Becca Charlton wants nothing more than to finish college and decide on her plans for the future. Yet, since the start of her second semester, those goals have started to seem near impossible to achieve. Plagued by frequent, debilitating headaches, Becca has been missing classes and falling behind. Becca’s only comfort is knowing she isn’t suffering alone. Her new friend, Adam has been struggling with headaches as well, and his support has been a breath of fresh air amongst all of her stress.
It isn’t until an eerie encounter at a party, where two strangers warn her to stay away from Adam, that Becca starts to question whether it’s really wise for her to rely so heavily on her supposed friend. Not only that, those same strangers claim Becca has paranormal talents she’s never known about. She doesn’t want to believe anything these people have to say, and she especially doesn’t want to believe Adam would ever wish her ill. But, as Adam’s intentions are revealed, and the questions grow, she can’t help feeling as though the pair just might be telling the truth – about everything.
Becca Charlton wants nothing more than to finish college and decide on her plans for the future. Yet, since the start of her second semester, those goals have started to seem near impossible to achieve. Plagued by frequent, debilitating headaches, Becca has been missing classes and falling behind. Becca’s only comfort is knowing she isn’t suffering alone. Her new friend, Adam has been struggling with headaches as well, and his support has been a breath of fresh air amongst all of her stress.
It isn’t until an eerie encounter at a party, where two strangers warn her to stay away from Adam, that Becca starts to question whether it’s really wise for her to rely so heavily on her supposed friend. Not only that, those same strangers claim Becca has paranormal talents she’s never known about. She doesn’t want to believe anything these people have to say, and she especially doesn’t want to believe Adam would ever wish her ill. But, as Adam’s intentions are revealed, and the questions grow, she can’t help feeling as though the pair just might be telling the truth – about everything.
Becca Charlton raced down the hall. She hated the way her body moved in fast motion as she dodged other students going about their day, but she didn’t have much choice. She was late for class again. She didn’t like missing class, but an onset of strange migraines had marked her second semester. Visual disturbances accompanied head-cracking pain; she hadn’t felt anything like this before in her life. But she couldn’t miss another Intro to Philosophy. She wasn’t tanking the class, but for some reason, many of her headaches came before or during the class, and she’d had the propensity to leave early or not go at all. Her professor, an old-school type, had mentioned noticing her absences after the last class, and of course, he’d called her out the last time she’d tried to leave early. She felt her heart leap in her chest as she nearly barreled into a blonde woman in many layers of ratty clothing. She seemed to vanish just before Becca would have hit her.
She pushed the door open, unable to slow herself, the full weight of her body pressed against the push-bar, and it practically slammed open. The sounds of low murmurs stopped, and Becca felt blood rushing to her face. Her russet-brown skin, thankfully, hid most of her blush. She walked up the stairs, ignoring the prickling feeling of her professor and classmates’ eyes on her as she made her way to her seat. The arms of the ancient seats jabbed at her hips, reminding her uncomfortably of the cruel comments other girls in high school had made as the arms pressed into the curves no amount of dieting or exorcised seemed to touch.
Her head, which had already been throbbing, began to jab spikes into her consciousness. The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall were painfully bright. She wished she could just turn around and leave. But she couldn’t; her parents had scraped and saved; she’d worked three jobs since the moment she was eligible and spent countless hours studying her butt off to be here. The material made her head spin, and this class was one of those stupid required classes that she had to take to get into the interesting ones. The only saving grace was the friend she’d made. He hadn’t arrived yet; somehow, he made her feel better when she got like this. The stress headaches had started two months ago, just a few weeks after she’d returned for the spring semester. She didn’t know what had started them; she’d felt like she was finally getting in the swing of things here at Hudson Valley University.
But they’d come unasked for and were getting worse. Today there were flashing lights in addition to the sensitivity to the corporeal ones and a distressing sound on the edge of hearing. She felt like someone had slipped a metal ball filled with spikes into her brain, and it was bouncing around in the sensitive meat, tearing through her grey matter.
