Memories
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
"You didn't, for instance, think it might be your fault?"
I flinched as my grandmother gave me her patented glare, saved for when she thinks we're being particularly unreasonable. It wasn't my fault, not that time. There had been occasions when I was the one that made one of my visions come true, because I had seen it and thought it was inevitable. But it kind of hurt that she automatically assumed I was at fault.
"Arthur, go get the ice. Her forehead's burning up," Grandma said.
I glanced over at the counter, where she put down a tray of ice when she saw us coming in. I reached a hand out, and it started shaking before it lifted into the air.
Grandma slapped my hand. "No powers. You're getting too dependent," she said.
Like she was one to talk. I had come in to see her lifting the couch right off the floor so she could vacuum under it. For trying to keep it a secret from Gwen until she had to know, she wasn't very discreet about it. Our grandmother had strength, not mind powers. She couldn't even pass it off as some kind of bizarre coincidence that had nothing to do with her.
"Grandma?" I heard Gwen say as I went into the kitchen to get the ice by hand. "How did I get here?"
I didn't want to listen to what excuse our grandmother would give her. Grandma went between being ashamed of our powers and encouraging of them. Then again, that was part of the reason I came back. Someone needed to be there for Gwen consistently.
Gwen was all I had left after our parents died. As much as I loved my grandmother, she wasn't someone I liked to go to for comfort. Especially since she knew her own strength and still squeezed me almost hard enough to break my ribs when she hugged me.
When I got back into the living room, Grandma was gone. It was a consequence of not listening to her a lot; she tended to go off on missions and I had no idea where she went.
"Arthur," Gwen said. She opened her eyes when she felt me put the bag of ice on her forehead. "…Ashley has a crush on you. Did you know that?"
I moved my hand to her cheek. It was red, and producing heat. This was why I didn't like nulling powers. The body saw the powers as natural, and preventing it could make the body rebel. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Gwen didn't know what was going on.
"Yeah, I did," I said. Or had an idea, anyway. "But she's my baby sister's best friend. Why would I want to go out with her?"
Gwen batted my hand away and sat up. "I'm not a baby anymore, Arthur. I don't need you to take care of me all the time."
Her cheeks were losing the red tint, which meant the effect was wearing off. I snapped my hand away from her. If she was still taking memories on accident, I didn't want to be touching her. There were… a few things I didn't want her seeing.
"Where'd Grandma go?" I stood up, giving Gwen her space.
"She said she'd go out and get Chinese for supper. Said it… was my special day. Whatever that means," she said.
Of course Grandma would make this harder than it had to be. I was willing to bet she wasn't going to say anything else about it, and then I would have to be the one to tell her about her powers even though I barely knew about them myself.
I'm eighteen and about to graduate high school. Shouldn't I be spending my time with my friends and trying to pick up girls?
Well uh… no, to that last part.
Gwen had been staring up at me this entire time, and I managed to put a smile back on my face. I leaned down and patted her on the top of the head. "I'll tell you later. I promise."
***
"Well, I was supposed to meet Ashley but there was the whole… fainting thing at the mall so we're supposed to go out another day. I still need a dress…"
I didn't listen to the rest of what Gwen was telling Grandma as they sat together at the table for supper. She was back to her normal self, like nothing had happened, and even I had my limits when it came to listening to her teenage girl gossip. I had been done eating for a long time, so by all means I could've just gone upstairs. Usually I'd listen to music and get my homework done. But I wanted to hear what Grandma had to say to Gwen while she thought I wasn't listening.
Lucky me. That meant I got to listen to this for half an hour before finally giving up. I had to give my grandmother a little credit: she had a higher tolerance for gossip than I did.
Well, that and she was willing to take us in when we were both emotional wrecks.
"I'm going out for a walk!" I called. Grandma nodded but didn't say anything. Whether she had actually heard what I had said or not was up for debate.
I still had Tristan's number in my phone. I had just never gotten around to deleting it, I supposed…
My room was basically bare. It hadn't taken long to pack; I had left a good amount of my things home even though there had been talk of transferring me to Tristan's school. Even before, I didn't want to leave my sister for too long.
Speaking of Tristan, though, he had appeared in my open bedroom doorway while I was zipping my suitcase. In the month I had stayed with Katherine Morgan, it had become obvious that her nephew, Tristan, used his inhuman speed to his advantage. I lost count how many times he had appeared out of nowhere, that warm smile on his face. That smile, Katherine had boasted when I first met him, could make anyone feel better.
I had to admit, with the prospect of my father's funeral, the search for my missing mother and having to move in with my grouchy, widowed grandmother, that smile still got to me.
"You sure you want to go?" Tristan said, his eyes following me as I placed my bags out in the hall.
I stood up straight, my blue eyes meeting his own as he reached out and brushed the wrinkles from my shirt. I looked at his hand as it lingered there on my hip. "I'm sure," I said. "Gwen doesn't have her powers, Tristan. Not yet. As much as I'd love to stay here with her, I've seen the… stigma, that some people give your aunt. Gwen doesn't need to see that."
