The Autumn Prince

54. Memory and Loss

"I'm in heaven," Rachel said, sighing past a mouthful of hashbrowns, eggs, and bacon.

"It's a little heavy after last night's pizza," Katherine observed critically, but she wasn't complaining. I had awakened early on our second day and ordered breakfast from a nearby deli as a surprise. I knew she wouldn't finish a full serving of standard skillet fare, so I picked up a container of sliced honeydew and cantaloupe with her in mind.

"Bullshit," Rachel countered. "All this protein first thing in the morning? I'll be flying all day."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

Having just taken another bite, the best Rachel could do was flex her middle finger, bringing unexpected giggles from Becca whose mood had improved significantly since our walk. Though frightening, her vision had been obscure, and we agreed not to tell the others, and to keep our eyes peeled for potential threats.

"You're welcome," I said to the room at large, indulging in the last strip of bacon, "but since nobody considered packing food it was either order in or eat out."

Rachel swallowed forcefully. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but it would have been nice to sit down at the restaurant. I'm already stir crazy."

"And delay breakfast by an hour?" I asked.

She gave it half a second of thought before returning to her meal without answering. Still chewing on her last bite, Katherine stood up and began collecting empty containers and dirty dishes, waving Becca back into her seat when she stood up to help.

"This one's on me," she said.

What little momentum we accumulated in the morning ground to a halt that afternoon and by the time six o'clock rolled around, I excused myself early, suited up for the weather, and deliberately consumed time by walking to campus.

Kelly's blue Subaru was the only car in the lot. The building itself was mostly dark except for a few office windows, and the lack of both faculty and students in the halls made me feel unwelcome, as though I was sneaking in. As usual, I found Miss Barnes in her lab, wearing her traditional business skirt and lab coat and reading a book behind her desk.

"Mister Corwen," she acknowledged my presence, peering over the top of her glasses in a way that made her appear older than she was.

"Hi professor," I said, deliberately violating our agreement. If I hadn't been looking for a reaction, I'd have missed the slight narrowing of her eyes and hasty return to the pages of her novel, but whatever had changed Kelly's attitude toward me kept her silent.

I wasn't angry with her, but I couldn't think of a way to approach her that wouldn't be artless, so without a word, I marched to the workbench and laid out my pre-labs for bacterial morphology. It was one of those subjects required by the curriculum that held little interest for me, but I applied my years of discipline toward completing the work and when I looked up forty minutes later, Kelly had pointedly turned her chair to face the wall.

That intentional move to disassociate herself irritated me, and in a moment of weakness, I flicked a thin whip of power across several of the lights floating lazily around her. A brief flash of lightning arced through her anima, producing sharp sparks that quickly vanished as the gates of her will flashed like tiny strobes.

Kelly visibly jumped in her seat and placed a hand on her desk as if steadying herself. I had to fight to keep myself from laughing out loud, but my glee didn't come from any sense of revenge or cruel humor. No thought had accompanied the action, only instinct, and the fine control I'd just exhibited had been eluding me for weeks. For the second time, the professor had been the catalyst for a breakthrough, and my inadvertent success left me giddy.