by Alana Siegel
Every few seconds a drop of rusty brown water would escape from the faucet and drip to the bottom. The tiny action caused Justin‘s eyelids to flutter in annoyance, like they were massive rain drops obscuring his view. His mouth, in its usual close-lipped line, twitched with each twist he made. Despite his adjustments, the sink still leaked and curiously, each drop irked him.
It looked painful, like it was his own blood slowly dripping from his body, leaking from his soul. He worked more passionately with each loss of water.
It was fascinating. His fingers moved urgently with expertise, paying close attention to each twist and turn. I watched his face, his forehead creased in complete concentration. His almond-shaped eyes were focused on the sink and each drop of brown colored water.
For a moment he lost his air of calm, his façade of nonchalance. The muscles in his arms flexed with his attempt to stop the leak. A blue aura buzzed around him.
The water from the sink wouldn’t stop dripping and so Justin didn’t stop tinkering. He couldn’t stop the leak. The water was spilling off his skin. I could feel his intensity, his need to make it stop.
I reached over toward the sink. I wasn’t sure how I planned to help, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch as he emptied before me.
A ray of light reflected off his knife as he contorted it in all directions to work on the sink. The metal had a distinct shine to it, like it was meant to be a piece of art rather than a tool. Justin slipped under the sink. I saw the twisting of his knife and heard the scratching of the metal against the nut and bolt. He reappeared in seconds and persisted, working on the sink from above.
A strange sensation that emanated from Justin washed over me. He was channeling more than just his attention toward the sink. I could feel the energy passing from his hands. The closer I got, the more I could hear his heartbeat speeding up and his breathing getting heavy.
I moved my hand toward the knobs. Justin never glanced over, never stopped trying to end the flow of water. I inched closer. The faucet was within reach.
He suddenly paused from his work. He closed his eyes and remained completely still. I felt the buzz in the air, reaching toward the sink. Metal pipes groaned as nuts, bolts, and other metal parts were moved somewhere in the plumbing below. A moment later the water stopped dripping from the faucet. It was a miracle. That sink had probably been leaking for twenty years. Now all you could hear was the smooth swoosh of the water in the pipes.
From far away, I heard the sound of shuffling feet. I barely noticed, but Justin did. Before my hand actually reached the sink, he clamped his free hand down on mine in order to stop my trance-like movement. I was so overwhelmed that the sink was miraculously and fully functioning that I hadn't even realized I was still reaching toward it.
As soon as Justin's skin touched mine, the pull to the sink instantly vanished. Instead, I felt boundless power surrounding my hand, coming from his. The heat rushed through me in waves. All the passion I saw on Justin’s face spilled into my body. It was exhilarating. I wanted to feel more, but Mr. Stackhouse had reached our desk to ask us a question. With herculean effort, I looked away from Justin’s hand grasping mine.
I studied Justin’s face as he answered the question. As far as the outside world could tell, Justin had put the wall back up. The creases in his face were smoothed away. His eyes looked distant and slightly bored once again.
How was he doing it? To everyone around him, he was unconcerned and detached. But I was sitting next to him, feeling a whole different pulse coming from his body. I didn’t move my hand out from under his. I didn’t want to. I had never shared this deep a connection with anyone before.
I stared at his face, but he never met my eyes. I don’t think he meant to let me in, but I wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of me either. My emotions swirled with the energy he passed through my body as I looked back at hour hands.
Someone shouted across the room, finally tearing my eyes away from our hands. A geyser of water burst from the sink at Max’s lab station. The pressure was strong and the water burst high into the air in a glorious arch. Soaked and furious, Max dragged his attention away from the window for the first time all day just to scowl at us. Justin sat back with his usual bored stare, only moving an inch to return Cliff’s wink.
Mr. Stackhouse ran up the aisle to stop the flood and Justin released my hand, far too soon to suit me. The energy disappeared instantly. I felt emptied.
I continued to stare at him, yet he never returned my gaze. As I sat in silence thinking about what had just transpired I realized he too had a Gift.
