ExtraNormal (13 page)

A bell rang signaling the end of third period. Doors across campus flew open. Students rushed out of the rooms. I pulled my knees against my chest and wished I were invisible. I watched room number fifteen, just to my right, until Jesse came out. He tossed his head—his hair floated gently around it—and continued in the opposite direction. I wanted to call to him. But stayed still, until the campus quieted once again. I should go home and wait for Mom.

I even tried to walk off campus, but physically couldn’t bring myself to do it. Whatever force had brought me to school today was going to keep me on campus. I’d just have to keep myself in control until I could figure out what was happening. In English, I noticed the lights dimmed just before I lost my coordination. In calculus I figured out that I could keep the anger under control if I hummed to myself while breathing deeply. I tried to let music play continuously in the back of my mind, but my em-field was too out of control for even that simple task.

In art history, Jesse paused on his way down the aisle with a morose smile. My fingers moved tentatively in his direction, aching to feel the one sensation I craved more than food. The realization of what I’d lost caused the now-familiar anger to flame at my cheeks. The room went black as night; then just as quickly became blinding bright. My ears buzzed. Jesse continued down the aisle. Tears pushed against my eyes.

My janitorial work was even more laborious than usual, with the vacuum now heavy and awkward, and my sense of balance disrupted. At the end of my shift, I felt arms come around me, pinning me against the dumpster. I turned around, surprised to see Jesse. I hadn’t sensed him approaching. And still couldn’t feel a single emotion.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I left yesterday because I can’t stand the thought of getting you in trouble.”

I swallowed…suddenly blinded. The buzz in my ears almost kept me from hearing him.

“Staying away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” His breath on my neck was empty…lacking what I yearned for. “But I will, if it’s what’s best for you.” He touched my cheek. “But I don’t want you walking home. Can I at least still drive you?”

The light lifted enough for me to look into his eyes—though not the brilliant blue I ached to see. I nodded, blinking away tears.

The car ride home was a festival of sensory changes. Sounds, light, smells, fluctuated from nothing one moment—to intense the next. I gripped the door handle and hummed.

 I thought about dinner with Mom and wondered what she’d make of this. Would she recognize that my em-field was messed up? Probably. She might schedule a transport before I spoke a word.

 “When does your mom leave for work?” Jesse asked. The car had stopped, so I assumed we were at my house.

“What?” I turned to him, or at least his form.

 “If she leaves before you, I might as well pick you up. It’ll be easier than following you.”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Morning isn’t any safer than afternoons.”

“Jesse…” A loud popping began in my ears. “If I’m ever not…If some time…” I had to warn him of something, but couldn’t find the words. So I just pulled open the door and staggered out of the car.

It was nearly an hour before I could even walk normally. Or think. Eventually though, I regained enough of my senses to realize that this problem I was having might work to my benefit. Mom might instantly realize I was sick. But if I couldn’t feel emotions, maybe I couldn’t project them either. Maybe Mom wouldn’t be able to recognize anything from me.

This whole business of being deceptive was new territory for me. And with my emotions so unstable, I had almost no confidence I could pull it off. But there was no point in pretending that I’d just tell Mom the truth and walk away from Jesse. I had to take any chance to stay with him, even if it was grasping. My brain was too fogged to think through every detail. The best I could do was to follow my instincts. And right now they were telling me to make a plan.

A short time later, while chopping vegetables for dinner, I hummed Geery’s favorite tune:
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
. It would be a miracle if my plan worked. But if it stood any chance I’d have to remain as calm as I ever had in my life. I hummed the tune and thought about dogs, palm trees, cars…not Jesse’s Taurus…birds, flowers, swimming pools…not Jesse by the pool. I also had to hope that my sporadic senses didn’t cause me to burn myself or slice my finger open.

At the sound of the front door opening, I gripped the edge of the counter. Then with a deep breath ran my fingers through my hair, pulling my long locks in front of my shoulders—to hide the last traces of bruising. “Hey Mom!” I called. “How was work?”

Mom dropped onto a chair at the kitchen table, stretched her neck, and launched into a description of a secret meeting Senator Simmons had held with a supposed-Iraqi national who was actually from Greece.

