Free Gifted Touch by Melinda Metz

Thanks for giving me a great excuse to get away , Rae added silently as she hurried down the hall. She pushed open the bathroom door—
    /TOTAL MORON/
    —and almost bumped into Anthony. “Guys’ is flooded,” he mumbled as he ducked past her.
    Whatever, Rae thought. She headed over to the closest mirror and peered in. What was that Cynda girl talking about? Rae’s mascara wasn’t smudged at all. She leaned on the rust-stained sink—
    /never know what hit her/
    —to get a closer look. And suddenly a blast shook the floor beneath her feet. Something hard struck the 84
    back of Rae’s head. She fell to her knees, white dots exploding in front of her eyes.
    Dimly she could hear shouts from the hall. But the voices sounded much too far away. And something warm was dripping down her neck. Blood , she realized slowly. From her head. She had to get up. Had to get help.
    She grabbed the sink with both hands—
    /they’ll think Anthony did it/definitely kill Rae/get out of here/
    —and pulled herself to her feet. Her legs felt soft as marshmallows. She gripped the sink harder so she wouldn’t fall again.
    /how does this thing/should have brought/definitely kill Rae/
    That thought again. Why did she get that thought again? Definitely kill Rae. Had someone just tried to kill her?
    Anthony jumped out of his metal chair so fast that it crashed to the floor. That explosion—it sounded like it came from the direction of the girls’ bathroom.
    Where Rae was! His body reacted instantly, and he was out the door and down the hall in seconds, then pushing through the bathroom door.
    A dozen different pieces of data hit him as soon as he was inside. Stall door blown off. Smell of smoke.
    85
    Smell of blood. Pieces of broken tile. Rae swaying on her feet in front of the cracked mirror.
    Anthony reached her just as her knees buckled and caught her before she hit the floor. He scooped her up, one arm around her shoulders, one under her knees, and carried her out of the bathroom, using his back to open the door. Her face had lost all its color, and her eyes were only slitted open. “I’m taking her to the nurse,” he announced as he strode past Ms.
    Abramson and most of the group.
    “Everybody back to the room. And no one goes into that bathroom,” Abramson called. A second later she caught up to Anthony. “Rae, can you hear me?” she asked loudly.
    Anthony stared down at Rae’s face. His stomach turned over as her eyelids fluttered open and she looked directly up at him. “I don’t need to be carried,” she said. “I’m fine.”
    “Yeah, right,” Anthony answered, not even considering putting her down. What was it with this girl and being helped?
    “I’ll get the door.” Abramson rushed on ahead and jerked open the door to the nurse’s office. “Sheila, we need you,” she cried, her voice shrill.
    When he reached the door, Anthony turned side-ways and carefully maneuvered himself and Rae through. The last thing she needed was another bump 86
    on the head. He could feel her blood soaking into his T-shirt.
    “Put her over there,” the nurse ordered, waving toward the closest of three empty cots along the back wall.
    “I can walk,” Rae protested again, giving a little squirm.
    “You can fall on your butt,” Anthony answered.
    He strode over to the narrow cot and carefully laid Rae down on the thin blue blanket. “Don’t even think about trying to sit up,” he warned her. He backed up to let the nurse move in next to the cot, but he didn’t take his eyes off Rae, his gaze locked on the tiny scratch that ran along one side of her face from the top of her cheek to the corner of her mouth.
    “Anthony, we’ve got it covered now,” Abramson told him. “You can go back to the meeting room.” He nodded, but he didn’t move. He kept thinking there was something he should be doing. Water. He bet Rae would like a drink of water. Anthony scanned the room and spotted a water cooler, then he hurried over to it. He