Overpowered Read online

Oliver turned and watched the other students jogging around the field. They were grumpy and tense. No one was smiling. In total contrast to how contented and sociable people normally seemed.

  “So you think last night’s flash . . . ?” Oliver looked back at me, groping for understanding.

  “Pulse. It was more like a pulse.” I immediately recalled how it felt the exact moment when it hit me. The way my body vibrated. The experience forever scorched into my brain.

  Coach Lurrell blew his whistle loudly and angrily waved the students back into the gym. Oliver and I obediently left the track and headed toward the entrance.

  “You really think this pulse did a shake-and-bake with people’s minds?” Oliver was starting to take me seriously.

  “That’s not all.” My eyes drifted down to the ground. Oliver followed my gaze. A small brown-and-gold finch was lying on the grass in front of us. Dead. Just like those other birds I’d come across on the way to school. “I saw dozens of dead ones on my way to school.”

  We stepped around the dead finch and continued inside to the gym, neither of us saying another word. I could tell Oliver knew that something was definitely off too. Unfortunately, neither of us had the slightest clue about what that might be.

  • • •

  The rest of the morning was a big blur. While my physical body dutifully showed up for Spanish, my mind was somewhere else, endlessly replaying what had gone down the night before with Jackson and that freaky light show. The more I tried to make sense of it, the more questions I had that needed answering. Jackson was the key. I was convinced he knew a whole lot more than he had let on. I had to talk to him. But first I had to find him.

  During lunch I searched the entire school for Jackson. I started with the quad. He wasn’t hanging in his usual place under the old oak tree. Next I scoped out the cafeteria and the hallways. No Jackson. I even checked out the gym and library—not that I really thought he’d be hanging in either—and no Jackson. Nor was his car parked in the student parking lot. He really was like some kind of elusive ghost—nowhere to be found. No one seemed to know his whereabouts or much less care about him. I couldn’t help worrying that maybe something had happened to him after we’d parted ways the night before.

  • • •

  It was during seventh-period biology that Principal Hellinger made an announcement over the school PA system. Mr. Bluni, a lumbering teacher with an annoying habit of pacing up and down the aisles, was lecturing about the various ways genetic mutations occurred in the animal kingdom, when he was so rudely interrupted. Principal Hellinger rattled off a long list of students to report to the nurse’s office, when I thought I heard my name called out. I didn’t spring out of my chair like everyone else. I hadn’t been paying complete attention (my mind preoccupied with tracking down Jackson), so I wasn’t quite sure if I hadn’t just imagined hearing my name.

  “Are we waiting for an engraved invitation, Ms. Ashley?” Mr. Bluni snidely quipped. He peered at me over his tortoiseshell bifocals, arms crossed, impatient. He also had an equally pompous habit of using the royal “we.”

  “Sorry.” I quickly gathered my books and hustled out of the classroom, humiliated and irritated at his condescending attitude. Also a little mystified. What could the school nurse want with me, not to mention the thirty other kids whose names were called? I had turned in all my medical forms the first day of school. I hadn’t been at Barrington High long enough to get into any trouble, much less pick up any communicable diseases.

  “We’re getting physicals? No way.” I was unhappily waiting outside the nurse’s office with Maya, Emily, and many other students I didn’t know, totally outraged by the news. I mean, pop quizzes were one thing. Pop physicals were downright creepy.

  “Maybe you have no regard for your health, Nica, but thankfully the administration does.” I could practically see Maya breathing fire the way she was bristling and so on edge.

  “Don’t they need parental approval or something? We do have rights, after all,” I challenged her. Suddenly all the kids started to argue and disagree, until everyone was yelling at one another like a bunch of raving lunatics.

  Before I could launch into a full-blown inquiry concerning Maya’s and everyone else’s erratic behavior that morning, the nurse’s door swung open. To my absolute astonishment and horror, my father suddenly stepped out of the office, looking all doctory in his white lab coat. Followed by Chase Cochran, of all people. They were laughing about something.