For a moment, the sound increased, an atonal whine that Becca supposed was what dogs heard when treated to the whistle, and a light seemed to flash behind her. She turned her head, tight black curls bouncing against her neck, and standing above her was Adam. He was taller than her by about four inches, but that made him about average size or a little shorter for a guy. He had straight light brown hair and an easy grin.
He was pointing that grin at her now. She summoned one of her own, though it was a challenge with the headache. But as she slid up in her seat to make room, the lights seemed to dim. Then she noticed they were tolerable. Her headache was gone, just like that. She didn’t remember any other headache disappearing that fast or that easily. Except these always seemed to hit and leave at the oddest times.
“Hey Becca, how are you?” Adam asked as he sat down. The seat folded down beneath him as he stowed his backpack.
“I’m alright, doing better every minute,” Becca said, borrowing a favorite phrase of her father’s. She’d unconsciously begun using it as the headaches got worse.
“Did you have another one?” he asked.
Becca looked at him quizzically, and he pointed to his forehead, grimacing in fake pain. She understood and nodded.
“But it’s gone now, went away when you got here,” Becca said.
“Maybe I’m your good luck charm,” Adam said, flashing that grin again.
“I’ll bet you like to think so,” Becca said, grinning. It was nice to talk to a guy who wasn’t her roommate’s boyfriend or one who was subtly trying to get in her pants. She wasn’t the most social person in the world, and it had surprised her how easy it’d been to strike up a friendship with Adam. He’d never been mean to her and always seemed interested in her opinion, even though he’d already taken the class and knew most of the material. He’d patiently helped her through some of the worst reading and essays, all without expecting anything in return.
“I suppose I do,” Adam said. His expression became serious. “Have you gone to the health center to check these headaches out? You might want to consider it.”
“A few doses of aspirin usually punch its lights out,” Becca said. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but I’m fine.”
“You shouldn’t take your health for granted, especially when it comes to head stuff,” Adam said.
“It’s just stress headaches; I used to get them when I was a teenager,” Becca said. “They’ll go away.”
“Becca, unless you’ve hit your twentieth birthday without my knowing, and shame on you if you have, but you’re still a teenager,” Adam said.
“I’m nineteen,” Becca said, lightly slapping Adam’s arm through his hoodie. “I’m not exactly asking my mom if I can ride the bus or texting them when I’m coming home. I’m an adult.”
Adam nodded, lips pursed and eyes wide as if he were holding in laughter.
“Whatever, I’m much more mature than you Mr. ‘I failed philosophy and didn’t think to retake it ‘till my senior year,’” Becca said.
“Like nobody procrastinates,” Adam said. “This class is so dry and boring; at least this time, I’ve got a friend with me.”
“That’s probably why I’m not going to need to retake it,” Becca said. “Any idea what this class is about?”
She’d noticed the professor, an older man who was the college professor stereotype of a ‘t.’ He read the power-point presentation word for word and gave them so much reading it was like he wasn’t aware they had more than one class and had little interest in actually teaching them anything so he could get back to writing his own papers and theories. He also liked a silent class, making them wait until a fifteen-minute period at the end of class for questions, which usually meant he answered one or two given his long-winded explanations that made little sense.
“I think it’s moral relativism,” Adam said. “The only lecture I really remember is the one where he talked about patriotism and what it meant.”
“I don’t remember one like that,” Becca said.
“Haven’t gotten there yet, I don’t think,” he said. “So, how long have these headaches been happening?”
“A little after I met you? Hey, maybe you’re the cause,” Becca said.
“I don’t think I’ve been that much of a pain,” Adam said, looking wounded and putting a hand over his heart. “But seriously, are you getting like, weird noises and flashing lights?”
“Yeah, why? Do you know what it is?” Becca asked.
“Just a theory,” Adam said. “None of these noises…sound like anything, do they?”