* * * *
Chapter Fourteen: We Meet Again
There wasn’t a cloud in the golden orange sky. The sun had just set and the moon was a faint glow. Standing next to Jaime outside the school, I thought it was an eerie setting that only added to my disconcerting feeling about the night ahead. The note we received in class from Ms. Magos was written in her crisp handwriting and invited us to her classroom for the second meeting of the Gifted Program. Ms. Magos seemed well-informed of the paranormal activities that were going on at Pandora High School. Unfortunately, I wasn’t extremely excited to meet with her to discuss them.
When she originally introduced the concept of the Gifted, she made it seem like an honor to be part of this select group of spectacular beings. To be honest, since the day she told us, I’ve never felt more like an outcast. Instead of feeling blessed to have special abilities and be part of a group, I felt awkward and alienated.
Jaime and I walked down the dark hallway, and I could tell that she was also anxious about the meeting. Not only was the supernatural concept unsettling, the path to Ms. Magos’s classroom was lonely with no one to guide us. I pulled my books closer to my chest as protection.
Jaime reacted to the darkness as well. A light scent of lavender reached my nostrils. Keeping her guard up for potential danger, her steps no longer made any noise. I could only hear my own sneakers. Her head turned left and right, scanning our surroundings as best she could. Seeing her on edge made me feel extra fretful, and without a Gift like hers, I felt extra helpless.
I kept my eyes focused on the blurry outline of Ms. Magos’s door at the end of the hall. Listening to my own breathing, I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. A light padding sound began behind us. It only took us a second to realize it was the sound of someone’s shoes thumping on the linoleum floor and it picked up as they came behind us. Adrenaline kicked in. Jaime grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I was already breathing heavy. My heart pounded against my chest. Air whooshed around me as someone slid past us, blocking our entrance.
“Not so fast when we’re on a level playing field, Forte?” Max asked as he leaned on the door to Ms. Magos’s classroom. I let out a breath of relief when I saw it was only him. Jaime never relaxed her attack stance.
“That was hardly a level playing field,” I said, not bothering to hide the exasperation in my tone.
“Come on, Liv. That’s just semantics,” he said, but the smug smile faltered. “How’s the new jock boyfriend? I heard he drew little hearts on the inside of his helmet and dedicated each touchdown to you,” he teased me with his arms crossed over his chest and a glint in his eye. Back to his old self, I guess he was done brooding and silently hating the world.
“I should have figured you would go for the cookie-cutter boy. This one fits the mold, right?” Max asked maliciously. Jaime pushed him aside and growled, “Grow up,” as we slid around him and entered the classroom.
Ms. Magos’s closet wasn’t open, but the books had been pushed aside. Once we entered the storage area, her private meeting room was in view.
“Oh good, you made it.” Ms. Magos popped her head out from the room in the back and ushered us in. As I passed through the closet, I saw all the text books with globes on the cover scattered on the floor, while the other books were in neat piles organized by subject.
&nb
sp; I tried to avoid Chelsea's piercing eyes as we walked across the room. Clearly annoyed, she sat on one side of the room, picking the nail polish off her nails. I knew she was only here to retain possession of Max. The meeting hadn’t even started yet, and he was already caught, red-handed, talking to me. Looking somewhat guilty, Max walked over to join her. I found a small bench on the opposite side and settled my books in my lap.
“Welcome to our second meeting of the Gifted Program. We have a new member of our club today. Everyone say hello to Justin,” Ms. Magos announced. My heart fluttered and my face flushed as I snapped my head in his direction. This newest addition wasn’t just anyone, this was Justin Benz.
I was so worried about being dragged into Max and Chelsea’s drama that I hadn't seen him sitting there. He had my full attention now. He sat tipped back, two legs of the chair off the floor, with the same expressionless look he wore in class. I hadn't seen him since Biology class, but that didn’t stop me from reliving our passionate connection continuously in my head.
