Pivot Point (23 page)

I move to Duke’s desk to get paper. In the middle drawer I dig through some pages to find a blank sheet. As I grab a piece, a group of stapled pages comes up with it. I pull it free and start to put it back, but a bright yellow mark catches my eye. It’s an alphabetized list of all the kids at school and their abilities. It looks like it was printed off the school computer. I find my name at the bottom of the page: Coleman, Addison. The word
Clairvoyant
next to my name is highlighted yellow.

That was the word I was directed to write on my registration papers when I signed up for high school. Clairvoyant. I remember my mom arguing with the dean, telling him that wasn’t my ability.
It falls in the same class,
he said,
and our computers don’t recognize the term Divergence or whatever you said her ability is called.
Here my mom sighed. She hates it when people act like I’m the only one in existence with this ability. My ability may be rare, but I’m not the only one.

It’s just a technicality anyway,
he assured her,
to make sure she gets put in the right classes for her tendencies
.
This isn’t her official government record. When she passes her ability markers, you can take up her title with the Bureau.

I will,
my mother assured him. And she would.

In the meantime my school records show Clairvoyant. The word that is now bright yellow in front of me.

Duke’s phone chimes, causing me to jump. I look to where I had set it on his desk. It just takes the slightest movement of my hand across the screen to bring the text message up. It’s from Ray.

We’re meeting Thursday night @ Fat Jacks to talk about football game strategy. 7 o’clock.

I close the message and look back to the paper, a surge of anger working its way up my chest as the implications of this highlighted word sink into my mind.

The door behind me shuts, and I whirl around, the paper fluttering to the ground with my movement. “Duke, you scared me.”

He smiles. “You weren’t expecting me to walk into my room?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I was about to go because my mom will be expecting me. You left your cell phone, so I was going to leave you a note.”

With those words his eyes move to the paper on the floor, and a look of panic flashes across his face, then is gone just as fast. It’s the only confirmation I need.

“You’re using me.” Anger stings my eyes.

“What? No. That’s not true.”

I point at the paper. “Then explain that?”

“Okay, maybe at first I thought you could help me out, tell me my future, which college I’d do the best at. But then I got to know you. It hasn’t been about that in a long time.”

Tears attempt to fill my eyes, but I push them down, frustrated by their presence. “Well, you should’ve done your homework better, because I can’t tell your future, only mine.”

“Exactly. See, don’t you think if I were using you, once I learned the exact nature of your ability I would’ve been gone?” He holds up his hands and takes a step toward me.

The edge of his desk presses into the backs of my legs. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you know, Addie.” He reaches me and runs his hands along my shoulders, then kisses my cheek. My suspicion starts to waver.

He takes my arms and wraps them around his waist. My anger melts to uncertainty as his hand moves softly down my hair. “Addie, I don’t need to be Clairvoyant to see you in my future. I want you there. I need you there. If you can’t trust me, Search it. You’ll see me there too.” He tucks a section of my hair behind my ear and then kisses my jawline.

“That’s not how it works. I can’t just Search my future.”

“I bet you could if you tried hard enough. And when you see me there, you’ll have to apologize for all this mistrust.”

I meet his eyes and when they’re full of sincerity I feel guilty. “I think I’m just waiting for reality to hit. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with me. We’re so different.”

“Different is good. Right? I wouldn’t want to date myself.” He kisses me softly. “I’m falling for you, Addie. Don’t break my heart.”

I lay my head against his chest, and he holds me tight. My eyes find the paper on the floor. The black letters of my ability stand out bold against their yellow background. He must sense my gaze, because he picks up the paper. “Look.” He drops it into the slotted recycle bin next to his desk. It sizzles as the solution disintegrates it. “Gone,” he says, and pulls me back against him.

aNO[R]M•a•ly
:
n.
a deviation from the (agreed upon) arrangement

I end up on Trevor’s front porch, holding a heating pad and a graphic novel from my house. I hope he’s not disappointed to see me after I didn’t warn him about Stephanie’s party. Brody answers the door. “Hi, Addison.”

