Talent Page 4

  Not for the first time, Libby wondered if her headaches were directly related to her parents’ relationship issues; they had been quiet yesterday, her father agitated with it. Her mother had busied herself in the kitchen with a three course dinner that none of them wanted. Evidently their evening out had not gone well.

  By late afternoon her headache was a dull throbbing that was impossible to ignore. She hadn’t joined the others for lunch, instead choosing the relative quiet of the library.

  Detouring to her locker en route to her last class, Libby swallowed a paracetamol, chasing it with water even as she winced at the powered taste.

  It didn’t help. Fifteen minutes in, she excused herself to go to the nurse and felt Tom’s eyes on her as she hurried from the room. She’d text him later, right after she called to make a doctor appointment. Her mother had been nagging her to see a doctor for over a week.

  Closing her eyes briefly against the pain, Libby didn’t see the person in front of her. She slammed into the obstacle, her folder dropping to the ground with a crash. Her hands shot out to gain balance, landed on a hard chest. In that instant of contact, she knew exactly who she’d run into. Jackson.

  “Sorry,” her voice was pathetically breathless as she snatched her hands back, and her cheeks flushed a violent red.

  “In a hurry?” His voice was like velvet, she thought distractedly, and full of amusement.

  “No. I just-” Don’t mention you had your eyes closed! She bit her lip, shook her head in an effort to prompt some intelligent thought. It had never been so difficult to be coherent. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

  He was even more attractive close up. His hair looked tousled, as though he’d been running. It wasn’t dark blond, she realised, but a hundred shades of it.

  She was staring. And too close. Mortified, Libby forced her gaze away and took a step backwards, focused on a point past his shoulder. “I’d better go.”

  She made it past him, trying to get some space between them before she made a complete idiot of herself.

  “Libby.”

  Her name, in his voice. She stood still, absorbing the impact of it and wondering if she were just a little insane to be this hung up on a guy she’d barely spoken two words to. Sally would be in hysterics over her lack of finesse.

  Steeling herself, she turned and met his gaze. He seemed inordinately amused, although he wasn’t exactly smiling.

  “You forgot this.” Her gaze fell to his outstretched hand. Her folder. Had she really forgotten to pick it up? Embarrassment coursed through her.

  “Thanks.” She all but snatched it from him. Hesitating, she wondered if there was something else to be said, some way she could keep him talking, but nothing intelligent came to mind. Since she didn’t think it would be particularly dignified to simply beg him to speak to her, she figured it was better to cut and run.

  Libby flicked him a quick smile before walking as fast as she could towards the nurse’s office. She felt his eyes on her, grimaced at the all too familiar thrill that trickled through her veins at the thought of it.

  It was only when she turned into the nurse’s office that she realised her headache had completely disappeared.

  “Hey Dad.” She wasn’t expecting him to be home, but the car had been in the drive. She took a minute to take off her dripping coat. “Dad?”

  She walked through to the kitchen, smiled when she saw him at the table hunched over a letter. “Dad, hello! You’re away with the fairies. How come you’re back so early?”

  “Libby.” He looked up, his face ravaged.

  Alarmed, she moved quickly. Her hand griped his shoulder.

  “What is it?” Sudden terror gripped her. “Is it Mum? Is she okay?”

  “She’s gone.” His voice was flat, devoid of all feeling. He pushed the letter into her hand, and stood up to pace across to the sink where he stood motionless, gazed fixed on something the other side of the glass.

  Confused, Libby turned her attention to the letter her father had given her. She recognized her mother’s writing instantly and the sense of foreboding was overwhelming.

  I’m so sorry, but I need to go away for a while. I need to get myself together. I love you, I love Libby, with all my heart. Try not to worry. I’ll be home soon.

  Silence roared in her ears as she stared at the writing. It blurred and wavered.

  “I don’t understand. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Her father didn’t move. After a few moments, Libby realized he wasn’t going to speak again. His pain was palpable, a tear in her heart.

  “Dad.”

  “I’m sorry Libby. Could you-” His voice broke and he paused, gathered himself. “I need to be alone right now. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I…I’ll be in my room.”

  She had never taken the stairs so fast. Breathing hard, she leaned back against the door, her hear thundering. How could her mother have just walked out? And what for? What did she mean, about getting herself together? She’d known her mum had struggled with the changes they'd faced, but she would never have believed it would come to this.

  Libby gasped for breath, tears gathering in her eyes. The trembling began slowly, grew harder to contain as she stood helplessly against the door. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there when the headache came, fast and furious, a roaring pain that seared her eyes.

  She fell onto her bed, closing her eyes tight against the afternoon light still seeping through the window.

  It was barely light when she woke, groggily levering herself out of bed. Her first thought was of her mother and the note she’d left behind. The air seemed thick, almost heavy with pain. Still in yesterday's clothes, Libby rushed quietly down stairs and out of the door. The cool air bit through her sweater and she shivered, wishing she’d remembered her coat. It was clearer out here, lighter. She didn’t go back.

