Alex Armstrong: Awakening (11 page)

“You single?”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, are you guys hearin this?” the New Yorker said. “Kim’s already tryin to set up a date!”

“That’s cause all you guys are losers! And he’s better looking than you! I can see his blue eyes from here!”

“Better lookin than this?” The New Yorker leaned out the window and flexed his bicep.

Kim rolled her eyes. “Alex, stay right there for a second.” She ducked away from her window.

“Kid, you better start runnin. Trust me on this one!” He waved for Alex to keep moving.

“Hey!” Kim called. She was sitting on the window ledge with a piece of paper. When she had Alex’s attention, she balled the paper in her right hand and raised her palm to her lips and blew him a kiss. The paper hovered briefly in the air and then made a beeline for Alex’s face.

He raised his hands to catch the thing, but at the last moment the paper arced upward and stopped a few feet above his head. Alex stared at it, unsure of what to do next. Just as he made up his mind to reach for it, the paper came to life, flattening itself into its original shape, its wrinkles and creases smoothing into perfection. It seesawed downward into his waiting palm. Written in red, diagonally across the page, was Kim’s name and number. Alex smiled and looked at her window. She brought her hand to her face in a “call me” gesture and then waved good-bye.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” the New Yorker said. He went back to his unpacking.

Alex eyed the note. It looked innocent enough. He folded it and folded it again and found a special place for it in his wallet and started walking.

It was still early for lunch and the DH was almost empty, but that didn’t bother Alex. He wasn’t here for company. He grabbed a plate and went to work. He wolfed down two cheeseburgers, fries, and a milkshake, and when that wasn’t enough, he topped it off with a heaping plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

He shoved his plate forward and crossed his arms on the table and laid down his head and closed his eyes.

****

After a bit of wandering, Alex found himself in the little clearing he had discovered with Eva. He sat on the bench and kicked off his shoes and locked his fingers behind his head and stretched back, curling and uncurling his toes in the grass. He listened to the sounds coming from Dresden and smiled. He thought about taking out Kim’s note and putting her number in his phone, but he figured it could wait. He stared at the valley.

His eyes were drawn to the red barn. He noticed it his second day on campus when they were out exploring. It reminded him of one of those little red hotels from the Monopoly game his dad had tucked away in the closet. A silo stood beside the barn and a white farmhouse was built just beyond its shadow. Alex closed his eyes and let his mind drift through all manner of farmland clichés. Roosters. Chickens. Cows. When he started running out of ideas, he tried to remember the farms he’d seen in the movies, but all it did was make him tired and before long he started to doze.

A breeze rolled across Alex’s left shoulder and all of a sudden he was back in the car. Eva’s mouth close to his ear. Her breath warm on his skin. The way she moved as his fingertips caressed the silk…

Something small bounced off the top of the bench. And Alex
felt
it.

He looked at the sunflower lying face up on the bench and picked it up and placed it gently into his left palm. He ran his finger around its circumference and knew instantly that it had thirty-four petals. Alex plucked one and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger and the silkiness of it brought him right back to Eva. His face flushed. He remembered her mouth. The way she tasted. The way she moaned. The warmth of her mound and how his touch made her shudder…

The flower moved and tickled his palm and Alex jumped to his feet and jerked his hand away as if he just discovered he’d been holding a tarantula.

He stood there looking at it, its petals twitching harmlessly in the breeze. His heart pounded. He felt pollen residue on his hand and so he wiped it against his jeans. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. He wiped and wiped and spit on his hand and wiped some more but no matter what he did it still felt like he was holding a sunflower.

Alex stared at his palm. Was this it? Was this how it started? A smile slowly formed on his face. He quit focusing on his hand and immediately became aware of a connection at the back of his mind. And although the feeling was foreign, he knew—
knew
—that what he was sensing was the very essence of the flower.

