“Even though I believe you didn’t help stage the choking thing,” I said, “you did sort of trick me into thinking I had powers.”
“I did no such thing! You’ve always suspected that maybe there was something different about you and I just got you to admit that. The only thing I ever wanted out of you—the only thing I ask of anybody I interview ever—is for you to tell me your own truth.”
“Well, my truth was ridiculous.”
“We’re all ridiculous, Kaylee.”
“What makes you ridiculous?” I asked.
She gave me a funny look.
“I mean, I have my own ideas,” I said, and smiled. “But why do you think you’re ridiculous?”
“Because I’m pushing forty and going gray, but I’m still into Star Wars and pigtails. Because I do podcasts about stuff I thought was cool when I was twelve. Because I see these guys who moved in next door and they’re so goddamn young and all I can think is what happened? How am I so freaking old? It’s ridiculous that I can’t wrap my head around that.”
“Mom?” The older daughter had appeared behind the glass of the front door, her voice muted and curious.
“I’ll be right there,” Liana said, and stood.
“So Crystal doesn’t have powers, and neither do I.” I also stood. “We’ve proved to ourselves that the choking thing was a hoax.”
“Yes, we have.”
“It’s not as satisfying as I thought it would be.” I sighed.
“No, it isn’t. Because what I set out to do was prove that the whole Telekinetic Teen stuff back then was a hoax, and we haven’t been able to do that,” she said.
“Maybe we still can,” I said as an idea began to take shape. “When’s that parole board review?”
•••
What if I could “prove” that I had powers?
And that Crystal did, too?
What if I could prove that she was a danger to herself and others and should never ever be granted parole?
What would she do then?
•••
There was a small U-Haul in the driveway when I got home, and I thought maybe it was some kind of robbery scam. But then my grandmother appeared with a small box and put it in the back.
“What’s going on?”
“You can’t tell your mother,” she said. “Not until I’m gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Assisted living place over by the water.”
“But . . . I don’t get it. Why?”
“Because I’m the boss of me and I don’t want to spend the rest of my years in something called a granny pod. The place is so smart it makes me feel dumb. If I don’t move around, the AC turns off; then I’m roasting.”
“Dad can fix that,” I said. “He can program it.”
“Pfft. I’m out there, it’s like it’s alive or haunted. I don’t like it. Your mother will have to deal with my decision.”
“She wants to help you,” I said.
“Well, she wants to control me,” she said. “There’s a difference”—she smiled—“as I’m sure you, my dear, are aware.”
I smiled and gave her a hug, and she felt so fragile that it made me want to bundle her up in Bubble Wrap.
•••
I went to the granny pod and lay down on the bed. The AC cycled on, startling me. I thought about Crystal’s childhood home, where appliances turned on and off before smart homes were a thing. Would I ever know how she’d done it? Had her parents been liars, too?
Because now it would be kind of easy . . . right? . . . to make a house feel alive?
•••
The picnic area at the club had been strung with lights for one of their summer barbecue nights.
“Hey.” Aiden’s hair was wet from the shower. He wore a white linen button-down shirt and plaid shorts, and I ached for him in a way that made me want to lie down on the shuffleboard court and curl up tiny, all fetal position, and wish for someone to push me far away.
“How’s it going?” I said.
“It’s been better,” he said. “Kathryn’s not taking it all very well. Telling me I ruined her year and stuff.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
I would have said the same thing to her, too, if she’d been there. I would have said that I know how hard it is to try to make something happen. How some things can seem destined even when they’re not. How it can be so very hard to accept when someone doesn’t bend to your will.
“It is what it is,” Aiden said. “Not much to do about it.”
I nodded. I knew what there was to do. I needed to grab him and kiss him and never let him go. But not here. Not yet.
“Crystal has a parole meeting coming up,” I said. “I think things are going to come to a head there. It’ll all be over soon.”
He nodded. “You think things are going to come to a head?”
“I will be bringing things to a head.”
“It sounds weird when you say it like that.” He smiled. “What, exactly, would you bring a head?”
“A hat?” I smiled.
“Hair?” he said.
“A body?”
We stood there as the older members of the club danced on the shuffleboard courts in ways we’d never learned how. I said, “I’m thinking of giving Crystal a taste of her own medicine.”
His eyes got big. “You’re going to try to hoax one of the best hoaxers out there?”
“You think I can’t do it?” I had hair stuck in my mouth and went to pull it away but missed some.
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to.” He reached out and pushed away the hair I’d missed. “Wait, I didn’t mean—” I said, “I know what you meant,” and told him my plan.
He said, “It’s so crazy it just might work.”
“I T’S SO CRAZY IT JUST might work,” Liana said. “But crap. I mean. I should be there. Let me see if I can reschedule my surgery.”
