Powers (14 page)

“Cold?” Conrad asks.

“No.”

Conrad sighs, crouches down and helps me get my skates off and my boots on. He holds out his hand, pulls me to my feet. “Friends?”

“I wouldn't want you for an enemy,” I say.

He grins, throws a few fake punches my way.

As we walk back up to my car, Conrad asks a question. “Can you read anyone's mind? Or only Gwen's?”

“You really want to know?”

He cranks his neck first one way and then the other. “Not really.”

“Good,” I say.

“I have nothing to hide, anyway,” he says.

“Except being an artist.”

“Yeah. There's that.”

“I don't get it. What's the big deal?”

He gives me a long look. “Artist guy on the school hockey team?”

“So? Why not?”

“Wrong image.” He shrugs.

“So, why'd you show Joanne?” I'm not making polite conversation. I want to know.

“Art is personal, eh? It's like stripping naked. Like baring your soul. Joanne kept saying I didn't open up to her. Didn't show her who I am.” He shrugs again. “So I showed her.”

“But now everyone knows, right?” I ask. “Your hockey friends and everyone?”

“It was worth the risk,” he says. “I was going to lose Joanne.
To you.
So I had to tell her.”

“So you owe me one, right?” I say.

“Nah. Don't push your luck.”

“You know, you're pretty smart for a dumb jock,” I say.

“Yeah. You're okay, too, Bambi.”

He bangs the hood of my car in good-bye.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 5

Gwen

I watched as Melissa approached Adrian at his locker. That figured. Word was that Stone had broken up with her again. Seems she'd slept with another guy. Wow. Big surprise.

She basically threw herself at Adrian. Nuzzled up close, wrapped her arms around him. After a second's hesitation, he returned the embrace.

Like seeks like. I left for the newspaper, knowing how it would end. When I arrived, Doug called me into his office.

“Great job on the fire, kiddo.”

“Thanks.”

“I've been thinking. I usually hire a student for a summer internship. But you show a lot of promise. Good photos, professional reporting. Would you be interested?”

“I'd love it!” I can barely stay in my chair, I'm so excited.

Doug reached across his desk to shake hands. “You earned it, kiddo. We'll work out the details later, eh?”

Yes!

Adrian

Melissa comes up to my locker after school. A month ago, I would have been all over her. Things change.

“Thank you for defending me the other day.” Her eyes well up and drip. She rubs them and smears mascara all over. She looks like a kid trying to be an adult.

“No problem,” I say.

Her tears turn to sobs. She presses up against me and puts her arms around me. I read her mind. She needs a hug. It's not so much to ask. I put my arms around her.

Her crying stops after a while. She sniffles, only it comes out loud, like a horse snorting. It takes all my control not to smile.

“Um, look, that night at your house…” she says.

I put a finger on her lips. “It'll be our little secret. You won't tell and I won't tell.”

“I don't know why I do that,” she says. “I'm such a … such a—”

“Melissa. Look at me. Don't accept the label, okay? Don't let other people tell you who you are.”

She smiles. “You're one of the good guys, Adrian.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I like to think of myself that way.”

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6

Gwen

I was eating alone. I took my bookmark out of
Crime and Punishment
and picked up where I had left off.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Melissa?
What did she want?

“Free country.” I stuffed my face back into the book, pointedly ignoring her.

She sat down beside me. From the corner of my eye, I could see her fiddling with a tissue, ripping it up into tiny pieces.

“I know you saw me with Adrian yesterday—”

“Like I said, free country.”

“It wasn't what it looked like. We aren't together or anything. I mean, we went out on a date, but nothing happened.”

I kept my eyes on my book, but I was listening.

“And, like, yesterday, I was thanking him—”

“I'll say you were.”

“For standing up for me.”

I looked up from my book to see tears in Melissa's eyes.

“I had a fight with Stone. Adrian stepped in.”

“What a hero,” I said.

“Gwen, what happened between you two? I mean, he was bringing you flowers and you guys spent every minute together and then it was suddenly over.”

I stared at her. She really thought I'd confide in her?

“I know you don't like me,” Melissa went on, “but there's something I need to say.”

“I'm not stopping you.”

“Back in grade eight, when Stone stood you up for the graduation dance, it wasn't because Joanne paid him.”

“I know that.”

“I paid him. But not to ask you out.”

“I don't get it.”

“Stone asked you to the dance on his own. I paid him fifty bucks to
not
go.”

“You expect me to believe that? Stone wouldn't have asked me out. I was fat, with braces and glasses. And zits.”

“We all had braces and zits,” Melissa said with a wry expression. “And no one wore contacts in grade eight.”

“But I
was
fat.”

“You were also funny and smart. Stone had a thing for you. Still does. Ever notice the way he looks at you?”

“Look, I wouldn't date Stone if he were the last man on the planet.”

“That's funny,” she said. “He's all I ever wanted.”

Her voice was so sad. Had I misjudged her? Did she actually have a heart?

“Anyway, I wanted you to know.” Melissa paused, ripped up the tissue into even smaller pieces. “And to say I'm sorry. Better late than never, eh?”

She sniffled, looked at her useless tissue, and then got up.

“Melissa?”

She turned back.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Um, I notice you're sitting alone again, now that you broke up with Adrian.…”

I was about to say we were never together, but I stopped myself.

“Uh, anyway, like, would you like to sit with us?”

Now was my chance. Put her down, humiliate her, say something scathingly sarcastic. But I remembered what it had been like to be on the receiving end of rejection.

“Okay,” I said.

Adrian

I walk into the cafeteria and do a double take. Gwen, sitting with Melissa and her friends? I thought she hated Melissa.

