I unlocked the door, stepped inside the house, and dropped my bag in the foyer. Jesse would deal with it if it got in his way.
I was concentrating hard on acting normal. I had spent the entire bus ride home from work trying to figure out how much I could get away with in public without people seeing me and wondering how the hell I was doing…whatever the hell it was that I was doing. I was shaking, and I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or electricity.
I walked quickly through the house and opened the back door, double-checking to make sure Jesse had cleaned up the plate he’d thrown. It was a little bit warmer today than it had been yesterday, but it still seemed gloomy. The cloudburst hadn’t done anything about the heavy cloud cover we’d had the past few weeks. Even with the grey cast to the light, though, the backyard looked beautiful.
I looked around, content with what I could see of my neighbours’ yards: almost nothing. That meant they couldn’t see anything in my yard.
That’s logical, right? I’m not going crazy?
I laughed aloud, letting out some of the stress from having discovered this amazing ability and then needing to keep it secret. Well, except at the park—but the cop probably didn’t see me using my powers to shoot lightning bolts out of my hand. And hell, if he did, he would have assumed something else had happened.
I started a fire, though. I wasn’t going crazy…I think.
If anything was an indicator of my going crazy, it would be that I was pretty sure I had superpowers. I was either a freak of nature or I was hallucinating.
Oh, well, enjoy it either way, right?
I stood in the middle of my admittedly small backyard and was really glad for the privacy fencing that my parents—army types that they were, bless their paranoid ghosts—had insisted on getting.
I walked to one end of the porch and tried to gauge the distance to the railing on the other end.
I would say that looks to be about…oh, twenty feet or so. I swayed back and forth in anticipation, eager to see what I could do without having to worry about prying eyes.
Holding my hand in front of my face, palm facing outwards, I closed my eyes to concentrate on letting all of the energy in my body flow into my hand.
I could feel it getting warm. Not uncomfortably warm—it was a nice feeling, like it was wrapped in a cozy mitten. Sort of how even in the summer, it can be nice to sit near a fire in the evening, not because you’re cold but because it’s warm.
I opened my eyes—and nearly yelped. Even though I was imagining the warmth as having come from a mitten, it was definitely not what I expected to see. There was so much energy—or electricity or whatever it was—in the air around my hand that it looked like I was actually wearing a bright-blue mitten.
“This doesn’t even make sense.” I turned it over in front of my face to see both sides. It looked a little thinner on the back of my hand than on the front, but overall, it was basically like I’d always imagined an aura looked. My hand was glowing so brightly it was visible a couple inches away from my skin.
I wiggled my fingers, and little sparks flew out; they barely made it past the glow. I frowned. That wasn’t as good as I’d hoped.
And, well, I also didn’t want to shoot anything without really meaning to.
I can do better than that!
I sucked the power back into me and realized just how tired I had been with it outside of my skin.
I guess that makes sense, considering it’s just my energy on the outside.
I think.
I shrugged and felt my hair lift for a second, trying to stand on end. I sighed.
Okay, so I know I can put it in and out of my body…
I held my hand in front of my face and tried to make the energy cover just my fingers then move down to my wrist.
Awesome. It wasn’t perfect, but I could do it.
This is amazing…and I know that I can shoot. Let’s just see…
I held my hands together and shot out a reasonably large bolt. It flew a few inches through the air, then fizzled. That was a lot closer to what I knew I could do—but with two hands.
Hmm.
It had been a lot easier at the park, when I’d actually been shooting at something. Maybe that was the problem—last night, I’d been trying to accomplish something. Right now, I was just playing around.
I went back inside and into the kitchen. I opened the cupboard underneath the sink and grabbed a large ice cream bucket—our parents had always kept them once they were empty in case we needed a large container, and it would hold a lot of water if I accidentally started another fire.
I filled the bucket, and as I turned the tap off, I could have sworn I’d heard the front door open, but when I checked the front door, I couldn’t see anything. I shrugged it off and walked outside. I must be hearing things. Another point for crazy, I guess!
Out in the backyard again, I put the bucket of water next to the end of the porch I’d been aiming at and then walked to the other side. Pointing at the railing above the tub of water, I jerked my finger upwards like I’d shot a “gun” as a child pretending to be a soldier. A small bolt came out, shot about a foot in front of me, and disappeared into the air with a small pop, sort of like a cap gun had gone off under a pillow or something.
Interesting.
Now, was it possible that I would be able to power things?
I opened the porch door—and stopped. I swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.
Jesse was standing there, mouth open wide in amazement.
“Oh…you’re home early,” I said, bringing my hand behind my back. I was pretty sure he’d seen at least my hand, but I really hoped he hadn’t or he was going to freak.