FEARLESS: The King Series, Book One (7 page)

I hurried my way to lunch and flew through the cafeteria doors, slipped past the people waiting in line and straight across to the second set of doors leading outside. I blinked in the bright sunshine and spotted Michael just setting two trays an empty table.

“Hey!” I greeted him. And then stared at the food on the table. “I thought it was going to be just us for lunch today.”

He looked at me in surprise. “It is. Why?”

“You cannot seriously imagine that the two of us are going to eat all of that. I could sit here for hours and not make a dent in it.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “You underestimate my appetite. And you have to eat up, because…” he dropped his voice and leered at me. “The gators at Lancer Park are expecting a good meal this afternoon. I’d hate to disappoint them.”

I just looked at him, evenly. “Oh, funny. You know, you probably don’t want to mess with me today. I stood up to Nell in Chemistry, and I am feeling pretty invincible.”

Michael feigned shock. “Really? Is she still giving you trouble?”

“I think she’ll leave me alone just long enough to think of something horrible to do. But I don’t want to talk about Nell.” I settled myself into my bench seat. “I’m here to listen to you, remember? All mysteries solved and so on?”

He laughed, and I glowed inside. “I don’t know about all mysteries. Here, eat some of this hamburger.” He pushed a plate with the sandwich and a stack of fries on it toward me.

“Okay, okay, I’m eating.” I took a bite of the burger and was surprised how good it tasted.

“So…” Michael fidgeted with the silverware on the tray and scowled at it. It dawned on me that he was stalling… he was nervous. Again I felt such an overwhelming tenderness toward him that my heart seemed to swell.

“You know, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” I said, swallowing another bite of hamburger.

“It’s not that. I’m just trying to decide how to start.”

“Why don’t you begin with my biggest question: why me? Why do you care about what I think or do or how I’m adjusting here, or if I need a ride to school? I’m not saying that I don’t like it,” I hastened to add. “I’m just not used to it.  You—you look after me. It seems like you really do—care.”

“I do,” he vowed, his eyes intensely serious. “I guess that’s the biggest thing I want you to believe. I know this is very fast and very sudden to you, but to me—” he took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

My heart pounded and I couldn’t answer.

“When I saw you that first day in the hall, with Nell going at you, I couldn’t believe it. I just looked at you and I knew. I don’t know how I managed to make any kind of sense to you or Nell, because it felt like all the words were jumbled around in my head. I would have stood up for anyone Nell was picking on, but when I saw it was
you
—it was like…” He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Like finding what I didn’t even know I’d been looking for. And I was so rattled that I couldn’t even figure out what  I was saying.”

“
You
were nervous?” I was incredulous. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You just seemed so sure of yourself.”

“I guess I’m a good actor,” he laughed. “I was glad I thought to mention lunch, because then I knew I’d see you again. All I wanted to do was talk with you alone, get to know you, but I didn’t want to scare you off. I thought eating with my friends would make it easier on us both, but that whole time, I just wanted them all to leave us alone. I was kicking myself afterward, wishing I’d managed to talk to you by myself a little more.

“And then I saw you in the parking lot that afternoon. I had been looking for you, but I had to get to work. When you looked up at me, before I even called you…”  Michael took another deep breath. “I knew, for sure.”

What he was saying was heady stuff, but I needed some clarification. “You said that before—that you
knew
. What did you know, exactly?”

Michael set down the cookie he’d been eating. “This is what I’ve been… uncertain about saying. I don’t know what you’re going to think.”

This time it was my turn to say it. “You can trust me, Michael. Whatever you tell me, it’s not going to change what I—think of you.” I had been about to say, what I
felt
for him, but at the last minute I lost my nerve. It was the first time that I was in the position to assure him that it was safe to open up to me; up until now it had been the other way around.

He looked at me steadily, holding my eyes with his in that devastating way he had. My whole body was instantly tingling, electrified.

“I
knew
… that you are the girl I’ve been waiting for, since I became old enough to realize I
was
waiting. I’ve liked other girls, as friends. I’ve even thought some of them were pretty. But you—ahhhh.” He exhaled in frustration.“I can’t explain it the right way. I’m eighteen, or just about, so it’s going to come off like I’m some kind of nut, or like I’m just giving you a line. If I were saying this ten years from now, it might seem reasonable. But right now, it sounds like a page from a bad romance novel.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Not that I’ve ever read a bad romance novel. Or any romance novel at all.”

