Static

by Witt, L. A.

  I spent the day doing as close to nothing as I could. Video games when my head didn’t hurt too much, television when it did. My phone was still off, and I logged into my email just long enough to exchange a few messages with Damon about getting together tonight. Besides him, the world outside these walls could go to hell.

  A little after four, though, the doorbell rang.

  I groaned aloud. Some of the local media had been hounding me since my parents went to trial, and ever since the verdict was read yesterday, I’d left my phone turned off specifically to avoid them. Tell me they haven’t found my damned house.

  Expecting to see a reporter peering back, I looked through the peephole. My heart jumped into my throat.

  With trembling fingers, I turned the dead bolt and opened the door. It took a second, but I finally found enough breath to whisper, “Candace.”

  “Hey,” she said quietly.

  “How did . . . how did you find me?” And why are you here?

  She avoided my eyes. “Your address is on some of the papers from the court. They were in my case file.”

  “Oh.”

  For a moment, we stood in silence, just looking at each other.

  “Can, um, can I come in?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” I stood aside. My heart pounded as she walked past me. I shut the door, then faced her. “This is a surprise.”

  “I know.” She tucked a strand of bright purple hair behind her ear. “I tried calling, but you weren’t answering.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ve had my phone turned off. To avoid . . .” The media. Who wanted to talk to me. About putting our parents in jail. I gestured down the hall. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “I could go for a cup of coffee, though. Come on.” I led her into the kitchen. The truth was, I didn’t need coffee. Now that she was here, I was too jittery for caffeine, but my hands were going to start shaking if I didn’t keep them busy.

  “I’m not catching you at a bad time, am I?” she asked.

  “No, of course not.” Back to her, unable to look her in the eye, I pulled a cup down and set it on the counter. “How are you holding up? With . . . Mom and Gary . . .”

  “I’m okay. That’s actually why I’m here.”

  I gulped. That was what I was afraid of, and the memory of her breaking down in the courtroom gave me chills. Jesus, she must hate me. Without turning around, focusing as much as I could on keeping my voice even and pouring the coffee without spilling it, I said, “I’m sorry, Candace. I really am. I . . . had to. Trust me, it was—”

  “I came here to thank you.”

  The coffeepot almost crashed to the counter.

  It wasn’t the words, though. It was the voice.

  No, I was imagining it.

  I set the coffeepot down so I wouldn’t drop it, but I still didn’t face Candace. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I came here to thank you.”

  The voice. The male voice.

  Slowly, I turned around. My lips parted and my breath froze in my lungs. With a shaking hand, I grabbed the counter for support.

  Long, unruly hair fell in ink-black tendrils over his shoulders, which filled out his rock band T-shirt a little more than before. His features shared a youthful roundness with his female form, but with a dusting of stubble along his jaw and a slightly heavier bone structure. His eyes were the same blue, and his eyebrows were raised as he waited for my reaction.

  “I thought . . .” I coughed, trying to get my lungs and mouth to function. “I thought you were static.”

  He chuckled. “So did Mom and Gary. And now I’m not under their thumbs anymore.”

  “But . . . in the courtroom . . .” I shook my head. “You . . .”

  “Dude, that was relief. You have no fucking idea.”

  “I . . .” Disbelief kept me tongue-tied for a moment. I finally managed to whisper, “How long have you known?”

  “Since I was nine.”

  “And you hid it from them? All these years?”

  He nodded. “I told them I couldn’t shift. And I made them think I was drinking the Kool-Aid at that crazy church, so they believed me and left me alone.” He grimaced. “I went to a bunch of those stupid protests, too. You don’t hate me, do you?”

  “What? No. God, no, I don’t hate you.” I crossed the kitchen and put my arms around him. As he hugged me back, I closed my eyes. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Mom and Gary wanted me to.”

  I laughed softly. “And since when have you ever done what you’re told?”

  “Exactly.” He laughed, too, but then fell silent. After a moment, he sniffed sharply. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

  The sound of my brother saying my real name was overwhelming, and I fought to keep my composure. When I was sure my voice wouldn’t crack, I said, “You have no reason to be sorry. You were smart to hide what you were from them.”

  “I know, but I—”

  “What’s your name?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “Sam.”

  I smiled. Our father’s name.

  “Not very original, is it?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t have to be.” I pulled back and grinned at him. “I think Dad would be proud.”

  “And Mom would be pissed.”

  I laughed. “That she would. Come on, have a seat.” I gestured toward the living room. “Let’s talk.”

  Once we’d gotten situated on the sofa, I said, “This is definitely a surprise. I was sure you were static.”

  “Kind of nice not to have to hide it anymore,” he said.

  “I’m sure. So, do you go male or female most of the time?”

  “Male. I kind of go whichever way, but I like being a guy. I don’t know if it’s because I had to be a girl around Mom and Gary all the time or what.”

  “That could be. When you get shoehorned into one form, it makes you want to be the other.” I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, I understand.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. I guess I’ll figure it out. Most of the time, when Mom and Gary weren’t around, I dressed so people couldn’t tell one way or the other anyway. Is that weird?”