I buy two lunches, one for me, one for Gwen. I deliver hers. She pretends I'm not there, but she accepts the offering. As I walk away, I hear Melissa ask, “What's with that, anyway?”

“Long story,” says Gwen.

I join Conrad and the guys.

“What's going on over there?” Conrad asks.

“No idea. Not a mind reader,” I reply.

He grins at me, says nothing.

I tune out the conversation around me and concentrate on reading Gwen's thoughts. She's too busy talking to Melissa to block me.

Melissa is saying to her, “Yeah, anything you want. You only have to go two or three times a week. Want to come with me next time?”

She's talking about kickboxing. Great. As if Gwen isn't lethal enough already.

“So, when are you going to patch it up?” Conrad asks me, looking over at Gwen.

“She won't listen,” I said.

“Never figured you for a coward,” Conrad says.

“You don't know her.”

“You're going to lose her, man.”

He's right. She's sitting there, talking to Melissa, laughing, her face animated. She looks incredible—long-sleeved green sweater, jeans, some kind of glossy stuff on her lips. She adjusts her glasses and tucks her hair behind her ears.

“Wish me luck,” I say to Conrad.

He gives me a two-thumbs-up gesture. “Go get her, Bambi.”

And
that's
supposed to boost my confidence?

My throat goes dry as I walk over. When I get there, I take a sip of water from Gwen's bottle. I figured I'm entitled. I bought it for her.

“Gwen, could we talk?”

“About what?”

“Can I sit down?”

“No.” She likes the way the word feels. She's on top and she knows it.

“Please?”

“Are you begging?”

That's it. I'm leaving. Then I remember why I came.

“Yes. I'm begging you. Want me down on my knees?”

I'd love to see that,
she thinks.

So that's what I do. I go down on one knee, right there in the cafeteria. Melissa's mouth drops open. Her friends stare at me.

From across the cafeteria, someone yells, “Yay, Adrian!” Another person shouts, “Whoohoo, Gwen!”

My face is on fire and my knee hurts. The moment stretches on forever.

“Oh, get up already,” she says.

I grab onto the edge of the table and pull myself up. Melissa and her friends clap. Three or four other tables join in.

I'm dying, but Gwen is having a great time. Bring Adrian to his knees. Humiliate him in public. But that's okay. If she wants me humble, I'll be humble. Anything she wants.

Gwen

We got our coats and went outside. It was probably the coldest day of the winter.

“Let's sit in my car.” He led the way to his red Mustang. The front end was crumpled.

Serves you right,
I thought.

By the sudden tightening of his jaw, I saw he caught my thoughts.

He walked around and opened my door first. He was the same old Adrian, playing the role, being chivalrous.

I slid into a contoured bucket seat. The leather felt soft and supple, as if he used leather conditioner. Well, duh. Of course he did.

He turned over the engine and played with the stick shift, running it through the gears. A dark shadow of stubble was the only color on his face. The only sound was the car heater, hissing out warm air. The windshield defrosted before either of us spoke.

“What's that?” he asked, pointing to the blue sky outside. “Snow? There's no clouds.”

“Diamond dust,” I said. “The moisture in the upper atmosphere freezes as ice crystals. They're fragile. Form only when conditions are just right, often melt before they hit the ground.”

He nodded. The silence turned loud.

“Listen,” he finally said, “Conrad told me what you told Joanne. About the night of the fire; about the deer. I'd appreciate the chance to explain.”

“Go ahead,” I said. “No one's stopping you.”

Adrian

She's got the upper hand. Again.

My fingers itch for a cigarette. I play with the gearshift, enjoying the control I have over its movement. It's about the only control I seem to have left.

“The deer was an accident,” I tell her. “I didn't see it until it was too late.”

“So you finished it off?” she accuses.

“Give me a chance, will you?”

“I'm sorry. Please
do
continue,” she says with exaggerated politeness.

Why does she keep pushing me to the edge? I slam my hand on the steering wheel, sounding the horn. She jumps.

“Can't you turn it off? Even for one second?” I say.

“What about the night that woman died in the fire?” she asks, as if I hadn't spoken.

“
That woman
had a name. Celina. But, yeah. It happened again.”

“And you can't wait for your next fix,” she says.

She sees right through me. She's right. I'm addicted. I love the rush, whether it comes from Celina or a dying deer. Or Gwen.

“This is pointless,” I say, yanking my keys out of the ignition.

The motion draws her attention. She stares at my key ring.

At the skull.

Was he there? At the first fire? Is that some kind of souvenir?

“No, it's not like that—” I start to say. Then I see the look in Gwen's eyes. The same look as that night at my house. The same look at the fire. The same as the night I hit the deer.

“Get out.” My voice shakes.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out. Before I say something I'll regret.”

“Is that another threat?” she sneers.

“Get out!” I'm
this
close to losing it. I reach across her to open the door. A sizzle of energy enters me as my arm brushes against her.

She stomps out, slams the door.

I've had another vision,
she sends them to me.

A house. Purple house with yellow shutters. Same house we pass by every day on our way to school. Probably not another house like it in the world.

It's on fire.

Two people stumble out the front door, each carrying a child. But a third child is trapped inside. I see myself, running into the burning house.

I roll down my window. “No way. Find yourself another hero.”

I don't need you,
she thinks at me.

“What are you going to do?” I yell at her retreating back. “Take photos?”

Without looking back, she gives me the finger.

Another vision hits her.

Camera in her hands, she sneaks up to the sliding glass doors at the back of the house. Through the glass, she takes shot after shot of the arsonist as he pours gasoline around the perimeter of the room and splashes it onto the walls. In the corner farthest from the doors, he places newspapers and rags, soaks them in gas.