“What, like a nail on a chalkboard? I mean, it’s not quite that, but it’s kind of like that,” Becca said. “Why?”
“I’m just making sure it’s not something serious,” Adam said.
“Alright class, the midterm was a little disappointing. Most of you didn’t fail, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the essays you turned in either,” Professor Murry said.
The class, chatting with their neighbors or looking at their phones, snapped to attention. Becca opened the notes program on her second hand laptop. The ancient thing could barely hold a charge, but it had wifi and turned on, which was all she really needed. Her notes were in Google docs, a sprawling document of almost twenty pages on their own. Adam went old school; he had a notebook and a pen. She noticed him doodling more than writing, but his coaching of the material was still better than she’d managed on her own.
“He’s gearing up to assign another paper; want to work on it together?” Adam whispered.
“Sure,” Becca whispered back. The professor drew a Venn diagram on the board and put adjectives in each bubble. “I have some time on Thursday; want to meet in the library?”
“Sounds good,” Adam said. They sat back and tuned into the lecture.
* * *
The class streamed out the doors into the older brick building. The Burgess Building wasn’t in some far-off corner of campus, but it was one of the few buildings that hadn’t been updated within the last ten years. People were eager to get out of its narrow labyrinthine halls and escape into the sunlight.
Adam was just ahead of Becca, acting as a wave-break in the crowd. Becca was right on his heels, struggling a little to keep up in the crush of bodies. This building always made her stomach sink a little because it was a constant reminder she couldn’t slip through crowds as easily as others. Adam didn’t seem to mind, though, always helping her find a path through the madness.
They emerged onto the quad, the library ahead of them and academic buildings stretching to either side. The quad was paved with a fountain in the middle and squares of grass with the occasional tree peeking through the paving stones. It was like the designers had wanted to make a perfectly level space but had also wanted an inviting nature scene and had tried both. It didn’t quite work, but you could find people taking advantage of the shade or grass every now and then, especially now that spring had truly sprung.
Becca took a deep breath, feeling the faint claustrophobia and insecurity diminish. Neither was ever truly gone, but she could ignore it out here in the warming sun. The headache was gone; nothing could truly bring the joy of painlessness as having beaten a headache. Adam was looking at her as she savored her freedom, fleeting as it was.
“So what time on Thursday?” he asked, jolting her out of her reverie.
“Is one o’clock alright for you?” she asked.
“Sounds great. I was hoping to grab some lunch; you have another class right,” he said.
“Yeah, go on,” Becca said.
“Where’s your next class? We could walk together if you want,” he said.
“It’s pretty close; you don’t have to go to the trouble,” Becca said.
“Well, I’ve got such a busy schedule, but I think I could squeeze you in,” Adam said. Becca rolled her eyes but let him walk alongside her.
“Any plans for after you graduate?” Becca asked hesitantly. She had no idea what she wanted to do, which was a problem.
Her parents were encouraging her to take the nursing track since it was stable and well-paying. Compared to their jobs, at least. Her father was a manager at a grocery store, and her mother babysat, taught piano, and did half a dozen other small jobs. She’d never been hungry growing up, but she’d learned how to stay ahead of bills and setbacks at an early age.
“Working for my father,” Adam said. He said it neutrally as if it were a foregone conclusion. Becca envied him that.
“What does he do?” she asked.
“He’s a contractor for the government, I actually don’t know everything that he does, but I’ve been helping him out with stuff for years,” Adam said. “That’s what the double degree in business and programming was for.”
“Sounds nice,” Becca said. “I’ve got no idea what I want to do.”
“All these prerec classes make your head spin,” Adam said after considering for a moment. “Most seem kinda useless until you find that one class you love. That usually builds from there into a major you’re proud to be in. You’re still getting your legs under you, don’t feel like you have to map out your whole future.”
