From Within and Without
Chapter One: Stirrings

It was the sound of buzzing in her ears that awoke Amy. It wasn’t the alarm clock, which read half-past eight, and wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. It was, she realized a second later, merely within her mind. The small shiver down the back of her neck, shooting straight from the base of her skull down to between her shoulder blades, was merely confirmation.

Rolling over on her side, she squinted at the figure she perceived to be standing at the side of her bed. She couldn’t really see it, not when she was only half awake.

“Please go away,” she muttered, rolling back onto her other side, “S’too early for this.”

With an indignant crackle in her head, the spirit vanished. Beside her, Sergey stirred.

“Huh?” he mumbled, cracking one dark brown eye open, “Someone here?”

“Go back to sleep,” she said, “No one’s here.”

He mumbled something indistinct, not stirring at all until the alarm went off at nine, like it always did. Sure enough, it was just as Amy was drifting off to sleep, vague images forming in her mind. Groaning, she finally awoke.

Amy Matthews and Sergey Volkov had been together for about two years, but it was only until the end of the previous year that they had decided to move in together. Still, they had settled into a remarkably good routine – Sergey would get up and make breakfast, because Amy tended to have, if not morning classes, then morning shifts at work. That day, it was class; Thursday, it was work, before back to class Friday. Saturday was a brief but blessed respite from both.

They shared an apartment that was solidly within Amy’s price range, which meant it could, with a little work, be almost considered dumpy. The walls had cracks in them and the hot water was unpredictable at the best of times, but it was livable. Amy cranked up the hot water on the squeaking taps and threw herself underneath it, desperate to get what little she could.

Sergey made eggs that morning, sunny side up. He always smiled when he made them, as if they were the subjects of some private joke.

They ate in relative quiet, except for the sounds of the television on in the other room. There was nothing on except the morning news, which was currently giving out a traffic report. It was just as well; with his bleary eyes and dark brown hair mashed to his head or sticking up in strange places, Sergey didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk.

Amy checked her watch.

“Time to go,” she sighed, “Can you get the laundry while I’m out?”

“Sure.”

“See you after class,” she said, and was rewarded with a firm kiss. For only being half-awake, he certainly concentrated enough to do that.

It was fairly warm outside, considering the time, and Amy felt quite relaxed as she began her usual commute. It felt like it was going to be a nice day, she thought, even as the crowd was jostling her around. Crowds unnerved her a little, and not just because of their size; sometimes not all of the crowd’s population was visible, and the tingling in her spine never failed to instill some sense of foreboding in her, no matter how ill-placed.

The subway station was no more crowded than usual, although it seemed like the dead were having some sort of convention that day. The woman just ahead of her, lugging a suitcase, had a sort of faint distortion about her that her mind perceived as an older man. Her father, perhaps.

Or, when the subway doors slid open with a whoosh, and she stepped inside, the spirit of a woman passed her by. She couldn’t tell, but it appeared to be a businesswoman. A confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions shot through her mind in a second. Before she could even hope to sort them out, the woman was gone. She didn’t know she was dead, she realized with some glumness. She was going back to work as though nothing had happened.

The one thing that wracked her nerves the most had nothing paranormal about it at all: two stops down from where she’d boarded, while she was slouching in the hard plastic seat and wondering if anyone was finished with the paper yet, a woman walked in. The first thing that struck Amy was the woman’s glossy black hair, styled to perfection, and wearing a skirt just a little too short.

Roxanne?

Her breath caught in her chest as she scrutinized the woman – no, she realized with relief, it wasn’t her sister. Roxanne wasn’t Hispanic, and Roxanne didn’t have brown eyes. Roxanne had her greyish-blue eyes; her porcelain skin; and her brown hair. All the hair dye in Manhattan couldn’t change the fact that her hair was the same mousey brown as Amy’s.

Just the mere thought of her made her pull a face. Not that any day was a good day to think of Roxanne, but she was usually much better at putting her twin out of her mind. Perhaps it was due to seeing three spirits in one morning. Yes, she reassured herself, that was it. Dealing with the dead could make even the sanest person a little edgy, she thought wryly.

Grabbing a coffee when she stepped off the subway – no, it wasn’t ‘get-rid-of-Roxanne-thoughts’ coffee, she told herself, it was coffee for the sake of coffee – she then began the additional trek to class.

***

There was on thing, she decided, that had to be worse than getting up early for class, and that was getting up early for this class.  Normally, she didn’t mind English, but her professor had a fascinating habit of taking even the most interesting book, and completely ruining it by the way she would drone on and on about it.  She had never even heard of the author they were currently covering before she had to buy the book, and now she was starting to despise him already.

