The Sensitive, Page 3

  “Rooooowwrr. Mowowrow. Rrrrrrrrummummum.”

  It came closer and, all of a sudden, appeared in the light of the hallway. It was the same gray cat, with the white splotch, that she saw earlier in the day. It continued singing, or talking, loudly while it made its way toward her and she was amazed that it didn’t wake the other girls.

  When it reached her bedside, it scooted its body sideways, arched its back and bushed out its tail. “Meowwrrr.” It gave Fynn a sideways, playful, glance. Then it took off and ran around the room, underneath and around several beds. Then it sprinted toward her, made a long running jump, and landed on her bed.

  She held her hand out and the cat immediately rubbed its cheek against it. She scratched its chin and it purred. Fynn recalled Snipwit saying there were no cats or dogs within the compound. I don’t know how you got in here but I’m glad you did.

  The cat walked across the bed to the necklace lying on top of the cloth. Ever so gently, as though it understood its delicacy, the cat touched it with one paw. Then it looked at the poem in Fynn’s hand, looked up at her and gave a soft “meow.” As if it just confirmed that all was in order, it went beside the pillow, circled a few times and plopped down to sleep.

  Fynn glanced around the room again and wondered if she would get into trouble. Still no other heads were raised. She certainly welcomed the friendly vibration of the animal and decided to let it stay the night. She wrapped the necklace in its cloth and put it, and the poem, back in the box.

  She was about to slip it back under the pillow when, all of a sudden, she had the sense of being watched. The girl in the next bed was leaning on her elbow, facing Fynn. Fynn knew the girl saw the box that was still in her hand and had to have seen the cat as well. They stared at each other. There was enough light for Fynn to see her dark, beady eyes and pursed lips. She looks like a smaller version of Snipwit.

  Finally, little Snipwit lay back down. Fynn quickly tucked the box under the pillow and lay down next to the cat, which was already asleep. Little Snipwit’s face had been expressionless but Fynn didn’t have a good feeling about it. Tomorrow, before the others woke, she would put the necklace on to keep it safe.

