The laser surgery the next day hurt. A lot. I deserved that pain, just like I deserved to get shot. It was stupid of me to ever trust Heidi.
I laid on top of that truck until my powers returned enough for my body to start repairing itself. Heidi says my powers are energy based, and I don’t know how that makes me hard to hurt, or how it helps me to heal a lot faster than most people, but it does. It’s not like instant healing. It’s just a lot faster. In this case it stopped me from bleeding to death.
After I felt strong enough, I waited until the vehicle stopped for a traffic light and jumped off. The landing was agony. More pain – pain like I’d never felt before – shot from my left thigh into my hips and I collapsed on the street. I had no strength in my leg and it throbbed with an alternating fire and numbness. The bullet was still inside me pressing on something, or maybe it ripped through a nerve or… something. I didn’t know. I just knew I couldn’t put any weight on my left side..
I crawled to the sidewalk and got my bearings. I was in Atlas Park now, on Pegasus Way, not far from Chiron Medical Center. Maybe a half-mile, may be less. I used a streetlight post to pull myself up, then kicked off as hard as I could with my right leg, launching myself into the air. My landing wasn’t graceful, and I didn’t even try to land on my feet. I just hit and rolled and tried to stand again for the next jump. It took a lot of jumps to make it and my final landing crashed into a row of dumpsters behind the hospital. By this time I could barely get back up, but I had to get rid of the costume I was wearing. If I got linked to a home invasion, I’d get kicked out of school and sent to prison for sure. I pulled it off and stuffed it into a dumpster. The second time in as many days that I had thrown a way a costume that a girl I liked had given me.
I was naked and sticky with blood when I finally fell into the emergency room door. I explained to them who I was, and that I had been ambushed by some angry Hellions; that I had survived their fire, but my clothes and mediport hadn’t; that one of them with a gun had gotten a lucky shot at me.
While he worked on me, the doctor had the ER staff look up my records. He found out that I’m a student at Westbrook with a provisional hero license. He wanted to know what I was doing out in the middle of the night. I told him that I had snuck out to meet a girl (not a lie) and that I had just taken her home and was on my way back to school when the ambush happened (lie). He fussed at me for not only putting myself in danger, but “what would have happened to your girl if she had been with you?” In the end, he agreed not to turn me in – this time. Then he sent me to Cygnus Medical Center for imaging.
At Cygnus they told me the bullet was pressing on my sciatic nerve, and that if I didn’t have it taken care of soon, I could be permanently disabled and in chronic pain for the rest of my life. There were options – teleportational surgery, phasic surgery, and laser surgery – and I could have it taken care of as soon as the next day.
So the next morning, Elissa Laoye (who was kind to me when she saw the pain I was in and helped me get back to my room) took me to the hospital in Steel Canyon for laser surgery, which was the least risky out of all the options.
The whole thing was scary for me, because I’m supposed to be invulnerable and impervious and immune… I don’t know what I would have done if Elissa hadn’t come with me. I owe her a lot.
By lunchtime, I was as good as new, fully healed. By afternoon, I was at the beach, hanging out with my friends. By the time it was getting too late to stay out, I was asking Lauren Lombardi out on a date for Saturday night.
Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
(This post is a day late. Most of the dialogue is only slightly edited.)
A few days ago, Lorne gave me some really good advice on how to get over a girl. I had two to get over and he gave me two different pieces of advice. One: Tell her how you feel, and that you can’t ever be “just friends” and then give her space. Two: Picture her doing something disgusting that you could never feel the same about girl if you saw her do it, and then think about that every time you think about her. I used the first method on Mia. I used the second one on Heidi. Now I feel like Mia is just another girl and when I think of Heidi, I see a stream of tobacco juice dripping down her chin.
I still haven’t figured out what to do about Krista – how to make it up to her for the things I did – or rather didn’t do – but I’m not even sure how she felt about me. Maybe she’s like, “good riddance.” But I just couldn’t ask her out again. Even if I did, and she said yes, and we actually got to go out, I think she’d still be suspicious that it was Mia I really wanted to be with. I feel like I owe Krista something. I just don’t know what.
But that was then.
Lauren and I had our first date last night. We went to see “Bad Teacher” and then hit the food court at the mall for pizza. (“Bad Teacher” was really funny, but also kinda dirty and there were places where I dared not look at Lauren. Pretty sure I was glowing red in the dark during those scenes.) We had a lot of fun, and if any of our friends saw us at the mall, they all kept away and gave us our privacy.
It seemed like maybe pizza might not be Lauren’s favorite food, so I made a mental note of that, but she didn’t seem to mind nibbling at it while I wolfed down a couple of slices.
We sat and chatted We talked about favorite TV shows and what books we like to read. Whether SNL is actually funny, or if people just remember them being funny because they only remember the rare really funny skit. I confessed to her that I’d gotten hooked on “Ugly Betty” because I watched it with my mom. We talked about how great her parents are and how my mom is great except for the fact that she has a weakness for my dad.
I realized after a while that we weren’t going to eat all the pizza and – this is how cool Lauren is – she said, “I guess we should get this somewhere where it won't spoil.” I mean, how many girls would suggest that you take home the leftover pizza on a date? I mean, I’m not rich and throwing away half a pizza would have seemed wrong. But for her, it wasn’t a problem.
When I asked her what she wanted to do, maybe hit the arcade or walk around the stores, she said, “We can head back to campus, if you like, and see if anything comes to mind by the time we get there.”
Wow.
We wound up in my room. Aiden was still out.
Lauren came in, looked around, and said, “Here I was afraid there'd be dirty laundry piled up everywhere and stale food scattered about.”
“Aiden's pretty neat and I try to be,” I said.
She spotted my guitar leaning against the wall beside the short sofa under my bunk and asked, “Who’s the guitar player?”
“That would be me,” I answered, “but not much of one.”
“You're sure you're not being too modest?”
I wasn’t. I’m not that good.
“Eli's way better,” I said.
“Eli is pretty amazing when it comes to music, I'll admit.”
“He can play lead and barre chords and them impossible-to-finger jazz-style chords,” I said, “All I know good is my open chords.”
“ That's more than I know,” she said. “Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”
“Yeah. But really, it's just a hobby.”
“Well,” she said, “it's a nice hobby. You might be able to use it to serenade a girl someday.”
That’s when I confessed to her that I liked to sing. Not like on karaoke night. But really sing. Like sit down with my guitar and play three chords and sing a song. And then I did something I’ve never done before – I sang a song that I wrote for someone else to listen to. It wasn’t a good song. I’ll never claim that I’m a songwriter. Just… sometimes I’ll put together a line or two and maybe a tune will come out of it. It was called “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart.”
Lauren sat on the floor in front of me while I sat on the sofa and performed for her. When I finished, I told her I wasn’t satisfied with it. I said, “It sounds like a bad Townes Van Zant impersonation.”
“Luckily, you have lots of time to work on it,” she said, then added, “It's not a good serenading song, though.”
“No,” I said, caught by surprise that she was asking me to sing not for her, but to her.
It’s one thing to sing for someone, but to serenade a girl – wooin’ is what they used to call it – that was such a potentially embarrassing thing to do that I knew if I said anything at all right then, I’d chicken out.
I just had to pick the right song. Without another word, I started playing and singing:
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6sidWKX7sw)
Won’t you come away with me,
and begin something we can't understand,
I'm as lonely as the Irish Sea,
I'm as willing as the sand...
It’s a song nobody knows. It’s not new. But it’s the most honest song about falling in love that I’ve ever heard. Not that I know that much about falling in love…
As the last chord rang, she applauded.
“I think that’s a better song for serenadin’, “ I said.
“Yes it is!” She seemed contagiously happy. “Now I can say I've been serenaded.’
“I'm glad you liked it. First time I ever serenaded anybody.”
“I think you played pretty well, too.”
“You're too nice.”
“I don't know about that. It really was pretty good.”
“You're a good audience.”
And then things got awkward again. I mean, how do you follow up a love song to a pretty girl?
“So… um… want to go down and watch TV?” That was not what I wanted to say. “Or we could sit up here and talk?” That was closer.
“Both are good,” she said. “Do you... have a preference? I mean, really, either is fine.”
Okay, Wyatt, I said to myself, The ball is in your court. Do not blow it.
“It's kinda nice right here, to me,” I said and it sounded lame to me. Sincere, but lame.
“OK. We can stay here, then.”
“Are you comfortable?” She was still sitting on the floor.
“More or less…” She hesitated, then went on, “ but only so much... It is the floor, you know.”
“Right... Well, there's a cushiony sofa right here.”
She sat down beside me and I put my guitar back in its spot, leaned against the wall.
“It's softer than the floor. I'll give it that,” she said and smiled at me. “But I'm not sitting in your lap.”
This put me to stammering. What was she saying? Was I coming on too strong? Not strong enough?
She said, “It's OK. I was just joking.”
That only made me stammer more.
“Am I making you nervous?” she asked.
“Um… yeah,” I admitted.
“OK. Well, I'm a little nervous, too, if it makes you feel better.”
“Would you be offended if I said it doesn't?”
“Not at all. It's just me, though, right? Nothing to be nervous about. We see each other near every day in school, and there's cheer practice, so what's there to be nervous about?”
“Right…”
“So… Let's not be nervous. OK?””
“Right… No nervous.”
“Instead, you can... tell me more about what you think about Paragon. Like you said, not everyone gets to do what we can do. Are you planning on doing, you know, hero stuff?”
“I’m not sure. It’s fun and all…”
“Am I sensing a ‘but’…?”
“But... it's not real creative punchin' big stupid guys with garden shears for hands. I... I'd kinda like to be a writer.” The second time tonight I’ve revealed a secret to her.
“A writer? What do you like to write about?”
“Well… I have to keep a journal. I've been writin' in it.”
That was the wrong way to say it, because her eyes filled up with questions.
“Why do you have to?”
“It’s part of my…”
“Yeah…?”
“… probation?”
“What did you do?”
Another confession, this time a real one. Lauren had never heard about the gang I was in or my involvement in the diamond store robbery. I told her all about it.
She thought about it. I really figured she would get up and leave. I really thought I’d blown it again. But she was still sitting there beside me so that had to be a good sign, yeah?
“Well,” she said, “everybody makes mistakes, right? And you did the right thing in the end.”
I was relieved.
“Do you end writing about everything that happens?” she asked.
“Yeah, mostly. But not everything. You can't write down everything that happens in a day.”
“I suppose not. That would take another day, at least.”
I laughed.
“So... what are you going to put in there about me? If you mention me, that is.”
“Oh. Hmm… Maybe that you listened to the song I wrote and didn't laugh. Or maybe... that you like bein' serenaded.”
“Well, I liked the song.”
