WITHDRAWAL PART I

The gang faces the inevitability of losing their psionics, and faces the drawback of a withdrawal.

I. KATRINA

It all began in English class. A normal day just like any other. Mrs. Rosethorne’s voice becoming like background noise in the back of my mind. Then came another voice, and another, and another until I was hearing all of my classmates talking at once.

I looked up, but nobody but the teacher’s mouth was moving. My hands began clawing the skin of my forearms, trying to scratch that itch that just won’t go away. Soon I was really going to town on it. I wanted to rip off the skin and scratch the bugs that were marching under it.

“Tropical! Stop that fidgeting!” Mrs. Rosethorne pointed her ruler at me.

“Sorry.” I stopped.

The itch was slowly going away, but it was replaced by a pulsing organ nestled in my chest. Is that my heart? I thought as I pressed my palm over it. Oh, my God it was trying to force it’s way out of my chest.

Static was running along my skin and sweat began to condense on my forehead. I thought I was going die. The mass of food in my belly started making its way up to my esophagus, and I got up.

“Bathroom.” I muffled and charged through the door, not waiting for her permission.

I somehow made it to the girls’ room down the hall and made a beeline to the toilet. I emptied the contents of my stomach and slowly began collapsing. My senses were becoming clouded, except for the thoughts that were coming from the people at the door.

My eyes finally pried open. I was in my bed at home. My teddy bear was snuggled under my chin, trying to comfort me, but I was no mood to return the favor because all my limbs had been rendered unusable. I was completely paralyzed, except for my neck, my eyes, and my mouth.

A cold hand pressed against my face. It slowly traced the curve of my chin, sending a literal tremor of electricity down my body.

“Rest dear.” My mother’s cool voice whispered. Her hand found my strands and began gently tugging them.

“Am I sick?” My voice croaked.

Mom kept stroking me.

“Is it pneumonia again?”

She shook her head gently. I wish her eyes were.

“Please, tell me.”

“You’re going through withdrawal dear,” She sent a small shock through my palm as she twirled her finger there. “In a few days, your telepathy will be gone.”

I suppose the feeling of losing my telepathy wasn’t the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I could still feel that rape-like shiver that sometimes visited me when my grandfather experimented on me, but I had to admit I had gotten a little attached. I didn’t know how I would feel when I couldn’t peek into people’s minds anymore. The one thing I knew I couldn’t stand was the pain it caused me.

I was strong enough to go to school in a few days, but my body was still really sensitive to touch. I was very careful to avoid the bodies passing me by in the halls. I heard someone puking and found my friend and her sister holding her by the hair next to the recycling bin.

“Oh, Lord…” Susan said.

That didn’t stop Fleana from puking anymore, or kept her standing for that matter.

I waved my hand at her. “How’s she holdin’ up?”

“Not good.” Susan recoiled as another wave of Fleana’s vomit was dumped into the bin. “She’s been like this for the past few hours.”

“Well, I doubt you could understand how much like crap we’re feeling right now.” My voice rose along with my unexpected temper.

“Whoa. Where is this coming from?”

“Witch I got ants all over me!”

Susan held up her hands, but I knew she would bury me if I ever gave her a reason even if I was healthy. Fleana’s sister was massively strong. She wasn’t freakishly built, but it’s hard to miss her bulging biceps and she was an inch taller than me, and I was pretty tall.

“I’m sorry.” I groveled. “I’m not myself.”

“It’s cool. You seem to be going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah…Say, how’re the boys doing?”

“Well, Marion is wearing out his jaw with huge wads of gum. If he keeps that up, he might need to get his jaw wired. As for Spikes…he’s seen better days.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I grabbed my books. “See ya.”

“Later.”

As I dodged throngs of limbs and fingers, a pair hands finally managed to grip my elbow and pulled me aside. I was about to floor whoever be it teacher or student, but I dropped the clump of electricity when I found out it was my friend Asa.

Asa’s voice got small. “Maybe this is a bad time.”

“What is it Ace?” I tried to keep my voice level.

“No, no that’s okay.”

“Ace! Just tell me.”

She looked scared and maybe a bit nervous. Maybe it was because of the towering blonde girl standing before her with bloodshot eyes, an angry look, and had just dropped a ball of death just a moment before she used it.

She finally steeled her nerve and told me. “My itablet is missing.”

“And?”

“Well, you see that girl over there.”

I looked at the cute, curly haired girl talking to a group of her friends. I recognized her as one of the upperclassmen and definitely not the person I wanted to go picking fights with.

“What about her?” I asked, hoping she won’t ask me to do what I thought she would.

“I just know she took it. She’s had it out for me all year, but when I told the principal. She told that if I didn’t have proof, she can’t help. And then she starts going on about that crap about being more responsible. I just wondered…since everyone knows you’re psychic and all, that you take a peek for me and ‘convince’ her to give it back.”

I sneered at that last part.

“You don’t have to do that last part though. Just please help me get my phone back. My mom will kill me if she found out I lost it.”

I grunted and looked the girl right dead in her pretty, sky blue eyes. I tried burrowing into her thoughts, pulling out whatever secrets I could find, but all I got was static. I tried forcing my way through, but the headache was starting to kill me. I felt blood running down my nose.

“Kat. Kat!” Asa shook me. “That’s enough. You’re gonna get a brain aneurysm.”

“Sorry.” I coughed. Even my tongue was bright red.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s going on?”

“My psionics. They’re going away for a while.”

“Noooo!” Came a cry from a desperate teenage boy in the basement of the apartment, a place we called our lair. That boy was Prince.

He banged his quite swollen head on a table as if that might start up his brain. His backpack looked confused and was running every which way. Finally, Prince used his head and slammed his fist on the table instead.

“Spikes.” I told him. “That’s not going to make you feel any better.”

I nearly pirouetted when he showed me his face. His eyes were completely red except for the little black dots that were his irises. They twitched like a drug addict’s.

“Is it that bad?” His voice was surprisingly even, though I bet if I had pushed him just a little, he would completely change his tone.

“No…” I said completely sympathetically. He didn’t believe me.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, and right now our eyes were completely displaying the bare nakedness of how we actually felt. Crappy.

“So…What’s up with Backpack?”

Prince looked back at his creation, perhaps feeling regret for first time since making it. “He won’t�"He won’t listen to me. I am having some trouble...interfacing with him? I don’t know. Something to do with using my brain to communicate with him.”

“Wow, that sounds like--”

“A huge design flaw. I noticed.”

We stared at the thing for a while. It was doing anything but being polite, farting oil, probably telling Prince with one of its legs to “bring it on”, ramming its front desperately at my arm just daring me to do something about it. I almost did.

“How long do you think we have?”

Prince handed me a pill for my headache. “I honestly have no idea.”

Author's Note

Check out the series on Amazon.com by Xavier mcDougle