Gifted by H. A. Swain Page A

you’re all sadly mistaken! I’m smarter than all of you combined.”
    â€œOr just greedier,” I call after him.
    He spins around and opens his arms wide as if to absorb my insult. “That’s right! I’m a greedy man! But I’m doing the best I can for this family. So just you remember this, Orpheus.” He skulks toward the screen, poking at the air. “You are nothing without me. Do you understand?” He shoves his finger in the camera lens. “Nothing but a piece of crap on the bottom of my shoe. And I’m tired of you mooching off of me. You come to my office right now. I don’t want you seen in public until we fix this Buzz debacle.”
    â€œNo way,” I tell him. “I’m not coming there. I have plans with Arabella.”
    â€œCancel them,” he growls. “Cancel everything. I made you an appointment. You’re going in for an ASA tomorrow.”
    For a moment, I’m speechless. I sit and stare at him, trying to process what he just said. Finally, I blurt out, “No. I won’t do it. It’s my body. My brain. I have a say in my future.”
    â€œAs long as you’re under my roof and I’m footing the bills, your body, your brain, and your future belong to me!” Dad declares.
    â€œFine,” I tell him. “Then I won’t be under your roof anymore!” I disconnect.
    Since I can’t go home and I don’t dare show up in the Distract with this much Buzz going on, I tell the Cicada to land while I figure out what to do. The car leaves our flight platoon and swirls off the SkyPath, looking for an empty space among the blanket of lights sprawling from the Distract center all the way out here on the edges of the City. On the WindScreen map I see that we’re approaching the Alibaba E-Gaming Arena parking lot, a vast expanse of blacktop surrounding a 100,000-person dome. When we touch down, I call Mom.
    Her beautiful face fills my WindScreen. The camera is still kind to her. “Calm down, Orpheus,” she says when I tell her what Dad did. “Just take a deep breath.” She inhales long and loud then closes her eyes and lets the air go slowly like a leaking tire.
    â€œMom!” I yell so her eyes pop open. “Breathing is not going to help me right now. What am I going to do?”
    â€œYou’re overreacting!” She smiles sweetly. “Your whole life is in front of you. What I would give to be your age again! So much to experience…”
    â€œMom! Are you even listening to me? He scheduled me for an ASA.”
    â€œDoesn’t surprise me,” she says with a snort that disrupts her calm composure.
    â€œAnd who’s talking to the media?” I ask, bewildered. “I never told anyone I didn’t want an ASA. I hadn’t even made up my mind yet.”
    â€œYes, you had, darling,” Mom says. “I could tell. You didn’t want that life.”
    â€œYou only hear what you want to hear,” I tell her and look out the window while I sulk for a few seconds. Cars are beginning to enter the lot. I check my WindScreen feed and see the Dota 26 Playoffs start in an hour. Soon this place will be crawling with humanity like everyplace nearby. I sigh and turn back to my mom. “Anyway, I need a place to stay. If I show up at home, he’ll drag me off to surgery tomorrow.”
    Just then, Chester struts past behind Mom’s sofa. He’s bare-chested, as usual. Sometimes I wonder if the man owns any shirts. When he sees me on Mom’s screen, he stops and leans over her shoulder so his stupid face takes up half my WindScreen. “What’s this, a Plute pity party?”
    â€œShush, Chester,” says Mom. “Harold has upset Orpheus.”
    â€œBoo-hoo,” he whines. “Daddy won’t buy you the latest flying car?”
    â€œShove it, Chester,” I say. “This doesn’t concern you.”
    â€œI think it does