It was about then that I looked at her and it was like I’d never seen her before that moment. I had thought she was pretty – really pretty – the first time I saw her. But suddenly, her eyes were a deeper blue than the ocean reflecting the sky. Her hair was so golden it was blinding. Her lips... her lips were fire and I was a moth. It was a moment that I wanted to last. A moment that I wanted to keep. If there was a time to be bold, it was now.
“Maybe,” I said, looking into those eyes and leaning toward her, “I'll try to find the words to describe what it was like to kiss you.”
She giggled and said, “But you haven't kissed me...”
I leaned closer, “Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
Closer. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
So close that I can feel the heat of her breath. “I think I'm gonna have to find the words.”
“I hope they're good.”
They will be.
A few days ago, Lorne gave me some really good advice on how to get over a girl. I had two to get over and he gave me two different pieces of advice. One: Tell her how you feel, and that you can’t ever be “just friends” and then give her space. Two: Picture her doing something disgusting that you could never feel the same about girl if you saw her do it, and then think about that every time you think about her. I used the first method on Mia. I used the second one on Heidi. Now I feel like Mia is just another girl and when I think of Heidi, I see a stream of tobacco juice dripping down her chin.
I still haven’t figured out what to do about Krista – how to make it up to her for the things I did – or rather didn’t do – but I’m not even sure how she felt about me. Maybe she’s like, “good riddance.” But I just couldn’t ask her out again. Even if I did, and she said yes, and we actually got to go out, I think she’d still be suspicious that it was Mia I really wanted to be with. I feel like I owe Krista something. I just don’t know what.
But that was then.
Lauren and I had our first date last night. We went to see “Bad Teacher” and then hit the food court at the mall for pizza. (“Bad Teacher” was really funny, but also kinda dirty and there were places where I dared not look at Lauren. Pretty sure I was glowing red in the dark during those scenes.) We had a lot of fun, and if any of our friends saw us at the mall, they all kept away and gave us our privacy.
It seemed like maybe pizza might not be Lauren’s favorite food, so I made a mental note of that, but she didn’t seem to mind nibbling at it while I wolfed down a couple of slices.
We sat and chatted We talked about favorite TV shows and what books we like to read. Whether SNL is actually funny, or if people just remember them being funny because they only remember the rare really funny skit. I confessed to her that I’d gotten hooked on “Ugly Betty” because I watched it with my mom. We talked about how great her parents are and how my mom is great except for the fact that she has a weakness for my dad.
I realized after a while that we weren’t going to eat all the pizza and – this is how cool Lauren is – she said, “I guess we should get this somewhere where it won't spoil.” I mean, how many girls would suggest that you take home the leftover pizza on a date? I mean, I’m not rich and throwing away half a pizza would have seemed wrong. But for her, it wasn’t a problem.
When I asked her what she wanted to do, maybe hit the arcade or walk around the stores, she said, “We can head back to campus, if you like, and see if anything comes to mind by the time we get there.”
Wow.
We wound up in my room. Aiden was still out.
Lauren came in, looked around, and said, “Here I was afraid there'd be dirty laundry piled up everywhere and stale food scattered about.”
“Aiden's pretty neat and I try to be,” I said.
She spotted my guitar leaning against the wall beside the short sofa under my bunk and asked, “Who’s the guitar player?”
“That would be me,” I answered, “but not much of one.”
“You're sure you're not being too modest?”
I wasn’t. I’m not that good.
“Eli's way better,” I said.
“Eli is pretty amazing when it comes to music, I'll admit.”
“He can play lead and barre chords and them impossible-to-finger jazz-style chords,” I said, “All I know good is my open chords.”
“ That's more than I know,” she said. “Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”
“Yeah. But really, it's just a hobby.”
“Well,” she said, “it's a nice hobby. You might be able to use it to serenade a girl someday.”
That’s when I confessed to her that I liked to sing. Not like on karaoke night. But really sing. Like sit down with my guitar and play three chords and sing a song. And then I did something I’ve never done before – I sang a song that I wrote for someone else to listen to. It wasn’t a good song. I’ll never claim that I’m a songwriter. Just… sometimes I’ll put together a line or two and maybe a tune will come out of it. It was called “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart.”
Lauren sat on the floor in front of me while I sat on the sofa and performed for her. When I finished, I told her I wasn’t satisfied with it. I said, “It sounds like a bad Townes Van Zant impersonation.”
“Luckily, you have lots of time to work on it,” she said, then added, “It's not a good serenading song, though.”
“No,” I said, caught by surprise that she was asking me to sing not for her, but to her.
It’s one thing to sing for someone, but to serenade a girl – wooin’ is what they used to call it – that was such a potentially embarrassing thing to do that I knew if I said anything at all right then, I’d chicken out.
I just had to pick the right song. Without another word, I started playing and singing:
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6sidWKX7sw)
Won’t you come away with me,
and begin something we can't understand,
I'm as lonely as the Irish Sea,
I'm as willing as the sand...
It’s a song nobody knows. It’s not new. But it’s the most honest song about falling in love that I’ve ever heard. Not that I know that much about falling in love…
As the last chord rang, she applauded.
“I think that’s a better song for serenadin’, “ I said.
“Yes it is!” She seemed contagiously happy. “Now I can say I've been serenaded.’
“I'm glad you liked it. First time I ever serenaded anybody.”
“I think you played pretty well, too.”
“You're too nice.”
“I don't know about that. It really was pretty good.”
“You're a good audience.”
And then things got awkward again. I mean, how do you follow up a love song to a pretty girl?
“So… um… want to go down and watch TV?” That was not what I wanted to say. “Or we could sit up here and talk?” That was closer.
“Both are good,” she said. “Do you... have a preference? I mean, really, either is fine.”
Okay, Wyatt, I said to myself, The ball is in your court. Do not blow it.
“It's kinda nice right here, to me,” I said and it sounded lame to me. Sincere, but lame.
“OK. We can stay here, then.”
“Are you comfortable?” She was still sitting on the floor.
“More or less…” She hesitated, then went on, “ but only so much... It is the floor, you know.”
“Right... Well, there's a cushiony sofa right here.”
She sat down beside me and I put my guitar back in its spot, leaned against the wall.
“It's softer than the floor. I'll give it that,” she said and smiled at me. “But I'm not sitting in your lap.”
This put me to stammering. What was she saying? Was I coming on too strong? Not strong enough?
She said, “It's OK. I was just joking.”
That only made me stammer more.
“Am I making you nervous?” she asked.
“Um… yeah,” I admitted.
“OK. Well, I'm a little nervous, too, if it makes you feel better.”
“Would you be offended if I said it doesn't?”
“Not at all. It's just me, though, right? Nothing to be nervous about. We see each other near every day in school, and there's cheer practice, so what's there to be nervous about?”
“Right…”
“So… Let's not be nervous. OK?””
“Right… No nervous.”
“Instead, you can... tell me more about what you think about Paragon. Like you said, not everyone gets to do what we can do. Are you planning on doing, you know, hero stuff?”
“I’m not sure. It’s fun and all…”
“Am I sensing a ‘but’…?”
“But... it's not real creative punchin' big stupid guys with garden shears for hands. I... I'd kinda like to be a writer.” The second time tonight I’ve revealed a secret to her.
“A writer? What do you like to write about?”
“Well… I have to keep a journal. I've been writin' in it.”
That was the wrong way to say it, because her eyes filled up with questions.
“Why do you have to?”
“It’s part of my…”
“Yeah…?”
“… probation?”
“What did you do?”
Another confession, this time a real one. Lauren had never heard about the gang I was in or my involvement in the diamond store robbery. I told her all about it.
She thought about it. I really figured she would get up and leave. I really thought I’d blown it again. But she was still sitting there beside me so that had to be a good sign, yeah?
“Well,” she said, “everybody makes mistakes, right? And you did the right thing in the end.”
I was relieved.
“Do you end writing about everything that happens?” she asked.
“Yeah, mostly. But not everything. You can't write down everything that happens in a day.”
“I suppose not. That would take another day, at least.”
I laughed.
“So... what are you going to put in there about me? If you mention me, that is.”
“Oh. Hmm… Maybe that you listened to the song I wrote and didn't laugh. Or maybe... that you like bein' serenaded.”
“Well, I liked the song.”
It was about then that I looked at her and it was like I’d never seen her before that moment. I had thought she was pretty – really pretty – the first time I saw her. But suddenly, her eyes were a deeper blue than the ocean reflecting the sky. Her hair was so golden it was blinding. Her lips... her lips were fire and I was a moth. It was a moment that I wanted to last. A moment that I wanted to keep. If there was a time to be bold, it was now.
“Maybe,” I said, looking into those eyes and leaning toward her, “I'll try to find the words to describe what it was like to kiss you.”
She giggled and said, “But you haven't kissed me...”
I leaned closer, “Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
Closer. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
So close that I can feel the heat of her breath. “I think I'm gonna have to find the words.”
“I hope they're good.”
They will be.
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
(I know this might be a little hard to follow, but Wyatt was unconscious during the occassion that is being discussed in this post. Suffice it to say that Roach reminded Wyatt that he had left Richard B. Cressman unprotected from Heidi, and that, instead of taking the time to plan a strategy for rectifying that mistake, Wyatt went running headlong into a confrontation with her. Heidi came out on the better end, although she was no match for Roach, James, and Mia when they came to Wyatt's aid. Wyatt wound up at Brickstown Infirmary. If Mia's, James', or Roach's players would like to elaborate on this from their characters' PoV, they are very welcomed to do so. 
)
Ms. Wilson looks over her glasses at me. She’s got her legal pad in her lap and her pencil in her hand. I’m getting really familiar with this and this chair is almost comfortable to me. She sits across from me, calm, non-accusing, giving me that look that says, Go ahead and lie to me – I can see through it. I can see your truth. Except I don’t think she really can. I think I can tell her whatever I want and she’ll accept it as truth or lie, whichever she wants to believe.
“Ms. Jenkins tells me you were injured yesterday, and treated for a few hours at Brickstown Infirmary.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry to hear you were hurt. It must have been some kind of battle.”
“It was.”
“According to Mia’s report, it was her, James, and Mr. Copeland who were with you at the time.”
“Yeah.”
“Mia and James aren’t known for the kind of risk-taking that I tend to associate with you and Roach.” She smiles to let me know that she’s not accusing me of leading Mia and James into trouble, though that’s exactly what I think she does mean.
“You’re dating Lauren Lombardi, I hear.”
The change of subject is to get me to let my guard down, to open up, but I can’t do that. Sorry, Ms. Wilson, I’ve got to be a little closed off right now.
“Yeah.”
“And how is that working out?”
Lauren: Don’t do anything else stupid without passing it by me first, okay?
“So far so good, I reckon.”
“Oh. That’s good to hear.”
“Okay then, let’s get back to what happened yesterday. What made you want to go on an impromptu patrol?”