  “Catch you later, Dr. A.” He then bumped fists with my dad. What a kiss-ass. And my dad actually fell for it. I was so grossed out that I practically ran screaming from the office. The entire visual was almost too much to stomach.

  “Dad?” I prayed my eyes were playing tricks on me. No such luck.

  “Nica, come in.” I took a deep breath and breezed past Chase, who winked at me as I approached the office.

  “Won’t hurt a bit,” Chase whispered as he swaggered over to Maya and kissed her on the lips, immediately brightening her mood. It made her so happy she lit up like an overdecorated Christmas tree.

  Once I was safely inside the nurse’s antiseptic office, my dad shut the door for privacy.

  “So what’s this I hear about you giving physicals?” I tried acting cool about the whole thing despite the fact that I was (not so quietly) freaking out on the inside. My heart was racing. I’d always thought that doctors were not allowed to treat their family.

  “Just some routine blood tests for a research study I’m conducting.”

  “You mean the kind with needles?” I nervously sank into one of the Lucite chairs. I hated getting shots, and I really hated giving blood. It made me nauseous. “Which arm do you want?” I felt my stomach tighten into a knot.

  “Neither.” My dad leaned against the examination table, his arms crossed. I normally would’ve felt relief at not having to give blood, but his face took on this serious demeanor with his dark brown eyes laser-focused right on me. The way I imagined he delivered bad news to his cardiac patients. “That’s not the reason I called you down here.”

  “It’s not?” I played coy and innocent, all the while choking back this uneasy feeling of impending doom that was creeping up my throat.

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your little joyride last night? What the hell were you thinking, Nica?” He glared at me, clearly upset. I heard the anger and disappointment in his voice, the way he said my name.

  I knew I wasn’t going to be able to charm my way out of this mess the way I sometimes did with my mother. Like last spring when she found out that Lai and I had gone clubbing in Bangkok instead of studying for exams. I’d convinced her that blowing off steam dancing had actually helped me ace them all. Unfortunately, no amount of As would appease Dad. Total honesty was the only way to go with him. Throw myself on the mercy of the court.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I really am. I was just going stir-crazy home alone. The whole curfew thing seems so unnecessary.” I couldn’t help but put in my two cents about the lame curfew.

  “I don’t care how it seems. It’s there for your own protection.” Maybe I was delusional, but my dad actually seemed more worried than angry.

  “Protection from what?” I probed, wondering if he knew anything about that freaky green pulse. “I thought Barrington had the lowest crime rate in the state.”

  “How long did you stay out?” He quickly turned the interrogation back on me, not answering my questions.

  “I don’t remember.” I shrugged. It was mostly true, since I’d been more absorbed with my encounter with Jackson. “Not long. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the time. I just drove around.”

  “Where?” he pressed, demanding to know. “Where exactly did you go?”

  “How am I supposed to know? Everything looks the same to me in the dark.” I leaned back from him, feeling very defensive. “Winding roads and lots of trees. Does it make a difference where I went?”

  “Yes. Because you
don’t know your way around here. These roads can be treacherous,” he shot back, upset, before quickly recovering. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. So then nothing happened to you?”

  “No,” I lied. “Nothing.”

  “Just promise me you won’t do it again. Ever.” It might have sounded like a request, but the harsh look he gave me demanded total compliance. It wasn’t in my dad’s nature to yell or curse or even threaten. He just stated what he wanted, in no uncertain terms. And you were expected to follow.

  I nodded my agreement, silenced by his reprimand. No way was I going to challenge him or risk saying another word right now. I was lucky he wasn’t grounding me forever—or at least until I graduated high school. Which was a total possibility.

  Dad stood and walked over to the door. He was about to open it but hesitated, exhaling audibly. He then turned back to face me.

  “Nica, I know how difficult this transition must be for you. We’re both bound to make some mistakes along the way. Anyway, I hoped maybe this weekend we could spend some time together. Go hiking. The trails around here are really beautiful.”

