13 • A Calling

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"You okay?" Owen queried, placing his large hands on my skinny shoulders, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

These were the first words he said to me in my two days of stay at his place. The awkwardness was too much to handle, it seemed. I mean, I didn't mind not talking to him since, in the first place, I really didn't know what to say to him. Whenever I tried, I'd always clamp my mouth shut and forget what I was about to say. The breakfast, lunch, and dinner thing I really couldn't handle. Because we were so quiet, I could hear the tiny droplets of water on the bucket that Owen placed near the counter. I didn't mind not talking to him whenever we passed each other because I could always avoid him and be in the quiet solitude of my sanctuary: my room.

Now I looked at his chin, since I couldn't look at him straight in the eye, ones that were looking squarely into mine. He reminded me of how Roman would stare at me, or how Gabriel or Alistair would. But, most especially, Roman. It was like his gaze was boring holes into my skull. That was the effect of it all.

"Yeah," I gulped, nodding. I'd nearly fallen back off the stairs, since I wasn't myself. No big surprise there. Then Owen had appeared at the back doorway, coming in from his garage.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not believing me.

"Yes," I said, neutrally.

He seemed reluctant, but he let go, nevertheless. We stood there for a moment, holding in the silence filling the atmosphere. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to talk to him about many things. I wanted to confide in him about my horrible situation; about my powers, about my fears, about my nightmares. But I knew I couldn't. It would make things much more complex. And the heaven knew I did not want that. My life was too complicated enough, thank you very much.

However life wanted to play tricks on me, because Owen said, in a very low but hesitant voice, "Can we talk? I mean...we barely said two words in the two days of your stay here. And...I know that it's been a while and it's been an awkward thing for us to be here together but...I just want to start over. As friends, I mean."

I looked at him through my dull peridot eyes, giving him a weak little smile. "I was hoping you'd say that sooner or later. A talk is a good idea."

For the first time, it wasn't awkward anymore. We would start from scratch, but our ways would turn into a new happy book. Owen grinned at me and led the way to the living room, just five steps away from the stairs which I had been currently standing on. I sat on the sofa, and he was ten inches away from me. Not that he thought it would be way awkward that we would be sitting together, but because he was gaining access for his large frame and limbs to rest in those ten inches of free space. I nearly laughed, because it was like we were before everything went falling apart between us. Except we were only friends now, so minus the special relationship part.

"So what's been up with you for the last two years?" Owen started, looking at me in a more less-suspicious and less-observing manner.

"Oh," I said, giving a little laugh, "you have no idea."

I mean, he knew that my family died. Everyone knew it. They were buried up the hill where my family always wanted to build a house at. And everyone knee that police were still baffled that they couldn't find the killer. It seemed like they'd already given up, much to their frustration.

There was silence. Owen seemed to know what I was thinking, because I knew that it showed in my face. I looked devastated. I looked old. "I'm sorry, Venise," he said softly. "Come on, let's talk about something el --"

"Were you there?" I said, looking at him with eyes that were so full of melancholy, but I couldn't cry. I was tired of crying. My voice was strained and shaky.

He knew me too well, that was what it was. He knew me so much, that he didn't have to ask what the heck I was questioning him about. Even if we hadn't seen each other for two years. "Yes," he said. "I was there. And Grandpa. I'm really sorry, Ven."

I nodded. I knew he would be there. The whole village was there. I dreamed about it and saw the visions in my sleep. But I wasn't . I couldn't take it. I begged the people at the shelter to take me in. "The whole village too, I guess?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. And then, he looked at me quickly, one brow raised. "How did you know?"

"They all respected our family, that we're practically family all together." I didn't tell him that I dreamed of it. And that it had been accurately in the affirmative. I dared not tell him. I was getting quite used to lying without hesitating, actually. Which was a benefit, since I didn't have to feel guilty (even though I should have been, really) and blurt everything out to Owen.

"Thing is," he said, after a while, "you weren't there. We all thought you've gone missing. The whole village was looking for you, but they didn't see you. I helped, Gramps did, too. But it was like you vanished into thin air. Where have you been?"

And again, I didn't hesitate. "At my friend's house. She let me live with her for a while."

"Who?" he demanded, slightly looking suspicious now.

I shrugged. "You don't know her."

"Try me."

I sighed. My lie was wavering. I guess I wasn't a very good liar as I had expected a while ago. "Her name's Georgie. Ring a bell?"

I eased as he leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest, looking completely puzzled. "No. Haven't met her."

"Told you," I said, equally. And I beamed. It wasn't a forced one, too. Owen shrugged. He had no idea, which was perfect. It looked like he let it go, so I asked, "What's up with you?"

