But I hated that I reacted that way.
I hated that Alex had that much control over my feelings.
I dropped down in my chair and watched Alex as he shuffled the deck of cards like he was getting ready for a game of poker. He cut the deck once, twice, and then tapped it on the table, aligning the cards evenly with one another.
“Alright,” he slid the deck of cards at me, “you hold them up and I’ll tell you the answers.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly. Was he being serious? Because I’d thought when he’d made the agreement with Mr. Sterling, he’d made it as an empty promise. Yet here he was, waiting for me to show him a card.
I eyed the deck of cards warily, wondering if it was a trick or something. If I picked one up and showed it to him, would he laugh at me because I’d actually thought he wanted to work with me? Or was he just trying to be cooperative?
There was only one way to find out.
Reluctantly, I picked up the deck of cards he’d slid over and added it to my own. Then I flipped the top one up.
“Cassiopeia,” Alex answered indifferently.
He was correct, so I nodded and slipped the card under the deck. I lifted up the next one at the exact time the intensity of the electricity decided to ascend a notch.
“Ursa Major.” he said. Then very condescendingly added, “Or the Big Dipper.”
The sparks blazed as I held another card up, and I had to catch my breath.
“Ursa Minor.” He caught my eye. “Is something wrong?”
Although my heart was racing, I managed to sound composed. “Nope. Nothing’s wrong.”
He rolled his eyes, and my anger simmered as I showed him another card.
“Andromeda.” He shook his head. “This is so ridiculous.”
Okay, that was it. Enough was enough. A few choice words burned at the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back. “You know what, you’re right. This is ridiculous.” I tossed the card I was holding onto the table and slumped back in the chair. “If you don’t want to work with me, then fine. Maybe you should just leave again.” The prickle poked at my neck, but whatever emotion was trying to emerge was smothered out by my anger. “You don’t even know me, yet you hate me. Just like that. You never even gave me a chance.” I shook my head. “Yeah, you’re right. This is ridiculous.”
Wow. Where had that come from? It was so unlike me to be confrontational. Normally, I was quiet. I held back saying a lot of things to the point that it felt like my chest was going to burst from the pressure.
As soon as I was done with my little speech, I wanted to take it back. Yeah, he deserved it. He possibly deserved worse. But still, I should have been the bigger person.
He cocked an eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between shock and curiosity. “That’s quite the temper you’ve got.”
“You’re the one that has the temper,” I mumbled, and then quickly bit down on my tongue to stop myself from saying anything else.
He watched me closely, his expression softening as he leaned over the table. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll make you a promise.” He paused. “I promise I won’t be a jerk anymore.” I was about to relax until he tacked on, “At least for the rest of class, anyway.”
I shut my eyes and shook my head. What kind of a promise was that? Better yet, what kind of person said something like that? The gorgeous kind, I thought as an afterthought. Instantly, I wanted to smack myself on the head. What was I doing, thinking that way about a guy who clearly hated my guts?
I pulled myself together before opening my eyes back up. “Fine. Whatever. Sounds good.”
For the rest of class, we worked together in peaceful harmony. And I’m not even kidding. We took turns holding up the cards. There were no more fights or stare downs. To an outside observer, the situation probably appeared normal. Of course, they couldn’t feel the sparks constantly spiraling and swirling in my body, a silent reminder that things were far from normal.
They weren’t even close.
When the bell rang, I darted off to the library to eat my lunch. It was my typical lunch routine. Yes, it was a weird spot to eat lunch, especially for a high schooler. But I didn’t have any friends, and sitting alone in an overly crowded cafeteria was my only other option. So guess what? It was off to the library.
There were always a couple of other kids eating lunch in there. Sherman, this guy with extremely curly hair and tons and tons of freckles, was a regular. There was also Mrs. Bakerly, the seventy-something year-old librarian.
“Hello Gemma,” Mrs. Bakerly greeted me from behind the counter. “How are you today?”
“Good,” I replied. A total lie, but I didn’t need to share that with her. I adjusted the handle of my messenger bag higher onto my shoulder. “How are you?”
She smiled brightly. “I’m good.”
Smiling back at her seemed like such a huge project, but I managed to force a small one. Then I started off toward the far back corner of the bookshelves, my regular spot to hide out and eat my lunch. I selected a copy of the book I’d been reading from off of a shelf before settling down on the floor. Using my bag as a pillow, I relaxed against the shelf and opened up the book to the page I’d left off on from the day before.
The book told a story of a girl who had a super power. It got me wondering what it would be like to possess a power of my own. What if I could have been some extraordinary person with the ability to help the world, instead of loner/freak girl? Or what if I possessed the power to, let’s say, shield invisible, out of control, electric sparks?