Read Online Glimpse (The Tesla Effect Book 1) by Julie Drew - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Drew
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at her hands in her lap.
“What happened?” he asked.
Tesla shrugged. “And then I was just at the bottom. There was a heavy, windowless metal door, wide open like I was supposed to go in, one of those key pad security system panels on the wall right next to it, and no one in sight.”
They both heard the breathlessness in her voice, and Finn waited, expectantly.
“I paused for a sec, and then I walked right through the door.”
“Nice,” he said, approval and admiration clear in his voice. “What was on the other side of the door?”
“That’s when it all gets a little fuzzy. I stood for a minute and looked back up the stairs, confused. I couldn’t really remember why I had come down there. I was just inside the open door and at the beginning of a hallway that couldn’t have been there, because my hospital room was the last one on my floor in the corner of the building, and the stairwell was right next to my room.”
“How could you be sure? Remember, you had a concussion,” Finn pressed her for details, pushed her to remember, to think it through.
“I know. But I’ve been over it and over it, and concussion or not, I know where I was. I have a, um, highly developed sense of direction and spatial relationships,” she added self-consciously.
“Spatial relationships?” he repeated, amused by her again. “Who says that? I’m not even sure I know what it means.”
“You do, too,” she said impatiently. “And it’s not that hard to figure out if you don’t.”
“Explain it to me, this gift of yours,” he said.
“I never said it was a gift,” she said quickly.
“Still. Give me an example.”
“Well, like with basketball,” she said reluctantly, thankful that the gloom concealed her. “I’m no athlete—not like Keisha—but I—”
“But you what?” he encouraged when she hesitated.
“I just seem to know, instinctively I guess, where I am in relation to whatever is around me.” There , she thought. I said it .
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“I never miss a shot,” she said softly.
“Ever?”
“Ever.” She looked at her hands in her lap. She downplayed this stuff with Keisha and Max, scoffed and denied when they couldn’t help but comment on what they saw her do, consistently, over time. She was not a freak. And she had never—not even once—tried to tell anyone about this stuff. She had refused to try out for the team, despite Keisha’s harangues their freshman year. She wasn’t sure why she had decided to spill it to Finn, whom she didn’t even know, but somehow it had just become part of the story that she was, for good or ill, telling him now.
“I can miss, of course,” she said quickly. “But not if I really try. And I don’t mean easy stuff—I’m talking hard shots. Impossible angles. Of course, if I’m too far away, if I don’t have the upper body strength to actually get the ball to the hoop, I can’t do it. Like I said, I’m not really an athlete. But my aim—my perspective and my depth perception and my calculations of distance, speed, arc—well, they’re good, and they’re sort of, um, instantaneous. I don’t have to think about it, I just know .”
Finn sat back and considered her for a moment. “Well, that’s pretty cool,” he said. “We’ll have to play sometime.”
Tesla smiled, a bit tentatively, but it was clear that she appreciated that he hadn’t made a big deal out of it. “So where was I?”
“I think you were under the hospital. The corridor continued on even though you knew you were at the end of the building.”
“Right. So after twenty feet or so the hallway should have ended and turned 90 degrees, because it had hit the exterior wall—you know, the end of the hospital building itself—just like every other floor on the South side.” She paused and frowned. “So, clearly my story has no credibility, because it’s impossible that that hallway continued.”
“How do you know?” Finn asked.
“Because
“What happened?” he asked.
Tesla shrugged. “And then I was just at the bottom. There was a heavy, windowless metal door, wide open like I was supposed to go in, one of those key pad security system panels on the wall right next to it, and no one in sight.”
They both heard the breathlessness in her voice, and Finn waited, expectantly.
“I paused for a sec, and then I walked right through the door.”
“Nice,” he said, approval and admiration clear in his voice. “What was on the other side of the door?”
“That’s when it all gets a little fuzzy. I stood for a minute and looked back up the stairs, confused. I couldn’t really remember why I had come down there. I was just inside the open door and at the beginning of a hallway that couldn’t have been there, because my hospital room was the last one on my floor in the corner of the building, and the stairwell was right next to my room.”
“How could you be sure? Remember, you had a concussion,” Finn pressed her for details, pushed her to remember, to think it through.
“I know. But I’ve been over it and over it, and concussion or not, I know where I was. I have a, um, highly developed sense of direction and spatial relationships,” she added self-consciously.
“Spatial relationships?” he repeated, amused by her again. “Who says that? I’m not even sure I know what it means.”
“You do, too,” she said impatiently. “And it’s not that hard to figure out if you don’t.”
“Explain it to me, this gift of yours,” he said.
“I never said it was a gift,” she said quickly.
“Still. Give me an example.”
“Well, like with basketball,” she said reluctantly, thankful that the gloom concealed her. “I’m no athlete—not like Keisha—but I—”
“But you what?” he encouraged when she hesitated.
“I just seem to know, instinctively I guess, where I am in relation to whatever is around me.” There , she thought. I said it .
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“I never miss a shot,” she said softly.
“Ever?”
“Ever.” She looked at her hands in her lap. She downplayed this stuff with Keisha and Max, scoffed and denied when they couldn’t help but comment on what they saw her do, consistently, over time. She was not a freak. And she had never—not even once—tried to tell anyone about this stuff. She had refused to try out for the team, despite Keisha’s harangues their freshman year. She wasn’t sure why she had decided to spill it to Finn, whom she didn’t even know, but somehow it had just become part of the story that she was, for good or ill, telling him now.
“I can miss, of course,” she said quickly. “But not if I really try. And I don’t mean easy stuff—I’m talking hard shots. Impossible angles. Of course, if I’m too far away, if I don’t have the upper body strength to actually get the ball to the hoop, I can’t do it. Like I said, I’m not really an athlete. But my aim—my perspective and my depth perception and my calculations of distance, speed, arc—well, they’re good, and they’re sort of, um, instantaneous. I don’t have to think about it, I just know .”
Finn sat back and considered her for a moment. “Well, that’s pretty cool,” he said. “We’ll have to play sometime.”
Tesla smiled, a bit tentatively, but it was clear that she appreciated that he hadn’t made a big deal out of it. “So where was I?”
“I think you were under the hospital. The corridor continued on even though you knew you were at the end of the building.”
“Right. So after twenty feet or so the hallway should have ended and turned 90 degrees, because it had hit the exterior wall—you know, the end of the hospital building itself—just like every other floor on the South side.” She paused and frowned. “So, clearly my story has no credibility, because it’s impossible that that hallway continued.”
“How do you know?” Finn asked.
“Because
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