Mindspeak Page 4

  He stood and darted to a bathroom stall. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he threw up. He returned to the sink. I heard running water. My vision was fuzzy.

  Next, I felt the coolness of his fingers linger around my forehead. I tried to focus on his eyes, but couldn’t.

  “You’re going to be fine.” One arm slid under my legs, the other hugged my back, and he lifted. He bent his head into my neck, his breath next to my ear. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Four

  I woke in a haze. An orange glow shone through the blinds of a window to my left. I smelled a strange mix of alcohol and Clorox. When I moved, my head hurt a little.

  “Hey, hon,” a female voice to my right said. “I’m Barb, the nurse. How you feelin’?”

  A lady dressed in white scrubs decorated with different colored band-aids fiddled with a stethoscope hanging around her neck. Her platinum blond hair was tucked into a short ponytail.

  “What happened?” I inspected the length of my body, still clothed in my navy sweats and hooded sweatshirt.

  “You bumped your head. You’ve suffered a slight concussion, I think.” She lifted my arm and slid a blood pressure cuff over it.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked as she pumped.

  “Oh, not long at all. Thirty minutes, maybe.” She set the sleeve aside and shone a light just above my eyes. “Follow my finger.”

  I did as instructed.

  “Nice knot, though.”

  I lifted my fingers and brushed the spot on my forehead. Jack. My eyes darted around the room. Then at my arm. I wiggled my fingers and then swallowed hard. “The guy who brought me in?”

  She placed the stethoscope over my heart and listened. “He said he would check in on you later.” She smiled. “Handsome young man. He seemed very worried about you. Attentive. You’ve got yourself a keeper there.”

  Yes, handsome. And frightening. I massaged my arm. No pain whatsoever. My arm had been broken. I was sure of it. I had practically passed out from the pain.

  Had he healed it? Was that humanly possible? He had said I wasn’t ready. Ready for what, exactly? Had he healed me with his mind?

  If that was the case, my mindspeaking ability seemed trivial in comparison.

  I threw my head back against the pillow, wincing from the headache as I did. “Can I go? Are you keeping me for any reason?” I had to find Jack. He couldn’t just leave me after doing whatever it was he did.

  “You suffered a concussion. You’ll need to sleep here overnight.”

  Oh, no I won’t. “Barb, is it?” When she nodded, I reached for some tissues beside me and began building my case. Look, Barb. It’s only a slight concussion. My roommate can watch me overnight and make sure no worrisome symptoms pop up. You will allow me to go. Make notes in my file that I appeared to have no long-lasting symptoms.

  Barb began scribbling in my medical file, then smiled. “You’re all set.”

  “Great.” I swung my legs around and planted my feet firmly on the ground. Barb backed away forcing me to rely on my own balancing ability.

  Placing my full weight on my feet, I stood, swaying slightly. I steadied myself with one hand and wiped my bleeding nose with the other. “I feel fine,” I lied. I wiggled the fingers on my right hand in front of my face. More fine than I should feel.

  I slid into my sliders and reached for my bag at the end of the bed. “Thanks, Barb.”

  “You’ll call if you feel light headed again?”

  Maybe. “You’ll be the first.”

  I walked slowly, stretching my hands out for balance. The minute I was at the door, I pushed through with caution and dug for my phone. The sun was fully set on the horizon, leaving just a faint glow in the west. Students congregated outside the library, across from the infirmary. Some girls screamed. I jerked toward the sound. Just some students horsing around, but the quick motion made me dizzy.

  I dialed the only number I had for my father and reached his voice mail. “Dad. You have to call me. Something strange happened tonight. I really need to talk to you.” Not to be confused with every other night that I need to talk to you. “You never called me after the dinner, and… Just call me. Okay? I… I love you.”