  There were few cars on the road at this hour. The odd light glowed through closed curtains as she walked the estate, her breathing harsh in the silence. She heard footsteps and glanced up to see a runner approaching. He smiled as he passed.

  Elation slammed into her, leaving her giddy. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she stopped, her mind racing. What was that? As soon as she had the thought, the feeling vanished.

  Frightened, she retraced her steps. Was this what it was like, to break down? She didn’t think so. She felt fine now, completely fine. But that punch of joy…it hadn’t even felt like her own, but separate somehow.

  She was almost running by the time she reached her house and she let herself in, leaning against the closed door as she gained her breath. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She was imagining things now. Great.

  “Libby?” Her father appeared in the doorway. “I thought you were asleep. Where have you been?”

  Worry, laced with panic, seemed to simmer in the air around her. She straightened slowly, testing her feelings, wondering at this new combination. “I’m sorry, I just needed some air. Have you eaten?”

  “No.” He gave her a brief hug. “I’m sorry, I was worried when I saw you there.”

  He was worried. Nausea roiled in her stomach. He was worried. The feeling was still there, faint now as the scent of cologne might be when the wearer left the room.

  “I don’t want this to upset you too much.” He went on, oblivious to her turmoil. “I know that this is scary, but your mother hasn’t left for good. She wouldn’t lie about that. Things have been hard and we all need to adjust.”

  “I know.” She offered him a weak smile. “I know she hasn’t been…well.”

  “It’s been hard for her.” His sadness was almost too much to bear. “And for you.”

  “I’m fine, dad. Really. I need to get ready for school.” She managed a reassuring smile, but it slid from her face as soon as she turned away.

  She could feel his emotions.

  That jolt of adrenaline had been the runner’s, not hers.

 
Even as she realized it, she recognized the impossibility of it. She made it to school in record time, heading straight for the library and the computers there. Only one other student was in this early, hovering anxiously over a just remembered project. She felt the girl’s nerves and frustration ripple through her as she passed and shuddered with it.

  She ran an internet search, surprised at the number of direct hits. Empathy, empaths…people who are highly sensitized to the feelings of others. Although under normal circumstances she would have relegated these web pages into the nutcase category, she now felt relief as she read them.

  Empath.

  Relief soon turned to concern as she skimmed through one blog, detailing the author’s daily struggle in his efforts to be around other people. She hardly heard the bell ringing, so engrossed she was in her study.

  “Off to class please.” The librarian’s call had her jolting back to the moment. She hurriedly closed her screen and made her way to class.

  It was a bombardment of emotions. Frustration, annoyance, fear, anxiety, humour, longing…as she fought her way down the crowded corridor Libby felt her own panic rising and she struggled to check it. She could feel everything.

  “Libby.”

  She whirled at the familiar voice, her breathing as hard as if she’d been running.

  “Kelly.”

  In a moment her friend was at her side, and there was peace. For a moment she was speechless. All those emotions were gone. Or, as she concentrated, not gone exactly, just…muted.

  “Are you okay?” Kelly’s concern brought her head up.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” She scrambled for something to say. “My mum left.”

  Kelly’s face fell. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She began walking, sorting through her jumbled thoughts, trying to find one that made sense. “She’ll be back. It’s just…she’s having a thing.”

  “Okay.” Kelly put a hand on her arm, forcing her to stop for a moment. “You can talk to me anytime, you know. About anything.”

  For a moment she thought that Kelly was referring to something more, but there was no way she could know what was happening. Libby shook off the feeling and forced a weak smile. “I know. Thanks.”

  As she turned into the lab, the barrage of the students’ emotions hit her again and she almost stumbled.

  “It’s okay.”

  “What?” She looked up as Kelly sat beside her, concern etched over her face. The emotions faded again.

  “It’ll be okay.” Kelly smiled, patted her arm reassuringly.

  It’ll be okay. Libby let out a long breath and turned her concentration to the teacher. It would be okay. Somehow she would figure out what this empathy was and how she could stop it. There was every chance it was temporary, a sort of psychological response to her mother’s abandonment. The scientist in her relaxed a little, temporarily relieved. There was always an explanation, after all. She just had to find the right one.

  Chapter Six

  Each day began the same way, with her father’s misery and pain. School was harder, the sheer number of people making her head spin. It didn’t take Libby long to realize she could tune out the feelings; if she concentrated hard on something else, the jumbled confusion of emotions faded out and she could feel herself again. The effort was huge, however, and she was exhausted a lot of the time. Her father had been too distracted to notice that his seventeen year old daughter had started going to bed by eight at night, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t want to worry him. Feeling his every emotion was difficult enough, without adding to them.

  Once she was alone in her room she could shut out her dad’s despair and regret, forget the emotional roller coaster of the day and relax. More often than not, she combed the internet for information on her condition, reading blogs and forum posts. It became easy to identify the genuine bloggers. She followed them avidly, learning how to handle the deluge of emotion and collecting experiences. Like her, most of the others seemed to have developed the empathy in their teens, often after traumatic experiences. It was interesting and she kept a detailed record of her findings.

