Murder Out By Caster Bridge

Chapter thirteen

Instead of heading straight to work, we stopped at the local cafe and got something to eat because it was nearly close to lunchtime. Norman hadn't had breakfast, so he was starving. Of course, he ordered a chicken sandwich with pickles, but that wasn't enough for him. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a jumbo size bag of marshmallows. This only added more to Norman's weirdness that I've already become accustomed to for only knowing him for an hour or so now.

I looked around the shop to make sure no one was watching. From the few customers and employees, everyone seemed occupied before I focused on the spoon and made it levitate towards me.

"Dude, no way!" exclaimed Norman, taking a huge bite out of his chicken, pickled, and marshmallow sandwich. "You seriously have magic?"

"Tone it down, will you?" I whispered, stirring my tea. I then grabbed my crispy curly fries and dipped a couple into the small ketchup cup then put them in my mouth and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. "I don't want the entire town to know. They already call me names and think I'm a freak. How would you think they'd react if they knew the truth?"

"I think they would think it was pretty cool to have such an amazing talent. Besides, you do know this is Caster Valley, right? Secrets don't stay a secret for long," he said with his mouth stuffed which kind of disgusted me. I had to look away discreetly to avoid seeing the mess.

"Don't remind me," I said. "Well, you know how people are in this town. They hate anything abnormal."

"Oh, trust me, I know. And I, for one, am a little envious of you. You have this super cool talent. But being different is what makes you interesting. Do you want me to tell you how I know that?"

I glanced at him briefly. "Only when you finish your, uh, sandwich."

He ignored what I said and explained anyway. "Well, I kind of have a talent. I'm not magical like you, but I have this pretty weird skill, talent, power, I don't know what to call it."

I took a slow, long sip of my tea and then looked at him confused. "What do you mean? What kind of talent?"

"Have you lost something recently?"

"No," I said, confused.

"Okay. Do you know anyone who has?"

I thought about it. "Well, now that you mention it, my grandmother lost a small golden cross. It was on a long sterling chain."

"What's your grandmother's name?"

"Ruth Hawthorn?"

Norman choked on his blueberry slushie. After a coughing fit, he looked at me surprised. "You are Ruth Hawthorn's grandson?"

"Uh, yeah, is that a problem?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, quickly.

"Is this about everyone in town knowing that my grandmother is a bit eccentric?"

"I think a "bit" eccentric might be a little mild."

"Even so," I said. "She is my grandmother and I love her dearly. She has been more like a mom to me than my mother. I know that sounds terrible to say, but it's the truth."

"Weston..."

"I don't want you to misunderstand. I love my mother. I do."

"Weston, you don't have to explain that to me. I get it. Your mother doesn't understand you. Let me guess. She gets angry at you all the time for things even when some of those things weren't your fault?"

"Yeah, exactly, h-h-how did you know?" I stammered.

"Because your mother is exactly how my dad acts towards me. He blames me for my mother's death. I think this is his way of punishing me." The pain in his voice was clear. But his emotions were strangely calm. He then cleared his throat and smiled. "Anyway, I was going to try and show you my talent. So, Ruth Hawthorn and a gold cross on a sterling silver chain, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he said and closed his eyes briefly. "I know where it is." His stern gaze peered directly into mine. "Check the right side pocket of your hoodie."

Skeptically, but curiously, I put my hand in my right pocket. What the...

Cold metal touched my fingertips.

Surprised, I pulled it out.

Sure enough, it was my grandmother's necklace. How did it get there?

I looked at Norman stunned. "How did you do that?"

Norman smirked, taking a large slurp from his slushie like this whole thing was no big deal. "Well, it's hard to explain. But when I was thirteen, puberty was pretty ironic for it to happen, I discovered that I had this unique ability to locate anything that someone has misplaced or lost. But the downside is, it only works on items. I can't find people."

"How does it work?" I asked curiously. I couldn't help it. I found someone who had a similar talent to me. Sure, our talents were vastly different, but it was nice finding out someone else also shared a preternatural talent.

"I'm not sure," he said. "All I need is the name of the person and what they lost and it's like my mind has a built-in GPS mentally downloaded with a voice or an image that tells me where it is. Sometimes, however, I will get a feeling towards a certain place."

