by H. K. Varian
And every bulb burned out.
“Darren—” Fiona called.
But her voice was drowned out by the final bell, and Darren was already gone.
When Fiona got home from school that afternoon, she grabbed her journal and went straight to her favorite spot on the beach, Broad Rock. Her father, who had no clue that Fiona was really a selkie, had forbidden her from swimming alone, claiming it was too dangerous. That was true for a human, of course. But a selkie was safest in the ocean, Fiona was sure about that.
Fiona didn’t like to break the rules, though, so instead of putting on her selkie cloak for a quick swim in the churning ocean, she simply perched on Broad Rock, her backpack on her lap and her journal in her hands. Fiona didn’t even bother opening her journal. While she loved writing in it before going to bed every night, when she brought it to the beach, it was nothing more than a prop. Because the real reason Fiona came to the shore every day, rain or shine, was to find the coppercolored seal.
She’d only seen the seal twice before—once when she’d found her selkie cloak, buried in the damp sand below Broad Rock, and once during the battle against Auden Ironbound—but Fiona was as sure as she could be that it was no ordinary animal. The unusual sheen to its coat and its brightly inquisitive eyes told Fiona there was something more there. Fiona was too rational to jump to conclusions, though; she wanted proof before she told anyone else.
But when she was very quiet, and listened to her heart, Fiona knew that the copper-colored seal was a selkie.
And if Fiona was right, then this was the selkie she’d been searching for. The one who could teach her the songs and tell her their secrets. The one who could help Fiona unlock all the powers that she didn’t even know she had.
I’m here, Fiona sent a message across the wide expanse of the ocean, somehow wishing that her thoughts could carry through the waves and reach the selkie; call her to shore. Please come. I need you.
The only response, though, was the gentle lapping of waves as they washed onto the sand. Fiona didn’t mind—not really, anyway. She was patient. Besides, next to being in the water, this little spot was Fiona’s favorite place in the whole world.
As the sun began to set, making the ocean glitter like it was made of sapphires and diamonds, Fiona suddenly felt a hand on her back. She was so startled that she jumped and spun around, accidentally knocking her backpack from her lap. But it was only her father.
“Dad,” Fiona said as a relieved smile filled her face.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Dad replied, smiling back. “Sometimes it seems like you spend all your free time down at the shore.”
“Can you blame me?” Fiona asked as she stared at the sunset. The golden sun shimmered as it dipped beyond the horizon, bathing the sky with shades of crimson and violet.
“You’ve always been my water baby, Fee,” Dad said, using her special nickname. “Even during a cold rain I couldn’t stop you from jumping into puddles.”
They both smiled. Fiona barely remembered her mother, who had died when she was a toddler. Sometimes Fiona could reach down deep to recall snippets of the songs she sung or the way her mother’s cotton dresses smelled, but her father had always been there for her. His students at New Brighton University didn’t think he was very warm or friendly, but Fiona knew the truth: Dad had a soft side, and he loved her as much as she loved him.
“Come on, let’s go make dinner,” Dad said as he bent over to pick up Fiona’s backpack. “This got all sandy,” he continued, brushing it off. “I’ll wash it for you tonight so it will be dry by morning.”
“No!” Fiona cried, grabbing her backpack away from him.
She knew at once that she’d messed up. A look of concern—with just a touch of suspicion—crossed her dad’s face. I have to fix this, Fiona thought.
“You already do, like, everything,” she said. “I can wash my own backpack. Seriously. I want to help more.”
There was a pause before Dad spoke. Then he wrapped his arm across Fiona’s shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re such a great kid,” he said. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“What did I do to deserve you?” Fiona countered as she stood on tiptoe to kiss her dad’s cheek. But inside, she felt . . . well . . . like a liar. If he only knew, she thought.
But of course, that was impossible.
If Dad ever found out that she was a selkie . . .
It would be disastrous.
