I didn't really know about him.
We never ran in the same circles.
I didn't care about things like that.
But that was before it happened.
It was Wednesday. A rainy Wednesday. I always worked under my oak tree on my worn marble bench on Wednesdays. Always people watching and studying my own research as well as those of other professors and researchers.
Always.
I never minded the cold or the rain or even hail, so I sat with my strange wide umbrella, the numbers of pi creating the shield from the relentless downpour as I watched people scatter from the numerous droplets. My piles of notebooks and journals sitting safely under a tarp while my pencil flew across the paper, taking notes of the scurrying people.
I had been studying theoretical psychiatrics for three years when I had finally gotten a break through on my thesis paper on emotional expressions and the creation of false emotions.
I was taking notes on why we were psychologically programmed to get out of the rain when we were adults, but as children we danced and relished the beautiful droplets of water as they splashed against our skin. I was starting on a new notebook; long after people had realized the rain was not letting up anytime soon, when I saw him.
I looked up from my notebook by pure chance; my hair probably soaked (I never tried to cover myself, only my books) and caught his dark eyes with my light.
He had black hair, it was long and against his face like a tangle of vines. A strong jaw line and sharp features. His dark eyes were staring straight at me, catching my bright green ones in their deep dark depths. I knew my hair was also tangled around my face, golden wavy hair straightened by the rain, thick lashes holding crystals of water. I slipped my book away and picked up my tarp, unsure of what to do in this situation.
Run. I thought suddenly. He's staring at you.
I felt my stomach clench up with butterflies and cold as I turned and did exactly what I wanted to do . . . Run away.
I don't know why I ran. I just did. Something told me I had to. My books hitting my stomach painfully as I ran, I copied the people who ran, but for an entirely different reason than the rain.
I sprinted for cover.
I raced until I finally I reached my dorm. The fifth and top floor with a total of ten rooms on the level. My room was the only room in the whole building to house only one student: Me.
I climbed up the stairs, panting from my run through the rain, and nearly ran into 'Roxie' or Roxanne Kyle, my only friend on my floor.
"Oh! Phoebe! I was just looking for you. Still refusing to listen to Mother nature are you?" she teased. She had long red hair with black strips being braided throughout it. Her pale blue eyes were stunning and she wore a sheik black tank top and non-ripped up jeans, varying from her norm. Her lips were red with the dark lipstick she loved to use and her hair was expertly done.
"Going out to see another boyfriend, Rox?" I asked. I was the only one allowed to call her 'Rox'. It was mainly because I could always tell who she was going out with and could cover for her whenever she needed me to. She burned through so many boyfriends sometimes they mashed together and I had to make sure they never met. My research and my skills combine to make me the perfect spontaneous alibi.
"Yeah, teacher this time. Took me forever to get him to go out with me." She said smearing a thinner-than-usual layer of mascara on her eyes.
"I could tell all that without you telling me." I mumbled. It was my curse, my ability to observe, analyze and remember everything I see. The non-ripped jeans meant someone who didn't approve of delinquency, the darker lipstick was meant for someone older (because it made her seem more mature) and Rox had been complaining recently about a teacher not letting up in her attempts of seducing him.
"Oh, right. Then you don't need me to tell you that Jake might come asking for me and-"
"At the movies with Stella or studying with Marcey?" I looked over her expression for a moment then nodded. "Movies with Stella. I got it." She winked.
"Thanks Pheeb. I owe you one."
"A lot more than one if you plan to return all those favors. Just what's the name of this lucky teacher? Someone I know?" I asked and Rox threw her head back and laughed.
"He's no one you'd know. He's my favorite teacher." She said and I rolled my eyes.
"You mean the mathematician? He's the one you complain about the most." Asked and she gave me a sly smile.
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Don't try that on me. It's the math guy." I sighed then shook my head. "You really shouldn't go out with one of your teachers." I muttered and she laughed again.
"Don't worry. It won't work out. That rain'll ruin everything." She nodded towards the window and I laughed.
"Yeah, have fun. Tell him that joke you know." I said, sounding serious and starting up the stairs again.
"You should look at getting a boyfriend too. With your gorgeous lashes and those killer curves you could get anyone." She slapped my butt to prove her point and I kicked at her scuffing some mud on her pants. "Eck! Pheebs! I have a date in ten minuets!" she groaned.
"Don't worry. The rain'll ruin everything." I nodded to the pants and she gave me a pity look.
"I mean it Pheebs. Find yourself someone. You'll end up all alone looking at faces and body language and whatever the hell else you look at up in your room. I'm almost scared to look at what you have up in there." She jerked her head upwards and I rolled my eyes, thinking of the strange dark man in the rain. Who –other than me- would be out in the rain without an umbrella?
"Why would I need someone? By the way, you have a date. Go have fun. I'll keep Jake off your tail, but I'm not ending it for you." I warned and she gave me a last wink.
"Thanks Pheebs. I'm off." I smiled quietly as she pulled out a portable umbrella and walked into the rain, waving at her back.