Her professor, on the other hand, was the most animated she had seen her in a while.  It was one reason she disliked this author; her professor was describing his prose in such a way that she suspected she was having a love affair with him.  It made the subject all the more grueling.

Of course, that wasn’t the worse of it.  After this class, which was bearable at best, she had Trigonometry, which she could spend the whole class time paying attention, and still be lost on the concepts.  It wasn’t so much she was bad at math, like the majority of the human population, it was just that the concepts of Trigonometry were so over her head, she was lucky if she could escape the class with a low C.  So long as she didn’t have the take the class again, she didn’t mind.

It would put a dent in her GPA, but there were some things she was willing to sacrifice.

The only thing she was glad for was that this wasn’t an eight a.m. class, something she had chosen not to experience just yet.  She hadn’t wanted to solely take classes in the afternoon, something her classmates back in high school were constantly planning around, but she wanted that extra hour of sleep before she started her day.  She wanted to enjoy her freedom now, because, from what her older brother told her, later in her college career, there would be some classes she was required to take that was only offered at that early time.

But she figured at that point, she would be older, and more inclined to get up earlier.  At least she hoped that was the case.

She was a little bit more than relived when the class ended, and she could start to prepare her mind for the next class.  She had ten minutes to get to the next building, and it usually took her about two, so long as there wasn’t anyone blocking her way.  It seemed the rest of the campus was out in full force, but she weaved easily in and out of the crowd.  Crowds didn’t bother her, so long as there wasn’t a huge clump of people standing in her way, blocking her path and refusing to let her by.  Most people she could gently move aside without their knowledge, and most people didn’t even realize she had gone by.

Lillian was waiting for her outside her classroom, looking excited.  This was Lillian’s first class of the day, although she was taking Algebra, not having been able to pass the math placement test, and thus, having to take a lower class.  She had left her roommate snoozing when she had left for the dining hall to brad some breakfast, up from another restless sleep.  Lillian had some news for her, she could tell, something she had wanted to tell her, but couldn’t because they hadn’t seen each other – conscious – since the previous evening, which Lillian had been preparing for an evening out with her boyfriend.

She figured she might as well get this over with, since she only had a few minutes before she was late.  They had assigned seats in this class, anyway, so there was less of a chance that someone would steal her seat.

“Oh, my God, Tri,” Lillian said as soon as she spotted the older girl.  “You’ll never guess who we saw out last night.”

Trinity Blanch sighed.  Lillian Peters had a habit of...exaggerating her experiences, making them seem more epic then they actually were.  She had a feeling it was just a casual spotting, possibly from behind a bush or something, but Lillian was making a huge deal out of it.  “Your grandmother,” Trinity said, her usual response to that question.  She was usually right about half the time.

Lillian swatted at her.  “Good God, no.  I saw...well, you know.”

“You always spot ‘well, you know’,” Trinity pointed out.  “I have no idea why you think we’re a perfect match, or that I have a crush on him.  I don’t go for ‘jocks’.  He’s your type, and I don’t have a crush on him.  Besides, I don’t believe it.  I don’t think he’d be out that late on a school night.”

“I did, I did see him.”

“Well, good for you,” Trinity said, rolling her eyes as she inched her way to the classroom.  “I don’t see why you need to tell me about it.”

“You don’t want to know he had a girl with him.”

Trinity waved her off.  “I don’t care,” she said in a slightly sing-song tone.  “I don’t know why you think I do.”

Lillian crossed her arms.  “You refuse to have a lovelife, and it’s not healthy, Tri.  All you do all night is sit around the room, watching TV or doing homework.  You need to get out once and a while.”

“I get out,” Trinity sighed, pausing outside the room.  “I just don’t want to go out with the guys you’re trying to hook me up with.  I don’t go for ‘bulky meatheads’.  I’d rather hang out with someone who could stimulate conversation.”

“You are no fun,” Lillian said as she glanced at the clock on the hallway.  “We’ll discuss this later,” she warned as she gravitated towards her classroom.

Trinity rolled her eyes, stepping into her own.  The sad thing was she’d much rather had that conversation right now than be in Trigonometry, but at least this was just an hour class.  She could survive that, at least.

***

After class, Amy could have, in theory, headed back home, but between the commute there and back again, there wouldn’t have been much time. It was easiest to simply kill time on campus one way or another, and wait for Sergey so they could head to their afternoon class.

She killed time in various ways – if it was cold, rainy, or otherwise terrible outside, she would retreat indoors to the library, either to catch up on readings for class or to just read. Today was none of those things, and she relaxed on a bench outside. She took a long sip of her second coffee that day. It was too strong for her tastes, and the sugar didn’t seem to be cutting down on that, either.