“Of course not,” I murmured.

“When I saw you that first day-was it only three days ago? When I saw you then, you took my breath away.  You—you’re so beautiful. And when I got to talk to you, I knew right away you were just as gorgeous on the inside, too. The
real
you, I mean. Who you are.”

I couldn’t reply, mostly because I had stopped breathing and my throat had closed. I was mortified to realize that tears were lurking at the back of my eyes. Michael’s words and the obviously deep feeling behind them stunned me.

“So… are you completely freaked out? Ready to take out a restraining order?” His words were light, but his eyes were worried.

I shook my head slowly, and I found somehow I could breathe again. “No, that never crossed my mind.” My thoughts were swirling, not making sense, and it was growing harder to keep Michael tuned out. I could feel his nervousness and his fear, but even stronger than that was his ringing sincerity. And then bits and pieces of real thoughts began to fly out at me.
This is it, what she thinks and how she reacts, that’s all the matters. What if she doesn’t really… what if she can’t feel the same way or if she’s spooked by what I’m saying… I don’t know what I’ll do.

I closed my eyes abruptly and turned my head away, concentrating hard on not listening. After he had essentially bared his soul to me out loud, it seemed a petty intrusion to hear his thoughts.

At the same time, I knew I had to reassure him. Keeping my eyes closed, I murmured, “I’m sorry. When things get—intense, like this, it’s harder for me to respect the privacy of others. I’m just working on not hearing.”

My eyes flew open when I felt his hand against my face. His fingers firmly cupped my jaw and his thumb brushed one eyelid gently. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t shut me out. I promise, there’s nothing I’m thinking that I don’t want you to know.”

Another first. Never in my life had anyone offered me an open pass to his mind. I expended so much energy and attention keeping up my mental wall that the idea of letting it down was a little daunting, even while it was freeing.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You don’t know how much that means to me. But I won’t abuse your trust.”

“I know,” he smiled. “That’s part of the whole you being gorgeous on the inside, too. I have faith that even if you did hear something you weren’t meant to, you wouldn’t use it against me.”

I sighed. “That’s the one flaw in your line of reasoning.  I don’t think you’re a stalker, I don’t think you’re just handing me a typical guy line. I believe that for some insane reason, you really do feel the way you just told me. But I still don’t get the why. I’m so not worth the trouble that comes as part of the package.”

“Well, there you’re wrong,” he said with absolute certainty in his voice. “About the trouble and the worth, I mean. The bigger issue is whether or not
I’m
worthy of you. That’s my real doubt. And since I’m not a mind reader—” he smiled slightly, “—I have no way of knowing your feelings on that.”

“You mean, unless I tell you.”

He nodded. “I’m not trying to force you into some big confession of—anything. I wanted you to know where I was coming from before we talked this afternoon. I have lots of questions for you, and I want you to feel comfortable with answering them, knowing how I feel about you.”

I wasn’t sure I could handle giving him a reply yet. What had I expected him to tell me today? His actions and words all week had pointed to the fact that he was interested in me. That was as far as I had been willing to take this in my mind, afraid that even considering anything more would hurt when it didn’t materialize. But what he had told me was completely beyond my hopes. He had trusted me enough to open himself up to possible rejection or ridicule; although I was afraid I wore my feelings for him in plain sight, he seemed to be as unsure about me as I had been about him.

I took a deep breath and took the plunge before I could think myself out of it. “I have no idea why you feel for me what you do, because I’m nothing special. I have a special gift, or talent or whatever you want to call it, but you didn’t even know that at first. I believe you, I believe all you told me today, but I still don’t understand the
whys.

“It’s incredible to me that you do—feel that way. It would be immensely flattering under any circumstances, but it’s more than that now. Because from what I’ve read or seen, this—” I pointed at Michael and then back at myself, “—rarely happens.” I swallowed hard before continuing, because tears were threatening again. The tender feelings rolling off Michael weren’t helping.

“What I am trying to say, and not very well, is that—one of the reasons I believe you is because—it’s how I feel, too.” For the first time since I began speaking, I looked up from the table and into Michael’s eyes. They shone at me with such depth of trust that I was momentarily lost. I struggled to continue.

