Everything Is So Loud [Sean]

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had opinions about the testing policy, but, despite his authoritative position and twenty-five years of employment, nobody had taken his advice to heart yet. The alternative testing accommodations remained in use for students who possessed certain powers, irrespective of their conduct. If he could tweak those policies before he retired (which, admittedly, was at least a decade and a half in the future, assuming no health problems), then he would consider his tenure a success.

The psychiatrist nodded his understanding. Of course it seemed far away right now; she had manifested recently, and telepathy was a power that required so much training in addition to an entire perspective shift. Combined with how painful and overwhelming untrained telepathy and the side effects could be, and with how young she was such that four or five years in the future was the same distance as between her and being in the single digits of age, and no wonder if seemed impossibly far off. He had been there. Every telepath before her had been there, and every future telepath would be there when they manifested. “I know it does,” he replied sympathetically. He did know. “But if you can use it to find some hope or inspiration when you feel a bit better, then take it in that spirit.”

Hard and different, which was to say difficult and different, the two “diff”-words that described adjustment to Hammel for so many students. It grew worse for students the shyer they were, or the better their lives had been prior to relocating to Hammel (as those from impoverished or abusive backgrounds faced an entirely different set of challenges), or if they were international students, or depending on the nature of their powers or their side effects. The psychiatrist had a mental list of powers he considered far more unfortunate than telepathy, but not everyone agreed with that assessment, partially due to anti-psychic bias in society.

“It’s quite the adjustment,” he said gently. “What do you miss most about home?”

[Rory Lennox]

Gaining control of her powers did seem impossibly far away right now. Her trainer told her that the time it took varied from student to student, but it did usually take at least a few years. She knew - well, really she hoped - she’d get it eventually. She was just hoping that eventually would be sooner, rather than later.

Rory missed a lot of things about home. She missed her parents and her dog and her house. She missed how warm it was in Arizona (at this point she had decided that she didn’t like the cold). And she missed all her friends at her studio. It was hard pick just one of those things and say she missed it the most.

“Almost everything.” She answered. “I really miss my friends at home, and being able to dance every day.” Hammel did have their own dance team, but it definitely wasn’t the same as the studio and the other dancers she grew up with. And they weren’t allowed to compete, which Rory thought was strange. What was the point of even having a dance team if you couldn’t go to competitions?

But the hardest adjustment was definitely how different her life was now. Her mother said that it would probably be good for her to attend a normal (well, sort of normal) school and to focus on something that wasn’t dance. Rory was still a little skeptical about that. And her mother was always commenting on how it sounded like Rory was doing well. And she was in a way. She was always independent, so even though she missed her parents it wasn’t like she needed them. It was also easy for her to make new friends, so her whole adjustment phase really could have been worse if she thought about it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded sympathetically. He heard variations on that same theme from most of the students who passed through his office, and he had experienced a similar situation forty-six years ago when he had been first recruited to Hammel as well. He had missed his parents and sister, his friends, his school, his church, and the freedom to roam around his hometown instead of being stuck on campus in constant pain. He could only assume that the additional frustration that came from participating in a time-consuming structured activity like dance.

At least Hammel had a dance club. It wasn’t the same as being on a competitive team, but the school wasn’t allowed to compete. Club sports and teams were all that they could offer, but the staff considered them a positive influence, certainly better than no sports or teams at all.

“I missed most everything at your age too,” he admitted. “I adapted, but it’s another layer on top of everything else to cope with.” Between recent manifestation and the social, emotional, hormonal, and physical aspects of puberty, all coupled with continuing junior high and senior high school course work, it was more than any one person should deal with. But there were no alternatives.

The psychiatrist grew thoughtful for a moment, before he asked, “Do you like hot cocoa?”

[Rory Lennox]

Rory had assumed that there were students who had it worse than she did. Students who’ve been here for years, but still had trouble with side effects and controlling their powers. Students who had trouble making new friends. Like most fourteen year olds, Rory was a little self-absorbed, so she had to actively remind herself that her situation was definitely not the worst situation. Sometimes that helped, though she wasn’t sure if that made her a bad person.

And the dance club was better than not being able to dance at all, but it definitely wasn’t as structured as the classes she’d take every day at home. Her mother told her that was something she’d have to compensate with herself, since there really wasn’t anything anyone could do about it.

“Yeah…it’s kind of a lot to deal with all at once.” Rory agreed. She was used to juggling a lot things at once; her schoolwork, her dance, her social life, though the latter two were almost one in the same. “Will it really take years? To be around people again?” That was really what was bothering her the most, the fact that it hurt to be around more than a couple people at once. She’d get over the lack of dance in her life eventually (maybe), and she made friends easily. But how was she supposed to meet new people if it hurt to be around too many of them? And it’d be hard for her to go to big school functions when literally the whole school was going to be there.