Roach: Did you tell the police this guy was in danger? Cause if she was goin' to kill him 'just cause', it seems she might have it in her head to kill him even though you stopped her once.
“Just seemed like a good idea at the time. We were, you know, bored?”
“So you were all bored and decided to go out patrolling?”
“Yeah.”
She looks at me – scrutinizes me – and I know that she’s either looking for a reason to kick me out of school, or a reason not to.
“That’s what Mia’s report said.” She leans toward me, her eyes warm and nurturing. “Wyatt, you are, as you put it ‘hard to hurt’. You’re very hard to hurt. And yet, you were admitted with multiple contusions, a fractured orbital socket, and a concussion. How do you explain that?”
“I… lost focus. And when I lose focus…”
“You lose a good portion of your invulnerability, I know.”
“Yeah.”
“What distracted you?”
Heidi: What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again! I’ll show you not to come into MY house uninvited!
“I don’t remember.”
“What do you remember?”
“Getting hit in the face.”
“Okay.”
Usually she only leaves a pause after she asks me a question, but now there’s a silence between us. I’m not sure what it means.
Then she says, “I think you wanted to be hurt.”
I’m sure my expression says, “What!?” because she explains…
“You have self-esteem issues. We both know that.”
Yeah – I figured that out already. Having a father that called you a freak of nature will do that to you. I didn’t say that out loud though.
“I could recommend that your provisional license be suspended.”
Oh… no…
“But I’m not going to do that if –“
Here it comes…
“If you’ll attend a group session I hold on Saturdays. It’s for students who have… issues such as yourself.”
“Issues…?”
“Yes. Depression. Disassociation. Self-esteem issues. Eating disorders…”
She writes the time for this coming Saturday’s session on an appointment card and, after a few more questions, sends me on my way.
Dang… Group therapy? It would’ve been easier to tell her the truth. But then, if what Roach told me is true, then maybe I do need therapy. I mean… if it’s true that Heidi is my sister...
)Ms. Wilson looks over her glasses at me. She’s got her legal pad in her lap and her pencil in her hand. I’m getting really familiar with this and this chair is almost comfortable to me. She sits across from me, calm, non-accusing, giving me that look that says, Go ahead and lie to me – I can see through it. I can see your truth. Except I don’t think she really can. I think I can tell her whatever I want and she’ll accept it as truth or lie, whichever she wants to believe.
“Ms. Jenkins tells me you were injured yesterday, and treated for a few hours at Brickstown Infirmary.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry to hear you were hurt. It must have been some kind of battle.”
“It was.”
“According to Mia’s report, it was her, James, and Mr. Copeland who were with you at the time.”
“Yeah.”
“Mia and James aren’t known for the kind of risk-taking that I tend to associate with you and Roach.” She smiles to let me know that she’s not accusing me of leading Mia and James into trouble, though that’s exactly what I think she does mean.
“You’re dating Lauren Lombardi, I hear.”
The change of subject is to get me to let my guard down, to open up, but I can’t do that. Sorry, Ms. Wilson, I’ve got to be a little closed off right now.
“Yeah.”
“And how is that working out?”
Lauren: Don’t do anything else stupid without passing it by me first, okay?
“So far so good, I reckon.”
“Oh. That’s good to hear.”
“Okay then, let’s get back to what happened yesterday. What made you want to go on an impromptu patrol?”
Roach: Did you tell the police this guy was in danger? Cause if she was goin' to kill him 'just cause', it seems she might have it in her head to kill him even though you stopped her once.
“Just seemed like a good idea at the time. We were, you know, bored?”
“So you were all bored and decided to go out patrolling?”
“Yeah.”
She looks at me – scrutinizes me – and I know that she’s either looking for a reason to kick me out of school, or a reason not to.
“That’s what Mia’s report said.” She leans toward me, her eyes warm and nurturing. “Wyatt, you are, as you put it ‘hard to hurt’. You’re very hard to hurt. And yet, you were admitted with multiple contusions, a fractured orbital socket, and a concussion. How do you explain that?”
“I… lost focus. And when I lose focus…”
“You lose a good portion of your invulnerability, I know.”
“Yeah.”
“What distracted you?”
Heidi: What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again! I’ll show you not to come into MY house uninvited!
“I don’t remember.”
“What do you remember?”
“Getting hit in the face.”
“Okay.”
Usually she only leaves a pause after she asks me a question, but now there’s a silence between us. I’m not sure what it means.
Then she says, “I think you wanted to be hurt.”
I’m sure my expression says, “What!?” because she explains…
“You have self-esteem issues. We both know that.”
Yeah – I figured that out already. Having a father that called you a freak of nature will do that to you. I didn’t say that out loud though.
“I could recommend that your provisional license be suspended.”
Oh… no…
“But I’m not going to do that if –“
Here it comes…
“If you’ll attend a group session I hold on Saturdays. It’s for students who have… issues such as yourself.”
“Issues…?”
“Yes. Depression. Disassociation. Self-esteem issues. Eating disorders…”
She writes the time for this coming Saturday’s session on an appointment card and, after a few more questions, sends me on my way.
Dang… Group therapy? It would’ve been easier to tell her the truth. But then, if what Roach told me is true, then maybe I do need therapy. I mean… if it’s true that Heidi is my sister...
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
“Well, hello, Wyatt! What can I do for you today?”
Mrs. Hundley smiles at me from behind the counter as she greets me. She and her husband, Mr. Hundley have been running Galaxy Hardware and Supply in the Nebula District of Galaxy City for 25 years. Mr. Deathrage orders some of the school’s supplies and equipment here. Since I’ve been doing volunteer work on the grounds, he’s been sending me a couple times a week to pick up his order.
“Hi, Mrs. Hundley, I’m here for the school’s pickup.”
Mrs. Hundley turns to the open doorway that leads to the back of the store and shouts, “Charles! Westbrook order!”
From deep within the recesses of tall shelves, Charles Hundley shouts back, “On it, hon!”
As usual, Mrs. Hundley makes small talk while I wait. I listen – mostly – and look at the photographs that hang on the wall behind her. She inherited this store from her parents and the pictures are of her family, in the store and away from it. Pictures of her with her parents when she was very young and not quite so very young. Her senior portrait from High School. Mr. Hundley’s college graduation photo. At least three someones’ baby pictures. There’s one picture of a young Mrs. Hundley with golden-brown, teased big, and she’s wearing a long neon pink tee-shirt with a wide belt at the waist and leggings that showed off her legs. She was about my age when that picture was taken. She’s older than my mom now, and she still has great legs.
Mrs. Hundley says something that I don’t quite catch, so I say, “I’m sorry?”
Mrs. Hundley says, “I said, how’s it going with Lauren?”
“Oh, I… um… we’re...”
Mr. Hundley comes out of the back carrying a big box. He’s a tall man, muscular and fit, and except his thinning grey hair and some crow’s feet around his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t aged a day since the wedding photo on the wall. He sets the box on the floor at the end of the counter and says, “I thought her name was Mia…”
“Mia’s the girl he liked who already had a boyfriend, remember?” Mrs. Hundley says.
Mr. Hundley says, “Ah,” then says, “I’m having trouble keeping up with your love life.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hundley both laugh. I’m pretty sure I blush. I always blush.
I make a half-hearted attempt to laugh with them so that they don’t feel like they’re laughing at me and when the laughter stops, they both look at me sympathetically.
“I remember being that age,” Mrs. Hundley says, “I think I got my heart broken every week.”
“Not by me,” Mr. Hundley tells her. “I pined for you from seventh grade to the end of our Senior year.”
“Only because it took you that long to work up your nerve. Can you believe that, Wyatt? He was in love with me for five years and then finally told me by saying he had turned down a scholarship to State because he wanted to date me.” She punches his arm and he smiles.
“Best decision I ever made.”
I smile too.
Mrs. Hundley huddles over the counter as she writes up my invoice and says, “So… Lauren?”
I can’t help but smile. When I think of Lauren, I smile. “Lauren’s great! I think she might be…” I stop myself before I say, the One, because I don’t know, but I think maybe, and then I stammer on for a suitable substitute. “I mean she’s…”
“The Real Deal?” Mr. Hundley says with a grin.
“Yeah – the Real Deal.”
“Aww…” from the both of them.
Since I hate having all this attention on me, I ask Mr. Hundley, “Why didn’t you go to college here, in Paragon?”\
The store is suddenly quiet and I know that I have asked the wrong question.
Mrs. Hundley finishes up the invoice and slides it across the counter to me, but never takes her hand off of it. “Things happen, Wyatt,” she says.
I nod but her hand is still on the invoice. Her eyes look past me, past the plate glass window in the front of the store, past the street and the cars passing by, past the buildings across the street. I look to Mr. Hundley with a questioning glance, but he’s following her gaze.
“Sometimes life changes your plans,” Mr. Hundley says at last.
His wife blinks, comes back from wherever she had gone to, and says, “We got pregnant right after graduation. It was a bad time. We…”
“We lost her parents,” Mr. Hundley says, “car accident.”
“All we had left was each other,” Mrs. Hundley says, and her husband steps up and wraps his arms around her.
“Our son is twenty-four years old now,” Mr. Hundley says. “We might have had to forego college to run the store and raise a child, but we made sure he would get the opportunities we never had.”
I look past them to the photograph wall at what I had always thought was Mr. Hundley shaking the dean’s hand as her received his college diploma. But it’s not him. He never graduated.
Mrs. Hundley recovers and says, “But you don’t want to hear about our lives. I need to get you out of here so you can get back to living your own.” She smiles.
I sign the invoice and as she always does, she gives me the yellow copy to take with me. I tell them goodbye, see you next week and they tell me to be careful out there and I pick up Mr. Deathrage’s box and walk out of the store.
…opportunities we never had.
Beside Galaxy Hardware and Supply is Simpson’s Pharmacy. I walk inside and set my box down beside the door.
“May I help you?” a man about the same age as my father asks from behind the counter.
“Yes,” I say and try not to blush as I tell him what I want.
Mrs. Hundley smiles at me from behind the counter as she greets me. She and her husband, Mr. Hundley have been running Galaxy Hardware and Supply in the Nebula District of Galaxy City for 25 years. Mr. Deathrage orders some of the school’s supplies and equipment here. Since I’ve been doing volunteer work on the grounds, he’s been sending me a couple times a week to pick up his order.
“Hi, Mrs. Hundley, I’m here for the school’s pickup.”
Mrs. Hundley turns to the open doorway that leads to the back of the store and shouts, “Charles! Westbrook order!”
From deep within the recesses of tall shelves, Charles Hundley shouts back, “On it, hon!”
