by Alana Siegel
The dark olive-colored muscles rippled in the legs of the guy on the right. His stride was wide, like he was highly anticipating gym class.
Then I noticed the broad shoulders of the guy on his left. He had a body that made you curse the simple idea of clothing. He walked with such arrogant confidence that I was surprised I couldn’t recognize him. Surely he was one of the athletes all the girls ogled after at the football games. Jaime noticed my distraction and paused from the one-sided conversation.
A strange thing happened to me right then. Starting from my chest, a great sensation flooded my body. It began as a tingling in my core. Then, it grew. It swam through my veins and warmed my blood. Pins and needles shooting down my legs and arms, I felt extremely overwhelmed with excitement and pleasure, and I didn’t want to lose that power. I had no doubt in that moment, I was intoxicating. I was beautiful.
I wanted the guys to see my beauty. They were within twenty feet, and I wanted them to come to me. Somehow, I was mystifying, enchanting, and pulling them closer. Instead of walking toward the class, their path veered toward me. Each step was lazy and trance-like.
I felt filled with power. I tried to funnel that power toward the guys. Jaime stared in disbelief, but didn’t say a word.
They were within forty feet now, and I could finally make out their faces. I was stunned to find out that it was Cliff Adams and Justin Benz’s muscles that caught my eyes. It didn’t stop me from channeling my energy in their direction.
Cliff wore a lopsided smile. He raced toward me as my heart leapt at my newfound power. Just as Jaime blocked him from throwing his arms around me and tackling me to the ground, I turned toward Justin, expecting to see a similar reaction.
However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. If he would have shown indifference and continued to class without another glance in my direction, I would have been happy. Instead, his reaction to my beauty was pitiful and embarrassing. He could barely look at me. He averted his eyes, and my confidence disintegrated. He rubbed his face like I was the sun, and it hurt to look directly at me. Each step he took backward deflated me.
Unable to stand the rejection, I turned back to Cliff and saw he was shaking his head to clear it. Jaime gave me her best ‘I-told-you-so’ look as she tried to bring him back to reality. Was that my Gift? I had the ability to guide members of the opposite sex down the path of my choosing? What kind of Gift is that?
Before Jaime had time to bring it up, Max appeared beside our little group walking around the track. Interesting that he always showed up when Cliff paid attention to me.
“Shouldn’t you be sucking up to the gym teacher, jock?” Max taunted Cliff. He jogged in a circle around us, and smacked Cliff on the back of the head when he wasn’t looking. It was a cheap shot, but Cliff’s reaction time was slow. He was still recovering from the odd affect I had on him.
“Guess you’re not so tough without your big bad teammates around you.” Max moved in closer, attempting to get another shot, but Jaime moved impossibly fast and had her arm in front of his hand before it landed on Cliff.
Max recoiled for a second, realizing he almost hit a girl. Then, his anger came back, and this time, Jaime looked equally fierce, crouched down with her fists up like a boxer. I was terrified.
Max wasn’t giving up on his original fight. “Jock, let’s do this now. We’ll race. Or are you too scared?” His voice was sharp and derisive. Completely ignoring Jaime, his words were aimed at Cliff. They were full of venom and more than a little antagonizing.
He shifted his weight back and forth, staying close enough to be intimidating, but just out of anyone’s reach. His skin took on a red hue, and the air felt thick and heavy.
Cliff was regaining his strength, and although he was usually non-confrontational, it was obvious Max was pushing the limits of his patience.
Jaime stepped in again. “Let's see if you can beat a girl,” she barked. She ran straight at him, gave his chest one hard shove, and took off running. Max's mouth hung open as he stumbled back in surprise.
He recovered rapidly and shot off after her. The air buzzed in their wake. He was quick; however, Jaime was faster. In fact, she was unbelievably fast. For sixty short seconds, Cliff and I stood staring after them. We watched as Jaime, faster than humanly possible, rammed against the metal fence before Max reached it. I jumped up and cheered. She turned around to give us a victorious wave with a smile on her face. Cliff’s jaw hung open. He was too flabbergasted at Jaime’s speed to say a word.