  “Fine. So long as the tofu jerky stays behind.” I desperately wanted to lighten the mood.

  “Hey, that stuff’s highly nutritious, not to mention quite tasty.” He pretended to be insulted, but I saw the hint of a smile break through his scowl.

  “Precisely the problem: I’m still tasting it from the last time we went hiking in the Andes.” My face cringed from the awful memory of chewing that heinously salty cardboard the summer before last.

  “Deal.” Dad grinned. “Now get back to class. And head straight home after school.” He opened the door for me to leave. Our father-daughter chat was mercifully over.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I left the office, not having to give blood and well aware that I had dodged a major bullet.

  • • •

  “Wow. I wish my mom were that lenient,” Oliver said to me over the phone about an hour later. I had my Bluetooth in and was walking along Fox Hollow Road, a relatively new development of modern homes. “Do you know she actually took away my PlayStation and Wii for an entire week after I got a C on a math test? Claimed God of War and Guitar Hero were sapping my potential. As if anything could sap my potential more than school does. Speaking of parents, turns out our moms knew each other way back when.”

  “Seriously?” I responded, taken aback by the news. Though the truth was, where my mother was concerned, nothing really surprised me.

  “According to Mom. I mean, not that they were good friends or anything,” Oliver added, “but she said they knew each other. Which means it’s fate that you and I should be friends.”

  “Absolutely. It’s our manifest destiny,” I joked.

  “By the way, where are you?” Oliver asked.

  “Outside Jackson’s house.” I had just turned the corner onto Field Point Circle and was staring up at the multilevel, green-designed contemporary with solar panels on the roof. Made of cedar, natural stone, and glass the residence resembled a mountain lodge.

  “Girl, you’re seriously wack-a-doodle. I thought you promised your dad to go home after school.” Oliver’s reprimand was no big surprise given his earlier reaction to my previous night’s misadventure.

  “I will go home. After I talk to Jackson.” I approached the house, which sat at the end of the woodsy cul-de-sac, surrounded by other well-tended homes.

  “Stalk him is more like it. Haven’t you heard of texting? Or phoning?”

  “Calls and texts can be ignored. Besides, I don’t have his number. Bye.” I hung up, proving my point. Then I proceeded up the flagstone path to the frosted-glass front door, took a deep breath, and rang the bell, which played some awful mellow-jazz riff. Then I waited patiently for Jackson to answer.

  Unfortunately, no one came to the door. Was he hiding? I actually put my head to the door but didn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. I peered through a window into the two-car garage. Both spots were empty. No one was home. Where might Jackson be at three thirty-five in the middle of the afternoon?

  I bit my thumb cuticle as I quickly ran through—and discounted—the other possibilities: He was hanging around with friends? Unlikely, since his old buddies seemed to have contempt for him. He went snowboarding? Doubtful, as it hadn’t snowed yet. Hospitalized? Unlikely, as word of some horrible accident would’ve certainly reached school.

  I then had an idea about where I just might find Jackson.

  • • •

  Winters Sporting Goods was located in a huge warehouse on the edge of the Barrington business district. Oliver had mentioned that Jackson worked here a few days a week after school. The enterprise reminded me of one of those big-box megaplexes with extra-wide aisles, hideously bright lighting, and colorful, eye-popping displays. Except this family-owned store was cleverly laid out in four distinct quadrants—each representing a different season.

  I went directly to the winter section of Winters, pretending to check out the slick ski boots and snowboards, expecting (and hoping) to run into one-time Olympic contender Jackson. (I didn’t know you worked here! What a surprise.) But unfortunately, Rebel Boy was nowhere to be found in winter.

  I methodically cycled my way through the other seasons without any luck spotting Jackson either. Though I did manage to find an awfully cute retro bikini in black-and-white polka dots, which was on sale and which I didn’t buy since I wasn’t there to shop.

  An attractive middle-aged woman, an outdoorsy type with wavy black hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, strolled the aisles. I first noticed her while I was lost in the baseball section of spring. Who knew there were so many different-size cups and jockstraps for guys?