I nodded, pretended to follow the story, and hummed to myself.
Don’t worry. Be happy
. My fears that Mom had tried to stream with me during the day were probably unfounded. Mom sounded too wrapped up with work to have given me a thought. For once that notion made me happy. I scooped the sautéed vegetables I’d prepared onto plates.

“So enough about me,” Mom said. “I’ve been so neglectful of you. Tell me what’s been happening.”

I took a deep breath, sat down and shrugged. “Nothing really.” I put a slice of squash in my mouth and chewed slowly.
Don’t worry…be happy.
“It’s been pretty boring around here.”

Mom put her hand on top of mine. “Is there something bothering you? You seem…unsettled.” I winced, blinded by a flash of light. Apparently stress worsened my symptoms. I pulled my hand away, and tried not to be alarmed. It was the perfect question. I closed my eyes, but the light remained just as intense. “It’s nothing big,” I said. “It’s just…I’ve been afraid to tell you…something.” I swallowed hard, then opened my eyes and looked at Mom’s dark form. “It’s been kind of creepy,” I blurted, reciting the story I’d gone over in my head a hundred times. “Being here by myself so much. So…that little girl next door…you know, Becca? She’s been coming over. She mostly just swims in the backyard.” I couldn’t see Mom’s face, or sense her reaction. I clutched my glass with both hands and gulped the water. The lights flickered, then dimmed. I concentrated on steadying myself.
Don’t worry…

“You
have
been alone a lot more than I intended,” Mom finally said. “So I don’t see a problem with that. As long as you’re careful.”

“Good,” I exhaled.
Be happy
. “Because I want to ask a favor.” I gulped and put down the water glass. “Next Monday is a holiday.”

“Yes, they call it Labor Day.”

“Right. So there’s no school.” I picked up my fork and tried to stab a broccoli floret, but my shaking hand was obvious, so I put my hands in my lap. “And I was hoping to take Becca to the beach.”

“The beach?”

“Yeah. I really want to go to a beach before it gets too cold. We don’t even know if we’ll be here in the next warm season.” I held my breath.

“How would you get there?”

I exhaled again, only slightly relieved. I still couldn’t sense a thing, but Mom hadn’t said no. “We’d take a bus.” The words came rushing out.

“I got it all mapped out on that computer thingy: the route, the cost, the times.” I hadn’t actually managed to find the specifics. But I had time for all that. “I’ll be really careful,” I added.

“Wow. You’ve really thought this through.”

Don’t worry
…I inhaled…exhaled. “I
really
want to go.”

“All right,” Mom said. “You just promise me you’ll be extra careful.”

I wasn’t absolutely sure I’d heard correctly. Between the buzzing, my blurred vision, and lack of senses—I wasn’t sure of anything. “Did you say…?”

“I said you need to be extremely careful.”

I gasped. Jumped from my seat and threw my arms around her. If Mom could sense my emotions, I was fairly confident she’d only be able to sense happiness, excitement, and a large dose of relief.

“Mira,” Mom said, clutching my arms. “Is that all?”

I pulled back from our embrace and stiffened. “All?”

“Yes. I already knew about Becca. And there are lots of ways to get you to the beach. Are you sure there isn’t something else you’re worried about? Something you don’t want to tell me?”

I sat back down, unable to hide my alarm. A flash of that stupid, inappropriate anger rushed to my head. I breathed deeply, humming to myself and chewing on a bite of sautéed zucchini. I closed my eyes against the flickering lights.

“Mira?”

“It’s…I…” I rocked in my chair, trying to stay calm. “There is something.” I opened my eyes, struggled to make out the expression on my mother’s face. “I took a lunch from home on my first day, like I was supposed to. But the smell of cheeseburgers…it’s just…well…I couldn’t help myself.” I looked away, pushing back my anger and fear. Building up my shame. “I’ve had school lunch every day since then.”

The blur that I knew was my mother remained motionless. I didn’t dare move.

Then I heard Mom’s voice, soft and wistful. “That smell. It
is
unbelievable.” Mom stood and left the room.

Rocking to the rhythm of the fluctuating lights, I hummed quietly while my world gyrated out of control.

