CHAPTER 12
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.