DoubleDown V (14 page)

Robin held out a folded scrap of paper. “Ms. Young left this, said to give it to you when you came down looking for her.”

Karen took the paper, muttered a “thank you,” then wandered outside, staring at the note with a perplexed twist to her lips.  Unfolding the paper, she read:

“Karen, I know you need to talk. I have an appointment this afternoon but I do want to be here for you. If you can, meet me around five at the bridge near the Swamp Rabbit Trail. We can talk, and you’ll still have time to be back at your dorm by seven. Oh, and if you’re wondering how I know all this...well, I think you already know.”

*  *  *

Karen arrived at the bridge fifteen minutes early, but Penelope was waiting. Dressed in faded jeans and a loose-fitting blouse, the librarian was leaning on the handrail, staring down at the creek that trickled beneath the bridge. Her graying hair was loose and fluttering in the breeze like Medusa’s serpentine locks. She saw Karen approaching and smiled, straightening.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Well, after that note you left me, I couldn’t possibly stay away.”

“I thought it might peak your interest.”

“Consider it peaked. So how did you know that I needed to talk and needed to be back at the dorm by seven?”

Penelope stood very still for a moment, staring intently at the girl. “How do you think?”

“Well...if I say what I’m thinking, it’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me.”

“Are you...a witch?”

“Depends on what you mean by the word. If you got your idea of witches from The Wizard of Oz—”

“I think I’m a witch,” Karen blurted.

Penelope did not respond right away. Finally, when Karen was thinking she could stand the silence no longer and might scream just to break it, the librarian lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile.

“What can you do?”

Karen took a deep breath. She had never spoken of these things to anyone, not even Brittany. “Well, I can make things move.”

“Telekinesis?”

“That sounds so Carrie, but sort of.  Only...it’s not that focused, nothing I can do at will. It’s not like I can think, ‘I wish I had the TV remote’ and it flies across the room into my hand or anything like that. It usually happens when I’m very upset and things just start shaking and tumbling. When I was sixteen, I was really upset because someone had spray-painted ‘Bow-Wow’ on my locker, and I ended up sending my stereo crashing through my bedroom window. My parents grounded me over that one; I couldn’t exactly explain what had really happened.”

“So you can’t control it?”

“Not really, though I have been making some progress at stopping it once it gets started, but it takes a lot of concentration and energy. Often leaves me wiped out.”

“Is that all you can do? I mean, can you...see into people?”

“I can’t read minds, if that’s what you’re asking, but I often know what someone is feeling, their emotions, if that makes any sense.”

“Makes perfect sense. And how long have you been aware of these gifts?”

“I guess I’ve always been able to sense people’s emotions, but I never realized there was anything unusual about it. Used to just think it was empathy, you know. As for making stuff move...I guess I was around thirteen or so when it started.”

“That’s pretty typical, actually. Was the same for me. Tell me, have you tried anything else?”

“What do you mean? Like spells?”

“Someone with your gifts should prove very adept at harnessing the unseen forces of nature.”

Karen leaned her back against the railing and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to someone about magic.”

Penelope grimaced as if tasting something foul. “I’m not a big fan of that word.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what this is?”

“First of all, if you do use the word, it should always be spelled m-a-g-i-c-k. Magic without the k is parlor tricks, David Copperfield stuff. Magick with the k denotes real power. But here’s the thing: If you were to take someone from sometime in the past and bring them to the present, much of what they saw around them would seem like magick. Even simple electric lights would seem like some kind of sorcery.”

“So you’re saying that what we perceive as magick today....”

“In the future may be understood as a perfectly natural phenomenon. I believe that everyone has latent abilities beyond normal human perception, only in some of us the abilities are not so latent.”

“What are your abilities?”

“Same as yours basically. My telekinesis is a bit more developed, I can definitely control it, but then I’ve been working at it a lot longer than you.”

Here Penelope glanced around to make sure there was no one else in the vicinity. Then in the creek several rocks about the size of baseballs rose into the air, reaching the height of the bridge and hovering for a half a minute before dropping back into the water.

Karen stood in silence for several moments, her jaw hanging loose like that of a broken Nutcracker. “Wow,” she said, her voice issuing softly on her breath. “That’s amazing. How did you manage that?”

“Concentration.”

“Simple as that?”

“Well, not entirely that simple, no. I could teach you if you wanted.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Honestly, it has been a while since I had a friend I could discuss these types of things with.”

“I’ve never had anyone I could discuss these things with.”

“Now you do.”

Karen smiled at Penelope, and the librarian smiled back. A tingling warmth spread throughout Karen’s chest. She felt for the first time that she wasn’t alone, that there was finally someone who understood her.

“We’ll talk more later,” Penelope said. “I know you need to get ready for your date.”

Karen opened her mouth, closed it, frowned, then said, “You knew I needed to talk, you knew I’m meeting someone at seven...can you read minds?”

“I can’t hear your thoughts word for word, if that’s what you mean, but I can get impressions, images, certain insights into what people are thinking and feeling. Don’t worry, I don’t abuse it. I’m not constantly peeking into people’s heads. In this case, your thoughts concerned me and therefore practically called out to me.”

“God, I have so much to learn. I could cancel my plans tonight; we could talk some more.”

“Don’t be silly, there’s plenty of time for us to talk,” Penelope said, placing an arm around Karen’s shoulder and walking with her toward campus. “You have fun with your new friend tonight. I get the sense that he could be someone very special in your life.”

Heat suffused Karen’s cheeks. “I just met him, don’t even know much about him yet.”

