by Alana Siegel
“Are we meeting for the Gifted Program tomorrow night?” Chelsea asked, changing the topic and pretending the drama between Jaime, Rob, and Petey never happened.
“Yup, my house, same as always,” Jamie confirmed. Everyone looked forward to the Gifted Program. It was something we all felt a sense of pride in.
“Great, I’ve been thinking about your theory and my headband. What if someone important owned it before me like Joan of Arc or Harriet Tubman?” Chelsea whispered and looked at us, eagerly. It reminded me of our conversation on the drive to school this morning, and I pictured Harriet Tubman discussing Gifted theory with Buddha and Zeus. I couldn’t hold back my giggle, before Helen jabbed me with her elbow.
Chelsea’s eyes narrowed on me. She asked, “What’s so funny, Liv?”
I sobered up. How did I forget how intimidating Chelsea could be? “It’s just that… the female leaders you mentioned… those are some pretty heavy hitters,” I stuttered.
“Yeah, so?” She had her hands on her hips, and although she stood at barely five feet tall, her firecracker attitude dominated her physical presence.
“Those women seemed to thrive in the face of adversity. I’m not sure invisibility was their Gift,” I said, less confidently.
“My Gift of invisibility is an extension of my personality, even if it's not so obvious to you. I can see things that others think are hidden, like insecurities,” she said, emphasizing the last word as if to point out my own. “They were experts at reading people and situations,” she ridiculed, putting me in my place.
Jaime beamed because she had one more supporter of her theory. She patted Chelsea on the shoulder, and said, “Maybe they did own your jewelry before you, Chelsea. You never know. Let’s discuss it tomorrow night.”
Chelsea nodded. “You can all sign the petition for the City Council when I bring it over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to sneak past Mr. Rowling’s classroom before he asks about my research paper on Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers are not exactly my favorite topic,” Chelsea said very matter-of-factly.
I smelled vanilla as my view of Chelsea flashed a few times before she completely vanished.
“Chelsea…,” Jaime reprimanded. Disappearing to avoid school work fell on Jaime’s list of abusing your Gift for convenience.
“What? It’s for practice,” Chelsea whispered, already a few feet away.
* * * *
Chapter Four: Shopping for a Gift
Midas Mall was shaped like a wide oval with mid-priced department stores on each end. The second level overlooked a food court in the atrium on the ground floor. The large building filled with stores sat in the center of town, which was fitting because it had also become the center of my life.
“Liv, quit shopping. We are here to practice,” Helen reprimanded me. I frowned as she yanked the shirt from my hands and hung it back on the rack. I dragged my feet as I walked away from the clothes. Slews of people hurried through the mall, unaware of their surroundings, making it the ideal place to practice my Gift.
Sighing, I gave in. Helen coached me, keeping me on task and providing criticism and guidance each time I charmed a susceptible shopper. Learning to focus and increase the power of my Gift came easily. It flowed through my body and gathered strength quickly. Sending my Gift in certain directions, focusing on specific people, or covering large areas became simple undertakings. Thanks to her direction, I learned many Gifted tricks to use. Certain I had mastered everything my Gift was capable of, I was unmotivated to practice further. “I’m bored. Let’s take a break and check out that new boutique on the lower level,” I pleaded, reaching up to cradle my Gifted necklace.
Helen put her hands on her hips, insisting, “Practice makes perfect, and the mall is the best that we have. Not everything can be as exciting as that time you gave that poor dorky boy the courage to ask out the cashier.”
“Oh, right! He poured his heart out to her while the line of people behind him stared and she counted his change. It was adorable,” I cooed and placed my hand over my heart.
“It was romantic, but did she say yes?” Helen asked, staring at me accusingly.
“No,” I said and turned to look down at the people on the first floor. “So maybe meddling in his love life wasn’t my best idea. Hopefully some of the courage my Gift gave him stuck with him long enough to try again, however.”