“Hey there beautiful,” said a voice from off to one side. Sergey was standing there, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

Amy smiled, surprised at his appearance. “Hey there yourself. You’re here early.”

“Yeah, I thought we could catch lunch before class,” he said, checking his watch, “There’s time.”

“For you I’d make time,” she said, her smile broadening.

Lunch was at the small deli they usually went to when they were in the area. It seemed specifically designed to cater to the college crowd, but it seemed the students went for brand names. It was only mildly busier than usual, which only meant that there were perhaps only one or two tables free rather than the usual three to four.

Sergey pulled out his textbook and set it on the table.

“One of these days you’re gonna get mustard right in the middle of the book,” she said with a grin.

“Don’t say that. Then it might actually happen,” he teased, rapping his knuckles twice against the tabletop, which was designed to resemble hardwood. The many chips and dings against the surface lessened the effect.

“I’m pretty sure it has to be actual wood for that to work,” she teased right back, “Otherwise we’d be saying ‘knock on plastic’.”

“It looks close enough.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “If you say so, Serge.”

The lunch wasn’t a very long one, but it was enough to satisfy Amy. Any time with Sergey was enough to satisfy Amy, and she was aware of how clichéd that sounded. She wasn’t the first person to say she was in love with her boyfriend, though she felt she was less obnoxious about the whole thing than others; she had seen far too many women parade around their boyfriends like they were dogs at a pet show. The trek back to campus, and class, brought on a whole display of them.

A whole display of spirits too, for that matter. She had no idea what was causing it, but it seemed every few people she came across had some sort of distortion around them that indicated, to her, a spirit. It was almost headache inducing. Some days she thought being able to see the spirit, like some other mediums, would be infinitely preferable than just hoping they’d give her a mental picture of themselves.

“Everything okay?” Sergey cut in, as they squeezed through the doorway to the medical science building. They found themselves shoved against a wall as a crowd of other students passed by.

“Yeah,” she said, “Its fine. Lot of spirits around today, that’s all.”

“Huh,” he said, in his usual way. He didn’t quite understand the subtleties of mediumship and spirits, but he knew enough to get by. With Amy as his girlfriend, he had to. “Maybe they’re celebrating something.”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin, pushing herself away from the wall and heading for the stairs to the second floor. Sergey followed.

Developmental Genetics wasn’t exactly a course for someone looking to skate through college, but Amy and Sergey did well enough. It was really rather fascinating to her, knowing what she did about her own ability. She’d read about how they’d tested mediums, done scans of their brain while they were working to see what was going on in there, and the results always fascinated her, even if they said nothing unusual was going on. (The test results never seemed to lean in any one direction). That was why she took it, and that was why she sat there for what felt like ages, scribbling complex shorthand notes until her hand cramped up. It was all a brilliant, and somewhat uncomfortable, process of self-discovery.

“Is it just me,” Sergey said as they left class, “Or was he going twice as fast today?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “I didn’t notice anything. He seemed to speed up near the end, but everyone does that.”

“Thank God I can use a laptop next class,” he said, “I never understood why some profs put a ban on them. I mean, if they’re going to play games or go online during class, yeah, it’s distracting, but it’s their own fault if they fail.”

“I know,” Amy said, “Who knows why? Maybe he thinks having our hands seize up is educational.”

“I didn’t come to America to ruin my hand,” Sergey said with mock-offense, the effect somewhat lessened by the fact that he was grinning, “I need it!”

They’d reached a crossroads now, between two sets of stairs; one going downwards to the front of the building, and one going upwards to the third storey. Sergey had class soon enough. They paused, hovering as close as they could to the corners so as not to block the flow of traffic any more than necessary.

“See you at dinner,” Amy said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him; Sergey returned it with passion.

“Ugh,” she thought she heard some girl comment as she passed, “Get a room.”

“Yeah, see you then. Try not to get a headache. You look like you might.”

Amy snorted. “No spirit’s ever given me a headache yet – not a literal one, anyway. I’ll be fine. See you tonight.”

Sergey gave a quick glance at his watched before bustling up the stairs, adjusting his grip on his backpack as he went, while Amy headed downstairs and out into the sunlight. It seemed unusually warm for spring, but she didn’t mind. It made the walk to the nearest subway station all the more pleasant.

The ride back was less crowded than on the ride there, and the car she found herself in was filled by other college students and what looked to be a family of tourists. There were thankfully, she noted wryly, no spirits around any of them. Perhaps the ones she’d seen were just checking up on family, she decided. If they didn’t try and make contact with her, they usually were.

