I keep walking toward the truck, but the soft padding of my footsteps on the dirt and the plants and trees caressing me as I walk past fade as I get lost in my thoughts.
This is my first time coming into direct contact with other people like me. I’ll finally get the chance to get real, reliable information about us and it’s kind of exciting. Everything I know is pretty much what everyone normal already knows too. Most people have heard about various “gifts,” like the ability to turn invisible, to read people’s minds or emotions—those kinds of things. Every now and then, it pops up on the news: “Gifted invisible girl steals jewelry.” “Gifted Florida man beats up rival gang member using telekinesis.”
It’s never good. And they make sure to plaster “gifted” all over the article, big and bold, so everyone knows the perpetrator wasn’t anyone normal.
I don’t think people should use their gifts for bad things. However, normal people do bad things all the time too, but when it’s someone gifted, oh, that person is rotten to the core, overwhelmed with greed and power, cocky from their gift. But most gifted people aren’t like that. It isn’t something we can choose. If I had a choice, I never would have chosen this.
I rub my hands vigorously over my face, trying to break free from my thoughts. I’ve reached the truck. I can’t get lost in this rabbit hole right now. I have more important things to worry about, like Ron.
I open the passenger door, fighting with some small birch trees.
“Ron?” I call, stepping inside and sitting on the seat.
Nothing. She doesn’t even stir an inch.
I look down at my palms. I’m going to have to touch her, aren’t I?
I swallow hard and peer at her. She doesn’t seem to be injured, but she could have a concussion.
“Ron?” I say louder, into her ear. “Oh god, please wake up, Ron. I don’t want to touch you…”
Still nothing.
How long would it take them to pack up the camp? It’s probably been seven or eight minutes already since I left.
I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out a pair of black cotton gloves. I put them on, trying not to look at my hands as I did. I don’t like the look of the gloves. Plus, the summer heat is already making my hands clammy. I probably don’t even need them, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable laying a hand on Ron without them.
I grab her bare shoulders and heave her up off of the steering wheel so she’s sitting up. I shake her shoulders lightly.
“Ron! Wake up!”
Her head flops down in front of her, bringing her back off of the seat, hovering and swaying slightly.
I sigh. Why won’t she wake up? How much time has passed?
Then it hits me. Jayden woke me up with a slap. I’ve never slapped anyone before, but maybe that’s the only way.
I push her up against the seat again and put my hand by her cheek. I tap her cheek a couple times.
“Ron? Hello?”
I’ll have to do it harder I guess. My hand hovers there. I sigh again and close my eyes.
Just do it. Just do it.
I reel my hand back and hit her across the cheek, the impact silenced by the gloves.
Ron gasps and opens her eyes.
“Did you just slap me?” she asks, blinking rapidly.
“Yes, and I’m sorry, but there’s no time. We have to go now. I found them! Amaryllis!”
“The magic camp?”
“Yes, they aren’t far but we have to go now or they’ll leave without us.”
“Uh…” Ron rubs her temples. “Listen, Chrys, I…”
My heart sinks.
“I’m not like you, like you guys,” she says. “You know that.”
“So?”
“Well, don’t you think I might not be welcome there?”
“I asked and they… they said you might be able to stay.”
“Might.”
“Yeah.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Well… if you can’t, then I’ll leave too.”
Ron shakes her head. “Chrys, you’ve been dreaming of this. Just go and forget about me.”
“I could never do that!”
Ron sighs. “Honestly, I don’t want to go there. I’m kind of scared, you know?”
“I’m scared too. That’s why I want to go with you. We’ll have each other.”
She looks down at my hands, still in the black gloves, so noticeable against my bare forearm.
“What is your power?” she says quietly.
I pull off the gloves, breathing out shakily. I tuck them back into my pocket of my jeans.
“You can’t even tell me,” she says.
“It doesn’t matter because it’ll go away soon, once I get to the camp. So just come with me and I’ll get this thing erased and then we can leave together.”
“What if that’s just a rumor though? What if it can’t be erased?”
“It has to be true. It has to.”
“How about this then? I’ll hang out in that small town nearby and when it’s all done, you come by and give me a call and we’ll head out together.”
“But you can just come with me.”
“I can’t, Chrys. I’m sorry. But I’ll wait for you, okay? If things get hot in that town, I may have to leave but I’ll try to stay close by. You can always give me a call and I’ll let you know where I am, alright?”
I frown.
“Alright?” she says.
“Fine…”
“Good. Now go back there before they leave without you.”
“Ron, can’t you just—”
“Go. I’ll stay here for half an hour or so. If they’ve left, then come back here.”
She has that stern, motherly look in her eyes. Nothing I say can convince her, not when she looks at me like that.
Blinking back tears, I step out of the truck and push past the trees into the forest. I don’t close the
