Kara's Cross

Chapter 18

I haven’t been able to talk to Logan about my bizarre experience with the counselor yet. By the time I made it back to science class, it was time to clean up and I was almost late for World Geography since Dani left all of the materials out for me to put away. He should be here in a few minutes. I am waiting to get into the lunch line until he arrives.

“Hey, Kara,” Logan’s words surprise me; “are we going to get in line or what?”

“Jeez, Logan, you scared me. Why are you sneaking around?” I scold.

“I walked right up to you, Kara. You must have been daydreaming. So, what’s for lunch today?”

“Ugh! Chili and chips,” I moan. I am definitely not a fan of the school’s chili. “At least the juniors and seniors can choose from the a la carte menu; I can’t wait until then.”

“You don’t have to, Kara. What’s the point of having the ability we have, if we can’t get out of eating school chili?”

Logan selects his tray and silverware while moving down the line to the woman serving the entrées. He waits a couple of seconds to allow the student in front of him to move a few feet forward while I hang back a bit to keep Logan from being heard.

“The two of us get the cheeseburger today,” he orders, “with extra fries.”

Without hesitation, she hands Logan a plate with a cheeseburger and a hearty serving of fries and does the same for me soon after.

“Thank you,” I smile, conveying my gratitude to her, “it smells delicious.”

She doesn’t seem to notice my words, but merely moves on to the next person in line.

I grab some ketchup and mayo and a handful of napkins before following Logan to a table by the window. I sit down across the table from him.

“Thanks, Logan, I don’t know why I didn’t think of doing it.”

“No problem,” he mumbles between bites of fries, “eventually you will realize the overall awesomeness of having this power and how useful it can be. By the way, what did you have to leave Science class for today?”

I tell him everything about my strange encounter with Ms. Smith earlier today. I describe the awkward questions, the digital recorder, and even the way she kept grilling me about trust and honesty.

“That is strange,” Logan agrees, “I’m not sure if she knows about your power or not. At least you know you can use your power on her. If she calls you into her office again, just tell her to forget who you are or to quit her job or something.”

“I know, but she didn’t respond like everyone else does. I told her to let me go to class and she still held the note for a little bit before releasing it so I could leave. She did what I said, but I’m not sure it was because of my power.”

“Well,” Logan crosses his arms, deep in thought, “if she has the power, too, it would explain all of the unusual questions she was asking you. Let’s just hope it’s over, right or wrong.”

Not really the solution I was hoping for, but I guess it’s all we have right now.

I spend the rest of our lunch in relative silence, enjoying the fact I have a delicious cheeseburger and all the other freshmen around me have chili. Logan’s right; this is what using my power is all about.

For the remainder of the day, I don’t really see too much of Logan. We have English together, but sit on opposite sides of the room, and for the last two periods, we are in different classes. Maddie is in my English class and in my PE class. Her expression moves from depressed to angry and then back again. Arabella is usually around when she looks angry; I am assuming there is a connection. The three of us have PE together and it has not been enjoyable lately. The two of them spend the entire period acting like best friends, laughing and smiling, whispering in each other’s ears. If I’m ever nearby, Arabella begins laughing and leans in to say something to Maddie, causing them both to point and snicker in my direction. It’s becoming harder and harder to believe we were best friends just a couple of weeks ago. Even Mason doesn’t appear to understand, giving me confused, sad looks when I see him in the halls.

If only Maddie understood what it is like to have this power. As far as she is concerned, it’s okay to use it sometimes, like cheerleading tryouts, but not others, like getting good deals in stores. She doesn’t even have the power and she tries to tell me how to use it. Just because she can’t handle Logan and I being able to do something she isn’t able to do, she throws away our friendship. I would have let her enjoy all the perks of my power, if only she hadn’t been so jealous.

**********

Logan and I decided to go to the mall after school today. Arabella had been especially bothersome today and I wanted to do something fun to take my mind off her and Maddie. Plus, there is a really neat top here I want to get.

“It’s just down here, Logan, quit acting like a baby.”

He has been complaining non-stop since I informed him I wanted to buy some clothes.

“You’re right, Kara,” sarcasm evident in his voice, “it’s every guys dream to follow a girl around while she tries on clothes over and over again. I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You don’t have to over exaggerate, Logan, I am only after one thing, a cute blouse. It will only take me a few seconds to find it and try it on, so stop whining. Besides, there are plenty of guys who love following girls around while they shop.”

“Yeah, they’re called boyfriends.”

He seems to regret his words as soon as they come out, looking slightly embarrassed and suddenly interested in the sale posters in the store we are passing. A bit of awkwardness still looms over the two of us ever since he indicated an interest in being more than friends.