  Anyway, I thought the attractive woman might just be another random mom shopping for her kid, but then I never saw her with any child. Finally I realized she was actually following me around the store when I spotted her again in summer and autumn. Was she the store undercover detective? Did she think I was there to shoplift? It started to creep me out a bit.

  Having had no luck finding Jackson, I thought it was time to leave. But as I was heading toward the door, the woman intercepted me.

  “Excuse me. May I help you?” she asked, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, her bright blue eyes staring me down.

  “Oh, no. I was just . . .” Flustered was what I was at that moment and supremely tongue-tied. “Browsing.”

  “Anything you’re looking for in particular?” she pressed with a beautiful smile. I wondered if she was going to search me. “Winters prides itself on having everything for every sport. It’s our motto.” She pointed to the big sign emblazoned over the main entrance.

  “Actually, I was looking for someone, but he doesn’t seem to be working here today,” I muttered, feeling terribly embarrassed and guilty, like I was being a stalker.

  “Are you looking for Jackson?” she asked knowingly.

  “Oh. Yeah,” I responded, surprised that she knew the reason why I had been roaming the aisles. “I’ll catch him at school tomorrow. It’s nothing important.” I tried to act nonchalant, when in fact I felt myself perspiring.

  “Important enough that you made a special trip to see my son,” she declared quite pointedly before continuing. “Unfortunately, Jackson doesn’t keep regular hours here anymore. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

  Oh my God. I realized I was talking to Jackson’s mother. I felt even more humiliated and exposed. I wanted to split, and pronto.

  “Mrs. Winters, it’s no big deal. Really. I just didn’t see Jackson at school today, and I had to ask him something . . .” I was digging a deeper hole, and I felt like Jackson’s mom knew it.

  “Hopefully, I’ll see my son at home this evening and let him know you were looking for him. Though with Jackson I never know,” Jackson’s mother admitted with a hint of sadness. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Nica. Ashley,” I timidly confessed.

  A flicker of recognition reg
istered on her face. “You’re Dr. Ashley’s daughter,” Mrs. Winters remarked, flashing her intense stare my way.

  “Yes. The one and only,” I retorted with a nervous smile. Everyone really did know my dad. I felt like I was living in Tiny Town.

  “You remind me of your mother,” Mrs. Winters said, almost knocking me off my feet.

  “You knew her too?” I asked incredulously. “I mean, you knew my mom?” First it was Oliver’s mom, now Jackson’s mother. I had gotten quite used to people knowing my dad, since he still lived in town. My mother was another matter, since she hadn’t set foot in Barrington in fourteen years. It would take some getting used to for it to not feel a bit strange to me.

  “Back in our younger days,” Mrs. Winters replied, somewhat vaguely. “We worked together very briefly. Haven’t seen her since she left Barrington. How is Lydia?”

  “Fine. Great. She’s a journalist,” I answered, impressed that she remembered Lydia and even referred to her by name. “Actually, on her way to Antarctica for a long time. Which is how I ended up here.” I was doing my best to sound upbeat.

  “Lydia never really was one for settling down. Had a major case of wanderlust. She always said she’d see the world,” Mrs. Winters admitted forlornly.

  “And she did. Is still seeing it. I was too, until she sent me here,” I lamented sadly. “You know, my mother barely mentions the past or this town. Where did you guys work together?” I was hoping to get some good dirt on my parents’ past, since they never would tell me much.

  “Barrington’s not for everyone,” Mrs. Winters curtly answered, her expression visibly darkening. For some unknown reason she had shut down and was deliberately avoiding my question about where they’d worked together. “Well, I’ll tell Jackson you stopped by.”

  And Mrs. Winters turned and abruptly walked off—leaving me confused about what had just happened.

  • • •

  “I just had the weirdest encounter with Jackson’s mother,” I reported to Oliver as I bolted out the door of Winters Sporting Goods, tapping my Bluetooth headset pressed tightly against my right ear.