“What do you sense about him?”

“That’s he’s a nice guy, but very lonely, very lost. Just like me.”

Karen glanced at the librarian and thought, And just like you. Then instantly hoped Penelope hadn’t picked up on it. But it was true; Karen sensed a loneliness wafting off the librarian. Karen suspected that Penelope knew what it meant to be ostracized from those she once considered friends, and she got the feeling the librarian needed her as much as she needed the librarian.

As Karen left her dorm room and headed downstairs to meet Bobby, she was convinced he wouldn’t show. Then in the next instant she was convinced he would, and that seemed to terrify her just as much...if not more. She’d put on her favorite outfit, a dark blue flowing skirt and a lighter blue short-sleeve blouse. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of the neck, and she’d applied a shimmery lip gloss. Before she left, Brittany had grudgingly complimented her.

When she stepped out of the dorm, she spotted Bobby a few feet away under a magnolia tree, staring up at the blossoms. She watched him for a moment, smiling at the almost childlike curiosity and wonder on the young man’s face. Finally she called out to him.

Several people strolling the quad glanced her way and frowned, but Bobby continued his intense study of the magnolia blossoms. Karen crossed the distance between them and was just reaching out to tap him on the shoulder when he turned quickly and backpedaled, as if afraid of her touch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “I called your name, but you didn’t hear.”

“Lost in thought,” Bobby said with an embarrassed laugh.

Karen glanced up at the branches above them. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“When I was younger, I used to love the smell of magnolia blossoms.”

“You talk like you’re an old man.”

“Well, an old soul...you know, like you said when we first met.”

The two stood there, staring at one another, then glancing up at the tree, then down at the grass, then back at each other. Finally Karen said, “So if you can tear yourself away from the magnolia, would you like to come up to my room?”

“Sure.”

Bobby followed her back to Poteat and up the stairs to her room. She had meticulously tidied up—even Brittany’s side of the room—but she still scanned to make sure there were no bras or boxes of tampons in view.

“Nice room,” Bobby said, looking around. “Roomy.”

“Yeah, I was surprised. I’d always heard freshman housing was crappy, but this place is pretty nice.”

“Nicer than any room I’ve ever had.”

Karen sensed that sadness emanating from him again. She was curious about his homelife, his family, but it was too soon to be probing into such sensitive areas.

Taking a seat on one end of her bed, Karen said, “You don’t have to stand all night, you know.”

Instead of coming and sitting next to her on the bed as she expected, he just sat cross-legged on the floor. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended by this or not, considering that she didn’t know if this was an actual date or not. She was having trouble adapting to the ambiguity.

“So you want to watch a movie or anything?”

Bobby shrugged. “We can just talk for a while, if you want.”

Talk, sure, great...if her mind wasn’t emptying of thought as quickly as water from a tub. If only she could put the stopper in the drain.

“So,” she said, “have you always lived in Greenville?”

“No, my mom moves around a lot. We’ve been here...almost a year now, I think.”

 “And your father...where is he?”

“I’ve never met my father.”

“Oh,” was all Karen said.

A subject change was in order.

“So let’s just get the clichéd questions out of the way. What’s your major?”

“I don’t really have one.”

“Undecided, huh? Well, join the club.”

“You don’t know what you want to do with your life?”

“Oh, I know what I want to do with my life...I just don’t know what I want to do to make money so I can do what I want to do with my life. I’m not entirely sure that sentence made any sense.”

Bobby smiled, the slight curling of his lips transforming him. Lines melted, his eyes brightened, and the brooding boy became a stunning young man. “Made perfect sense...in a nonsensical sort of way. So what is it you want to do with your life that’s not going to put food on your table?”

“I’m almost embarrassed to say.”

“Come on, you can’t tease me like that. You can tell me anything.”

Karen considered this for a moment. She felt she could tell Bobby anything, which was ridiculous since she’d just met him. Perhaps it was just a reaction to feeling she’d lost her best and only true friend and she was desperate to replace Brittany with someone else....

“I want to be a writer,” she said, tensing as if expecting a punch.

“That’s awesome. What do you write, short stories?”

“Poetry. I know, how utterly prosaic, the lonely college girl who writes angsty poems in the wee hours of the morning. Could I be more stereotypical?”

“Karen, I’d say you’re anything but stereotypical.”

“Thanks, but you’ve already admitted you don’t get out much.”

She meant it as a lighthearted joke, but she could tell by the way his eyes darkened that she’d said the wrong thing. She seemed to do that a lot; maybe it was another one of her gifts, one she’d like to return if she had the chance.

“So,” Bobby said, “can I read some of your poetry?”

Now it was Karen’s expression that darkened. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“It’s your passion, but you don’t want anyone to read what you write?”

“It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“It sounds silly, but it’s like...well, if I just keep my poems to myself, I can pretend that I’m really great at it, an undiscovered talent. But if I start letting people read my stuff, there’s a chance I’ll find out I’m not really very good.”

“I get that, but isn’t it better to know. Plus, getting feedback from people is the best way to improve and grow as an artist, don’t you think?”

“Fine, if you want to bring logic and sense into the discussion.” Karen laughed. “Maybe sometime soon. What about you?”

“Oh, I don’t write poetry.”

“No, I mean what do you want to do with your life?”

Bobby shrugged, and she detected fear, sorrow, and hope warring inside him. “Haven’t given it much thought. Truthfully, until recently I didn’t believe I had much of a future ahead of me.”

“I know what you mean. College has a way of opening up a world of possibilities, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that.”