nothing new.
I don’t even know what I was thinking.
Out of boredom and a sort of desperate need to think about anything else, I Googled: “Gifted.” Results were so not what I was looking for. Then I searched “special powers.” Wikipedia brought the giggles, but since I didn’t think I was dealing with the X-Men , I hit the backspace button.
Finally, I came across a website dedicated to real accounts of superpowers. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the link and started reading. Things like clairvoyance, precognition, the ability to look into the past, rapid learning, super-speed, telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinetics, memory removal, dream manipulation, and on and on. There was nothing on bringing back the dead or a “toxic touch” syndrome. All these years I’d never really considered the idea of Olivia having “superpowers,” but there was no doubt she was gifted, and so were the other people in the house.
Me? I was cursed.
Yawning, I scanned the rest of the page. Curiosity got the best of me and I typed in “The Facility.” After several pages of nonsense, I gave up. I don’t know why I’d thought some crazy research-slash-kid-stealing institute would have a website.
Weary, I turned the computer off and picked up my sketchpad. Several attempts at drawing ended in failure. Everything came across wrong, uneven. I ripped the pages off one by one and tossed them to the floor. All the while my brain kept spitting out questions that had no answers. Tossing the pad on the desk, I stood and glanced around the room. The drapes covering the balcony doors stirred as the air kicked on.
The flimsy material billowed out further. I reached out and caught the drapes. Outside, thick clouds rolled through the night sky. Only a fine sliver of moonlight hit the balcony, casting shadows of the nearby trees. But something looked strange about the shadows near the balcony door. Frowning, I leaned closer and peered through the glass.
One of the shadows appeared way too thick, too solid—and way too tall.
My fingers slid away from the curtain. Then the shadow moved.
I jerked back from the door, tripping over the chair I’d been sitting in. I caught myself on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the door.
By the time I found the courage to look again, there was nothing on the other side of the door or anyone on the balcony. I double-checked that the door was locked—a pointless precaution, but it made me feel better. I climbed into bed and lay down on my side, clutching the blankets to my chin. My eyes stayed on the balcony doors.
It was a long time before my heart would calm down enough so I could fall back asleep.
Chapter 9
I felt like a ghost.
Gabe, the blond guy who’d thrown me across the room telekinetically, left the room if I walked in. The twins, Phoebe and Parker, just flat out refused to acknowledge my existence. Never in my life had I felt more like a loser—and that was saying something. By the time Cromwell basically ordered me to the kitchen, I was grateful. At least someone wanted to talk to me.
Once there, I found myself sitting in the same spot I had two days ago, but this time Hayden was with us. He wasn’t talking much since he was busy shoving a foot-long sub in his mouth.
“I wanted to discuss the school situation. You’re already registered and set to go tomorrow,” Cromwell said.
I watched Hayden. He ate amazingly fast, and he was sloppier than Olivia. Pieces of tomato and turkey fell to the plate, along with globs of mayonnaise and mustard.
“At no time are you allowed to discuss any of our gifts with the outsiders.”
“Yeah, I think I already know what will happen if I do,” I snapped.
Cromwell sighed. “Ember, I’m sorry about what happened to your friend. However, you left me with no other option.”
“Adam didn’t know anything,” I said for the hundredth time.
Cromwell folded his arms on the table. “I will not continue to discuss this with you, Ember. But do
I don’t even know what I was thinking.
Out of boredom and a sort of desperate need to think about anything else, I Googled: “Gifted.” Results were so not what I was looking for. Then I searched “special powers.” Wikipedia brought the giggles, but since I didn’t think I was dealing with the X-Men , I hit the backspace button.
Finally, I came across a website dedicated to real accounts of superpowers. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the link and started reading. Things like clairvoyance, precognition, the ability to look into the past, rapid learning, super-speed, telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinetics, memory removal, dream manipulation, and on and on. There was nothing on bringing back the dead or a “toxic touch” syndrome. All these years I’d never really considered the idea of Olivia having “superpowers,” but there was no doubt she was gifted, and so were the other people in the house.
Me? I was cursed.
Yawning, I scanned the rest of the page. Curiosity got the best of me and I typed in “The Facility.” After several pages of nonsense, I gave up. I don’t know why I’d thought some crazy research-slash-kid-stealing institute would have a website.
Weary, I turned the computer off and picked up my sketchpad. Several attempts at drawing ended in failure. Everything came across wrong, uneven. I ripped the pages off one by one and tossed them to the floor. All the while my brain kept spitting out questions that had no answers. Tossing the pad on the desk, I stood and glanced around the room. The drapes covering the balcony doors stirred as the air kicked on.
The flimsy material billowed out further. I reached out and caught the drapes. Outside, thick clouds rolled through the night sky. Only a fine sliver of moonlight hit the balcony, casting shadows of the nearby trees. But something looked strange about the shadows near the balcony door. Frowning, I leaned closer and peered through the glass.
One of the shadows appeared way too thick, too solid—and way too tall.
My fingers slid away from the curtain. Then the shadow moved.
I jerked back from the door, tripping over the chair I’d been sitting in. I caught myself on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the door.
By the time I found the courage to look again, there was nothing on the other side of the door or anyone on the balcony. I double-checked that the door was locked—a pointless precaution, but it made me feel better. I climbed into bed and lay down on my side, clutching the blankets to my chin. My eyes stayed on the balcony doors.
It was a long time before my heart would calm down enough so I could fall back asleep.
Chapter 9
I felt like a ghost.
Gabe, the blond guy who’d thrown me across the room telekinetically, left the room if I walked in. The twins, Phoebe and Parker, just flat out refused to acknowledge my existence. Never in my life had I felt more like a loser—and that was saying something. By the time Cromwell basically ordered me to the kitchen, I was grateful. At least someone wanted to talk to me.
Once there, I found myself sitting in the same spot I had two days ago, but this time Hayden was with us. He wasn’t talking much since he was busy shoving a foot-long sub in his mouth.
“I wanted to discuss the school situation. You’re already registered and set to go tomorrow,” Cromwell said.
I watched Hayden. He ate amazingly fast, and he was sloppier than Olivia. Pieces of tomato and turkey fell to the plate, along with globs of mayonnaise and mustard.
“At no time are you allowed to discuss any of our gifts with the outsiders.”
“Yeah, I think I already know what will happen if I do,” I snapped.
Cromwell sighed. “Ember, I’m sorry about what happened to your friend. However, you left me with no other option.”
“Adam didn’t know anything,” I said for the hundredth time.
Cromwell folded his arms on the table. “I will not continue to discuss this with you, Ember. But do
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