Pivot Point (21 page)

The distant lights from the stadium mask half his face in shadows. “Thanks, Addison. And for the record, whatever you left behind, whatever has you feeling like you’re floating here, doesn’t define you either.”

I want to ask him what does define me. Who he sees when he looks at me. But I can’t get the words out. They sit in the back of my throat for fear he won’t know the answer to that question either.

“But,” he continues, “if you need something to hold on to until you feel grounded, I make a pretty good anchor.”

An unexpected feeling of warmth fills my chest and makes me want to hug him or cry. I can’t do either. “Yeah, you proved that.”

He laughs. “Do you want to go watch the rest of the game?”

“Not really, but I left Laila up there.”

“Okay, I’ll see you Monday then.” I watch him until he disappears into the blackness.

When I get back, Laila gives me a sideways glance. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, right …”

“What did I miss?” I ask, changing the subject. When Laila gets an idea in her head, no matter how off base it is, it’s best not to try to talk her out of it.

“Only Duke being awesome,” she says with a smile. “But I’m sure he’ll do it again.”

Fifteen minutes pass, and she leans toward me. “Told you.”

I glance up at the scoreboard—21 to 3. Five minutes left. We’re getting our butts kicked. “Are you ready to cover for me? I’m going down to the locker room.”

“Yeah, go already.”

In the locker room I position myself behind a bin of soccer balls and wait. It feels like it takes forever, especially since the grass/sweat combination isn’t a pleasant smell. Why am I doing this?

A couple years ago Laila showed up to lunch holding the janitor’s golf-cart code and a skateboard attached to a rope. “We won’t get caught. Search it,” she said, when I refused. I did. Even though the skateboard path led to one of the best days ever, it also led to the principal’s office. I chose the other option. The safe one.

My knees scream out in pain from squatting behind the soccer balls for so long. I am doing this because I have to know … for Trevor. Just as I stand to stretch them out, the hollers and stomping feet of a large body of people echo through the halls. I push myself farther into my hideout.

Before I had the brilliant idea to inject myself into this situation, I hadn’t thought about the logistics of what would actually happen in the locker room. But when I hear water running, I turn all the way around and press my face against the wall. Slowly, some of the players trickle into the rows of lockers, where I can pick up on conversations. Nothing interesting is being said. I don’t know what I had hoped to hear. Obviously no one is going to come out and say,
So who should we purposefully maim next week?

“Duke, great game,” a loud voice says. Several others agree with the comment and give an appreciative
whoop
.

“Thanks, guys. You too.”

“That was some great soothing out there tonight,” a guy I don’t recognize says.

Then Duke says, “Just a little influence is all it takes to make the other team as docile as little girls.”

I peer around the soccer balls to see if I can see the Mood Controller—I’m assuming Andrew—who Duke is talking to. I recognize one of the guys standing next to him—Ray—they were constantly together. The other guy is scrawnier; maybe he’s the freshman. These were the people who ruined Trevor’s career—Duke, obviously the mastermind, and his minions. But who did the actual injuring? Laila had said there weren’t any Mass Manipulators on the team. The only Mass Manipulator I know is…

Bobby? Could he be involved somehow? And why? Did he even know Duke? Did he go to the football games? I’d have to ask Laila.

I stand by the soccer balls until the locker room has emptied out. I feel like my brain has been emptied out as well. Disappointment is slowly filling in the curiosity of before. Deep down I thought I would prove Rowan wrong, not right. I sink to the floor. Is this really the kind of people we have become? The kind who can use their powers to hurt others without any remorse? I wonder what the locker room sounded like after Trevor’s injury had been successfully administered—did they congratulate one another that night? The thought makes me sick.

When I don’t hear anyone, I abandon my hideout and walk toward the exit. Apparently I should’ve walked faster, because Duke rounds the corner and slams right into me, sending me flying backward.

“Oh, jeez,” he says, startled. “I’m sorry.” He holds out his hand to help me up. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I ignore his offered hand and push myself up off the ground.

“Hey, you’re Addie Coleman.”

“Yes. I am.”

He flashes me a killer smile. “Clairvoyant, right?”

