Rise of Alpha (The Prodian Journey #1) (2 page)

In the meantime, I had just two “real” friends. Everyone else was either embarrassed to be seen with someone who had no power over his episodes, or too put off by the onslaught of verbal profanity. Well, it was only the one word. Of course, it
had
to be a term not acceptable in most social situations.
 

Mark and Darryl had grown thick skins. Most of the time, they just jumped in during my verbal attacks, making light of the outburst and taking the focus away from me.

I thanked my lucky stars for them, but I still wished I didn’t have to wake up to another day of these stupid episodes. Seventeen freaking years marred with shame and loneliness. I should be an active teenager, teeming with enthusiasm and lust for life. Instead, I spent my time hiding inside my shell, safe within the fortress I’d created to preserve my fragile ego. I was resigned to living my life in a Tourette’s jail.
 

“Yo, what’s the matter?” Mark turned to look at me from the driver’s seat. As much as he tried, he couldn’t understand what it was like to be in my shoes. After all, he was popular at school. Aside from being an athlete, Mark had legions of girls vying for his attention because of his green eyes and wild chestnut hair.
 

“Nothing.” I dismissed his question with a wave of a hand.
 

How could I keep on explaining my discomfort at being around new people? Even
I
was getting tired of hearing my lame excuses. My friends understood my dilemma to a certain degree, but they weren’t the ones who shouted obscenities at the most inopportune moments. Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck with a word like
marvelous
,
jockstrap
, or even
bastard
? Why did it have to be
fuck
?

“Dude, whatever you’re thinking, screw it. You’re not getting out of this one. This is payback for when you dragged my ass out to take pictures of birds! I had to wake up early and take pictures of . . . some sparrows!” Darryl shook his head at the memory. It was obvious the expedition still bothered him. His problem, not mine.
 

Darryl was sort of in-between me and Mark in the appearance department. He was a few inches shorter than me but lanky, with gunmetal gray eyes and flat black hair, courtesy of a cheap bottle of supermarket-brand hair dye. We dressed in similar styles sometimes, depending on how dark my mood was, but Darryl was the one people called
goth.
 
He was into piercings. So far, he had three in his right ear, two in the left, and one in his right nipple. It remained a mystery how the three of us got along so well, considering our differences.
 

“They’re called Graceful Hedge Sparrows,” I corrected, “and they’re quite interesting.”

“Whatever. We sat there for hours. Hours! I followed you around while you took pictures of those dumb birds. We could’ve been attacked by a mountain lion, for crying out loud.” Darryl’s voice squawked while he jammed his fingers through his faux-hawk.
 

“Sure, whatever,” I retorted. “I’m in the car already, so it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”

Mark parked the car in a paid parking lot, and we strolled a few blocks to a dilapidated building that housed several businesses and souvenir shops. I felt for the phone in my pocket and switched it to vibrate, just in case Mom decided to call to check on me. God knew she had the tendency to coddle, and at my age, it had gotten downright embarrassing.
 

VOYANT’s purple neon sign welcomed us when we walked into the dark, rather dingy room. The scent of burning incense was heavy, and I faltered, not digging the eerie atmosphere. The black walls were lined with wall hangings of different tarot card characters, which seemed to be smirking at anyone dumb enough to buy their bogus predictions. Mark glanced over his shoulder at me with an unspoken challenge, leaving me no choice but to follow him to the counter.

The girl behind the counter looked up, her expression one of boredom. I recognized her immediately and stopped in my tracks, my mouth gaping open.
 

Shannon McKesson?
 

Whoa! Shannon was the epitome of popularity. She was pretty in that girl-next-door type of way. Her blond hair bounced on her shoulders like girls’ did in television commercials. Her eyes were bluer than my mother’s, and she had that mature persona most teenagers would die for. I had been watching her all these years, unable to take my eyes off her whenever she drove her yellow Beetle into the school parking lot or walked through the campus with the sure kind of grace only confident people possessed.

Darryl shifted next to me and pushed my chin up, closing my mouth. I coughed, realizing I’d already made my first blunder of the night. And it didn’t even have anything to do with my tics.

“Hi, Shannon. We’re here for a tarot reading. I called earlier to make an appointment,” Mark said, sounding like a real tarot junkie.

“Oh, yeah. Larry, Curly, and Moe.” She hopped off the barstool and checked off our names in the appointment book.

Mark and Darryl quickly pointed at me. “He’s Curly!”
 

Of all the things these bastards could do, they had to put me in the spotlight. They knew I hated the attention. I felt my face burning from embarrassment but decided to play along, shuffling my feet for maximum effect. What came next was a reward for my efforts. Shannon laughed, the sound a sweet mix of tolling bells.
 

Darryl continued laughing, but Mark leaned forward on the counter, about to unleash his killer moves on Shannon.
 

“Hey, gorgeous. How are you?” Mark said in his most effective man-voice.
 

“Cut it out, Stanton,” Shannon answered with a roll of her eyes.
 

It was obvious from Shannon’s reply that she was familiar with Mark. As much as I hated what I was feeling at that moment, I wanted to sock Mark and tell him to lay off. We all knew he was seeing Brittney, his flavor of the month.
 