  I shut off the call and slid the phone in my pocket. Where in the world would I find Jack this time of night? Did I even want to find Jack?

  ~~~~

  “But, Lexi,” Danielle said. “Bree worked the dinner shift tonight. She was in charge of scraping.” Danielle smiled at that. It always gave us satisfaction to see Princess Briana Howard scrunch up her nose at the smells while scraping half-eaten Salisbury steak and applesauce off the dinner trays into an over-sized trash can.

  “Are you sure? She was there the whole time?” That blows that theory all to pieces. Who would want to scare me like that if not Briana?

  “Yeah.” Danielle straightened her legs out in front of her on the floor and leaned her chest forward, reaching her hands to curl her fingers around her feet. “Now, tell me again how you ended up in the infirmary?”

  I leaned back against my headboard, staring at a pile of books in front of me. “I told you. I ran from the locker room, straight into Jack. We bumped heads. And I ended up with a slight concussion.” I wished that was the whole story. I rubbed my right arm where my wrist had been broken. I was sure of it. Now, it was like nothing had happened. No pain. No bruising.

  Panic bubbled up in my chest again remembering how Jack had touched my arm. Healed the broken bone. A chill ran down my spine. When I’d gone looking for him, no one knew where he was. Not his roommate. Not Briana. Like she’d tell me if she did know. Not many knew who Jack was yet. Obviously, I didn’t know who he was.

  “No, I mean the part about you falling on top of him. Tell me that part again. I like that part.” She lifted her head. A side braid snaked around her neck and hung past her shoulder. A playful grin spread across her face. “What?” she asked when I cocked my head. “You could use a little sexy in your life. Did you get a load of his abs?”

  “There’s absolutely nothing romantic going on between me and Jack. Besides, he’s already been admitted to The Program and is applying for pre-med.” I bent my head into the hood of my sweatshirt. The smell of his shower gel lingered there from where he carried me to the infirmary. I still remembered the warmth of his breath on my neck.

  When I woke up in an infirmary bed, he was gone, but his scent was there, and the lightheadedness from his touch to my arm hung on like a good flu.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Danielle rolled her eyes. “You don’t date doctor-types.”

  “Or Wellington guys.” I picked up my trig book and draped it across my lap. I had to put the past twenty-four hours and Jack out of my head and study. How did I ever expect to be accepted to a pre-med program if I didn’t keep my grades up? Just because I had no intention of applying to The Program didn’t mean I didn’t want to go to medical school. “Wait a minute. When did you see his abs?”

  She shrugged. “A group of us played lacrosse out on the front lawn this afternoon. He may have removed his shirt for part of it. Man-oh-man.” Her legs now spread wide, she used ballet arms to stretch a hand to the opposite foot. “He’s not my type, of course, but definitely something new and improved to look at around here.”

  “What do you mean not your type? What’s not to like? Sandy blond hair. Blue eyes with the depth of the ocean.” I fluttered my eyelashes, lifted my hand and fanned my face. “Swoon.”

  Danielle reached up on her bed and threw a pillow at me. “I knew it! And here I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “Easy,” I yelled. “The head.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Anyway, I’m not interested, but I’m not blind, Danielle.” I flipped the page of my book. “Remind me again. Why am I taking this class?” I tried to change the subject.

  “The same reason you take all the advanced classes. So you can be a famous doctor like your father some day. You and Jack were cut from similar mol
ds, apparently.” She pushed herself up to her feet, straightened her legs, and leaned her chest against her knees.

  “Oh, yeah.” I shook my head as her words sunk in. I didn’t want to be famous, but I did want to become a doctor. A pediatrician, maybe. So I had to do well on this test and every other if I was going to get accepted to a top pre-med program early. “I just hope Dad understands when I don’t turn in my application to The Program.”

  “I guess I’m lucky. My parents couldn’t care less what I do with my life after high school.”

  I frowned at Danielle. “Have you talked to them recently?

  She shook her head.

  My phone alerted me to a new text.

  “Lexi, love, I need that address.”

  I dialed the number where the text came from. It wasn’t even a real phone number. Just a free texting service.

