“Where’s your family?”
“My parents are at work. My brothers are in college. I usually only see them on weekends.”
“Where do your parents work?”
“My mom works for a travel agency that does educational tours for high school students. My father’s a police officer.” Taylor turned on the lights and led me to the kitchen. “Want some juice or something?”
“No thanks.”
“Go ahead and sit down.”
I sat down at the kitchen bar while she looked inside the fridge.
I put my hand over my right eye, which was fluttering like a moth’s wing.
“How about some lemonade?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She poured us both a glass then sat down next to me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you blink like that?”
I flushed. “I have Tourette’s syndrome.”
“Tourette’s syndrome? You mean, like those people who shout out swear words for no reason?”
“That’s Tourette’s, but I don’t do that. I do other things.”
“Like blinking?”
“Blinking. Sometimes I make gulping noises. Sometimes I make faces.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “No one really knows why. Tourette’s is a neurological thing, so it can affect any part of my body.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
She thought it over. “Is it okay that I’m asking you about this?
I’m not trying to embarrass you. I just thought, if we’re going to be friends, I should know.”
What she said made me happy. If we’re going to be friends . . .
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
Taylor stood. “Let’s sit in the family room. You can bring your drink.” We walked into the next room, then sat down next to each other on the sofa. I took a drink of lemonade and puckered. “Wow.
That’s sour.”
“My mom must have made it. She makes it really tart.” Taylor took a sip. “Yep, Mom.”
I set down my glass.
“So,” she said, lacing her fingers together, “are you going to tell me what you did to those boys?”
“You said you’d tell me your secret first.”
Taylor smiled nervously. “I know I did, it’s just . . .” She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes. “Please. I promise I’ll tell you. It’s just easier if you go first.”
There was something about Taylor that made me feel like I could trust her. “Okay,” I said. “What did you see?”
“I heard a loud zap. Then I saw Jack and his friends rolling on the ground like they had been tased.”
I shook my head. “That’s pretty much what happened.”
“How did you tase them?”
As I thought over how much I wanted to share, Taylor said, “My dad has a Taser. He also has a stun gun. He showed me how they work.”
I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. My mother had made me promise to never tell anyone about my electricity, but we had never talked about what to do if someone already knew. Or at least thought they did. “I don’t know if I should say,” I said.
Taylor leaned closer and touched my arm. “Michael, I understand.
I really do. I’ve never told anyone my secret. But I’m tired of keeping this to myself. Aren’t you?” Her eyes were wide with sincerity.
I slowly nodded. Ostin was the only person I’d ever told and telling him had been an incredible relief—like a hundred pounds falling off my shoulders. I slowly breathed out. “You know when people rub their feet on the carpet and build up electricity, then touch someone to shock them?”
“Static electricity.”
“Right. When I was little I would touch people and it would shock them like that. Except I didn’t have to be on carpet. I could be on anything, and I didn’t have to rub my feet. Only the shock was much worse. Sometimes people screamed. It got so bad that my mom made me wear rubber gloves. As I got older, it got more powerful. What I did to those boys was nothing compared to what I could have done.”
Taylor set down her lemonade. “So you can control it?”
“Mostly. Sometimes it’s hard.”
“What does it feel like when you shock?”
“To me or them?”
She grinned. “You. I can guess how it feels to them.”
“It’s like a sneeze. It just kind of builds up, then blows.”
“Can you do it more than once?”
“Yes. But I can only do it so many times before I start to lose energy. It takes a few minutes to build it up again.”
“Do you have to touch someone to shock them?”
“Yes. Unless they’re touching metal, like Cody was today.”
She nodded. “That was actually pretty cool. Do you ever shock yourself?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. Electric eels don’t shock themselves.” I took another small sip of the lemonade and puckered.
“You don’t have to drink it,” Taylor said. “I won’t be offended or anything.”
“It’s okay.” I set the glass down. “Your turn. What did you do to Poulsen?”
A wide smile crossed her lips. “I rebooted him.”
“You what?”
“You know, like rebooting a computer. I reboot people. I think it’s an electric thing, too. The brain is just a bunch of electrical signals. I can somehow scramble them.”
“That’s weird.”
“You’re calling me weird?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not saying you’re weird.”
“Well, I am. And so are you. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world like us.”
“Unless they’re hiding it like us. I mean, I sat next to you in class and I never knew.”
“That’s true.”
“When did you first notice that you were different?” I asked.
“I think I was around seven. I was lying in bed one night under the covers when I noticed that there was a bluish-greenish glow coming from my body.”
“You have a glow?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s just faint. You can only see it in the dark and if you look closely.”