Chapter 3
The Storm
Sure enough, when Darren got home from school, Ray was waiting in the living room—just like he’d texted. Darren dropped his stuff and got right to the point. “I thought you said you couldn’t come home until next weekend,” he said. What was wrong with his voice? Why did it sound so accusatory? Ray, of all people, hadn’t done anything wrong. Darren tried to take a deep breath, tried to steady himself, but that jumpy, jittery feeling was still going strong.
Luckily, Ray didn’t seem to take offense as he crossed the room and pulled Darren into a bear hug. “That was my plan,” he said. “But Mom showed up after my midterm and said we needed to have a family meeting. So here I am.”
“This is weird,” Darren said anxiously. “Very weird.”
Even the happiness of seeing Ray wasn’t enough to eliminate the feeling of dread that weighed on Darren’s heart. But Ray was here, at least. Whatever was about to happen, Darren knew that he wouldn’t be facing it alone.
Just then, Mom came in from the kitchen. “Darren!” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“What’s going on?” Darren asked.
“Let’s all sit,” Mom said carefully, avoiding his question. She called over her shoulder, “Alan? He’s home.”
Dad’s back, Darren realized with a sudden rush of relief. He hadn’t seen or even heard from his father since Saturday morning. But now, here they were, the whole family together again. That was a start. A good start.
“Hey, buddy,” Dad said as he crossed the room and gave Darren a quick hug. Dad smiled, but it didn’t completely reach his eyes.
“Dad,” Darren said. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in—”
Dad patted Darren’s back. “We’re going to talk about that,” he said. “We’re going to talk about everything.”
“Come on, D,” Ray said from the love seat by the picture window. “Sit with me.”
Darren crossed the room and sat next to Ray. His legs were jumping—it was like his knees were rattling in their sockets—so he pressed his palms on them, hard, to make them stop.
Mom and Dad sat too at opposite ends of the couch. Mom’s shoulders were so tense, so high. That feeling of dread surged through Darren again, but he tried to quash it. You don’t know anything, he told himself. Stop freaking out.
For a long moment no one spoke. Mom and Dad exchanged a glance, but what they were communicating between themselves, Darren couldn’t tell. Then Mom took a deep breath.
“This isn’t a conversation we ever wanted to have with you,” Mom began. “It’s— I—”
As her voice faltered, Dad sighed. “What your mother is trying to say,” he began, “is . . .”
“We’ve decided to get a divorce,” Mom finished.
No one moved.
That’s it, Darren thought numbly, staring into the great empty space between his parents. His worst fear—the worry that had been gnawing at him for months—was actually happening. It hadn’t sank in yet, that big, awful word. “Divorce.”
But it was real, and it was happening—like it or not.
“Why?” Darren asked, and his voice sounded all thin and small, like he was still a little kid. Darren cleared his throat and tried again. “Why?”
“Oh, baby,” Mom said, dabbing her eyes. She held her arms open wide. “Come here.”
But Darren didn’t budge.
“There isn’t one specific reason,” Dad said. “We’ve just grown apart. We’ve been married for twenty-three years, y
ou know. That’s a long time.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, a hard edge to his voice. “A really long time. It sure seems like a shame to throw away a marriage like that. A family like this.”
“We’re not throwing away our family,” Mom protested. “But we can’t go on like we have. All this fighting and discord—it’s not healthy for anyone.”
“Well, maybe if you were here more,” Ray snapped, turning to Dad. “I mean, come on—you didn’t even come home for two nights?”
“Ray. Calm down. I asked Dad to leave,” Mom said evenly.
“What about all the times he missed dinner to work late? Or hang out with his buddies instead of putting his family first?” Ray demanded.
Dad took a deep breath; Darren could tell he was trying to stay calm. “Son, I’m not a perfect person,” Dad told him. “I’ve made mistakes—I’ll be the first one to admit that. But to be honest with you, your mother and I have not been happy together for a while. Sometimes the best thing for me to do was clear out. To give us both a little space.”