“Liana,” I said. “No. Just no. Because, priorities.”
“You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
“But you’ll help?”
•••
I had to read my parents into the plan once Bill at FPR was on board and after Liana had swooped in and made all the things happen and then confirmed with me that it was a go with the prison.
“Sounds like the kind of thing that will get you in trouble,” my father said. “Playing tricks like that.”
“The warden agreed to it,” I explained. “He’s going to swap out the lightbulbs and thermostats and tell the parole board what’s going on. They’ll let me bring my phone in. But there’s one problem.”
“What?”
“If I’m talking to the parole board about my powers, I can’t be the one controlling the lights and all with my phone.”
“I’ll do it,” my father said.
“No,” my mother said. “I will.”
My father and I mirrored each other’s stunned look.
“I’m tired of Crystal controlling all of us. I want a hand in bringing her down. It’s gone on too long.”
“Okay, then,” my dad said. “It’s a plan.”
•••
When I was finalizing the plan—making a list of what needed to happen and when—Aiden said, “I’ve got an idea for you, if you want to kick it up a notch.”
“Do tell,” I said, and he went to his phone to cue up a video.
•••
“That’s genius,” I said, after watching.
Then later, I sent the link to Liana.
She wrote back, “On it!”
•••
I lay in bed running scripts for the parole hearing, imagining how it was all going to work.
I imagined being back in that long-ago living room, beside Crystal, when that phone went flying.
How would appliances go haywire? How could paintings just fall off the wall? Had she somehow used some
of the tricks we were about to use on her?
What if the guard wasn’t the first guy who’d ever gone along with her?
What if . . . Will Hannity?
•••
Nobody talks about what happened to Matilda when she grew up and Miss Honey got old. Did Matilda turn into a raving lunatic as a teenager? Did she terrorize her junior class at prom? Was she so haunted by the Chokey that she grew up claustrophobic and had panic attacks in elevators? Did her powers fade? Did they get stronger if some friend of hers walked out of her life? Or did they only flare up in times of high anxiety or stress? Maybe childbirth? The death of Miss Honey? Some chance encounter with Miss Trunchbull at a shopping mall?
Did Matilda turn into an evil, manipulating, murderous cow? Or was that only Crystal?
WE WENT THROUGH ALL THE paperwork and photo procedures, and the warden greeted us with skeptical handshakes. Before long, we were assembled in a room with the parole board awaiting the arrival of Crystal. Liana had sent a technician to record the whole thing and to help with Aiden’s idea.
“Here goes nothing,” I said to my mom, who took a seat beside my dad behind a long straight table.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”
My dad squeezed my shoulder and said, “You got this.”
I said, “Smart home technology for the win,” and he smiled.
•••
Crystal came in, escorted by a guard. She stood at a table alongside ours, not looking at me, with handcuffs on her wrists, and for a second her wrists were all I could think about. Her pulse. Her muscles. Her skin. Her bones. Her whole sad and messed-up life.
The parole board head said, “Ms. Bryar, we understand you’d like to read a personal statement.”
“Yes, sir,” Crystal croaked, then cleared her throat and said it again. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded at her over his glasses and indicated she should move forward to the podium.
“I’ve been here a long time now,” she said, “and I still maintain my innocence. I was talked into a bad deal by a lawyer who was incompetent, and I was never given a chance to properly appeal. But in spite of all that, I’ve been a good person in here. I ain’t done nothing to upset nobody. All I want is to get out and live the rest of my life with my head down, not bothering nobody. Thank you.”
Only when she shuffled back to her seat did I see her ankles were also bound. I wondered if she still wished that her own lies would become true so that she could break free and run and never stop.
In a way I sort of wanted that for her, even if she didn’t deserve it. And who was I to say? Maybe she did.
•••
The head of the board looked at me. “Miss Novell,” he said. “I understand you’re here to speak as a sort of character witness.”
“That’s correct.” I stood and went to the podium.
“I didn’t say she could come,” Crystal said.
“These hearings are open to anyone who wants to make a statement, Ms. Bryar. Please be seated.”
I cleared my throat. “My name is Kaylee Novell and I am Crystal’s biological daughter. I’m here today to tell you that you can’t grant her parole. She is a danger to herself and others. She proved to me that she has telekinetic powers when I visited her here a few weeks ago.”
“If you’ll let me interject here for a moment,” the board head said, “we’ve long believed that that earlier nonsense was a hoax and its relevance is dubious at best.”
“But when I came to visit her a few weeks ago, she made the guard choke on his gum. She almost killed him. You can ask him.”
They whispered among themselves for a moment. This was all part of the plan.
“I inherited her powers,” I said, interrupting their side chatter. “I can prove it.”
Crystal muttered, “Oh, give me a break.”
The lights dimmed.
Then went up again.
Then went off entirely.
