“Be quick. I’ll stand guard,” was all she said. She squeezed past Raúl and the file cabinets and shut the door with her eye to the glass.
We needed no more prompting. Brian went first because this was all his idea and he had the web address memorized, and in turn, we all stuck our memory sticks in the side of the computer and uploaded our documents. It must have taken a good ten minutes for each of us to finish our applications, which is a very long time when your nicest teacher is doing you such a huge favor and looks so nervous the whole time. I was already convinced Ms. Matheson was going to get in huge trouble or fired because of us, so by the time it was my turn, my stomach was churning. I tasted bile in the back of my throat when Ms. Matheson opened the door and slipped outside to talk to Mr. A. without letting him see who was in her office. My elbows felt like they were made of jelly when I took my memory stick out, and my hand was shaking so much that I dropped the stick under her desk. Jill rummaged around and found it for me, and I was almost feeling better when Ms. Matheson reached into the room, turned out the light, and locked the door!
We all looked at one another in the gloom of the desk lamp. How long would we be trapped here? Raúl grabbed Jill’s wrist, and I was afraid they were going to start making out, so I turned, and when I saw the file cabinets, it came to me that we should look for everyone’s files. Mine was already out, and I quickly fished out the grounding for the supposed cigarette break. I handed it to Raúl, who chucked his patch into the rubber tree plant and snapped his fingers over the paper. A shower of sparks made short work of the document. Then he whipped open the drawer marked with the letter of his last name and pulled out his file, which was crammed full of violations. I returned to mine so I could get rid of my first day incident while he set fire to half the office with materials from his file alone, but I got a sinking feeling when I read the word stamped on the top of each page: COPY.
“Stop, Raúl, stop,” I said. “It won’t make a difference. These aren’t the central files.”
By then, the room was filled with smoke and reeked because of the nasty cheap ink they use for copies at this school. Brian opened the window and a few of the papers got sucked into the screen with the vacuum effect (thanks for teaching us that, Ms. Matheson). I don’t know how long we were in there in the dark, but we’d finished throwing the remaining papers back into their proper files when the lights came on. Ms. Matheson looked at us like “What happened?” but didn’t say anything. I looked back at the desk and realized we’d filed away my papers, which had been on the desk when she’d left. She’s not stupid, so she must have figured out what we did by now. Science class will be interesting tomorrow.
Now that I think back, I don’t remember seeing anything in my file about my manifestation. I’ll have to ask Jill if she saw anything related to hers.
We’ve made some progress. Of course I feel like dirt because, with all the excitement, I forgot to look up Other-Talented Healers!
December 16
Today we had our last field trip before Christmas. It was a doozy.
Now there’s no doubt—they’re thinking we’re flame addicts who want to set everything on fire all the time. Someone in the school admin thought it would be a good idea to have a field trip to the burn unit at Rhode Island Hospital. My heart flipped over, but then I remembered that my mother was transferred to Boston when they couldn’t take care of her here anymore, so maybe we would see run-of-the-mill burn victims. Do such things exist?
Tamping down all the fears this field trip brought up in me, I talked it over with Brian and Jill and Raúl and they agreed to smuggle their smartphones in so we could try to find out about Other-Talented Healers. In spite of the short distance, Mr. A. couldn’t walk us over there because of regulations—they don’t think he can keep us corralled as neatly if we’re not in a vehicle—so we all climbed into the bus and, for show, it made a loop around the hospital to come to a stop at the entrance.
We stayed at the back of the group, the better to carry out our illicit activities. As soon as we entered the foyer, a group of white-coated individuals shook Mr. A.’s hand and turned to us to instruct us on how to behave in the burn ward.
Brian whipped out his smartphone, as we’d agreed, but something caught my eye and I looked up. A new doctor had joined the presentation, and I can hardly write with the joy that surged up in me to see that it was none other than the annoying girl with the aluminum weakness from Moses Brown. No need for the internet.