She met old Mrs. Wiebe on the stairway, a tiny woman with a shock of white and grey hair who walked with a bit of a limp. Mrs. Wiebe was in the apartment directly above theirs, and didn’t make a whole lot of noise; the worst that Amy had ever heard was the television and the cat prowling around. Currently she was holding several grocery bags, and judging by the way some of them rattled, they were filled with cat food.

“Hello there, Mrs. Wiebe,” she said, hovering on the landing. She knew Mrs. Wiebe never liked it when she offered help up stairs, but she always looked so pitiful that Amy couldn’t help but make the offer.

“Afternoon, Amy dear,” Mrs. Wiebe said, “Just get back from class?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, never straying too far from the landing, jangling her keys a bit. “But that’s it for the day.”

“Must be nice,” she said, leaning heavily on the banister, “Have you seen Arthur around, by any chance? The radio was acting funny this morning so I turned it off, but then I thought it might have been him. He usually goes to you when he can’t get a hold of me.”

Amy thought about it. That could have been the spirit from the morning, but Arthur Wiebe generally didn’t wake her. It didn’t feel like him, anyway; she would have recognized him.

“Nope,” she said, “Haven’t seen a trace of him.”

In response, she thought she heard a muffled crash from the floor upstairs. She couldn’t say for sure if was from Mrs. Wiebe’s apartment, but it seemed likely.

Mrs. Wiebe rolled her eyes. “That was either Lucy–” her tabby cat “–or Arthur. Lord, sometimes he’s more trouble than she is!”

“Aren’t they always?” Amy said, “Do you want a hand with those bags–?”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I can manage perfectly fine on my own.”

Amy smiled thinly. “Just thought I’d ask.”

By the time she got into the apartment she could hear the creaks and groans from the ceiling, followed by Mrs. Wiebe’s muffled cry of “Arthur!” With a shrug – business as usual – she shut the door behind her and went to kill a bit of time before she had to start dinner.

***

Trinity blinked, confused for a moment as she thought she felt her backpack vibrate slightly.  She was one of those people who always thought her phone was going off, but she had to set it on vibrate or else she’d never know it was ringing.  As she usually did, she swung her backpack around, digging out her phone, which she could hear was actually vibrating.

She checked the caller ID when it started vibrating again, since she had been too slow the first time to catch whoever was calling.  She smiled when she saw the name, and not caring how rude it was while still in the building, she slipping her phone open.  “Hey,” she said happily.  “Haven’t heard form you in a while.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m a terrible friend,” her best friend, Sasha Jericho, said on the other end.  “But, see, most of the population isn’t as smart as you are, and we actually have to study to get good grades.”

“I’m not that smart,” Trinity said, frowning a little.  “I mean, I was about half way ranked among our class.”

“You were a quarter of the way through, and only because you were a human being and got sick occasionally.  This crap comes easy for you, Tri, don’t deny it.”

“Fine,” she said, grumbling, since she did tend to get high B’s and low A’s on tests when she didn’t both studying.  “I won’t.  What are you calling about?”

“I can’t call by best friend and see how college life is going for her?  I mean, it’s your own fault for choosing to go to a school I never had a dream of getting accepting to, but come on!  I hardly see you anymore, and I happen to know that you don’t get out all that often unless I’m around.”

She shoved open the door leading outside the building.  She didn’t have another class for about two hours, so she would head back to the dorm room, and grab a quick lunch in the meantime.  “Have you been talking to Lili again?”

“I don’t have to talk to Lili to know how you are, Tri.  But she called me last night, and she’s worried about you.  Your lack of a want of a boyfriend disturbs her, and she was trying to get me to come to her side.”

“You’re not, are you?  I mean, I know you have Raphael and all...”

“Girl, look, I know you, and I know your goals.  I know you’re not going to be like the rest of the world, popping in and out of good and bad relationships.  You have to really like the guy to even consider doing anything with him.”

“Then why are you calling?”  She skirted a couple and a guy on a skateboard, as well as another girl walking slowly while on the phone.  Trinity was able to keep her mind on where she was as well as the conversation, and she kept up her usual quick pace, eager to get back to the dorm, and relax her mind for a bit.

“I figure Lili was probably getting on your nerves as much as she tends to get on mine.  I wanted to see if I could hit you up to catch a flick or something.  Lord knows I need a break from college life.”

Trinity blinked.  “A movie?” she asked.  “On a school night?”

“My God, Tri, we’re college students now.  You’re frikin’ eighteen.  We’re not going to stay out late, and we’re not going to get into any heavy drinking.  We’ll be fine.”

