Elayne had not realized that Ritchie was in the same elevator car until the doors shut. She didn’t particularly care. So what if he has a strong Connect? Doesn’t matter.
“Excuse me, Elayne? What’s a Connect?” Elayne gasped against her will and glanced sharply down at the small boy. Damn! How does he know? “Are you telepathic?” she asked aloud.
He shook his head rapidly. “No way! I just get impressions. Vague ideas.”
Elayne was confused. That shouldn’t be. I’ve never heard of a Connect like this. It seems incredibly weak. So why am I getting such a string vibe off him?
Ritchie shuffled his feet. “Can you please stop looking at me like that? It’s uncomfortable.”
Elayne twitched; she hadn’t meant to stare at the kid. “Sorry!” she said. She fixed her eyes in the ceiling; it was an unattractive yellow-green color. Ew.
“I don’t like the ceiling either,” Ritchie said.
Elayne groaned. “Stop doing that!”
The boy shrugged. “Maybe, if you tell me what a Connect is.”
She rubbed her temple lightly. “Maybe later. Not here. Swing by my apartment later. Then I’ll tell you.”
Ritchie looked nervous for the first time. “You’re not weird, are you?”
“No! Well, not like that.” The elevator doors opened, and Elayne breathed a sigh of relief. God, that was uncomfortable.
Ritchie also walked out, but on his way, he tripped and fell, the book flying away from him, straight towards a puddle of still-drying soda. “No!” he squealed, forcing his arm out. The book stopped mid-flight, and flew straight towards Ritchie’s hand.
Elayne gaped at him, dumbstruck. Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.
To be continued