She looked up at him when he asked if she liked hot cocoa. She did, but truthfully she didn’t drink it often. It was something her mother made her when she was especially stressed out, or if it was a particularly cold night. And since she lived in Arizona, cold nights were rare. Normally, she usually turned down sweets or junk food, but given the circumstances it did sound nice. “I do.” She answered, with a small smile.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had been fourteen once himself, and he had seen tens of thousands of students come through the school over the past twenty-five years. He knew how difficult it could be to conceptualize other people’s problems when overwhelmed oneself, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

Sean also wouldn’t lie to her. The psychiatrist had a policy about not lying to the students about issues that would affect them, since whatever comfort they might gain in the short-term would pale in comparison to the disappointment in the long-term, coupled with the inability to plan accordingly or to properly cultivate the necessary coping skills in the face of a realistic timeline or situation. As such, he could only respond, “It’s true, it will take years.” That was the harsh reality of manifesting a power like telepathy, one that required such dedicated training to master, coupled with learning to develop mental shields for one’s own privacy and sanity – as opposed to a power like cellular regeneration, which operated entirely unconsciously. “But after a while, it seems less daunting, and, in the end, it’s worth the investment.” Sean was living proof.

When she affirmed that she liked hot cocoa, the psychiatrist offered her a smile and then slowly pushed himself into a kneeling position. “How about we go make some hot cocoa? The caffeine might make you feel a bit better.” It would be nicer for her than sitting in the dark in the auditorium.

[Rory Lennox]

Rory deflated a little bit when Dr. Neville told her that it would - not probably would, but would - take years to get a good grasp on her powers. Not that she came here and expected to be a whiz and pick everything up quickly, like she did with dance and school, but years was a long time. Longer than it took her to ever learn anything. And it was so subjective; years could mean maybe two or three, or it could stretch up to longer than ten.

She supposed it would be worth it in the end, if only to not go through days like these in the future. The fact that she would eventually (hopefully) one day develop a shield that was strong enough to keep people’s thoughts, or at least the majority of people’s thoughts, at bay was a little comforting. Still, it just seemed like a very long investment. Especially since it was for something she never asked for.

Maybe some hot chocolate would calm her down; she hadn’t had it in a while, and it was always freezing in this state. Wasn’t the season supposed to be changing to spring now? It definitely didn’t feel like it, and Rory found herself always cold ever since she moved from Phoenix.

Rory looked down at her notebook on her lap. Her geometry problems still weren’t done, but she’d probably have to rewrite the page anyway. She didn’t think her teacher would be too thrilled if she handed in a paper covered with blood, even if it was just a few drops. That would be gross.

“Okay.” She agreed. Her homework could wait…at least until the throbbing in her head dulled down. She doubted she could give her best work if she was trying to fight her headache. “Where are we going?” Did they have hot chocolate in the cafeteria?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Although Sean understood her disappointment (as he had found similar explanations equally difficult to fathom as a student), he still considered the assurance both worthwhile and encouraging overall. She might need time to adjust, but the fact that it was possible to master telepathy at all was positive, and, at least to the long-grown twelve-year-old Sean Neville, nothing short of miraculous. That the mind was capable of exerting any sort of control over one’s telepathic senses had amazed him as a concept at that age, since he couldn’t turn off his vision or sense of smell through willpower and dedication.

But there was time for her to adjust.

From his kneeling position, the psychiatrist slowly rose to his feet. “The cafeteria. It’s off-hours, so we should be alone, and I know the chef; he’ll let us raid the kitchen without giving us any trouble.” Ferris might not want the students back there unattended, but he was sure that the younger man wouldn’t object to Sean accompanying Rory on a quest for something as innocuous as hot cocoa, particularly since it would involve no additional work on Ferris’s part.

In fact, he might let them take some of his famous homemade marshmallows as well. “Do you prefer whipped cream or marshmallows with your cocoa?”

[Rory Lennox]

Apparently they did have hot chocolate in the cafeteria. Did they serve it all the time? She didn’t remember them ever passing it out when she went in for lunch or dinner. “They have hot chocolate there?” Then again, Rory barely looked at the other drinks they had while she was reaching for water. They could have easily been serving it all semester and Rory might not have noticed.

She’d also never been in the kitchen area before. Probably for good reason; she doubted that they let the students behind where the line ended often, if at all. Even at her old middle school, students were definitely not allowed behind the counter. Even when they were picking up food for school events there was always some faculty member or cafeteria worker who got it out of the kitchen for them.

“I’ve actually never had either in my hot chocolate.” Rory admitted, sheepishly. They didn’t keep marshmallows or whipped cream in their house unless they were having a party or something that called for it. She’d had those marshmallows that came with the Swiss Miss packets, but those were actually kind of gross. She didn’t think Dr. Neville meant those icky small ones though.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded in confirmation. “They have hot cocoa there.” They typically served it in the winter and on weekends during breakfast, but the psychiatrist felt confident that they had packets in the back, even if Ferris and the other staff had not put them out recently. If, for some reason, he was wrong, then he could check and raid the staff lounge on her behalf.

On his feet now, Sean began to walk down the aisle towards the auditorium exit. “We’ll have to fix that,” he promised her. “Our head chef, Mister Malkin, makes the most delicious marshmallows, and I know there are at least two types of whipped cream.” Ferris elevated the cuisine at Hammel above that in many other schools. More than that, he often prepared homemade treats for friends and coworkers, which led to the psychiatrist possessing more than one jar of home-canned preserves.

Once out of the auditorium, he led her down the corridor towards the cafeteria, walking slowly so that his long stride wouldn’t put him too far ahead of her. He continued to shield heavily, so that, at least while they were together, she need not worry about his errant thoughts; Robert had done the same for him when the psychiatrist had been a student, and it was the least he could do for the girl.

“Would you like anything to eat with the cocoa? I know we have plenty of fresh fruit.” With the seasons changing, Ferris’s produce selections had turned towards spring and summer selections.