It catches me off guard to hear someone say my ability out loud like that again. I look around. “Yeah, sort of.” I rub at my stinging palm.

“Are you hurt?” He takes my hand in his and inspects it. A chill goes through me as he traces a finger over the tiny scratches on my palm.

His hair smells good and seems to freeze me in place for a moment. I finally regain my senses and take my hand back, wiping it a few times on my jeans. “I’m fine.”

One corner of his mouth goes up into a half smile, and my heart seems to think this is the most adorable thing in the world. I remind myself of who he is and what he’s been doing, and the annoyance comes rushing back.

“Laila told me you moved. Did you move here? To Dallas?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re missed.”

“I know what you’re doing,” I say evenly.

He lowers his head with a smile and kicks at the ground. “My flirting isn’t very subtle, is it?”

Flirting?
“Not that. I’m talking about you and your friends using your abilities to get ahead.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “And?”

Anger surges through me. “And it’s wrong.”

“So you’re saying you’ve never used your ability to help yourself?”

“I don’t hurt people.”

“Neither do I,” he says.

“That’s right, you just stand back and let your friends do the dirty work while you reap the benefits. I don’t get it. What’s in it for them?”

Duke’s perfect eyebrows lower, and I’m distracted by the notion that he must pluck them. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’m talking about how one by one your competition is falling down around you and you’ll be the only good quarterback left standing. Congratulations, your plan is working. I hope your victory feels as hollow as your heart. But at least you’ll have your pick of colleges, right?”

Duke’s smile has fallen and has been replaced by a look of shock. “What?”

“Don’t try to deny it. I heard you telling your buddy that all he has to do is influence emotions a little.”

“Yeah, emotions are influenced, but not for the reasons you’re claiming. It just makes the competition less aggressive, a little more relaxed. It’s not meant to hurt anyone, just to keep me from getting sacked.” If my dad were here, I know he’d tell me that Duke is lying. “Listen. Let’s talk about this. Can I buy you a burger or something?”

All I want to do is punch Duke in the stomach on Trevor’s behalf, and he wants to buy me a burger? “No.”

“Addison?” I whirl around to see Trevor standing in the wide corridor. The guys stare at each other, and I panic. I walk quickly toward Trevor.

“Call me sometime, Addie,” Duke says from behind me. Now I want to punch him in the stomach for my own reasons. I keep walking, grab Trevor’s hand, and lead him away. His hand is warm and strong, and I don’t let it go even when we’re outside.

“What was that all about? Do you … know him?”

If I’m ever going to tell him the truth about where I’m from, now would be the perfect time. “No. I don’t. I was just trying to find stuff out, you know, spy. For Rowan.”

I’m trying to walk as fast as possible, but Trevor slows down, and I’m forced to slow down with him.

“And?”

“And what?”

He squeezes my hand. “Did you find out anything?”

Only that Rowan is right. You were injured on purpose
. I want to say that so bad, but how can I when I’m not allowed to talk about abilities? I hate lying to him so much that my stomach is rebelling against me with painful cramps. “I know you said Duke is a nice guy, but I don’t see it.”

dis•PAR•Age
:
v.
to make someone feel stupid

Duke runs out of the locker room and picks me up in a hug. “It was so good to have you here at my game. Looking up in the stands and seeing you there made me play better.”

He is so full of crap, but it still makes me smile. “Really?”

“You’ll have to come see some of my college games next year.”

“Where will that be?”

“You tell me.”

“Funny.”

Two of Duke’s teammates come out of the locker room. One is a smaller guy whose name I don’t know, and the other is Duke’s best friend, Ray. He’s at least a head taller than Duke and twice as wide. He points at me, “Hey, Addie, you seen my future yet?”

I smile. “I haven’t been looking.”

Duke clears his throat and looks over my shoulder. I turn to see the Norm guy Laila and I had seen before—Trevor. He looks sad? Angry, maybe? “Hey, man,” Duke says. “Are you checking out my girlfriend?”

It’s dark outside, but Trevor’s face deepens a shade. “No, not at all.”

“Why not? She’s hot.”

“Stop it, Duke,” I say.

“I’m just messing with you, man.”