“That first day, in the hall, I could hardly talk to you. But for me, that’s not unusual. I never talk to boys, and I don’t even have that many conversations with girls, either. When I saw you at lunch, I was grateful to you, but still pretty confused about why you bothered. And then after school that day, when you stopped me as I was leaving—it was like the sun broke across a gray sky.

I smiled, shaking my head. “I know. Lame, isn’t it? But it’s true. You think you’ve been waiting for
me
? My life has been…” I sucked in a breath as I considered my next words.  “Empty. It’s been me and my parents, and my mom and dad have each other. I never had anyone to talk to about how I hate moving all the time, because it would make them feel guilty. I don’t talk much about my—what I can do, because I know it makes them crazy. They like to stick to the illusion that I can control this, that it’s not a big deal. Well, it is a big deal, and I’ve been very lonely.

“So even if you had turned out to be just a good friend, that would’ve been something. But I knew from that first afternoon, to me you were something more. I was smiling inside for the first time, maybe ever. And then when I blew my cover with you, and you didn’t freak out or tell anyone, that made it even better, because not only were you kind to me, now I could talk to you, really talk, and not hold anything back. And that is something I haven’t had with anyone outside of my family. Ever.”

This was a very long speech for me, and I ventured another look at Michael to make sure he wasn’t bored. His eyes were fastened on my face, and he seemed alert, so I continued.

“You said you
knew
. Well, maybe I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but I think it’s the same thing. I…
felt
.” I laid a hand over my heart. “For the first time, I felt connected and—that I mattered to someone. I knew that I cared for you way too much, way too soon, but I couldn’t talk myself out of it.” I took another long breath. “So there you have it.”

Michael didn’t say anything. He reached across the table and took my hand from where it lay and twined his fingers through mine, then raised our joined hands together to his lips, brushing across my knuckles like a whisper. My heart skittered again, and this time I couldn’t blink back the tears that filled my eyes.

The bell rang shrilly, and we both jumped. We were the only ones left outside.

“We are so going to be late,” I moaned.

He grinned at me and jumped up, releasing my hand. “No, we’re not. I’ll take care of the trays. You go on to class. I have a sub for English today anyway.” He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave and brushed a hand over my hair.

“I’ll see you at your locker after school,” he reminded me. “Have a good afternoon.”

As if any alternative was a possibilit
y
.

Lancer Park was about ten minutes outside the King town borders. I saw the large lake before we even turned into the park and tried not to think of what lived in it.

We parked on the grass at the edge of the beach and walked toward the lake. The water sparkled innocently in the late afternoon sun, but I was still wary. Michael took my hand and pulled me down on the sandy lakeshore.

“You’re safe here. Nothing’s going to jump out of the water and get you.”

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. “It’s on your head if a gator grabs me by the leg and drags me out to the middle of the lake.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ll take that responsibility.” My heart beat a little erratically as my cheeks felt warm. Without meaning to, the wall I kept between us slipped slightly, and I heard, “
So pretty… what am I doing here with a girl like her?  She’s going to see that I’m not good enough for her…
” I pulled my gaze from his face and concentrated on not listening.

“What’s wrong? Are you really that freaked? We can go if you want.”

“It’s not that. I am just trying… not to listen. Sometimes it’s hard when it’s a more one-on-one situation.”

This time it was his face that reddened. “Are you hearing something you don’t like?”

Oh, great, Tas, I thought, way to help things out here. I decided it was better to lighten the mood.

“Not yet, I didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t listening hard enough?” I put my fingers to my temples and struck my best mind-reader pose.

It worked, and he laughed, bumping his shoulder against mine in a friendly way. I did notice, though, that he was still holding my hand from when he had pulled me down onto the sand. He followed my gaze.

“Does it bother you?”

I didn’t have to drop the wall to know what he meant. But I couldn’t quite articulate with my heart thumping and my throat suddenly feeling tighter. I just shook my head. He smiled then, and gripped my hand just a bit tighter.

We looked out over the water in silence for a few minutes, and then he began hesitantly, “Can I ask you a few things? About… you know, your talent.”

“Sure. Ask away. I don’t know how much I can explain, but I’ll try.” I bit the side of my lip and frowned slightly. I saw a reflecting frown on Michael’s face and his brow was furrowed.

“I don’t have to ask anything. You don’t have to tell me anything. We can just hang. It’s cool. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” I could feel waves of uncertainty coming off him—he thought I was afraid he couldn’t be discreet.