“Here we are,” I point to the store, changing the subject, “we’ll be in and out of here in no time.”

Logan stands off to the side while I locate the blouse and find the size I need. He follows me to the changing area and sits at a bench while I go into the changing room. The blouse looks even better than I had imagined it would and fits perfectly. As I change back, I glance at the price tag. Forty-eight dollars! I was expecting ten or fifteen, but not that much. I only brought twenty bucks with me. I hadn’t planned to ask for a discount, but I do really want this blouse. It’ll be okay, I’ve never used my power here before and it’s safe to assume Logan hasn’t either. I’ll just let the cashier know it’s 60% off. I should even have a little money left for a slice of pizza.

I exit the changing room and give Logan thumbs up. He looks relieved.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask.

“It was a little bad,” he counters, “there is absolutely nothing interesting to do or look at back here.”

“Well, I’m glad you survived the torture, then,” I smile. “I didn’t know it would be so unbearable.”

He returns the smile as I walk up to the register and hand her the blouse. As the cashier scans the tag and folds the shirt, I reach into my pocket for my money. A mild panic sets over me when I realize it is empty. I quickly check the rest of my pockets and look around the floor for any signs of my twenty dollars but find none. I quickly retrace my steps and remember I had placed my money in my jacket pocket, which I had left at home since the weather was so nice today. This sucks. I really want this blouse.

“The total is fifty-one thirty-eight.” The cashier looks at me expectantly.

I am sure Logan would lend me some money, but I don’t know if he brought any either.

I look at the cashier and give her my attention, focusing on the words I am about to say.

“I’m the one-hundredth customer of the day. My purchase is free today.”

Logan swings his head around in surprise.

“Your purchase is free today, ma’am,” the cashier repeats in a monotone fashion; “you’re the one-hundredth customer of the day. Will you be getting anything else?”

Logan’s shock quickly subsides as he grabs a couple of the key chains hanging by the register.

“We want these, too.”

“That’s all,” I add quickly, before Logan can add any more to the total.

The cashier puts everything in a bag and hands it to me. Logan and I head out of the store toward the café court.

“Why did you get those key chains?” I turn to question him, “I only made the blouse free because I realized I’d forgotten my money. We didn’t have to make them lose any more money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, “you’ve never used your power there before, right?”

I nod.

“I obviously haven’t either,” Logan confirms. “It will probably not even be noticed, and if it is, they will think they’ve made some sort of mistake. So, don’t worry about it.”

“Fine,” I give in, “I’m just saying you didn’t have to take the key chains just because you could; it would have been different if you needed them.”

Having the cashier give it to me free is enough like stealing; Logan didn’t need to make it more obvious.

“I’m going to get some curly fries.” Logan walks over to the fry place before I can say anything. I don’t really feel like eating anything right now, and if I did, I’d have to have them give it to me free. Once is enough for today.

We sit in the café court while he eats his fries. We don’t talk much. Between the free stuff and the boyfriend comment, things feel kind of strange right now.

After finishing, Logan crumples up his trash before carrying the tray over to the can. I get up and walk over beside him.

“Do you want to come over to work on homework?” I ask, but suddenly remember it won’t work. “Wait, never mind, my dad said he was meeting a friend for dinner tonight. He would not be okay with anyone coming over while he is gone.”

I think for a minute.

“I guess you could come over,” I change my mind, “if he comes home before you leave, we can tell him you were just dropping me off. It’s not like we’ll be doing anything he won’t like.”

Logan shakes his head before answering, “We sure won’t.”

It’s getting hard to ignore Logan’s comments reminding me he wants to have a relationship. I had hoped we’d move past this, but he’s making it difficult.

“Well,” I begin, “it’s up to you either way. I need to get home and work on my homework, so you can come with if you want.”

“I’ll come,” he responds, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call my mom to give us a ride to your house.”

I am glad he’s going to be there. I enjoy Logan’s company and it is nice having someone around who can relate to what I can do. Maddie always seemed to accept my power, at least until recently, but she could never understand the pain or anything else that comes with it. When I was only using it to help her out, it was okay, but, apparently, using it for other things bothers her. Logan gets it.

I stand over by the curb while he finishes the phone call to his mom. Part of me thinks we should go out. How can I be sure he’s not a good match? We get along well. We have a lot in common. He’s obviously interested.

A sharp pain bites at my side. As I look down to see what happened, someone’s hand clamps onto my shoulder and pushes me to the right. I struggle briefly, attempting to release myself from the person who is holding me. My body shifts enough for me to recognize Shayna’s face. I twist to break her grip until the pain in my side intensifies. Something is digging into my skin.