He sighed. "School's starting in a month. I'm entering my second year in college. I asked Gramps to stay here while I was gone the whole semester; so I asked him again to stay here when I leave. I'd only be coming by every break or whenever I'm free. But you know Grandpa Moses. He would never leave his house; even said that I'm responsible with this house, since it's now mine after all, and he has nothing to do with it.

"Said he would never leave his television. I have coloured TV! His is a nearly-going-to-die-all-black-and-white television that would be sold for four dollars. But I understand him. It's a prized possession. Lived since the fifties. So now, I'm thinking of staying here and travel to school, waking up really unless I have afternoon classes. I'd be so lucky if that happened. School's nearly two hours away, let me tell you."

He looked so stressed, I thought it was adorable. In a friendly kind of way, though. "I'm sure you can handle it. You always do." And that was the truth. He always had ways to get through something terrible or, as it was happening now, stressful. That was what I liked about him. He never gave up on anything. I admired him, actually.

Owen looked at me, quite perplexed a bit, but his expression softened and said, "Thanks. So what about you? You're entering your senior year in high school, right? You heading to that Georgie girl's place again?"

I wanted to bite my lip and chew on it, but I resisted. I shrugged. "I really don't know. We're not in good terms right now. So..."

"Ah," he said, smiling at me. His old, warm smile. "Had a row, huh?"

I nodded. It was not actually a row, but it would end up that way if Georgie showed up on Owen's doorstep.

"That'll work out," he continued. "In the mean time, where will you stay, since you and Georgie had a fight?"

At that, my shoulders sagged and my face drooped, making me look even more older than it already was.

"Hey," Owen said, leaning forward to touch my shoulder with a gentle hand. "What if you stay here, while I'm gone? Then, both our problems will be solved."

I looked at him, suddenly wanting to hug him. "Thank you! That would really be great. I promise to take good care of your house." You're my saviour.

"You better," he said in an attempt to a warning tone. Then we both laughed.

But we stopped, when we heard banging on the door. At first, we didn't hear it since we kept on laughing, and then the banging began again, and we ignored it, thinking it was something else. But when the loud smacking started to get louder, and Owen's handsome face turned into a scowl, we both stood up, and he said, "Who could that be? Jeez. He's very impatient."

I stood at the doorway, looking at the front door, while Owen opened it, then the screen, and began to freeze.

Oh, that was natural for men. They would all stop and look. It was not a he, like he thought. That was the problem.

It was a she.

And that she was none other than Georgiana Van Allen herself.

"I am so sorry for banging on your door like that," she said prettily to Owen, her beautiful face creased into an apologetic expression. Her violet eyes were huge.

It took a while for Owen to recover, but somehow, he eventually did. "It's...okay."

Georgie looked past his broad shoulder, since she had the height of a total supermodel (and she was even more beautiful than any human being -- or whatever she was -- I had ever known on this planet), and looked at me, her eyes shining brightly. Which was weird. Because why would she be happy to see me? She ought to be mad.

"Venise!" she exclaimed.

Owen turned around to look at me with a stunned expression on his face. "Who's this?"

"Oh!" Georgie said for me, blushing a bit -- that's right. She blushed -- extending her gloved hand. "I'm Georgie, Venise's best friend. I just have to talk to her, if you don't mind?"

"How did you know where she is?" Owen asked, suddenly immune to her beauty and presence. But that didn't mean he couldn't stop glancing at her every two seconds. "Did Venise contact you?"

She shrugged. "I asked a psychic," she teased, her smile lighting up her whole face. And the musical laughter began to chime in the deafening silence of the house.

Psychoc. Ha. Yeah, there are psychics around, but I knew that she asked Gabriel. I was sure of that. So very, very sure. No doubt he already knew where I was, the moment my mind began to clear from all of my problems.

"Uh," Owen muttered. "Right. Okay." Georgie's hand was still in reach, so he grabbed it and shook hands with her. "I'm Owen," he began to influx.

She smiled even more, nearly blinding Owen and I with her perfectly white teeth. I knew that that smile could melt a glacier in a second. "Nice to meet you. Mind if I talk to Venise for a teeny while?"

Oh, I should have known.

Actually, I did know that the reason she was here was because she wanted to talk to me. More over, about her car which I still had not returned yet. But that didn't mean that I forgot.

"Sure," my friend said, shrugging. Traitor. Not that he knew anything about the situation I was in. But, whatever. "I'll be in the garage."

He gave one last look at Georgie's beautiful face, her long wavy blond hair was a bit ruffled from the heavy wind outside, and left while shaking his head.

As soon as he was gone and was out of earshot, Georgie turned to me and said, in the most deadly calm of voices I had ever heard anyone say, "We need to talk."

And I knew I was dead.

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