He looked left and right and when he was sure he was alone he took a deep breath and faced the bench. He held out his hand so that his palm faced the sky and began opening and closing his fingers. The petals did the same. They felt like his fingers. Or maybe his fingers felt like petals. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He wiggled his digits slowly and then quickly and again the petals did the same. Alex laughed. Whatever trepidation he felt in the lab was gone. He wished he could have been doing this his whole life.

He wanted to make it float. Alex clenched his jaw and imagined his hand slipping under the flower and it started floating, up and up until he stopped it at eye level. He traced his mind around the edge of the petals and the sunflower began to spin. A beautiful, frictionless spin.

Alex considered grabbing his phone but he didn’t want to risk losing focus. Instead he looked over the hedge and spotted another sunflower and with a bit of effort plucked it from its stem and made it float into position so he had two flowers side by side, their petals meshing in the middle like gears in a machine. They continued like this until one of the petals fell off. Alex stopped everything and stared at it lying in the grass. It needed company.

Alex set the flowers spinning again, this time much faster. When he felt the petals pulling loose at their bases he narrowed his eyes and held them in place and spun the flowers faster and faster until the speed became audible. Then, he let go. In a flash of yellow, every petal ejected from its base and fluttered to the ground like confetti.

Alex felt his phone buzzing. He tried to keep the brown disks spinning as he slowly reached into his back pocket, but he couldn’t do it. They dropped to the ground. Oh well, it was a good start.

“I was wondering when one of you would wake up.”

“Hey Alex.”

“Hey Patrick. You feel okay?”

“Yeah. Groggy. You sound awake. What are you doing?”

“Oh, just walking around…‌relaxing…‌using telekinesis. The usual.”

“
What
? You gotta show me. Wanna meet at the DH? I’m starving.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Alex smiled at the yellow petals scattered on the green grass.

12 - Sticks and Stones

12

Sticks and Stones

“Come on, class. We’ve been at this for one hour. I should be seeing some of you incorporating those rings. And I should definitely see all of those diamonds in the air.” Professor Startsman paced back and forth across the front of the room. Every so often he would stop and scratch his belly. “If you are having problems, please raise your hand and I will help you.” His eyes narrowed. “You in the back; put that phone away!”

“Jesus, that guy’s loud when he yells,” Patrick said.

Eva shushed him.

“What? He can’t hear. Besides, something’s wrong with mine.” Patrick continued to speak in a normal voice.

“We’ve all got the same rocks, man. Nothing’s wrong with yours,” Nate said.

Patrick tried to spin his rock like a coin, but it just skidded across the desk. He stared at it for a second and then huffed and shook his head. “Whatever. I’d rather watch yoga practice anyways.” He leaned back in his seat and looked at the right wall.

“Creeper,” Eva said.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. They’ve been in this classroom. They see the cameras. I promise you, they know
exactly
what they’re doing. You seeing this, Alex?”

Alex nodded. He allowed himself another glance at the three girls dressed in yoga pants posing in the field. They were facing away from the camera.

“I like the one in the middle,” Patrick said.

“He hears you,” Nate said.

“That's no he.”

“He’s coming.”

Patrick couldn't peel himself away from the screen. “I don't think she's wearing any under—”

“I believe your seatmate put it best.” Startsman stood right in front of Patrick, yet he spoke loudly enough for all to hear.

Patrick turned in his seat, eyes wide. “Sir?”

“Creeper. I may be old, son, but I’m not deaf. Not yet, anyway. Now remind me: What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Patrick, sir.”

“Indeed. Patrick, what seems to be the problem? Well, aside from the obvious: that you have precisely zero chance with any of those girls.”

Laughter could be heard throughout the classroom.

“My rock won’t move.”

“Your bort.”

“Sir?”

“That thing you’re calling a rock is actually a type of diamond. It is called a bort.”

Patrick scrunched his face and looked down at his desk. “That is one ugly ass diamond.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I mean, I think something’s wrong with mine.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen your diamond so much as wobble all class period?”

“I guess. I don’t think mine’s really a diamond.”

“Is that so?”

Patrick nodded.

“Are you saying that when I personally arranged the diamonds and rings on each of your desks this morning, I mistakenly gave you a rock?”