“How about the time you convinced that punk to return the stolen sunglasses?” she asked. Helen and I giggled.
A few weeks ago, during our break at the food court, a man in a black hooded sweatshirt took off running between the tables. Helen screamed, “Olivia! Stop him!” I stood up to get a better view of him.
My Gift warmed my body, and I focused my energy on him. I sent it across the food court, past lone lady shoppers, past families, past salesmen at their kiosks. The moment it hit him, as if he had run into a brick wall, he abruptly stopped. He turned around and bee-lined straight at me.
At first I was scared. There was a shoplifter coming right to me. What if he attacked me? Then, I saw his face, and I knew I was in control. Once he made it over to our table, I was at a loss for words. What do you say to a shoplifter you caught stealing? He stood there, panting, inhaling my Gifted rose scent.
His hands were shoved in his pockets so I asked to see them. He pulled out four pairs of sunglasses, two in each hand. Like putty in my hands, he didn’t even try to run.
I asked him where he got the sunglasses, and he pointed to the store nearby. His mouth hung open in a lopsided grin. I knew that I was forcefully exposing him against his will, but it didn’t feel wrong. He was a thief after all. I asked him nicely to please return the sunglasses, and he immediately walked towards the store. I followed him the whole way. To my utter disbelief, he gave the salesman all four pairs. I was a hero!
Helen snapped her fingers, returning me to the present. Clearly she hoped she had convinced me to continue practicing. With fresh determination on her face, she stared straight at my necklace. “How about you use your Gift on me?” She asked. Her eyebrows were perched high on her forehead, hopeful that I would agree. “Hel, we’ve tried many times. You can’t fight my Gift, only another Gifted can,” I said as nicely as possible. Every time I charmed Helen, she ended up frustrated and angry with me. I hoped to avoid another of her dramatic exits. I saw no reason why she should waste her energy fighting my Gift if it was a lost cause.
A flash of unreadable emotion crossed her face. Before I had time to decide if it was fear or anger, she pasted a smile on her lips. Despite having been held against her will by a group of powerful Gifted who might very well come back at any time, she rarely showed any alarm. Still, I felt the guilt build up inside. By being my friend, she is unable to live her life oblivious to the Gifted drama in the world, like the rest of our peers.
“If it is impossible for me to fight against the Gifts, why couldn’t Jaime lift my car the other day?” Helen asked. She tersely crossed her arms over her chest. Her mouth set in a straight line. Anytime Helen thought one of us were using our Gift, she jumped in to stop us. Fighting against our Gifts became her version of practicing in case trouble came again. She never succeeded.
I sighed. “Jaime’s Gift is erratic; sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.” I shrugged like that was just the way it was, but Helen was adamant.
“She’s been practicing, though. She is more consistent now,” Helen insisted. I felt bad shooting her down. She wanted to learn how to defend herself. How could I deny her that? It wasn’t that I wanted her to stop learning about the Gifted, but fighting against a Gift was a fool’s errand for someone not Gifted themself.
“Why don’t we practice other things that you can do to defend yourself against the Gifted,” I suggested, trying to console her. She looked defeated.
“What are some simple signs that will help you recognize that someone is using their Gift?” I pushed.
She took a deep breath. “Ok, let’s see. I need to be cog
nizant of certain scents because Gifted women have a distinct smell. For example, you smell like roses.” I smiled in encouragement for her to continue.
“When Gifted guys use their Gift, their skin turns a unique color,” Helen said.
“Their skin doesn't exactly change colors…” I started to correct her. Helen groaned, looking exasperated.
“I watched Max a million times during the Gifted Program, and I just didn’t see it as clearly as you did. To me, it just looked like he was feeling sick. His face got all blotchy, his jaw clenched, and then right when I thought he was going to throw up, the sky opened up and rain came down,” she explained.
“That’s great, Hel! Even if it isn’t exactly what the Gifted see, it will help you figure out who is using their Gift!” I exclaimed, excited that we had found a good method. She smiled back at me, triumphantly.