Trinity considered this as she paused to wait for the automatic door to her dorm to open.  “Well,” she said.  “A day out would be nice, and Lili will be happy.  She’ll probably leave me alone about doing nothing for a week.”

“And you’ll get to see the greatest person in your life.”

“I do miss you, and do wish you would have given this place a chance.  I think you would have made it.”

“Honey, I would have been trying to hang myself outside of a week in that place.  No.  Thank.  You.”

Trinity laughed, hanging up shortly when Sasha had to quickly tell her she’d call later to give her the details.  Sasha had decided to go to college at a place closer to their home, so that her parents wouldn’t have to pay for her room and board.  Sasha’s parents weren’t as...well off as Trinity’s, so any little think helped.  Sasha passed it off as not being smart enough to head to a major university like Trinity was determined to head to.

Trinity threw her phone back in her bag, flopping on her bed, and flipping on the TV, since there was really no point to get into anything serious, since she had lunch to deal with, and then class.  Besides, it gave her two ‘free’ hours not to seriously have to think about school work, time that she cherished. 

But would be over too soon when she would have to head out again to the dining hall for lunch, since it had been a while since either she or Lillian had had time to go out to get groceries, so both had to rely on ‘other’ means. 

Trinity was getting rather sick of the dining hall food.

***

“Serge, you think you could say something in Russian? Something like ‘leave me alone’ or ‘She doesn’t speak Russian’, or whatever you like.”

Sergey paused, halfway through taking a bite. Usually when Amy asked him to say something in Russian, it was usually something romantic, or what she hoped was romantic. She knew exactly one word of the language but didn’t have much desire to learn more, she just liked hearing him speak, which he did eagerly. He could have been saying she was an ugly slag and he said it with such tenderness that she didn’t care.

As it was, Sergey’s grandmother, Irina, had decided to pay them a visit halfway through dinner and was hovering protectively somewhere behind Sergey; the mental impression the woman gave her was that of a young blonde woman, who was pretty in a harsh sort of way. She guessed, going by her clothing, she was showing herself as she looked in the nineteen-thirties, or possibly forties.  Sometimes spirits did that. It was all a matter of which form they felt comfortable in.

Sergey’s grandmother also enjoyed bombarding Amy with a stream of mental Russian. She would have thought telepathic communication would have made the language barrier less, since communication could be done with shapes and emotions and colors instead of just plain words, but no – she kept forcing strange alphabets into Amy’s head. She got the impression that the woman enjoyed this, in a perverse sort of way.

“It’s my babushka, isn’t it?” he said, somewhat annoyed.

“Bingo,” Amy said.

“What’s she saying?”

“How would I know? I don’t speak Russian. I managed to tune out her shouting from all the times she’s done it, so now she’s pushing each letter into my head one by one. Right now I’m on what looks like a ‘B’.”

In her mind, the image of Irina made a fierce gesture.

“Your babushka’s so pushy,” she said, pushing a bit of meat around on her plate.

“She always was – is, I mean. Not to just you. She did it to my dad, too, and all of her daughter’s husbands. All of her son’s wives, for that matter.”

“At least they had the luxury of being able to understand her,” she said, “I – God, what does she want?”

The mental image of Irina was making another strange gesture; her left hand was kept, palm up, around waist level, and she was using her right to make a gesture like she was plucking something off from her palm and raise it upwards. She’d made that gesture before, but Amy wasn’t about to oblige her. The last time she had done that she had upset all the neighbors around them, even Mrs. Wiebe, and she was the most understanding one.

“I don’t know,” Sergey said, “What’s she saying?”

“I think she wants to manifest,” she said, “No way. Tell her no way.”

Sergey said something out loud, and she couldn’t resist a small smile at the language. Irina finally stopped shoving Cyrillic into her head for one moment. She made the ‘plucking’ gesture again, this time with impatience. Amy shook her head ‘no’, which was about as clear as she could make herself. Irina glared, her face set, and she repeated the gesture with more emphasis.

“What did you say?”

“That she was going to stay like she was unless she calmed down. I don’t want a repeat of last time. What did she say back?”

“That she wanted to be manifested,” Amy sighed, “She’s going to get what she wants eventually, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking sheepish, “That’s usually how it goes.”

“That’s not the way it’s going to go tonight,” she said crisply.

That was easier said than done. Irina kept hanging around the dinner table, no more than arm’s length away from Sergey at all times. She wondered if he noticed. Judging by his expression, or the expression on anyone else’s face, he (or they) usually didn’t, and she found that strange. She would have expected even a little chill down the back of the neck, or some sense that something was there, but nothing. She couldn’t say she envied them, but as Irina kept hanging around, her thin lips curled into increasing aggravation, she was beginning to.

