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Back The Infinite Noise Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

“Caleb,” he sighs, “please. You don’t need to be here when I’m like this. I know I’m not exactly the best company right now.”

“You’re always the best company,” I mumble, shimmying closer to him. One blade of grass bursts through the concrete. A single beam of sunlight starts to stream through the clouds.

In the next moment it’s gone.

44

ADAM

I wish I could control this. Caleb has the ability to feel the emotions of any human on the planet, and he’s getting better and better at controlling that ability all the time. I can’t control even one of my emotions. I want to eradicate this feeling forever. I never want to see how it infects Caleb, how it makes him slow and dull and takes away the light in his eyes. I feel like a parasite, a leech that’s sucking all the goodness out of him.

And yet, he stays. He stays and is a life raft for me. And we do our best to float until the dark cloud passes and then I try everything in my power to take advantage of the sunny days.

Today is one of those days. I showed up at Caleb’s house after the last—and only—meeting for Latin club this semester. The club is only me and one other student, so it’s not exactly a big time commitment.

I pull Caleb out into his backyard the moment he invites me in and grab one of the various footballs that’s always lying around. Caleb’s face lights up in a surprised smile and we toss the football back and forth until the sun goes down. Caleb does his best to explain some plays to me and I do my best to be interested. Football isn’t so boring when it’s Caleb explaining it.

It eventually turns into a messy touch football game between the two of us that doesn’t have any coherent rules or boundaries but which does involve a good deal of tackling, which I am more than okay with.

At one point, I have possession of the ball, running around in the setting sun with no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. Caleb guns for me, grabbing me around the legs and tossing me over his shoulder. He runs to whatever section of the yard he had determined was the end zone and claims a touchdown, despite the fact that I’m still holding the football.

“Well, I’m holding you,” he says, victorious, spinning around as I hold on for dear life, still slung over his broad shoulders, “so by the transitive property…”

“Ooh, look at … you,” I wheeze out, getting dizzy, “Mr.… Smart … Guy.”