Eternal Paradox - WhoaaNicole (best ebook reader under 100 TXT) 📗

“So… where‘s the party?” I asked, crunching on a granola bar. They were my ‘drug of choice’, as my mother often told me. It was true, I did have an addiction.

“Trent‘s place,” Connor replied matter-of-factly, as if I wouldn’t want to know my whereabouts on Saturday night.

We were at Connor’s house, settled on his sofa. Melora, Connor’s four-year-sister, bounded through the living room like a wildcat. I watched her tumble to the floor countless times, stand up, and begin her dash again. I loved Melora like my own sister; I’d watched her grow from the day she was born.

“Mel, calm down,” Connor chastised. He didn’t enjoy babysitting his sister very much, especially when she acted like this. I didn’t mind at all; being an only child made you appreciate younger souls a little more.

“Why?” asked Melora, a puzzled look developing on her face.

“Because you might hurt yourself,” Connor answered, almost immediately. It was obvious he’d been through this before.

“Why?” the four-year-old sat down now, her plump rosy cheek resting in her hand.

“Because you don‘t listen to reason,” said her brother, an irritated smile decorating his face.

“Why?” Melora’s feet rested on the loveseat opposite us, her head hanging upside-down.

“Because Mom stood next to the microwave too much when you were in her tummy,” Connor said, still smiling.

I broke out in giggles, and choked on a raisin. Connor patted my back with one muscular arm, and it felt like he was trying to beat out of me.

After recovering, I attempted to speak. “That was rude,” I got out.

“What are you talking about? You almost died on my living room floor, but I‘m rude for saving your life,” Connor joked.

“Not that,” I said, my granola bar now sitting on the coffee table, safely away from me. “What you said about Mel.”

“Oh, that? She wouldn‘t remember it if I told her she was adopted. That kid has some serious energy, and a tiny attention span to match.” My best friend was right; his little sister was now in pursuit of their mother’s cat.

“I guess so… my family must look really boring in comparison to yours and Stella’s,” I added, amused. “But back to this party. We have to dress up?”

“Yep,” Connor replied, giving me a great smile. “I already talked to Stella, she said her sister‘s gonna fix you two up.”

Oh no. Claire had given Stella a Halloween makeover last year. She’d come to school as a self-proclaimed “flower child”, but that little number made Stella’s casual outfits look like they’d be worn in a convent.

Connor noticed my unease; he was content one moment, and entertained the next.

“You know, you don‘t have to go through with everything she wants you to wear. There‘ll be more than enough half-naked girls to hit on,” Connor consoled me.

I laughed again, and fell into his arms. Connor could cheer me up without even trying. It had been that way for ten years now, from the time I pushed him down the slide in the third grade, breaking his arm. I signed his cast the following day.

For the next decade, Connor and I bonded through just about everything: his parent’s divorce, his mother’s remarrying, and the discovery of my empathy. I decided to tell him about it when we started high school, but he decided against it.

“I don‘t need to know all your little lady-problems, Adele,” Connor told me. We were settled in the same room today. “Besides, everybody has that one secret. You don’t have to pour everything out. You don‘t have to be any different.”

What he didn’t understand was that I did have to be different. But I didn’t want to be.

By far, my favorite memory with Connor was playing Monopoly. It was our favorite pastime, and no one else we knew had the patience to actually finish a game. We played every other weekend for years, until his football duties didn’t allow it anymore. I didn’t mind; I knew there were better things to do than argue over colored paper.

Connor gave Melora a bowl of grapes that calmed her down long enough to watch a movie. Mel and I decided on Aladdin, overthrowing Connor’s request for Peter Pan.

We all curled up on the couch, and enjoyed each other’s company. Then Connor asked a question that I would’ve rather left unanswered.

“So, how was your date last night?”

4

I stayed silent for a moment, but Connor’s curiosity influenced me greatly. I decided to tell him the truth; what else could I say?

“I kissed him,” I said bluntly. I knew Connor, and he wouldn’t want me to beat around the bush.

I saw his jaw set out of the corner of my eye. He kept his hazel eyes on the television, and I waited for him to speak. He didn’t.

“No tongue,” I said apologetically. I tried to block out his feelings, but they came crashing down on me. I grimaced, anticipating a wave of fury.

But instead of the jealousy or anger that I’d expected, I found myself drowning in frustration. Connor’s frustration.

At himself.

I brushed the chestnut hair out of my best friend’s face, and he smiled at me. Now I was really confused. But so grateful; he’d understood my choice to be honest quicker than I could sneeze.

I threw myself at the football player like we were eight-year-olds again. I hugged him so tightly, his back cracked. Then he hugged me back, and I thought I might crack.

“Ow,” I managed to get out, but there was no use.