  Fynn fell into a deep sleep; deeper than any she had experienced in a long time.

  ~~~

  Fynn walked with the cat, somewhere in the forest. She had the sense that others were waiting for them. Right before her eyes, the cat transformed into a woman.

  The woman’s long black hair framed an ivory-skinned face with clear, penetrating, emerald eyes. She smiled at Fynn, a playful, happy smile.

  “Hello, Fynn. My name is Cnāwan.”

  At the sound of the name, Fynn wrinkled her nose like she did when something struck her curiously. It was an odd name and sounded like Kenay-won.

  The woman giggled. “Cnāwan. It means ‘to know.’ I’m the one who knows when it’s time.”

  Fynn stared, noticing how the woman’s body had light coming from it. “Time for what?”

  “You’ll see. You have special abilities that have been lying latent within you, Fynn. It’s time to awaken them.” She touched Fynn’s forehead and a jolt of energy rushed through her body. “Trust the prophecy. The time is upon us so we must prepare.”

  Suddenly, Fynn felt something tug at her shoulder. It was annoying and kept trying to pull her away. She tried to shake it off; she wanted to stay and talk with the woman.

  The woman changed back into the cat and scampered farther into the forest. Fynn wanted to follow but the tugging was more insistent.

  “Fynn. Fynn. Wake up!” Eloise shook her more firmly now.

  She woke with a start and, in her sleepy stupor, asked, “Where’s the cat?”

  “What cat?”

  Fynn looked around and located the cat at the foot of the bed. It appeared to have a goofy grin and, with its head tipped sideways, eyed her up and down. “Oh,” she mumbled.

  Eloise took that to mean that Fynn was just dreaming. “You overslept. You have ten minutes to dress and make your bed before the second bell rings for breakfast. Don’t be late!”

  Fynn realized that Eloise didn’t see the cat or, if she did, she said nothing about it. She quickly jumped up and made the bed. In the process, she discreetly felt under the pillow to make sure the box was still there and breathed a sigh of relief when she touched it. She wanted to put the necklace on but there were others in the room so she’d have to wait. She was afraid if anyone saw it, that they would tell and it would be taken away from her for sure.

  Fynn dressed and, on her way to the bathroom, noticed little Snipwit leaning against the wall, watching her. Their eyes met but the girl said nothing. Enough was revealed in the vibes to let Fynn know she had to find a way to keep the box with her – something didn’t feel right.

  Cnāwan stayed by her side the whole time. It quickly became obvious that no one else saw the cat. Fynn didn’t understand how that was possible but she didn’t care at this point. She was happy to have a friend.

  Chapter 7

  _______________________

  “Yes, Susan?” the instructor asked.

  “I don’t feel well. Can I go to the bathroom?”

  Fynn turned around and saw it was little Snipwit who had asked to leave class.

  The whole morning Fynn had been trying to find a way back to the box. She couldn’t believe how tightly they controlled the kids. Before breakfast, when she came out of the bathroom, Miss Snipworth was waiting for her. Eloise must have told how Fynn overslept because she received a lecture on the way to breakfast about rules and, if they weren’t followed, there were consequences.

  The kids weren’t allowed to leave the dining hall until everyone was done eating. Then they were escorted directly into the classrooms. Fynn was told to sit at the front, where she was introduced to the class.

  This place feels like a prison! And, now she had the feeling that little Snipwit was up to something.

  “Do you want to see the nurse?” the instructor asked.

  “No. I just want to go to the bathroom.”

  “You may leave but come back as soon as you can.”

  Little Snipwit’s eyes darted to Fynn as she stood to leave but then she quickly looked down. Fynn wanted to stop her but didn’t want to make a scene. She was trapped. Should she ask to leave class also? She was afraid it would look suspicious.

  Something touched her leg. She looked down and saw the cat’s paw resting on her shin. Then in her head, she heard the words: It will be okay. Trust.

  Suddenly, the dream, where the cat had turned into a woman, came to mind. Fynn knew she had an ability to hear other people’s thoughts, at times, but to hear a cat’s thoughts...that seemed too incredible.

  I’m not really a cat. I’m just using this body to conserve my energy.

  Fynn’s brow wrinkled as she looked at the cat. Cnāwan?

  Yup. It’s me. The cat’s head tipped sideways.

  Fynn tried to give her attention back to the instructor and play the part, for now, but the whole time she was thinking – this is too wild!

  Suddenly, an alarm blared throughout the building.

  “That’s the fire alarm,” the instructor announced. “Line up single file and walk out to the courtyard. Quickly!”

  Fynn was more than happy to do as she was told in this case. She couldn’t get outside fast enough and welcomed the diversion to have a reprieve from that tomb and all those trapped vibrations.

  ~~~

  Fynn sat on the ground and leaned against a tree. Her eyes were closed and she relished the warm sun on her face but was preoccupied with the box. She hoped the alarm going off meant little Snipwit had to leave the building before she could get to it. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She made a promise to keep it safe. It had barely been twenty four hours since she came to Happy Days but, already, it felt like forever.

  Cnāwan was curled up in a ball on
her lap, also enjoying the sun, and seemingly unconcerned about everything.

  A shadow crossed Fynn’s face and a voice said, “Hi.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and saw a boy standing before her. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone with him. Looking toward the courtyard, she noticed the other kids were still playing. The boy was alone.

  As it turned out, the fire alarm had sounded because a fire broke out in the girls’ kitchen. Apparently, lunch was toast – figuratively speaking. So, the short reprieve outside turned into a longer break. Fynn got as far away from the building, and the other kids, as she thought they would allow. She found the biggest tree and planted herself on the opposite side from the courtyard, out of view. If they really needed to find her, they could. Otherwise, she didn’t want to be bothered.

  She looked back at the boy. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. He ran his fingers through his blond hair and tried to act casual as he plopped on the ground to join her. She knew he was nervous. When he bent over, she caught a glimpse of something hanging around his neck. He sat back on his heels and a small lump could be seen under his shirt.

  “My name is Tibby.”