"It's not that bad," Tristan said. He moved his hand around my waist, pulling me closer. He was taller than me, if only slightly, so he had to look down to meet me in the eye.
"I'll keep in contact." I turned my head in time for his lips to land on my cheek instead of my own lips. He turned my head, though, and kissed me softly. Considering it might have been our last one, I didn't bother protesting.
"Any time," he said, barely breaking the kiss. "Just call me, okay? If you have problems. You know I can come and see you any time."
I felt a hand on my shoulder, a single finger brushing the bare skin where my shirt collar didn't cover. I put my phone away and turned to see Gwen. Her red hair was in a ponytail, and her designer, spaghetti-strapped top and cut off jeans had been replaced with sweats unflattering to her shape and about two shades louder than her hair.
Her eyes were distant as she leaned there, her hand staying on my shoulder. A single piece of hair fell into her eyes, and that seemed to finally snap her out of it.
"Arthur?" she said. I stood up, towering over her by a good six inches. This didn't seem to intimidate her. "I thought maybe we could go for a run."
Gwen wasn't a runner, but she had inherited her long, gangly limbs from our Irish mother. She was, or maybe had been, a delicate woman, both mentally and physically, but she was tall. She needed at least that much credit. Given that Gwen was a lot less awkward with her long legs than one would expect, she kept up with me during jogs pretty well.
"Sure, Gwennie. Just let me change."
I hadn't talked to Tristan once since leaving his aunt's place, but upon going back to school for my junior year, I tried out for cross-country and then track. The coaches said I was a natural. I even placed first in track events a few times. Grandma liked to place the plaques on the mantle in the living room, as if having a talent not associated with my powers validated her somehow. But all I cared about was that when I ran, I felt closer to Tristan.
Or at least, less guilty for not calling for two years.
Grandma was in the kitchen, sitting at the table just drinking tea. Usually Gwen and I took turns helping her wash dishes, but we always ate Chinese straight out of the disposable take-out boxes.
I stepped in, then looked out the window over the sink. I could see Gwen out on the lawn, stretching her legs for our jog. "You didn't tell her, did you?"
Grandma's tea cup was mostly fine, but it tipped onto the table as it fell, the handle crushed in her hand. "Arthur, be a dear and get some paper towels," she said.
After eighteen years, or even two years, you'd think I would know better.
"You didn't, for instance, think it might be your fault?"
I flinched as my grandmother gave me her patented glare, saved for when she thinks we're being particularly unreasonable. It wasn't my fault, not that time. There had been occasions when I was the one that made one of my visions come true, because I had seen it and thought it was inevitable. But it kind of hurt that she automatically assumed I was at fault.
"Arthur, go get the ice. Her forehead's burning up," Grandma said.
I glanced over at the counter, where she put down a tray of ice when she saw us coming in. I reached a hand out, and it started shaking before it lifted into the air.
Grandma slapped my hand. "No powers. You're getting too dependent," she said.
Like she was one to talk. I had come in to see her lifting the couch right off the floor so she could vacuum under it. For trying to keep it a secret from Gwen until she had to know, she wasn't very discreet about it. Our grandmother had strength, not mind powers. She couldn't even pass it off as some kind of bizarre coincidence that had nothing to do with her.
"Grandma?" I heard Gwen say as I went into the kitchen to get the ice by hand. "How did I get here?"
I didn't want to listen to what excuse our grandmother would give her. Grandma went between being ashamed of our powers and encouraging of them. Then again, that was part of the reason I came back. Someone needed to be there for Gwen consistently.
Gwen was all I had left after our parents died. As much as I loved my grandmother, she wasn't someone I liked to go to for comfort. Especially since she knew her own strength and still squeezed me almost hard enough to break my ribs when she hugged me.
When I got back into the living room, Grandma was gone. It was a consequence of not listening to her a lot; she tended to go off on missions and I had no idea where she went.
"Arthur," Gwen said. She opened her eyes when she felt me put the bag of ice on her forehead. "…Ashley has a crush on you. Did you know that?"
I moved my hand to her cheek. It was red, and producing heat. This was why I didn't like nulling powers. The body saw the powers as natural, and preventing it could make the body rebel. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Gwen didn't know what was going on.
"Yeah, I did," I said. Or had an idea, anyway. "But she's my baby sister's best friend. Why would I want to go out with her?"
Gwen batted my hand away and sat up. "I'm not a baby anymore, Arthur. I don't need you to take care of me all the time."
Her cheeks were losing the red tint, which meant the effect was wearing off. I snapped my hand away from her. If she was still taking memories on accident, I didn't want to be touching her. There were… a few things I didn't want her seeing.
"Where'd Grandma go?" I stood up, giving Gwen her space.