“Group hug!” Melora sprang to her feet, and wrapped her arms around my leg.

I cursed at Connor through my teeth, making sure Mel wouldn’t hear, and he slowly loosened his grip around me.

I glanced at my cell phone, unsure of the time.

“Six-thirty?!” I yelled. “I gotta go!”

“Time flies when you‘re group hugging,” Connor smiled, eating Melora’s grapes.

“Time flies when you‘re getting crushed,” I retorted playfully. “Bye, you two.”

I got into my car and raced home. I’d spent four hours at Connor’s house, without even touching my enormous load of homework.

My parents were both at home today, no doubt packing for their Californian adventure. A small part of me wanted to tag along. California wasn’t landlocked like Nevada, so I’d be able to visit the Pacific Ocean there. I’d never been to a beach before; the Mojave desert wasn’t home to very many.

As a child, I imagined immersing my toes into the cool waters, and spying on the multi-colored fish that called the ocean home. I dreamed of crafting sandcastles that glittered with seashells, and braving huge cerulean swells of saltwater. But dreams had to wait for now; they’d never gotten me anywhere, at any rate.

I climbed the stairs to my room, and tossed my bag on the floor. Folded neatly on my bed was a stack of t-shirts and a couple of skirts. I sighed. I was three months shy of legal adulthood, and my mother still tried to do my laundry.

I laid back on the four-poster bed, and Nolan came to my mind. I longed to find out why I couldn’t sense his emotions, why I couldn’t distinguish when he was lying. Kissing him had been a mistake. Not that I regretted it, but there was something about him that just wasn’t right…

And then it hit me. I knew exactly who to call. I dialed the familiar number into my cell phone, and hoped she would be able to put my mind to rest.

The phone rang twice, and my great-aunt answered, “Yes, Adele?”

“Honovi?” I asked. “How did you know it was me?”

“The Paiute people have their ways of determining identities,” the medicine woman told me cryptically. “One of them is Caller ID.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “How are you? And the rest of the tribe?”

“Alas, tragedy has stricken us,” she replied. “A young woman by the name of Naira has passed on to the next life. She was about your age.”

“Today? How?”

“Poison,” she spat. “An foreign poison. I’d never recognized it before. But this is not the reason you have requested to speak with me. What is it that you need?”

“You’re right. I just wanted to know… is it possible to come across someone that’s immune to my abilities?” I decided not to let her know I already had.

“You are able to determine the emotions and lies of every human being you come in contact with.” she said bluntly.

“Not to be rude, but are you sure?” This realization worried me more than anything.

“Do you question my knowledge?” The question wasn’t rude, only curious.

I backtracked. “Not at all, Aunt Honovi. So every human being?”

“Yes, child. Every human being. If you ever come across a living creature that is neither animal nor plant life, but is not able to be influenced through empathy, you get away. Your life may depend on it.”

“Okay. Thank you, Honovi,” I stammered after a slight pause. I hung up the phone, and sat on my bed.

If what Honovi said was true, Nolan was hiding a lot more than I’d anticipated. And the thought of it scared the hell out of me.

* * *

Friday wasn‘t very exciting. I waved my parents off before leaving for school and dealt with the bombardment of emotions that I’d become accustomed to. My psychology partner was missing in action again, which surprised me. Nolan told me he’d be at school. I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, and my revelation the night before left me with quite a few unanswered questions.

I stayed the night at Stella’s house; she’d told me about her sister’s plan to revamp our faces. Needless to say, I wasn’t excited. But the overload of chick flicks, soda, and happy vibes left me in a daze of acceptance.

Claire, Stella’s older sister, woke me up bright and early Saturday morning.

“Come on, night owl! Up, up, up, it’s Halloween! ” She yelled, throwing back the blankets and tickling my feet.

There was nothing else in the world I wanted more than an extra five minutes of sleep. But when it came to Claire, sleeping was a luxury that ended at 8:30 AM.

“How are you so hyper?” I groaned, my eyes still closed. “It‘s Saturday!”

“Coffee, Adele!” Claire answered happily. “Lots and lots of black coffee!”

I finally gave up. I took a quick shower ate a bowl of oatmeal. Changing into a tee shirt and yoga pants, I became a blank canvas for Claire to transform.

We washed, conditioned, rinsed, and repeated. I wondered if this was Cheesecake’s regular treatment. After all, he was covered in hair. Poor dog.

Almost on cue, the Yorkshire terrier in question appeared. He sported a lime green tutu and matching booties. Stella walked into the living room behind him. The sleepiness in her eyes made me envious.

“Hey, why does she get to sleep in?” I asked Claire, who was smearing a cream-colored moisturizer onto my face.

She sighed. “To be honest,” Claire said, smiling,