  She studied him and then said, “I’m Fynn.”

  Cnāwan lifted her head and sniffed the air, in Tibby’s direction. She jumped off Fynn’s lap and walked over to him, sniffing the entire time. She put her paws on his leg to reach his face and sniffed around it.

  Tibby laughed nervously and put his hands out to hold her back. “Where did the cat come from?”

  Fynn sat upright. “You can see the cat?!?”

  Cnāwan was persistent, pushing against his hands to get closer. She sniffed around his neck.

  “Sure I can see the cat.” He looked at Fynn and frowned at the strange question.

  Cnāwan located the bump under his shirt and rubbed her cheeks against it. She purred. Fynn heard the cat. Mmmmmm. That smell drives me c-r-a-z-y. Her tongue rolled the ‘r’ in crazy. Can I have just a little bit now? Plllleeeeezzzz???

  The cat rubbed her whole head against the bump and her eyes almost rolled to the back of their sockets. Tibby looked around to see if anyone was watching. He was clearly uncomfortable and pushed the cat back.

  Cnāwan. Control yourself, thought Fynn. The cat was still purring but she looked at Fynn, pompously raised her nose and sat on the ground between them.

  Tibby knew there wasn’t time. “Look, I don’t know how to say this...but I was told to find the girl with the cat and leave.”

  “Okay, you found me. Now you can leave.”

  She clearly wanted to be left alone and Tibby sensed it. It also made him feel all the more uncomfortable about what he was about to say. “No. What I meant was...to leave here.” He pointed at the building. “...to escape.”

  “Escape?” Fynn shifted position onto her side, ready to jump up and run away from him quickly, if necessary. She didn’t know what kind of game he was playing but she was guarded.

  Tibby noticed one of the male teachers looking around the courtyard. “They’re starting to look for us. We have to go now!” He jumped up and grabbed Fynn’s arm with a firmness that surprised her. He pulled her to her feet and moved farther behind the tree so the teacher couldn’t see them. Even Cnāwan stood stiff like a statue beside them and shifted her eyes from side to side.

  Fynn wrenched her arm free. “I don’t know what you want but you’re going to get us in trouble.”

  “Shhh,” said Tibby. He poked his head around the tree for another look.

  Cnāwan did the same thing, as though she enjoyed playing this game. Fynn watched the cat. What are you doing, Cnāwan? No answer came. Cnāwan?? The cat looked at her and Fynn heard: I get to have some fun on this trip. Look, I can’t answer all your questions right now. I had to pick one person who could hear me and that’s you – you’re very sensitive. But you have to remember, I must conserve my energy. Your questions will have to wait. Cnāwan craned her neck to look around the tree again.

  The male teacher was talking with one of the female teachers as he pointed in their general direction. Tibby ducked back behind the tree. Cnāwan did the same.

  He grabbed Fynn’s hand again and pulled her farther into the trees, away from the courtyard. She was about to resist but reminded herself that he could see the cat when no one else could. The cat – rather the woman - in the dream told her to trust the prophecy, whatever that meant. Then she remembered her mother’s parting words – to trust that her life will play out the way it should. So, she thought, maybe this is my ticket out of here.

  “You can let go now.”

  Tibby’s cheeks flushed as he realized he was still holding her hand. “Oh. Sorry.” He gazed ahead, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

  The back of the property became denser with trees. Before stepping into the thicket, Fynn gave a fleeting look toward the courtyard. She saw little Snipwit, sitting by herself, against the building. The box Fynn’s mother had given her laid open on the girl’s lap.

  Her face flushed in anger. “Wait!”

  “Shh, they’ll hear us. This is our only chance. Believe me; we won’t get another opportunity like this.”

  Fynn studied his face, took another glimpse at the girl, and realized he was right. She didn’t want to leave without the box but, reluctantly, decided to follow his lead. They moved quickly and quietly. The ground rose, going up a slight incline, as they ducked and pushed their way through branches as quietly as possible.

  After gaining some distance from the courtyard, Fynn asked, “Who are you?”

  Tibby held his finger to his mouth and whispered, “I’ll explain when we get out of here.”