"She said she'd go out and get Chinese for supper. Said it… was my special day. Whatever that means," she said.
Of course Grandma would make this harder than it had to be. I was willing to bet she wasn't going to say anything else about it, and then I would have to be the one to tell her about her powers even though I barely knew about them myself.
I'm eighteen and about to graduate high school. Shouldn't I be spending my time with my friends and trying to pick up girls?
Well uh… no, to that last part.
Gwen had been staring up at me this entire time, and I managed to put a smile back on my face. I leaned down and patted her on the top of the head. "I'll tell you later. I promise."
***
"Well, I was supposed to meet Ashley but there was the whole… fainting thing at the mall so we're supposed to go out another day. I still need a dress…"
I didn't listen to the rest of what Gwen was telling Grandma as they sat together at the table for supper. She was back to her normal self, like nothing had happened, and even I had my limits when it came to listening to her teenage girl gossip. I had been done eating for a long time, so by all means I could've just gone upstairs. Usually I'd listen to music and get my homework done. But I wanted to hear what Grandma had to say to Gwen while she thought I wasn't listening.
Lucky me. That meant I got to listen to this for half an hour before finally giving up. I had to give my grandmother a little credit: she had a higher tolerance for gossip than I did.
Well, that and she was willing to take us in when we were both emotional wrecks.
"I'm going out for a walk!" I called. Grandma nodded but didn't say anything. Whether she had actually heard what I had said or not was up for debate.
I still had Tristan's number in my phone. I had just never gotten around to deleting it, I supposed…
My room was basically bare. It hadn't taken long to pack; I had left a good amount of my things home even though there had been talk of transferring me to Tristan's school. Even before, I didn't want to leave my sister for too long.
Speaking of Tristan, though, he had appeared in my open bedroom doorway while I was zipping my suitcase. In the month I had stayed with Katherine Morgan, it had become obvious that her nephew, Tristan, used his inhuman speed to his advantage. I lost count how many times he had appeared out of nowhere, that warm smile on his face. That smile, Katherine had boasted when I first met him, could make anyone feel better.
I had to admit, with the prospect of my father's funeral, the search for my missing mother and having to move in with my grouchy, widowed grandmother, that smile still got to me.
"You sure you want to go?" Tristan said, his eyes following me as I placed my bags out in the hall.
I stood up straight, my blue eyes meeting his own as he reached out and brushed the wrinkles from my shirt. I looked at his hand as it lingered there on my hip. "I'm sure," I said. "Gwen doesn't have her powers, Tristan. Not yet. As much as I'd love to stay here with her, I've seen the… stigma, that some people give your aunt. Gwen doesn't need to see that."
"It's not that bad," Tristan said. He moved his hand around my waist, pulling me closer. He was taller than me, if only slightly, so he had to look down to meet me in the eye.
"I'll keep in contact." I turned my head in time for his lips to land on my cheek instead of my own lips. He turned my head, though, and kissed me softly. Considering it might have been our last one, I didn't bother protesting.
"Any time," he said, barely breaking the kiss. "Just call me, okay? If you have problems. You know I can come and see you any time."
I felt a hand on my shoulder, a single finger brushing the bare skin where my shirt collar didn't cover. I put my phone away and turned to see Gwen. Her red hair was in a ponytail, and her designer, spaghetti-strapped top and cut off jeans had been replaced with sweats unflattering to her shape and about two shades louder than her hair.
Her eyes were distant as she leaned there, her hand staying on my shoulder. A single piece of hair fell into her eyes, and that seemed to finally snap her out of it.
"Arthur?" she said. I stood up, towering over her by a good six inches. This didn't seem to intimidate her. "I thought maybe we could go for a run."
Gwen wasn't a runner, but she had inherited her long, gangly limbs from our Irish mother. She was, or maybe had been, a delicate woman, both mentally and physically, but she was tall. She needed at least that much credit. Given that Gwen was a lot less awkward with her long legs than one would expect, she kept up with me during jogs pretty well.
"Sure, Gwennie. Just let me change."
I hadn't talked to Tristan once since leaving his aunt's place, but upon going back to school for my junior year, I tried out for cross-country and then track. The coaches said I was a natural. I even placed first in track events a few times. Grandma liked to place the plaques on the mantle in the living room, as if having a talent not associated with my powers validated her somehow. But all I cared about was that when I ran, I felt closer to Tristan.
Or at least, less guilty for not calling for two years.
Grandma was in the kitchen, sitting at the table just drinking tea. Usually Gwen and I took turns helping her wash dishes, but we always ate Chinese straight out of the disposable take-out boxes.
I stepped in, then looked out the window over the sink. I could see Gwen out on the lawn, stretching her legs for our jog. "You didn't tell her, did you?"
Grandma's tea cup was mostly fine, but it tipped onto the table as it fell, the handle crushed in her hand. "Arthur, be a dear and get some paper towels," she said.
After eighteen years, or even two years, you'd think I would know better.