ab•NOR•Mal: adj. out of the ordinary, like zombies and certain creepy boys
Trevor opens the passenger-side door for me and I climb in. When he’s in his own seat, pulling away from the curb, I say, “Sorry, my dad is kind of overprotective.” My dad just treated Trevor like he was the main suspect in a crime investigation, and I know he used his ability.
“No big deal. He’s never met me.”
“Yeah, I tried to tell him there’d be a bunch of people he’s never met before, but that didn’t seem to make a difference.”
He smiles. “I don’t understand why.”
“I know, right?”
“He has an intense stare.”
“He’s really good at telling if someone’s lying or not.”
“Oh yeah?”
It’s the first time since I’ve been here that I wish I could tell someone about the psychologically advanced. “Freakishly good.”
“I’m glad I passed the test.”
He not only passed but even got my dad to smile and give me the I’m-impressed eyebrow raise. “Me too.” I glance at my cell phone again.
He nods toward my phone. “You waiting for a phone call?”
“No. Yes. Sort of.” I haven’t heard from Laila in a couple days. It isn’t too weird. We don’t speak every day, but she seemed so sad last time we talked, and she didn’t answer her phone earlier.
“Sort of?”
“My best friend from home.”
“Where is home?”
I freeze, still not comfortable with the lie. I curse myself for straying from the Compound-appointed backstory. At least that would’ve been partly true. What I really want to say is, Well, you see, there’s this walled city in Southeast Texas. If you ever did happen upon it, which is highly unlikely, it would just look like a mountain range. But that’s where I lived, along with thousands of other gifted people.
“California. Uh, the southern part.” I unzip the small inside pocket of my purse, pull out a metal container, and pop an Altoids in my mouth. It doesn’t help get rid of the bitter taste of lies.
“Cool.”
“What about you? Have you lived in Dallas your whole life?”
“Yup.” He reaches for the radio, but then stops. “Are you a music or a no-music kind of girl?”
“It just depends on the situation.”
“For this situation?”
“Yes, music. It will hide any awkward silences.”
“You already have me failing at conversation?” He drops his hand, leaving the radio off.
“Well, you just seem like the perfectly-okay-with-silence type. I’m the oh-crap-why-can’t-I-think-of-anything-to-say? type.”
He laughs. “No worries. The people we’re hanging out with tonight have no problem filling the silence.”
“Who are we hanging out with tonight?” I shift in my seat, and my foot crunches a piece of paper on the floorboard.
“Oh, sorry.” He grabs it and throws it behind his seat, where it joins a floor full of others. My eyes linger on the mess. So Trevor isn’t exactly the tidiest guy in the world. Not everyone needs a perfectly organized environment to function, I hear Laila say in my head. I force my attention back to Trevor as he says, “We’re meeting the guys you met at the football game and some girls you’ve probably met at school.”
“I haven’t met anyone at school.”
“Maybe you should join the land of the living at lunch.”
“Point taken.” And the exact point taken is that he wants me to hang out with him and his friends at lunch. Awesome. No more roaming the library in Loner Loserdom.
After a few minutes of silence, I turn on the radio. He laughs.
When we arrive at the theater, his friends are already there, hanging out by a large fountain outside. After buying tickets, we join them. He introduces everyone, and I listen so I can match some of the names I already know with their faces. They all wave and say hi, then go back to their conversation. It seems to be about how much money Rowan gathered when he jumped in the fountain last week.
“Five bucks,” Rowan says, as if that amount made it totally worth the effort. I remember that Rowan was the one who tried to get me to go to the party after the football game. Without paint and the hot-pink wig, his skin is a creamy brown and his hair is black and shoulder length. He’s cute, if you’re into pretty boys.
A girl weaves her way through the group and arrives in front of Trevor, then gives him a hug. “Hey, Stephanie,” he says, hugging her back. Her eyes look at me and say, Back off, he’s mine, but her mouth says, “Good to meet you, Addison. We have math together.”
“Yeah, I recognize you.” She’s tall, with ridiculously long legs, dark hair, and chocolate eyes. She kind of looks like Trevor, except his lashes are longer. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, not a single strand out of place, and her outfit looks like it went straight from a magazine to her body. I take a small step away from Trevor to let her know we just came as friends. Though I’m a little surprised Trevor didn’t mention her, I’m not here to steal anyone’s boyfriend.
