The Cyrun

by Janilise Lloyd

  I chanced a glance at Dad who stood staring at the TV, dumbfounded, his face turning from red to purple. I swallowed hard.

  “It’s been difficult to nail down specifics about her description due to the darkness of the bank’s interior at the time and because security cameras were rendered useless by the thieves prior to their entrance to the bank.

  “We have reason to believe this young lady assisted the injured security guard and provided intel to officers via the injured guard’s cell phone. She is, of course, in no danger from us. We simply would like to encourage her to come forward in order that we might thank her and obtain any additional information from her that may be helpful in the prosecution of these criminals.”

  I pulled the TV remote from the kitchen counter, through the air, and to my hand. I flicked off the power switch. “It’s a crazy, sad world out there,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess the important thing is that everyone is alright. So, you ready to eat some breakfast?”

  “You sneak out past your curfew, interfere in a bank robbery, show up here smelling like death itself, covered in blood, and ask if I want to eat breakfast?” Dad hissed.

  Time to drop the act, apparently. I fell heavily into one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table, slouching and exhausted. “I’m really sorry, Dad. I know it was reckless, and irresponsible, and stupid, and worthy of a serious grounding, but I had to do it. I knew something awful was going to happen at that bank, so I’ve been watching it for the past four nights from the dumpster at La Sefoya Seafood, which is why I smell like a three-day-old fish stick. Last night, something did happen, and it was a darn good thing I was there because I very likely saved the life of one of the guards and probably more. Those thugs were completely trigger happy.”

  “Trigger happy?” Dad asked, glancing down at my gory jacket. “Did you get shot?” His eyes widened and his breath came in rugged gasps.

  “Okay, calm down, Dad. Deep breaths. I’m fine.” I stood up and wrapped my arm around his back, guiding him to one of the table chairs. He sat down, resting his head on his palms as he sucked in large gulps of air.

  “Yes, I was shot, but you don’t need to worry. Somehow—miraculously—I’m healed. Like 100% better, so it’s no big deal,” I said.

  “Healed? Healed how? Let me see,” Dad demanded, yanking up my jacket on the side with the blood. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you sure you were shot? There’s nothing here.”

  “I know, crazy, right? I guess I’m not completely sure, but it definitely felt like being shot. Not that I’ve ever been shot before, but I’d imagine that’s what it would feel like. It sucked.”

  Dad looked at me skeptically for a moment before he pulled me onto his knee. “I’m proud of you for helping save that guard—and probably others, too. But next time you get a feeling like this, please talk to me about it first—”

  “Dad,” I interrupted, “you don’t understand what it’s like, knowing things the way I do. I can’t imagine getting a feeling like I did about the bank and not doing something about it. It’s not who I am, I can’t just—”

  “Ava, honey,” he cut me off, “that’s not what I’m asking. I may not perfectly understand, but I get it more than you might think. All I mean is, when you get these kinds of bad feelings, tell me about it and we can work on a plan together. At the very least, I would have liked to be there with you last night. You probably could have used the help, too. We both know your telekinesis leaves a bit to be desired.” He winked.

  I jabbed him in the ribs playfully. “That was low. If we lived in Cyrus, I’d swim laps around you, old man.”

  He laughed. “That’s probably true. But we don’t live in Cyrus, and I will always be the better telekinetic, so deal with it.”

  “I don’t know… maybe someday I’ll get good enough to compete. You better watch it.”

  “In your dreams,” he laughed, which turned into a cough. “Ava, darling, you know I love you, but you positively reek. There is no way I’ll be able to swallow anything until you’ve taken at least a half hour shower. Go jump in and I’ll start the laundry.” He paused, considering. “Better yet, I’ll throw away your clothes and take the bin out to the curb. No amount of detergent is going to solve that problem.”

  I sniffed myself and gagged, then stood from my dad’s lap. He shouldn’t be subjected to that odor. “Fair enough. You’ll write me a slip to excuse me from first period?”

  “I shouldn’t, considering this is all a result of rebellious sneaking out, but yes, and only because I am the coolest dad ever.” He stood from his seat, breaking out in a dance that was a cross between the electric slide, the robot, and a rabid squirrel feasting on peanut butter.

  “Uh huh,” I agreed, leaving the kitchen as quickly as I could. Best to leave Dad to his dancing at times such as these.

  Chapter 3

  Blunders

  Five days after the bank fiasco, I saw the boy again—the one who’d saved me from the dumpster and somehow healed me from my bullet wound.

  I was out with the track team running next to my best friend, Lana. We were supposed to do a quick mile jog around the perimeter of the school as a warm up. Nobody was moving all that fast, preferring to stay in small groups and chat as we ran. My precognition had given me a warning that some sort of injury was going to happen at track practice today, so I was on high alert as we jogged.

  We had just turned the corner onto Lincoln Avenue when time slowed. About an eighth of a mile down the road, I saw a young boy—maybe four-years-old—out playing on his driveway with a red ball. A large truck was headed north, facing me. The child’s ball rolled out onto the street. He chased after it, running directly into the truck’s path, not even twenty feet in front of it. His mother’s face contorted in horror, her arms stretching out toward the child who was oblivious to the danger.