“What do I look like when I’m using my Gift?” I asked.
She giggled, and I became suspicious. “You gaze out from under your eyelashes, like you’re stalking your prey, but your lips are in this half smile like you’re about to seduce someone,” she said. “It’s like you’re about to battle your arch nemesis with a blow dryer in one hand and a machete in the other,” she laughed. I gave her a shove, and she laughed even harder.
In good humor, we analyzed each of our Gifted friends, identifying the gestures, facial reactions, and fragrances of each. Then we turned to Prometheus’s crew and did the same to them, dredging our memories for every detail we could remember. After, we stopped in the food court to refuel.
“Isn’t that your brother?” Helen asked, pointing to Derek as he made his way through the crowded tables. He had one hand holding the strap of his backpack, and with a smile that broke hearts, he gave friendly faces a quick wave and a nod before reaching our table.
“Hey Derek,” I said as he sat down at our table, and I recognized a stiffness behind his smile. He worked hard to make sure everyone was happy, but I knew him too well. Something was bothering him.
“Hey Liv, Helen. What kind of evil games are you two up to? This is a mall, and I don’t see either of you with any shopping bags,” he said. With a lovable twinkle in his eye, he turned his attention to Helen. Her face turned bright red. She had fallen for Derek's charm.
“Uhh…,” Helen stuttered as I gave her a curt shake of my head. We had never told Derek about my Gift because I didn’t want to worry him or put him in danger. “We were looking for guys,” Helen lied.
Derek grabbed a french fry off her plate. “Guys? I thought you were dating Cliff Adams,” he said and winked at her. Helen’s jaw dropped and her blush turned a few shades darker.
“As in pitcher on the baseball team, Cliff Adams?” In her embarrassment, her voice squeaked. “No, we’re not dating. He says hi to me, but he also says hi to the rest of the school,” she said a little forcefully.
“Oh, I didn’t realize. I just assumed, since Olivia is dating his best friend…,” he said. I was stunned. How did Derek even know that? Justin made sure we kept our romance a secret.
“Justin and I aren’t dating!” I shouted.
“You aren’t?” He asked and feigned shock. “Quit lying. I have spies all over the school. Do you think you can hide that from me? I have to look out for you.” My eyes narrowed into a glare. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Derek asked his friends to keep an eye on me.
“I’m not mad. Little sisters are supposed to keep secrets, and overprotective brothers are supposed to uncover them,” Derek explained, and stole a fry from my plate. “Anyway, it’s too bad that you and Justin aren’t dating because that’s kind of why I came here.”
For a minute, dread swelled through me. Did he know about Justin’s Gift? Did he know about my Gift? Would he be scared of me? Worried for me? All these questions surfaced so quickly. I regretted not telling him the truth months ago.
“Why?” I asked, trying my hardest to put on what I believed to be a poker face. He pulled at the sleeve of his jacket uncomfortably, a small sign that he felt anxious. I sucked in a breath and braced myself for the worst reaction possible. I pictured him locking me in my room and threatening Justin to stay away.
“I was hoping you could bring him over for dinner at our house,” he said. It was the last thing I expected him to say. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m kind of seeing this girl, and I already invited her to dinner…”
The realization sank in. My Gifted life was still a secret, and he wasn’t going to intimidate Justin.
“Oh, no. You are trying to divert the attention away from you and your mystery girlfriend. You think by catching Mom and Dad off guard so they don’t grill you,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m their little girl. Guess who’s going to be put in the hot seat.”
“We’ll both take the bullet for each other,” Derek pleaded. Then, he looked down at the table. “Plus, Mom already knew about you seeing Justin,” he added.
“What?!” I shouted. “How did she know?”
“Come on, Olly. Pandora is a small town. People talk. Mom was concerned about you acting weird a few months back. Instead of forcing her to dig for details, you should introduce him,” he said. He was desperate. I sighed in defeat. I hated to make Mom worry, and this would be a nice thing to do for Derek.
