Out of Control - Chapter 7

Note: Not sure how I missed posting this. Sorry about that.

It was the sunlight hitting just across my eyes that woke me up. For a second, I tried to figure out where I was. My head felt heavy, although not from a hangover. It took a second for my brain to join the rest of me awake and catch up. I remembered last night at the party, meeting Sophia, dancing, talking for hours.

And what happened after.

A sudden gasp beside me made me turn. Sophia sat up straight in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her green eyes were wide with panic, darting between me and the door.

“Who? What?” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice calm, trying not to startle her more. “I’m Kyle. We met at the party last night. We came back here after.”

She shook her head, pressing herself against the headboard. “No, I mean, yeah. The party, but I don’t...”

“We talked for a long time about art history and your parents wanting you to major in business instead.” I shifted to sit up slowly, maintaining distance between us. “You told me about growing up in Atlanta.”

“I remember being at the party.” Sophia ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “But everything after that is fuzzy? How much did I drink?”

“You seemed fine when we were talking, but I was also drinking, so … maybe I didn’t judge it right. You were totally coherent when we came back here and ... I would swear you weren’t drunk. You were making jokes about Caravaggio and telling me about your favorite exhibits at the High Museum. If I’d thought for a second you were too drunk I would never …”

“No, it’s...” Sophia pressed her palm against her temple. “It must have hit me harder than I realized. I just ... I don’t black out. Ever. I’m always careful about that.”

“I’m so sorry. I should go,” I said, sliding out of bed and quickly pulling on my underwear and starting to gather up my clothes. “I’m so sorry. I really thought…”

“Wait.” Sophia’s voice was steadier now. “You said we talked about art history?”

“Yeah, for like two hours.” I paused while pulling on my jeans. “You were explaining the difference between Baroque and Rococo styles, and how Caravaggio was basically the bad boy of the Renaissance.”

“That does sound like me. I kind of remember. You said ... you said everything would be okay?”

“Yeah. When you were worried about your parents, and about picking the wrong major.”

“Right.” She nodded slowly. “And it felt okay when you said that. Everything felt okay.”

“I’m glad, but I should have noticed something was off and not come back here.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Sophia wrapped the sheet tighter around herself. “I just... maybe the alcohol did sneak up on me.”

“I’m going to go. I’m really sorry, Sophia. I really am not the kind of guy that would take advantage of someone like that.”

“Kyle?” She called as I reached the door. “It’s okay. I mean, I’m freaked out cause this never happens, but ... I believe you. About last night.”

“Good. Take care of yourself.”

The walk out her door into the open courtyard between apartments and hurried out to the street to begin my walk of shame. She hadn’t seemed drunk at all, we’d had real conversations, made conscious decisions. But she was so freaked out when she woke up this morning, now I wasn’t so sure.

Back in my dorm room, I sat down at my desk and tried to make sense of all this. Sophia’s reaction had been shocking, but it wasn’t the only weird one I’d run into lately. I may be slow, but it was impossible to not notice the pattern. Sophia sleeping with me and then being surprised she was when I was positive she wasn’t that drunk. A completely sober, or at least at the beginning, Emily offering to ditch her boyfriend to be with me, when we’d literally just met. The weird interaction with Professor Finch outside of the hospital when she’d just given up her accusation about what really happened at the lab, turned around and walked away. Even the thing with the Dean, where he’d been ready to kick me out of school and then just dropped it.

It all started after the accident. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was what was actually happening. There was an answer that came to mind, but I’d dismissed it out of hand as crazy. And yet, I could find no other explanation for what could possibly be happening.

“This is stupid,” I said, pacing between my bed and Alex’s. “That’s not how the world works.”

Worse, how would I know. If it was true, and that was a big if, I didn’t want something like what happened with Sophia and Emily to happen again. If I could somehow do something, I didn’t want to just be out there saying stuff, and hurting people without even realizing it.

Of course, if I was wrong, which was likely, and this was all just some kind of weird happenstance, I didn’t want people thinking I was insane either.

What I needed to do was test it out, and see if this was as crazy as it seemed. But carefully.

I grabbed my backpack and headed to the library, which I’d seen some people at yesterday when I’d walked to the cafeteria. School hadn’t started yet, but people were preparing for stuff still I guess and as other kids were moving into the dorms, it would probably be pretty distracting to try and work there.

I was pretty sure there, or maybe one of the labs, was where Alex ran off to every day. When I got there, the main floor was mostly empty, but I did see a guy sat alone at one of the tables, typing on his laptop.

I took a deep breath, told myself this would be nothing and I’d see how stupid this was, and headed over to him. He looked kind of annoyed that I’d picked a seat across from him to sit down, considering almost every table in the place was empty, but he did what most people did, and just tried to ignore me.

I pulled out my own laptop to try and seem busy and silently focused on him.

‘Stand up and do a dance,’ I thought as hard as I could.

Nothing happened. He just kept typing. Good. That was a good sign. However, the weird stuff had all happened when I’d said stuff, so if I was going to test this for real, I needed to actually try something.