Ms. Magos broke through my thoughts, “Next topic. The gossip around school is that gym class was very interesting this week. From what I heard, Olivia charmed Cliff Adams, and then Max and Jaime had a friendly competition before a thunderstorm interrupted,” she said with a twisted smile that was a little off-putting. I guess she didn’t hear about my near death experience. Max was digging his pen into a groove in the desk, avoiding eye contact.
“Sounds like you were all successful in practicing your Gifts,” she added as she clapped her hands together with a little more emphasis than was necessary.
Wait, she said we were all successful in practicing our Gifts. “We don't know what Chelsea's Gift is,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. Shrinking into the bench, I prepared myself for Chelsea's steely stare, but it never came.
Instead, she sighed and adjusted her headband. As she did, I realized her silver headband had the same braided links as my necklace. Halfway across was a flat piece of shiny metal with a triangle etched into it. I was wonderstruck. How was it possible that I never noticed her headband before?
I gaped and stared at the beautiful object in her hair until she started fading like the fuzzy reception on an old television. The expression on her face was blank in concentration. Bits and pieces of her popped in and out of view, and I could smell a hint of vanilla in the air. After a minute she had disappeared completely. We sat in silence gazing at the vacant area.
Chelsea broke the silence and spoke to the group, “I try not stay invisible too long because it is emotionally draining to watch Max flirting with Olivia when he thinks I’m not looking,” she said, her voice echoing from an empty space. Max snapped to attention and the two began to do what they do best, argue.
“Yes, Max, I watched your gym class. What is wrong with you?” Chelsea asked. “Besides the flirting, playing with lightning is not a game. Someone could have gotten hurt.” We couldn't see Chelsea's face, but her increasingly angry tone made it obvious she was mad.
“Chels, I told you! I was pissed off that Jaime ruined my fun with that dumb jock and that caused some lightning, that’s all. You know my Gift can be irrational.” He emphasized his point to the blank spot where we all assumed Chelsea was sitting.
“You are lucky Jaime stepped in. You were going to kill your precious Olivia!” Chelsea’s voice boomed throughout the back room.
He turned to me, “I wasn’t trying to kill you, Liv.” Max was gesturing wildly as he stressed his frustration.
Sensing our discomfort, Jaime stepped in to ease the situation. It did not matter if it was physical or verbal discord, she was always right there, ready to mediate and dissipate any disruption. “Maybe some of us need to have a little more control when using our Gifts. You could have seriously hurt Olivia,” she said. Max offered no comeback.
“Jaime didn’t save me. Justin did,” I whispered, and everyone turned to look at me.
“He did?” Max asked, incredulously.
“Yes, this is a great discussion. Justin, why don't you share with the group? Tell us about your Gift,” Ms. Magos said, looking at Justin encouragingly. Justin saw everyone's eyes turn and focus on him. His facial expression barely changed as he glanced at each of us, but it was just enough to show he was uncomfortable.
“Justin, sitting in silence in the back of the room isn't participating and you are required to participate,” Ms. Magos told him. He still showed no reaction.
“I've heard your Gift is quite powerful and it would be useful to the rest of us to hear what it is,” she tried one more time. I felt like she was pushing a little too desperately. We waited in silence for Justin's response, but he wouldn't take the bait. He sat expressionless.
“It doesn’t matter what it is. Olivia’s Gift is stronger than all of ours. Apparently, no one can refuse her charm,” Chelsea said it low and angry under her breath, but we knew the comment was meant for Max. Somehow, it was a backhanded compliment to me.
“Not everyone is touched by my Gift. It doesn’t affect Justin,” I said. Just like Jamie, I was trying to ease the tension in the room.
“You’re wrong. I just fight it,” Justin said, barely raising his voice. Had I heard him correctly? I glanced at him quickly, saw the same non-reaction he always projects, and glanced away. Did he really find the idea of me being near him so revolting? I remembered the connection we shared in the lab. So why was he fighting my Gift?
“Okay Chelsea, can you show yourself to the group again?” Ms. Magos asked. Chelsea slowly appeared in solid form.
