LIGHTNING AND THUNDER

(2) Levina

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!! IM NOT A TELEPATH LIKE LEVINA, I NEED TO KNOW....I PROMISE I WONT BITE....HARD. :D

LEVI                                                                                                                                                                         

 After Ms. Hinigan’s history class, Ms. Daphne’s home economics and Mr. Goods’ woodshop class, I trotted into the cafeteria and I sat in my usual seat, at my usual table with a lightheaded feeling. Sara and Cleo sat across from me, Sara had damp hair and she had an infectious aurora of pure happiness. Cleo seemed to have a subdued emotion of sheer jealousy. I saw him walk into the cafeteria; he brought a wave of cool that I couldn’t describe to anyone else. I waved my hand in the air, and when he spotted me his smile lit up the whole room. He sat next to me and Sara’s gaze dropped to him, and she cut off their conversation like a conversation between balloons when a pin would drop.

 He looked at me and he rested his hand on my hand, lying on the table. Sara’s eyes grew wide simultaneously with Cleo, and they both quivered with fear, Henry gave a small nod and they both picked up her conversation with Cleo, with caution, like a lion was on the loose.

“Want to go get some lunch?”

“Sure,”

“I have a car, wanna go grab some pizza?”

“I’d love to.”

 During lunch we were allowed to leave school grounds for an hour for those keen enough to avoid the schools food.

 He stood and pulled me to my feet by my hand. He wove me through the crowd of people until we were outside. When he held my hand I felt a strong sense of security, the electricity surged between us. He pulled out a small key-ring filled with only a few keys and a small dragon key-chain. He clicked the automatic button and I heard a car horn beep and I spotted a beautiful gold and silver flamed Ferrari. The Ferrari was the most expensive car in the whole lot. He tugged me along and he parked me at the passenger side while he clicked open the butterfly wing doors. I slid into the leather seats and the minty smell emanating from the car’s interior was wafting around in my head. I pushed down the door and he sat into the driver’s side, putting the key in the lock and the growl of the engine made me feel like my heart had accelerated with the engine.

The car was swift and starting a conversation would have to wait until we were eating. I stared into the streets and unthinkingly laid my hand palm up on my large roomy seat, Henry had no hesitation to place his over mine. I smiled at him, as he wrapped his fingers through mine. We arrived in a small pizzeria. He quickly closed his door and was opening mine, extending his hand to help me. He lead me inside and I was then bombarded with the aromas of real Italian bread, not the cheap store kind, but the real strait-from-Italy kind, with the cheese and pepperoni smells wafting from the kitchens where two big men with bald heads and big black mustaches were standing welcoming Henry. Henry obviously knew these men, and he was treated like a friend. He spoke in fluent Italian, I heard my name intertwined with the mess of jumbling words, Henry gestured his hand to me and the men smiled and took my hand and each kissed the back. I said

“Hello, my name is Levi.” I said politely.

The men spoke with very, very heavy accents.

“We know who you are, but you are a strange one, not asking who we are.”

Henrys jaw tightened and he held my hand.

The men instantly realized that was a mistake and they each said very fast, the first one with the large beak nose and the fat black mustache that hung over his lips said

“My name is Moro, and this is—” He slapped the shoulder of the man next to him, he had beady eyes and a mustache, while it was thin and didn’t hang over his mouth, it seemed to spread over the width of his face “Antonio” Antonio said hi in a very deep voice that rung in the room.

“What can we get ya?” Moro asked

I tried to get a good read on them, but their thoughts were blurred and uncatchable. It was like someone whispering in their sleep. I rejected the thought of reaching out and touching their temples and trying to get a better read on them. I had never experienced anything like them, maybe once or twice, but these men’s heads were a snarled mess of confusion, too tiresome to pick through, except Henry of course, but he was a whole different barrel of fish. All other persons thoughts would flow in a continuous pattern, sometime, differing on the person they would be flashing thoughts and quickly  and careful and sluggish. Sometimes not even thoughts at all, just pictures, telling a story.

Henry propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me and said

“I’m just payin’ you get whatever you want.”

He smiled and I said

“Small cheese pizza with two cokes,”

He smiled larger and looked to the two guys who were squeezing through the kitchen door. He led me through the clustered jumble of tables and led me to a booth in the far back at a sunny window. I sat across from him and he just watched me lean back my head and dip into his head, I felt refreshed when he whispered

“I know what you are”

 I jolted out of his mind and I grew rigid. I was pulled back into a memory of horror from my child hood.

My mom stood plastered to the hall way walls with a knife secured in hand. I wasn’t as in control of my gift then as I am now and I could hear the fear and terror and hurt in her head. I extended my hand and said in a quavering voice Mommy, what’s wrong? She screamed at me Get outta my head you demon child! She ran at me and she blindly stabbed in the air. My father was gone at work for the day. My mother wrung her small bony hand around my wrist and I saw her hollow cheeks and her wild deranged eyes. My mother’s mind was a snarly knot twisted with anger, hatred and confusion. She plotted her next move and I saw her bringing the knife down through my heart and releasing the demon child, sacrificing me in the end, but no longer having to deal with me picking through her head, exposing her darkest secrets, like that she had been stealing half of my father’s paycheck to satisfy her need for cocaine, or the man she had killed, and buried down by the river. I wrenched my hand away and I screamed at my mom Please Mommy! Please, please don’t! Mommy!She ignored me and she swung the knife down. I darted to the left but my mom just followed my motions and she sunk the knife into my shoulder. Although she didn’t pierce my heart, I laid on the floor screaming clutching my shoulder. My mother half screamed and laughed, fear overtook me and started to swell over me like a tsunami. I laid there and tried to let death take me but all that came was my father. He stepped through the door and he rolled me over, yelling at my mother, she yelled back and she handed him a knife, he looked to the knife to me and he threw it to the floor. My dad walked out of the house and slammed the door, stepping over me before he did so. I used what little energy I had and I reached out to probe his mind. I found he was calling an ambulance and the police. I smiled and I grabbed the knife from my shoulder and I yanked. I screamed out as I tried to staunch the flow of blood. My mom ran in with another knife and as she tried to stab me with more accuracy, clearly enraged at her inaccuracy the first time. I took the knife from my shoulder, bloodied from my own bode, and I plunged it into her heart. She screamed and blood spurt out of her mouth and onto my face. She fell backwards and took me down with her.

I never forgave myself for killing my own mom. After the police had burst through the door and they assessed what had happened they pried me off of my mom, with me pounding on my mom’s un-rising chest. They saw my stab wound and they gave me medical attention, then questioning me at the hospital. After I told my story, they found I was the innocent one and they called my Aunt Siv, my closest relative after my father wouldn’t reclaim me. My Aunt Siv was an absent minded, independent, bubble-headed person, who was never at the house and she when she was around the house she was very anti-social. I never got to have the mom I wanted. And the memory started over, and over and over.