It took years for Rox to get close enough to me to make me laugh. I still am amazed at how she did it. I turned and walked the rest of the stairs, and I saw Rox running through the rain to an umbrella covered stranger, though I couldn't see his face. He also had a portable umbrella and I could only see his feet. His shoes and pant legs were soaked and muddy, like he'd been out in the rain for a while.
"Have fun." I mumbled smirking, "Don't do anything stupid." I opened the door to my room, never locking it for knowing what's inside, and walked in.
Inside was a wall covered in faces and pictures.
They looked like creepy stalker pictures of everyone around campus- and they were, in a way.
I had taken pictures of every emotion and example of lying and expression I could, hoping it would prove my thesis, which they did. All of my pictures were sneakily taken, close ups, far shots, circles, pictures of the muscles in the faces, everything in my room profiled me as a serial killer waiting to happen.
I ignored all of my pictures –knowing what they looked like already and promising myself I'd look at them (again) later- and instead went to my book. I called it my stalker book -actually everyone called it the stalker book- because it held pictures of almost everyone on campus. I had habits and the schedules of all the students I could get. I had, more than once, broken up a long lasting relationship because of my pictures.
However I wasn't interested in all of those pictures, or at least I wasn't interested in the people I usually was interested in. I started digging through my 'stalker book', which held all the pictures I'd ever taken, and searched. Each picture had little notes stuck to the sides of all the pictures noting every expression I could catch, every story of what was happening. I ignored them and went to my crowd pictures, the ones of scenes, the ones where I perched in trees or on towers and took scenic photos. I rummaged, for any sign, any proof, and any figure who resembled the one I'd seen in the rain.
I began to search.
After hours of searching through my books, going over again and again the pictures I gave up and threw the book furiously onto my bed.
"Stupid." I growled at myself. "So stupid, Phoebe. What did you expect?" there was a furious knock on the door and I slowly turned towards it. "Come on in Jake." I called and he opened the door, sneering down at me. I could tell he was freaked out at me knowing it was him, after all he didn't know me, nor my reputation well enough understand.
"Where's Roxi?" he said directly, not bothering to hid his fear and disgust of my room nor his anger at Roxi. Jake had bleached hair and pale blue eyes. He was the kind of rebel Roxi usually went after and I tried to ignore the smell of pot on him.
"Why?" I muttered pulling up my research on my laptop.
"Because she's been avoiding me all day and I want to make sure we're still together. I know how she sluts around."
"Don't talk about her like that. And she's at the movies with Stella, if you must know." Stella was visiting her brother tonight, probably getting back well past midnight and transferring Roxi's alibi to a greater probability.
"Bull." He sighed and leafed through my pictures. "Roxi always has you cover for her. Where is she?"
"I told you, jackass. Don't touch my papers. Also I don't always cover for her." I glared and he glanced at me with a sneer before letting the papers fall to the ground.
"Oops." He said sarcastically and I was at his throat in seconds. My hand held a knife and I was nearly snarling. Even though Jake was a full foot taller than me I clearly had dominance.
"I said 'don't touch my papers', jackass." I glared and he whimpered a little. "That's right, I'm crazy. Now get out. I told you where she was and if you don't like it don't mess with me. Call her up or whatever." He stumbled towards the door.
"You bitch. I'll report this." I glanced at the clock. 11:25.
"Yeah, because you were in my room at 11:25 and I pulled a knife on you after you rifled through my things. How many people are gonna buy that?" I glared and he spit at me.
"Skank." He snorted and I threw the knife, missing his face by an inch. The blade imbedded itself into the wall about two inches.
I had classes in self-defense after my parents realized how much my gift could hurt me.
"Get out before I rip out your throat." I glared darkly, I half expected him to pee himself but he just left murmuring threats. Sighing I fell back onto the bed.
"Great. Another day gone wrong."
I didn't get to bed until four in the morning. I had been searching through my entire photo history to find the mysterious man in the rain, but had no luck. Eventually I gave up and collapsed in my bed. I kept my bed in the closet, because the light makes my eyes hurt, especially in the morning. I didn't dream about anything except water.
When I awoke it wasn't because I had simply woken up. I awoke because there was a loud pounding on my door.
"Miss Weiland? We're the FBI would you mind opening up?" came the deep booming voice. I growled and crawled out of the closet, closing my door to my bed and throwing open my front door.
"What?" I sighed, my hair probably looking like a rats nest. The man who stood in front of me was the tall dark and handsome kind. He had short hair and deep brown eyes, almost like the man in the rain, but this one was taller and more muscular with short-cropped hair, like a military man.
The second was a woman with long brownish blonde hair. She had a grimace on her face and was looking me over with what looked like disgust. I gestured for them to come in and glanced at the clock.
7:41.
Damn.
"You're Miss Phoebe Weiland?" the man asked as he entered carefully. He glanced at the knife in the wall and gave his partner an eyebrow-raising look, which turned into a look of horror at my walls.