“I glow, too,” I said. Hearing that she had the same glow made me feel good—like I wasn’t so different. Or alone.
“That summer I was playing wizard with some friends and I cast a spell, only they fell to the ground and started to cry. At first I thought they were just pretending. But they weren’t. They couldn’t remember what they were doing.”
“That’s why Poulsen couldn’t remember what he was doing,” I said.
She smiled. “Yeah. It comes in handy sometimes.”
“Does it hurt the person you reboot?”
She seemed embarrassed. “I don’t know. It’s not like I do it all the time. Want me to do it to you?”
“No. Do you want me to shock you?”
“No.” She looked at me seriously. “You know, Michael, my parents don’t even know about this. Do you have any idea how good it feels to finally tell someone?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I guess you would.” She lay back into the cushion. “So your parents know?”
“My mother does. My father passed away when I was eight.”
“I’m sorry.” Her expression grew more serious. “So what does your mother think of it?”
“I think it scares her. If she knew I was talking to you she’d be really upset.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” Taylor said. “I wish I could tell my parents. I’ve tried a few times, but whenever I ask to talk to them they get nervous, like I’m going to tell them I’ve done something wrong. I guess I’m just afraid of how they’ll react.”
“You should tell them,” I said.
“I know. Someday I will.”
Taylor leaned forward and said in a softer but mo
re excited tone,
“There’s something else I can do. Want to see it?”
“Sure.”
She patted the sofa cushion next to her. “Come closer.”
I scooted closer until our bodies nearly touched. I started gulping but stopped myself. “This isn’t going to hurt, right?”
“No.” She leaned toward me until we were touching. “Now think of a number between one and a million.”
“One and a million? Okay.” I thought of the last four digits of my phone number.
“Just keep thinking of the number.” She reached over and took my hand. Suddenly a big smile came across her face. “Think of the number, silly, not me.”
“What, you’re reading my mind?” I asked jokingly. It wouldn’t take a mind reader to know what I was thinking—the most beautiful girl at school was holding my hand. I focused on my number again.
“Three thousand, nine hundred and eight-nine,” she said.
I looked at her in astonishment. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure that it’s part of the same rebooting thing. I mean, it’s all about electricity, right? Our thoughts are just electricity firing, so when I touch you, your thoughts show up in my brain as well—same projector, different screen.”
Her explanation made sense. “So you can really read minds?”
“Yes, but not without touching. If I were to put my forehead against yours I could see even better.”
I wouldn’t mind that, I thought, forgetting that we were still holding hands. A big smile came across her face. I blushed and let go of her hand. “So all you need to do is touch someone?”
She nodded. “I’ve even been able to read people’s minds if they’re touching metal—like the way you shocked Cody.” She leaned back again. “So what do we do now?”
“First, we need to promise never to reveal each other’s power.”
“We already did that,” she said.
“Right. Second, I think we need to stick together.”
She looked at me with a funny expression. I’m glad she wasn’t touching me. After a moment she said. “That’s a good idea. We should start a club.”
“A club? With just the two of us?”
“Unless you know someone else like us.”
“Ostin should be in our club. He could come in handy.”
“Who’s Ostin?”
“He’s my friend. You met him at my locker. He sits in front of me in biology.”
“The know-it-all kid.”
I nodded. “He’s my best friend.”
“Does he have powers?”
“No. But he knows a lot about science and electricity. He’s really smart. Like mad scientist smart. His mother told me when he was only six years old, their DVD player broke. Before his father could take it in for repair, Ostin had taken it apart and fixed it.”
“He’s not too smart socially,” Taylor observed.
“That’s a different kind of smart.”
“But can he keep a secret? Because no one can know about this.”
“He’s kept my secret since I told him.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Almost three years. Besides, who is he going to tell? I’m his only friend.”
Taylor didn’t look completely convinced but she nodded anyway.
“All right, he can be in our club.”
“We’ll need to come up with a name,” I said. “Every club has a name.”
“You’re right. How about . . . the Power Team.”
I frowned. “No, too boring. How about, the Electric Eels.”
“Yuck,” she said. “Have you ever seen one of those? They look like fat snakes with acne. Besides, shocking people is your thing. You could call yourself Eel Man.”
I didn’t really care for the name, though I did like that she re-ferred to me as a man. “And you could call yourself the Human Reset Button.”
She shook her head. “Let’s just stick with our real names.”
“Okay. Besides, we don’t have to come up with something right now. Ostin’s good at this kind of thing. He’ll have some good ideas.”
We sat a moment in silence.
Taylor stood. “Would you like some more lemonade?”
“No, I’m good.”
She looked at the clock above the television set and groaned. “My mom will be home in another half hour. You better go. My parents are kind of strict. I’m not allowed to have boys over when they’re not here.”