“Hey,” I said. “Would you mind switching seats with me?”

“Sure, whatever,” He looked up a little perplexed and then said, “Sure. Whatever.”

He pushed his laptop over toward where I was sitting while I got up, and moved around the table, taking the seat I’d just been sitting in. He didn’t sound like a robot or anything though, so maybe it had been politeness. Another way to avoid conflict, like when he’d said nothing when I’d sat across from him.

“Can I see your laptop for a second?”

He paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” He said, and passed it over.

On the screen was a half-finished internship application. The deadline timestamp at the top showed less than an hour left. He had a word document open with what looked like some kind of cover letter he was typing.

I noticed a USB drive plugged into the side. I quickly saved the file and then saved it as a new file, same name, on the USB drive, before opening back up his original file. Giving me his laptop was way outside of the realm of politeness, especially without asking why I wanted it, but if I wanted to see something else.

“Here you go,” I said, sliding it back. “Now delete that word file.”

His face contorted.

“But I...” He moved the cursor to the file.

As he said it, I felt a sharp pain stab behind my eyes. Nothing like the explosion headache I’d had a few other times since the explosion, but definitely noticeable.

“Man, that would have been such a good opportunity,” he said, staring at the screen. “Maybe it’s for the best though. They probably wouldn’t want someone like me anyway.”

“No, you should apply to it. I think I saw you saved it to your USB drive.”

“Oh thank god,” he said, finding the file. “God that’s lucky. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No problem. Hey, forget this conversation happened, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was already back to typing. “Paying me absolutely no attention, in spite of how truly wild that conversation had been.”

My mind was going a thousand miles an hour as I left the library. This was real. Mind control. Like in a comic book. It was the only explanation for how that happened.

Well, not the only explanation. Weird stuff happens sometimes. Maybe he was just one of those laid back people who nothing bothered. Far-fetched, but maybe.

It was getting close to lunch, so I headed toward the cafeteria. I wanted to try a few more times, just to make sure. I also wanted to try someone not my own age. The dean and the professor were both older than me, but I wanted to be sure. If I was testing this, I was doing it for real, which meant a sample size and checking some variables, as my science teacher in high school talked about. Time to test this on someone who wasn’t a student.

I got in line and reached one of the serving stations.

“Could I get the chicken sandwich with extra fries?”

Last time they’d charged extra for additional fries.

“Of course, honey,” she said, loading my plate with a mountain of fries. No mention of an upcharge.

“Actually, could I come back there and see how everything works?”

She held the door open, the little half-swinging gate thing, and said, “Come on back.”

I walked around and stood in the kitchen area, surrounded by industrial appliances and the smell of frying oil. “You probably shouldn’t be serving fries today. Maybe you should throw them out?”

“Well...” She looked at the fry station. “They are on the menu, but maybe we shouldn’t be serving them. Kids gotta eat healthy, right?”

“Actually, never mind, you should probably stick to the menu like normal. Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. The school pays attention to nutrition and whatnot, and I’m not sure my boss would be thrilled if I suddenly started throwing food out.”

That was what made this confusing. They didn’t just follow my directions. They seemed to be convincing themselves of it, finding a way to rationalize doing what I’d told them. The guy with the laptop had done the exact same thing.

So not mind control. Or, at least, not exactly mind control. Yeah, they were doing what I told them, but it seemed like they were doing it in a way that was their style, and not just following orders.

“Could you give me the money from the register? I’ll take off after that.”

She blinked hard, like she was trying to figure something out, and then said, “Sure, don’t want to keep you waiting.”

As she moved toward the register, I was hit with a wave of pain like an ice pick to the temple. Definitely worse than the library headache.

She opened up the register and pulled out a stack of bills, holding them out to me.

“Actually,” I said quickly, “put that back. Just keep doing your job like normal.”

“Okay, as long as you have enough to pay?”

“I’m fine. I have money,” I said, handing the total for my lunch. “Just forget about this whole conversation.”

“No problem, sugar. Enjoy your lunch.”

I had to almost shake myself as I grabbed my tray and headed into the cafeteria. I just couldn’t believe this was real. The girl behind the counter was just going to empty the register and hand it to me, like it was nothing.

But what even was causing this?

I was taken out of my thoughts when I saw a face I thought I recognized, one of the girls I’d seen at the scavenger hunt, the one that had totally blown me off.

So far, I’d tied this with strangers who, while they didn’t know me, also didn’t have a reason to not listen to me, other than what I was asking being absurd. This girl though, she’d made it pretty clear she thought I was way beneath her.

She’d be a real test.

She was sitting alone at a table near the window, dressed like she was when I’d talked to her before, stylish in a well put together way that even a neanderthal like myself could tell was done with taste and probably a lot of money.

“Excuse me. What are you doing?” she asked when I sat down across from her, using that same annoyed tone as last time.

“Just sitting down to eat. I figured you’d want some company. You don’t mind if I join you, right?”

I made sure that last phrase was a statement and not a question.