  The book her mother had given her became fascinating. She read and reread it, considering the theories and how they could apply to her. Suddenly, having a sixth sense didn’t seem so odd after all.

  People often talked about their sixth sense, a feeling that something wasn’t quite right – usually some bad feeling that had them changing their plans at the last moment and avoiding accident. There was no scientific evidence, however, and nowhere amongst the other evidence did she find anything to suggest the condition was temporary.

  She consoled herself with the fact that no doctor in the world would risk ridicule by undertaking this as research. She could, however. She knew the steps of a science investigation like the back of her hand and she could apply them to this problem easily.

  There would be a solution.

  Sleep was a relief. It came fast and deep, but she still found herself tired by mid-morning in an effort to block everyone out. She had already found out the advantages of this new part of her psyche, which was pretty cool. Gauging people’s moods had its uses in the classroom. She already knew that Mr Gilbert had the hots for the librarian, that the Deputy Principal wasn’t anywhere near as furious as he pretended when roasting latecomers at the gate. It hadn’t escaped her notice that it was easier to tune those emotions out, a great deal easier, when she was with Kelly and Danny. And Jackson.

  Lunch break had become a blessed relief, and the only times that she had been able to feel her own emotions without the bizarre undercurrent of the feelings of those around her.

  By the end of the week, she was so keen for their company that she was at the canteen before anyone else. Sighing, she joined the queue and hoped her friends wouldn’t be too far behind. In the meantime, she began reciting the details of the World War 1 peace treaties in her head.

  “Hi.”

  She was startled enough to see Jackson appear in the queue beside her, even more so since this was probably the first time he’d started a conversation with her.

  “Hi.”

  She had no idea what to say, staring blankly down at her tray. So tired, she could only hope he was willing to persevere. To her surprise, he did.

  “Thank God it’s fish and chips today,” he muttered. “I’m over the healthy food attempts. It should be illegal to cook cauliflower cheese in bulk.”

  Remembering the pale cream sludge of the previous day, she could only agree. “It tasted okay.”

  “And that would be a generous description,” he replied wryly, adding a can of coke to his tray. “Drink?”

  “Just water. Thanks.” Libby watched in amazement as he reached across to snag a bottle of water. What was wrong with him? Usually he barely acknowledged her, yet here he was getting her a drink and making small talk. It was as astonishing as it was nerve-wracking. Whatever the cause, she was grateful. Once again he seemed to act like a filter and she was able to relax a little.

  She paid the cashier and made her way to their usual table. Tom was already there, eating at speed. She guessed he was in the middle of some project or other and in a hurry to get to the library.

  “You’ll get indigestion if you keep eating like that.” She sat opposite him, grinning as he pulled a face. She could feel his impatience, his eagerness to get started. Definitely a new project, she decided.

  “Yes, mother.” He glanced up as Jackson arrived behind her. “Hey.”

  Libby felt her heart jump as Jackson pulled out the seat beside hers. She frowned in wary confusion.

  “In a hurry?” Jackson asked, lazy amusement in his voice.

  Tom swallowed the last mouthful of his lunch, nodding as he did so. “Chess club. I know, I know.” He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m a complete nerd. I can’t help it.”

  “Good luck.” Libby called, amused at the distracted way he raised a hand in thanks as he rushed towards the
doors. “All that excitement for chess? Go figure.”

  She hadn’t expected a response, but Jackson spoke again. “Yeah, well, he's been after starting a chess club for years. Now they actually have enough nerds to make a decent go of it.”

  Confused she sent him a sideways glance. He was dousing his chips in ketchup, humour still evident in his expression. “How do you know?”

  He looked at her, eyebrow raised. “What?”

  She frowned. “How do you know he's wanted the chess club for that long?”

  “I guess he mentioned it.”

  She toyed with her lunch for a moment, wondering what it was that was off about his tone. Unconcerned, Jackson continued eating. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No.”

  She was too busy wondering why she couldn’t read anything from Jackson. With Kelly and Danny it was muted, but she could still sense their moods. Danny was usually torn between adoration and exasperation, whilst Kelly seemed to hum with humour and excitement almost constantly. Some days Libby was so tired she was only thankful she didn’t get Kelly on full power.

  Jackson, however, was a blank. She didn’t know whether to be glad of the reprieve or annoyed that he was so inaccessible.

  Sighing, she pushed her tray aside. “Why are you talking to me?”

  “We could sit in silence, if you’d prefer.” He replied dryly.

  “You’ve never spoken to me before.” At his raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “Not a conversation, at least.”

  “No one has a conversation with Kelly around.”

  His answer was hardly convincing. She frowned. There was every possibility that Kelly had told Jackson of her mother’s disappearance and, as much as the whole thing upset her, the last thing she wanted from him was pity. “I want a real answer.”

  He turned towards her, sighing as he abandoned his lunch. “I know. But the canteen isn’t the right place.”

  It wasn’t just her, then. She knew it. Swallowing hard, Libby made sure her voice was steady before replying. “So where is the right place?”