"That's interesting," I said and then turned to him. "Okay, my turn. I have something to tell you too."

"Are you coming out to me? Because, dude, I already knew you were gay. Hey, no judgment from me. I just want you to know that I am a hundred percent straight."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"What?"

"How is it that everyone knows about me being gay? I'm honestly starting to suspect there is a neon sign above my head."

Norman laughed. "It's nothing like that. I just felt like you were checking me out." My face heated up. I was pretty sure I was embarrassingly red. "Hey, it's no big deal. I find it flattering that someone finds me attractive. I just wish a girl would look at me like that." His eyes got a dreamy look and his emotions fluttered.

I smirked and leaned forward. "You have someone special on your mind?"

Norman looked at me startled. "How did you know?" he asked. His eyes then widened with excitement as he leaned forward. "Did you read my mind? Can you tell me what number I am thinking of?"

I pushed him back. "It's nothing like that," I replied. "Aside from having magic, I too possess an uncanny talent."

"Really? What is it?"

"Okay, don't freak out on me when I tell you this."

"I'll try not to," joked Norman.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, well, I can feel people's emotions."

"No way," he said. "You're an empath? That's cool. Can you read me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can you read my emotions?" he asked again. "I have nothing to hide. So, go ahead."

I shot him a weird look. This was the first time someone wanted me to read them, and this was the first time I ever tried without subconsciously trying to block out people's emotions flooding into me. I straightened and turned in my seat. I forced myself to relax and focused all of my mind and energy on Norman.

It was strange, though.

His emotional psyche was calm. Extremely, eerily, and terrifyingly calm. Beyond the calmness, I couldn't detect what was deeper. He kind of reminded me of...

No, I wouldn't think about him right now. I wouldn't let my mind wander down that.

I reached out and gripped Norman's arm.

He gasped.

His emotions flooded me instantly. Beyond the calmness, I could now sense fear bubbling.

I let go immediately. "I-I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

I leaned back and looked at him. "I don't know. I mean, I felt how calm you were. I guess I kind of freaked. I have only met one other person with that level of calmness. I didn't mean to touch you so quickly. I just... Touch makes my ability stronger."

"What did you sense?"

"Nothing," I said. "I mean, your emotions were strangely calm. It's like you are so well-grounded that you're completely composed of all negative feelings. Not one emotion stands out more than any other. It's almost like you are strangely balanced. If that even makes sense."

"That makes perfect sense," he said. "A ton of people commented that I have a calming aura. So, your assessment is pretty accurate. Plus, I always feel calm. I admit, there was a little fear when you touched me so fast. I thought you were hurt."

"I didn't mean to scare you like that. I just freaked out," I said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not right now. Raincheck?"

"Sure," he said.

Just then the bell over the door rang. Usually, I would ignore such things, but those vile, oil-like emotions coming at me had me looking over at the door to see Zelda and Brianna walk in. One look in my direction was all it took for Zelda to grab Brianna's hand and lead her over.

"Weston," Zelda sneered.

I gazed at them. "Hi, Zelda. Hi, Brianna. I didn't think either one of you would be out here considering your father just passed away, Brianna."

Brianna's eyes shifted away. "I could care less about that man. He was never around." I could feel that she was lying.

"You care," I said. "Deep down. You do care and miss him. You're just putting up a brave face."

Brianna's eyes hardened and she slammed her palms down on the table as her deadly gaze locked with mine. "You know nothing about me or my family."

I wanted to jerk back but instead, I wasn't intimidated. A strong sense of pride and comfort came from somewhere.

"You're right, Brianna. I don't know you or your family. But I did know and talk to your dad in the mornings. He always talked highly of you."

Brianna's eyes widened as tears welled. Without saying anything, she ran out of the shop.

Zelda glared and raised a hand. Sensing a fight about to break out, I tried to prepare myself. Before I could react, Norman, who had been quiet through the whole exchange, grabbed her arm.

"I wouldn't do that, sweetheart," he said, smirking.

"And who are you? A friend of his? Why would you want to be friends with a gay freakish weirdo?"

Norman grinned. "Because he's fascinating, unlike people like you. He has more soul and kindness. And putting people down only makes you the bully."

Zelda yanked her arm out of Norman's grip and growled. "Whatever. If you catch his curse don't come crying to me."