Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)

Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1) Page 38

“He’s getting desperate. He wants to know without a shadow of a doubt which college he’ll do the best at.”

I want to punch something or cry, but I refuse to do either in front of Bobby. “I can’t tell him. Doesn’t he get that?”

“You could. If you extend your ability.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“Advanced mind control. You should learn it. You could do so much with your gift.”

“And risk losing all my power? No, thanks.” I slide my feet forward, leaving a dark pattern on the carpet. “Is he using her too? Laila?” Is our lifelong friendship ruined over some guy’s inability to pick a college? “Or does he really like her?”

“I’m not sure what he wants from Laila.”

“So is that what Duke does? Teaches people how to extend their abilities?”

He blows air between his lips as if offended. “No. That’s what I do. He’s just one of my students.”

“Why? What’s the point?”

“Each person I teach teaches me a little something as well. It’s like I’m able to gain a little bit of each of their powers. Did you know that before our abilities become stable, they’re volatile? Our powers come out in shorter, stronger bursts than in adults. It’s why they don’t like us attempting to advance our abilities so young. They want them to stabilize first. But it seems the stronger a burst of power, the more I can glean from it.”

An uneasiness creeps into my chest. “You can take people’s powers?”

“Not take them. Just borrow a little bit of them.”

“How? I thought you manipulated mass.”

“Energy, Addie, has a mass. Your energy hangs around you; sometimes it’s as thin as the air, but sometimes it’s dense and malleable.”

I stand. “Your phone is probably charged enough to use by now.”

“Do you know what emotion triggers strong, dense bursts of a person’s energy?”

I drop the bottle, and water splatters the bottom of my jeans. I run and dive for the door, managing to shove the slider across, and push my shoulder against the frame, waiting for it to free me. The palm pad next to the door gives a triple beep accompanied by a red flash.

“No.” I bang on the pad, not knowing the security code.

“I’m surprised you didn’t see this coming, Addie.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me away from the door, relocking it. He’s stronger than I thought possible, considering his average stature. “If you can’t even see your own perilous future, you could really benefit from one of my sessions,” he says calmly.

I remember he said his parents were upstairs asleep, so I let out a scream so loud, he has to clamp a hand over my mouth. “Listen, I can force you to be quiet, like Poison did out there. Is that what you want?”

I shake my head no.

“Good, because I don’t want that either. It limits my ability to do much more than control you.”

When nobody stirs upstairs, I know he lied to me about his parents. We are alone. “So you taught Poison how to extend his ability then? Took a piece of his nervous-system control. Did you give him my phone number?”

He loosens his grip on me, and I slide to the floor. He doesn’t answer my questions.

“What do you want from me?”

“I thought I made that obvious. I would like just a little piece of your Clairvoyance. I have no idea how it will enhance my ability, but I know it will.”

“You’re messing with things you shouldn’t. What if you damage your mind?”

“How sweet of you to worry.” He stands above me and runs his hand down my hair, then takes the dyed blue chunk between two fingers. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He pulls on my hair until I stand.

“And then what?”

“And then I either convince you this never happened, or you become too sad to go on.”

This has to be a Search. I’m in a Search. I try to test out that theory, and when only a static buzz enters my mind, I’m convinced I’m right. I’m going to be fine. Soon I will be done with this horrible vision, snap out of my Search, and everything will be okay. I would never choose this future. I let the only thoughts keeping me halfway sane loop through my mind like they are playing on an old movie reel.

“Addie, concentrate. Try to Search the future now.”

I lay my hands flat on the kitchen table. “Why should I?”

He’s sitting across from me. “Do you really want to play mind games with me?”

“Duke is going to be angry with you for doing this.”

He laughs. “Duke is elbow deep in his own secrets, don’t you think? He hardly has a right to judge.”

If I can just keep him talking, I know I can figure out a way to escape. “So he doesn’t know about your little project? I thought you were best friends. Have you been stealing bits of his ability too? Show me how it works. Move something.”

He gives a low laugh that chills me to the bone. “Move something? Because that’s what Duke does? You are so naive.”

Bobby’s phone chimes. It’s sitting on the counter, not plugged into any sort of charger. Maybe I am naive. His chair lets out a moan as it scrapes along the tile. He picks up the phone and looks at the screen. With a chuckle he starts to read aloud, Hey, Bobby, have you seen Addie? Her car is out front. I think I might be in trouble. He looks up at me. “Is he in trouble, Addie?”

I don’t answer.