Before Becca could say anything, she heard a familiar voice cutting through the ambient conversation around them. She looked around and saw Elaine Rivera, blonde hair bouncing in her wake. She had a nice kind of curls and long ringlets that framed her heart-shaped face. Becca was a little jealous of Elaine, but the girl was so nice she was able to bury it deep.
“Becca! Ready for Algebra six sixty-six!” Elaine called. They were roommates and took several of the same classes. It’d helped cement their friendship that first semester, especially with Elaine being so much more outgoing.
“I thought you were taking all beginner classes,” Adam remarked.
“We call it that because it’s hell,” Becca said. She smiled at Elaine, and they hugged briefly. Adam grinned at Elaine whose returning smile was a little frosty. Adam’s own smile was more stiff than the one he gave Becca.
“Oh look, it’s the medium drink of water,” Elaine said.
“How are you Elaine?” Adam asked.
“Good. Becca, are you ready to go? I bet Mr. Senior here has better things to do than hang around with freshman girls,” Elaine said.
“I’ll see you Thursday then, Becca,” Adam said. “Nice to see you.” He walked away, weaving through the crowd, and was soon gone.
“You don’t have to be so mean to him,” Becca said.
“As your roommate and best friend, I have an obligation to look out for you,” Elaine said, pulling Becca along.
They had fifteen more minutes until Algebra started, but the professor closed the doors five minutes before class began and called anyone that arrived at that time tardy. After she’d nearly flunked the class due to arriving ‘just on time’ Elaine had become more of a stickler about getting there in a timely fashion.
“There’s nothing to look out for; he’s a nice guy,” Becca said.
“Mmmhmm. I’m just making sure he stays a nice guy,” Elaine said. “What was that about Thursday? I thought you only had Philosophy on Tuesdays.”
“We’re working on our essays together,” Becca said.
“Just a study session, or is it a study date?” Elaine asked.
“Not a date,” Becca said. “I don’t think he’s interested in me like that.”
“Honey, that’s patently not true,” Elaine said. “Why else would he hang around like that? Boys his age have one thing on their minds, which can be nice, but not always. You’ve made your point about dating; I just want to make sure you find that fella that feels the same way.”
“I appreciate you are looking out for me, but it’s really not necessary,” Becca said. “Adam’s a perfectly nice, normal guy, and we get along. That’s it.”
* * *
As the two young women continued down the path, they didn’t notice two figures standing in the shade of the newly green trees. They passed the two without a second look. One was tall, much taller than Elaine or Adam, with wavy black hair that went to his shoulders. The other was pale, both of face and hair. They watched Becca pass by, and their eyes had lingered on her and Adam when they’d exited the academic building. A moment later, they were gone, no trace of them in the courtyard.
* * *
Becca and Elaine were among the crowd disembarking from Algebra. Becca could almost believe her headache had returned, though she knew it was just a post-math hangover. Numbers and equations danced behind her eyes, and she forced them to retreat. Math wasn’t her worst subject, but the further she progressed, the more she knew it wasn’t where her passion lay. Elaine was almost cross-eyed and had spent a portion of the class texting with their other friend and roommate, Liza.
“Want to get some lunch?” Elaine asked, “Liza and Mike are at the Northside dining hall.”
“Sounds good,” Becca said. Her eyes idly roamed the courtyard and happened upon a brown pair of eyes staring at her. She did a double take, but the person she’d seen was gone. She shook it off; she must’ve been mistaken.
They walked to the North dining hall and went through the line, trying to find something that actually looked appetizing. Becca settled on a grey piece of chicken and some salad while Elaine got a fruit parfait. They soon found Liza and Mike, sitting at one of the round raised tables that were almost like something you’d find in a bar.
“Hey, how was math?” Liza asked. She grinned at them flashing perfect white teeth. Her ebony hair was streaked with deep purple, and red draped over one side of her caramel face. Mike’s hair was similarly streaked, though nowhere near as long. He wore a shirt with a twenty-sided die on it, clutched in a dragon’s talon.
