Powers (11 page)

She's sneaky and she's smart. I have to admire that.

Meanwhile, her hunger gnaws at me. It's like the guilt that gnaws at me, telling me something I don't want to hear. Don't want to think about.

English ends and I go to my other classes. When I'm not in the same room, the hunger lessens. But, it's still there, like a burr in my brain.

Lunchtime arrives. I look around for a table. Can't sit with Gwen. Can't sit with Melissa. I find an open table near the entrance to the cafeteria. I watch Gwen nibble on a bowl of plain lettuce. I wolf down a tuna on rye, a protein bar, and an apple.

And I'm still hungry.

Jo walks by.

“Hey, Jo!” I say. “Have a seat.”

She glances over at Gwen, but sits down. I catch Gwen's thoughts.
Fine. Take him. See if I care.

So I was right. Jo likes me. Good. Time to go for what I wanted from the beginning.

Except Jo isn't looking her usual friendly self. “How was your date with Melissa?”
Don't waste much time, do you?

I pour on the old charm, tilt my head, and smile. “You could have warned me.”

“Could have warned you? That Melissa's the school bicycle?”

“The what?”

“Everyone gets a turn.” Joanne says, quite serious. “So did you?”
Take a ride?

I lean toward her, close but not touching. Drop my voice into the seduction range like I've practiced. “Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?”

Get real,
she thinks.
Drop the act.

That sets me back. She's not buying it. Not for a second. I try changing the subject. “So, how was your date with Conrad?”

“I told him it's over,” she says.

“So you're free to go out with me tonight.”

Jo gives a mental laugh.
You think you can have me that easy? Bomb out with Gwen, try to jump Melissa, then hit on me?

I try one last time. “C'mon, Jo. You like me. I like you. What's the problem?”

“Gwen. She's my cousin.” Jo shoves a forkful of fries into her mouth. A blob of gravy drips on her chin, but she doesn't notice.

“Is it because of some story she told you about Friday night?” I tap into Jo's mind, see images, bits of conversation. All damning. “Did she say I tried to force her to have sex with me? Is that what she said?”

“So did you?”
Try to force her?

“No!” I slam my hand down on the table. Jo's milkshake quivers. “If she said that, she's a lying b—”

“
Hey!
Watch your mouth.” I've never seen Jo mad before, but I'm seeing it now. What is it with these two? They're like she-lions, the way they protect each other.

I take a deep breath. I catch myself tapping my fingers. Stop. Then I give Jo my best little-boy smile. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Drop the act,” she snaps.

“Jo, what do you expect me to do? Go crawling back to her? Beg forgiveness? I didn't do anything wrong.”

“You
hurt
her.” Jo gives me this level look, like she's not backing down.

“The hurt went both ways, Jo,” I say, getting up to leave. “By the way, there's gravy on your chin.”

Gwen

I should have trusted Joanne. But when she sat down with Adrian, it was as if she'd put rat poison in my salad. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Adrian's body language was obvious. He was moving in on her. No surprises there.

My heart ached to remember Friday night and his arms around me. I'd lost him.

Ha! Who was I kidding? I'd never actually had him. The truth was he'd never desired me. I wasn't a love interest. Not even a sex object. I was more of an electrical outlet. He wanted to plug in and recharge.

But I
missed
him. Not just the attention, or the flowers or the compliments. I missed talking, about music and books and movies. We'd started to open up to each other, to get to know each other.

What if there had been no Power? What if he and I had come together without it? I could imagine being with him. Maybe watching a movie and eating popcorn. Or sitting in front of the woodstove, drinking hot chocolate and talking.

Good one. Without The Power, he'd never have noticed me. My kind and his kind don't mix.

I looked over to see Adrian slam his hand down on the table. They're arguing? Adrian glanced at me. They're arguing about me? He got up, stalked away.

Joanne was defending me?

I left for the newspaper, feeling ashamed for doubting my own cousin.

Doug was on the phone when I arrived. He handed me my assignment without skipping a beat. I gave him a thumbs-up and left.