  “No, it’s not weird.” I paused. “Does anyone else know?”

  “Well, my girlfriend knows.”

  I blinked. “You . . . have a girlfriend?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah. She’s great. She’s totally cool with me being a shifter.” He laughed quietly. “Kind of funny, actually. We were friends as girls for a long time, and when I came out to her as a shifter, I started spending more time around her as a boy. Then it just . . .” He shrugged. “Just happened, I guess.”

  “Wow.” I envied him. I’d struggled so hard with depression and the desire to kill myself, I didn’t even get around to dating until college. “Okay, this is probably way too personal, but being the responsible older brother, I have to ask.” I raised an eyebrow. “You and your girlfriend, you’re . . . being careful, right?”

  “Are you insane?” He smirked. “Can you imagine if Mom and Gary found out their daughter had knocked up some chick?”

  I laughed. “Jesus, they’d shit kitten-shaped bricks. They freaked out enough when they found out I have a boyfriend.”

  “You do? Oh, that’s right. I remember you mentioning that when we were in the diner with Mom.”

  I nodded, my humor fading a little. Watching my fingers tap on the armrest, I said, “Yeah, I’ve been seeing someone the last couple of years. We’re kind of sorting things out right now. With me being a shifter and all. And . . . male.”

  “He didn’t know?”

  “No.” I sighed. “I was afraid to tell him, kept putting it off, and . . .” I gestured at myself. “As it always does, the truth came out on its own.” I looked at Sam for a moment. “How did you keep it from Mom and Gary?”

  “I don’t even know. I probably wouldn’t have been as careful if I hadn’t seen what you went through . . .”

 
; “Well, at least it helped someone. Does anyone else know?”

  “A few friends at school. The whole group is pretty cool with shifters, and the ones who know about me keep it on the down low.”

  “Wow. That’s—that’s great.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s funny, there’s another guy in the group who’s known he was a shifter since first grade. Totally out, doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks. You should’ve seen the way people flipped out when he got the male lead in the school play last semester, and then got the female lead this semester.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, everyone thought shifting gave him an unfair advantage.” Sam shrugged. “The drama teacher said if he was good enough for the female lead and good enough for the male lead, then tough shit.”

  “I need to meet this teacher. He sounds awesome. Do your foster parents know?”

  “Tammy does. I haven’t told Bill yet, but he’s pretty chill, so . . .”

  “And she’s okay with it?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, she’s cool with it.”

  “How is it, the whole foster care thing?”

  He played with a tear in his jeans. “I don’t know; it’s okay. At least I can keep going to my high school for now.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Any idea how long you’ll be there?”

  “Don’t know. The social worker said they’re making arrangements or something with Aunt Beverly and Uncle Ray.”

  “How do you feel about living with them?”

  He focused a little harder on tugging the fringe at the edge of the tear. “They’re nice and all, but I really don’t want to go to California.” He looked at me. “All my friends are here. Lisa’s here. My girlfriend, I mean.”

  I stared at the cushion between us for a long moment. “You know, there’s no guarantee it would work, but legally, I can petition for custody.”

  His eyes widened. “You can?”

  I nodded. “I don’t know if they’ll grant it. History of ‘issues’ and all. But . . .” I hesitated. “But I can petition for it. Would you be okay with living with me?”

  “Yeah, definitely. I’d rather live with you than go to California.”

  I smiled. “Well, I can give it a try. We’ll see what happens.”

  “Awesome.” Sam snickered. “God, Mom will be pissed if she finds out.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that she will.”

  We both fell quiet for a minute or two. I ran through a mental list of all the things I’d need to do in order to get custody of Sam. Who knew if I could even afford to, but all of that could be dealt with later.

  “So, are you going to get the implant thing out?” he asked out of the blue.

  I exhaled. “I’d like to. I don’t know how the hell I’ll pay for it, though.”

  “I thought the judge was going to have Mom and Gary or the pastor pay for it.”

  “Yeah, and that looks great on paper, but getting the money out of them?” I shook my head. “Not so much.”

  “That sucks,” he said. “Oh, and Gary tried to make me get it, too.”

  My blood ran cold. “I thought they didn’t know you were a shifter.”

  “They didn’t.” He fidgeted, probably masking a shudder. “But since I had the gene, Gary tried to convince Mom I should get the implant anyway. In case I just hadn’t figured out how to shift or something.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t go along with it.”

  “She thought it was too dangerous to do just in case.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Nice to know she was aware of the risks, then.”

  “She was.” Sam exhaled hard. “You should have heard them fighting about it. He finally convinced her God would take care of you, and if it killed you, at least you’d die static.”

  My stomach turned. I’d known Gary felt that way, but I never realized my mother believed it. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “They really buy this stuff. They think they’re doing God’s work.” He rolled his eyes. “I would’ve thought if God wanted us all to be static, He’d have made us that way.”

  “Oh, but why do that when there’s someone like Gary to take care of it?”

  “Ugh. It is so nice to be away from that shit.”

  “I know the feeling, believe me.”