“Hi, is your brother here?”

“Yeah, he’s in his room, but he shut the door and when he shuts the door that means he doesn’t want anyone to talk to him.”

“But I brought him a book. Do you think I could just give it to him and then leave?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Okay.”

“Trevor,” I say, outside his door with a small knock. “Are you decent?” There’s no answer. I knock again and try the handle, but it’s locked. “Trevor, please.” I rest my forehead against the door. Never before have I wished I was Bobby, but his ability to manipulate mass and walk through solid objects would come in handy right now.

Brody comes to my side, holding up a key. “Don’t tell him I gave it to you.”

I hug him. “You are a little angel.”

He blushes and runs away.

Trevor’s room is dark; only the light from the desk lamp is on. He’s bent over his desk, drawing. “Trevor?”

“You might not want to stay. I’m busy feeling sorry for myself.” He throws a smile over his shoulder.

The cord to the heating pad slips down my arm and sways by my legs. I look around, remembering all the things about his room that make me cringe a little but at the same time are so him: his messy closet, his unorganized bookshelf, his overflowing trash. I walk forward, searching the wall by Trevor’s desk for an outlet. When I find one, I plug in the heating pad and turn the dial to hot. It takes a few minutes to heat up.

“What are you doing?” he asks, when I drape the pad over his right shoulder.

This was a tip from my dad on how Norms heal sore muscles. “I thought you were probably sore from your performance tonight. And I brought you this too.” I set the book on the corner of his desk.

He stares at the cover without saying a word, then puts his left hand on top of the heating pad and closes his eyes with a wince.

“Too hot?”

“No, it feels good.”

I take the opportunity to study his face. The tips of his lashes nearly touch his cheekbones. His dark hair falls across his forehead and curls up at the ends. His nose is strong, with a knot on the bridge. I wonder if it’s another football injury. And his lips are thin, but smooth, no cracks or dryness. He probably drinks a lot of water, or maybe he puts on lots of lip balm.

When I look back up to his eyes, he’s looking at me. I blush. “Well,” I say, “I’ll leave you alone now. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Stephanie’s plans for tonight. That was a major best-friend failure on my part.” I turn and walk toward the door.

“Addison. Can I show you something?”

I spin back around. He’s sitting sideways now, holding up a piece of paper. I move back to the desk. It appears to be a page from his comic. I take it and read through several panels. It’s obviously the middle of the story, but the drawings are great and the conversations interesting. It surprises me that he’s letting me see it after his brother said he doesn’t show it to anyone. Why would he show this to me? Have I really earned it?

When my lungs start to burn, I realize I’m holding my breath. I suck in some air. There’s a tug on the bottom of my shirt, and I look down to see a section of it wrapped around his finger. My eyes dart to his, and he’s staring at me with intensity. My whole body feels like it’s turned to liquid, and I barely resist the urge to melt to the floor.

He takes the heating pad off his shoulder and sets it on the desk. “You want to be best friends?” Has his voice always sounded so smoky?

I nod. No matter how I might feel, I know we can’t be more than that. It’s too complicated. I am lying to him. I can’t have a relationship here when no one will ever know the real me. Plus we’re good as friends. Really, really, g—

He grabs hold of my hips and pulls me forward. “You didn’t fail me tonight. You saved me. I must’ve looked like the biggest idiot.”

I shake my head no, his hands on my hips making my breath come in shallow sips.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You’re confusing me.”

“Really? And here I thought I was making things more clear.” He tightens his hold, and a chill goes through me. I hear footsteps running down the hall. Trevor releases me, and I take two steps back just as Brody bursts into the room. “Mom says I have to say good night and go to bed now.”

“Night, little man,” Trevor says. Why does he seem perfectly relaxed? My breath still hasn’t returned.

“How come it’s so dark in here?” Brody asks, looking up at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed since I first walked in, but now it seems pitch-black and suspicious.

“We just forgot to turn on the lights,” I blurt out. “It didn’t look so dark because the desk lamp is on, but now it does.” I practically run to the light switch and flip it on. When I walk back over, Trevor’s eyes have a teasing smile in them.