The clouds moved in fast. In a matter of seconds, it was black as night. The sky opened up and rain poured down. There was no denying it. Max's skin was a deep shade of red.
The gym teacher called out to the students, telling us to come in from the track and field. Cliff left a wide space between himself and Max as he ran to the school. Jaime began walking along the fence away from Max.
My head was telling me that Jaime was smart to be moving in the opposite direction, but I stood in the same spot, unable to move. I looked at Max standing on the other side of the field. Lightning scarred the sky above him, dancing in and out of view quickly. The piercing light emphasized his red glow. He looked other-worldly.
His breathing grew heavy. I saw his chest rise and fall with each gasp that he took. He was a beast, gathering strength from within. His physical appearance was intimidating, and yet, that wasn’t the scariest part. With each huff, the rain fell harder and the lightning got stronger. The space around him shined like a flame. As it grew bigger, the lightning became out of control. It jumped farther and farther across the field, like a firework, engulfing the air around it.
I watched in awe, and Max stared back at me. His feet were planted into the ground, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
I faintly heard Jaime calling my name from far away. Nothing was forcing me to stand on the edge of disaster with each strike of lightning like a brush with death, but all I could do was stand there with my wet clothes sticking to my body, and watch the light show.
I didn’t flinch. I let it come closer. Everything around me was lit up. I was fascinated by what Max could create. Seeing this other side of Max was a thrill. I wanted to observe every detail of the lightning. I needed to understand how he did it. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t safe. Max was angry and out of control. I should have recognized my mistake right away. His power was new and irrational. He couldn't protect me.
It was too late. A single bolt of lightning strayed from Max’s stratosphere. It was coming directly for me. As if time slowed down, I followed its arc and watched it cut across the sky. There was no need to be scared. I just accepted that this was it: the end of my life.
Suddenly its trajectory changed. I was saved from pain. I would live one more day. I was wrong. Something else hit me with unbelievable force. It sent me backwards twenty feet. The wind rushed out of my lungs and the world around me went dark. It felt like one hundred pounds of rock and dirt were piled on top of me. Death smelled like lavender.
“I think the lightning missed us,” someone said close by, sounding like Jaime. Maybe I hadn’t died. I cracked one eye open and saw Jaime lying in the mud on top of me. Every muscle in my body ached as I tried to hoist myself out of the mud.
“You tackled me so the lightning wouldn’t hit me?” I asked her. She gave me a half smile and easily hopped to her feet. She looked embarrassed.
“You were on the other side of the field. How did you make it to me fast enough?” I asked, staring at her in disbelief.
“You were in danger,” she said and shrugged her shoulders. She reached out to give me a hand out of the mud. The rain was letting up and the lightning had stopped. I looked around for Max, but he had disappeared with the lightning.
I remembered that I didn’t get a chance to see where the lightning that was going to end my life had crashed. I looked around for evidence.
“Looks like you didn’t have to worry about saving my life. Someone else had that covered,” I s
aid. On the right side of the goal post a metal Swiss army knife was dangling from a string. It was still glowing. That’s what caused the lightning to change its course.
Still out of breath, Jaime stood next to me, and I breathed in her lavender scent. We were both drenched. We watched Justin pulling down his Swiss army knife. The air looked clear and blue around him.
“You saw Max’s red hue,” she said it like a statement, but I know she was looking for confirmation.
“The Gifted can see it, but no one else can see it?” I asked.
“I think everyone can see it, but not as clearly as the Gifted. It’s like regular people are subconsciously choosing to ignore it,” she explained. “I know you used your Gift, you smell like roses.” She was right. Jaime let me stand there for a moment as I let the rain soak my gym clothes and the notion sunk in. These Gifts were a hard concept to swallow. Then she threw an arm around my shoulders and ushered me toward the school.