I read it over in the car.
Great.
Cover the grand opening of a new gas station. I'd hoped, after Mr. Dean's story, that Doug might give me something more challenging. I'd never get that summer internship with stupid assignments like this.

The grand opening of the gas station was a grand bore. There were balloons and banners and free coffee and doughnuts. Now, there's front page news.

I did a short interview with the gas station manager, took a few photos, and wrote down the impressions of a few customers. “Nice clean bathrooms,” said one woman. “Twenty-four-hour convenience,” said her husband.

Yup, I'd probably win an award with this one. What I needed was a story. What I needed was another vision.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28

Adrian

There's a stone ledge that separates the hallway from the sunken cafeteria. I sit there, watching the action below. Two girls, probably freshmen, sit together at the other end of the ledge. They smile at me, whisper, giggle. Yeah, you wish, I think. I'm not
that
desperate.

Gwen reads a book.
War and Peace.
I touch her mind, but all I get is the image of a stone castle, high on a cliff, drawbridge pulled up. She looks up at me and gives me a small satisfied smile. She's skipped breakfast again. She's having a diet soda for lunch. And I'm starving, like a beggar at a banquet.

No. Like an addict craving his next fix.

I cast my mind around the room. Distraction, that's what I need. The strongest emotions catch my attention first. Like that girl over there, talking to her friend. Her grandmother is in the hospital. Might not live. I block her thoughts. I don't need to feel her pain. My father's an idiot for not learning how to tune that out of his life.

There's a guy halfway across the cafeteria. I don't know his name. He's almost pissing his pants with anxiety. Curious, I probe deeper. I see he's the one supplying half the school with happy drugs, as Melissa calls them. Carrying a thousand bucks in the back pocket of his jeans. No wonder he's nervous.

For one second, I'm tempted. I could wait for him after school. Call him out. Demand the money. It's drug money. He doesn't have the right to keep it. Yeah, right, and the next day I'd find six or seven of his friends waiting to beat me up. Not a great idea.

I'm so hungry. And I want a smoke. Well, why not? Just one pack. Take the edge off the hunger. I head to town, and go into a variety store. The guy at the register looks like a high school dropout.

“You legal?” He scratches at a zit on his face. It starts to bleed.

“Yes,” I lie.

“Need to see some ID,” he says, grabbing a tissue and pressing it to his face.

“Left it at home.”

“Can't sell you nothin' then.”

I stare into his eyes. I draw on The Power, drop my voice down, slow and even. “I won't tell and you won't tell. Anyone asks, you checked my card.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking bored. “Whatever.”

He hands over the package. I smoke one before getting in my car. The buzz hits me in seconds. Guess that's what a year of abstinence does to you. I'm still feeling the nicotine rush when I return to school and go to Psychology. We're no more than ten minutes into the class before Gwen has a vision.

A van will crash through the ice. McCallum Point. Because he turns off the ice road. Thinks the ice is safe.

Ice road?

Gwen looks over at me.
Well?

Well, what? I pass her a piece of paper. N
OT MY PROBLEM
.

Fine,
she thinks at me.
I'll go myself.

As soon as she thinks that, she gets a new vision.

It's her, running out, trying to warn the van. The ice cracks. The van sinks, taking Gwen with it.

My hand shakes as I write another note. Y
OU WIN
.

She looks as smug as Cleo bringing a dead bird to the door.

“Ahem.” That's Mrs. Janzen, our teacher.

“May I see you outside, please?” She's Canadian-polite but ice-cube cold. We follow her into the hallway.

“You know the rules in my classroom,” Mrs. Janzen says. “Flirt on your own time.”

Gwen opens her mouth to argue, closes it when she sees the expression on Mrs. Janzen's face.

“I'm knocking your participation grades to zero,” she continues.