Rowan uses the newly created space to slip between Trevor and me. “Important question,” he says, looking at me. “Do you scream at scary movies?”
“I’m more of an eye coverer,” I say.
“Awesome. I call a seat next to Addison!” he announces, throwing his arm around my neck. Not a big fan of personal-space invasion—especially by strangers—I immediately twist out of his hold, playing it off with a laugh. It doesn’t seem to faze him.
“I just barely got my hearing back from the last movie we went to.” He rubs his ear and glares at Stephanie.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. I don’t scream that loud.”
Several people surrounding the fountain shout out their confirmations of Stephanie’s screaming abilities. Her scowl quiets the group.
“See,” Rowan says. “I’m not alone.” As if sensing Stephanie is about to implode, he changes the subject. “So, Trevor.”
“Yeah?”
“I found another one.”
Trevor sighs. “Give it a rest, Rowan. It’s over. Come on, let’s get our seats.”
As we walk, Rowan still between Trevor and me, he says, “Just hear me out. His name is Neal Summers. He blew out his knee at the beginning of this season.”
“Rowan, it’s football; people get hurt. Lots of people. There’s no connection.”
I have no idea what Rowan is referring to, and it doesn’t seem like Trevor feels like explaining—not even after I give him the yes-I’m-curious head tilt. So I just work on maintaining a comfortable distance between Rowan and me. Despite my efforts, he still manages to brush against my shoulder several times.
The boys pause at the door, and as I look over my shoulder at them, confused, I remember why, too late. My face meets the glass with a thud. “Ouch.” I step back, rubbing my cheek. This place is so confusing. Why are some of their doors automatic and some not?
“Addie, door handle. Door handle, Addie,” Rowan says, opening the door for me. “You two should get to know each other.”
“Funny,” I mumble.
“You okay?” Trevor asks.
“Fine.”
Inside, Rowan holds true to his word and sits next to me. Stephanie somehow ends up on my other side, separating Trevor and me by a seat. I really want to sit next to Trevor but can’t think of a good excuse to seat hop.
The lights lower.
“Do you want some popcorn?” Rowan asks, putting his hand on my forearm. I’m sure he did it just to get my attention, but my reflexes are faster than that thought, and I yank my arm out from under his, bumping the popcorn he’s holding. It spills all over.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
He laughs. “It’s okay. You’re nice and jumpy. You’re going to be more fun to watch this movie with than I thought.”
“Is it buttered?” I ask. “I hope I didn’t ruin your clothes.” Considering Rowan is dressed nicer than I am, I really do hope his jeans aren’t splotched with grease stains.
“Nah, they’re fine.” He stands and shakes himself off, then sits back down.
I fold my arms. “I promise to keep my out-of-control limbs to myself for the rest of the night.”
“No, no, no. It’s okay. Here, have the armrest.” He pulls one of my hands over to the armrest and places it there, patting it twice as if it’s some sort of pet he has asked to stay put. Then, much to my relief, he passes the popcorn down the aisle to Lisa and places his own hands on his knees.
I know why I’m jumpy. It’s that it’s dark, and the last time I was in the dark sitting next to a guy, it didn’t end well. It wasn’t just that Bobby got handsy and rough, although that was bad, it was that I froze. It took me several minutes to defend myself. And then several more to free myself. To be able to push him away and walk out of his house. And that reaction—my inability to react—scared me more than anything. Even though seconds later I snapped out of the Search, it still felt so real.
Stephanie looks over, and in a loud voice says, “Could you two get to know each other after the movie? I’m trying to watch here.”
I look at the screen, my face hot. The movie hasn’t started. I want to tell her to chill, that it’s just the previews, but then Rowan might think I actually want to get to know him and that I’m mad at Stephanie for interrupting. So I just say, “Sorry, popcorn dilemma.”
Trevor leans forward and says, “Yes, Addison, pay attention. There’ll be a zombie-hunting quiz after the movie.” He smiles, then leans back.
Stephanie scowls, but I don’t care; those two sentences make me feel infinitely better. That is, until halfway through the movie when Rowan’s arm decides it wants to share the armrest with mine. This time I resist the urge to jerk away. Nothing is happening. It’s just an armrest. People share them all the time. I once shared one with a hairy-armed old man, and I managed that just fine. I count to ten and then move my arm.
The guy is undeterred though, and he leans over me to tell Stephanie, “I haven’t heard any screaming yet.”
“That’s because this movie is lame.”