Shannon drew back the shimmery black divider that blocked the entrance to another room. She whispered something to someone before she looked at our group and waved at me.
 

“Curly, you’re up first.” She held the curtain open for me while I made my way around the counter.

“Thanks,” I muttered under my breath. In the brief moment when I walked past her, I caught the scent of jasmine and inhaled deep. My whole body hummed at her proximity, and I felt like I had woken after a long sleep.

“Madame Elizabeth will take good care of you,” Shannon said in a mocking tone.
 

She drew the curtain closed, and I found myself trapped with Madame Elizabeth for the next God-only-knew-how-long. I glanced at the woman sitting behind the round table in the center of the room that was covered with a velvet cloth. Atop sat a stack of harmless-looking cards.

“Hello, young man.” She bowed her head in welcome. With an elaborate wave of her hand, she gestured to the chair opposite hers. “Have a seat.”

I returned her greeting with a tight smile, and then, with great reluctance, sank into the chair. I had no idea what the heck this tarot and psychic crap was all about to begin with, except somehow predicting the future. Remaining silent, I rested my clammy palms on my thighs.

Madam Elizabeth pushed three yellow velvet bags across the table. “Each bag contains a deck of cards. Pick one, then shuffle that deck,” she said.
 

Wary, I glanced at her before choosing the bag in the middle. I pulled the drawstring, took out the cards, and began to shuffle them. Her keen eyes watched me and she smiled when I handed her the deck.
 

“Is this your first time receiving a tarot reading?”

The small talk was unnecessary, but I played along.
 

“Yeah.”
 

She spread the colorful cards across the table in a single sweep. The cards fanned across the surface like fallen dominoes in a perfect arc. “So, what are you looking to see? Love, adventure . . . perhaps happiness?”
 

“I do– don’t know,” I stammered. A jerk shot through my tight shoulders before I could stop it.
 

Madame Elizabeth’s gaze met mine for a brief moment. Although her eyes were hidden behind red-tinted glasses, it was obvious she saw my discomfort, and it put me on the defensive. The woman was stunning in a disturbing way. It felt like she could see right through me, as if she knew my secrets.
 

I studied her while she perused the cards. Her hair was tied in a loose bun on top of her head, and she wore a magician’s tunic, which reminded me of characters in
League of Legends
. I had the urge to roll my eyes when she began playing the part, momentarily closing her eyes and breathing deep. Hands splayed on the cards, she caressed each one before she collected the stack. Shuffling the cards once, she then laid a few back down on the table with quick and precise movements. With utmost concentration, she studied them, choosing one.
 

She flipped the card for me to check. “What do you see?”
 

Considering I had no idea what to look for, I stared at the card then began describing the picture. “I see a circle with four distinct colors on the edges.”

Nodding, she dropped the card and looked up at me. This time, her thin, almost invisible brows furrowed. “With every curse comes a blessing,” she said.
 

The moment she uttered those words, the hair at the back of my neck rose.

What the hell?

Freak with A Tic

I stared at Madame Elizabeth, unable to form coherent words. It wasn’t as much
what
she said as the expression on her face. I could’ve sworn that the woman’s lips trembled. A violent tic rolled over my shoulders, and the sudden movement shattered the silence of the room. The table rattled when my hands gripped the edges and I tried to suppress the tic.

“Are you okay?” Madame Elizabeth’s voice was barely a whisper, despite the calm demeanor she tried to project.

The tics subsided within seconds, but my embarrassment lingered longer. When I opened my mouth to answer, nothing came out.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

I shook my head. “I . . . explain to me what you just said.”
 

Her statement bothered me, but I wasn’t about to admit it. I never believed in superstitions and old wives tales. My mother had come up with the most ridiculous ones over the years.
Sitting too close to the television is bad for your eyes. Chocolate leads to acne.
Sure, tell that to a teenager. And yet, the Madame’s proclamation struck me as serious. She lifted her sleeves, and her long, slender arms grazed the table, hovering over the cards as if summoning higher powers.
 

“All I can see is that you are suffering. You have an affliction. You’re angry and frustrated, but as I said, I see a rainbow on the horizon.”

“What does that mean?”
 

“This is the wheel of fortune.” She held the card up for me to inspect. “When it appears, it heralds a new phase in the cycle of life. You can associate it with changes in your present situation. It could mean good luck or good fortune—however you want to interpret it. But as it is a turning wheel, it can bring the opposite of luck as well. Obstacles and unpleasant surprises often will be mixed in with the good.”
 

I knew right then that I shouldn’t have gone to this tarot reading. There was nothing more disconcerting than being told that there was the possibility I’d go from fucked up to great, and then back to being fucked up again.
 

Rising to my feet, I offered a tight smile. “Thanks for your time.”

“Wait, don’t you want to hear the rest?”

I shoved my hands in my pocket and shook my head. “I’ve wasted enough of your time already as it is. I’ll send one of my friends in.” I turned and walked away, feeling weird and suddenly out of sorts.

“If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” she said just as I slid past the curtain that served as the border between profound insanity and reality.
 

I found Mark and Darryl sitting on the small sofa. Both looked up at me.