It was as they were eating dessert that she tried mental communication again; Amy suddenly felt a very large shock in her mind, a sort of wordless request. It was more a sensation, a series of linked thoughts, rather than anything in words. Irina thought of dying, which was a sense of floating and weightlessness, which compared to how heavy she felt as alive, and she felt heavy too when Amy manifested her... It was a fascinating glimpse into her mind, the way her mind associated things with memories or fragments of conversations she couldn’t hope to understand. She associated manifestation with the smell of cigarette smoke. Amy didn’t know why, but she did.

She tried her best to ignore her as they went about cleaning up the dinner table. It was like Irina was tethered to Sergey; if he even took two steps to put something in the cabinet, she took two identical steps. Amy was, in a way, rather glad that she’d never had the opportunity to meet her when she was alive, as horrible as that sounded. She could try and block her from her mind when she was a spirit, but it was much harder to ignore a flesh and blood person standing there.

“Is she still here?”

“Yeah, she keeps hanging around you. I think she’s calmed down by now, thank God.”

“Aw, I was going to say we go out and see a movie, but she’d probably follow us, and then you wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

“We can still go. Your babushka doesn’t have to follow us. I hope she understood that.”

“I don’t think she did. She never learned English.”

“Well, damn,” she said, shutting the dishwasher. It was becoming increasingly apparent that there was going to be no way around it. He was right; if she was going to follow them, she was certain there was going to be no way to concentrate on the movie.

She sighed. So much for ignoring Irina. The woman, in her mind, seemed to look pleased, which didn’t make Amy feel any better. She knew she shouldn’t have felt like this, but her own grandmother got along fine with Sergey. To have the feeling reciprocated on his end would have been nice.

“It’s a good thing I never met her when she was alive,” Amy said, “I don’t think I’d stand it.”

“You’ll survive,” Sergey said encouragingly, “She can’t be any worse than my mother.”

“That’s not exactly encouraging,” Amy drawled, “You’re scaring me off the woman before I’ve even seen her!”

Sergey grinned. “I think it’s a Russian thing. Come on, solnyshko, let’s get it over with. I’ll tell her to behave. She always seemed to like me most; she should listen.”

Amy had once, when they were starting to get serious, tried to explain about her Ability, and mediumship in general. It seemed right to let him know, and he had been surprisingly okay with the idea. She had never witnessed the procedure from the other end of it, but there had been consistent reports from spirits of just how it worked. One thing that had been said, over and over, was that mediums in particular had a very bright aura around them; to a spirit they stood out a mile against everyone else without even realizing it. That was why they were drawn to them; it was no different than a moth to light. Mediums were like lighthouses, she’d said.

“‘Lighthouse’ isn’t a very pretty name. I can’t go around calling you that,” Sergey had said. She remembered the whole thing rather vividly; the way he had been relaxed on the couch, one arm draped around her shoulders and pulling her close. It had been winter, and he had been wearing such a soft sweater.

“You don’t have to call me anything,” she’d pointed out, “That’s just...how it is.”

“I think it’s neat,” he’d said, “One of my sisters took me to a medium once, but all we did was sit around in dim light for about an hour and then had lunch. I didn’t hear anything about light. Just that someone’s Uncle Feodor was getting along very well in Heaven in some sort of cosmic apartment.”

“Yeah, they used to do that back then,” she’d said vaguely. She had never recalled going to a séance in complete darkness, let alone being given food after, but quickly reminded herself that they probably did things different in Europe.

“What about solnyshko?” he’d said suddenly, “That fits nicely, I think. You’re like the sun to them.”

Solnyshko meant ‘little sun’, and Sergey had been quite taken with the name. He said it with such love that she didn’t care if it might have been a little cheesy. She was his little sun.

Though at that moment, it felt more like a storm brewing than sunshine. Trying not to think of how Irina seemed to always get what she wanted, and how Amy was only enabling it, she raised her hand. Thin silvery wisps seemed to form out of nothing more than the dust floating in the air, gradually thickening until the little tornado had assumed roughly Irina’s height – two inches shorter than her – and gradually, her shape. The outline was rather crude at first, like someone had fashioned her out of clay but wasn’t very good with sculpture, but the details gradually filled themselves in. The face, generic at first, developed the woman’s narrow nose, and the slight bit of fat around the cheeks and chin; the arms went from flabby to muscular; veins started filling themselves in, weaving all over her arms and hands, clothes started weaving themselves around her form...

