The Gifted

by C. C. Lynch

  My father worked with a man who was gifted like us and told him about the college he had gone to. The man brought my parents and me to Intervael Academy where I gripped onto my them so tightly I thought for sure I was going to squeeze the life out of them. It did not matter how old I was, if society thought I was ready to begin my journey as an adult because I never wanted to leave my parents side. As I watched the car drive away, leaving me to a place where I knew nobody, I removed all the lights from the lamps on the Intervael Academy walkway and sent them to dance alongside the car before finding their way back to their home.

  13

  OVOLINA

  “Ovolina, please finish your English assignment. I really do not want to have to call your mother.” Deva, my au pair and home tutor, kept her face stern but her eyes were tired. I had exhausted her already and it was not even ten in the morning.

  “I think it’s cute that you think she will answer.” I raised a brow and pushed myself away from the table, keeping my combatant gaze on Deva.

  “Why can’t you be like Frankie?” She sighed in defeat.

  “I’m sorry I don’t keep myself locked in my room and only shower when reminded to do so.” I crossed my arms and tossed my freshly dyed curls behind my shoulder. “Hygiene and social abilities are such a nuisance.”

  Deva’s eyes started watering and for a moment I felt bad, but it was quickly replaced with a sense of accomplishment. She felt worse than I did and that was all I wanted.

  Her shoulders slacked and a sorrowful glance preceded her words. “I am sorry that you miss your parents. They should be home in a week.”

  My mother and father were plastic surgeons and hardly ever made an appearance in our Californian mansion. My father was devoid of any supernatural abilities, but my mother gave hers to Frankie and I. Gifted au pairs were hired to homeschool and care for my brother and me since we were too young to hold a pencil.

  When our parents would make an appearance, we were given expensive gifts and distracted, but unconditional, love. Deva was our seventh au pair and had big shoes to fill. Blanche made her way into my heart quickly and left a gash when she had to return home and follow her dreams. She was caring, loving, and knew exactly how to work with me. At one point I had futilely begged for her to adopt me. Deva walked into the house as Blanche walked out and I instantly loathed the sight of the woman who was taking the place of the first woman who showed me consistent love.

  Ignoring Deva’s statement about my parents, I smiled. “I’m taking a break and going to go for a walk downtown.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said as she frantically grabbed her purse to keep up with me.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s Sausalito not the Bronx. I’ll be okay.” The truth was that she was scared of my actions, not the possibility that there were any criminals I would encounter.

  “I want to grab a coffee anyhow,” she smiled sweetly.

  A knock at the door interrupted the churlish quips I was readying. I opened it swiftly to find an exceptionally well dressed woman with her hair perfectly kempt like a doll.

  “Yes?” I inquired roughly as Deva ran to my side to greet the stranger.

  She looked down her nose upon me and kept her lips tight as she spoke. “Good morning. I am Catherine Hughes and I was hoping to speak to your parents.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” I asked haughtily.

  She looked over to Deva and put her hand out as a greeting. “I have been informed that Mr. and Mrs. Remington will arrive in less than fifteen minutes. May I please come in while I await their arrival?” It was a statement more than a request, as she pushed her way through the door and removed her coat, handing it to Deva.

  “I don’t know who you have been talking to Cathy,” I crossed my arms, but you clearly have the wrong day.”

  “Oh, Ovolina,” she smirked, “I am never misinformed.”

  The way that she held herself told me that I could not play the same games with her as I did with my au pairs. I could pick up that she had some sort of ability, but my radar was thrown off by her intimidating manner.

  Deva scurried to put Catherine’s Burberry coat into the closet. “May I get you a beverage Ms. Hughes?”

  “I’ll have tonic water with a lime,” Catherine ordered.

  I sat across the counter from the woman and stared at her, trying to figure out who exactly was in our house.

  Catherine sipped her water delicately and met my gaze. “My dear, are you always so impertinent?” It was a rhetorical question that I refused to answer. “What would Blanche think of your behavior?” She clucked her tongue against her teeth and pulled out a leather-bound notepad. As she scribbled down notes she kept her eyes down and lightly sighed. “If you are going to continue staring then I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room.”

  “This is my house,” I snarled.

  She put her pen down abruptly and cocked her head. “This residence belongs to your parents. As they left Miss Deva in charge, I believe it is actually more her home than yours.” Her eyes squinted briefly. “What a pity.”

  The hum of a limousine engine whirred outside. I stood up abruptly and ran to the window. Sure enough, my parents were getting out of the car and making their way to the front door.

  “What the heck?” I spoke under my breath. They never returned home early when they went away and surely would have called before strolling up to the house.

  Catherine stood up from her seat and straightened out her suit.

  My parents walked through the front door, my father speaking harshly to whomever was on the receiving end. My mom smiled at me before her eyes slid to Catherine and her bag dropped from her arm at the same instance her mouth did.

  “Hello, Bridgett,” Catherine’s face was stern and her posture was guarded.

  My mother stammered, finding her breath. “Hi Cate.” My mother looked over to me nervously. “Ovolina,” she sounded somehow winded, “this is your Aunt Catherine.”