“Tortuuuure,” Elaine said, drawing out the word as she slumped into the tall seat. She almost slid off and had to steady herself, taking away from the image of an exhausted coed.
“It wasn’t terrible, but I do think they’re starting to speak another language,” Becca said. “I know you’re on the advanced track, but could you help us with the worksheet?”
“Sure, but it’d be easier if someone did the reading,” Liza said, pointedly flicking her eyes at Elaine.
“It’s boring, and when am I going to use math as an influencer?” Elaine asked.
“Taking some business classes and understanding what they’re talking about will probably help grow your platform a lot better than your hot takes on Billie Eilish,” Liza said.
“I have people following me already,” Elaine said, “and I do a lot more than celeb gossip. I also do fashion.”
“It’s good to diversify,” Mike said, a musing tone in his voice. Mike and Liza were an odd couple to Becca; he liked fantasy and nerd stuff, and she was into numbers but not into pop culture. They had some overlap in physics and math, but other than that, they didn’t seem to have much in common. He was funny, though, when his jokes weren’t super obscure.
“Did you guys hear about the party Delta Tau is throwing this Friday?” Elaine asked, shifting the subject to something more pleasurable for her.
“Yeah, sounds kinda fun,” Liza hedged. She was generally more amenable to parties than Becca, but not to the same extent as Elaine, who Becca thought would be happy if she could live in a perpetual rager.
“It’s going to be the last big party of the semester; they’re going all out,” Elaine said excitedly. “Kegs, hard stuff, MJ, dancing, it’s going to be the place to be!”
“Could be a good study on the mating habits of primates,” Mike said, looking at Liza and winking.
“I’d be down to do some legwork on that subject,” Liza said.
“Get a room, you two, preferably Mike’s,” Becca said.
Liza and Mike rolled their eyes almost in unison. Then they grinned at each other and leaned forward to kiss. Elaine and Becca made gagging noises as the two pulled apart.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to go to a rager,” Becca said.
“Honey, come on! We let you out of the Spring Semester Smashout and the midterm marathon; you’ve barely gone to a party since the first semester,” Elaine said. “I need my wing woman to have my back!”
“I’ve never really gotten into that,” Becca said. “The first one was kinda fun, but the other one really sucked; I’m happy just sitting in my room.”
“It’s the last party of the year or the last good one, at least,” Liza said. “You don’t have to stay long; you can come back with Mike and me when we get sick of it.”
“I don’t want to cramp your style,” Becca said.
“No style to cramp; we’ll drop you off at our room and go to Mike’s or whatever,” Liza said.
“I’m not exactly welcome at these events either,” Mike said, brown almond eyes seeming to pierce Becca’s. “But it’s nice every once and a while to change pace. Would I rather back up my friends on a raid? Maybe, but I do that most Fridays. College is more than just studying, and even if it’s once in a blue moon, you should get out of your comfort zone.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Elaine said. “To push you to do things you wouldn’t normally do.”
“Alright, fine. I’ll go to this party. But if some drunk frat guy hits on me, I’m out of there,” Becca said.
“Don’t worry, we’ll all be there for you,” Elaine said. “And maybe you’ll even have some fun! These things aren’t just drunken orgies, you know; there are people there who just want to socialize, meet new people.”
“Maybe I should invite Adam,” Becca said.
“Oh, please don’t,” Elaine said.
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Becca asked.
Elaine looked to Liza and Mike, a silent debate that Becca couldn’t follow. She frowned; what did her friends have against Adam?
“We’d rather not go out with him,” Liza said eventually, looking away from Elaine, who focused on her fruit parfait.
“Would you guys just tell me what your problem with him is? Did he say something?” Becca asked.
“It’s not so much what he’s said or done but how he acts,” Mike said. “We’ve noticed he’s mostly interested in you.”
“We were the ones who met; first, it’s natural he’d be awkward around you guys at first,” Becca said.