When Mom returned, she sat at the table and pulled a small object out of a bag. “Have you ever tried chocolate?”

I looked from my mother’s blurred image to the small item she held.

“Food? You eat food?”

“Not often. Just this really. It’s my one indulgence. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it.”

“So…” I studied Mom’s hand until the object came into focus. A small yellow package in the shape of a triangle.

Mom pulled out something brown.

“So…you’re not mad?” I asked.

Mom laughed, amused. “No my girl. I’m not mad. But you do need to use caution. Just a little treat every once in a while is fine. They really can’t expect us to survive strictly on vegetables and seeds when we’re subject to human cravings and hungers.” Mom held out a small piece of the confection. “Do you want to try it?”

I popped it in my mouth. But apparently my sense of taste was disrupted along with everything else. I smiled and pretended it was as good as Mom had said. When the square had dissolved in my mouth, I licked my lips and took a breath for courage. “What would happen if you eat too much food?”

“Well, you know there are many long-term effects to poor nutrition. But in the short term you could become very ill.”

I nodded and licked the last of it off my teeth. “I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“That probably explains it. You’d better lay off those cheeseburgers for a while.”

I was tempted to describe my symptoms further, to see if it really could be the food. But I knew there was at least one other unthinkable thing that caused this particular set of symptoms. And after making it this far, I didn’t want to give Mom any ideas that would cause her to change her mind about the beach.

 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I should have been thrilled with my victory. It was unthinkable, what I’d gotten away with. But I was too out of sorts and consumed with worry to feel much in the way of cheer. Or to sleep.

For one thing, I doubted if I’d be capable of traveling to a beach by Monday. And I wasn’t sure if I even should. Jesse’s efforts to keep his distance from me were probably the best thing he could do for his own self preservation. But mostly, I was worried about the cause of these symptoms.

I told myself repeatedly that teenagers do not repattern. It was just a fact. Repatterning requires full maturity. Which does not happen before the mid twenties. I wouldn’t even reach the age of segregation for another three years.

But then, I reminded myself, teenagers don’t usually travel to Earth. Or fall in love.

The madhouse in my mind was relentless for the rest of the week. I decided to take that as good news since repatterning should only last a couple of days. By Friday—my fourth day of torment—there was still no sign of improvement. I was consumed by being with Jesse, even though my symptoms worsened when we were together.

On the ride home Friday afternoon I realized that this would be my last opportunity to tell Jesse about the beach on Monday. I still couldn’t imagine that I’d be capable of going. But as with each day of school, if there was an opportunity to be with him, I was bound by an unseen force to take it. Unfortunately, I was lucky to keep my head upright while this close to him. “So…” I whispered into the quiet car. “Have you made plans for Monday?”

“Monday?” he asked.

“Newport.”

“What about it?”

“My mom said I can go.”

Jesse didn’t answer. I had no skills at reading faces. The only thing I recognized with certainty by his expression was confusion. After spending a week with me acting like a deranged fool, I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to back out. I should be happy if he did. For his sake.

“What time?” he eventually asked.

I couldn’t tell if he was happy…hesitant…mortified. I despised this human way of doing things—of not knowing how the other is feeling. Still, I was relieved that he’d agreed. “Meet me at the bus stop on the corner at seven.”

“Bus? No. I’ll drive,” he said.

“Please don’t argue. And I need to bring Becca.”

“Mira…are you okay?” He reached for me.

I gripped my head, turning away. “I will be.”

Jesse pulled back. I could feel his piercing eyes studying me.

I rushed from the car, went directly to my room and flailed myself onto the bed. It had been days since I’d talked to Geery. Since I’d had lunch with my friends. Had real food. Sensed an emotion. Felt Jesse. I let tears soak the sheets beneath my head.

Sometime in the evening Mom stopped in the doorway. “Still not feeling well?”

“Just tired,” I mumbled. Mom hadn’t said anything about me not answering streams during the day. But I knew she must have tried to reach me at some point during the week. Even she wasn’t that negligent. I’d noticed that Mom had started getting home a little earlier than usual. We’d even watched a movie together, though I had hardly been able to see the screen. The edge of the bed shifted. Mom touched my hand. “Have you been watching your diet?”