Grace was glued to the wall of television sets, with news of the Virginia Tech shootings radiating through many of the screens. 22 people dead. 25 people dead. 33 people dead. Two shooters? No - one shooter. Maybe.
Emily teleported into the television room on her scheduled break, wondering what the heck she was doing there. The shootings had only happened that morning. Emily herself was too busy dealing with her practice of psychic skills. Grace did not even notice her in there.
"What's up, Grace? Kintana is waiting for you to get to the martial arts training."
"Look." Up on the screen, there were images of Virginia Tech massacre reports, going on and on. There was a press conference with police and several heads at the university.
Emily had a vision: Grace was imagining some of her high school friends covered in blood and shot in the head. She could not stop it.
She then concentrated on the friends in the vision, and noticed they were simply crying and holding onto their new friends. One of them was packing her bags with laundry, change and personal items; another was posting fliers for a candlelight vigil that evening. They all wore Virginia Tech logo clothing.
Emily put her arm around Grace's shoulder. "Honey, all your friends are safe. They'll be at a vigil tonight."
"How do you know?"
"I told you. I'm psychic."
"I think I'm in shock."
"I understand. Is there anything I can do?"
"Maybe a friend to be there with?"
"Sounds good. Why don't we meet back here after our training to get a hot brown?"
"Sure. But where will we get a hot brown here?"
"I know how to make it. I've studied at UK."
"Wait. Were you that white-haired basketball dynamo Emily Vanderbilt?"
"It's Vaziri now. And I've been injured."
"We all know. I'm just glad I met you."
"Same here. Let's get to the training session and we'll arrange for some school color solidarity uniforms?"
"Okay."
"Back here after the sessions."
Emily transported out. She felt it would be better to simply wait until the information was there; at least a day or two. She also knew the school colors would be hideous in a uniform; she did not care.
The only question Emily felt would have answered through the media: What was a Hokie?