“It’s not that. It’s not that I don’t trust you to keep it to yourself. It’s more—” I took a deep breath. “It might change how you feel about me. You could start seeing me differently. Acting differently around me.”

He was silent for a moment. I could tell that he was thinking about what I said, and it was a relief that he didn’t just offer me assurances.

“I don’t think it will make any difference. I already know the biggest part—I think, anyway—” he threw me a swift glance and I nodded in agreement, “—and it doesn’t make me like you any less. I just kind of want to know… more.”

I nodded again and took a deep breath. “Okay, so fire away. Unless you want me to just pick the questions out of your mind?” I meant the last part to be said flippantly, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“No, let’s do this the old-fashioned way, if you don’t mind. So, how long have you been able to read minds?”

“First, I’ll tell you it’s not really mind-reading. It’s more like hearing. Reading implies will; you don’t just walk around accidentally reading stuff, but you can definitely hear things you might not mean to hear. That’s more what it’s like with me. And it’s been all my life. As long as I can remember.”

His eyes widened. “Really? So even when you were a little kid? What was that like?”

I laughed without much humor. “It was just how I was. For me, it was normal. It was what I knew. So I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t remember any time when I couldn’t hear people.”

“How did your parents figure it out?”

I sighed. “It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t born with it stamped on my forehead, so my parents didn’t really figure anything out until I was old enough for it to affect my behavior. Although my mom thinks in hindsight there were clues when I was a baby.”

“What kind of clues?”

I stretched out the hand that wasn’t being held and used it to support myself as I leaned back a bit. “I guess, when I would cry, I would quiet down as soon as my mom would get up to get me—before I could even see her, but she was probably thinking about me and somehow I heard that. And also if she woke up in the middle of the night, hoping I would stay asleep, right after she thought about me, I would wake up. My mom figures I could hear her thinking my name and it woke me up.”

He laughed then, delightedly. “Your poor parents. They must have loved that.”

I chuckled too. “Let’s just say they never meant me to be an only child, but my early childhood was such a challenge that they decided I was enough for them.”

“So when did they realize that you were not the average kid?”

I felt the familiar pain from those early years. “It didn’t take too long. I talked really early, probably because I was hearing so many more words than other toddlers. I started to repeat things that my parents had never said to me, and they had no idea where I could’ve picked up the phrasing, the words. And… I was very easily upset. I could pick up all my parents’ thoughts about me and about each other, and believe me, you don’t want to know what parents are thinking all the time. It wasn’t bad, but if they were the least bit impatient or tired or whatever, I knew that, and it upset me, because I didn’t know how to process what I was hearing.

“And then I started having trouble sleeping. My parents would get me to sleep, but I would wake up, screaming, probably because I heard them thinking, or I heard the neighbors thinking or whatever. I didn’t have any way to tune it out. And the lack of sleep, and dealing with what I was hearing all over the place—it didn’t make me a very pleasant toddler. The worse I got, the more my parents worried, and then I picked up on that, too.” I swallowed hard, unable to go on for a moment.

He squeezed my hand for just a second and then raised our joined hands to my face. I was surprised to feel that my face was wet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “If you want to stop…”

I shook my head. “No, it’s just difficult. These aren’t really
my
memories, or even totally things my parents told me. They’re more the memories I’ve picked up from them over the years, and they’re kind of painful ones.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m all right. So there I was, a troubled two year old. My parents didn’t know what to do. They took me to doctors, had me tested, and basically, they were told it was either a phase I would grow out of—or it was more serious. One doctor told them that he was sure I was emotionally disturbed, that I would probably end up living in some kind of group home for kids who were violent. That about killed my mom and dad. I think it was then they realized they couldn’t have any more children; some of the doctors were warning them that I might be physically abusive to any siblings.”

He whistled softly under his breath. “That must have been tough on them. What finally clued them in?”

I smiled shakily. “My grandmother figured it out. I spent a lot of time with her. She was the only person my parents would leave me with, and when I stayed there, I could actually sleep. See, she lived out on a farm, pretty far from her nearest neighbors, and she lived alone—my grandfather died before I was born. So it was very peaceful with her. She was a calm and restful person. And because of that, I was a calm and restful child when I was with her.