“Keep scurrying around mouse and you’ll end up with a new hole in your body,” she whispers the words right next to my ear, “you can believe I’ll do it, too. You’ve caused me more than enough trouble this year, and I’ve been eager to break in my new knife.”

She is guiding me behind some dumpsters around the corner from the mall doors Logan and I exited. I can’t see him anywhere, but I can see one of her friends in the corner of my eye. I want to cry out for Logan, or anyone, but I am afraid she will dig the blade further into my side. It already feels like I am bleeding. I don’t know if she would give me the chance to use my power on her and I’m not even sure I could concentrate right now if she did. I need to do something.

“Logan!” I scream before Shayna’s hand reaches across my face covering my mouth. The pain from the knife intensifies. I am definitely bleeding now.

“Shut up,” Shayna grunts into my ear; “try that again and you’ll regret it.” She presses the knife closer to illustrate her point.

“Where’s your slut friend, little mouse? I thought you two always played together. I’m anxious to show her some of the things I can do with this knife. I’ve been working on ways to thank the two of you for my time in jail.”

“Kara!” Logan’s voice calls out as he turns the corner, running toward me. He hasn’t seen Shayna’s friend off to the side. I struggle to try to warn him, but can’t move enough to do more than plead for him to understand the look in my eyes.

The other girl intercepts Logan from the side, tripping him and pushing him towards the wall as he falls. Logan’s back and head slam against the bricks and he falls to the ground in a heap. He isn’t moving; I can’t tell if he’s conscious.

I slam my head back as hard as I can, making contact with some part of Shayna’s head. She releases her grip on my face, but her other arm tightens around my waist, digging the blade further into my skin. I scream from the intensity of the pain. I need to concentrate if I’m going to get out of this.

I quickly focus my effort and energy on Shayna and the other girl.

“Stop!” I command, concentrating as much as the pain in my side will allow.

An ache in my head suddenly rivals the pain in my side. Shayna releases her hold on me and just stands there, motionless. The other girl is standing in a similar fashion; they are like horrible mannequins. They both appear to have forgotten about us as well as anything else going on aroun

Logan begins to sit up, holding his head. He glances around looking confused then looks at me in recollection. Shock or fear shows in his widening eyes as he looks down toward my waist. Following his gaze, I notice my hand has been instinctively covering the gash in my side. Blood is staining my shirt and beginning to cover my hand.

I stumble back against the wall and allow myself to slide into a sitting position on the ground. A feeling of lightheadedness overtakes me. I can’t be sure if it is from using my power or from the cut in my side; it could even be from the sight of blood. Fatigue threatens to overtake my body. The pain in my head and my side both fight for dominance. I just want to lie down.

The shock on Logan’s face evolves into concern and then into anger. His eyes narrow to half their size and he grits his teeth, turning his attention to Shayna.

“Go jump in front of the fastest car you see in the parking lot,” Logan practically growls the words. Shayna begins walking away from us toward mall parking.

“Logan, no,” my words don’t come out as strongly as I hope; “she could get killed.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Logan asks, hurrying by my side. “Look what she did to you. You could’ve been the one who died. She deserves whatever happens.”

It’s too much. She doesn’t deserve to die. I turn to face the girl who was with Shayna. My vision has blurred to the point where I can only make out her shape and I can tell she hasn’t moved yet. I hope that I will be able to do this one more time.

“Go help her,” I moan to the girl with as much concentration as I can muster. My voice might not have even been loud enough for her to hear me.

Logan kneels in front of me, blocking my view. I have no idea if the girl is there anymore or not. I don’t have the energy to care anymore. The pain is going away, surprisingly, now I just want to rest.

“Kara,” Logan’s words clear my head, “how badly are you hurt?”

“I’m not sure; the pain is not so intense anymore. I’m just tired.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing, Kara. Let me see your side.”

Logan carefully lifts my shirt enough to see my injury. He inhales quickly and his face twists.

“What’s wrong,” I ask, becoming worried. I can’t see anything from my current angle. “Is it really bad?”

“Hold on,” he puts his hand somewhere near the injury, “I’m trying to get a better look at it.”

Logan places his fingers gently on my side and pain immediately shoots through my body. His movement stops, centering on the area I was injured. Not being able to see or hear anything happening anymore, my thoughts shift over to Shayna. I wish I knew if the girl was able to stop her in time. I don’t even know if she heard my words.