“Say good night to Addison,” Trevor says to Brody.

“Good night, Addison.”

“Good night.”

“Brody,” a woman’s voice calls, followed by the woman herself. “Let’s go.” She’s pretty: long hair, dark eyes, curvy. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and has a pair of fluffy red slippers on her feet. She meets my eyes. “Oh,” she says in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had company, Trev.”

“Mom, this is Addison.”

She comes into the room and holds out her hand. “I’m DeAnn, good to meet you.”

I shake her hand. “You too.”

“I don’t know if Trevor warned you about me, but whenever I meet one of his friends, I like to get the basics so I feel like I’m in the loop. I know it embarrasses Trevor to no end, but that’s what moms do. So tell me a little about yourself.”

“Um.”
Is she serious?
I look at Trevor, and he nods as if to say,
Yes, she’s totally serious, and I’m sorry.
“Okay, well, I go to Carter High with your son. I’m a junior. Uh …” I freeze up, because this is the part where I would normally say where I’m from and I can’t bring myself to once again tell that lie. I search my mind, but the first things that pop into it are weird, random facts. Somehow I don’t think Trevor’s mom is asking for the story of my first kiss or wants to know that I have a sensitive gag reflex.

“She loves to read, Mom. Like these really old, boring books. The ones Dad likes.” He points to the graphic novel on his desk. “Plus lame ones, like I do. And she’s not a huge football fan. I think she only tolerates it for our sake. She’s supersmart, my main competition in Government. And since coming into my room, she has probably had to stop herself several times from cleaning up the shoes spilling out of my closet.”

His mom laughs. “Maybe you can teach Trev some organization, then.”

I nod dumbly. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I tell myself very forcefully that I’m not going to cry over the fact that Trevor just listed off several things about me like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Brody tugs on his mom’s arm impatiently.

“Oh,” Trevor continues, “and remember how I always used to get detention for being late to sixth period?”

His mom shakes her head in disapproval. “Yes.”

“Well, Addison is so anal about being on time that she forces all of us to get back to campus after lunch.”

“I do not.” My voice comes out a little wobbly and I wonder if he noticed.

“Yes. You do.”

His mom smiles at me. “That’s not a bad thing. I, for one, am grateful that someone can get this boy back to school on time. I think people as easygoing as Trevor don’t worry about small things like the
concept of time
.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mom, I know, I’m always late. No need for a public-service announcement.”

After another tug on her arm from Brody, she says, “I’m sorry, I’d better get this kid to bed. It was so good to meet you, Addison.”

“You too.”

“And thanks for indulging me. See, now I feel like I know who you are.” And with that she leaves.

I’m standing a little in front of Trevor, my back to him. The silence stretches out, and I try to think of something to say to dispel it.
Thank you
seems like too little … or maybe too much, since he couldn’t possibly understand how much I needed to hear what he just said. How much I needed to know that even without my ability, I am someone worth knowing. That every little and ridiculous quality I exhibit makes me who I am.

“And right now,” he says, “you’re dying because no one is saying anything.”

I bite my lip. I will not cry over this. “I’d better get going too.” I walk toward the door as fast as I can.

“Addie. Stay.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called me Addie, and I know I’m reading way more into it than I should. I stop by the door, hand gripping the frame for support. “You’re confused. You need time to think.”

He laughs a little. “What am I confused about?”

“You just broke up with your girlfriend.”

“I broke up with Stephanie over a month ago. She finally got it tonight.”

I don’t know what to say.

“I’m starting a new comic. With all the reading you do, I thought you could help me with the writing.” He opens his top drawer and pulls out a sketchbook.

I take a deep breath. I am in perfect control. “Really? What’s it about?”

He nods me over with his head, and I go to his side. He starts with the character’s eyes and by the time he moves to her hair, a mess of blond curls, I realize he’s drawing me. “Superheroes. You can finally have those powers you want. As long as you don’t kill me with them.”