Psync by Zile Elliven

Chapter Four

Eli

The first few days of class went by in a blur as Eli systematically worked his way through his teachers, wheedling and cajoling his way into testing out of each class. So far, he had three out of five teachers on board.

Somehow, he had fallen into the pattern of collapsing into an exhausted, but optimistic, pile of goo next to Alice and Nate as they ate lunch every day. Sometimes he even managed to find the energy to eat with them.

On day three, he discovered he and Alice were both in the same History of Japanese Religion class, and the two sat in the back rating various Buddhist priests on hotness using a completely arbitrary scale.

Juniper would have loved it.

After class, Nate met them outside and demanded they follow him to his dorm to have lunch. Eli was still struggling to juggle his class syllabus into his backpack when it happened again.

:Why is it always my right shoe that gets soaked? This happens every day.:

Eli stumbled and nearly spilled the contents of his bag across the hallway, but at the last second, he managed a—relatively—graceful save.

:Beautiful moron . . .:

“Eli . . . hey, Eli!” A delicate hand with intricate nail polish designs in shades of pink and blue waved at him from the doorway as Alice tried to get his attention. “Are you coming?”

“Sorry, just having fine motor control issues.”

“Well, hurry up, I need you to defend my virtue if people find out I went to this dork’s room alone.”

“Um . . .” Eli looked down at himself, then back at Alice who easily topped him by two inches and may or may not have had more muscle mass as well. Petite was the word his mother often used to describe him. Juniper called him travel-sized. He liked to claim he was densely packed for maximum power—on days he was feeling particularly self-delusional.

He gave her a feeble smile in response.

“Don’t tease him, I think he’s cute.” A new voice joined in, followed by a heavy arm over Eli’s shoulders.

Wrongwrongwrong . . .

His face froze into a panicked half-smile as he took in the stranger.

He was taller than Nate by an inch and had messy, light brown hair. If Eli wasn’t busy trying to figure out how to politely escape back to his room, he might have called the effect charming.

“Eli’s having a stressful day, if you need cuddles, go for Nate.” Alice said gaily and smoothly lifted the newcomer’s arm away from Eli and dropped it onto Nate’s shoulder instead.

“Sorry, Eli. The name’s Sam.” The boy stretched out a hand.

Eli looked at it, feeling a bit like he was being handed an old, dead fish. This was normal. Normal people shook hands. Eli shook hands, even. On good days though. Not after having another brush with what he had started to call the Voice. Just as he was about to suck it up and shake the outstretched hand, Nate intervened, knocking it away.

“If there isn’t food in that hand, we aren’t interested. We’re starving man, you’re more likely to pull that thing back as a bloody stump.” Nate laughed and pulled on Alice’s arm. “Come on, folks. My stomach waits for no one.”

Eli bowed at Sam because he watched way more anime than was normal, (but honestly, bowing was such a graceful, noninvasive way to greet people, and it really should catch on in Massachusetts if people were smart) then he turned and hurried after his friends, secretly marveling at how smoothly they’d helped him.

He tended to have mixed results with his touch aversion, ranging anywhere from narrowly escaping a hug with only mild awkwardness to being full-on tackle hugged and smiling outwardly while silently screaming inside.

“Thanks,” he said once he’d caught up to his friends. “It’s not that I don’t like people, I just don’t deal well with touching.”

Alice said, “Is this all the time? Or is it first week stress?” Her face showed nothing but mild curiosity.

“The stress makes it worse, but . . .” He really didn’t want to finish. Exposing his stupid issues to the first nice people he’d met wasn’t his favorite idea, but they were friends now. Didn’t that mean they had a right to know? “On a regular basis I feel that way all the time, but it’s manageable. It’s just ramped up right now.”

“Any touch? Or just hugging?” Nate’s face was calm. Neutral. Giving Eli no clue how the guy was feeling.

“I can touch other people, but, well, it feels wrong. Like, there’s something under my skin that activates and says, Intruder Alert! Man your battle stations! If I know someone very well, I barely notice, but if I don’t know the person, it’s pretty unpleasant.”

Nate nodded. “Good to know. I’m allergic to shrimp, like deathly. So, if you see me about to eat some, you should stop me.” He mimed smacking something imaginary out of his hand. “And Alice doesn’t talk to her dad. Ever. So, if a guy comes up to you claiming to be her dad, call me. I’ll take care of it.”

Alice’s sunshine smile dimmed, but she gave Eli a thumbs up. “Everyone’s got quirks. Our job is to find friends to help us deal with them. Lucky for you, we happen to have an opening in our group.” Her smile turned up to full power leaving Eli a little dazzled.

“That’s . . .” Eli choked on his words, and he blinked his stinging eyes rapidly.