As usual, Mrs. Hundley makes small talk while I wait. I listen – mostly – and look at the photographs that hang on the wall behind her. She inherited this store from her parents and the pictures are of her family, in the store and away from it. Pictures of her with her parents when she was very young and not quite so very young. Her senior portrait from High School. Mr. Hundley’s college graduation photo. At least three someones’ baby pictures. There’s one picture of a young Mrs. Hundley with golden-brown, teased big, and she’s wearing a long neon pink tee-shirt with a wide belt at the waist and leggings that showed off her legs. She was about my age when that picture was taken. She’s older than my mom now, and she still has great legs.
Mrs. Hundley says something that I don’t quite catch, so I say, “I’m sorry?”
Mrs. Hundley says, “I said, how’s it going with Lauren?”
“Oh, I… um… we’re...”
Mr. Hundley comes out of the back carrying a big box. He’s a tall man, muscular and fit, and except his thinning grey hair and some crow’s feet around his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t aged a day since the wedding photo on the wall. He sets the box on the floor at the end of the counter and says, “I thought her name was Mia…”
“Mia’s the girl he liked who already had a boyfriend, remember?” Mrs. Hundley says.
Mr. Hundley says, “Ah,” then says, “I’m having trouble keeping up with your love life.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hundley both laugh. I’m pretty sure I blush. I always blush.
I make a half-hearted attempt to laugh with them so that they don’t feel like they’re laughing at me and when the laughter stops, they both look at me sympathetically.
“I remember being that age,” Mrs. Hundley says, “I think I got my heart broken every week.”
“Not by me,” Mr. Hundley tells her. “I pined for you from seventh grade to the end of our Senior year.”
“Only because it took you that long to work up your nerve. Can you believe that, Wyatt? He was in love with me for five years and then finally told me by saying he had turned down a scholarship to State because he wanted to date me.” She punches his arm and he smiles.
“Best decision I ever made.”
I smile too.
Mrs. Hundley huddles over the counter as she writes up my invoice and says, “So… Lauren?”
I can’t help but smile. When I think of Lauren, I smile. “Lauren’s great! I think she might be…” I stop myself before I say, the One, because I don’t know, but I think maybe, and then I stammer on for a suitable substitute. “I mean she’s…”
“The Real Deal?” Mr. Hundley says with a grin.
“Yeah – the Real Deal.”
“Aww…” from the both of them.
Since I hate having all this attention on me, I ask Mr. Hundley, “Why didn’t you go to college here, in Paragon?”\
The store is suddenly quiet and I know that I have asked the wrong question.
Mrs. Hundley finishes up the invoice and slides it across the counter to me, but never takes her hand off of it. “Things happen, Wyatt,” she says.
I nod but her hand is still on the invoice. Her eyes look past me, past the plate glass window in the front of the store, past the street and the cars passing by, past the buildings across the street. I look to Mr. Hundley with a questioning glance, but he’s following her gaze.
“Sometimes life changes your plans,” Mr. Hundley says at last.
His wife blinks, comes back from wherever she had gone to, and says, “We got pregnant right after graduation. It was a bad time. We…”
“We lost her parents,” Mr. Hundley says, “car accident.”
“All we had left was each other,” Mrs. Hundley says, and her husband steps up and wraps his arms around her.
“Our son is twenty-four years old now,” Mr. Hundley says. “We might have had to forego college to run the store and raise a child, but we made sure he would get the opportunities we never had.”
I look past them to the photograph wall at what I had always thought was Mr. Hundley shaking the dean’s hand as her received his college diploma. But it’s not him. He never graduated.
Mrs. Hundley recovers and says, “But you don’t want to hear about our lives. I need to get you out of here so you can get back to living your own.” She smiles.
I sign the invoice and as she always does, she gives me the yellow copy to take with me. I tell them goodbye, see you next week and they tell me to be careful out there and I pick up Mr. Deathrage’s box and walk out of the store.
…opportunities we never had.
Beside Galaxy Hardware and Supply is Simpson’s Pharmacy. I walk inside and set my box down beside the door.
“May I help you?” a man about the same age as my father asks from behind the counter.
“Yes,” I say and try not to blush as I tell him what I want.
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Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
“So, Scarf Boy, things are getting serious with the new honey, huh?”
“Were you spying on us?”
I already know the answer to my question. Heidi had been spying on us for weeks. The first time I’d noticed was in Galaxy City where a bunch of us from Westbrook were hanging out. I saw her hovering a couple hundred feet above us. I left and chased after her, but she was flying and I couldn’t keep up. And there were other times (like once when Lauren and I were together at our favorite spot) that I thought I saw her. Today, minutes ago, I saw her in front of the hardware store. I noticed her right after Lauren had kissed me goodbye and headed back to campus. Heidi didn’t run when I saw her this time, and after Lauren was safely gone, followed me back into the store.
“Maybe I am,” Heidi says with that canary-eating grin of hers. “Or maybe I just happened to see you and wondered how you were doing.”
“Right.”
I haven’t spoken to Heidi for weeks. The last time was when she tried to kill me and my friends.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I think that’s bullcrap.”
“Bullcrap?” she say. “Okay then – I am spying on you. I just haven’t seen you in a while and I… well… I miss you.”
“You tried to kill me!”
“I was going through a hard time!”
Standing there in her green and gold costume with its metallic highlights, she looks every bit as beautiful and inspiring as a superhero is supposed to be. No one would guess that she had, on at least one occasion, attempted to murder an innocent man. (Two occasions if you count what she did to me and tried to do to Mia, James, and Roach.) But there is something in her voice now, something… different.
We stand across the counter from each other. She keeps her distance, probably aware of the handful of roofing tacks I scooped from the bin beside the front door. If she so much as takes one step closer to me, I’ll throw them. At this range, it will be easy to hit her, and it will hurt. A lot.
“What do you want from me, Heidi?”
She frowns and the expression looks incongruous with the gold domino mask which hides her identity from strangers.
“Your friend, the psi… he did something to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“All these memories came into my head… It was like… like… people – so many people I couldn’t count them – came rushing into my head and it was like… my brain stretched like a balloon being inflated too fast until it explodes…”
“And?”
“And it… changed me.”
That day we confronted her, Roach said she stole his powers and it overwhelmed her. I imagine it would be just like she said, your head getting filled with the memories of other people. I don’t know how Roach deals with it. It reminds me of that story, “the Martian” by Ray Bradbury. Even though Roach and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore, I still feel sorry for him because of the burden he carries.
And now I feel sorry for Heidi too.
I say, “You needed to change, yeah. I hope whatever happened – it’s changed you for the good.”
She stands beside a spinner rack of seed packs and read the labels. It’s filled with late-season stuff now: lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, peas, carrots, and other vegetables. She gives it a push and watches it turn.
“You went out of town for a few days, the two of you.”
“We went to visit my mom before classes started up again.”
“Oh. Your mom. That’s nice.”
The word “mom” is a touchy subject.
“Heidi… I –“
“You don’t have to apologize for having a mother. That’s one of the things I want to tell you. I’m not… I’m not out to kill anyone anymore.”
My expression asks, “Is this a trick?”
“I know, right? But like… you still have your mom. Maybe whatever happened to my mom… just happened.”
Okay that sounds sincere.
“Also, I’m really happy that you seem to have found someone.”
I don’t think she’s here for a fight. I think she maybe really has changed. Which is good, because it’s Saturday: Mrs. Hundley is at the rehab center with Mr. Hundley and I’m running the store. With all their other problems, the last thing they need is to have the place trashed by me and Heidi. I drop my handful of roofing tacks into a box on the shelf below the counter.
“Thanks. Lauren’s really special.”
“Lauren. Pretty name. Pretty girl too.”
“I think so, too.” I smile.
She smiles.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us. I have something I’ve got to tell her. A couple of somethings I guess.
“Wyatt –“
“Heidi –“
We say each other’s name at the same time. After we’re done laughing I let her go first.
“Wyatt… I know how you feel about Lauren. I’ve… seen. But I… I’ve come to realize that as bad as I treated you – tried to kill you – still I…”
“We’re related. Maybe brother and sister.” There it is. I blurt it out just like that.
For the first time today I see a hint of the old Heidi in her eyes.
“Liar.” She spits the word in my face as if its acid would burn my eyes.
“It’s true,” I tell her. “Roach, when he touched minds with you, he said your mind felt like my mind. He said it felt like we were… siblings.”
“That can’t be true,” she says. “Unless my dad slept with your mom, because he’s definitely my dad.”
“I’m just tellin’ you what he said.”
“Then there’s another explanation for it.”
I nod and then shrug. I haven’t given the matter a second thought in weeks. So much has been going on in my own life that finding out exactly what connection we shared just hasn’t been a priority. But that’s the problem with leaving things hanging – sooner or later the rope winds up around your neck.
“There’s something else,” I say. I have another piece of information that I was going to keep from her. I was going to investigate it myself with Lauren’s help. But Heidi has more stake in this mystery than I do, and if she’s really given up trying to kill people…
She looks at me with her sparkling green eyes and for a reason I have never been able to explain, I feel lost in them.
“What is it?” she asks.
I pull my gaze away from her and look down at my hands as I go on.
“There’s this girl at school. She can… read things. She can get a history of an object by touching it and see it in her mind.”
“Psychometry.”
“Right. Anyway, I had her touch one of those birth-control pill boxes.” I pause to let that sink in.
“And?”
“And she gave me a name: Calvin Jones.”
“Were you spying on us?”
I already know the answer to my question. Heidi had been spying on us for weeks. The first time I’d noticed was in Galaxy City where a bunch of us from Westbrook were hanging out. I saw her hovering a couple hundred feet above us. I left and chased after her, but she was flying and I couldn’t keep up. And there were other times (like once when Lauren and I were together at our favorite spot) that I thought I saw her. Today, minutes ago, I saw her in front of the hardware store. I noticed her right after Lauren had kissed me goodbye and headed back to campus. Heidi didn’t run when I saw her this time, and after Lauren was safely gone, followed me back into the store.
“Maybe I am,” Heidi says with that canary-eating grin of hers. “Or maybe I just happened to see you and wondered how you were doing.”
“Right.”
I haven’t spoken to Heidi for weeks. The last time was when she tried to kill me and my friends.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I think that’s bullcrap.”
“Bullcrap?” she say. “Okay then – I am spying on you. I just haven’t seen you in a while and I… well… I miss you.”
“You tried to kill me!”
“I was going through a hard time!”
Standing there in her green and gold costume with its metallic highlights, she looks every bit as beautiful and inspiring as a superhero is supposed to be. No one would guess that she had, on at least one occasion, attempted to murder an innocent man. (Two occasions if you count what she did to me and tried to do to Mia, James, and Roach.) But there is something in her voice now, something… different.
We stand across the counter from each other. She keeps her distance, probably aware of the handful of roofing tacks I scooped from the bin beside the front door. If she so much as takes one step closer to me, I’ll throw them. At this range, it will be easy to hit her, and it will hurt. A lot.
“What do you want from me, Heidi?”