Logan must have covered me up with something because a warm sensation is spreading across my entire midsection. He’s probably trying to keep me warm until someone can come help us. I think I’m going into some kind of shock. I remember hearing that the worse injuries are the less they hurt. My pain is almost gone now; I must be in bad shape.

“Logan,” I mumble, “maybe you should call 9-1-1.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to,” Logan replies slowly; “your cut isn’t bad. She must’ve hit a vessel just right for it to bleed like it did, but up close it doesn’t look much worse than a paper cut. It’s already stopped bleeding.”

What? It sure didn’t feel like a small cut. Blood coats my hand and shirt. How is this even possible? Logan must be trying to keep me calm. I lean my body forward far enough to look down at my side. Drying blood covers the area, but the cut itself is a small line only about a half an inch long. Logan is right; it does appear to be minor. It’s already healing.

“I guess I overreacted,” my voice wavers in embarrassment, “I don’t know why I thought it was so much worse.”

“It was really scary,” Logan reassures, “and everything felt so intense it makes sense things would feel worse than they might have been.”

“Logan, your nose is bleeding!”

He places his fingers under his nostrils and pulls them away to find new blood on his fingertips. He sniffs before pinching his nose shut.

“It probably happened when I hit the wall,” his voice is muffled, but I can understand the words, “it’ll probably stop in a minute.”

“You look so pale, Logan. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m just tired,” he answers weakly; “I think the stress of the situation stole my energy. I should probably just go home tonight, instead of over to your house.”

I can’t believe how pale he looks. He must have hit his head hard.

Nodding my agreement, “That sounds like a good idea, but we’re a mess; our parents are going to freak out...especially my dad. He’s probably going to call the police.”

“We just need to get cleaned up,” Logan mumbles, “I’ll wash my hands and face you change into your new shirt.”

That should work. I hope that my dad won’t be home until I can change back out of my new shirt.

“Are you going to be able to make it to the bathroom and back again?” I ask. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’ll make it,” he utters; “like I said, I’m just a little tired.”

We head back to the mall restrooms, doing our best to conceal the signs of blood on our clothes and hands. It’s slow going, since I let Logan set the pace, but we manage to get there without raising any attention. After watching Logan enter the men’s room, I head into the ladies’ room turning on the water of the nearest sink. It only takes a few moments to get my arms and side clean. I change into my new shirt in one of the stalls before bringing my original shirt to the sink to rinse it out. Most of the blood comes out easily leaving only a tinge of pink bordering around a sizable hole. It’s hard to believe how the large rip in my shirt doesn’t even compare to the tiny cut on my side. It doesn’t make much sense.

I ring out the shirt and roll it up; placing it into the bag from the store. Before heading out to check on Logan, I stop to see how my new shirt looks. I don’t look nearly as good in it as the mannequin does, but the shirt is nice. If only I had the power to make myself taller and more able to fill out my clothes. I’d tell myself the curves on a mannequin are unrealistic, but Arabella’s body shape is almost the same and she’s my age. It’s not fair someone as mean as Arabella is so beautiful and I am average at best.

Walking out of the bathroom, I expect to see Logan waiting for me, since he only had to wash his hands, but he is not around. I pace the corridor for a couple of minutes before I start to worry.

“Logan,” I call through the door after knocking; “are you still in there? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” his reply barely audible, “coming.”

He steps out a few seconds later, skin lighter than before.

“I think we should get you to a doctor or something, Logan, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures, “I promise. I just need some rest. My mom should be here by now, we should get outside.”

We make our way outside at a slower than average pace and look around for Logan’s mom. The blaring of a car horn brings our attention to where she has parked her car. I follow Logan over, half jogging to keep up with his quickened pace. Either he is feeling better or he doesn’t want his mom to suspect he isn’t his usual self.

Logan opens the rear side door for me before walking around to the other side.

“Hi, Mrs. Bernard,” I begin enthusiastically as I take my seat in the back and shut the door. “Thank you so much for picking us up tonight.”

“No problem, Kara,” she turns to smile at me, “did you have a fun evening?”

“It was alright, I guess.”

I am relieved to see Logan finally getting into the seat on my right. I didn’t really want to go into more detail about our night so far.

“I have been waiting here for fifteen minutes,” Logan’s mom turns her attention toward him, her voice considerably less friendly sounding than before. “Why did you call so early if you weren’t ready to go? I have better things to do than sit in parking lots for half the night, you know.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” she grumbles, “you can make up for it by doing the dishes when we get home.”

Logan nods and leans his head back on the seat. It doesn’t seem quite fair. She is punishing him for helping me.