With a clank and a whoosh, the heat cycled on.
“What’s going on?” a board member said, playing her part convincingly.
The heat cycled off again and the air got still.
The lights went off again.
Then back on.
I pictured us all under a giant dome, tiny players in a world we had no control over.
“Miss Novell,” the board director said. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“I can make it stop,” I said. “No trick.”
“She’s lying,” Crystal said.
And I felt like how I thought fishermen must feel when they’ve been sitting on a dock or a shore or a boat deck for hours without any action and then, finally, a bite.
Crystal said, “I don’t know how she’s doing that, but she doesn’t have powers any more than I do.”
I exhaled—hook, line, sinker—as Crystal got reeled in.
“So you’re admitting that you never had powers,” the board head said. “That you and Correctional Officer Evans coordinated a little stunt during Miss Novell’s visit to give the impression that you had telekinetic powers.”
Crystal looked stricken. “What? I never said . . .”
“Officer Evans has already confessed to the inappropriate relationship, Ms. Bryar. And the board would be more likely to grant parole to someone who was truthful in all matters.”
Crystal’s jaw clenched. Her RBF was no longer resting, it was reddening. In that one moment, her whole life had come to a tipping point. If she kept up the lie, she’d stay in prison. If she told the truth, everything would fall apart but she’d maybe be free. She made a clucking sound with her tongue inside her mouth.
“She ain’t got powers,” she said, and it was almost like the admission broke some kind of spell that had been cast on her and turned her into a different person. “I don’t. And she don’t neither.” She looked softer, beaten, her own more defeated twin.
“So you’re admitting that all that stuff when you were a teenager was a hoax?”
“That’s right.”
The man looked at me and said, “Thank you, Miss Novell. I think we have what we need from you.”
“But I didn’t even get to do this.” I stood and held my hands up dramatically. The table slid away from me.
Crystal stood, her chair fell out from behind her. But no one else in the room moved.
I wished Aiden could have been there to see the look on her face when she shouted, “What’s going on?” I wished he could have seen the way she backed away from me the same way the people had in the video he’d found on YouTube—a promo for the Carrie remake in which a woman pretends to go crazy with telekinesis in a café where the tables and chairs were rigged with remote control wheels.
“Come on, Kaylee,” my mother said. “Let’s go.”
“What’s going on?” Crystal repeated. “How did she do that?”
And for a second I saw her as if she were a grotesque marionette, and I was the one pulling all the strings.
My mother opened the door of the room and we left as Crystal called out, “You still think you’re better than me after all this time; you can go screw yourself.”
“What is she talking about?” I said, out in the echoey hall.
My mother said, “I have no idea,” then turned to me and pulled me into a hug. “But you, my dear daughter, were amazing.”
•••
I called Aiden from the airport. Told him I’d left the granny pod open, to meet me there.
He came to me when I walked in. “How’d it go?”
•••
The kiss was bottomless, endless, everything. Aiden was someone totally other, some stranger—some man—who’d been hidden in plain sight all this time.
His hands were larger and everywhere.
His body swelled and towered.
How had I not noticed? How had I not known that it was possible to light up like this at someone’s touch? Everything I’d imagined paled in comparison.
; Turned out he was the one with special powers.
He could turn a girl to putty; he could take a body—mine—and make it melt.
•••
“We should take things slow,” he said.
“No,” I said. “Fast.”
•••
Turns out falling in love was another one of those weird, palpable life moments.
Because love could come at you like a wall of wind, constant and warm.
•••
“I told you so,” Aiden said, when we took a breather.
“Told me what, exactly?”
“Well, lots of things, now that I think about it.”
“Such as?” I poked his stomach through his shirt. It read, So Say We All.
“That Crystal was so dug in that she would never change her story unless she absolutely had to, which is what you made happen.”
“Correct. What else?”
“That you can’t make someone like you.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You made me like you.”
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”
My phone buzzed, but it was way across the room and I was too lazy to get up to see what it was. I wished it could float over to me so that I wouldn’t have to get up and leave Aiden’s warm embrace.
“So wait,” I said.
Aiden was stroking my hair.
I said, “If Crystal admitted that the whole thing was a hoax, where does that leave the photographer?”
“I’m not going to say it again. But I do recall saying something about how he was probably so dug in—”
I kissed him to make him stop.
•••
What if Will hadn’t actually seen anything?
What if she had come on to him?
What if he’d let her?
“HAVE YOU EVER HEARD THE INXS song ‘Listen Like Thieves’?” Liana asked me the following Saturday.
“I don’t think so,” I said. Why?”
Liana was hosting a barbecue at her house to celebrate her being done with the podcast. Aiden had come with me and was now playing some kind of beanbag toss with Liana’s older daughter on a small patch of grass in their tiny backyard.
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