“Yeah, I guess company’s fine,” she said, and then tilted her head. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

We sort of met. I was doing a scavenger hunt the other day. I came up and talked to you for a second.”

“Oh. You’re one of those dumb frat boys.”

It was weird, her tone was dismissive and filled with disdain, but she wasn’t asking me to leave. If anything, she was engaging me in conversation, even though she clearly didn’t like me.

It was a weird combination that I doubted existed anywhere else.

“I am. I’m guessing, the way you said that, you have a thing about frat guys? Be honest with me. It’ll make life easier.”

“Some frat guys are fine. But I recognized one of the Alpha Sigma guys the other day and figured if you were with them, you weren’t worth my time.”

“Why wouldn’t we be worth your time?”

“Normally, I’d say reputation. But since I’m being honest, it’s because most guys from Alpha Sig have no useful connections and are generally poor.”

I let out a short laugh. “That’s a little harsh.”

“I have standards I’m expected to live up to.”

“Sounds kind of shallow.”

“That’s only because you don’t have money. If you did, you’d know it’s reasonable.”

“So, what? You don’t talk to people unless they come from money?”

“It’s not like that. There are always people who will try to use me for what I have, and I have to guard against it.”

“You’re awfully young to be this jaded.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“If you’ve never given people like me a chance, how do you even know this is true?”

“I haven’t. But my father made sure I knew how to be responsible. What kinds of people are worth my time.”

“That sounds lonely.”

She hesitated, then nodded slightly. “It can be.”

“I imagine people with money can still use you too, right?”

“You know, that’s the one thing that never really matched up with what my dad told me? Cause you’re right. The ‘right’ guys I dated in high school all wanted to use me too, just for different stuff. They didn’t care about my money, but they really cared about my dad and what he could do for them.”

“So guys like that and guys like me aren’t all that different.”

“I guess, except they were all boring and annoying. You have no idea how dull those guys are. Makes me wonder if I should just give it up.”

“Dating?”

“Yeah.”

“But you haven’t actually given guys like me a chance either. Maybe instead of everyone being terrible, your dad’s just wrong. I think ... people are people. Some will try to use you, and some won’t. You’ve limited yourself so much by only dating people of a certain profile that you’ve probably avoided actually meeting someone worth it.”

She studied me for a moment and I could see she was really considering it. “Maybe.”

“But you’re talking to me, even though I’m clearly among the undeserving.”

“I wanted the company,” she said, mirroring my words from earlier. “And you’re not the worst. Kind of cute in a working class kind of way.”

“So, do you have friends?”

“I have some sorority sisters. But ... I’m not sure we’re actually friends. They smile to your face, but everyone’s trying to tear each other down, even when there’s nothing to gain.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

I actually felt kind of bad for her. She clearly didn’t like the social circles she was in, but had been brought up to live a very specific way under very specific rules.

It made me glad for who my parents were. They’d taught me that everyone was worth a chance and made sure to get me involved with as many different groups and people as possible. Mom always said the thing that breeds racism and the like isn’t hate, it’s ignorance. People fear what they don’t know.

The same was probably true of rich people too. This girl, she’d only ever hung with rich people, and she’d been told her whole life the “poors” weren’t worth her time.

Maybe this was my wanting penance for what happened with Sophia, or maybe I was feeling sorry for her that she clearly felt sad about being isolated, but I wanted to do something to help.

“Maybe you should get rid of this ‘no poor people’ rule.”

“Maybe. You seem okay. A little pushy but ... okay.”

“What if you tried it out, being friends with someone like me.”

She looked very skeptical, although not disgusted, which I thought was probably the response I was going to get, and why I’d tried to hedge my statement as an observation and not a suggestion.

“I’m not hitting on you, I swear. Think of me like training wheels for what it would be like if you ditched the no poor people.”

“I mean ... maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

Maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear, but she sounded almost ... hopeful.

I pulled out my phone and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number in. If you’re feeling sad or want to talk, call me. And if you want to get really crazy, we could even hang out if you’re bored some day.”

She took the phone without any hesitation, typing in her information before passing it back. “I might take you up on that.”

“I’ll leave you to finish in peace.” I stood up, gathering my mostly untouched tray. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah...” She looked surprised. “It was. I swear, I’m not normally so honest with people, but... it felt nice.”

“Bye,” I said, turning to leave.

I dumped my tray in the trash on my way out. This confirmed my suspicions as much as the girl behind the counter being willing to give me the money from the register. This girl, whose name was Emma based on what she put in my phone, was definitely would not have talked to me anyway.

Although, so far unless I told someone to be friends with me they followed my commands but kept their own personality while doing it. The last parts, I’d even made sure not to give any kind of commands, and she’d still seemed like she really liked the idea of having a friend.

The other thing I noticed was that I didn’t get a headache with her. Not a single one. I couldn’t help but wonder why she was different.

But, all my tests proved that this thing I had was real. I had some kind of power and I was making people do what I told them. It was just too wild, and it was making my head spin.

I needed to go and think about all of this and what the hell it meant.