* * * *
Chapter Eleven: Practice Makes Perfect
I used to look at the gray clouds and see an artist's calm brush stroke: cotton puffs of gray delicately painted on a blue canvas. I used to hear classical music playing peacefully as I numbly watched them dance across the sky.
I stared out the skylight on the second floor of the department store in our mall. This week had presented a whirlwind of changes I had never dreamed of before. The clouds looked different now. Instead of tranquility, I saw a challenge, someone testing my skills, a tempest hanging around in the background, waiting to attack with swift skills, and back-handing me out of the way like a pesky fly.
I needed to clear my head, and that's why I had decided to go to the mall. Retail therapy was my favorite way to discard a bad mood. Of course, I dragged Helen with me.
She was the best shopping partner, other than my mom’s credit card, of course. But I didn't need an open wallet today. I needed a friend's shoulder to lean on. I just didn't know how to rationally explain what happened to me this week, and that was why Helen was in the dressing room trying on clothes while I stared out the window.
I sighed as I leaned back against a table covered in perfectly-folded graphic T-shirts. I was trying not to admit to myself that shopping wasn't helping.
I liked my orderly and unsurprising life before I was a part of the Gifted Program. I knew why the grass was green and the sky was blue. I knew what caused earthquakes and stars. I knew if you worked hard enough, you could be anything you wanted, because I knew all humans were created equal. All of that was consistent with everything I had learned, both in school and out.
I also knew who I was. I was a bright student who knew the answer when she was called on in class, but never raised her hand. I was average-looking with plain characteristics except for my untamed red hair. I was just another girl who wished to be kissed by a boy.
Most importantly, I knew what was expected of me. Or so I thought. Ms. Magos threw a wrench into the gears of my life.
I took a deep breath as Helen came out of the dressing room holding five dresses we thought she could wear to the homecoming dance.
With a disappointed look on her face, she said, “Nothing fit right.” In utter disbelief, I rolled my eyes.
Everything Helen tried on fit perfectly. Today, her plain white ribbed tank top hugged her long torso, ending a half-inch before the waistline of her light denim jeans. They hung at her hips, casually ripped at the knees and falling perfectly above her beige ballet slippers. Around her neck she wore a simple thin beige rope that conveniently matched her ballet slippers. On her shoulder was a brown hobo bag, perfect for the fall.
It was all so effortless for her. She looked that good without even trying. If I didn’t love her like a sister, I would hate her for it.
“What? It was my honest opinion. I want it to feel ‘just right’ when I find the dress,” she explained. I smiled to show I understood, handed her two more dresses, and shoved her back in the dressing room.
When I got back to the table I was resting on, I knew I was pouting, but I couldn’t help it. I was going to sulk, and no one could stop me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and settled onto my perch on the display table. I eyed a couple passing by who was a year ahead of me in school. Hand in hand, they were picture-perfect. She turned to look at him and when their eyes met, they smiled at each other, like they were the only two people in on a secret.
The pang of jealousy was strong when it hit me out of nowhere. My heart dropped into my stomach. The version of me that I clung to would never have that connection with a guy. Too shy and too plain, guys never came to speak to me. They never held my hand and sent me googly-eyed smiles.
Maybe this was my chance to change that. If the world had suddenly turned upside down, and I had control over this so-called Gift, this was the chance to use it.
I touched the charm around my neck and felt my confidence building. I straightened my shirt, smoothed my pony tail, and puffed out my chest out. I just needed a specimen to test it out on.
Launching myself off the table, hands in fists down at my sides, I surveyed the department store. Across the aisle was the men’s department. I spotted a guy who looked like he was about my age. His hair was a little messy and his clothes didn’t really match, but I was determined to try out my Gift. I was determined to see how far my powers could take me.
I crouched down behind a display of men’s jackets, keeping my target within ten feet. I had no idea what I was supposed to do to make it work.