“It was my fault, Mrs. Bernard. Logan kept trying to get me to leave the store, but I told him I wanted to try on a couple more things before we left. I should’ve listened to him. I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Logan gives me a confused look as his mom studies me through the rear view mirror.

“Well, then,” she begins, reclaiming her pleasant tone, “Hopefully, you see my point, Kara. You have to think about everyone involved in a situation, not just yourself.”

Logan begins to argue, “Mom---”

“Don’t mom me, Logan. It’s a matter of respecting the people around you.”

Logan opens his mouth, looking even more ready to debate her words.

“Your mom is right, Logan,” I place my hand on his leg and look pleadingly into his eyes; “I should’ve listened to you. It was selfish of me to make everybody wait.” I turn back to his mom. “I am sorry. I’ll make sure to be more considerate in the future.”

She nods before returning her full attention to exiting the parking lot, seeming satisfied by my words. Logan shakes his head slightly, but smiles at me, obviously not too bothered by the lie I just told. It was after all, my fault we were late, so it seems only fair I get the blame. Now, he can get home and get some rest.

“Great,” Logan’s mom groans. “It wasn’t bad enough I had to pull off to the side for this ambulance on the way here, but now I’m going to have to figure out how to get around it to leave this parking lot.”

Logan and I glance at each other in surprise before looking out to find the location of the ambulance. After finding it, I scan the area to see what happened. Sitting on the rear bumper of the ambulance is the girl who was with Shayna. The same girl who pushed Logan against the wall. She is covered in a blanket and holding some sort of medical pack up to her face.

Oh God, where is Shayna?

I keep looking around, more frantically than before, still seeing only the girl on the bumper. I don’t even see the paramedics; that’s odd.

As the car continues to make its way around the scene, I finally see the paramedics. They are on the ground, leaning over somebody, frantically working. I can’t make out whom it is, but the churning in my stomach is giving me a good idea.

I nudge Logan and point where the paramedics are working. He glances over in their direction and a surprised look appears on his face and quickly changes into what looks to me like guilt.

“Logan,” I lean over and whisper into his ear, “Is that Shayna?”

He looks temporarily lost in thought.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is,” he answers, almost too quietly to hear. “I can see the red shirt she was wearing.”

“Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“She was so mean to you,” the tone of his whisper sharpening as he speaks, “don’t you think she deserves whatever she gets? She could have killed you tonight.”

He leans back and puts his head against the back of the seat, facing away from me, looking out of the window. His words surprise me. I have wished for her to disappear from my life quite a few times, but I haven’t ever wanted her to be injured, or possibly die. Well, maybe briefly, but I didn’t mean it. I can’t believe Logan is okay with what happened.

I try to put it all out of my mind for the rest of the car ride. Logan still looks weak; I hope he is going to be all right. We don’t talk again until we arrive at my house.

“Here you are, Kara,” Logan’s mom announces, as if I didn’t notice we were at my house. “Have a nice night.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bernard, and thanks again for the ride home. I’ll see you later, Logan.”

Logan smiles. I can’t tell for sure, but it almost looks like his eyes are bloodshot. He must be in pain. I smile and open the car door. I take another glance back at him as I shut the door and see him leaning his head back down against the seat, more reclined than before. Part of me wants to use my power to persuade his mom to let me help him, but I don’t see how it could work out, especially with my dad.

“Logan,” his mom barks, so loud we can hear her through the closed car windows, “I’m not your taxi service. Get up here into the front seat.”

I cringe at her words, giving Logan a sympathetic glance as I open the front gate.

Turning around, I notice the porch light illuminating the front yard and the absence of lights on within the house. Dad isn’t home yet. I walk up the path, turning around one last time to wave. Logan is looking down at his lap now, but his mom sees me and raises her eyebrow before giving me a half smile and driving away. I hope Logan feels better by tomorrow.

I walk into my bedroom and slip off my new shirt so I will still be able to wear it tomorrow. I grab my pajama shirt on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I should really do my homework, but exhaustion has caught up to me, all I want to do is fall into bed. I’ll just set my alarm to get me up an hour earlier tomorrow morning before school.

I lean my midsection up close to the bathroom mirror so I can analyze the cut on my side. I almost don’t see it. I know it’s impossible, but I swear it’s smaller than it was when I cleaned it earlier. It doesn’t look much worse than a paper cut. How could I be in so much pain and lose so much blood over a cut this tiny? I am obviously a huge wimp; it could explain why Logan never seems to be in as much pain as me when using our power.

I look over my wound for a couple more seconds, expecting miraculous answers. Receiving none, I slip on my pajama shirt and brush my teeth before getting into my bed. Maybe things will make more sense after a good night’s sleep.