The creak creak creak of the floorboards a few seconds later told me my prayers had not been answered. And as the front door closed and the sound of his ancient Chevy kicked to life, the only thing worse than the hunger pangs in his stomach were the anxious ones in my own.
*****
After Dad’s truck had cleared the gravel driveway and I was alone, I could relax and be myself. I raised one arm casually over my shoulder, gave my hand a quick swish, and watched as the curtain covering the small window gracefully slid open. But I didn’t bother looking outside the dusty pane—there was nothing out there but patches of dead yellow grass, and a narrow gravel road that led to a bigger dirt road that led to another dirt road.
I sighed, twisted my long hair into a sweaty bun and made my way out to the living room. Sitting down on Dad’s frayed couch, I placed my hand on the air unit. Normally the rusty box just blew the stale, musty air around the room.
But not when I touched it. Not when I wanted it to be cold…or hot.
My only regret was that I couldn’t do this when Dad was here so I could provide him with some comfort as well. He still had a difficult time believing teenagers walked around with cell phones these days. I could just imagine his reaction if he discovered his only daughter was something straight out of a science-fiction movie.
I let the cool waves of arctic breeze wash over me and ignored the growls in my stomach. Nothing that several tall glasses of ice water wouldn’t fix. Or at least, temporarily abate. These days, it was the best I could do.
I felt a sudden rush of sadness, quickly followed by frustration and anger. Why couldn’t I help him? What good were these bizarre powers of mine if I couldn’t even use them to help out our little struggling family?
I’d always known I was different and weird. I knew it by the way others treated me. Like I wasn’t one of them. Like I didn’t exist. It’d been like that for as long as I could remember. So I was used to it. That wasn’t what bothered me so much.
What freaked me out were the things I could do… because no one else could do them. Yet to me they felt totally natural. I didn’t know where these abilities had come from or what it all meant. But somehow I did know one thing with absolute certainty—
My secrets must remain secret.
It was frustrating at times, having to go through the pretense of normalcy. Like having to get up and walk across a room to open or close a window when I could just as easily do it from ten feet away with the slightest flick of a finger. At school, making sure my hand was actually touching the pages in my book as I turned them, instead of simply thinking them to turn. Snapping my fingers and making flames appear. Real, honest-to-goodness fire coming from the tips of my fingers. And I never got burned. Someone really needed to explain that little trick to me.
And being able to ‘see-ahead’ was often frustrating, and depressing, because there was usually nothing I could do to change anything I saw.
Sure, there were some perks. For the past week I’d seen that we were having a pop quiz in math today, so I studied extra hard for it. Even though for some reason I couldn’t see it this morning, I was sure it was still going to happen.
I’d also seen that Mr. Lowery was going to stop by around four o’clock to harass me for the rent money. So I’d made a mental note not to come home from school until well after then. Our portly landlord gave me the creeps. The feelings he had when he looked at me—
I shuddered with disgust.
Being able to feel people’s emotions…that was something I would much rather not be able to do. To have their feelings flood through me as if they were my own, just because they happened to be nearby, really messed with my head. And it didn’t help that I lived with someone as stressed out and depressed as my father, and spent my days surrounded by insecure and moody classmates.
It could be embarrassing too, and way unpredictable. One time I burst into sobs in the middle of history class because the parents of the girl sitting next to me were going through a rough divorce. Somehow she managed to keep the flood works turned off, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much.
Everyone had stared, of course. But then they’d given me the annoyed ‘Oh, it’s just the weird girl being weird again’ glare before turning away. No one cared that something might actually be wrong with me. They just wanted me to shut up so they could continue to pretend I didn’t exist.
The tiny apartment was cool now, so I tapped the box and the humming died away. In the kitchen I saw that I had been right—the remaining oatmeal had not been touched. I took the last of the frozen meat from the freezer and put it in the refrigerator to defrost. Enough for dinner tonight.
I didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
*****
After I’d showered and changed into a clean tank top and shorts, I gathered up my school books and sat back down on the couch.
I focused.
Rain…and then…
Nothing.
“AUGH!! I don’t care about the stupid rain!” I exploded to the empty room. “A lame weatherman can tell me that!”
A moment later I heard the sound of the school bus coming to a loud stop at the end of the road.
“NO! NO! NO!” I grabbed my books and raced out of the house. But the bus stop was almost a quarter mile away, and the cranky driver would never wait. I resigned myself to trekking the entire three miles to Acadia High School on foot.
About twenty minutes later the rain started. Thankfully no one else was around, because the steady stream of curse words coming from my mouth would have made even a hardened truck driver blush. The one thing I knew—that it was going to rain—and stupid me left home without my umbrella. Perfect!
I reached a finger up to hold my loose-fitting glasses in place and started to jog. I had some serious ground to cover, and I knew I was already going to miss first period.