  “Something wrong?” Danielle had finished her stretching and was opening her own books in the middle of her bed.

  I stared at my phone. “I don’t think so.” Except, I was certain that these texts were not originating from Dad. He never called me “Love.”

  Something strange was going on. I couldn’t find Dad. I couldn’t find Jack. I needed answers.

  Chapter Five

  Jack successfully avoided me the whole next day. And the day after that. He was supposed to be in most of my classes, but it was as if he never existed. Never transferred to Wellington.

  By Thursday afternoon, I had worked up quite an attitude. I was nearly late to trigonometry, sneaking in just as the bell rang.

  There, in the back of the room sitting next to Briana, was Jack. He laughed at something the prima donna said. When he met my glare, the corners of his lips tightened into a straight line.

  One smoldering look from him ignited electric shocks in the synapses of my nervous system and traveled from the center of my brain to the pit of my stomach, then on to the tip of my big toe.

  What was he doing to me?

  I dropped my bag to the floor beside my chair, and sat heavily just as Mr. Crain handed me my test. A big fat “C” was scribbled in red at the top. That wasn’t going to help my cause to get accepted to a top college or make my father proud.

  Trying to calm myself, I stuffed the test in my bag. As I did, I checked my phone again, hoping for a message or something from Dad. And not another text from an unknown number.

  I hadn’t heard from either since the night I hit my head and broke my arm.

  I tried to sneak another look behind me. When I turned my head, my eyes met Jack’s, staring straight at me.

  Briana reached a hand and brushed her fingers along Jack’s arm. After a whisper, a giggle, and a hair flip, he turned his attention back toward her.

  I concentrated my thoughts at her hard. Scoot away from him, Bree. You don’t even like that idiotic loser. Plus, he thinks you’re pathetic. Do you really want to be associated with a jerk like him?

  Briana immediately scooted her chair a couple of inches away from Jack. Her hair fell forward, shielding her face. She situated her body to face toward the windows and away from Jack.

  He raised an eyebrow at her sudden movement and then redirected his gaze at me, catching me in a grin.

  I felt the blood leak from my nose. I whipped around and dug a tissue from my bag.

  I had so many questions for Jack. I didn’t need Bree hanging all over him in the meantime.

  Had I imagined my broken arm? And the fact that his touch healed it?

  What about the headache the first day we met?

  An hour passed. Class was nearly over. Fortunately, the bleeding stopped. But my notebook page in front of me was blank. I had managed to blow off the entire class.

  Suddenly, the idea of confronting Jack overwhelmed me. My hands began to sweat. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready for whatever it was he could tell me.

  The bell rang, and I panicked. Overcome with nausea and intense fear, I darted from my seat and out the door.

  Not quick enough.

  Jack’s fingers slid around my elbow as I rounded the corner. “We need to talk.” His voice was low, steady as he followed close.

  I stopped. Even I could sense the rapid rise and fall of my chest. “Why?”

  “Are you serious?”

  I pulled my arm from him. “Why now?” I lowered my voice, looking around to see if anyone was listening. No one was. My fear slowly began to morph into something different. A tight ball of fire churned in my stomach. Heat traveled up the back of my neck. “I mean, I plow you over, we hit heads, I break my arm, and magically my arm is all better? Then, you just disappear for like three days. So, why now?” I hated how much I sounded like a whiny four-year-old.

  He gestured with a hand for me to walk. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you a Coke or something.” He placed his hand in the small of my back and we wove our way through classmates congregating in the hallway. Their faces were happy and light, unaffected by the way Jack led me away from them. To others looking on, we probably seemed like a couple.

  Heat from his palm seeped through my thin blouse. His calmness compared to the anxiety bubbling in my chest made me want to scream, but I buried it.

  “What would you like?” he asked when we arrived at the campus store.

  I examined my choices. “A green tea?”

  He waited patiently behind a couple of our younger girls, who cupped their hands over their mouths, giggling. Eventually, he grabbed a cold green tea and a Mountain Dew from the display case, paid for both and led me back outside.