Irina Morozov, aged about thirty, crossed her arms and glanced between Amy and Sergey with some sort of disdain, shifting her weight from side to side. She probably didn’t like the feeling too much, but Amy couldn’t do anything about that. When she spoke to Sergey, her voice was hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken in a long time. It wasn’t raised above normal speaking tone, though – a small relief.

Sergey said something back, his voice soothing with an undercurrent of frustration. Irina drew herself up to her full height and said something back. Amy watched the exchange dully.

“Well?” she prompted, “What’s she want?”

“She wants me to check on Yuliya,” he said, baffled, “She can’t get through to her.”

Amy found herself frowning. “If she’d said that instead of just glaring at me, I might have actually done what she asked. What else is she saying?”

“That we’re living in sin and we should get married,” he said, “The usual. Oh, and that she’s happy that I’m going to medical school. She thinks the whole college is a medical school. I’m not going to tell her otherwise.”

“But mostly your sister?”

“Uh,” Sergey said, and then he and Irina exchanged a few more words. She supposed she would either have to learn Russian or get used to having Sergey translate if she was ever going to meet his parents, but she wasn’t meeting his parents right now.

“Yeah,” he said, “Mostly Yuliya. I think she just wants to make sure she’s okay.”

“All right, then,” Amy said, “If that’s all she has to say, then tell her thank you, we’ll check on her for you.”

Irina gave her a haughty look, and after a hug from Sergey that looked terribly awkward, Amy was all too relieved to make her physical form dissipate, and, a moment after that, Irina left. Amy breathed a sigh of relief.

“So,” she said, while Sergey looked a little sheepish, “How about that movie? I’ll go check the listings.”

***

Trinity was surprised to find Lillian back at the dorm when she trudged back from her final class of the day.  It was the worst, she had decided, class she had.  It wasn’t so much that she didn’t get the concepts, it was just the class itself, and the way the professor had to explain topics over and over again to those who just couldn’t grasp it.  So a lot of them, the ones who understood the first time, would leave feeling a little frustrated, and a lot like they hadn’t accomplished much in the class. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, despite herself, as she threw her bag on the floor beside her desk.  “I mean, what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she suggested, looking surprised.

Trinity sighed.  “No, I mean now.  You usually head over to Gabe’s to ‘study’ or something after class.  You don’t usually come home.”

Lillian waved her off.  “I’ll see Gabe later tonight.  I have to get ready, first.”

“Ready for what?” Trinity asked a little suspiciously.

“Oh, I’m going on a double date,” she said happily.

“A double date?  With who?”

Lillian grinned at her, and Trinity felt her heart drop a little.  “Oh...Oh, no.  You didn’t, did you?”

Lillian looked at her innocently.  “Did what?” she asked.  “I didn’t do anything.  Your friend Sasha called back, and I thought it would be fun to go on a double date with her.”

Trinity looked at her strangely.  “But we made plans to go to the movies tonight...”

“Yeah, and you’re going with the four of us.”

Trinity nearly gagged on her own spit.  “What?” she demanded.  “You’re going to make me the fifth wheel?”

“God, no,” she said.  “You’ll just be out with people.  You need to get out with people more often, Tri.”

“What I need to do is have you stop worrying about my social life,” Trinity said, exasperated.

“But you’re in college.  You need to have the normal college experiences.”

“College experiences are different for every person,” Trinity pointed out.  “I happen to be introverted, so I’d much rather spend the day in than going out.”

“Not according to Sasha.  You two used to go out all the time in high school.”

“I decided to stop ‘going out’ with her when she got trashed at some party she insisted I had to go to, and then I was pretty much abandoned since I didn’t know anyone there.  I was just lucky the party was close to my house, and I was just able to call by dad to get me.”

“Ouch, calling your father to pick you up from a party.  Not exactly a shining moment there, Tri.  Better not tell that to any potential boyfriends.”

“God, you guys better not be taking me to a bar so I could ‘find someone’.  I refuse to go if that’s the case.”

“We’re going to a movie.  Chill, will you?”

Trinity sighed, having a feeling there was no getting out of it.  She knew what was going to happen tonight, since it was so overly predictable.  She was going to be the odd man out while Sasha and Lillian doted on their boyfriends, and their boyfriends, who knew nothing of Trinity herself, would focus more on the girlfriends, leaving her ignored and abandoned again.  And even if that wasn’t the case, Lillian and Sasha would be at each other’s throats, making the evening that much more unbearable.

Trinity wasn’t sure what plans for that night, so she just went through the motions when Lillian nearly flipped out on her for not being ready at a certain time.  Still, Trinity was ‘ready’ before Lillian was, because she didn’t have anyone she needed to impress.