Trevor looks among the four of us, probably wishing he could disappear. I have a similar feeling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Trevor says. “I just wanted to say great game tonight.”

Duke puts his hand on his own chest and says, “Thanks, man, that means a lot. How’s your shoulder doing?”

“It’s all right. Anyway, good to see you.”

When he leaves, Duke’s two teammates exchange a look and a laugh that I’m sure Trevor hears. “That wasn’t funny,” I say.

“It was a little funny,” Duke says.

They laugh again and the two of them start to walk away. “See you two later,” Ray says, over his shoulder.

“Bye, Ray,” Duke says. “See ya, Andrew.”

I stare off into the distance, where I can barely make out the dark shadow of Trevor’s retreating form. “How do you know that Trevor guy?” I ask Duke.

“Is that his name? I had completely forgotten. Was it obvious?”

“No, you pulled it off pretty well.”

“Good.” He pulls me close again. “We were up for the same award last year.”

“Who won?”

“Is that even a real question?” He smiles at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Do you always get everything you want?”

“Pretty much.” He kisses me. His lips are soft, and I try not to forget myself. He pulls away. “So where’s Laila?”

“I’m not sure. She went and had a soda with some Norm boy and never came back. I think she was just toying with him, practicing Thought Placement. I’ll text her.” I pull out my phone.
Hey, are you ready to go? My dad said we can all stay the night at his house.

Duke’s reading over my shoulder and he asks, “Is your dad going to like me?”

“Doesn’t everyone like you?”

My phone chimes.
I’ll meet you at the truck in ten minutes.

Duke and I have been waiting for Laila for so long that the parking lot has completely emptied out. We even waved goodbye to the team bus heading back to the Compound. And now Duke’s giving me a play-by-play of the entire game. I lower the tailgate on the truck my mom rented for us and sit. “You do realize I was there, right?”

“Yes, but you weren’t watching half the time, and I know you’re dying to know what you missed.”

If by “dying,” he meant that it was bad enough watching from the stands and hearing it now without the action is making me die of boredom then, “So true.”

He positions himself between my knees, his back to me, and I rest my head against him. His voice vibrates my cheek as he continues to talk. The long day catches up with me and I feel myself drifting.

“I’m coming,” Laila yells from across the empty parking lot. “Sorry.”

I sit up, shaking my head until I’m fully awake. “How was Normville?”

“Rowan is funny. He is so curious about us. He kept asking the weirdest questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like why our school doesn’t have a website and why our football players never get injured.”

“Did you tell him it’s because we’re made of steel?” Duke steps away from the tailgate and helps me down.

“No, I just kissed him. That got his easily distracted mind off things.”

“You kissed a Norm?” Duke’s expression seems stuck between surprise and disgust.

“Yeah, I did.”

Duke draws his brows together like he’s about to ask a scientific question. “Was he any good?”

I laugh so hard that I have to steady myself against the truck.

“It’s not that funny. I’m just curious. She kissed a Norm, Addie. As in no abilities whatsoever.”

Laila’s lips purse, and her fists tighten—probably because I’m still laughing and Duke still looks partially disgusted. “Okay, Mr. Mover, how does Telekinesis help you kiss?”

“It doesn’t help, but when I kiss, I heighten all my senses, so I can anticipate every move, hear every noise …” He trails off when I stop laughing and widen my eyes. “You don’t?” he asks me.

“Uh …” I turn toward Laila. “Do you?”

“Yes. So there, Duke. You’ve been kissing a Norm and didn’t even realize it.”

“I’m not a Norm,” I say defensively.

Duke shuts the tailgate. “Don’t worry, I never would’ve guessed.”

“I wasn’t worried. You guys quite obviously think too much when you kiss. Some things don’t require extra thinking. Maybe you’re the ones doing it wrong. How are you supposed to feel anything when you have to concentrate so hard?” I know the more I talk, the more defensive I sound. But I can’t help it. It’s not often you get told you’ve been kissing wrong. “Let’s go.”

“My turn to drive,” Laila says. I drop the keys into her upturned hand and walk to the passenger door.

“I’m sure you’re a great kisser, Addie,” Laila says, unlocking the door. I get in.