“Oh,” I shouted. “You’re from Moses Brown!” I should’ve stayed back, stealthy, and made a move on the sly, but this was how it went down instead.
“You may remember me from the telekinesis demonstration,” she replied with a confidence that belied her age.
“Yes, but you’re here because . . .”
“Don’t take over the field trip, Kelly,” said Mr. A. “I’ll send you back out to the bus.”
“It’s all right,” the Moses Brown girl said as if she had it all under control. “I was just going to explain that I do attend the academy for telekinesis, but because I’m a super rare Other-Talented Healer, I also have my own medical clinic on the East Side and I come to the hospital as often as my schedule allows to cure the otherwise incurable.”
My head was swimming. I felt Brian’s hands on my shoulders and they reminded me to breathe. His gentle voice called out, “Are you going to demonstrate your Talent for us?”
A low rumble of “yeahs” and “let’s sees” went around our group and the girl smiled. “The ER is this way. Let’s see if anyone needs my help.”
One of the doctors reached to hold her back, saying, “We’re headed to the burn unit. That’s all they need to see.” This girl gets her way most of the time, I guess, because the doctor’s hand moved off her, but he seemed to be straining against the motion, as if he wasn’t doing it voluntarily. We all followed her eager strides.
I turned to Jill. “I didn’t get her name. What’s her name?”
“Beth, I think.”
“Like Elizabeth?”
“I guess so. I can’t believe we’re going to see if this is true. Kelly!” She squeezed my arm. Of the group, Jill knows most intimately why I’m so interested in Other-Talented Healers, and she hasn’t said anything mean to me about it yet. I feel so happy because she doesn’t think I’m the scum of the earth for what I did to my own mother. It wasn’t on purpose, after all.
The whole crowd of us entered the ER, and an attendant with an occupied gurney practically ran into us, shouting, but then he saw who was leading us, and said, “Beth, thank God! This one’s for you.”
They placed the gurney near some equipment and got out of the way. The boy was barely conscious and scalded all over his face and torso. The edges of the burn would have looked like water spots if they hadn’t been bright red. I felt his pain.
“Here’s a burn victim for you,” Beth said to the doctor who’d tried to stop her earlier. She calmly went to the sink and sanitized her hands, then returned to the bedside. She looked at the boy’s face and told him, even though I was certain he couldn’t hear her, “This is going to hurt at first. I’m sorry.” She placed her hands slowly and ceremoniously on his chest where the skin seemed most stripped away and closed her eyes, kind of humming. I was holding my breath even more than everyone else, hoping it worked. I have to admit, it didn’t look like it was going to. It seemed to be taking an unbearably long time and the kid was writhing in pain.
And then it was like the heavens opened and poured out their celestial music. Out from under Beth’s hands spread a new layer of pristine skin, exactly the same peachy color as the rest of the kid. It crept outward and met the original healthy skin with a slurping sound. Beth moved her hands to the kid’s neck and finally his face. As the new skin met his hairline, he woke up. Beth let go and stepped back, and the kid sat up and looked around as if he had no idea where he was. Applause broke out all over the ER. It sounded so composed, I thought they must all have a lot
of practice clapping for Beth. She was nodding and smiling, satisfied with herself, but I looked and was disappointed the kid was missing his eyelashes. I wasn’t able to get any closer, but for his sake I hope they’ll grow back. Otherwise, I guess there’s a real reason for fake eyelashes.
Since everyone was standing around as if she was the teacher, Beth addressed us. “They recently removed all the aluminum from the hospital—that’s my kryptonite. I’m just glad I can come here once a week and help people who really need it. The people I get at my clinic lately have chronic diseases caused by poor eating habits or posture. I guess I’ve cured all the genuinely sick.”
She’s crazy. I decided right there. Certifiable. But she, and apparently only she, has the Talent I need.
Mr. A. said, “Why don’t we move this presentation up to the burn unit, where we were headed anyway?”
