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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
During lunch my friends chat away amongst themselves, conversation subdued, but I hear nothing. My food lays untouched on my plate, my appetite missing. Just like my friends. Jerry has joined our group in what feels like a silent agreement, blending in with the rest of us without much difficulty. He is as much affected as I am. We were—are—closest to Neveah and Dwayne, and the look in his eyes as he stares dejectedly out the window is one I feel in my bones.
My breakdown last night helped alleviate some of the weight, though. It was a release I needed, and the claws around my throat aren’t squeezing quite so tightly.
In the light of day the situation seems more real, somehow. I sit in the comfortable presence of my friends, my eyes briefly flitting over them as I push around the salad on my plate. Jerry, like me, isn’t participating in the conversation, but the rest of my friends are speaking in hushed tones about something I can’t concentrate on. I watch Evan folding and unfolding a napkin absentmindedly as he watches Keene speak, and the simple fact of his body sitting next to mine is a comforting thing.
Any anxiety over him has evaporated in the face of all that we’re dealing with. Now, Neveah is what takes up most of my thoughts. Dwayne, too, but really, Neveah is number one on my mind. I know it may sound cruel, and it’s not like I don’t care about Dwanye or her dad—of course I do—it’s just that Neveah is closer to me than the others. She was the first student to witness my abilities at healing. The first person, other than Christopher, to encourage me. The one who witnessed my progress throughout these past weeks, who was there to see me grow and change.
And I was the one who witnessed her rapid improvement, too. The one who watched as she dropped her time healing a snapped fern leaf from sixty-three seconds to twenty-eight. The one who noticed how Dwayne looked at her, how his eyes followed her even when she was angry at him.
So many experiences. So many little moments, snapshots of a friendship just beginning, of a life too young and too bright to be snuffed out. No. I won’t believe it. She’s out there, somewhere. Alive.
I start to get impatient. I flip open my cell phone and check the time. 1:06 pm. And still no word from Maunekey. What the hell is he doing? He said he’d call, and it’s already past midday.
I look around at my friends one more time and then down at my barely touched lunch. There’s no use sitting here, waiting. I can’t do that. I need to do something—anything to feel like I’m helping. Anything but sitting here and trying to swallow lettuce leaves and pieces of chicken.
“Guys,” I say, and everyone looks up at me. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?” Jerry asks, like there’s just no point. Like there’s nothing that can help.
Well, I won’t allow that. “Somewhere. Anywhere.”
Evan studies me for a moment, eyes slightly slanted like he’s thinking, trying to work something out. I don’t know how my stomach can knot up for two completely different reasons at the same exact time, but there you have it. It does.
“Megan’s right.” He gestures to me and Jerry. “Having the two of you moping around like this isn’t going to help Neveah or Dwayne, or you. Let’s go get some fresh air.”
He tugs on my hand as we get up from our table. As we exit the dining hall, something starts pulling at my mind—some sort of idea, or plan, or something—but I can’t quite put my finger to it. We step out into the beautiful autumn day, and I take in a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. The evergreens are a deep, vibrant green, but the rest, the oaks and maple trees, are steadily morphing from jade to yellow, and soon, to orange to red. The change in colors is like music depicted; the flow and cadences of sound in color.
Even now, amidst everything that is going on, the fact that I can still see the beauty in that makes me happy deep inside, and it sparks some hope and determination in me. If I can see the subtle beauty of nature at such a difficult time, then there is definitely something we can do to help find our friends. There has to be something positive we can do amidst all this negativity.
Suddenly it clicks in my head, and I finally see what’s been nagging me. It’s so obvious, and honestly, I don’t see how I didn’t think of this before. “Christopher,” I say, turning to Myra. “We should call Christopher.”
“You think he can help?”
“Well, he was a Detector not so long ago, so he must know how these things work. And besides, I’m not going to sit around waiting for Maunekey to call.” I cross my arms, pushing my impatience at the White Coach away. “I think Christopher can help.” We exchange a look, and I know she can tell I’m asking her to work it through her systems, see if she comes up with anything.
Myra works this through for a minute. I watch her as she sifts it through some internal Blue-gifted sieve, gauging the outcome and the benefit of such an action. “Call him,” she says finally. And I know her abilities have told her it’s a good thing to do.
I flip open my phone and scroll down my numbers. Christopher gave us his number during the first week of classes “in case you need anything”, as he said. Well, I definitely need something now. His connections to other Detectors, his abilities—I don’t know what. Something, though.
He picks up on the third ring. “Megan?”
“Hi, Christopher,” I say, trying to sound normal. Trying not to sound like two friends of mine have been kidnapped and I’m pulling at strands here.
“Is everything alright?” He sounds alert, like he’s picked up on something from my voice.
“Actually, not really.” I don’t want to get into it on the phone. “Are you at school?”
“No, but I can be there in an hour.”
“Okay,” I say, and we arrange to meet up outside Green Point.