Gwen's mental expression of dismay hits me hard. She actually
cares
about participation points. So, I move in close to Mrs. Janzen, look into her eyes, pitch my voice hypnotically low. I draw on The Power. “Mrs. Janzen, you don't want to do that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don't want to do that,” I repeat, using
the voice.
“Gwen is your best student. She didn't disrupt the class.”

“Perhaps
disrupt
is the wrong term, but—”

“Gwen is your best student,” I repeat. I hold her in my gaze. Don't let her look away. Beside me, Gwen gasps. I motion for her to be still.

Mrs. Janzen looks uncertain. “Yes, of course, but—”

“Gwen and I are leaving now. You'll inform the attendance office that we're officially excused.”

“Of course. Officially excused. Go on, then.” She waves us away, returns to the classroom.

“How did you do that?” Gwen asks with a mix of awe and fear.

“Does it matter? Are you coming or not?”

She thinks about the pictures she will take. About the headline in the paper.

“I feel like I'm making a pact with the Devil,” she says.

Gwen

We met in the parking lot.

“I'll follow you,” he said.

We drove past the Burger Barn, down to the lake. I pulled out onto the ice road and heard the beep of a car horn behind me. I looked in the rearview mirror. He pointed.

Ice road,
I sent to him.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug.

Once the ice freezes deep enough to hold a car, you clear a road through the snow,
I sent.
The lack of snow cover causes the ice road to freeze even deeper. It's totally safe as long as you don't go off the road.

He shook his head, as if I were crazy.

Just keep your window open. For a quick escape.

Adrian

This is seriously weird. I'm on the surface of a frozen lake, following a plowed road marked only by small evergreens stuck into the snow on either side. I crank down my window, turn off my radio, and listen for cracking ice. We drive maybe three miles. Gwen pulls over. I park behind her. Ahead is a large building. A sign says
McCallum Lodge.

Gwen, camera ready, walks a short distance along the ice.

“Gwen, wait.” I catch up to her. “Listen, we can save him.”

“Duh. Isn't that why we're here?”

“No, I mean, we can stop it from happening.” And I won't have to crawl out on the ice to rescue the guy, I'm thinking.

“I saw him going through, Adrian. It's meant to happen.”

I shut up. I'm thinking she sees the future she wants to see.

I hear the rumble of a vehicle. A rusty old van appears from around a bend in the ice road. I flag it down. The driver stops. He's another old guy, like Mr. Dean. His liver-spotted hands grip the wheel.

“Hey, son. What's up?” he asks.

“You can't go that way, sir,” I tell him, pointing off the road. “There's current there. Ice is too thin.”

“Nah, the ice is fine. I've lived here all my life, son. My fishing buddy, Jake, lives out that way. Been there hundreds of times.”

“This winter is different. The conditions—”

He interrupts. “Look, son, I know you mean well, but I've got to be on my way now.”

So I use
the voice.
“You will go back to town. Call Jake and tell him you're not coming.”

He backs up. Good, he's going to turn around and leave. Then he guns the engine, roars past me.

What?

He drives about thirty feet before the ice breaks. It's like watching an instant replay. The back end of the van disappears first. The man scrambles out of the window, grabs onto the edge of ice.

I feel his panic. I run toward him, scared out of my mind. They don't teach ice rescues where I come from.

Gwen has a vision. I see myself falling through the ice.
Whoa.
I stop. Her vision changes. I'm going to crawl. Okay, then. I drop to my belly, and commando-crawl.

The man flails around. He tries to grip the ice, slides back into black water.

Why am I doing this? I'm nuts. The ice creaks beneath me. Freezing water flows over the edge, creeps closer, as if to pull me in.

I see the shifting visions in Gwen's mind, each one a possible outcome. I'll make it, as long as I don't chicken out. If I lose my nerve, get to my feet too soon, the ice will give way beneath me. Okay, no chickening out, then.

I wiggle out of my coat and slide it along the ice, guided by Gwen's visions. The man grabs the arm of my coat, loses his grip, grabs again. I inch backward, pulling him out. It takes forever. Probably only a few seconds, but it takes forever.