They took Lillian’s car, since Trinity, being city raised, saw no point in owning one, to the movie theater close to Trinity’s old neighborhood, since Lillian had never been to the area (save for a trip to the Blanch’s for dinner), and she was excited to be there.  They picked up Gabriel Williams on the way over, and Trinity was shoved in the back, and forced to listen to their baby talk to each other the whole time.

She wasn’t sure if she felt joy or dread at seeing her best friend waiting for them, standing there with her too tall boyfriend, eager to pull her into a tight and protective hug.  It was a combination of both, really, joy at spending time with Sasha, and dread for how the evening was going to play out.

Dinner wasn’t so bad, at least on Sasha and Lillian’s part.  They were...civil to each other, for the most part, which surprised Trinity greatly.  What didn’t was the fact that most of what they discussed was something they both had in common; their relationships.  No one spoke to or about Trinity the whole time, and they were actually all rather surprised when she pointed out they had to leave now, or else they would miss the movie.  It was depressing, really.

Sasha made a point to at least try as they walked over to the theater.  “So,” she said, dragging out the word.  “How’s the family?”

“The family’s...good,” Trinity said, shrugging.  “I haven’t seen them since Christmas, but Mom hasn’t called with frantic news about anyone, so I’m assuming they are all okay.”

“Matt doing well with the married life?”

“More or less.  He and Nates keep getting into fights...about us, but that’s nothing unusual.  It’s just more focused and centralized now that they’re living on their own.  But neither of them that those seriously, since Nates knows Matt can’t change his family.”

“Tough break,” Sasha said.

It was perhaps a bit windy that night, or else there was just a random gush of wind shooting through he buildings, since Lillian suddenly gasped as the scarf she was wearing suddenly shot off her shoulders, and floated aimlessly through the air.  “Shit,” she all but shouted.

They all watched it for a moment, and it was clear it was going to take an effort to get it back.  She looked a little heartbroken, so Trinity just sighed.  “Here, I’ll get it,” she said, causing both the boys and Lillian to look at her funny.

She had done this a million times before, having decided to learn how to do this trick when she was younger and her family would take trips to the ‘country’.  Her mother always insisted on wearing a hat, probably to hide her face, and it would always insist on blowing away.  She had gotten pretty good at retrieving it in later years, but sadly, they no longer take trips out there, not since her older sister graduated from high school.

She concentrated on the loose garment, and she knew it was working when she heard Lillian’s delighted gasp.  It slowly floated back to her outstretched arms, and she snatched it out of the air.  “Wow, that was amazing, Tri.”

“So...what,” Raphael, the one who barely knew her, asked.  “She...she has an Ability?”

“Yeah,” Sasha said, hitting him slightly.  “She’s a telekinetic.”

Both boys shuttered slightly.  Trinity was used to that reaction, the reaction of those unfamiliar but accepting of the concept.  Trinity was always secretly was delighted when they shuttered, since it meant there wasn’t going to be any shouting or accusations.

She knew Gabriel was always on edge around her, being privy to the information when Lillian learned of it.  Trinity liked Gabriel well enough, although not well enough to allow him to spend vast amounts of time in their dorm.  But that had more to do with their relationship than Gabriel himself.  He was a well groomed guy, perhaps too well groomed, and Lillian always called him ‘metrosexual’.  Gabriel, though, once he had learned her secret, had decided it was only fair that she knew his as well.

Gabriel was bi, leaning on the gay side, but he was so in love with Lillian that he barely even cared about other guys, or girls.  All his focus was on Lillian, and Trinity couldn’t argue with that logic.  Sure, he probably dressed better than he did, was probably the best shopping partner, and he checked out the same guys as Lillian did.  But none of that mattered.  Trinity just didn’t want them to get...intimate while forgetting she was in the room.

Raphael, on the other hand, was a stereotypical beatnik sort of college guys, tending to hang around coffee shops and listened to acoustic version of music.  Trinity wasn’t quite sure where Sasha picked him up, but they somehow managed to compliment each other.  They debated lovingly about the matters of the world, and Trinity was glad her friend found someone worthwhile for once.

All this love in the air was making Trinity feel a little nauseous, actually, and she somehow managed to be trapped between the couples during the movie.  She tried her best to focus just on the screen, but it was difficult when the couples on either side of her were muttering to each other.  She just slouched in her seat, and willed the movie to be over quickly, deciding in the process to never be the fifth wheel with her roommate and her best friend again.  It really wasn’t worth it.

She was just glad it wasn’t a movie that she had wanted to see.