I stood. “I need to get home anyway.”
She walked me to the door. “Thanks for coming over.”
“You’re welcome. When should we get together again?” I tried not to sound too eager. “For our club.”
“When’s good for you?”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“I can’t, there’s a basketball game. Aren’t you going?”
“Right. I forgot.” The truth was, I hadn’t ever gone to a school game.
“How could you forget? It’s the regional championship.”
“I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”
“How about Saturday?”
“Saturday’s good during the day. But at night my mom and I are going to dinner for my birthday.”
“Saturday’s your birthday?”
I nodded. “But we’re really celebrating on Monday, since my mom has to work all day Saturday.”
Taylor said, “My birthday is Sunday.”
“Really? That’s a coincidence.”
Her brow furrowed. “Maybe it’s not. We were born on nearly the same day and we both have electrical powers. Think about it. Maybe it had something to do with the stars being in alignment or something.”
It may sound strange, but I had never considered why I had electrical powers any more than I had wondered about where my Tourette’s had come from. “If that’s the case then there would be tens of thousands of people like us,” I said.
Taylor shrugged. “Maybe there are.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Or we would have at least heard of a few of them. I mean, someone pops a zit and it ends up on the Internet.”
“You’re right.” She thought some more. “Were you born here?”
I shook my head. “I was born in Pasadena, California. How about you?”
“I don’t know. I was adopted.”
Now I understood why Taylor looked so different from the rest of her family. “So, we’ll get together Saturday?” I asked.
“Sure. But first I need to make sure my parents don’t have plans.
They’ve been on my back lately for being gone too much. I’ll let you know.”
“Great.”
She opened the door for me. “Bye, Michael.”
“See ya, Taylor. Thanks for the lemonade.”
“You’re welcome. Talk to you tomorrow.”
After she shut the door I took off running. I had just formed an exclusive club with Taylor Ridley. I didn’t need to run. I could have floated the whole way home.
Chapter Eight
The Multimeter
As soon as I got inside the apartment building I knocked on Ostin’s door. He opened, his face bent in disapproval. “So how’s the cheerleader?” he asked snidely.
“I know you’re mad you got left out.”
“What did you do, make out?”
“Shut up, Ostin. Do you want to come over or not?”
It took him two seconds to get over it. “Yeah, wait.” He ran back into his apartment, then returned carrying a small yellow and black device and a notepad and pen. “Let’s start our tests.”
As he was shutting his door, Ostin’s mom shouted, “Where you going, Ostin?”
“I’m going to Michael’s.”
“Be careful,” she said.
Ostin looked at me and shrugged. His mom was a little protective. Actually she was a lot protective. I’m surprised she didn’t make him wear a helmet to clogging.
“We’re having dinne
r soon. Ask Michael if he wants to eat with us.”
He looked at me. “Want to eat with us? We’re having fish sticks.”
“No thanks.” I hate fish sticks.
He turned back. “He’s not going to eat with us.”
“Dinner will be ready by seven. Don’t be late.”
“Okay.”
He shut his door while I walked down the hall and unlocked my apartment. As soon as we were inside, Ostin opened his notebook and clicked his pen. “All right,” he said, using the tone of voice he used when he was doing something scientific. “First things first. Today is Thursday, the fourteenth of April. How are you feeling?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“I want our experiment to be accurate, so try to be as specific as possible. Are you feeling more or less electric than usual?”
“I don’t ever feel electric,” I said.
“Okay. Usual,” he said, scribbling in his notebook. “Weather is fair.
I checked the barometer earlier and it’s one thousand seventeen mil-libars and humidity is negligible.” He brought the multimeter over to me, which looked a little like a fat calculator with cables attached.
“Okay, clamp these on your fingers.”
I looked at the clamps. “I’m not going to put those on my fingers.
They’re sharp.”
“Do you want this to be accurate or not?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay.” I clamped the copper leads around my fingers. They bit into my skin.
“Now, don’t do anything until I tell you.”
“Just hurry. These things hurt.”
“When I say ‘go’ I want you to pulse with all your power. Five, four, three, two . . . wait.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. The screen on this thing just went blank.” He pushed some buttons. “Okay. Four, three, two, one, go!”
I surged as hard as I could. The snap and crackle of electricity filled the room and there was a spark from my fingers to the clamps.
“Holy moley,” Ostin said. He set down the multimeter and began writing in his notebook. “You produced eight hundred and sixty-four volts.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“Dude, that’s more than a full-grown electric eel. You could paralyze a crocodile with that.” His eyes narrowed. “You could kill someone.”
Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25 Page 4