Smoke

11: Vision

I sat on the bus, thinking about my day. My mind skipped over everything but drama class. It stuck. His eyes, blurred and elsewhere, were radiating in my mind. I barely noticed as he sat down, thinking too deeply about his distant expression in drama class.

His eyes met mine, full and present, and brought me back to right now, to sitting on the bus next to him, waiting to go home.

"Hey." He said, smiling quickly, pulling his backpack onto his lap.
"Hi." I said back quietly.

We were quiet, just sitting there, letting the silence of our voices, of our thoughts, turn the air to a comfortable feeling of calm and noiselessness between us. A bubble of stillness, while the rest of the bus was loud and shaking and annoying.

"So," I broke it, looking at him, my voice going off automatically. He looked back at me, slightly startled, but looking relieved to have a conversation between us start again. "What happened in drama class?" I asked warily, my voice low in a hush. His look of relief blew away, replaced with a mostly blank, slightly embarrassed face.

"Oh." He responded. He paused, breathing, looking up at me then away nervously. "That was my power showing through." He said.
As much as he talked about others using their powers, about me and my power, he seemed like he didn't like talking about his own, shown by his hand raking through his hair, by his eyes looking away and around quickly.

"Sorry." I felt bad bringing it up, about to just drop the conversation.

"No, it's," He rolled his eyes at himself. "It's alright. It happens sometimes, with certain words or phrases. Or topics. Any historical topic, really." He said, his words clipped at the ends. He sounded out of breath.

"What, uh," I started asking, but stopped, nervous and uncomfortable for him. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. But he was looking at me, and waited for me to continue. I swallowed down my guilt for making him upset. "What did you see?" I asked, remembering the announcement the teacher made.

He looked uncomfortable talking about it, but then there was a look in his eyes. They were wide, bright, remembering whatever it was.

"I saw the play. Being performed." He looked up at me again, a small smile growing on his face. It made me smile back. "It was amazing. The costumes, the lines, the building." He shook his head, getting a far off look again.

He stopped talking for a moment, and I nudged him gently. Oliver looked back up at me. "Oh, sorry." He chuckled at himself quietly. "I just started thinking about it. It just looks amazing there." He said, breathless. "Or, looked. I don't know, it's probably not as great anymore. The Globe Theatre, I mean." He shook his head, his eyes dulling. "Anyway, yeah. That's what happened in drama class. Sorry." He said, turning back to looking forwards, and the conversation ended. I looked out the window, waiting to go home, trying to imagine what he saw, but I couldn't.