"Why no, I just live here posing as Phoebe Weiland. I'm actually Gertrude Matilda the bear taming circus performer." I muttered sarcastically as I poured myself a bowl of 'Lucky Charms'.
"Very funny." The woman said and she looked around the room with horror. "You live here?" she nearly whispered and I nodded.
"Yeah. That's my psycho wall- or that's what people call it. I'm studying psychology here." They glanced at each other and the woman raised her eyebrows.
"What's the knife for?" the man asked sticking his thumb towards the wall knife.
"Someone came into my room last night. I let him in but he suddenly started messing up my stuff and shouting at me so I defended myself. I gave him fair warning and when he didn't leave . . ." I trailed off as I scooped the cereal into my mouth. "What's this about?" I asked through mouthfuls.
"Last night Roxanne Kyle was attacked." The woman said and I choked nearly spewing my breakfast back into my bowl.
"Is she okay? What happened? Have you caught anyone?" I was on my feet and across the table in a second.
"Calm down Miss Weiland. Miss Kyle was wounded, and she was put into a light coma. We came to ask you some questions on what she was doing last night-" I held up my hand to interrupt the detective. I took a deep breath and sighed.
"She was on a date with a teacher. All I can tell you is that he had a portable umbrella but didn't use it until a little time before meeting with Rox. He wore regular shoes and he works in the math department. She doesn't take his class anymore, I don't have any pictures from that department and he uses a chalkboard over a power point." I took a breath as the two stared at me.
"Oh, is that all?" the man said sarcastically.
"No. Jake Finn is Rox's soon-to-be ex-boyfriend was the one who came into my room. I was covering for Roxi because she didn't like him anymore. She knows I don't break up her boyfriends, I just cover in case she didn't have time and they come asking. He was pretty upset that she hadn't called him and was being pretty rough."
"Sounds like you know her schedule pretty well." Said the woman in an angry tone.
"Okay . . . Can you tell me who you are? I feel at a disadvantage." I asked ignoring the woman as coldly as I could.
"Ah, yes. I'm Don Eppes and this is Megan Reeves, with the FBI." He showed me his badge and I glanced at it. Real. Miss Reeves pulled out her badge and I caught a glimpse of her wallet and phone.
"Yeah, okay. Can we talk and walk? I want to see Rox."
"You want to see some Rocks?" the woman scoffed like it was a joke and I glared at her.
"Do you to stop insulting me or not?" I asked and she sneered. Geeze what was this woman's problem.
"Just try it." She snapped and I sighed.
"You speak fluent French, you have three sisters, probably older. You're currently sleeping with two men but are ending it with both of them today because you value your job over relationships. You don't keep in touch with your father. You teach at the YMCA. You teach a defense class. You made all your life choices before you were of legal age and you are in love with a co-worker, probably-"
"ENOUGH." She said before I could say 'the tall dark and dangerous Don'.
"Wow that was impressive. How'd you do that?" Don asked and I shrugged.
"She curls her r's occasionally and I saw her phone. Three missed calls from her father and a text message with a name Sarah under the family tab. Usually, if it was a younger sister, there would be a nickname like 'little lizzy' or something like that meaning she's older, but you also had two more tabs under there, neither was your father because he didn't have a tab on his messages and your mother is probably dead or gone for the other things to be true. You're wearing two different colognes, both for men, but no sane person see's two men on the same day so early unless they're ending it with both of them. You ignored all of the calls from you father, implying you really didn't want to talk to him and you're awfully young to be an FBI agent meaning you had to start young. And finally, your wallet has a YMCA card, which is frequently used, and I can assume from your fiery protective personality you don't participate in class the same as a student, but you seem protective of civilians." They both gaped at me for a little while longer as I finished my cereal and gulped down the milk.
"You got all that just by looking at her?"
"I wish." I muttered.
"What?" he asked and I grimaced.
"That's it." I said more loudly and the girl snorted.
"Where were you last night at around mindnight?" she asked and I suddenly realized why they were here.
"Oh my god! I'm a suspect!" I declared and Eppes stuck out his hand.
"We're just exploring every possibility." He said calmly and I nodded.
"So I'm a possibility. I'll tell you now, I didn't do anything but I don't have an alibi. I was here, looking for a picture." I nodded towards my stalker book and they glanced uneasily at each other.
"Can anyone-"
"No. I was alone after 11: 25." I sighed. I started getting my shoes on and grabbed my jacket when the lady stepped in front of me.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked and I glared.
"To see my best friends. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go." I stepped around her and opened the door, waiting for them. "You're no longer allowed in my domain but you can walk with me and continue to question me." They looked again at each other and I rolled my eyes.
"Are you two psychic? You keep trying to talk with your eyes." Another glance at each other. "See she just said 'I don't trust her' and you just said 'put that aside, we need her'. What's going on? What about this makes me such a suspect? Why would you need me?" they glanced at each other, realized what they were doing and looked away.
"I don't know. Why don't you tell us?" the woman said looking towards me. They lead me out the door.
What a horrible day.