pathway, with a screeching Chloe nipping at our heels.
24
The next afternoon I had to stifle a yawn during my training session with Mr Reid. It wasn’t that I was bored; on the contrary, his ability was one that I had been the most excited to learn. It was that I’d stayed up way too late the night before, thanks to Alex. Sounds great, I know, but unfortunately it wasn’t in the good way. In fact, Alex wasn’t even physically there. He’d gone to bed (or as I would forever call it, bailed on me) right after we’d had dinner with Chloe – who, by the way, could run pretty damn fast when she wanted to – leaving me to field her neverending stream of questions about him and me. How it had happened, when I found out, when he found out, what it was like, how it felt when it happened, etc. After I’d answered everything I could, the cycle began again, in which she scolded me for not telling her I’d had a crush on him all that time, then swore up and down that she was going to let Alex have it for not telling her he’d bonded to me, then gushing about how lucky we were, and how cute we were, and how jealous she was, and repeat.
It was past one in the morning by the time she left my room, at which point I figured it was as good a time as any to give my mom a call. With the five hour time difference between Ireland and Pittsburgh it was only dinner time for her, and I was finally able to bring myself to tell her I was planning on staying at St Brigid’s. She wasn’t overly thrilled that I was putting off college for yet another year, but liked the idea of me taking some of the college courses St Brigid’s offered, stating, “It will be good to have some credits so you can show whatever college you finally decide on that you haven’t been slacking off since high school.” Plus, she was happy that I would be there to keep an eye on Ry, and I know she was still thinking there was a chance that I would get closer to Jocelyn, though she didn’t actually say it. I hadn’t told her about any of my crash-and-burn encounters with the man called Dad, content to let her have delusions of father-daughter bliss if they made her happy.
I got to bed just after two, and being beyond exhausted when my alarm went off this morning had totally skipped my Gaelic class. But come on, I was really tired, and it was all crappy out…
…and I was tired…
Whatever. I would go next time, for sure. But even with the extra rest that skipping had provided me with that morning, I was still having trouble concentrating.
“Now, whenever you’re ready,” Mr Reid said, calling my attention back to the task at hand, “choose a book from the shelf and focus on it.”
I picked out a small one with a thin green spine. “OK.”
“What you want to make sure you do, is narrow–”
“For crying Holy Hell!” Mr Anderson moaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You’ve been rattling on for a year now! Just shut your trap, and let her give it a go!”
“I am trying to train her,” Mr Reid argued. “Isn’t that the point of these sessions? To train?”
“Aye, to train, not to talk her to death! At this rate, she’ll know Kinetics by the time she’s a grandmother!”
“Becca,” Mr Reid asked me, deliberately ignoring Mr Anderson, “have you chosen a book?”
“Yep.” I nodded, turning back to face the bookshelf, trying not to look amused by the banter.
“All right, go ahead and give it a try.”
I melded Mr Reid’s ability with mine, pleased with how easy it was getting. I focused my attention on the green book I’d chosen, reached out my hand and pushed the combined energy outward, extending toward the book. I gave a little squeal when I was able to make it wobble a little on the shelf.
“Good!” Mr Reid said, clapping his hands together.
“What’d I tell you?” Mr Anderson said. “The girl’s a natural!”
“Now, just a little more…” Mr Reid encouraged me.
I pushed out a stronger wave of energy toward the bookshelf, causing the green book to fly into my waiting hand so quickly it was like I’d had it on a bungee.