our time with him anyway, with all of his dad’s stupid rules.”
“But we can look all we want. I mean, watching Alex play volleyball is almost a religious experience in itself!” Kristen added.
“He definitely has the body,” Janice sighed.
“What kind of rules does his dad have?” I asked. I hoped I didn’t sound too curious, but I really wanted to know, especially after what I had just witnessed between Alex and Dr. Weber at breakfast.
“Dr. Weber doesn’t let him go out with any of us from Voyance. We’d have to transfer to a different school for a shot at him,” Janice sighed.
I had to admit, I was slightly disappointed, too.
“So, does he have a girlfriend from somewhere else?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure he needs one, really. You see, he’s in this band. Every time I’ve seen them play, there are always plenty of girls hanging around.”
“What does he play?”
“Mostly the guitar, but I’ve seen him on the keyboard, too. Their band is pretty good, actually,” Janice offered.
Prying for more information, I decided to ask them a few questions.
“So, how come his dad won’t let him go out with anyone from here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s bad for business, like a conflict of interest or something. On the other hand, maybe it’s something entirely different. I guess we’ll never know,” Kristen offered.
“I bet Alex could sneak around with someone here if he really wanted to. That’s what Ashley’s hoping for anyways,” Janice added. “You know how it is; you always want what you can’t have.”