Kei

  The way back to Waycross is a very long walk. I’m not tired, despite the storm, the sand and the sprinting. Enough traces of my power remain to make a hike trivial. My main concern is calming my body and mind further, and with them my Gift.

  The last thing I need is to bring anything dredged up by that storm back into town.

  So I walk. Slowly by my standards, speed walking by anyone else’s, and I breathe deeply, in and out, imaginary sparks swirling around me as I exhale the “noise” in my system. A runner’s high still lingers in the wake of my race, but that makes my meditative walk easier. Not to mention clearing my mind of multiple sets of worries.

  Of course, it also helps to sustain the echoes of my Gift, but there are always tradeoffs. Usually only work and time tamp down my tempest, but I am willing to invest both. Given how much power has just coursed through me, I doubt I will sleep more than an hour or two tonight anyway. Or need to.Instead, I’ll get more hours of meditation to contain my inner monster, and be grateful for them.

  Minutes and miles pass without notice. And then I am in Waycross, walking across a park and through back streets in silence, a fading cloud of dreamsparks and distress carrying away my concerns.

  Then I turn onto the Donovan’s street, and I see someone in the backyard.

  I approach, straightening my clothes slightly as I do so. I’m a bit dusty, but there’s nothing to be done for it.

  “Hello, Anya,” I say before stepping onto their lawn.

  She starts and turns. “Kei?” she asks. “I just came out to check, and you were gone.”“Sorry,” I say. I remember I’d mentioned going outside to meditate and exercise, both of which I’ve undoubtedly done. “I decided to take in a quick run before coming inside.” The precise truth, as it happens, but I’ll skip the details. They would only worry her.

  “If you could let me know when you’re going out,” Anya begins, and looks out into the darkness. “And are you safe running at night?”

  I nod. “Yes.” My response is automatic, and only afterwards it occurs to me how insane I appear – a teenage girl running around a strange town at night, even one as rich as Waycross, with no concern for her safety.

  If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that my Gift is more likely to kill me than anything, even my hunters.

  But Anya has no way of knowing that. As far as she knows, I’m just another teen with no idea how the world works or what dangers lurk in the shadows. Gifted, yet vulnerable.

  Which is not far from how I view her. If only because my Gift tears things out of the shadows that even my mind still struggles to comprehend.

  Anya takes in a deep breath, then lets it go as she reconsiders her next words. “Please let me or Joe know if you’re going to run, or at least Haley and the other kids. And run during daylight. This is a safe town, but I’m responsible for you, Kei.”

  “I understand.” And I do. To make her understand my reality is something I flinch back from.

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  If she understood, she would send me away. And should. But for now, this is a good place for me, if a fragile one. If the time comes to leave, I should make that choice myself, not force others to make it for me.

  ***

  “There she is!” Joey exclaims as I emerge from the bathroom and my post-run hot shower.

  There’s a cough and suddenly Haley’s hands are over Joey’s eyes, so fast even I barely see her move. “Out,” she says to him in a steely, big-sister voice. Haley is sweeping him out of the gameroom in seconds, despite his protests, while Tam and Emily stare at me.

  I look down at myself, and the donated t-shirt and pajama shorts I was planning to sleep in.

  Anya looks in as Haley pushes Joey out the door. “It’s past your bedtime anyway,” she snaps, cutting off all further protests. “Gotobed.” Anya catches the door as Haley tries to slam it, and slips through as Joey tries to ogle around it.

  “What—?” she begins. “Oh.”

  I look down at my clothes again as Tam and Emily pretend they weren’t staring and half turn back to the game console only to look at each other and start fighting giggles.

  “Let me guess,” Haley sighs. “You got your spare clothes at the hospital.”

  I am actually quite proud of being able to squeeze into this Chuck-e-Cheese t-shirt, despite it making me an ambassador of some of the worst pizza on Earth. Especially since it covers my midriff, not an easy feat for a shirt at least three sizes too small.

  Looking down, though, I remember that I’m not just athletic, but what the shopgirls call ‘curvy,’ and therefore the other reason I like loose clothes and enveloping hoodies. Instead of looking anonymous, I look, well, embarrassing.I fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t suppose you have some… bigger clothes?” I ask. “Men’s shirts are fine, if that’s all you’ve got.”

  “The hospital gave you those?” Anya asks.

  I sigh, and notice my breathing is a bit constricted. So my scavenged find is a Chuck-e-Cheese corset, on top of everything else. “They didn’t have many choices, and I didn’t want to complain. Charity case.” There were a few extra-large options, most of which came to my knees, but were too tacky to pass off as a dress. Still, I was reconsidering my position on circus tents.

  Anya nods, and glances at Haley, whose build isn’t all that different than mine. “We can do better.” Her tone is firm. “Girls, let’s turn out our closets, and see what we can do.”

  An hour later, we find that fitting me in anything they’ve got is a lesson in futility. Even Haley is a hair shorter, and already outgrowing her new wardrobe. Emily and Tam aren’t small, exactly, except compared to us, and they’re outgrowing their clothes also.

  Finally, with a sigh, Anya has us pull up a few websites and we go shopping from the gameroom. An app scans our measurements in seconds, and the huge flatscreen takes turns showing exactly how we’d look in anything we click on.

  After Anya casts a judicious eye over our shopping carts, she clicks them through for drone delivery for one shop after another. We’re halfway through our third site when Joey calls out “Your stuff’s here!” We grab packages and start changing into a few outfits, just to be sure, and to be able to show off.

  I’m… restrained, and they don’t get why I like active wear, loose shirts and looser hoodies. And sports undergarments. Honestly, even I don’t, but I can guess – outdoor sports and anonymity. I still buy a few showy things at the girls’ urging – even Anya’s – and stalk around in some styles that flatter my figure… for about five minutes before it’s all too embarrassing.

  I swap those ensembles out fast in a walk-in closet and finally, mercifully, Anya and the girls let me relax in some loose pajamas that leave me feeling comfortable, instead of an exhibitionist or a narcissist. I think I may have a few unresolved issues regarding clothes.

  As a teen, I mostly shopped on my own, I think. As a kid and a tween, I’m pretty sure I was told Daddy’s princess was perfect in anything. Which, you know, is great for self-esteem, not so great for discriminating style choices. I’m starting to suspect rainbows and unicorns might not fit with whatever image I’m trying to project, so it’s just as well the Donovans didn’t see the rest of my scavenged wardrobe. Since my other options were mostly product merch and old death-metal t-shirts, I can’t complain.

  Other than about, you know, the sizes. Which my foster family is handling now.

  Before I know it, I realize I’m no longer a homeless girl with a couple school uniforms. But someone who looks like she has a place in this world. Because she does.

  With three other girls and Anya trying things on with me, I realize this is something I didn’t have while…

  Okay, I’m not sure what I’ve been doing for the last five years, but my gut tells me we weren’t big on home shopping. Or shopping, period.

  Memories dance at the edge of my awareness, taunting me until at last I stuff them in a closet along with my new hoodies and other urban camouflage, and I head to bed.

  “She’s nice,” Joey remarks in the hall as Anya herds him towards his bedroom for the third time, glass of water in hand.

  “Definite new-sister material,” Haley murmurs, in what should be out of earshot.

  Anya says something in reply, but I can’t make it out, and sleep has come to take me.

  I feel the past yawning beneath me like an abyss as consciousness fades, and then it comes to take me also.

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