  “Aunt?” I sputtered loudly.

  “Yes,” she nodded, looking as shocked as I did. She glanced to my father who had slowed down his conversation, finally acknowledging the guest in the house. “William,” my mother interrupted, “this is my sister Catherine.”

  My father excused himself from the phone call and swiftly went to shake my aunt’s hand. “I apologize for the rude introduction, that was a business call. Can we get you anything?”

  “Some hors d’oeuvres would be lovely,” she smiled.

  She watched as my father went into the kitchen and turned to my mother. “It is time for Frankie to come to Ernvlik Academy.”

  “But Cate,” my mom began before she was interrupted.

  “We are well aware of his emotional issues, but feel that this would be the best place for him. He would thrive in the environment we have prepared for him and are willing to make whatever changes necessary to keep him happy.” My aunt sat down and picked up her pen, motioning for my mother to take a seat.

  “I’ll have to talk to Frankie about it,” my mother looked lost in thought.

  “If it is his happiness you are worried about, I assure you that it will be greater at the academy than it is here.” She paused and stared at my mother. “Please, go get your son and bring him out here.”

  I stood across the room listening to my mother, brother, and aunt discussing Frankie attending this academy like I did not even exist. My brother listened patiently while the school was explained to him. Finally, he asked, “will Ovolina be there?”

  Catherine let out an annoyed sigh. “Possibly. She may attend a year from now if she is taught simple manners and can improve her education.” I was about to interrupt, but shut my mouth quickly as my mother looked over to me quickly and shook her head, anticipating my reaction. Catherine smirked. “We will give Ovolina an exam to see if she will be allowed to attend Ernvlik Academy. I fear that she may not meet our standards, academically.”

  “Okay,” my mom nodded as she took all the
information in. She turned to Frankie and took his hand in hers. “If this is what you want, you have my permission to go.”

  My brother started fidgeting, uncomfortable with the prolonged social interaction. “Yes, yes. I can be ready in three weeks.” He stood up and bowed towards our aunt, “good to meet you Catherine.” He then walked away quickly to his room leaving us women alone.

  Catherine stood up and walked over to me. “The exam is rigorous and only those who are exceptionally bright will pass it. I don’t anticipate your arrival, though if you surprise me I shall see you in a year.” She turned to my mother. “Please have Deva fetch my coat.”

  Deva scurried in quickly with the jacket in her hands. “Bridgett, I will see you in three weeks.” She nodded before leaving hastily.

  I stared at my mother, waiting for her to say something; anything about the aunt I did not know I had, the strange academy my brother would be going to, or anything at all really.

  The look of hurt and confusion was quickly pushed aside as my mother pulled her shoulders back. “Ovolina, you will complete all your academic assignments before you may have your cell phone or watch television. Weekends will be spent studying, practicing your gift, and learning how to be respectful to authority. Should you break my rules, I will take away every item in your room aside from your bed and two outfits.”

  “Mom,” I began hurt, only to be interrupted.

  Her eyes were cold and hard. “Understood, Ovolina?”

  “Yes,” I sighed in defeat.

  “Then I suggest you get started now,” she said before joining my father in the kitchen.

  The next year was filled with torturous amounts of studying and school work. My mother, whenever I saw her, would emphasize how important it was that I joined my brother to make sure he had a support system at Ernvlik Academy.

  When my Aunt Catherine returned, I greeted her politely and had beverages and appetizers ready. Her smug smile made it apparent that she believed I would not gain entry to the school. I took the exam from her and sat at a table in the same room and began to answer the questions that were clearly meant for an education level much higher than someone who only attended high school classes.

  “I’ll have my colleague look this over and I will let you know the results tonight.” She tucked the exam into her bag and eyed Deva. “What time will my sister return?”

  “Six o’clock tonight, ma’am.” Deva spoke cautiously, questioning her own answer.

  “I will see everyone tonight at seven.” She nodded and left.

  Deva closed the door behind Catherine and glanced at me. “She’s so warm and maternal, I can’t believe she doesn’t visit more often.”

  I gave Deva a limp smile in response to her sarcastic comment. If I did not pass the exam, then I would have let my mother down and Frankie would be alone in a school without any family to help him through his tantrums. That test was my one chance to make my mother proud.

  My mother returned home half an hour early. She came swiftly through the door confirming her catering order, making sure that it would arrive promptly at quarter to seven. Once she ended the call she looked to me and began to form a word, but continued upstairs to change into whatever outfit she would wear for Catherine’s arrival.

  “Ovolina,” she called down from the balcony overlooking our foyer, “please go get the ZD from the wine fridge.”

  I did as she said and helped to get the table ready. My aunt arrived promptly at seven and took a seat at the table. The rest of my family did the same. It was the first time I had seen my parents without their cell phones in their hands for, well, as long as I could remember.

  Catherine’s eyes fell to me, bitterness behind them. She placed an envelope in front of me and without a hint of joy stated, “your results are here.”