She frowns and the expression looks incongruous with the gold domino mask which hides her identity from strangers.
“Your friend, the psi… he did something to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“All these memories came into my head… It was like… like… people – so many people I couldn’t count them – came rushing into my head and it was like… my brain stretched like a balloon being inflated too fast until it explodes…”
“And?”
“And it… changed me.”
That day we confronted her, Roach said she stole his powers and it overwhelmed her. I imagine it would be just like she said, your head getting filled with the memories of other people. I don’t know how Roach deals with it. It reminds me of that story, “the Martian” by Ray Bradbury. Even though Roach and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore, I still feel sorry for him because of the burden he carries.
And now I feel sorry for Heidi too.
I say, “You needed to change, yeah. I hope whatever happened – it’s changed you for the good.”
She stands beside a spinner rack of seed packs and read the labels. It’s filled with late-season stuff now: lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, peas, carrots, and other vegetables. She gives it a push and watches it turn.
“You went out of town for a few days, the two of you.”
“We went to visit my mom before classes started up again.”
“Oh. Your mom. That’s nice.”
The word “mom” is a touchy subject.
“Heidi… I –“
“You don’t have to apologize for having a mother. That’s one of the things I want to tell you. I’m not… I’m not out to kill anyone anymore.”
My expression asks, “Is this a trick?”
“I know, right? But like… you still have your mom. Maybe whatever happened to my mom… just happened.”
Okay that sounds sincere.
“Also, I’m really happy that you seem to have found someone.”
I don’t think she’s here for a fight. I think she maybe really has changed. Which is good, because it’s Saturday: Mrs. Hundley is at the rehab center with Mr. Hundley and I’m running the store. With all their other problems, the last thing they need is to have the place trashed by me and Heidi. I drop my handful of roofing tacks into a box on the shelf below the counter.
“Thanks. Lauren’s really special.”
“Lauren. Pretty name. Pretty girl too.”
“I think so, too.” I smile.
She smiles.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us. I have something I’ve got to tell her. A couple of somethings I guess.
“Wyatt –“
“Heidi –“
We say each other’s name at the same time. After we’re done laughing I let her go first.
“Wyatt… I know how you feel about Lauren. I’ve… seen. But I… I’ve come to realize that as bad as I treated you – tried to kill you – still I…”
“We’re related. Maybe brother and sister.” There it is. I blurt it out just like that.
For the first time today I see a hint of the old Heidi in her eyes.
“Liar.” She spits the word in my face as if its acid would burn my eyes.
“It’s true,” I tell her. “Roach, when he touched minds with you, he said your mind felt like my mind. He said it felt like we were… siblings.”
“That can’t be true,” she says. “Unless my dad slept with your mom, because he’s definitely my dad.”
“I’m just tellin’ you what he said.”
“Then there’s another explanation for it.”
I nod and then shrug. I haven’t given the matter a second thought in weeks. So much has been going on in my own life that finding out exactly what connection we shared just hasn’t been a priority. But that’s the problem with leaving things hanging – sooner or later the rope winds up around your neck.
“There’s something else,” I say. I have another piece of information that I was going to keep from her. I was going to investigate it myself with Lauren’s help. But Heidi has more stake in this mystery than I do, and if she’s really given up trying to kill people…
She looks at me with her sparkling green eyes and for a reason I have never been able to explain, I feel lost in them.
“What is it?” she asks.
I pull my gaze away from her and look down at my hands as I go on.
“There’s this girl at school. She can… read things. She can get a history of an object by touching it and see it in her mind.”
“Psychometry.”
“Right. Anyway, I had her touch one of those birth-control pill boxes.” I pause to let that sink in.
“And?”
“And she gave me a name: Calvin Jones.”
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
“I – I can’t.”
“I don’t want to do this alone.”
Not a single customer had come into the store all morning. It was only going on ten o’clock now, and I was supposed to keep the store open until noon. Mrs. Hundley would come in then and take over until five o’clock. Mr. Hundley was doing well in rehab. His therapists say that in a few months you’d never be able to tell he ever had a stroke. (That was great news as when it first happened the prognosis had been bleak.) I agreed to help them out until he was able to come back to work.
“I have to stay here until twelve, and then I have a cheer meeting this afternoon. After that, I have a date.”
After I gave Heidi the name I’d gotten from Cassie, I told her that I had already found an address and that there was a Calvin Jones living in Founders Falls, not far from where she lived with her father. She wanted to check it out. Now.
“But I don’t want to wait. I’m about to explode! You don’t know how long I’ve waited for answers.”
I sigh. Her eyes plead with me. Her red lips form a thin, desperate smile. I call Mrs. Hundley’s phone. Heidi pumps her fist and mouths, “Yes!” silently.
Against all my better judgment; against the advice of all my friends; despite a promise made to Lauren, I go with her.
I wake up and look out the window. Behind stately old buildings the sun is setting, mixing its orange glow with the shimmer of the war walls. I feel displaced, like I’ve lost something. At first, I have trouble remembering my name.
Wyatt. My name is Wyatt.
Someone stirs beside me on the bed. I try to remember her name. Laura…? It’s fuzzy, harder than remembering my own name. Even though I can’t remember her name but when she touches her lips to the back of my neck it feels right. It feels good.
“Wyatt…?” Her voice is soft and barely audible.
I wish I could remember her name. It would be good right not if I could whisper her name back to her. Laurel? She has golden hair. When I roll over and look at her, she will have golden hair.
“Wyatt…?” she says louder and there is a bewilderment in her voice that echoes my own state.
I roll over to tell her that it’s all right. That this is right, the way things should be.
Green eyes greet me, and hair that is red and falls to her shoulders in tangled waves. I remember her name.
“Heidi!”
“Wyatt, I – “
“Damn you! Damn you!”
My feet don’t touch the floor as I leap from the bed and out the window.
“I don’t want to do this alone.”
Not a single customer had come into the store all morning. It was only going on ten o’clock now, and I was supposed to keep the store open until noon. Mrs. Hundley would come in then and take over until five o’clock. Mr. Hundley was doing well in rehab. His therapists say that in a few months you’d never be able to tell he ever had a stroke. (That was great news as when it first happened the prognosis had been bleak.) I agreed to help them out until he was able to come back to work.
“I have to stay here until twelve, and then I have a cheer meeting this afternoon. After that, I have a date.”
After I gave Heidi the name I’d gotten from Cassie, I told her that I had already found an address and that there was a Calvin Jones living in Founders Falls, not far from where she lived with her father. She wanted to check it out. Now.
“But I don’t want to wait. I’m about to explode! You don’t know how long I’ve waited for answers.”
I sigh. Her eyes plead with me. Her red lips form a thin, desperate smile. I call Mrs. Hundley’s phone. Heidi pumps her fist and mouths, “Yes!” silently.
Against all my better judgment; against the advice of all my friends; despite a promise made to Lauren, I go with her.
I wake up and look out the window. Behind stately old buildings the sun is setting, mixing its orange glow with the shimmer of the war walls. I feel displaced, like I’ve lost something. At first, I have trouble remembering my name.
Wyatt. My name is Wyatt.
Someone stirs beside me on the bed. I try to remember her name. Laura…? It’s fuzzy, harder than remembering my own name. Even though I can’t remember her name but when she touches her lips to the back of my neck it feels right. It feels good.
“Wyatt…?” Her voice is soft and barely audible.
I wish I could remember her name. It would be good right not if I could whisper her name back to her. Laurel? She has golden hair. When I roll over and look at her, she will have golden hair.
“Wyatt…?” she says louder and there is a bewilderment in her voice that echoes my own state.
I roll over to tell her that it’s all right. That this is right, the way things should be.
Green eyes greet me, and hair that is red and falls to her shoulders in tangled waves. I remember her name.
“Heidi!”
“Wyatt, I – “
“Damn you! Damn you!”
My feet don’t touch the floor as I leap from the bed and out the window.
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
Phone call number 1
Wyatt: Hi, Mom.
Jennifer: Wyatt! Hi!
Wyatt: Sorry I didn’t call sooner.
Jennifer: It’s okay. You’ve been busy. How was the flight back?
Wyatt: It was uneventful. Lauren fell asleep on my shoulder.
Jennifer: Awww… How’s she doin’?
Wyatt: A’ight.
Jennifer: When you say “all right” like that, it means it’s not all right.
Wyatt: Some stuff happened. I… did somethin’ stupid and we had like a… fight.
Jennifer: Lord, she better get used to you doin’ somethin’ stupid. You’re a man. Did you make things right with her?
Wyatt: I think so. It’s hard to just make things right, y’know?
Jennifer: I know.
silence
Jennifer: I like her. If you mess things up with her I’m going to be really pissed off.
Wyatt: I know.
silence
Jennifer: There’s something else wrong.
Wyatt: Mom… I’m gonna ask you somethin’ crazy…
Jennifer: Wouldn’t be the first time.
Wyatt: Um… is there a possibility that… my dad isn’t my dad?
Jennifer: Okay… that’s a little bit different kind of crazy. No, son. There is zero chance that anyone besides your father is your father. Believe me – if there was I’d happily tell you.
Wyatt: Sorry. I didn’t mean…
Jennifer: It’s okay. Just tell me why you asked.
Wyatt: There’s this girl… and she… we --
Jennifer: If her name isn’t Lauren you shouldn’t be a “we” with her.
Wyatt: No, mom. It’s not like that. It’s… I think she might be my sister.
Jennifer: What?
Wyatt: It’s complicated.
Jennifer: She thinks your father…?
Wyatt: No… her dad is… her dad.
Jennifer: She’s not your sister. Not even your half-sister unless your father –
Wyatt: No. It’s not… I mean… it can’t be… She’s sure about her dad. I just…
Jennifer: You just thought that I…?
Wyatt: No… I don’t… don’t know. I don’t know what I think.
Jennifer: Are you tryin’ to piss off all the women who love you?
Wyatt: Sorry. I didn’t… really…
Jennifer: What makes this girl think she’s your sister?
Wyatt: It’s not her. She doesn’t think… It’s –
Jennifer: You? You think I screwed around with her daddy?
Wyatt: What?! No! I don’t know what to think.
Jennifer: Okay then – why do you think she’s your sister?
Wyatt: Roach… he says our minds are like… alike. Like siblings. Maybe like twins.
Jennifer: Roach? That cute little psychic boy?
Wyatt: Yeah. He’s psychic.
Jennifer: He’s adorable. Why would he say something like that?
Wyatt: He… has been around us both? And… he… kinda just figured it out by accident?
Jennifer: Who’s the girl?
Wyatt: Um… Heidi?
Jennifer: Son.
Wyatt: I know.
Jennifer: Heidi. The one who dragged you into the ladies room at the mall.
Wyatt: I know.
Jennifer: The one who tried to kill you.
Wyatt: I know!
Jennifer: Then why are you even talking to her?
