Empath (Book 1 of the Empath Trilogy) (2 page)

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Dinner hadn’t been extraordinary.  There were a number of students getting food when I reached the cafeteria at seven.  They mostly looked like freshmen also trying to get their bearings. 

I wasn’t very hungry; I’ve never been able to eat when my stress level is up.  Instead of a real meal, I grabbed a yogurt and an apple.  The apple was portable and could easily accompany me to my room for later.  The yogurt gave me something to do with my hands while I watched as all of the lost and scared came in, tightly bunched groups, not unlike sheep.  They milled about together as they grabbed trays,  filled them and then shuffled over to the tables.

The good news was I discovered that by sitting a few feet away and ignoring eye contact, I was able to ignore most of the emotional output around me.  Because I didn’t know any of these people, their emotions remained at a relatively low hum.  My optimism grew.

Ch. 2

Freshmen 101 classes.  My biggest fear.  Large, auditorium type setting with way too many people all crammed together and not caring enough about the class to sit quietly and focus.  When people focused on their note taking in class, obviously, their ability to emote was greatly reduced.  For this reason, I wished all of my classes could be Calculus. 

First up on the menu for the day was Psychology 106.  This class was going to be a challenge.  Not only were we going to sit in an auditorium once a week for over an hour, but according to the syllabus I’d gotten with my class assignment, we would also be expected to break into smaller groups to discuss emotional subject matter.

Girls were usually more honest about how they felt on their feelings, but make no mistake, the guys were equal parts trouble for me.  I once threw up in tenth grade Psychology when Todd Adams, my seat partner, had a strong response to our discussion on the effects of violent crime.  We were too close together and I couldn’t get away quite in time to avoid his strong flashback.  The first gut-wrenching wave had taken my breath away and hearing it, he had put his hand on my arm pulling me into his emotional memory with him.  I felt his terror tied up in his memory of being held at gunpoint with his mother when he’d been young.  Knees weak and unable to stand, I had thrown up right there in the aisle.  Thank goodness I had turned my head at least and avoided hitting anyone though the damage to my reputation had been permanent. 

I was hopeful that by college my peers would be better able to control themselves.  I hoped I was as well.  As class was released, I took my time gathering my books, giving me the opportunity to avoid the crush of a mass exodus.  Plus, I had a few hours before my next class and I was in no particular hurry.  When I did leave the lecture hall just a few minutes later, the hallway was nearly empty with just a few lost underclassmen jogging to make it to their next class on time.  I wandered down the hall and turned to go down some short stairs toward the doors leading out into the quad, the open park like square in the center of the main cluster of buildings.  University Center was my goal, it was the main building housing the bookstore where I had seen some books I might want to kill some time with over the next few weeks in my anticipated free time and it was only a few yards across the quad from me. 

I was pretty well in my own head and at peace due to the crowd control and stranger factor allowing me some much needed quiet time.  Actually, I was reveling in it.  It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed such a reprieve from the typical static of my curse.

So, it was like a shockwave hitting me in the chest as I came around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and felt the terror and fury clashing before I could hear it.  They were speaking so quietly I’m sure no one just walking past would think it was more than a minor disagreement and not even worth a second glance.  However, given my sensitivities, I felt the underlying intensity and it took my breath away.

There was a slight, borderline delicate looking student with honey colored hair holding his books in front of his chest like a shield.  His huge hazel eyes were staring impossibly wide at his antagonist. 

Sturdily built with a muscular frame that had to come in over five foot seven and no visible fat on her; she was a formidable woman.  Her thick mane of honey colored hair was the same shade as the boy’s but long enough to be pulled into a sloppy bun.  She was clad basically, wearing a pair of jeans, and a baggy black t-shirt that did absolutely nothing for her light coloring and large size.  But it wasn’t only her size that made her frightening.  It was the rage and threat of violence in her hushed tone, undetectable to an outsider.  Her upper lip curled over her teeth in a snarl as she pointed at him from about two feet away and spoke low and intense.

The two were similar enough in coloring that I thought they must be related and maybe it was a dust up between brother and sister, but even if they were family, this felt like it was getting scary and I was being tossed about between her fury and his terror; it beat against me like an ocean’s undercurrents.  It was completely disorienting. 

Maybe that was why, in an entirely uncharacteristic move, I stepped up to the boy and interposed myself with my back to the girl and asked with concern, “Can I help?”  The boy looked at me suddenly and tried to hide his worry by looking down and shuffling his feet.  He was embarrassed.  With my ability to feel his turmoil, anything he said wouldn’t hide what I really saw.  What I felt
.
  This kind of emotional intensity cut right through my precarious armor of anonymity. 

“It’s alright, I’m alright,” he mumbled quickly as he pushed an invisible pebble with the toe of his black Converse. 

“Move along, this is not your affair,” the bully spoke tightly through clenched teeth. 

I turned to look at her, thrown temporarily by her odd manner of speech given the heat of the moment.  When I looked at her, she was in perfect control of herself and her face had gone completely neutral.  A passerby would think I was asking about something as mundane as directions

Returning my eyes to the boy, I saw that he was peeking at me through his shaggy hair, eyes still enormous, but his own features otherwise calm as well.  It appeared his eyes were always that big, maybe that was what made him seem so young and vulnerable.  “We’re having a family discussion.  I’ll thank you to mind your own affairs,” continued the woman. 