  I stopped running, deliberating.

  Option one: run. I could easily reach the boy in time. But there were witnesses—lots of them. And they were all people who knew me personally. If they saw me reach the child who was a fair distance away in a matter of seconds, there would be questions about how I’d done it.

  Option two: use telekinesis to move the truck. That option was almost certainly doomed to fail, though. An object that large with telekinesis as erratic as mine was likely not going to end well. Dad might have been able to pull it off, but not me.

  Option three: use telekinesis to move the boy. The problem there was similar—I didn’t know how well I could control where the boy landed. I didn’t want to risk harming him.

  Less than half a second passed as I weighed my options. Ultimately, the choice was clear—the only thing I could trust myself to do was use my speed. Granted, that did risk the greatest exposure by far, but I couldn’t let the child die to protect myself.

  I took off, running as fast as I could push my legs. The truck’s wheels screeched. The driver was trying desperately to stop, to swerve, anything before hitting the child.

  I reached the boy just in time, scooping him into my arms and diving for the sidewalk. I turned in midair, trying to protect the child, and landed hard on my back on the cement. I could feel my shirt shredding from the impact, scraping my skin raw.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, slowly sitting up. The child in my arms bawled. I released him. His mother came running over to us, scooping him up in an enormous hug and kissing every inch of his head.

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes burning with sincerity. I gave her a weak smile in return.

  Pain pulsed through my bleeding back as I looked over at my teammates on the other end of the street. Every one of them stood frozen, their mouths hanging open in shock—all except Lana who stood with her arms crossed, worry creasing her forehead. She didn’t know precisely what was different about me, but being my best friend for four years had exposed her to enough odd situations that she knew I wasn’t quite like everybody else.

  One other face stood out among the hordes of people lookin
g at me—the boy from the night at the bank. He stood on the same side of the street I did, directly across from the rest of my teammates. He stood casually, no worry in his stance or face, unlike every other bystander. Instead, he looked at me with curiosity, a small smile playing at his lips. His eyes met mine briefly before I was distracted by a voice next to me.

  “Are you okay?” a balding man asked as he knelt beside me.

  I glanced around in alarm. Uh oh. Here come the crowds. That’s the worst part about saving someone—the crowds. People just can’t seem to leave it alone. They have to rush you, thank you, make sure you’re okay, wonder how you did it… I was tempted to run away, then and there, but I knew that would only raise more questions.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine,” I assured the man.

  “I’ve already called an ambulance. It’s on its way.”

  I tried to smile politely in response, though riding away in an ambulance was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Out of curiosity, I looked back at the mysterious boy down the road. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t find him anywhere in the surrounding crowds. How odd. I was disappointed; I wanted to ask him how he had saved me the other night.

  I couldn’t dwell on him long, though. Others had reached me now, including people from the track team.

  “Ava, are you okay?” Selma asked. Teammates followed behind her, asking the same question. I slowly stood up from the ground, trying to hide the amount of pain I was in.

  “Yes, I’m going to be fine, everybody,” I assured the crowd.

  “How did you get over here so fast?” Lance Jacobs asked. I had to work really hard not to glare at him in response. I already didn’t like the guy. He was a pompous jerk who thought his speed on the track was something worthy of worship.

  “Ava was running ahead of all of us,” Lana jumped in. “Didn’t you notice? All she had to do was lunge across the street and she was to the kid.”

  I shot Lana a grateful glance. She gave a half smile in return. She clearly didn’t know quite what to think of the situation yet, but had decided to cover for me regardless.

  “No she wasn’t,” Lance insisted. “She was right next to you.”

  Shut up, Lance, I thought.

  “That’s crazy. No I wasn’t. You must have been looking at someone else,” I denied. “I was running ahead of you guys, just like Lana said. No need to get all worked up about it just because you can’t keep up with me, Lance.”

  “Ooooh, dang!” Jared laughed, punching Lance in the arm. Lance glared at Jared with annoyance.

  “Whatever, Ava. We both know I’m faster than you,” Lance said. He turned brusquely and shoulder checked Jared as he walked away.

  “Idiot,” Karissa said. “Don’t pay attention to him. We’re all glad you’re okay, Ava. That was really brave of you.”

  “Umm, thanks,” I said awkwardly, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

  The ambulance pulled up at that moment. I didn’t know whether I was mortified by it or grateful for the escape. A couple of first responders looked me over, deciding they better take me to the ER despite my complaints. The ER meant no hiding this from Dad. He would be less than thrilled by the news. Since I was a child, we’d already had to move six different times to various locations surrounding Denver because I’d exposed my abilities. We’d both begun to settle here in Littleton, though.

  Trying to play it cool, I hauled myself into the back of the ambulance and settled in for the long ride.

  Chapter 4

  The Scientist

  Dad arrived at the hospital twenty minutes after I did. By that time, I’d already been checked out, bandaged up, and given a prescription for pain meds I had no intention of filling.

  I sat relaxing in one of the waiting room chairs as he burst through the ER doors, yelling, “Avalon Tanner, that’s my daughter. Where is she? Hello? Anybody? My name is Michael Tanner, I’m here to see my daughter—”

  “Dad,” I interrupted his embarrassing shouting, “I’m right here.” I hobbled toward him, my back becoming more and more stiff with passing time.