Wyatt: I know…
Jennifer: This what you and Lauren were fighting about?
Wyatt: Yeah. It’s part of it.
Jennifer: If you mess things up with her I’m going to be really pissed off.
Wyatt: I know. You already said that.
Jennifer: It’s called driving a point home. I want to drive that home and park it in your garage.
Wyatt: I’m going to make it right with her.
Jennifer: You better.
Wyatt: We had a really good time on our visit.
Jennifer: I’m glad. I want you to come back.
Wyatt: We’re trying to figure out when…
Jennifer: If you break up, I get custody of Lauren.
Wyatt: We’re not breakin’ up.
Jennifer: I know.
Wyatt: I got another call I need to take, Mom.
Jennifer: Okay, hon. Love you.
Wyatt: Love you too. I’ll call you back later.
Phone call number 2
Wyatt: Hello?
Heidi: Hi. It’s me.
Wyatt: Heidi.
Heidi: For what happened… I’m sorry.
Wyatt: All right.
Heidi: Lauren told you I talked to her, right?
Wyatt: Yeah. She told me.
Heidi: She told you nothing happened, right? We didn’t…
Wyatt: She told me.
Heidi: It wasn’t me. I know you think I did it, but it wasn’t me. Someone put us there together. I don’t know how, but they did.
Wyatt: I figured that out.
Heidi: Then why are won’t you talk? Why the short answers?
Wyatt: What do you want, Heidi?
Heidi: I want to know where we came from. I want to know why you have a mom and I don’t. I want to know who stole an afternoon of memories from us. I want to know why when I’m around you I… I want to know… I want to know the answers.
Wyatt: Heidi…
Heidi: Wyatt…
Wyatt: I love Lauren.
Heidi: I don’t love you, Wyatt. It’s not love. It’s –
Wyatt: I know what it is. We can’t let it happen, okay? It can’t happen. If you can’t agree with that, then I can’t even talk to you anymore.
Heidi: Okay.
Wyatt: Look. I want answers too. But no more violence. No tryin’ to kill anybody. And if you have a plan, you let me in on it. No more usin’ me.
Heidi: Okay.
Wyatt: I have somewhere to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Wyatt: Hi, Mom.
Jennifer: Wyatt! Hi!
Wyatt: Sorry I didn’t call sooner.
Jennifer: It’s okay. You’ve been busy. How was the flight back?
Wyatt: It was uneventful. Lauren fell asleep on my shoulder.
Jennifer: Awww… How’s she doin’?
Wyatt: A’ight.
Jennifer: When you say “all right” like that, it means it’s not all right.
Wyatt: Some stuff happened. I… did somethin’ stupid and we had like a… fight.
Jennifer: Lord, she better get used to you doin’ somethin’ stupid. You’re a man. Did you make things right with her?
Wyatt: I think so. It’s hard to just make things right, y’know?
Jennifer: I know.
silence
Jennifer: I like her. If you mess things up with her I’m going to be really pissed off.
Wyatt: I know.
silence
Jennifer: There’s something else wrong.
Wyatt: Mom… I’m gonna ask you somethin’ crazy…
Jennifer: Wouldn’t be the first time.
Wyatt: Um… is there a possibility that… my dad isn’t my dad?
Jennifer: Okay… that’s a little bit different kind of crazy. No, son. There is zero chance that anyone besides your father is your father. Believe me – if there was I’d happily tell you.
Wyatt: Sorry. I didn’t mean…
Jennifer: It’s okay. Just tell me why you asked.
Wyatt: There’s this girl… and she… we --
Jennifer: If her name isn’t Lauren you shouldn’t be a “we” with her.
Wyatt: No, mom. It’s not like that. It’s… I think she might be my sister.
Jennifer: What?
Wyatt: It’s complicated.
Jennifer: She thinks your father…?
Wyatt: No… her dad is… her dad.
Jennifer: She’s not your sister. Not even your half-sister unless your father –
Wyatt: No. It’s not… I mean… it can’t be… She’s sure about her dad. I just…
Jennifer: You just thought that I…?
Wyatt: No… I don’t… don’t know. I don’t know what I think.
Jennifer: Are you tryin’ to piss off all the women who love you?
Wyatt: Sorry. I didn’t… really…
Jennifer: What makes this girl think she’s your sister?
Wyatt: It’s not her. She doesn’t think… It’s –
Jennifer: You? You think I screwed around with her daddy?
Wyatt: What?! No! I don’t know what to think.
Jennifer: Okay then – why do you think she’s your sister?
Wyatt: Roach… he says our minds are like… alike. Like siblings. Maybe like twins.
Jennifer: Roach? That cute little psychic boy?
Wyatt: Yeah. He’s psychic.
Jennifer: He’s adorable. Why would he say something like that?
Wyatt: He… has been around us both? And… he… kinda just figured it out by accident?
Jennifer: Who’s the girl?
Wyatt: Um… Heidi?
Jennifer: Son.
Wyatt: I know.
Jennifer: Heidi. The one who dragged you into the ladies room at the mall.
Wyatt: I know.
Jennifer: The one who tried to kill you.
Wyatt: I know!
Jennifer: Then why are you even talking to her?
Wyatt: I know…
Jennifer: This what you and Lauren were fighting about?
Wyatt: Yeah. It’s part of it.
Jennifer: If you mess things up with her I’m going to be really pissed off.
Wyatt: I know. You already said that.
Jennifer: It’s called driving a point home. I want to drive that home and park it in your garage.
Wyatt: I’m going to make it right with her.
Jennifer: You better.
Wyatt: We had a really good time on our visit.
Jennifer: I’m glad. I want you to come back.
Wyatt: We’re trying to figure out when…
Jennifer: If you break up, I get custody of Lauren.
Wyatt: We’re not breakin’ up.
Jennifer: I know.
Wyatt: I got another call I need to take, Mom.
Jennifer: Okay, hon. Love you.
Wyatt: Love you too. I’ll call you back later.
Phone call number 2
Wyatt: Hello?
Heidi: Hi. It’s me.
Wyatt: Heidi.
Heidi: For what happened… I’m sorry.
Wyatt: All right.
Heidi: Lauren told you I talked to her, right?
Wyatt: Yeah. She told me.
Heidi: She told you nothing happened, right? We didn’t…
Wyatt: She told me.
Heidi: It wasn’t me. I know you think I did it, but it wasn’t me. Someone put us there together. I don’t know how, but they did.
Wyatt: I figured that out.
Heidi: Then why are won’t you talk? Why the short answers?
Wyatt: What do you want, Heidi?
Heidi: I want to know where we came from. I want to know why you have a mom and I don’t. I want to know who stole an afternoon of memories from us. I want to know why when I’m around you I… I want to know… I want to know the answers.
Wyatt: Heidi…
Heidi: Wyatt…
Wyatt: I love Lauren.
Heidi: I don’t love you, Wyatt. It’s not love. It’s –
Wyatt: I know what it is. We can’t let it happen, okay? It can’t happen. If you can’t agree with that, then I can’t even talk to you anymore.
Heidi: Okay.
Wyatt: Look. I want answers too. But no more violence. No tryin’ to kill anybody. And if you have a plan, you let me in on it. No more usin’ me.
Heidi: Okay.
Wyatt: I have somewhere to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
The teenagers were at it again. He could hear them, their distinct adolescent voices buzzing away, making plans via two-way radios on a channel that they obviously believed was private. She was hovering over the building he called his home and the boy was on a rooftop nearby. They were planning to confront him. The boy would distract him, and then the girl would swoop down from the sky to steal his “powers” and then they would talk. It was a laughable plan.
Of all the Project 8 children, only three had arrived in Paragon City so far. Only these two were making a nuisance of themselves, which meant that the third – the lizard girl – was still clueless as to her origins.
If only De-Crypter hadn’t betrayed him and sent the package of evidence to Herman Pretorius, then he would not be in this position. He understood De-Crypter’s reasoning. It was unpleasant business, but the Eight had to survive. All of the children must be found and brought here to Paragon City. Until then, he would have to continue this dance.
“Pay attention, Little Boy Blue.”
That was Heidi’s new name for me. Lauren gave me a new patrol uniform for my birthday and it was blue. I like it a lot. I just wish we hadn’t broken up right after she gave it to me. And I wish Heidi would quit making fun of my costumes. She made fun of the one Mia designed for me too. I mean, I could call her the Green Fairy or something for hers, if I was so inclined to.
“I am paying attention,” I said, and I was. “But what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. Why should we change our plan and just go knock on his door? I’m pretty sure that’s what we did the first two times, and you know where that got us.”
“How do we know? We don’t remember either time.” Heidi’s voice cracked and popped over the radio as if there was some interference from something. “Maybe we attacked him outright.”
“Why don’t we just ask your father?” I have come to the conclusion that Heidi’s dad is in cahoots with this “Calvin Jones”. I mean, both times we’ve tried to investigate him we’ve wound up back in Heidi’s room. The first time maybe we were snuck in, but the second time? It’s like they have free access to Dr. Pretorius’ apartment. How else could you just come and go like that unless someone lets you in?
“My dad wouldn’t have let them put us together like that.”
She’s referring to the first time it happened, when we woke up together in her bed. And she’s probably right about that. Her dad wouldn’t let anyone do that. He adores Heidi and thinks she’s as pure as Christmas snow. And he doesn’t like me.
“Maybe so, but the second time…? How do you explain that?”
“I don’t know. But my dad isn’t involved.” Heidi’s always sure that her dad wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
“If you say so...” I’m not so sure.
The second time we didn’t realize it happened. If Lauren hadn’t shown me our text messages, then I wouldn’t have even noticed.
I remember being at Heidi’s place (I was emo-ing out, as she calls it) while she searched on both our laptops for a name we neither one remembered anymore. I was sitting on the floor and Heidi was sitting on her bed. I was thinking hard about calling Lauren and begging her to take me back. The next thing I remember is Lauren texting me asking if I was back yet. (I was on Heidi’s cell phone – where had mine gone?) My answer to her? “Back from where?” According Lauren’s cell phone, we had been texting for good while before I told her my phone battery was low and that I was somewhere that I couldn’t charge it. I don’t remember that at all.
So here we are on our third attempt to get answers from this guy (or maybe it’s more and we just don’t remember?) and I’m getting antsy waiting around.
“Hey – “ Heidi says, “Someone just came out the front door of the building. He’s heading east toward 4th. There’s a nice alley two blocks up. We’ll do it there.”
“I’ll meet you.”
And off I go.
”Mr. Jones? Mr. Calvin Jones?”
The boy calls to him from the mouth of an alley. He could keep walking and ignore the boy, or he could turn around and, in doing so, confirm his identity which is the boy’s plan. He turns and enters the alley.
High above them, above the rooftops, the girl hovers. She is flying with a Longbow jetpack. A flying camera-drone hangs in the air beside her. She has been watching for me.