  “And at least Tammy and Bill’s church isn’t crazy.”

  “How is it?”

  “Different.” Sam shrugged. “It’s kind of weird to get through a sermon without breaking out in a sweat and wanting to kill myself.”

  My breath caught. “Sam, you haven’t actually wanted to kill yourself, have you?”

  “Not in church,” he said with a completely straight face. “I was too afraid I’d survive and have to face Mom and Gary after making a scene.” We locked eyes, then both snorted with laughter.

  “Okay, come on, seriously,” I said finally. “You haven’t, have you?”

  He shrugged again. “I’ve gotten depressed a few times, but no.”

  “Well, you’re going to catch hell for this in your life. It’s just part of being a shifter. So if you ever need to talk, about this or anything else, call me.”

  “Assuming your phone is on, right?”

  “Yes, assuming it’s on. In fact . . .” I picked my phone up off the end table and pressed the power button. “There. Now it’s on. Don’t you dare leave without giving me your number.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Okay, enough about all that depressing shit,” I said. “I haven’t talked to you in three years. Tell me what else you’ve been up to.”

  As Sam told me about the interests and hobbies he’d taken up over the last few years, this whole situation played out in the back of my mind. There was a possibility I would be static for the rest of my life. The implant could still kill me or cripple me. But at least my sister was out from under my parents’ roof and no longer at risk of getting the same procedure that had turned my world on its ass.

  In its own perverse way, maybe this was all worth it.

  When I got to Alex’s that night, he wasn’t alone, but his mood was brighter than I’d expected. He was sitting on the couch with a teenager I didn’t recognize, the remains of a pizza on the coffee table, and a Coke in his hand.

  “Hey.” He grinned when I walked into the living room. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

  “So I see.”

  “Damon, this is Sam.” Alex beamed. “My brother.”

  My eyes flicked back and forth between them. “Your . . .”

  “Formerly known as Candace,” Alex said.

  I looked at Sam, and the penny dropped. “You’re a shifter, too?”

  “Yep, I am.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I said as we shook hands.

  “We’ve just been doing some catching up,” Alex said. “Amazing how much you miss when you don’t see someone for three years.” The comment didn’t sound nearly as bitter or melancholy as I would have expected. In fact, as he smiled at his brother, I couldn’t help thinking that Alex looked and sounded more relaxed than I’d seen him in a long time. More than I’d ever seen him in his male form, for that matter.

  “You off work early or something?” He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Oh, holy crap, it’s almost seven already? When did that happen?”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “Damn, it is? I should get home.” He stood.

  “Do you need a lift?” I asked.

  “No, no, it’s okay. There’s a bus that picks up a block or so from here.”

  “A bus?” I said. “Come on, kid, we can drive you. It’s not a big deal.”

  Sam glanced at Alex, then at me. “Are you sure?”

  “You don’t mind?” Alex asked me.

  “No, not at all.”

  Sam smiled. “Cool, thanks.”

  Alex put what was left of the pizza in the refrigerator. Then the three of us got in my car, and I drove over to Sam�
�s foster home. It wasn’t far from Alex’s place. Maybe ten minutes, if that. That was encouraging; maybe the two of them could spend more time together since they didn’t live so far apart.

  Sam invited us in to meet his foster mother. As soon as we walked into the kitchen, I recognized her from the trial. The memory of Sam collapsing in tears against her still made me shiver, especially recalling how visibly it had affected Alex, but we both must have misread Sam’s emotions.

  Sam’s foster mother extended her hand to Alex. “I’m Tammy. You must be Alex?”

  He nodded as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “All good things, I hope?” There was a note of caution in the joke.

  “From Sam? Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I think you’re the only one in the family he doesn’t speak ill of.”

  Alex laughed halfheartedly. “If you knew the family, you’d understand.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She looked at me. “And you are . . .?”

  “Damon.” I look at Alex, unsure of how to elaborate about who exactly I was.

  “My partner,” Alex said.

  “Oh, right.” She shook my hand. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

  After a bit of small talk, Sam needed to get to his homework, so Alex and I again shook hands with Tammy. Then Alex hugged Sam before making doubly sure they both had each other’s phone numbers.

  Alex and I took off, and we swung into a fast-food place on the way home. He’d had pizza with Sam earlier, but I was ready to chew off my own arm. Once I’d eaten, we went back to his place, grabbed a couple of beers, and lounged on the couch.

  “You going to be able to see Sam now?” I asked. “More regularly, at least?”

  “I hope so. His foster parents obviously don’t have a problem with me, and he said he wants to see me more.” Alex smiled. “And it’s not like they have to worry about keeping him out of trouble. You know the kid’s in Honors Society and three AP classes?”

  “Really?”

  Alex nodded. “Guess being a bookworm runs in the family.”

  “Apparently it does.”

  “He’s a good kid. Has his head screwed on pretty straight. I’m proud of him.”

  “As well you should be.” I paused. “Okay, so, that brings up another question. When I’m talking about someone who’s a shifter, in general, how do I know whether to call them he or she?”