I hang up and fill in the others on the plan. As we head up towards Green Point, I fall towards the back along with Evan. The initiative I took in calling my Green Coach loosened something up inside me, and I feel pleased, like I accomplished something, even if it’s tiny. Just the fact that I took matters into my own hands feels good. I’ve never considered myself the most outgoing of people, least of all leader-like, but this feels right, for some reason. Like it’s something I should try more often.
Evan seems to read my mind. “You were great back there,” he says.
I look up at him, surprised. I know I’m proud of myself for taking the initiative, but in reality it really wasn’t such a big deal. It was only a big deal for me; the quiet, friendless girl from Carrington. The fact that he noticed it says a lot. Means a lot. “Thanks,” I say. And then, because I want to give him something more, “You know me better than I think.”
He only gives me a half-smile, but his eyes, they shine.
I need to be more open with him. Not just in telling him about myself and my life—that I already do. But just as importantly, in showing him how I feel about him, supporting him like he does me. He has been there for me whenever I’ve needed it; when I ran out of presentation during Green Day; gathering everyone to help explain things to me, help settle me; listening as I told him all about my life growing up, my thoughts and worries about being friendship-challenged, during all those endless Physical Training sessions; working out his issues with James because I asked him to; last night . . . I can’t be the only one expecting things from him. That’s not fair.
He deserves more than that. More than what I’ve given him so far.
I look up at him as we near Green Point. The sunlight bounces off his brown hair, highlighting it in gold wherever it touches it. I want to reach up and run my fingers through it so badly, but it’s not the time, and it’s definitely not the place. A little idea pops into my head, and I smile, pleased with what I’m going to do.
We gather outside Green Hall. Since it’s Sunday, it’s closed. “Let’s go sit in the garden,” I say. “There’s a fountain.”
“Ooh, a fountain,” Jerry says sarcastically. “So Zen. Just what we fucking need to solve all our problems.”
I feel hurt for a moment, but try not to take it personally. Myra shakes her head at me, as if to say, Let it go. “This way.” I lead them around the building to the garden with the benches circling the fountain.
Keene claps Jerry on the shoulder and leads him to the furthest bench, the one by the outdoor corridor running alongside this side of Green Hall. Myra, Sandra and James take up another bench; I just stand there and stare at the one on my left. The one where Neveah sat when told me about her dad going missing. The place where I saw her cry her eyes out.
I swallow the lump that’s begun to form in my throat. There is a time for one thing, and a time for another; I called Christopher, he’s on his way, and now there’s no point in falling back into that pit of despair. I’ve got something else I want, I need, to do.
I look up at Evan, who is by my side. The look in his eyes is soft but penetrating at the same time, and it is enough to pull me out of the hole I’ve started to fall into at the sight of the bench.
A wave of warmth and . . .something else crashes over me as I look at him. Time to put my plan into action. “Want to go for a walk with me?” I ask. I check my phone. “We’ve still got over half an hour till Christopher gets here.”
“Yeah,” he says, and I lead him down the slope to the field we do most of our outdoor work at during Green Training. I avoid the places I’ve worked with Neveah, and instead lead him straight across the meadow to the trees on the other side.
I stop when we’re a few trees in, close enough so we can see what’s going on, but far enough in so that we’ve got privacy. My heart is pounding in my chest as I motion to a large, long boulder off to one side. Evan takes a seat on its flat surface, and I join him, twisting around so I’m facing him.
The walls threaten to close in again, to clamp me down and keep my words locked away, but Evan gives me another one of those magnetizing looks, and they fall away.
“Evan,” I say quietly, placing my hand on his arm. I can feel the strong, taut muscle beneath my fingers and I am momentarily distracted. I cannot help but stare at my fingers curling around his beautiful, strong arm, the fabric of his olive green sweatshirt such a contrast against my white hand.
I look up and find him watching me with an exposed, intense look. His brown eyes are bottomless, and this time when the words escape me, it has nothing to do with fear or walls. I lean in and kiss him, softly. The kiss is slow, nothing like our passionate making-out the night before, but it burns with a heated fire of its own, an ember glowing brilliant red, and I feel like my chest has opened up and light is pouring in.
I pull back and lean my forehead against his. Closing my eyes, I inhale his scent. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything more compelling. But I don’t want to turn this into a physical thing; not right now. I want to talk, but his lips are like a magnet, and it’s a struggle to resist them.
Compromise—I place my other hand on his collar, next to his pulsing vein. Evan lets out a soft laugh and I look up at him questioningly. “You really are one hell of a kisser,” he says, and my stomach drops out from under me.
“Me?” My heart is beating wildly as I shake my head. “Look who’s talking.” I create a bit of space between us, so that I can get my head straight—or as straight as it ever can be around Evan.
His smile fades and he studies me, his eyes searching for something in my own. They look at me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at before, and it’s all I can do to remember to breathe. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say, barely able to get the words out.
His voice is a whisper. “Why?”
“Because I can’t concentrate when you look at me that way.” I reach over and cover his eyes with my palm, and he laughs, the moment breaking.
“Fine, okay, okay.” He sobers, and this time the intensity in his eyes is dialed back considerably.
“I want to thank you for being there for me through all this,” I say hesitantly. “It means a lot to me.”