  14

  CLAIRE

  They said it started when I was eight, when I first showed signs of my ability. They were wrong.

  I remember how my brain would complete shapes, create order, and solve puzzles automatically. Imaginary lines would drag from one object to another answering any question I could have - how long would it take to get somewhere, the fastest path a Finch could take to get to her nest, what the man on the television did wrong when he tried to swing his bat.

  When I was four my brother, Donny, introduced me to golf. I could see the imaginary lines in my mind connecting the ball to its destination. My body knew the force necessary and would match my eyes, giving in to what they knew was necessary. That was back when I was “cute,” before I had too much energy and before my need to exert force to complete puzzles made my parents realize I was different.

  Donny saved my sanity. He could see what my parents could not. He saw that my mind worked too fast and my body fought to keep up. He saw the frustration rise as my limbs grew restless.

  Seven. That’s how old I was when Donny made me my own obstacle course. He spent weeks creating a rock wall, a game with moving targets operated by strings, and a bowling lane. It wasn’t until he was sixteen and found a fascination with knives that my parents finally realized something was wrong. Not that their teenage son was in love with sharp items, but because their eight-year-old daughter could hit anything with them.

  When Donny went to college I felt hopeless. Before he left, he showed my parents how to make obstacles for me. My mother quit her job so that I could be homeschooled and tried to dote to my gift as best as she could, but she never truly understood me.

  Perfection came when my mind and body worked together to connect the dots and solve problems. Imperfection was everything else in my life. My crooked teeth that needed braces when I was nine, my complexion that rebelled against my wishes when I turned thirteen, and my alien-like body that grew tall and muscular instead of soft and feminine.

  I tried to make friends. I would engage in gossip at the golf range, bask in the wonder of the world while scaling rocks, and try my best at a surly attitude at the pool tables. People do not like different, they shy from it. It’s in our nature to be attracted to just above average. It makes us feel safe, but not particularly outshined.

  I was different.

  Donny found a blog online written by some girl that also had a similar story to mine. She spoke of how lost she was until she had been contacted by an assistant to some professor at an academy that did not exist anywhere except for on her blog. Donny wrote to her, telling her about me. They shared months of emails until some woman rang the doorbell to my house one day.

  “You are exceptional, aren’t you?” She murmured to me, eyes wide with greedy pride.

  “Um, I’ll go get my mom,” I said hesitantly before leaving the strange woman on the stoop of our Arizona home.

  The woman and my mother spoke for what seemed to be hours.

  “She’s great at math,” I heard my mom tell her, “but she struggles with history and literature.”

  “We cater to gifted minds. Claire will never feel happy unless she is able to nurture her certain prodigal ability.” After a strategic pause, she added, “don’t you want Claire to be happy?”

  That was what sealed the deal for my mom. I was suddenly on a plane to Oregon to go to some place called Intervael Academy. Everyone was older than me, but they couldn’t tell that I was only four weeks from turning fifteen because of my size. I was tall for a girl and had the lean muscles of most guys.

  Intervael Academy had a hologram room set up for me. It was to assess my ability before expending too much without knowing what I was capable of. The hologram room was minimal at keeping my interest. It was when I found the training room that my happiness flourished. The room was set up as a course that crossed parkour and martial arts.

  Those running the training room were gifted like me and kept things challenging. They were my first friends aside from Donny. Creas, Jules, and Semper did not possess my gift, but had similar ones. Creas stood tall and dark, and possessed so much strength that I was sure he could move the moon. Semper was fast and fea
rless. He was stealth at the very core. Jules was like a cat - stealthy, quiet, and a true huntress.

  I liked the way Semper said my name. It’s strange how you can hear your name spoken a thousand times, then you hear it come from one person’s mouth and somehow it feels different; like there’s a new meaning to it, but only when spoken by that person.

  It was a silly crush. He was too old and was on the track to become a full-time employee of Intervael Academy. He refused to be called a professor, but he liked the idea of being in charge of the training room. He was nearly seven years older than I, so I just treasured the time I had with him while training and accepted that there would be someday when I would hear someone say “Claire” and it would somehow sound even more amazing than when it was said by Semper.

  Jules was his beta, but had dreams of being an assassin. She would watch movies and think of how she could be like the stars on television. Truthfully, I think she just liked the idea of living a life full of adrenaline, not actually fulfilling the responsibilities of an assassin. A year after I began at Intervael Academy she graduated and would send postcards each month letting us know what amazing place in the world she was visiting. She never told us what she was doing for work, but she seemed happy. When I saw the fronts of the postcards I liked to pretend that she was having some grand adventure living her life freely, not held down by the chains of responsibility that comes with having our particular abilities.

  Creas found his place as both a scout and by Semper’s side running the training room. He made me feel included in everything and worked hard to keep things challenging for me. I was always tempted to ask if he had younger siblings because he was kind, caring, and took me under his wing as his little sister. I had been told by Jules that asking Creas about his family or past was out of the question unless I wanted to be treated like a leper. The threat of being an outcast did not stop me from asking Creas questions, but the fear of bringing up tormenting memories certainly did.