But I interrupted, asking Beth something I needed to know. “Are there many Other-Talented Healers?”
“There are only ever about a hundred of us in the world at any one time. We all keep in touch,” Beth answered gamely.
“Are there any in the Boston area?” I insisted.
“I’m the closest one to Boston now that Katarina’s moved out West to the desert,” she said before the doctors and Mr. A. physically started ushering us pyro kids out of the ER.
I unfolded myself from the crowd and grabbed a pen from a patientless chart. “You have to call me,” I said to Beth. “We have to talk.”
“Okay,” she said like someone who doesn’t often get such requests, even though people must stop and ask her to cure their warts and whatnot all the time.
I wrote my name and phone number on the palm of her hand, and she’s already texted me. She was testing that she got the right number, but we’re planning to talk tomorrow evening.
When I joined the group in the foyer again, I saw that the adults hadn’t come to get me because they were debating heatedly amongst themselves. The doctors seemed to think we’d seen enough for one day, and after all, a scald is a sort of burn, but Mr. A. insisted that the school wanted us to spend some time in the burn ward, and we all filed into the elevator.
I can think of few places I would rather stay away from than the burn unit at Rhode Island Hospital. I’ve spent plenty of moments of my life there already, thank you very much. And, come to think of it, so have the rest of the pyros. As patients, a lot of them. Brian and I got to stand really close in the elevator, but my heart was beating loudly and I was starting to cry from the bad memories. If Brian hadn’t been holding my hand, I would’ve tried to run away.
All of the beds in this giant room in the burn unit have curtains drawn around them. It’s almost worse that way because you imagine what they might be hiding. Mr. A. led us past what looked like shroud after shroud until we came to a bed by the window. He reached for the edge of the curtain, and I turned into Brian’s chest. A bunch of other kids must’ve been hiding their eyes, too, because Mr. A. went through the students and positioned their faces toward the curtain. I didn’t let him touch my head, but acted like I was going to cooperate. Brian stood with his hand on my shoulder, ready to cover my eyes if necessary. Jill was doing the same for Raúl.
The curtain pulled back, and we all breathed out with relief. It wasn’t so bad, except that it was. This guy had been burned all over his chest, third degree or worse, and it had mostly healed. That’s amazing in itself, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at how mottled his chest looked. His skin shouldn’t have been half those colors, and they twisted together in lumps like the rope on the Rhode Island flag. It looked bizarrely shiny and uncomfortably tight over his bones. It was hard to imagine he would ever take off his shirt once he got out of there.
“Hi, kids.” He must’ve been expecting us. He adjusted his blanket to cover a little more of his torso, confirming my feeling that he must be embarrassed. But he also smiled and said, “I’m like you, and I had a little accident. But Beth, the Healer, maybe you know her? She cured me when I first got here. I probably wouldn’t have survived without her.”
Suddenly he sucked in air, rasping and dry, and coughed. The one word doesn’t describe the contortions his body went through. He convulsed until it didn’t look like his chest could take another minute. One of the doctors gave him a shot that knocked him out. This guy is going to show up in my nightmares, I know it. I squeezed Brian’s hand on my shoulder, looking for anything nice, or at least less horrible.
Mr. A looked at us and said simply, “Never take off your patches.” He might as well have said, “Look how repulsive and uncontrollable you are. Even the best Talent can’t erase what your horrible Talent does!”
A couple of the students gravely nodded their heads in agreement. I almost felt like agreeing, too.
December 18
The call with Beth went well. I mean, I was nervous and I had to talk about some horrendous stuff with someone I hardly knew and suspected was a little insane, and after seeing that guy in the burn unit I know her Talent has limits, but at least I have a little hope now. She’s agreed to see my mother if only we can figure out how to get to Boston. She potentially could, but I can’t hop on the bus because I’m watched and locked up and penalized, which is another horrible thing I had to explain to her. As if the demonstration at her school with her dim principal wasn’t enough. At that point, I was looking over at Jill, who had put on headphones so I could talk privately. I had turned away from her and was speaking really low, into the bedspread for most of the conversation, but when Beth failed to understand why we couldn’t go to Boston tomorrow, I kind of wanted Jill to step in and help me out.