Alice continued to smile, and Nate waved, encouraging him to come up the stairs to his dorm.

“I guess I could fit you two into my schedule,” he managed to say and summoned up a watery smile.

“Air hug!” Alice mimed wrapping her arms around Eli, and he laughed.

“If the drama is over, I am literally dying of starvation here. Please, just follow me before I keel over.”

“Fine, you emotionally stunted freak.” Alice sailed up the stairs and beat Nate through the front door, leaving Eli to catch up.

Once ensconced in Nate’s messy room, Eli found himself surrounded by a mountain of food, most of which he’d never seen. He couldn’t wait to try everything.

“This is all courtesy of my abuelita. She’s convinced I am going to starve to death and has no idea just how tiny my fridge is here. So, if you like something, take it home with you. Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor.” Nate shoved a Tupperware container into Eli’s hands. It held something that looked a bit like vanilla pudding with caramel on top.

Eli tore the top off and accepted the spoon Nate poked in his direction. He dug in and it tasted . . . Damn. He wrapped himself around the container and narrowed his eyes at the room. “I hope neither of you were planning on having any of this.”

The room exploded with laughter.

“Oh yes, we’re definitely keeping this one.” Alice wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Don’t worry, Eli. I’ve had Abuelita’s flan many times. That one is all yours.”

Eli nodded and said, through a mouthful of heaven, “Is she single?”

It might have been Eli’s imagination, but there seem to be a pause in the room before Nate said, “Sorry, man. My abuelo could crush you without even noticing. He’s even crazier about her cooking.”

“Ah well . . .”

“Don’t worry, Eli. If you’re on the hunt, we’ll find someone for you. What’s your type?”

Eli was, in fact, not on the hunt—for grandmothers, or anyone, but he played along.

“Well, a good cook is a definite must.” Eli searched through the containers until he found tamales. Jackpot. “Nice is also a plus.”

“What about . . . physical features?” Alice asked nonchalantly. Focusing completely on the plate of sausages Nate had just shoved at her.

“I don’t really have a physical type, to be honest. I haven’t really dated much.” Or at all. Ever. And if he was very lucky, he would extend that into the rest of forever.

“But what about—”

“Oh, quit beating around the bush, Alice. Eli, she wants to know if you’re a member of the Alphabet Mafia.” Nate waved a forkful of fried rice at Alice. “She wants someone to dye their hair pink with her, and she figures if you’re gay or bi, she’s got a shot. I’m sure as hell not doing it.”

It was one of the most unique ways he’d been asked that question, that was for certain. And definitely one of the more polite.

“But you don’t have to answer her just because her nosy ass is too cheap to go to a salon.”

“No, it’s okay. I just . . .” He trailed off. He never knew how to answer this question.

“If you’re worried about what I think, I have two moms. I’m an ally if I know what’s good for me.” Nate winked.

“Is it okay to answer that I’m not anything?”

“Are you ace? Asexual, I mean. It means not attracted to any gender.”

“I don’t really know.” The answer was more complicated than that, but he felt it was good enough for brand new friends. “Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay, it’s how you feel! That means it’s perfect.” Alice gave him another air hug, and this time he awkwardly returned it.

“Thanks.” And he meant it. Other than Juniper, until now, this conversation had never gone so well.

His mom was convinced he was a late bloomer. Maybe he was, but since he didn’t particularly care about dating, he didn’t bother with worrying about it. Everyone else’s opinion was slotted into his mental Other People’s Problems file.

Any other reaction was courting the bad place. And that wasn’t conducive to a happy Eli.

“Well, I can’t let you dye my hair, but I have experience dying my sister’s hair. I can definitely help.”

“Wait, what about the touch thing? Will you be okay?”

“Since I’ll be expecting it, and I know you, it should be okay.” He politely left off the part about wearing gloves and only touching her hair being another useful element to the equation. It just seemed nicer not to mention.

“Yay!” She flung up her hands, unfortunately each filled with an éclair. Both got squashed when they hit opposite ends of the rooms.

“Alice!”

“I’m cleaning it up!” Alice darted away, napkin in hand to deal with the fallout of her outburst. “But really, Eli, you should rethink the pink hair idea. Everyone will know were friends!”

Eli laughed. “Have you seen me? If you add pink hair to this, I’ll become everyone’s favorite stuffed animal. Hard Pass.”

Alice gave him the once over. “You do have a point. Every gay man within three miles would come after you like a starving beast.”

“Thanks . . .”

“Well, if you do end up liking guys, girls, or anyone in between, let me know, and we’ll help you get them.”

“Not likely but appreciated.” Even though his stomach was already stuffed to the brim, Eli continued to nibble on his tamale, so he didn’t have to talk anymore.

Find accepting friend group at school? Check.