“She figured out gradually what I could do. She said there were lots of hints, and when she finally accepted that I could hear her thinking, it seemed the most logical answer.”

“Wow, what did she do? Was she freaked?”

I shook my head. “No, she wasn’t. She just dealt with it. My parents were harder to convince, but she asked them to hear her out and not jump to any conclusions. And to their credit, they did just that. I think they were so relieved to have an answer that didn’t involve me being in an institution, they would have accepted just about anything.”

“What happened next? Did they go back to the doctors?”

“No, because they knew the doctors wouldn’t listen and then the more they thought about it, they were afraid people might be interested in me for other reasons than to help me. So they kept it quiet, and they just started to focus on ways to deal with my issues. Like the sleeping. My mom started playing music in my room at night to block the thought noise, and they also started giving me a light sedative, just until I was old enough to learn how to deal on my own.”

“Did that help? The sleep, I mean?”

“Oh, it made a huge difference. So did the fact that my parents were so happy now and that they understood me. They worked, too, on ways to block their minds from me—trial and error, of course. And that helped. Immensely.”

I was finished for now, and he was quiet. I waited, wondering, and tempted more than I usually was to cheat and hear what he was really thinking. I didn’t, more out of cowardice than manners.

Again he tightened his grip on my hand, and again he raised our two hands. But this time, instead of bringing them to my face, he pulled them to his own, turned them over and brushed his lips over the back of my hand, as he had today at lunch. I shivered, even in the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, still holding my hand near his face, so that I could feel his breath against my fingers.

“Don’t be,” I breathed, still not sure why he was sorry.

“I don’t feel sorry for you, not now. But I am sorry for the little girl you were, and it makes me sad to see you remember, and hurt.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. I cleared my throat. “So, what else do you want to know?”

He cocked his head, thinking. “Can you hear everything, all the time?”

“If I just opened myself up and let it be, I would be able to hear a low buzz that would be the thoughts of everyone within a certain radius. I’m not sure how big a radius that is, but the closer people are, the more clearly I can hear them. I don’t test it often, at least not on purpose. If I’m startled or stressed, sometimes the wall drops suddenly, and then I get a rush of noise. And as you learned, if I’m very emotional, sometimes I can’t distinguish between the spoken word and the thought word.”

“How did you learn to block it all?”

“My mom and dad taught me, as much as they could. They figured out when I was concentrating, I didn’t hear so much. We practiced, and they also taught me that it was impolite to listen in on other people who hadn’t given me permission. They made me realize that private thoughts are just that. And that even if I did accidentally hear something, I shouldn’t respond or comment, because that wasn’t polite or safe.”

“Safe? So you really think you could be in danger from this?”

I hesitated. “Maybe. I don’t want to sound all
X-Files
or anything, but even if you’re not talking government stuff, there are companies that would be very interested in someone who could give them that edge. Anyway, I don’t want to open myself up to anyone who might exploit me, at all.”

He gazed at me intently, silently. He still held my hand near his face, and now he shifted to wrap it tightly in both of his, subtly pulling me slightly closer.

“I would never, never violate your trust in me. I want you to know that.”

I wanted to make a silly reply, lighten the mood, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his. I nodded, barely. “I know.”

We were quiet for several minutes. The sun was slowly going down, still warm against our backs. Twilight had settled across the lake.

“Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

He pulled in a deep and slow breath. “Hundreds of things. But nothing that can’t wait. This has been a lot for you today.”

“I’m not used to it. I
don’t
share—I just don’t. And I don’t even talk much about this stuff with my parents.”

“Why not?”

“Unless there’s a problem, there really isn’t any need to talk about my—gift. I guess no more than you would talk about being blind or deaf. It just is, and we deal with it.”

“And no one else has ever guessed or figured it out?” He was lightly running his fingers back and forth over the back of my hand, but his eyes were squarely on my face.

“No, not ever. I try not to get into many situations where someone might get suspicious.”

“That’s the whole staying aloof thing. You said before that you didn’t have many conversations with girls
or
boys.”

I nodded. “And it’s not hard. When you have to concentrate on not hearing everyone, it can come off like you’re stand-offish or stuck up. Or even something else.” I smirked a little, remembering.

“What?” he demanded. “What’s funny?”

“I was just thinking about my last school, in Wisconsin. There was a rumor going around that not only was I a snob, I didn’t like boys either.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”