  “Oh, Ava,” he breathed, running toward me. He hugged me tightly. I yelped in pain. “Oh, sorry, honey. That was stupid, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” I rubbed my back gently where his hands had just grabbed.

  “Are you okay? What happened? What did the doctor say?”

  I intentionally ignored his second question—that could wait until later. “I’m fine. The doctor bandaged me up, gave me some antibiotics, and said I’m good to go, so let’s get out of here already.”

  “Alright, alright. Let me go check in with reception and make sure we’re really okay to leave.”

  I watched as Dad talked with the nurse behind the desk. She was flustered, of course. Women seemed to have that reaction to my dad. He was one of those guys that always had more than enough women lining up to date him as long as I could remember, but he never seemed all that interested. Though he didn’t talk about it much, I got the feeling it was because of my mom.

  My knowledge of her was extremely limited. All I could gather is that they were never married and she had broken his heart. A couple years after that, she died in a series of battles in Cyrus. He never seemed angry toward her, just sad. I often got the sense that there was a lot he wanted to tell me about her, but he could never find the right words. More than a few times, I’ve been tempted to ask, but I know it hurts him when I bring her up, so I stopped trying a long time ago. I’ve never even seen a picture of her.

  I often wondered what she looked like because I couldn’t see a trace of myself in Dad. His skin was tan, mine was white. His eyes were brown, mine were green. I had freckles, he had none. His hair was sandy blonde, mine was auburn brown.

  Sometimes, I thought I must look a lot like my mom. It seemed that occasionally, Dad would get lost in thought while looking at me. The familiar, sad look would creep into his eyes that I had come to associate with thoughts of Mom. I suppose I’d never be sure.

  “Alright, looks like we’re home free, kiddo,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder gently as he guided me out to the parking lot. He opened the door for me and lowered me into the seat, treating me like a fragile object. It was kind of nice—I really did hurt a lot.

  “So, you gonna tell me what happened?” Dad asked as he jumped into the driver’s side and started the car.

  I sighed. The ride home from the hospital was at least twenty minutes. I may be good at stalling, but I wasn’t that good. “Fine, just try not to be mad, okay?”

  I explained everything that had happened, scrutinizing my dad’s face as I went. It fluctuated between abject horror, intense concern, and... happiness, maybe? I wasn’t quite sure.

  “You know, if we lived in Cyrus like we should, none of this would have happened. Not only because I wouldn’t have been remotely close to the boy, but because I could have used my telekinesis and nobody would even know I was the one that saved the kid,” I complained.

  Dad’s lips twitched in frustration like they always did when I brought up Cyrus. “I know you wish you could experience life in Cyrus, Ava. I know you get frustrated by your limitations in this realm. I understand, I really do. You think I don’t miss it too? I do. More than you could possibly imagine. But Cyrus is gone. Destroyed. There’s nothing to go back to anymore. We’re lucky to even be alive. So many other Cyruns are not. It’s important that we focus on the positives.”

  I didn’t respond. I looked out the window instead, watching the trees pass. I knew he was right. I knew my complaints were pointless. It was frustrating, though, to be stuck here, where I was so different from everyone else. If we lived in Cyrus, I wouldn’t have to hide who I am all the time. I could run at full speed. I wondered how fast I would be there. Fast enough that this afternoon wouldn’t have been such a close call for the boy, that’s for sure.

  “I’m proud of you,” Dad said unexpectedly, reaching out to grab my hand. “You did a good thing to
day, Ava.”

  I looked up at him. “You’re not mad that I exposed myself? Especially so soon after the bank incident?”

  “Mad? Are you kidding? Of course not. You saved a boy’s life today.” He reached over and ruffled my hair playfully. I smiled. My dad was the best.

  “What if we have to move again?” I asked.

  “Well, it sounds like we might not have to. If you and Lana stick with your story, you might be able to convince enough people that nothing extraordinary happened today. Humans have a funny way of wanting to believe things that make sense with what they think is true. It’s easier than adjusting their understanding of life, so they’ll often believe what they see as logical even if it doesn’t line up with what they’ve seen or experienced.”

  I fervently hoped he was right. Finding Lana was one of the best things that ever happened to me. She and Dad were the only two people I felt like I could be myself around.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said, sinking down into my seat. I wasn’t sure what consequences I’d face for today, but I was grateful that occasionally, my abilities allowed me to do something that made a difference.

  When we got home, I headed upstairs to take a bath. Normally, I was a shower kind of girl, but I didn’t think that would go over well with my new back injury. Dad got busy with dinner in the kitchen, whistling a tune I didn’t recognize.

  The bath water was soothing. It eased some of the pain shooting through my back, allowing me to relax. Too soon, Dad called out to let me know dinner was ready. I hurried as best as I could to get dressed and headed down to the kitchen.

  We sat across from each other at our small table with large plates of baked ziti in front of us. After a few minutes, Dad was first to break the silence.

  “You feeling okay? You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight. I’m sure your back is pretty sore. “