“Fine, I’ll ask him. I can’t guarantee he will agree. The whole secret relationship was kind of his idea,” I said. A broad smile appeared on Derek’s face again.
“Thanks, Liv. I know you’ll convince him,” he said and started to get up.
“Wait, who is the girl?” I asked, realizing that should have been my first question.
“A girl I met at college. You’ll like her.” He winked and walked away. Helen and I exchanged concerned looks.
“How are you going to convince Justin to meet your family? He won’t even say hi to you at school,” Helen said. I could hear the judgment in her tone. I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. I had no idea what to do.
* * * *
Chapter Five: Taking the Risk
I walked around Justin’s block twice getting ready to approach the front door. He lived with his mom and grandma just one block away from me in a quaint yellow house with a well-manicured yard. The landscape wasn’t expensive and overdone, but they kept the grass cut in the summer, and the leaves raked in the fall.
I stopped in front of the bare dogwood tree planted in their yard as I gathered the confidence to ring the bell. It would only be another two months before the beautiful pink flowers popped up on its limbs.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I wanted to confront Justin. Making our relationship public meant a lot to me. I didn’t want to keep secrets from my family. I wanted to prove to my friends and to myself that Justin cared for me as much as I cared for him. I was tired of justifying his behavior, and while I wouldn’t admit it out loud, I was beginning to question his motives. If I was going to convince Justin to go public with our relationship, I needed to start here. This was a place he felt comfortable, where he felt at ease.
I examined the driveway and took note of Ms. Benz’s car. The only thing I knew about Ms. Benz was based on an off-hand comment from my mom: she was friendly and polite when they ran into each other in the supermarket. Without a doubt, Mom would’ve grown suspicious if I had pried for more information…although now I knew Mom had known far more than I gave her credit for. At any rate, given how little Mom knew of her, I could only assume that Ms. Benz kept to herself, similar to Justin. It didn’t give me any hints which foot to lead with.
I gathered my confidence and walked up the front steps. For a split second I debated using my Gift to charm her. It would certainly make this encounter easier. I felt my necklace hum against my chest. As soon as the thought popped into my mind, I felt guilty. This was exactly the type of behavior we talked about avoiding when we made our rules during the Gifted Program. It was self-serving and manipulative, and not the first impression I wanted
to make. I just hoped she liked me.
I rang the doorbell and stood back to wait. The nerves were eating my insides. With one last thought about making a run for it, the door opened, and it was too late. A petite woman with Justin’s nose and serious mouth stood right inside the entryway. She wore dark jeans and a light blue sweater, exactly like an outfit my mom would wear.
“Can I help you?” She asked. Her tone was friendly, but she kept her hand cautiously on the doorknob.
“Hello, Ms. Benz. Is Justin home?” I asked. My voice sounded high pitched and squeaky.
Ms. Benz cocked her head in curiosity. The smile lightened her face as it made its way to her eyes. “You must be Olivia,” she said with warmth in her voice. My tension began to subside.
“Yes, I am Olivia Hart,” I confirmed. She relaxed, leaned on the door jamb, and put the other hand on her hip. She looked me up and down from the corner of her eye, but the stance wasn’t intimidating. In fact, she looked surprised and a little awed.
“I’m happy to see you managed to teach my stubborn son some manners. I’ve been telling him for months to invite you over,” she said.
I smiled sheepishly. Before I had a chance to correct her that I had invited myself over, the fattest cat I had ever seen peeked his head around the corner and looked up at me. He intertwined himself between Ms. Benz’s legs before plopping down in front of her and rolling his grey round body on the floor.
“Pleasure to meet you, Olivia. It looks like someone else is happy to finally meet you, too. Let me introduce you to The Great Catsby,” she said, motioning to the fur ball before reaching down to rub his belly. The cat purred loudly and reveled in the attention. I couldn’t help but giggle at the nimble, yet massive feline.