“Do you know what’s funny? If he had called me, he might’ve heard you in the background, but because he texted me, there’s no chance of that.” He turns his attention back to the phone. “No, Duke,” he says as his fingers move over the keys. “I haven’t seen her. You know she doesn’t talk to me. Maybe she saw Laila’s truck parked in front of your house. It was the first thing I noticed. Bad luck.”

If he had called, he would have heard me. I’m hung up on those words. Duke and I have been practicing Thought Placement, but my mistrust of him lately has slowed my progress. One time, in my frustration, I told him that I would just call him if I needed him. We both thought that was pretty funny. I’m not laughing now.

I focus all my mind power on feeling Duke’s energy; he’s right across the street. I can do this. I picture pushing the words I’m at Bobby’s. Help toward him … into him. The words seem to tumble around in my brain just like they did sometimes when I practiced, when Duke would look at me and say, “Are you even trying?”

“I’m trying,” I say through my teeth.

Bobby turns toward me. “Good. You’re finally on board?”

“I hate you.”

“Strong feelings help enhance your ability. Work with those.”

I take a deep breath and try to relax. He’s not going to manipulate me. Someone help me. As if in answer to my call, there’s a pounding at the front door and then Laila’s voice. “Bobby, open up. I know Addie is in there and I have to talk to her. Addie, please don’t be mad at me. Just let me in.”

Bobby smiles. “Poor Laila. She thinks you’ve barricaded yourself in my house out of anger.”

I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t. Bobby is constricting my voice. So I narrow my eyes at him, wishing I had the power to shoot darts out of them instead of having my useless power. There’s more banging. Help me, I scream in my mind. From the back of the house there is a loud clatter, and Bobby’s face registers shock for a moment.

“Addie!” Duke’s voice is loud and coming from inside the house. “Are you in here?”

Bobby growls. “Need to change his access. I guess we’re turning this into a party.” He drags me out of the kitchen and shoves me onto the couch in the living room. Then he palms open the front door and pulls Laila inside. “Sit,” he orders her, pointing to the spot next to me. The moment she locks eyes with me, I know she’s not analyzing the situation properly. She sits down and says, “I’m so sorry, Addie. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.”

By this time Duke is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “What’s wrong, Addie?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” Laila says with a grunt. “She saw me at your house, Duke.”

He maintains my stare. “Is that it? Because I heard you. You were asking for help. That was you, right?”

My eyes dart to Bobby, who still hasn’t loosened my tongue, hoping Duke will get the hint.

“Well, say something already,” Laila says.

“She told me,” Bobby says, clearing his throat, “that she’s too angry with the both of you to talk right now. She didn’t want you to know she was here.”

I remember Bobby saying it was hard to control me and do other things at the same time, so while he’s talking I try my hardest to break free of his influence over me. If teenagers have stronger bursts of powers than adults do, then surely our ability to combat those powers is stronger too. It’s Bobby, it’s Bobby, it’s Bobby, help, I say over and over again in my head as I try to break free.

Duke marches up to Bobby and grabs him by the collar. “What have you done to her?”

“No more than what you’ve been doing.”

He slams Bobby against the wall with a vibrating thud, and I break free of his control. My muscles are so tense that the second I’m released, I spring forward. My mind must’ve still been screaming as well, because as I hit the floor I yell out, “Help.”

Duke drops Bobby and comes rushing to my side. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me. Get him.” I point, but Bobby isn’t where Duke left him. Before I have a chance to even wonder what wall he slithered through, he is standing behind Laila, who is holding a knife to her own throat, a look of panic in her eyes.

“Addie,” Bobby says. His eyes are like fire. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. Why did you have to call him here?”

“Laila, what are you doing?” Duke asks, still squatting beside me.

“First she is going to Erase the last hour of both of your memories. Then she is going to kill herself, because her father is such a loser. Right, Laila?”

She nods, and a small trickle of dark blood runs down her pale skin.

“Bobby, you don’t have to do this. We’re not going to tell anyone.”

“Now why don’t I believe you, Duke?”

Despite the situation, I feel a sense of calm come over me that helps me analyze things. “Duke,” I say under my breath, “do something.”

“I’m trying.”

“Can’t you knock the knife out of her hand or send the couch flying at Bobby’s face? Do something.”

Bobby lets out a low, chilling laugh. “Yeah, Duke. Do something,” he says in a high-pitched impersonation of me. “Make something move.” He picks up a picture frame from the bookcase next to him. “Move anything.” He hurls the picture toward us, and Duke holds up his hand to block it. It ricochets off his palm and hits my leg. It lands on the floor between us, the glass splintered.