Chapter 3: A Noticeable Difference

“What were you two doing earlier?” Carol Anne asked as they all sat down for lunch. Carol made potato soup and Whitney was shoveling it in as if it were her last meal. Her silver eyes stared at nothing as her spoon made repetitive round trips from the bowl to her mouth.

“Just messing around,” Tommy said, but he couldn’t help notice that his aunt hadn’t just asked him the question. She was standing in front of the sink, washing a few dishes as the two of them ate, and she asked the question nonchalant. With his Aunt Carol, nothing was ever nonchalant. Nothing was ever ‘no big deal’.

“Messing around how?” Carol Anne inquired. “Whitney looked like she was going to have a heat stroke! She was lying out there sweating and panting like crazy!”

“Well,” Tommy said, stalling her. He couldn’t be honest with her. The overprotective mother in her wouldn’t just accept that. “Whitney’s out of shape, mom, and we were jogging together. She needs more exercise.”

“You mean you were jogging in your head then? I hardly think that’s any way to get her in shape, Tommy! If she wants to exercise then I’ll talk to Blake when he gets home. We’ll get her a treadmill so she can work out for real and so I can watch her properly.”

“This is better. Trust me. Look at the way she’s eating,” Tommy said pointing at Whitney. “She won’t want a treadmill and working out ‘in my head’ is just as effective as doing it for real.”

Whitney slid her bowl forward. “More please,” she said staring blankly in front of her. “Bread and butter too!” she added with a smile. “It’s really good, Aunt Carol.”

Carol Anne got up from the table with a smile on her face. She grabbed Whitney’s bowl, refilled it and brought it back to Whitney. She buttered a slice of bread and brought that to her. “Well, this is different,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her compliment my cooking. How come she’s not with you right now?” she asked.

Whitney wasn’t piggybacking with him because she was reveling in her victory. She was celebrating her win over him, which she didn’t have to do. He was celebrating it too, but she was trying to be polite and not rub it in. At that point, Tommy wished she were there with him. That way he wouldn’t have to take the heat alone.

He couldn’t tell his aunt any of that, so he shrugged. “I think she’s happy, mom. I think she liked working out.”

Whitney continued to slaughter her meal. She was like a dog tearing into his owner’s steak when he wasn’t looking. She dunked her buttered bread into her soup and tore into it. Both Carol and Tommy stood by watching with dumb looks.

“Well just be careful, Tommy. She’s delicate, you know,” Carol Anne said.

We are being careful, mom, Tommy thought to himself as he scooped his own bite. We’re using fake swords and everything!

Whitney finished her second bowl and got up from the table. She walked over to the sink, turned on the cold water, and began splashing her face. Carol Anne got back up, grabbed Whitney’s bowl and spoon, waiting for Whitney to finish, so she could rinse them.

Whitney rejoined with Tommy as soon as she cooled off in the sink. Let’s finish our battle, Tommy! She asked him. We still didn’t do your round yet. I got up to twenty-three, but I’m curious to see how far you can get.

Well actually, sis, your score was a lot higher than that, he thought back to her. If you want to figure your actual score then you count every block you made until I scored my point.

So seventy-three then! She announced proudly. I already recounted them in my head!

That sounds about right, Tommy thought to her with a laugh. We have to be careful. Mom got a little worried about you. I guess you were breathing heavy on the lawn chair.

Careful! She responded. There’s no careful in sword fighting!

Tommy scooped the last of his soup and stood up from the table. Whitney was eager to continue their experiment, but she wasn’t the only one. He was too. “We’re going back out,” Tommy announced.

“Not before you rinse your bowl, you’re not,” Carol Anne said.

Tommy grabbed his bowl and rinsed it. Whitney went to Carol Anne and gave her a hug. “Thanks for letting us have some fun, Aunt Carol,” Whitney said as she wrapped her arms around her aunt.

Carol Anne hugged her back, but she didn’t take her eyes off Tommy. “It’s no problem, Whitney. I think it’s a good idea for you to get some exercise even if it is just jogging in your brother’s head.” She emphasized ‘jogging in your brother’s head’ as if it were a command.

Whitney turned her head toward Tommy and smiled, which was a rare sight. Whitney never liked looking at herself through his eyes and, for the past couple of years, rarely smiled. The caged rat was out of the maze, running freely for the first time since he could remember, and the caged rat was enjoying its moment of freedom. Whitney was doing something with herself.

“Yeah,” Whitney said giving Tommy a mental wink as she said it. “I think I like jogging. I even beat Tommy in a race,” she added as she pulled away from Carol Anne, who was reluctant to let her niece go.

“Be prepared to suffer my wrath,” Whitney said to Tommy when they were back in the arena. The crowd jumped to their feet and roared their approval at her comment. Whitney drew both of her swords and planted her feet firmly in front of Tommy, who drew his two swords and watched as Whitney put on a little show for their audience. She began to swing her swords like a deadly ballerina, ready to kill her dance partner.

“Now who’s the dork?” he asked her.

Whitney smiled at him eagerly, lowered her brow and said, “I’m only a dork if you beat me, so give it your best shot.” She cut the air one last time, letting the tips of her practice swords point toward the ground when she finished.

This was a different version of Whitney, but a part of him liked it. His dreams were horrifying, but his dreams were trying to tell him something important. They weren’t just telling him that there was danger lying in wait for their future. He saw the giant creatures in his dreams, hammer-like heads, bulging eyes, and massive muscles with grey skin, bashing the sides of vehicles, causing brutal damage. The message was there in a very obvious way, but there was more to it. His dreams were also telling him that Whitney wasn’t who she was supposed to be. Whitney wasn’t supposed to be a naïve young girl who allowed her aunt to clean her dishes, or who sat in a lawn chair because she didn’t want to leave the easy comfort of it. She wasn’t supposed to be simple, and she wasn’t supposed to be afraid. She was supposed to be fierce, and the one who struck fear.

Whitney’s feline way of toying with him seemed to be over. She struck out without warning, swinging both of her swords simultaneously, and then spinning backwards to deliver an elbow. Tommy reacted quickly enough to deflect both sword strikes, but he didn’t see the elbow coming.