Gifted Ones

Chapter 1 Haven

The first time I see the woman, I don't think anything of it. It's normal for people to sit outside restraints, right? But a lot of time has passed, and I'm starting to feel uneasy. It isn't the way she looks that makes me nervous, though. With her black jeans, long blond hair, and nondescript face she could be anyone just passing on the street. However, this particular Jane Doe looks at everyone with slight suspicion, examining every customer who steps inside as if she's looking for something very specific. It's odd, the watching, but odder still is the fact that she simply doesn't move. I'd been keeping tabs on her for the better part of an hour, and she hasn't done anything at all. She has no phone, no magazine, no laptop, nothing. She doesn't come inside and she never stands up from that bench by the double doors.

But that isn't what really sets me on edge. It's the fact that no matter how many people come into Bubba's BBQ, and no matter how crowded the tables get, this woman's gaze always comes back to my parents. Every time, like the point of a compass. Five people come in, she'll look them up and down, then never look their way again. But every few minutes I'll turn to see her staring right at my mom and dad, eyes intense and calculating, like some kind of cop scrutinizing a suspicious person. I don't like it, not at all.

I lean back in the cushy red booth seat, taking another quick peek out the window. But this time, her eyes bore right into mine. Hurriedly, I redirect my gaze to the floor.

"Haven?" my mom asks. "Are you alright?"

"That woman outside is staring at us," I tell her immediately. I can't dismiss it any more.

Both of my parents turn to look. "What woman?" my Father asks after a minute.

I glance towards the window again, but she's no where to be found. The woman hadn't moved for what seemed like forever, but now she's gone. "Never mind, it's nothing," I say, shaking my head. How strange.

"So," Mom asks, turning back around with a concerned frown. "How was school?" I shrug; chool is always the same.

"Did you get a good grade on that math test?" Dad interjects, pushing his blond hair back from his forehead. I groan dramatically. What a way to kill what was left of my good mood.

"I got a C on it. Even after all that time I spent studying."

Mom frowns. "You really shouldn't cram before a test. If you're having trouble in math you should ask Amber to tutor you."

"Amber promised she'd help when I need it, and I don't. I have a C+ average and I can raise it to a B on our next unit. Don't worry about it. She told me it's easy." Amber's my workaholic best friend who finds perverse pleasure in finding the value of cos (a-b)if sin a=4/7 for π/2≤ a ≤π and cos b=-3/7 for π≤ b ≤ 3π/2. I hate math with a passion and would rather lose a finger than spend an extra hour after school working on it. Besides, the rest of my grades are A's and upper level B's anyway. I actually have interest in my other classes. Math, however, not so much.

Mom seems ready to argue, but is interrupted by the ringing of my dad's phone. He holds up a finger, putting the device to his ear. I internally sigh in relief. My Dad is a 9th grade science teacher, so he gets parent calls rather frequently. Mom and I keep quiet while he's taking them. Hopefully some kid with a failing science grade just saved me from math tutoring.

"Hello?" he asks. There is a pause. I watch as the color drains from my Dad's face and his green eyes widen. "Who is this?" he asks. There is another pause. I wonder what they said to illicit such a reaction. Did one of his dropout students break into the storage room and steal the rock samples as some idea of a joke?

He turns to my mom and whispers something in her ear. I don't catch any of the words, but Mom inhales sharply and looks toward the window, her face paling to the same shade as my dad's. She puts her lips to his ear and whispers something back.