  We walked without speaking. For someone new to Wellington, he knew exactly where he was going. I followed him to the bleachers overlooking the multi-purpose ball field where the boys’ lacrosse team was practicing.

  “How’d you do on the trig test?” he asked as we climbed to the top and sat. He handed me the tea.

  I cocked my head. “Is that why you bought me a drink and dragged me all the way out here? To talk about the trig test?”

  A crease formed between his eyes. “I just wondered if you were able to study for it after what happened the other night.” He frowned, sucking in a deep breath. “You need the grades to get accepted to The Program.”

  “Ah, yes. The Program.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you leave the infirmary so soon? You really should have stayed until the doctor said it was safe for you to leave. Concussions can be very serious.”

  I nodded, then looked away toward the Kentucky farmland that stretched behind the small stadium. He was right, of course, the concussion could have been serious, but as it turned out, it wasn’t. A slight breeze blew a wisp of hair across my face. I pushed it back behind my ear, and when I got up my nerve, I faced Jack. “What was that? Did I imagine my broken arm?” I couldn’t suppress the shakiness in my voice. Did I really want to know?

  He kept his gaze on me, never breaking eye contact. “You didn’t imagine it. Your arm was broken. In two places.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “How’d you do that?”

  “The short and easy answer is I don’t really know.”

  “You don’t know?” That’s just perfect.

  As if he could hear my exasperation, his tone became defensive. “How do you alter people’s feelings?”

  A blush crept onto my cheeks, and I turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, sure you do. At the dinner the other night. My father. You tried to calm him before he hit your dad… And what? You thought I wouldn’t notice Briana’s sudden coolness toward me. You jealous, Lexi?”

  I snapped my head toward him. “I most certainly am not.”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Then why go to the trouble of giving yourself a nosebleed? That’s what happens, right? When you think too hard at someone else.”

  I broke eye contact again. “You know how crazy that sounds, right?”

  “Crazier than fixing broken bones?”

  “Which makes y
ou violently ill.” It was not a question. I thought of him racing to the toilet in the girls’ locker room. “For three days?” He nodded. My heart sunk just a little. He’d made himself sick and revealed a huge secret over my broken arm?

  “It was a pretty bad break,” he said, his voice regretful.

  I doubled over and gasped for a breath as if I had been hit in the stomach with a soccer ball. This was all too much. I’d spent my whole life hiding my ability, pretending it wasn’t happening at first. Then I found a way to kind of enjoy it and use it to my advantage. However, healing a broken bone is a far cry from altering someone’s thoughts. “You’re not answering the question.” I reached a hand to massage the spot over my heart. “How is it possible that you fixed my arm?”

  “Are you ready to hear this?”

  “Do I have a choice?” How could I possibly know if I was ready? “Who are you, Jack?” I spoke softly, almost a whisper. I should have asked, what are you? What was I, for that matter? Except that sounded too much like I thought we were aliens or something.

  “You know who I am. I’m the son of your dad’s ex-lab partner.”

  “From eighteen years ago. What does that have to do with me now?”

  Jack scooted closer to me and leaned in like he had a secret to tell. He rested his elbows on his knees and dangled the Mountain Dew can in front of him. “Do you know much about the history of your father’s research?”

  “The history of it? Like the fact that he and your father cloned some goat more than twenty years ago, the goat died, and the lab and all evidence of the research burned to the ground?” That was all in the papers. “Or, Jack, are you talking about the time he spent after that attempting early retirement? When that didn’t work, he returned to the lab to study stem cells, which turned out not to be good enough for my mom. So, she left soon after I was born, and Dad took off for Europe or somewhere while my grandmother raised me? To which part of this history are you referring?” I hated myself for letting my emotional family scars creep into the conversation.

  Jack’s mouth opened like he was about to speak, then closed. His stare made me shift where I sat. Finally, he said, “I’m speaking of the embryonic cloning part of the history.”