“He never wants to hang out with us,” Elaine said. “He hangs out with you, and we’re around as…collateral or something. I don’t know the right word.”
“She means that when all of us are together, it seems like we’re incidental,” Mike said. “He never really engages with us, just you.”
“He’s shy,” Becca said. “With groups, I mean. He’s talked to me about how awkward he can be with lots of new people at once, and he was slow to open up when we met.”
“But you think he’s opened up to you,” Elaine said, the question coming out as a statement.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Becca asked.
“Have you met any of his other friends?” Liza asked. “Seen anyone else he interacts with?”
“No, but that’s because I mostly see him in class,” Becca said. “Besides the times we’ve hung out as a group and a few study sessions together, we haven’t interacted much.”
“There you go,” Elaine said. “I can’t put my finger on why, but that really sets off my bullshit radar. Shouldn’t you at least have seen another of his friends? Has he even mentioned anyone else he hangs out with?”
“He’s not entirely that kind of friend,” Becca said. “We talk about class, sometimes life stuff.”
“We’re worried about his intentions with you,” Liza said, reaching across the short table and putting her arm on Becca’s. “You’re nice, you're pretty, and you’re young. He’s a senior who’s taking a freshman class that he helps you through even though he failed the first time. He isn’t interested in anyone but you. It is a little suspicious.”
“He’s never made me feel unsafe,” Becca said. “He’s chill; we talk about philosophy, our lives sometimes. He hasn’t asked me out once!”
“That’s why we haven’t said anything,” Liza said. “But we’re only telling you our impression. You’re right, we don’t know him as much as you do, but we didn’t want not to say anything.”
“I appreciate that,” Becca said. She was relieved when her phone chirruped. “I’ve gotta go; I promised my dad I’d facetime him today; it’s getting close to that time.”
“We’re sorry if we made you uncomfortable,” Mike said.
“No, you guys were just looking out for me; I understand, even if I think you’re entirely wrong,” Becca said.
She stood up, putting her bag over her shoulder, and ignored the light twinge in her back from the weight. She picked up her tray and wound around the crowded tables to the disposal window, setting the remains of her lunch down and then exiting the dining hall. As she walked, she passed a willowy blonde wearing what looked like several layers of clothes. She didn’t register her, and the blonde was soon obscured by other people.
Becca made her way across campus; her way sped by taking a shuttle part of the way back to the dorm. Medford Commons was in a secluded area of campus, a cluster of four buildings that looked like four rectangles piercing the sky. It seemed the architect had been more focused on getting as much space as possible out of the buildings rather than making them aesthetically pleasing.
That wasn’t a concern for Becca, she swiped her card, and the lock disengaged and allowed her inside. She took the elevator up to the fifth floor, breathing a little heavier than normal. It was a long walk, and she kept promising herself she’d start an exercise routine to make it easier. But she’d tried before, and it always petered out quickly.
Her phone buzzed, and she took it out; her father’s picture, along with a green phone icon and a red ‘X’, filled the screen. She pressed the phone, and the picture animated, turning into the well-worn face she’d known since childhood.
“Hey pumpkin, how’re classes going?” Dad asked.
“Good Daddy, how’s work?” Becca asked.
“Fine, not much to report,” Dad said. The background shifted in and out of focus as he walked through the house. Her father was usually free around lunchtime if there wasn’t enough work to keep him occupied. It was hit or miss, but they liked to chat when they both had the chance. “I finished the quarterly evaluations I was telling you about last time, and it’s on to a payroll snafu. Things are going along normally here.”
“That’s good,” Becca said. The stories weren’t particularly exciting, but hearing his easy baritone always helped put her in a good mood. “My friends are trying to talk me into going to a party on Friday.”
“Don’t you have enough studying to do?” Dad asked. There was a playfulness in his tone, but they both knew it was a serious question.