I liked running though. Running made me feel strong…free. What I didn’t like was running to school in the pouring rain on dirt roads covered with potholes. I’d managed to avoid several before my foot landed in a small gap, and I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. Books flew everywhere as I hit the ground with a hard thud.
My hands and knees were scraped and bleeding, and for a second I was afraid that if I moved, the pain in my leg would get worse. But after a moment I realized my ankle was okay, and even my glasses had managed to escape unscratched. I felt little relief at that small miracle though, because now I was soaking wet and covered in mud. I debated just turning around and going home. Go back to bed and pretend today never happened.
But I knew I didn’t really want to do that. The tiny shack was way too depressing to be in alone all day. Besides, Mr. Lowery would be coming by for his money. And then there was that math quiz…
I sighed and submitted to my unpleasant fate. I continued on my way, slower this time. First period was shot anyways. No use in killing myself.
Forty-five minutes later I arrived in front of the school. There were no students in sight. This was the first good thing that had happened today. I hated walking past the cliques as they gathered for their morning reunions on the wide stairway. It was nauseating to see how excited they got—laughing and hugging and smiling as if they hadn’t seen each other for months, instead of merely a few hours. And so many of them were so phony! Acting all happy to see someone they secretly hated. It was enough to make me want to scream.
I pushed through the monstrous doors that led to the lobby, grateful again for the deserted hallways. I knew I looked worse than a mangy dog, and that all the students who usually just ignored me would be quick to notice my ratty appearance. And right now I just wasn’t in the mood for their spiteful snickers and callous whispers at my expense.
I made a beeline for the nearest bathroom and was relieved to find it empty. A clock on the wall told me I had fifteen minutes until the end of the class, and my reflection in the mirror told me I would need every precious second.
I was disgusted by the scraggy image that stare
d back at me. “A tear down,” Dad would say about a battered home that wasn’t worth repairing. That was me—a tear down. Where do I even begin? I cleaned off my glasses and decided I should’ve just gone back home.
My hair, which was covered with flecks of drying mud, was matted, frizzed, and frayed. I didn’t have a brush, so I had to make due with just my fingers and some water from the sink. But the natural waves refused to cooperate, and remained a tangled mess. I settled for pulling them into a bun at the base of my neck.
My face, however, would not be so easily managed. Only time would fade the garish, tomato-red rash that the weather and my exertion had brought on, so I focused on wiping off the dried mud from my cheeks and neck.
I’d just started to clean off my tank top when the bathroom door burst open and a group of girls entered, laughing and teasing one another. I knew who they were; I had classes with three of them, and one sat right next to me in Bio. The fourth girl had been my unwilling partner on an English assignment last year. I’d wound up doing all of the work while she took most of the credit.
As usual, none of the girls even acknowledged my presence. Instead, they rudely positioned themselves in front of the mirror as if I wasn’t even there, forcing me back up against the wall. Totally oblivious, they continued laughing and talking.
“…So I told him, ‘If I text you and you take five hours to respond again, I’m deleting your number’,” my blonde English partner told the others. “And he’s all, ‘I did text you right back…must be something wrong with your phone.’ He’s such a liar, right? I mean, I got all y’alls texts just fine yesterday…”
The girls vehemently agreed that this person was indeed a liar, and she was way too good for him anyway. They continued gabbing and preening in front of the mirror…fixing one another’s hair and applying makeup their mothers didn’t know they wore. I just stood there and fumed.
Silent.
Invisible.
Then my heart started to race, and I clenched my fists. I was furious. It was one thing to ignore me—that was fine. I was used to that. But to act like I didn’t even exist…as if I didn’t even have the right to be here…
I hated confrontation with a passion and had always tried to avoid it. Always. But right now I didn’t know who I was more mad at—the selfish girls who had shoved me aside like a worthless piece of trash, or myself, for not having the courage to stand up to them.
I contemplated my options. I could just wait it out…wait until they left and then take my spot back. But they looked like they could admire themselves for hours, and I didn’t have the time.
Or, I could just leave and finish up at the other bathroom across the building…
No. I couldn’t wait, and I didn’t want to leave. I was here first. I wanted them to leave. Now!
Slowly, I started to form a plan. True, it was a long shot. But it could work. Maybe. I’d done something like it before at home—sorta. It wasn’t exactly nice, but it was a lot nicer than what I really wanted to do right now.
The fact that I was the only other person in the bathroom besides the four girls concerned me a little, but not that much. They’d never figure it out.
At least, I hoped not.
I’d never used my abilities to affect another person before, except maybe to help my dad. And I’d never risked doing my weird stuff out in the open like this. But I was so angry right now, I didn’t care. Besides, this was such a small thing. Nothing, really.
I closed my eyes and tuned out their mindless chatter, focusing on what I wanted to have happen. When I heard their surprised gasps a second later, I opened my eyes again.
The bathroom was pitch black.
“Eeek! Did the power go out?” one of them squealed.
“I guess so. Come on, let’s go,” urged another.
“Wait, give it a second—I’m sure it’ll come right back on,” said a third voice.