Catalysm had handled them the first two times (nearly botching the first one by assuming they were a couple), altering the chemicals in their brains and causing them to experience short-term memory-loss, but both of those times they had been together, in his home, sitting on his sofa. This time they are separate. They will have to be dealt with separately, and then Catalysm can do his work and Sleight can do hers.
The boy says, “Look – we only want to talk. Really.”
“Talk?” he says, “I think not.”
Before the boy can make another move Purrloin is already in action, drawing all of the energy from the young man’s body and then flipping into a kick that sends him flying. He smashes into the side of a dumpster and then crumples to the ground.
“Wyatt!” the girl calls from above even as she goes into a dive in a futile attempt at a counter-attack.
Transformer Man is next to attack with a powerful concussive blast, but he misses and the girl has time to steal his powers before she can get off another shot. However the girl is not ready when a scaly, spiked tail slaps into her side. She drops where she stands. Anthrosaur has beaten her.
“They fall so easily,” Calvin Jones says.
They are in bad shape, he notes. Graveyard Man will keep death away from them until X-Ponent and De-Crypter can see to their wounds. And then, once again, Catalysm and Sleight can take care of the rest.
He could not let these two die. He needed them. The other Project 8 children would come to the City of Heroes soon. The Octagon had to be restored.
Of all the Project 8 children, only three had arrived in Paragon City so far. Only these two were making a nuisance of themselves, which meant that the third – the lizard girl – was still clueless as to her origins.
If only De-Crypter hadn’t betrayed him and sent the package of evidence to Herman Pretorius, then he would not be in this position. He understood De-Crypter’s reasoning. It was unpleasant business, but the Eight had to survive. All of the children must be found and brought here to Paragon City. Until then, he would have to continue this dance.
“Pay attention, Little Boy Blue.”
That was Heidi’s new name for me. Lauren gave me a new patrol uniform for my birthday and it was blue. I like it a lot. I just wish we hadn’t broken up right after she gave it to me. And I wish Heidi would quit making fun of my costumes. She made fun of the one Mia designed for me too. I mean, I could call her the Green Fairy or something for hers, if I was so inclined to.
“I am paying attention,” I said, and I was. “But what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. Why should we change our plan and just go knock on his door? I’m pretty sure that’s what we did the first two times, and you know where that got us.”
“How do we know? We don’t remember either time.” Heidi’s voice cracked and popped over the radio as if there was some interference from something. “Maybe we attacked him outright.”
“Why don’t we just ask your father?” I have come to the conclusion that Heidi’s dad is in cahoots with this “Calvin Jones”. I mean, both times we’ve tried to investigate him we’ve wound up back in Heidi’s room. The first time maybe we were snuck in, but the second time? It’s like they have free access to Dr. Pretorius’ apartment. How else could you just come and go like that unless someone lets you in?
“My dad wouldn’t have let them put us together like that.”
She’s referring to the first time it happened, when we woke up together in her bed. And she’s probably right about that. Her dad wouldn’t let anyone do that. He adores Heidi and thinks she’s as pure as Christmas snow. And he doesn’t like me.
“Maybe so, but the second time…? How do you explain that?”
“I don’t know. But my dad isn’t involved.” Heidi’s always sure that her dad wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
“If you say so...” I’m not so sure.
The second time we didn’t realize it happened. If Lauren hadn’t shown me our text messages, then I wouldn’t have even noticed.
I remember being at Heidi’s place (I was emo-ing out, as she calls it) while she searched on both our laptops for a name we neither one remembered anymore. I was sitting on the floor and Heidi was sitting on her bed. I was thinking hard about calling Lauren and begging her to take me back. The next thing I remember is Lauren texting me asking if I was back yet. (I was on Heidi’s cell phone – where had mine gone?) My answer to her? “Back from where?” According Lauren’s cell phone, we had been texting for good while before I told her my phone battery was low and that I was somewhere that I couldn’t charge it. I don’t remember that at all.
So here we are on our third attempt to get answers from this guy (or maybe it’s more and we just don’t remember?) and I’m getting antsy waiting around.
“Hey – “ Heidi says, “Someone just came out the front door of the building. He’s heading east toward 4th. There’s a nice alley two blocks up. We’ll do it there.”
“I’ll meet you.”
And off I go.
”Mr. Jones? Mr. Calvin Jones?”
The boy calls to him from the mouth of an alley. He could keep walking and ignore the boy, or he could turn around and, in doing so, confirm his identity which is the boy’s plan. He turns and enters the alley.
High above them, above the rooftops, the girl hovers. She is flying with a Longbow jetpack. A flying camera-drone hangs in the air beside her. She has been watching for me.
Catalysm had handled them the first two times (nearly botching the first one by assuming they were a couple), altering the chemicals in their brains and causing them to experience short-term memory-loss, but both of those times they had been together, in his home, sitting on his sofa. This time they are separate. They will have to be dealt with separately, and then Catalysm can do his work and Sleight can do hers.
The boy says, “Look – we only want to talk. Really.”
“Talk?” he says, “I think not.”
Before the boy can make another move Purrloin is already in action, drawing all of the energy from the young man’s body and then flipping into a kick that sends him flying. He smashes into the side of a dumpster and then crumples to the ground.
“Wyatt!” the girl calls from above even as she goes into a dive in a futile attempt at a counter-attack.
Transformer Man is next to attack with a powerful concussive blast, but he misses and the girl has time to steal his powers before she can get off another shot. However the girl is not ready when a scaly, spiked tail slaps into her side. She drops where she stands. Anthrosaur has beaten her.
“They fall so easily,” Calvin Jones says.
They are in bad shape, he notes. Graveyard Man will keep death away from them until X-Ponent and De-Crypter can see to their wounds. And then, once again, Catalysm and Sleight can take care of the rest.
He could not let these two die. He needed them. The other Project 8 children would come to the City of Heroes soon. The Octagon had to be restored.
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
“Hi, Wyatt.”
Mrs. Hundley greets me as I enter the store. She’s dressed nice in a white, button-up blouse and a blue skirt that comes to just above her knees. She has nice knees. Nice legs, really, slender and curved just like the rest of her. For her age, she’s really pretty woman.
“Why, thank you, Wyatt!” she says with a hint of pink in her cheeks and a smile across her lips.
I forgot about the psi-thing. I keep forgetting about it. But it’s not like I’m lusting after her…
She laughs. “It’s okay, Wyatt. I know I’m no competition for Lauren.” He’s such a cute boy – reminds me of Charles at that age.
That puts me in my place. To which she laughs again.
She’s worried about Charles, her husband. He had a stroke a few weeks ago and even though he’s coming along well, I don’t think she’ll ever not worry about him now.
That’s how it is now between us since the psi-event. I know more about the Hundley’s lives than I do my own family. I know she’s going through cookbooks looking for vegan recipes and that she has already rid their kitchen of all the meat and dairy which she already misses terribly. I know she’s worried that his condition will affect the intimacy of their relationship. I know that they had been planning to buy a new car this year, but now with the mounting medical bills… And she knows I know all of this.
She knows that Lauren and I are having troubles and have been since soon after we returned from visiting my mom in NC. She knows that I cheated on Lauren by kissing Mia. She knows I’ve been hanging around with Heidi and that we are working together to solve a mystery. She knows I hate Roach, but wonders why it’s such an intense and conflicted hate. She knows all of these details of my life, but she neither judges me, nor offers advice. She just lets it be what it is.
She respects my mind as my own real estate and I return that respect to her. Even though we can’t help seeing over the neighbor’s fence, maybe joke about the condition of each other’s lawns, we never trespass.
I come into the store and head to the back where I move some stock around and carry some empty wooden pallets outside. Customers come in and out and I can hear their thoughts as Mrs. Hundley takes their orders or gives them information. If they need something from the back, I have it up front even before Mrs. Hundley can even turn around to request it. I can tell how many people are in the store by how many voices I hear in my head. No one dares to even consider doing the five-finger discount because everyone knows that everyone else can hear them. That’s the only good thing I can think of that’s come out of this psi-event – it makes running a store easier.
After a while, Mrs. Hundley calls my name. Before I go to the front, I pull down the bay door and put the padlock on it and then I make sure the back exit is locked. I step into the store area through the door behind the counter. I already know what she’s going to ask, but I let her ask it before I give an answer.
“Wyatt, would you mind closing tonight?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll do the balance in the morning. Just stick the till in the safe and don’t worry about it.”
I wish Lauren could trust me like this again.
Mrs. Hundley does her best to hide a frown.
“Thanks, Wyatt. You’ve been such a big help through this.”
“No worries, Mrs. H.”
Lauren used to work with me in the afternoons, keep me company. I think of this and Mrs. Hundley “hears” it and I know that she thinks that we – Lauren and I – are a cute couple and she hopes we get things worked out.
I hope so too.
Store traffic flows and ebbs. I can hear people when they come into the store, so I go back to the back and start breaking down a pallet of merchandise that arrived from Utility Wholesale earlier that day. I work there for an hour, uninterrupted.
Suddenly the store gets crowded. I can hear a half-dozen minds or so, but can’t make out the details of what they’re saying. I set down the fifty gallon drum of degreaser that I was carrying from the dock area to the back corner and go see to see who needs help. I come out and smile, ready to see a small crowd.
There is one person there. A man. A tall,slender man with a pale complexion and a short-cropped head of graying hair wearing a grey business suit.
“Can I help you?” I say as I look around and wonder where the others went.
“Do you sell electrical components here?” he asks in a voice that is too smooth and controlled for my liking.
“No sir, but you might want to try Cooke’s over in Steel Canyon. I hear they’re good for that kind of thing.”
Odd – I can still hear the voices, talking at once, mingling into a garble.
“Can you give me directions,” he asks, so I do.
He looks down at me. His jaw is square and his chin is sharp. His eyes are dark, dark blue, almost black. His long nose turns up slightly at the end. His ears are small and almost pointy.
“Anything else, sir?” To be honest, he creeps me out. I’m sure he knows he does this now, but I don’t care.
“Yes. How much are your 8d nails?”
“Brights or commons?”
“Commons.”
“Two-fifty a pound.”
“How much for a quarter pound?”
“Sixty-three cents.”
“And how many nails do you estimate that would give me?”
I stick my hand into the 8d nail bin and fill my hand until it feels about equal to a quarter pound, then I do a quick glancing count, cutting the handful into bunches of five nails each and adding them all up.
“Thirty. Thirty-five.”
“That will do,” he says and turns away to head for the door. The voices follow him.
“Hey, mister – do you want these nails?” I ask.
“Thank you, young man, but no.”
As the door closes behind him, I can finally make out two voices…
[i/]Do you see? Are you satisfied? He seems none the worse for wear.[/i]
I still think it’d dangerous. The chemicals in the brain are...