Panic set it. What if I did it wrong and I exploded or something? I took a deep breath and watched the guy switch to another rack of hanging shirts. He seemed to be overwhelmed by all the choices and styles.
I thought to myself, ‘I can do this,’ closed my eyes, and took another steadying breath. Maybe it would work if I willed him to fall in love with me. With my eyes still closed, I tried to imagine us walking down the halls of Pandora High School. He would wrap his arms around me and dip me as he leaned in to kiss me.
I opened my eyes. If I didn’t believe it myself, how was I going to project my Gift across the store? Shaking out my arms and rolling my neck I prepared for attempt number two. I kissed the charm.
This time, I kept my eyes directly on the guy. He was holding open a shirt and facing my direction. I focused on the shirt, gathered all my strength, and remembered I was one of the Gifted. The rush, a low burning, began in my chest, right under the necklace. It was invigorating. I felt my smile spread and the heat flow to the rest of my body. I held out my arms and wiggled my fingers, enjoying the new sensation of power.
I focused all my energy in the guy’s direction. His head snapped up. A relaxed smile spread on his lips. The rush of heat, power, and control that I felt was electric. My rose scent blossomed. He locked eyes with me.
I was scared to blink, scared to break the connection. Out of amazement, or fear, or pure hope, my feet were glued to the floor. I flipped my hair over my right shoulder and smiled encouragingly. Batting my eyelashes, I assaulted his senses.
I sucked in a quick breath that I didn’t realize I needed. My movement seemed to spark him to move the last few steps. His languid smile continued as he stumbled over to me. He closed the gap between us quickly, stopping a few feet directly in front of me. I didn’t have time to think.
He got down on one knee, right there, in the middle of the men’s section of the department store and yelled, “I promise to love you the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” His face was sober. This wasn’t a joke. I was actually frightened. I panicked again.
“Help! Help! Somebody help me!” There was no denying it, he was lovesick. If this was my Gift, I wasn’t sure that I was thrilled about it.
I struggled for another few minutes as the guy whimpered, wrapped his arms around me, and tried to kiss me. I had one arm free when I spotted Helen and waved her over.
I turned back to the guy. I could see confusion settling in; my Gift was wearing off. Helen managed to pu
ll him off of me.
She gave me a look of bewilderment. Before she had the chance to ask what happened, I pulled her through the store and out the door.
I walked into my house and yelled out to see if anyone was home. Standing absolutely still in the foyer, I didn’t hear a sound and took off running up the stairs. I threw open my parent’s bedroom and rushed over to their dresser.
I paused with my hands on the handles of my Mom’s wooden jewelry case. The square box was about six inches wide and plainly decorated. It sat on a six drawer dresser beneath a wood framed mirror.
The thick dark green rug was tucked under the dresser and covered the floor surrounding the queen sized bed. A neatly folded green, yellow, and blue patterned quilt and matching pillows covered the bed.
The room was spotless, each object had its place; the laundry basket in the corner, the pictures of Derek and me on the walls, and of course, the jewelry box on the dresser. Despite its tidiness, the room felt warm and welcoming, maybe it was the pinch of green in the paint used on the walls, or maybe it was that my parent’s love filled the room.
I turned my attention back to the jewelry box and pulled open the top. I needed to find out more about my necklace and my Gift. Diving into the small collection of earrings, rings, and jewels, I desperately searched.
The problem was that I wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Was I expecting to find a piece of jewelry like my own, some sort of verification of Ms. Magos’s story? Was I hoping to feel the same attachment to jewels owned by my Mom? Was I looking for that connection to my family so I wouldn’t feel alone while uncovering the real me?
As I lifted each piece to get a closer look, my heart slowly sank. My mom’s collection of jewelry was completely unlike my necklace. The silver on the chains was smooth rather than braided, and the designs were ornate and intricate instead of simple. Nothing stood out as ancient or even seemed different.