by Alana Siegel
“Give me your hands, Olivia,” he whispered. I did what he asked. I met his eyes as I turned and raised my hands toward him.
He cupped both of my hands in his. Instantly, I felt the pulse in his touch. It was similar to the sensation I felt when he held my hand in Biology class, but now the feeling that passed from his body to mine was calmer. It was still a rush of excitement, but it was controlled and content.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he raised our hands to his lips and blew hot air into his own hands that were cupped around mine. I was warm within seconds. It felt like the summer sun was beaming down on me, except that it traveled deep beneath my skin. It tingled through my body like Justin was sending it from my core.
He watched me carefully. I sat quietly as he raised our hands to his lips, took another breath, and continued to blow hot air. A blue haze surrounded us. The warmth from the touch of his skin calmed me. My teeth stopped chattering.
He brought our hands up to his lips one more time, but instead of blowing hot air, his lips gently touched my fingers. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I felt the warm caress and longed to feel his lips on mine.
When he broke away, he had that half grin again, but this time it looked like a smirk.
“Not so easy to fight your Gift when I'm using mine, is it? Now you know how I feel just being in the same room with you, everyday,” he said. I was confused by his change of topic. I thought his display of affection was real, but maybe he fooled me. Was he trying to prove that his Gift was stronger than mine? That each day was a fight against my irrational Gift?
My hands slipped out of his. I no longer felt warm and comforted. I stared at Justin with disbelief. He looked slightly confused at my actions.
“Don't tell me that you don't know. Everyone falls under your spell. I have to work hard against the urge to even touch you in every class we share,” he tried to explain. Did he think I used my Gift to trick him? He solidified what I feared all along. How can I decipher sincerity in people? Didn’t he realize that I wasn’t using my Gift tonight with him?
I wished I didn’t have this Gift. There was no spell; people were not pawns that I used at my leisure. I started gathering my bag.
“Don't pretend you didn't feel the sensation that passed between us,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. I was starting to get angry so I stood up and turned away.
“I'm going through the same thing you are, Olivia.” I turned around. He had not moved from his seat. His anger was misdirected. I looked into his sad eyes and realized this was the weight he carried on his shoulders. He felt the same way I did. He let very few people into his secret life, and tonight he let me see his Gift. It was a privilege he hadn’t allowed anyone else.
“Lucky me, right?” Justin made the words ooze with sarcasm. He bent forward on the bench, folded his hands, and leaned on his knees. I was silent and motionless as I tried to digest the overload of information. He wasn't angry with me and my Gift. He was trying to show that he felt the same way that I did, unsure of how to cope with the unwanted secret that was bestowed upon us.
“What exactly is your Gift?” I asked, treading slowly. He took out his pocketknife and flipped it around in his hands. The metal was shiny, without a single scratch.
Keeping his eyes and hands busy, he said, “I can affect the forces of nature.” He turned to see my reaction. I tilted my head and gave him a quizzical look. Accepting my response, he looked back at his knife. “I adjust the physical properties of an object, move the atoms, and play with gravity. It’s the easiest with liquids, like water.” He stopped playing with his pocketknife abruptly. I thought he might have regretted the words that slipped out of his mouth, but then he focused on my eyes and said, “And blood.”
The explanation sunk in. I understood the sensation I felt when he touched me. The science was too technical for me, but in simple terms, he was controlling the flow of blood through my body. He could feel my heart beat quicken when he made me nervous or excited.
He watched to see if I was grossed out. He seemed relieved when I looked intrigued.
“The trick is to make it seem as natural as possible,” he said, returning his attention to his pocketknife.
I softened and asked, “Have you always known I had a Gift?” It was the next question I decided was worthy of asking, and I thought it might ease the tension if I steered the topic away from himself. He already shared so much with me tonight. Justin finally rose from his seat.
“Probably before you even knew.”
“And the others?” He nodded his head.
“But you didn’t want to join the Gifted Program.” I said it as a statement rather than a question. He stopped walking toward me.
The features on his face became very serious. He was thoughtful about his words. “To me it is not a Gift. It is just one more thing that makes me feel different from everyone else. That’s why I treasure my friendship with Cliff. Being a normal high school kid with him calms me. He fits in with every crowd, and I just want to fit in.”
I never questioned it before. When were we given the choice? I had accepted the Gifted life that Ms. Magos explained as my future, until Justin.
“Then why did you join?” I asked. He started to speak, and then he paused. He stood facing me with the same expression as always, removed and unaffected. But I looked closer now, and I could see the emotion swimming through his eyes. I attempted a smile.
He reached over and grabbed the piece of hair that was falling into my face and slowly put it behind my ear. It sent a warm tingle down my spine that made my breath catch and my cheeks redden.
“Because of you.”
* * * *
Chapter Eighteen: An Unexpected Visitor
The weather vacillated between extremes, becoming cold and rainy one day and smoldering hot and dry the next. Without a valid explanation, the weathermen and women blamed global warming. I knew better.
The one constant element was the electricity that created a heaviness in the air. Maybe it was paranoia, but I felt like we were in the presence of others with Gifts, and it put me on edge. I constantly had my guard up. Jaime and I worried that it was a warning of things to come, but we had been unsuccessful in getting Ms. Magos alone to ask.