“Uhhh…”

“Or maybe I did it on purpose. Just to embarrass some unlucky student.”

“Uhhh…”

“Tongue tied? Is that the same thing that happens when a pretty girl starts talking to you?” Professor Startsman motioned towards the wall. More laughter. “Son, let me put your mind at ease. That is in fact a diamond sitting before you. The same as everyone else’s. Just as those are the proper graphite rings. There is nothing wrong with anything on that desk of yours.” Startsman closed his eyes and licked his lips. “I can
taste
the carbon from here. Anyone else? No? You will. Carbon’s like catnip for telekins. That’s why we use diamonds and graphite during this first lecture. Pure carbon. Easier for your minds to grasp at this stage.”

“So what’s wrong with me?”

Professor Startsman laughed and hitched up his pants. “Well, if I had to guess, it seems your mind is preoccupied with a different kind of catnip.”

Patrick’s cheeks were on fire.

“Oh my. I believe that one’s called downward-facing dog.”

This time, Patrick was the only one in class who didn’t look.

Professor Startsman stared at Patrick. His features softened. “Son, are you ready to start focusing?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then pick it up.”

“But…‌I can’t.”

“Use your hand. Come on, I’m going to walk you through this. There you go. Good. Now put it right in your palm.”

Patrick placed the diamond in his left hand.

“Now, I want you to feel its weight. And look at it. I mean
really
look at it. Memorize every inch of it.”

Patrick nodded.

“When you’re ready, close your eyes.”

The room was quiet. Still. Everyone was watching.

“Now, don’t let your mind wander. Keep visualizing that diamond, and imagine your right hand coming into the picture. You with me?” He waited for Patrick to nod again. “Good, now close your fingers around the diamond. Imagine the cold, hard touch of it.”

Patrick nodded.

“And now lift. Pluck it right out of your palm.”

Patrick held his breath, jaws clenched. He kept at it until his whole body shook from the tension, then he sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

“Open your eyes, son.”

Patrick did as he was told and gasped. His diamond hovered an inch above his palm. He lowered his hands and still the diamond stayed in place. “Smokin the donkey,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Thank you,” Patrick said.

Professor Startsman managed half a smile, but it was only there for a flash. His features hardened when he saw Alex’s diamond. “Mr. Armstrong, would you like some help, too?”

“Oh, I’m okay. I was just watching Patrick. That was good. The way you explained it, I mean.”

“Why, thank you.” Startsman brought his hand to his chin in a thinking man’s pose. “Gosh, maybe I should consider doing it for a living.”

“No, I meant—”

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. The goal today, once you took control of your diamond, was to keep it off your desk for the remainder of class. Incorporate the rings if you’re able. Do you somehow feel like you’re exempt from this exercise? Is it too boring for you?”

“No sir. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t paying attention. I can do it.” As Alex held eye contact with the professor, his two graphite rings rose into the air and his diamond weaved in and out of them in a figure-eight pattern.

“He’s really good, Professor. See?”

Startsman raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Eva, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“It seems you have an admirer, Mr. Armstrong.” He turned back to Eva. “That’s very sweet of you to stick up for your friend.”

“It’s true, though. He’s already moved a bunch of stuff bigger than this.”

“Is that right?” Now Startsman really turned on the sarcasm.

“When he went hiking. Rocks…‌big ones. Sticks. Logs. A bunch of stuff.”

“And you were witness to this?”

“No. He went out practicing by himself.”

Startsman laughed. “How very self-centered of you, Mr. Armstrong. Well done. I’ve always been a bit of a loner myself.”

Eva nudged Alex’s foot. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Let’s see a demonstration.”

“Sir?” Alex said.

“A demonstration. Not that I don’t believe your friend, it’s just that…‌oh, what’s that phrase? Trust but verify? That’s it. Besides, I like a good show.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Four rings from Startsman’s table arced upward to each corner of the room. “I want your diamond to travel through all four of those rings and come back to your desk in under, let’s say…‌ten seconds,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Can you do that?”