“And that’s when we realized that we’re actually happier apart,” Mom spoke up. “This isn’t some spur-of-the-moment decision, you know. We’ve been thinking and talking about it for a long time. And we can’t keep denying it—Dad and I aren’t in love with each other anymore, and we don’t want to stay married.”
“So what now?” asked Ray. “I mean, what happens next? Exactly what does it look like when the Smiths Get Divorced?”
Mom ignored Ray’s sarcasm, even though she’d never tolerated one word of back talk before. “We filed for divorce last week,” she explained. “The process will take several months to finalize.”
“What does that mean for Darren?” said Ray. “Where’s he going to live?”
“With me,” said Mom, glancing at Dad out of the corner of her eye. “At least, until custody decisions are finalized.”
Custody.
The word made Darren feel like throwing up.
“And where’s Dad going to go, now that you’re throwing him out?” Ray asked.
“Okay, son, that’s enough,” Dad said, a hint of warning in his voice. “That’s your mother you’re talking to. She deserves your respect.”
“Sorry,” Ray mumbled. “But this is a lot to take in.”
“To answer your question, Mom’s not ‘throwing me out,’ ” Dad said. “I found an apartment right here in Willow Cove—it’s a pretty good place—and I’ll be moving out next weekend. But, Darren, don’t worry, buddy, you’ll still see me all the time . . . every other weekend, and sometimes longer for holidays and school breaks.”
“All the time”? Darren thought. That doesn’t sound like “all the time” to me. It sounds more like “hardly ever.”
“And, Ray—whenever you want to hang out, my door is open,” Dad continued. “You’ll have your own key and everything.”
“Darren, baby,” Mom tried again. “You’ve been so quiet. Are you all right? Is there anything you want to ask us?”
Darren pressed his lips together tightly. The truth was, he had about a million questions—starting with why Mom was searching for apartment listings in New Brighton on her laptop. But even more urgent than his questions was the fear hammering away inside his heart. His fists were clenched, but not just because he was angry; Darren could feel that familiar crackle snapping through his fingers. Right now, he could barely control his emotions, let alone his powers. Everything in his world seemed uncertain, upside down. There was only one thing Darren knew for sure: he had to get out of there.
“May I be excused?” he asked quietly.
Mom and Dad exchanged another glance. “Sure,” Mom said. “We’re here for you whenever you want to talk, honey.”
Of course you are—except when Dad leaves, or you’re backed up at work, or you don’t feel like it, Darren thought as his anger got the better of him.
As he hurried from the living room and charged up the stairs, he could hear Ray. “Look how upset he is,” Ray was saying. “You couldn’t have held it together for a few more years, until he goes to college? I sure hope you’re happy. Since your happiness seems to matter more than anyone else’s.”
Before Mom or Dad could reply, Darren was in his bedroom. He slammed the door—harder than he meant to—and flipped on the light. Then Darren leaned against the door so that no one could come in and, at last, exhaled, a jagged breath that made his chest ache. In a matter of moments, his whole world had cracked wide open, and it hurt worse than he ever could’ve imagined.
It’s not that the news was a surprise. The joke, Darren thought bitterly, was that he had been in denial for such a long time. Stupid, he thought. You saw all the signs and you still pretended—you still hoped—
Darren’s thoughts were all-consuming, but somewhere in his consciousness he became aware of a dull buzzing noise, like the sound of bees swarming on a summer’s day. His palms were warm—uncomfortably warm—and between the heat and the noise, it was enough to pull Darren from his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, which glowed with pulsing electricity. Darren blinked and looked again, but the glow was only more intense. And it was spreading.
He yanked up his sleeves, and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. Crackling bolts of electricity were racing up his veins, illuminating them beneath his skin.
Nothing like this had ever happened before.
The lights overhead flickered ominously.