I met Jaime in the hallway between classes. Standing with our backs against the lockers and our eyes scanning the people who passed by, we discussed our own theories about the change in climate. Jaime usually did the research and used me as a sounding board to bounce off ideas. Despite our efforts, we weren’t any closer to finding answers.
Jaime absentmindedly cradled her bracelet and said, “I googled the name Prometheus last night to see if I could find any news articles.” She spoke in a whisper since we weren't the only two people in the hall.
I held the charm on my necklace in my right hand. It recently began changing temperature quickly and was uncomfortable when it pressed against my chest. It might seem silly, but I refused to take it off. It was a part of me, and removing it felt like removing an arm.
Jaime continued, “Prometheus popped up everywhere. In the seventies, he was one of the wealthiest people in the world, but his behavior was erratic and obsessive compulsive. He was known to sort his peas by size before eating them.” Jaime paused to give me a look of disbelief. I reciprocated her reaction.
“It gets worse. Apparently Prometheus was a collector of eclectic things, spending obscene amounts of money to own unique objects.” Jaime looked pained, and I had a feeling she hadn’t delivered the bad news yet. I nodded for her to go on.
“When he was asked how his multi-million dollar acquisition of celebrity-used Kleenex tissues compared to his other collections, he responded by saying the future beholds his greatest Gifted collection.” She paused for dramatic effect. My body shook as the chills crept up my spine.
“It can’t possibly be the same man that Ms. Magos was talking about,” I tried to reason with her. She looked skeptical.
“Maybe he is or ma
ybe he isn’t. We don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. While I wasn't ruling anything out, Jaime's logic didn't sit well with me.
“I’ve asked Ms. Magos to have another secret meeting so we can ask her our questions,” Jaime said as if Ms. Magos would make everything normal again.
Jaime turned to put a book in her locker, and I watched Justin enter Ms. Magos’s classroom. Just before he passed through the doorway, he looked back at me. Other than these few glances, he was once again detached.
My night with him kept replaying in my mind. It was clear to me why our paths crossed so often in the past. He had done it on purpose. I just didn't understand what I meant to him now. Why didn't he tell me how he felt months ago, and why have things gone back to the way they were? I hoped that when he was ready, he would let me in again.
After hearing Justin’s view on the Gifted Program and Jaime’s research, I was feeling less enthusiastic about attending Ms. Magos’s meetings. The secret was bigger than a few high school students, but that didn’t stop Jaime from feeling like we needed to gear up for battle as protectors of that secret. She strategized the entire walk to Ms. Magos’s class, and I was happy to let her take the lead.
The corners of Ms. Magos’s mouth were angled upward, but the smile was not reflected in her eyes. In fact, her eyes darted to the back of the room each time she turned away from the board to face us. She was not filled with her usual ease and charm, and it was making the whole class nervous.
Mr. Dimon, the superintendent of the school, appeared to be the cause of her discomfort, and he was sitting in the back of her classroom. At the beginning of class he gave a curt nod as she introduced him to us. He was wearing a severe-looking black suit with a white button-down shirt and a grey tie. I didn’t know the requirements for being a school’s superintendent, but he looked like he fit the bill. He was intimidating, and he watched Ms. Magos like a hawk.
When Max walked into class three minutes late, Ms. Magos’s smile completely disappeared. She paused in her lecture to give him a look that said “today-is-not-the-day.” For once he walked right to his desk and opened his notebook without saying a word.
After she finished writing her notes on the board for the class to copy, she sat on the edge of her desk with her hands grasping the metal rim.
“Whose turn is it to read last night’s homework essay? Let's see,” she said, scanning the room. Everyone’s eyes were focused on their papers, trying not to make eye contact with Ms. Magos. “Chelsea, enlighten us.” The whole class gave a sigh of relief that their name wasn’t called, except for Chelsea. She gathered her essay from her desk, fumbling with the pages. It was entertaining and maybe even endearing to get a glimpse of Chelsea without her usual confidence.
“Go ahead Chelsea, the topic was to discuss an influential person during a civil rights movement,” Ms. Magos hurried her along. Ms. Magos didn't relax despite the transfer of attention to Chelsea.
Attempting to smooth her composure, Chelsea cleared her throat before she began, “Susan Brownell Anthony, born February 15, 1820, was a prominent civil rights leader who played a pivotal role in the nineteenth century introduction of women's suffrage into the United States.” Chelsea barely finished her first sentence before Ms. Magos started shaking her head.
“Stop. Where is your description of the civil rights movement?” Ms. Magos stood up from her perch on the desk in order to pace in front of the class with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I'll discuss the events leading up to the nineteenth amendment in the second paragraph, if you'll let me keep reading,” Chelsea snapped, obviously annoyed that Ms. Magos had criticism before she finished the first paragraph.
“If you picked the woman's suffrage movement, perhaps your essay should have been about Elizabeth Cady Stanton,” Ms. Magos said with an insincere calm. Chelsea’s impatience was building.