“No, let’s go, it’s really dark in here—I can’t see anything,” the first voice whined.
“I’m not done with my makeup yet…”
“We’ll just use the other bathroom.”
“The light sucks in there, and the mirror is too small…”
Are they kidding me right now!?
This time I didn’t even have to think about it. My annoyance manifested itself instantly, and the bell inside the bathroom blared, sending the girls scrambling to find the door.
“Crap, I thought we had a few more minutes to go,” one of them muttered on her way out.
You’re right about that, sister. I grinned to myself. That bell’s for you—just you.
…At least, I hoped I’d managed to confine the sound to just the bathroom.
The moment the door closed behind them, I waved my hand and the lights flashed back on. I didn’t much worry about what the girls would think when they got to the hallway and realized no one else was there. At least they were gone.
I resumed my rightful position in front of the mirror and continued cleaning myself off. A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 2. Invitation
The twilight sky was a majestic swirl of purples and oranges as I made my way home from school. The rain from earlier had come and gone, and left the air with a clean sense of renewal in the way that only a good rain could.
I hadn’t meant to stay so late. Since I had finished all my homework early, I’d let myself get lost in one of those silly romance novels, where the perfect guy falls in love with the less-than-perfect heroine, despite all the odds. Cheesy and totally unrealistic…but it helped to take my mind off things for a while. It was only when the librarian signaled that they were closing for the day that I realized it was almost six o’clock. Dad would certainly be wondering where I was.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and goose bumps prickled my arms. I froze.
Someone was watching me…following me. I could feel it. And this wasn’t the first time I’d had this weird sensation today.
I glanced around, but saw no one. The road was totally empty, and there wasn’t even a house in sight for several hundred yards.
Paranoid much, Calista?
I shrugged it off and walked faster. Not because I was afraid, but because I didn’t want Dad to worry, and I didn’t want him to have to wait too long for supper. My belly was twisting into an uncomfortable knot, but I knew it wasn’t from hunger. It was due to something else—a strange uneasiness I’d been unable to shake since this morning after the bathroom incident.
At first, I’d been pleased with my success. But amusement had quickly turned to guilt. I started to feel really bad about what I had done, and I worried it would somehow all blow up in my face. I had been foolish and reckless. Deep down I knew that. The last thing Dad and I needed were more problems.
And if people found out what I could do, it would be a problem. A huge problem. Of this I was more than certain.
Once, I had gotten on the computer and researched other people who could do some of the things I could. They called themselves ‘psychics’, and ‘telekinetic’. And I came across an article that told of a guy who was offering one million dollars to anyone who would go on his TV show and prove to the world that they really did have these abilities they claimed to have…that they could actually do that stuff. Stuff I could do easily.
One million dollars.
My heart had soared and my eyes filled with tears. Finally, I could help us. I could save us. Dad wouldn’t ever have to work again. We could live in a place with real heating and air-conditioning. Dad could have his own bed in his own bedroom. We could have fresh meat on the dinner table every night.
But then I noticed the offer was almost twenty years old. And so far, no one had claimed the prize.
No one.
Harsh reality had shattered my delirium. I would make the news. Probably worldwide. Everyone would know who I was and that I was different. And being the on
ly person who’d ever been able to actually prove I had these strange abilities, I’d probably be taken away by scientists and studied like a lab rat. They’d most likely run tests on me and keep me locked away like some sort of circus freak. My father would be all alone, burdened with the knowledge that his only daughter was officially a weird mutant, and we would be forever stigmatized.
It wasn’t worth it.
I had just turned onto the gravel road leading to my shack, when suddenly she appeared from out of nowhere—a slender girl with rich ebony locks—blocking my path.
“Ooh!” Startled, I jumped back and quickly scanned the area. Where had she come from? And how could I not have seen her approach?
“Hello,” she murmured with a hint of a smile.
I stood and stared; she was by far the most stunning girl I’d ever laid eyes on. Suddenly I felt like a frumpy, worthless clown. This girl was perfect, with her clear ice-blue eyes, gorgeous features and flawless skin. And her black leather pants and thigh-high boots made her look like a supermodel-slash-action movie starlet. What in the world was she doing here?
“You’re Calista,” she stated.
I nodded, flustered … flattered. How did she know my name?
She paused a long moment. “Do you know how to speak?” She arched an eyebrow and smirked.
I pushed up my glasses and took a step back. Something about this girl made me uneasy. Like…she was too perfect.
“H-h-how do you know who I am?” I stammered. Crap! I hated it when I did that. It only happened when I was really nervous. But why would this girl make me so nervous?
Then I realized…I was feeling nothing from her. No emotions at all. Something wasn’t right.
Her full lips widened into a knowing smile. She held out her manicured hand, and I took another step back, my heart racing.
“Don’t be so scared little girl. Take this—” She winked, and her white teeth sparkled. In her hand she held something that looked like a letter of some sort.