A Time to Live

Chapter 3 - Fluster

"Neat" is a bit of an understatement. Mostly I'm super inquisitive from the time she mends the mugs until the moment we leave the store. Question after question streams from my mouth about her and her brother after I question David's health. At least it sounds as if he is okay. His vitals are strong, and this Aria person watching over him can apparently communicate his thoughts while he's in this sleep. He just can't wake up.

When the patrons start to rouse, Jay ducks out to go wait by the car. Rook stays and pretends to be a customer as we drop the question-and-answer session and go into acting mode as customer and barista.

The groggy people are looking around from their seats as if they'd inadvertently dozed off. Most play it off as something embarrassing but not terrifying, like passing gas in an elevator—all except Eric, who's more fearful that something was done to him.

"What the hell?" His exclamation addresses no one in general.

I decide to treat him like the crazy idiot I always think he is. "Whoa, you okay, Eric?"

His eyes look at me as if to relay a resounding, Hell no!, and he tries to seek comfort and solidarity from his cronies. To his dismay, they all try to treat the scenario as an uncomfortable recollection of a fictitious memory they've simultaneously shared.

With no affirmation from his cohorts, Eric doesn't bother to stay put and endure the crazy looks they're getting from the people around the coffee shop. He stomps out, tipping over a chair and flinging the door wide open, as his cohorts try to covertly follow his lead.

Ally drifts out of the backroom with a dazed look of confusion. She's carrying the tray of cups that previously spilled and have since been reassembled. She must be pretending she sat down for a catnap in the back and is now ready for work. At least, that's my hope.

I give Rook a coffee she pretended to order. I've written on the side of her cup "off @ 7: meet @ my house @ 8", with the address below it.

The remainder of my shift is taken up with the normal amount of orders while I keep going over the answers Rook gave me in my head. Apparently, her ability can function to destroy as well as repair objects by snapping her fingers. The largest she's attempted deconstructing was a four-door sedan belonging to an ex-boyfriend. Her ability to put things back together is limited. Things with moving parts are pretty much out; she can mend solid objects only. And she needs a visual reference or to have seen an object whole before.

The last thing I learn is how she and Jay are variants of Eventuals. They have no real mental powers. They simply channel a form of telekinesis and use what they call – a tick. Jay hushes people to activate his ability, where Rook snaps her fingers.

As my cleaning duties get checked off and the closing staff comes in, I'm even more excited to leave work than usual. I really need to get home and fill Mo in before she meets Jay and, particularly, Rook for the first time.

I don't own a car. Mo and I relied on city transport when we lived in Lincoln Square, but Temple Falls is much smaller. Bus traffic is the only mass transit available. So, the normal crosstown, ten-minute venture now results in a thirty-minute commute while sitting next to some rather large and most times smelly individuals.

Since I'm not allowed to flash, I have to suffer this torment. This particular ride seems much longer than usual thanks to the lady who notices what I do for a living and proceeds to tell me how the coffee business is ruining our economy. It takes a lot of restraint, on my part, not to put a hand on her and shift her to any given sidewalk along our route. Instead, I decide not to give her my full attention after she starts telling me how buying coffee is funding drug cartels and terrorism.