“They put Susan B. Anthony's face on a coin! Doesn’t that prove her importance?” Chelsea's face was hot with anger. I gave a sideways glance to Mr. Dimon. His face was expressionless as he watched the showdown.
“You are correct. The United States government put her face on a coin, but since when do you always agree with the system's decisions?” Ms. Magos asked, circling back to sit in the seat behind her desk.
“How are you able to judge my supporting arguments if you won't even let me read the rest of my paper? Is this really the best method of teaching?” Chelsea fought back, gesturing with both hands in front of her. “I seriously question your ability to teach and refuse to sit in this class and subject myself to another word.” Chelsea said this with conviction as she gathered her books and stormed out of the class slamming the door on the way out. Jaime followed her a minute later.
I peeked at the superintendent in the back of the room. His face was like stone, and he didn't say a word. He just scribbled in his notebook.
Ms. Magos made a strangled noise like a nervous giggle before she regained her composure. Her intense questioning was expected when you were chosen to read your essay out loud, but most of the time, she was more tactful.
The rest of class time was just as tense. Students were asked to read their papers, and Ms. Magos tore each one apart. Jaime and Chelsea never returned. After a grueling forty-three minutes, the bell finally rang.
Ms. Magos waited until Mr. Dimon had left the room and then called me to her desk. I could feel the beads of sweat on my brow and the nausea build in my stomach. When I reached her desk, the plastic smile was back on her face.
“Olivia, I would like you to join me for a meeting after the homecoming game tomorrow.” She emphasized the word meeting to let me know it would be about the Gifted Program, and I should keep it a secret. “You will be attending the game, right?” She asked me with a fake sweetness.
“Of course,” I squeaked. Without waiting for her to ask another question, I turned to leave. I was relieved to be out in the hall. It was mostly clear since the other kids already made it to their next class. I walked hurriedly away from Ms. Magos’s classroom.
“Hey Olivia, can you wait up? I want to talk to you for a second.” Max’s fingers brushed my arm as he caught up with me. My arm tingled where his fingers had touched my skin. A million reasons to continue walking passed through my mind, and I didn’t listen to a single one. I turned to him and braced myself for a jeering comment.
He looked down at the floor and ran his fingers through his hair before saying, “I, umm, wanted to say I’m sorry.” He uncomfortably pulled at a loose string from the stitching on his shirt. “I’m sorry for the way things ended between us and how I’ve treated you since then. Liv, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.” Was this a joke? I said nothing as I stared at him in disbelief.
“Come on, Liv, don’t look at me like that. Being a part of the Gifted has changed things. It’s nice to know there are others out there who are going through the same thing that I am. I was hoping we could be friends. What do you say?” Friends? I let the idea sink in for a minute. Didn’t I just say how alone I felt because I wasn’t able to discuss what I was going through with my own best friend?
I wanted Helen to be my confidant, but I was sworn to keep it a secret from her. Jaime wanted to play detective and heroine, and I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to be Gifted. I was hopeful after my night on the bleachers with Justin that a relationship could grow between us, yet so far it had been a letdown. Not so long ago, Max had been someone I could count on. He used to read my reactions and ease my fears.
I gave him a crooked smile and said, “Sure, we can be friends.” For a moment, I was my old self before I had a Gift and when I was romanced by every word Max spoke to me. It made my insides melt and my knees go weak.
“Great! Well, as your friend, I’m telling you not to see Ms. Magos after the homecoming game,” he said very seriously. I took a step back and looked at him hesitantly.
“Why?” I asked.
He took a step closer to me and put his hand
, once again, on my arm. “Just trust me,” he said. This time the touch didn't tingle with sweet memories. He shook it to make his point. Before I could grasp what was happening, Max was pushed into the row of lockers across the hall. Justin hovered over him, glaring down.
Max's legs crumpled under him, and he quivered on the floor. Justin wasn't touching him, but he stood over him. I had never seen Max shaken up before. He was usually the one causing terror.
The air around Justin was such a dark shade of navy blue that it felt like we were surrounded by billowing smoke. I could feel the heat and buzz exuding from his blue skin. His face was fierce and his jaw was clenched tight, just like his fists.
“What are you doing? Back off, man,” Max said, taking a big gulp of air and pressing his back against the locker. His eyes were locked on Justin's right hand.
Suddenly realizing the intensity of the situation, I circled Justin to get between the two guys.
“This is silly; both of you need to calm down,” I said and put both of my hands on Justin's chest to push him away. The hum in the air was electrifying and it shot through my body when I leaned into him. He kept his eyes on Max and didn't move back an inch.
I shoved with all my might against Justin's body and fell backwards when he didn't budge. Then I gasped when I saw he was holding his pocketknife in his right hand. I immediately backed up to protect Max.
“Justin!” I shouted and tried to cover as much of Max as possible. Finally, Justin withdrew his eyes from Max and focused on me.
“I've watched him verbally abuse you and toy with your emotions for too long. I refuse to sit by any longer,” he said in a surprisingly even tone.
Feeling falsely safe behind me, Max decided this was the right time to chime in. “Is that what this is about? You fell in love with Olivia's Gift? Put down your knife, and I'll show you a fair fight.” His red hue was filling the space around me.