“I do. But I’m getting some help from that guy I told you about in philosophy, so I’ve got a little more time on my hands,” Becca said.
“Ah yeah, what was his name, Adam? I remember. Are things looking good between you? Maybe I need to have a talk with him,” Dad said.
“Daddy! Stop; you’re not going to do ‘the talk’ from seventy miles away,” Becca said.
“You sound like your mother,” Dad said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Getting as beautiful as she was too.”
Becca blushed. The love of her parents was the biggest constant in her life, and she was focused on finding the one man who’d make her feel the same way. She’d barely dated due to this, not being able to find someone that was looking for something as real as she was.
“Anyway, we’re getting our philosophy stuff done on Thursday, and I’m going to be finished with everything else, so long as Elaine will sit down and actually work with me.”
“That girl, I don’t know if I like you are hanging around someone that carries on like she does,” Dad said.
“She helps me Daddy. I love you and Mom, you raised me right, but she’s helping me in other ways,” Becca said.
“I suppose she is,” Her dad said, sighing a little. “Have you decided on a major yet? You have to start thinking about it if you want to get into the nursing programs; take the right classes now, so you aren’t behind.”
“I’m looking at the course catalog, and I’m going to my advisor in a few weeks; I’ll see what I can do,” Becca hedged. She didn’t know if she wanted to be a nurse or not; the goal had always been to get to college, and she’d never really thought of where she’d go after. Her father had managed to work his way up the chain at Cornucopia Foods; he didn’t want his daughter to have to start from the bottom like he had.
She understood that, but she also didn’t know what she wanted out of life. That was beginning to make these weekly talks harder for her. It’d been a relief during the first months of school, being able to touch base with home and everything familiar. But the longer she spent here, the more connected she felt. But also more adrift. It seemed like everyone had their whole future planned out for them, and she was wandering around without a map.
“It was good to talk to you pumpkin, but I gotta get back to the grind,” Dad said. He shifted the phone, and Becca glimpsed the familiar break room at the back of the store and a crust of bread next to an apple core.
“Good to talk to you too, Daddy,” Becca said.
“Have fun at that party, alright? But not too much fun; I’m much too old to be driving up to beat some sense into a nineteen-year-old boy!”
“I’ll be careful,” Becca said. She blew a kiss at the camera. “Love you!”
“Love you too, text you later,” Dad said, and the phone was suddenly displaying the time and her wallpaper. Becca sighed and shut the phone off, flopping back on her bed. She had work to do and a thousand misgivings swirling in her head.
When I look around my community, I see people of various colors, shapes, sizes, and ages. When I look around my library, I see a lot of white, young, athletic men, especially in genre novels. It is getting better every year as writers bring in diverse protagonists, but there is still a long way to go.
Becca Charlton is African American. She is, to put it kindly, large. She is not tall, she is not athletic, she is not willowy, she is a perfectly normal person with a perfectly normal body--which makes her quite unusual among protagonists.
When she discovers that she has psionic abilities, she has a choice. Go with the government agent who lied to gain her trust (bad strategy but far too common) or flee with the rebels who gave her a choice. It would have been a much shorter and less interesting story had she gone with the agent.
Yes, this is a fantasy about humans with psionic abilities: precognition, telepathy, telekinesis, etc. It is well done, the abilities are fantastic, and the conflict is obvious. Except, it isn't obvious. Not all of the bad guys are bad, not all of the good guys have always been good, everyone has baggage.
And the choices made in crafting Becca Charlton's character amplify the conflict. Prejudice, stereotypes, and body-shaming are things she faced over and over again from childhood. Now that there is a governmental agency trying to capture or kill others with her kinds of powers, she is part of another minority community trying to find a measure of freedom in the midst of fear and loathing directed at them. By the end, I was cheering for Becca not because of what she could do, but because of what she could and had endured. Survival is a hard skill to master and you really only get one chance at it. Surviving with grace and spirit and generosity is even harder.