“How did your exams go?” Jericho asked.

“They went well,” Tristen said. “I got As, which doesn’t mean much since they’re only gen ed classes. I did good on that essay though; the TA thought it was interesting.”

“Nice,” he said.

Jericho and Tristen walked along the downtown area’s riverfront and followed the water’s current. The afternoon sun pelted their backs, while a cool breeze made the heat manageable.

“I like what you did with your hair,” she said. “I noticed some gray last week, but I guess you went all out on that? The white and black create a nice, gray-like color. It suits you.”

Jericho sighed. “Thank you.”

“You don’t like it?” she asked.

“No, I like it. I’m not used to it. That’s all.”

Jericho pulled his bangs over his eyes. The white patch that took up a small fraction of his hair grew into proportions he would not have imagined. The tips and shafts of his hair follicles were white, while the roots varied. The roots were mostly black but some were white and some were gray. He did not mind the color change and was growing to like it, but he still did not know the reason for its change.

He went to his primary doctor to talk about the growth, but the tests he performed came back normal. He went as far as to tell his doctor about his abilities and his training regimen. The information did not help much, and his doctor only looked at him weirdly. His doctor said that there was a possibility that it was due to how he was treating his body, but Jericho said he felt healthy otherwise.

Jericho did not care much if his doctor could help or not. If his doctor was clueless now, then he would be just as clueless later on. Jericho did not care for speculation of what could be the problem. He wanted answers.

When he asked his mom she told him that nobody in her family had genetics that would cause it, nor would any genetics on his father’s side. His mom assured him not to worry, and that it was normal to experience odd changes with abilities.

But, hair does not simply turn gray, especially at his age.

“I dyed mine blonde last year,” she said. “The color speaks to me.”

“What was it before?”

“Black.”

Jericho took a long look at her hair noticing the black roots.

“I need to redye it.”

“It looks nice,” Jericho said. “The faded roots add more personality to it.”

She thanked him.

Jericho thought about things to talk about but was coming up blank. It did not help that he was always so secretive. Luckily a topic came into mind. He said, “How does your ability work? If I remember correctly you didn’t want to tell me since it was packed in the coffee shop.”

“I can sense the presence of the world around me,” she said. She grabbed Jericho’s hand and guided him to a tree.

She said, “My body senses this world and as a result, I understand or know things that I shouldn’t. People would refer to such things as a hunch or instinct, but I simply know. I’m not a clairvoyant, although some things I do are similar. I merely see what is happening right now, and feel the energy of what I’m given.”

She moved her hand away from Jericho’s palm and placed it on the tree. Her fingers outstretched with the pads resting on the hard bark.

“I can sense this tree as it is and what it’s been through. A young boy planted this tree 9 years ago during a community event, and this tree still feels the boy’s warmth. It surges with it rather.

“That’s a very spiritual power,” Jericho said.

“Spiritual? I like that description, but I’m not sure I would describe it like that.”

“How else would you describe it? Does it work on people?”

“Don’t know, and it does.”

“What’s it say about me?”

“You’re odd,” she said. She removed her hand from the tree and sat down at the tree’s base. Jericho followed, and they were both covered by the shade. “Something about you throws my ability off. Maybe that’s why I decided to talk to you that first time. I thought my essay was throwing me off and I needed a break, but it was you. It’s something about your presence.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “But, it’s not good either.”

“I’m not sure what to think of that,” he said. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m mostly intrigued. It’s not a feeling I feel often.”

Jericho nodded. She spoke to him initially because of his presence, but she must have stuck with it because of how he presented himself. He was unsure if he was hurt or weirded out by the information, but he did not care all too much, so he tucked away the information. She was curious, and he could respect that.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He said, “Do you have to be in physical contact for it to work, or does it get stronger when you do?”

“It gets stronger,” she said. “To be honest, I sneaked a peak by grabbing your hand. It’s sort of a habit I have to gauge a person.”

He now understood why she was interested in becoming a detective. Her ability would be useful during interrogations; her gut feelings would help her.

“I don’t fully understand it,” he said.

“Me neither,” she said.

They sat in silence while the wind brushed against their skin.

Open up a little. The thought forced its way into his head and he found himself saying, “I only got my abilities recently. I don’t mind telling you, since people are going to know eventually. And it’s only right that I explain mine since you explained yours.”

Why did he justify the reason he was telling her? Or was he justifying the sudden outburst to himself?

“I’m a healer. I’m not very good at it, but I’m trying to get better. Self-training is going a lot easier than I thought it would, but I might need some help later on. I’m still unsure of my limits and who and what I can heal, but I’m making progress. I haven’t even made a bluff ability yet.”

For the first time in forever, he was being open with someone. This someone was not his mother, nor Harrison, not even a doctor paid to listen to Jericho’s thoughts. This someone was a stranger. He was revealing information about his ability to a girl who he only met recently.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What?” Jericho said. He was unsure why she thanked him.

“You didn’t have to tell me about your ability,” she said. “Your ability is rare, so I understand why you would be secretive about it.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Tristen said. “You don’t seem very trusting of people, but I think that’s a good thing.”

“You already know that I can heal, so it doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s not as impressive now that I told you more about it.”

“All healing is impressive,” she said. “You’re new at it too, so you might be more amazing than you already are.”

“I suppose.”

Jericho paused to think.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked.

His mind continued since it came this far, and he knew this was the only person he could ask.

“Go for it,” she said.

“I know you might not take classes related to it, but have you learned anything about the growth of white hair in healers or even in general? My friend Harrison usually learns odd, obscure facts from his classes and tells me about them, but I was just wondering if you would happen to know something about it.”

“That’s a rather specific question. What brings that up?”

Jericho scratched his head. “My hair changed colors recently. I went to get it checked, but I didn’t get much of an answer.”

“I haven’t learned any facts about white hair in my college classes.” She laughed a little, then apologized. “Sorry, it does sound like something I’d read in an English class or something a science professor would go off on a tangent about during a lecture.”

He sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

“Have you tried searching it up or looking through books in a library?”

“I’m too cautious to do that,” he said. “Actually, I’m too paranoid to do that. It’s gotten to a point that I’ve considered outside help. My first step would be applying to a school or joining the army. That would offer me some protection. I’d rather other people know that I have a power, but that I’m also affiliated with an organization. The military tends to protect their own more, but schools do it too.”

“What’s wrong with keeping it a secret?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I have a feeling that the truth is going to come out soon. Not eventually, but soon. Something about this white hair throws me off, and I’d rather it be revealed on my own terms.”

“Throw you off how?”

Jericho caught himself mid-breath, then remembered he needed to breathe.

He said, “It feels like a target. It’s such an ostentatious marking. All I need now is some red paint, and to draw some lines and circles to make a crosshair. White hair on a young adult? It’s like I want to be seen.”

“Someone’s power, perhaps?” She said.

“I don’t know how I know, but I think my body did it on its own. I doubt my hair changed due to someone’s power. Can I ask you to do something weird?”

“Would it be any weirder than you asking about white hair?”

Despite asking the question, Tristen acknowledged what Jericho wanted her to do without him explaining. She took a deep breath, and rest her hand softly on his head, fingers spread across his hair. Upon contact, she exhaled immediately and removed her hand.

She closed her eyes. Her breaths turned shallow, and Jericho watched as she attempted to regulate her breathing. Once she obtained a steadier cycle, she reopened her eyes.

“What?” Jericho said. "Are you okay?"

She struggled, and her breathing turned shallow again before she could finally give him an answer. She said, “I think you might have healed my friend.”