“Claustrophobic,” I say.
Rowan laughs and pulls back. I lean a little closer to Stephanie, who is leaning really close to Trevor.
I put all my energy into watching the movie, which so far hasn’t been too gruesome.
One of my friends at the Compound has a photographic memory. Everything she ever sees, reads, or hears, she remembers forever in perfect detail. I used to be so jealous of that ability when I took tests. I begin to realize that her ability might not be as great as I once thought. She probably has to be really careful about everything she lets enter her mind. And what about her Bobby-like experiences? Does she remember them perfectly forever?
The graphic image of a boy getting his head bit off by a one-armed zombie makes me cringe away from the screen. Next to me, Stephanie screams and grabs onto Trevor’s arm, burying her face in his shoulder.
On my opposite side, Rowan chuckles and then pets my shoulder. “It’s okay, Addison, it’s over now.”
I stand abruptly and climb my way past Rowan and down the aisle, not looking back until I make it into the bathroom. I shut myself in the nearest stall so I can hear if anyone comes in and dig out my phone from my pocket. Praying that Laila will be home this time, I dial her number. By the third ring, I can hardly breathe.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hi,” I say in relief. “You’re there. Where have you been?”
“You’re not the only one who had to get a new social life.”
The words sting, even though I know she doesn’t mean for them to. Of course she has to get new friends. It’s not like I’m sitting at home waiting on her phone call. I am out, trying to have some sort of life without my best friend. Just like she is.
“So, what’s wrong?” she asks.
“I thought we could be friends, but I don’t think he likes me at all and he probably brought me here as a favor for his really creepy friend and I hate Bobby Baker,” I say, my words tumbling over one another.
“What? Slow down. Who are we talking about? Bobby?”
I try to breathe deep, but it feels like the air can’t get through the emotions wedged in my chest. “No. I wish you could come pick me up.”
“Where are you?”
“At the movies.” I sit on the back of the toilet and rest my feet on the seat.
“With who?”
“I came with Trevor, but like I said, I think he brought me here as a favor for his friend Rowan, who’s like an overzealous Chihuahua.”
“Aw, Chihuahuas are cute.”
“Okay, fine then, a hairless cat that wants you to pet it so it rubs along your leg all night.”
“Ew.”
“Exactly.”
“What makes you think he’s setting you up with his friend?”
A long section of toilet paper is clinging by a corner to the roll. I kick it and watch it slide to the ground. “Well, the first time I met Rowan he was really adamant about me going to this party. So now I’m thinking maybe Rowan said something to Trevor about me. Trevor probably told Rowan he’d get me to come on a group date or something.”
“You were right. Trevor is my replacement. I would totally do something like that.”
“Set me up with a creepy guy?”
“No, Trevor doesn’t think Rowan is a creep. What I mean is, if a guy I thought was cool came up to me and told me he liked you, I would definitely make it my goal to get the two of you in the same place to see if you liked him too. It’s my job as your best friend. So see, Trevor thinks you’re cool.”
“Really?”
“Yes, for sure.”
I’m finally able to take a deep breath. She’s right. Trevor has no idea how Rowan makes me feel.
“Hey, I have something that will cheer you up,” she says.
“What?”
“I was looking at the football schedule, and in two weeks, the Compound plays Carter High. I’m going to go so I can see you.”
“Really?” I almost slip off the back of the toilet in my excitement. “That makes me so happy. I didn’t realize they played schools so far away.”
“That’s because you don’t follow football.”
“You only follow it because of the hot guys.”
She gasps in faux offense. “So untrue … sort of. Anyway, you aren’t that far away. Your school is in our league because they have Containment Committee members stationed there to supervise and prevent leaks. It’s all carefully calculated, my pet. But you’re missing the point. The point is that our football team is playing your football team.”
“You’re right. I am missing that amazing point. I’m excited. You have to come. You can stay with me, make a weekend out of it.”
“I think I will. Now put your game face on until you get home. Don’t let that hairless cat see you upset.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and exit the bathroom.
Trevor is waiting in the hall, a concerned look on his face. “You okay?”
I’m surprised by how happy I feel that he’s standing there. “I’m fine. Just got a little nauseous.”
He lowers his brows. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if you can stomach zombie-hunting after all.”
It’s your friend I can’t stomach, almost slips out of my mouth. I’m able to stop the thought before it becomes words. “I think I can handle it.” I grab his arm and pull him back toward the theater.