“You smell like vanilla when you use your Gift,” Jaime noted. I inhaled through my nose and recognized the familiar scent.
“If our Gift is an extension of ourselves, then my Gift makes sense. The adrenaline rush when people are in danger comes from my innate need to protect others. And Max’s Gift creates unruly storms to match his impulsive behavior and strength. But why does Chelsea become invisible?” Jaime analyzed.
“Because in comparison to Olivia, I am invisible,” Chelsea stated sourly.
“I don’t think so, Chelsea. I’m pretty sure your Gift is about something bigger than your relationship with Max. Tell us why you can become invisible,” Ms. Magos prodded. Chelsea stared at her in disbelief. Ms. Magos was asking her to share personal details.
Chelsea rolled her eyes, but finally gave in, “Invisibility is my shield to hide from my fears, just like my wit and sarcasm,” she said to Ms. Magos like she was doing her a favor. Then, she continued, “How about Olivia’s Gift?” All eyes were on me. I was being thrust into the line of fire. Embarrassingly, I didn’t know how I ended up with my Gift. It didn’t make any sense to me.
“Olivia’s Gift emphasizes her charm and charisma. She draws people in with her natural goodness and likability. When she uses her Gift, it echoes inside others. Believing she is pure and admirable, she can easily persuade them to respond to her beck and call,” Max responded for me. He kept his eyes on Ms. Magos the whole time, like his answer was nothing more than a response to a question in class. Ms. Magos looked uneasy.
“Yes, you are correct,” she said, awkwardly. Max continued to stare at her and for a second, I felt like he was accusing her. Of what, I wasn't sure since I assumed she already knew how my Gift worked. I'm sure Meta agents met plenty of other people like me.
“Okay, I think it’s time for some real practice. I would like you to perform your Gift one at a time in front of the group. We can all help to guide and coach each other,” she directed, turning away from Max.
Each one of us stood in front of the room, attempting to show our Gifts, except for Justin, who refused to participate. Ms. Magos gave pointers on concentration and execution. We all chimed in with minor comments when we could.
Beginning with Max, we watched sparks of lightning fly across the room while Ms. Magos sent bursts of water to block them all from hitting the furniture or ceiling. After a few saves, Ms. Magos was out of breath and quickly move
d on. She could tell that we were all scared to be close to the mini storm Max created in the small room.
Jaime’s presentation was also short. Since no one was in danger, she was unable to turn her Gift on. Ms. Mangos told her that she could fuel her Gift herself if she practiced hard enough. Jaime promised that she would.
Ms. Magos paid particular attention to my Gift. Much to Chelsea’s dismay, Max was my guinea pig. I felt self-conscious with everyone watching, especially Justin. It didn't matter. I was so unfocused that nothing would happen when I tried to use my Gift.
Ms. Magos caught on and said, “I think that’s all the time we have for tonight. Everyone’s assignment this week is to learn to control your Gift. Rein it in, tame it, become the master of it.” I was exhausted when I left the Gifted Program that night.
* * * *
Chapter Fifteen: Cafeteria Conversations
Twisting my lock away from the sixteenth notch, I took a deep breath, turned around, and let it out as I dropped against my cold, metal locker. It was around noon the next day, and I was tired.
I spent the morning trying hard not to trigger my Gift. It was exactly the opposite of what Ms. Magos told us to practice. I did it anyway. I was in survival mode. My rationale was that if I learned how to turn it off, I would learn how to control it. I needed to escape the constant attention.
Jaime caught up with me as I zoned out against my locker. Rushing over, she said, “Olivia, you need to come with me, now.” I ignored her urgent tone. Through half-closed eyes, I saw Jaime wave her hands in front of my face. It was no use, I couldn’t focus on her.
She let out a frustrated grunt when I didn't pay attention. It was unusual for her to be impatient, and it should have made me focus, but instead I lackadaisically scanned the passing students around us, looking forward to the upcoming lunch period.