You’ve gotta get ahold of your powers, Darren scolded himself. He was losing control—it was slipping farther and farther out of reach with every passing second as his emotions surged, threatening to overwhelm him and everything else.
With Ms. Therian’s warning ringing in his head, Darren remembered the breathing exercises Gabriella always did when her nahual powers started to break through. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . , he thought.
There was a knock at the door.
No, Darren thought anxiously. Get out of here! He wasn’t even close to regaining control.
“D, it’s me.” Ray’s voice, low and comforting, floated through the closed door. “Can I come in?”
In his heart Darren wanted nothing more than to see Ray—Ray, who knew exactly how he felt; Ray, who would understand everything. But the electrical currents were still racing up his arms and growing stronger—
“I—I just want to be alone,” Darren said in a strangled voice. “Can we—can we talk tomorrow?”
On the other side of the door, Ray was quiet for a long moment. In the silence, Darren could hear something besides the thrum of electricity under his skin: a long, low rumble of thunder.
“Whatever you want, buddy,” Ray finally said. “I’m here for you. Any time.”
“Thanks,” Darren said gratefully. But when he heard Ray’s footsteps retreating down the stairs, he felt even worse. No one at school—not even his Changer friends—could understand the kind of pain Darren felt. Only Ray could, and by sending him away, Darren knew he was truly alone. The thought made his hands burn even hotter.
Boom!
The house shuddered from the sound of the thunder; the storm was moving fast. The lights flickered repeatedly; with mounting horror, Darren realized that they were flickering in unison with his hands. Then suddenly, Darren heard the pounding of rain on the roof.
The storm had arrived.
And it was calling him, pulling him toward the window. Darren found himself moving across the room, throwing sparks with every motion. He yanked back the curtains and shoved the window open.
The blast of cool air felt good on his burning skin. Overhead, the billowing clouds churned, as wild as the ocean during a hurricane. Bolts of lightning glimmered and crackled—two, three, ten at a time. Darren had never seen anything like it, and even through his anguish he could acknowledge its beauty. He held his hands in the air and watched them crackle with lightning, pulsing in time with the massive bolts overhead.
It’s me, he realized. I’ve caused this storm.
> His powers . . . They were greater than Darren had ever dreamed. As the lights went out, plunging the entire street into darkness, a terrible realization dawned on him. What will I do if I can’t get control? he wondered. What will happen if Mom and I move to New Brighton, away from my friends and Ms. Therian and the First Four?
How will I ever learn to control my powers without them?
Chapter 4
fisherman’s Bay
At lunch the next day, Gabriella joined her soccer friends. “What’s up?” she asked the other girls, who were clustered around Josie’s cell phone.
Trisha, the team captain, glanced up. “You have got to see this video,” she said. “Did you hear the big storm last night?”
Gabriella nodded. “Definitely—the power went out, and I couldn’t finish blow-drying my hair. You know how miserable it is to sleep with wet hair?”
Trisha grimaced sympathetically. “That’s the worst,” she replied. “The storm was really bad. When you see Josie’s video, you’ll totally understand why we all lost power.”
Gabriella leaned in close as Josie played the video again. At first the video was pretty unremarkable. Sure, it was a big storm, but Willow Cove was close enough to the ocean that strong rainstorms were pretty frequent.
As the storm grew, though, Gabriella found herself captivated by the video. There was so much lightning that the dense wall of clouds seemed to glow from within.
“Just wait until the lightning really gets going,” Josie said. “In five, four, three, two—”
Crack!
“That house!” Gabriella exclaimed as a massive bolt of lightning ripped through the sky. It almost made a direct hit—
“Wait for it,” said Josie.
Then the clouds seemed to explode as another enormous bolt suddenly scattered into a swirling fireball of sparks. Gabriella’s breath caught in her throat as it happened again: all those blazing sparks pulled together into a thick bolt that came perilously close to hitting the same house again and again.