  They walked silently for several more minutes. The cat followed behind. It seemed to Fynn that they would never reach the back edge of the property and that black, iron fence. How are we going to get through that fence? We won’t make it. Then we’ll get caught and they’ll probably lock us up in solitary confinement or something. Then I’ll never get the box back. I promised.

  “The box! I have to go back. I can’t leave it.” She started to turn back toward the home.

  Tibby grabbed her arm. “You can’t. Look, all I know is that we have to leave now. We don’t belong here. We’ll find a way to get the box back.” He turned and resumed walking.

  His words caught in her mind. We don’t belong here. For a fleeting moment, it was comforting to hear it. His words validated what she had felt all along and it was enough to spur her on.

  They continued walking and spotted the black fence through the trees. As they approached, they studied it to figure out how to get through.

  A thought popped into Fynn’s head. A fence is only as strong as its weakest post. She didn’t recall ever hearing that statement before but thought about it momentarily and realized that it made sense. She scanned the fence and the energy around it when she noticed a shift at one spot. She went to check it out.

  In the meantime, Tibby tried to pull a couple iron posts apart, to no avail. Fynn returned to get him and showed him what she found. A decent sized boulder had rolled down the hill outside the perimeter. It obviously had enough momentum to bend the iron fence and weaken a couple posts. Apparently it happened long ago because the weak point was rusty and corroded which had eaten away some of the iron. Small holes appeared where the posts connected with the base of the fence, creating a weak spot.

  They found a large chunk of wood and used the post next to it as leverage and broke the corroded posts. They squeezed through the opening, climbed over the boulder and walked along the side of the hill.

  Chapter 8

  _______________________

  After hiking most the day, Fynn and Tibby found an outcropping of rocks that provided a roof overhead and crawled back as far underneath as possible. A fire couldn’t be lit to ward off the night’s chill or they risked being spotted. Instead, they gathered leaves and debris
and created a barrier, which provided some warmth. More importantly, it hid them in case someone came looking for them the next morning before they woke. They settled in for the night and lay on their sides, facing each other, with Cnāwan tucked between as they chatted about the day’s events and became acquainted.

  “How long were you at Happy Days?” whispered Fynn.

  “A couple weeks - the longest two weeks of my life!” Tibby shook his head like he was trying to shake the memory out of it.

  “Is Tibby a nickname?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Yeah. My full name is Tibernathey.” He saw Fynn scrunch her nose in an odd expression so he explained. “I was told that all the guys in my family were given that name but everyone goes by a different nickname. Like my dad’s name, Nathe, comes...came from it. My grandfather, who I never knew, was called Berny. Some great, great, great somebody, long ago, thought it was cool. It meant something to someone but I forget why. If I ever have kids, no way am I going to name my son that name.”

  Fynn giggled. As they talked, she learned that Tibby was a year older. Like most boys that age, he had a ravenous appetite and needed to eat often. He also admitted that he had no will power when it came to food; he couldn’t control his cravings.

  “So when did this food thing start?”

  “Right after I was taken to the home.”

  He was relieved that she hadn’t freaked out on him earlier that afternoon when he made food pop out of thin air. They had been quietly walking through the woods and softly chatting. Fynn watched Tibby as he spoke but then glanced ahead to check her footing. When she looked back, he was mid bite into a triple-decker club sandwich. He gazed at her sheepishly as he pulled the sandwich from his mouth. With mayonnaise oozing from his lips, he gave a muffled, “Sorry.”

  Shortly after Tibby arrived at Happy Days, and had a couple of their less-than-desirable meals, he found himself craving other foods. One night, while lying awake in bed, he had a sudden desire for French fries. He wanted them so much he could smell them. A couple other boys woke and whispered that they smelled food. Tibby rolled onto his side and felt something warm. He reached for the warm spot and pulled out French fries! He stuffed them down his throat before anyone else figured it out. Ever since, when he craved something, it appeared. He had been eating hamburgers, turkey sandwiches like his mom used to make, and ice cream sundaes, to mention a few.