He hears—
I watch the clock. It’s an old-style. White face, black hands, with a red seconds hand sweeping circles around Roman numerals. I ran out of freight to move an hour ago and now I’m just waiting for closing time. Bored. It’s been a slow night. Not a single customer.
Mrs. Hundley greets me as I enter the store. She’s dressed nice in a white, button-up blouse and a blue skirt that comes to just above her knees. She has nice knees. Nice legs, really, slender and curved just like the rest of her. For her age, she’s really pretty woman.
“Why, thank you, Wyatt!” she says with a hint of pink in her cheeks and a smile across her lips.
I forgot about the psi-thing. I keep forgetting about it. But it’s not like I’m lusting after her…
She laughs. “It’s okay, Wyatt. I know I’m no competition for Lauren.” He’s such a cute boy – reminds me of Charles at that age.
That puts me in my place. To which she laughs again.
She’s worried about Charles, her husband. He had a stroke a few weeks ago and even though he’s coming along well, I don’t think she’ll ever not worry about him now.
That’s how it is now between us since the psi-event. I know more about the Hundley’s lives than I do my own family. I know she’s going through cookbooks looking for vegan recipes and that she has already rid their kitchen of all the meat and dairy which she already misses terribly. I know she’s worried that his condition will affect the intimacy of their relationship. I know that they had been planning to buy a new car this year, but now with the mounting medical bills… And she knows I know all of this.
She knows that Lauren and I are having troubles and have been since soon after we returned from visiting my mom in NC. She knows that I cheated on Lauren by kissing Mia. She knows I’ve been hanging around with Heidi and that we are working together to solve a mystery. She knows I hate Roach, but wonders why it’s such an intense and conflicted hate. She knows all of these details of my life, but she neither judges me, nor offers advice. She just lets it be what it is.
She respects my mind as my own real estate and I return that respect to her. Even though we can’t help seeing over the neighbor’s fence, maybe joke about the condition of each other’s lawns, we never trespass.
I come into the store and head to the back where I move some stock around and carry some empty wooden pallets outside. Customers come in and out and I can hear their thoughts as Mrs. Hundley takes their orders or gives them information. If they need something from the back, I have it up front even before Mrs. Hundley can even turn around to request it. I can tell how many people are in the store by how many voices I hear in my head. No one dares to even consider doing the five-finger discount because everyone knows that everyone else can hear them. That’s the only good thing I can think of that’s come out of this psi-event – it makes running a store easier.
After a while, Mrs. Hundley calls my name. Before I go to the front, I pull down the bay door and put the padlock on it and then I make sure the back exit is locked. I step into the store area through the door behind the counter. I already know what she’s going to ask, but I let her ask it before I give an answer.
“Wyatt, would you mind closing tonight?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll do the balance in the morning. Just stick the till in the safe and don’t worry about it.”
I wish Lauren could trust me like this again.
Mrs. Hundley does her best to hide a frown.
“Thanks, Wyatt. You’ve been such a big help through this.”
“No worries, Mrs. H.”
Lauren used to work with me in the afternoons, keep me company. I think of this and Mrs. Hundley “hears” it and I know that she thinks that we – Lauren and I – are a cute couple and she hopes we get things worked out.
I hope so too.
Store traffic flows and ebbs. I can hear people when they come into the store, so I go back to the back and start breaking down a pallet of merchandise that arrived from Utility Wholesale earlier that day. I work there for an hour, uninterrupted.
Suddenly the store gets crowded. I can hear a half-dozen minds or so, but can’t make out the details of what they’re saying. I set down the fifty gallon drum of degreaser that I was carrying from the dock area to the back corner and go see to see who needs help. I come out and smile, ready to see a small crowd.
There is one person there. A man. A tall,slender man with a pale complexion and a short-cropped head of graying hair wearing a grey business suit.
“Can I help you?” I say as I look around and wonder where the others went.
“Do you sell electrical components here?” he asks in a voice that is too smooth and controlled for my liking.
“No sir, but you might want to try Cooke’s over in Steel Canyon. I hear they’re good for that kind of thing.”
Odd – I can still hear the voices, talking at once, mingling into a garble.
“Can you give me directions,” he asks, so I do.
He looks down at me. His jaw is square and his chin is sharp. His eyes are dark, dark blue, almost black. His long nose turns up slightly at the end. His ears are small and almost pointy.
“Anything else, sir?” To be honest, he creeps me out. I’m sure he knows he does this now, but I don’t care.
“Yes. How much are your 8d nails?”
“Brights or commons?”
“Commons.”
“Two-fifty a pound.”
“How much for a quarter pound?”
“Sixty-three cents.”
“And how many nails do you estimate that would give me?”
I stick my hand into the 8d nail bin and fill my hand until it feels about equal to a quarter pound, then I do a quick glancing count, cutting the handful into bunches of five nails each and adding them all up.
“Thirty. Thirty-five.”
“That will do,” he says and turns away to head for the door. The voices follow him.
“Hey, mister – do you want these nails?” I ask.
“Thank you, young man, but no.”
As the door closes behind him, I can finally make out two voices…
[i/]Do you see? Are you satisfied? He seems none the worse for wear.[/i]
I still think it’d dangerous. The chemicals in the brain are...
He hears—
I watch the clock. It’s an old-style. White face, black hands, with a red seconds hand sweeping circles around Roman numerals. I ran out of freight to move an hour ago and now I’m just waiting for closing time. Bored. It’s been a slow night. Not a single customer.
-
Wyatt Wyborn
- Member
- Posts:196
- Joined:Fri Apr 08, 2011 5:49 pm
Re: Crushed, Crushing, and Crushes
Chiron Medical Center. 9:45 am. I’ve been here all morning getting checked out after the episode I had last night.
I step out into the waiting area and Lauren is there, right where I left her almost two hours ago. She looks at me expectantly and I smile and try to look encouraging.
“He’s all yours,” the doctor says and then pats me on the shoulder.
Lauren smiles back. She’s worried. I could see that even if I couldn’t hear her think it.
Dr. Perkins turns and disappears through the door he brought me out of. I do my best to “read” him before the door closes behind him, but during the examination we talked about the psi-terror attack and it turns out that he spent some time as a medic at Firebase Zulu. He learned there how to discipline his mind against psionic invasion. I get nothing.
“So…?” Lauren says as we head toward the elevators. Is it bad?
“They’re calling it seizures. My mediport patch is recalibrated so that if it happens again, it will activate.”
“Did you tell them…?”
“About what me and Heidi have been up to?”
“Yeah. Did they find out…?” She’s worried that my thoughts might have given me away. Or maybe she was hoping. The thought is there and gone before I can know for sure.
“No. I got lucky. The room we were in was shielded.”
“I… told the school nurse about the blackouts you’ve had.” She’s worried that I’ll be mad at her for that. I’m not.
“I know. You were thinking about it on the way over. But it’s okay. Turns out they needed to know.” I’ve been trying not to think about…
“A condition? They say you have… a condition?” What does that mean?
“It means they’re not sure. The blood test, urine test, and saliva tests all came back negative. They ruled out that I was drugged – which I told them wouldn’t affect me anyway – and it doesn’t seem to be connected to the Psionic Evolved, but they’re gonna check and see if there are any other cases like mine...”
“Wyatt, just tell me what’s going on.” I’m tired of secrets.
“Lauren… last night… and the blackouts… whatever caused it… however it was done… might have done permanent damage to my brain.”
I’m surprised by the anger in her thoughts as they flash through her mind. Anger at me. Anger at Heidi. Anger at Mia. Anger at whoever did this to me. But the anger goes away and it’s replaced by concern.
“So this is permanent?”
“They don’t know. The doctor said it may not ever happen again.” But that’s not likely.
She nods. Again, I can tell what she’s thinking without reading her mind. She wants to hold me. She wants to comfort me and let me know that she’ll be there no matter what. But she can’t open herself up like that because she can’t trust me.
She knows I’m thinking that and gives me a sad half-smile.
The elevator door finally opens and we get on.
Lauren says, “You should stop. You should let Heidi solve her own mysteries.”
“I know.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes widen as I let a thought surface, a memory, one that I didn’t know I had until I woke up strapped to a bed in one of the secure rooms this morning. I say the thought out loud –
“I remember what happened at the store last night.”
I step out into the waiting area and Lauren is there, right where I left her almost two hours ago. She looks at me expectantly and I smile and try to look encouraging.
“He’s all yours,” the doctor says and then pats me on the shoulder.
Lauren smiles back. She’s worried. I could see that even if I couldn’t hear her think it.
Dr. Perkins turns and disappears through the door he brought me out of. I do my best to “read” him before the door closes behind him, but during the examination we talked about the psi-terror attack and it turns out that he spent some time as a medic at Firebase Zulu. He learned there how to discipline his mind against psionic invasion. I get nothing.
“So…?” Lauren says as we head toward the elevators. Is it bad?
“They’re calling it seizures. My mediport patch is recalibrated so that if it happens again, it will activate.”
“Did you tell them…?”
“About what me and Heidi have been up to?”
“Yeah. Did they find out…?” She’s worried that my thoughts might have given me away. Or maybe she was hoping. The thought is there and gone before I can know for sure.
“No. I got lucky. The room we were in was shielded.”
“I… told the school nurse about the blackouts you’ve had.” She’s worried that I’ll be mad at her for that. I’m not.
“I know. You were thinking about it on the way over. But it’s okay. Turns out they needed to know.” I’ve been trying not to think about…
“A condition? They say you have… a condition?” What does that mean?
“It means they’re not sure. The blood test, urine test, and saliva tests all came back negative. They ruled out that I was drugged – which I told them wouldn’t affect me anyway – and it doesn’t seem to be connected to the Psionic Evolved, but they’re gonna check and see if there are any other cases like mine...”
“Wyatt, just tell me what’s going on.” I’m tired of secrets.
“Lauren… last night… and the blackouts… whatever caused it… however it was done… might have done permanent damage to my brain.”
I’m surprised by the anger in her thoughts as they flash through her mind. Anger at me. Anger at Heidi. Anger at Mia. Anger at whoever did this to me. But the anger goes away and it’s replaced by concern.
“So this is permanent?”
“They don’t know. The doctor said it may not ever happen again.” But that’s not likely.
She nods. Again, I can tell what she’s thinking without reading her mind. She wants to hold me. She wants to comfort me and let me know that she’ll be there no matter what. But she can’t open herself up like that because she can’t trust me.
She knows I’m thinking that and gives me a sad half-smile.
The elevator door finally opens and we get on.
Lauren says, “You should stop. You should let Heidi solve her own mysteries.”
“I know.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes widen as I let a thought surface, a memory, one that I didn’t know I had until I woke up strapped to a bed in one of the secure rooms this morning. I say the thought out loud –
“I remember what happened at the store last night.”
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