Anyway, we’ve come to an understanding. I just wish all this other crap wasn’t in the way.
Just to add that Ms. Matheson has been really cold since the incident in her office. I think she’s like that to most of the students, but I’m not used to it. I can’t even get a stray smile out of her anymore, and although I hang around after class, she doesn’t talk to me. Far from it. She acts super busy as soon as the bell rings and won’t even look in my direction.
December 23
It’s winter break, and I wasn’t able to stay with Brian or Jill, and I wasn’t able to talk to my dad about this great new idea I have for Mom because he was too busy telling me about the last-ditch efforts they’re making to keep her alive over there in Boston. The skin grafts haven’t helped much and she was in the middle of a crisis when I last talked to him. If I could get a word in edgewise, he would know that all he has to do is bring me and this new great white hope I’ve found to my mom and everything would be okay. We could not only get her out of any immediate crisis, we might even be able to fix her forever. Maybe it sounds too good to be true and he wouldn’t believe me, anyhow. I’m the one who caused all of Mom’s problems to begin with, so how could I possibly help?
Grandma understands. She doesn’t ask me why I go through stacks of tissue boxes every time I get on the phone. I talk to Dad every day now because Mom’s status changes so much, so I work on getting through to him any way I can, wait for the big Christmas dinner with all the aunts and uncles, and hunker down texting Jill and Brian. Two weeks is too long to go without seeing either of them. And today I got a text from Jill that said Raúl was going to visit her. That fills me with jealousy to the brim.
But at least now I have friends, even if they can’t be bothered to see me over Christmas, and I have a way to help my mother instead of just feeling guilty about what I did. Beth’s been calling me and asking if she can come over. Apparently, telekinetics don’t have their movements nearly as restricted as us pyros do. At least Other-Talented Healer ones. But I’ve seen what she can do, I don’t need any other information, and who knows what rules she might unwittingly break if she came here?
December 25
Merry Christmas! Today we had the big turkey roast with all the aunts and uncles and cousins.
As everyone came in, they gave me and my grandma a hug. It turned into a
sort of receiving line, and soon enough, Uncle Jack appeared. He started swooping in for the hug, but I felt the strength of my new friendships, and the support of my boyfriend, and the hope that we might escape from our prison-school, and that my mother will soon be well and come back to me. I said one word to him: “Arsonist.” He backed up with such a white face, I thought he might fall over.
One of the other uncles said, “What did she say to him?”
The aunt who went with him answered, “I think it was ‘arsenic.’ Why would she say that?”
Uncle Jack ran down the steps and got back into his car, so it was a great day. I didn’t mind the other relatives’ confusion, and his flirtation with felony is still a secret between us. I got some envelopes with money for presents, and Brian texted this morning to say he’s coming by in a few minutes. I feel totally bloated from the dinner, so I hope he doesn’t hug me too hard. It will be great to see him. And maybe kiss him . . .
January 8
Christmas was triumphant, as I wrote on the previous pages, and it got better. Brian’s dad dropped him off at Grandma’s house and he met most of my relatives and everyone was so impressed with him, how tall and handsome he is. I looked like a pure genius for finding him.
We went to my room and I puckered up, ready for some of those great kisses, but he pulled a wrapped box out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
I was so surprised, if I’d said anything it would’ve been something stupid, so I worked the bow off the package and removed the paper to find a small jewelry box. I couldn’t bring myself to open it. What kind of jewelry does a boy give a girl? I didn’t want to know if Brian thought heart-shaped gold was the way to my real heart, because it’s not. Heart-shaped jewelry is tacky and lame. Gentleman that he is, he put my fears to rest by popping the lid open while the box was still in my hand.
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