He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers are like fire against my skin. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly.
“No, I do.” I pause, searching for the best words to explain this. “Look, you know that growing up the way I have, I haven’t really learned how to open up to people. I mean, Myra’s been on my case since day one, and I’ve made a lot of progress where it comes to friends—huge progress, actually.” I let out a laugh, and Evan smiles. “But this isn’t the same thing.”
Evan raises an eyebrow. “‘This’?”
I move my hand between us in a back-and-forth motion. “This.”
“Ah, this.” I smile at his tone. “You know,” he says suddenly, “I don’t know if you’re wondering or worried or whatever, but I don’t play around. With girls.”
Between yesterday and today, what with everything that’s happened, the truth is that I haven’t had the chance to even think about it. But his admission is welcome, very welcome, and I am happy he is the first to want to clear up where we stand.
“Good to know.” I bite my lip to mask my smile. “But just so you know, I don’t do anything but exclusive.”
Evan tilts his head to the side. “Look at you, being all assertive on me.” He sounds impressed.
I shrug, the smile on my lips breaking through. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
He seems amused. “So I see.”
“Seriously, though,” I say, sobering. I hadn’t intended on clearing that up now, but it’s not like I’m going to pass up the chance. My heart is hammering in my chest but I keep going. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but—”
“Hey,” he interrupts softly. He holds my eyes for a weighted moment. “There is no way I would ever look at anyone else when I’ve got you. Okay?”
“Okay.” I’m not exactly surprised at his response; I had a feeling he’d say something like this. Evan may be stubborn, he may be difficult at times, but he isn’t a player. I let out a breath. “Okay.”
He leans back, satisfied. “So, go on. You were saying?”
“Yeah. I was saying that I’m still learning how to open up to friends, and so how to be in this”—this time Evan grins—“is still something I’m working on. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Hey,” Evan says in a mildly admonishing tone, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be anything other than yourself. Don’t pressure yourself to be—”
“No, it’s not like that,” I interrupt. “People change. And I need to learn how to open up more. It’s not a pressure; it’s something I want to—need to—do. Okay?”
Evan looks at me for a moment. “Okay.”
“Now,” I begin. My heart beats erratically in my chest and I swallow. I take a deep breath. “I—I want to thank you for being there for me during this whole thing with Neveah . . .” My voice trails off and I swallow down the lump in my throat.
Evan shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve given you a hard time with the whole James issue, haven’t I?”
I push him lightly. “Yeah.”
He laughs, but his voice is serious when he speaks. “Sorry ‘bout that. Me and James—we go way back. And there’s . . . a lot of crap between us.”
I let this sink in; I want to ask him about what happened way back when James moved away, as well as how they made up, but that will have to wait for another time.
“It’s fine,” I reply, and I mean it. “Other than that, though . . .” My voice drops. “You’ve been there for me this entire time.” My eyes land on his temple and my finger reaches for it immediately, before I have time to think about it. This impulse surprises me, but I don’t pull my hand away. Instead, I slowly run one finger down the side of his face to his jawline. Evan closes his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t notice it,” I continue softly. “Because I do . . . and it helps me more than you know.”
I drop my finger and Evan slowly opens his eyes. He looks at me for a moment, and then says, “If this is you fighting to be assertive, I’d like to see you when you really hit your stride.” His tone is light but the look on his face is nowhere near that.
How important my words are for him really hits me then, with that look and that tone, and I resolve to be this person. For me, and for him. “I’ll get there,” I tell him, and my eyes are drawn on his lips.
Once again, it’s like time has slowed down and there is nothing but this moment, nothing but the feel of his hand on my waist, his sweater under my fingers, the scent of pine searing my nose. I lean in and kiss him, softly but deeply at the same time, twining my fingers in his hair as I pull him closer to me. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of his lips, in the touch of his fingers along my nape. My head is spinning, and I could be flying, flying. I let out a soft whimper as he gently pulls on my lower lip, but I push him back and stumble to my feet, because if I don’t stop this right now, I don’t know how I will ever be able to.
Evan looks up at me, surprised. His lips are swollen and he has a dazed look on his face. “What happened?” His voice is clogged, thick with something I can feel in myself, and he clears it.
I look at him hungrily, but I stay away. “We have to get back to the others,” I say. “And if I keep on kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”
Evan sucks in his lips in an attempt to hide his smile, and I think I deserve a medal for not launching myself at him right now. “Okay. Just . . . give me a minute.”
“Why—oh.”
His cheeks redden slightly; I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen him blush. He says, “Sorry. I just, I can’t help it. You’re just . . .” He shakes his head.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Evan laughs, a surprised, clear sound. “Definitely not.”
I smile; I’ve never talked about these things—anything in the sexual territory, really—with a guy before, and even though my heart races, I kind of like it. Not that I say this to Evan; I think I’ve said enough already.
A few minutes later, Evan gets up from the boulder. I can’t help it; when he’s not looking, I sneak a glance at his crotch. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. Okay, then. We’re all set.
And so, I take is hand in mine and lead him back to where our friends are waiting for us.