Given the extra sense my curse provides, I’m usually the first to know when someone is going to do something like hit a classmate or trip someone on the bus.  That’s why it was so surprising that the woman’s push caught me unaware. 

One minute I was looking at the boy’s face, feeling his apprehension ebbing, which made me feel like I had done the right thing.  The next minute, I felt an incredibly powerful thrust to the middle of my back right below the shoulder blades that sent me spinning into the boy.  All I had time to think was that I was going to squish the poor little guy.  That, and the fact that this woman had issues.

Instinctively bracing for the fall I was sure he and I both had coming, I put both hands out.  I try to avoid touching, but I didn’t want to break my nose on his face by falling on top of him. 
Please don’t let this hurt too much. 
Ran through my mind on my way down. 

Several things happened very quickly, almost too quickly to process.  My hands went out to his shoulders and after dropping his books, his arms came out to my sides, grabbing me around the waist.  We touched each other at the same time and this boy, no bigger than me, stopped my momentum, he felt very solid.  And warm.  Hot even.

The heat took me by surprise, but even more shocking was what I
didn’t
feel. The boy’s terror, the woman’s rage, the cacophony of the myriad hummings emanating from the several small groups of students nearby, all of these things stopped.  Just stopped.  It was like I was in a bubble.  It was fabulous.  And terrifying.  What just happened?  Also strange, was the fact that even though I hadn’t registered any sort of pain, when we touched, I distinctively had the thought “ouch” pop into my head.

The boy seemed to have felt something as well as his eyes focused on my face and his mouth formed a little “o.” 

But the first one to speak was the woman behind us as we stood in each other’s arms.  “What the hell?” she hissed.  “Stephen, back away from her.”  She tried to reach for his arm on my waist.

The boy whipped his face up to hers and without tearing his gaze from mine spoke softly to her.  “Tara, no.  You know we have a duty.  I’ll meet up with you later.”  At this last, he broke our eye contact to look at Tara.  She dropped her hand and, still staring, turned on her heel and left.  Although she still seemed angry, I honestly couldn’t feel anything coming from her direction as she strode away.

After Tara stalked off, I was left holding on to a complete stranger, but I didn’t let go right away.  “Ah, are you okay?” 

The boy dropped his arms and I mimicked him so that we were standing about a foot apart with our hands at our sides staring at each other nearly at eye level. 

As soon as our physical contact ended, the low grade “noise” crept back into my consciousness.  As an experiment I didn’t even realize I was conducting, I reached tentatively to the boy and touched his hand with my own.  Just as before, when we made contact, the buzzing of others’ emotions were gone.  He just stared back and a slow smile spread across his face. 

“Hi, I’m Stephen Andrews.  Do you drink coffee?”

Shaking my head dumbly I heard myself answer, “I prefer tea.”

Ch. 3

Stephen suggested the bagel place just a few blocks up the street from campus.  It was a quiet walk with Stephen striding confidently ahead of me, his arms swinging freely, appearing completely at ease.  Hadn’t he just been terrified as Tara berated him only five minutes before?  And now he was showing absolutely no traces of that fear.  Was I missing something?

While we walked, I looked over and it struck me again how little this guy was.  He seemed so young.  I was 5’2” and he couldn’t have been more than a few inches taller than me.  Plus his wide face, freckles and large eyes made him seem like he was barely past puberty.

“I’m Claire Martin, I’m a freshman.”  My voice was loud in the midmorning quiet. 

“Hi Claire.”  He looked over again through his shaggy mop of hair and gave me an easy smile.  He didn’t seem old enough to be at college.  He was so small and childlike; it was hard to think of him as my peer or even my superior.  Maybe that was why I had felt compelled to try to protect him earlier; it was maternal or something.

We continued on without speaking for about five more minutes before reaching our destination and upon arriving, ordered our drinks.  I felt like something soothing, so got a Tazo mint tea and Stephen ordered black coffee.  After getting our drinks, we took our seats below the front windows.  I unwrapped my tea bag and began to dunk it rapidly in my apprehensiveness, letting the scent rising to my nostrils work its magic and slowly unwind my nerves while waiting for him to talk.

Stephen took his time.  He seemed unconcerned with the whole strange scenario and settled into his chair with a slight slouch over his cup before looking back from the window and meeting my eyes. 

I looked down at my tea again and noticed that I could feel the murmurings of the others in the store, I couldn’t feel
anything
coming from my companion.  I was equal parts intrigued and frightened as to what was different about Stephen than anyone else I’d ever known. 

He took a sip of his coffee and examining the side of his mug asked casually, “Have you ever been to the basement of the library?” 

Uncertain where he was going, I tried to follow.  “I just got here yesterday so I haven’t had a chance yet.  Why, should I?” 

“There is a book there I think you would find very interesting.  This author, Roger Jenkins, he wrote a book about the paranormal and ESP and stuff.  It might be something someone like you would find interesting.”  He continued to study his mug.

Considering the fact that I had tried my entire known existence to keep my curse a secret for fear I would either be committed or experimented on, I was more than startled that Stephen would have me pegged so quickly.  I had to swallow to make my voice sound remotely normal.  “I don’t know what you mean.  I don’t buy into that sort of goofy stuff.  See,” I said leaning back and waving a hand over my scant makeup and orange shirt for his examination.  “See, not goth.  I don’t buy into that sixth sense stuff.”  I added with a laugh that was too high to my ears.