Wild-born Page 11

  I cautiously followed her upstairs.

  I hadn’t yet seen Alia’s bedroom, and when I entered, I was met with a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a miniature toy shop in here, the floor and shelves overflowing with dolls and stuffed animals, the bright pink wallpaper covered with even more brightly colored posters and pictures of panda bears and ponies and all sorts of cute stuff. Whatever I thought about Cindy’s decision to keep Alia locked up in a house for three years, there was no denying that Cindy was spoiling her rotten when it came to presents. Looking around, I suddenly understood: This wasn’t a kid’s room at all. It was a nursery! Cindy was letting Alia relive her baby years here.

  But it seemed that Alia had outgrown many of her more babyish toys, preferring the Legos and wooden blocks to the giant stuffed unicorn which stood leaning against her bed.

  I sat with Alia all morning, actually enjoying myself as I helped her build a castle with the blocks and played a few board games with her. She still seemed to be keeping a very slight distance from me, and was often silent for minutes at a time. Perhaps I was just more used to Cat’s lively personality, but I didn’t mind Alia’s quiet ways at all. During the last few years before my car accident, I hadn’t spent much time even with Cat, naturally preferring to play with friends my own age, so I never imagined I’d enjoy sitting around with a little girl. But after nearly a month on the streets, it felt good just being in somebody’s company for a change.

  Completely used to being left alone in the house, that day Alia was the one who fixed our lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which we ate along with some salad that Cindy had left in the refrigerator for us.

  After lunch, I carefully peeled the Band-Aid off of my thumb to check if yesterday’s cut had healed. There was still a very thin line left on my skin, but when Alia came over and put her right hand near it, the line disappeared instantly.

  “Thanks, Alia,” I said, almost patting her on the head before thinking better of it.

  Alia took a short nap on the living-room sofa in the afternoon, and I was left to my darker thoughts. True enough, Alia was nothing like Cat, but being with her reminded me of my sister, who I hadn’t seen since I sent her running off into the night. I put my hand to the amethyst pendant, which had become a bit of a habit for me, and hoped my fears about Cat were unfounded. Surely, Cat would have long since been picked up by the police and be comfortably adjusting to life with my uncle.

  “Addy?” Alia had woken up and was looking at me.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “My back is itchy.”

  It still felt a little strange to hear her voice without the accompanying mouth movements, but I was getting used to it.

  “Um, okay, come here,” I said carefully, apprehensive as to whether she would jump again if I actually touched her. However, she unhesitatingly came up to me and turned around, so I went ahead and scratched her back for her, running my fingernails over the back of her T-shirt.

  Even as I did so, I could tell something was wrong. The skin under her shirt just didn’t feel right. I ran my fingertips softly along her back, and realized how scarred it was, with lines crisscrossing this way and that, as if her back had been repeatedly cut up. I shuddered. Cindy telling me the story last night was one thing, but actually feeling it on Alia’s skin was quite another.

  “That tickles!” Alia cried into my head, giggling loudly at the same time and pulling away. Hearing her laughter, I realized that her voice was actually quite normal. She just didn’t speak words.

  After a sip of apple juice, we were back up in Alia’s room playing with her set of wooden ABC blocks. Actually, I was flying the blocks around and over Alia’s head as she jumped up and down trying to grab them. When she finally managed to get one of the blocks, Alia turned to me and asked, “Addy, can you make me fly?”

  “Well, I can, but I don’t know if I should,” I said, remembering how I had once bashed Cat against her bedroom ceiling.

  “Please, Addy.”

  I thought about what Cindy had said on the rooftop: “Control? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Well, Cindy, I thought to myself, someday you’ll teach me, I’m sure, but until then…

  I levitated Alia up into the air. She let out a loud shriek, and, mistaking it for fear, I quickly put her back down.

  “Again!”

  That’s how Cindy found us when she came home later that evening: me sitting on the living-room sofa, and Alia laughing and screeching in delight as I flew her around and around the room. Actually, I was just setting Alia down on the floor to take another quick break when Cindy opened the front door, which was fortunate because if I was caught off guard, I might have thrown Alia against a wall or something.

  “Adrian!” Cindy cried anxiously. “The neighbors will hear her!”

  I grinned. “Tell them you left your TV on.”

  “I don’t have a TV, Adrian.”

  “Oh, so you did know that?” I said sarcastically.

  Cindy laughed loudly herself at that one. Then she held up two large shopping bags that she had brought home. How she had managed to carry them on her bicycle is a mystery I never solved.

  “Your new clothes,” announced Cindy. “I do hope they fit. But no complaining about my choices, okay?”

  As I stood up to take the bags, I felt a dull pain in my left ankle. It wasn’t much, but I still wondered why it was there. Hadn’t I sprained that ankle a couple of days ago crash-landing after being spotted by a helicopter? Why hadn’t I felt the pain before? I wasn’t sure exactly why, but I felt it was important, and decided to ask Cindy about it later. Right now, I had a more pressing question.

  “Cindy, did you get…”

  “…the reports?” Cindy finished for me. “Yes, I did.”

  “And?”

  “Um, Adrian…” Cindy looked at me uneasily.

  “She hasn’t been found, has she?”

  Cindy looked away and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

  It was like being plunged into icy water. Somehow, despite all of my fears, I had convinced myself that there was no way Cat wouldn’t have been found by the morning after the berserker attack. Hearing Cindy’s words brought me back to the real world, where people die and are lost and do not live happily ever after at all.

  “Cindy, I need to find her… I need to go home.”

  Even as I said that, I questioned the wisdom of it. If the police couldn’t find her in three weeks, what would be my chances? And yet I felt I had to do something. At the very least, I could poke around in my house, where she might possibly have returned to later that morning. I could visit her favorite park and other places she liked to go. I could talk to her friends…

  “Listen, Adrian,” Cindy said in a concerned tone, “I understand you want to go looking for your sister. I’ll help you in any way I can, but I can’t go with you right now. And I honestly don’t think you’ll have much luck wandering around without any clues.”

  I was barely listening to her. I looked out the window.

  Cindy crouched down in front of me and grasped my hands. “I know I can’t stop you from leaving. If you want, I’ll give you some money and some hiding protection for the road, but it’ll wear off, and then it would only be a matter of time before you were taken by another finder… if the police don’t pick you up first.”

  Looking back at her, I felt a dull surprise as I realized that Cindy was actually offering to help me get back home and search for Cat. Cindy was the first person to offer me any real help since the berserker attack, but I felt even more confused. Clearly Cindy believed, as the small sensible part of me did, that my search would be in vain.

  “I should never have let her go off by herself,” I mumbled hollowly, pulling away from Cindy and walking to the stairs. “Excuse me.”

  I went up to my room and closed the door.

  How could I have let this happen? If only I had gone with her that night, if only I had been more concer
ned for Cat’s safety than about finding some monster…

  I sat down heavily on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts, hoping that they might smother my emotions. So much had happened since I first realized my power. So many things had gone wrong, and so many questions were still left unanswered.

  Even with Cindy’s aid, I could do little more than go wander around my old neighborhood. And Cindy was right: How long would I last before I was hunted down and captured or killed? But then again, how could I live with myself if I didn’t even try? I held Cat’s pendant tightly in my hand, desperately hoping I could hear her voice and ask her what I should do. But of course, no answer came.

  I heard a soft knock on the door, and Cindy’s voice from behind it. “Adrian, maybe you’re not hungry, but dinner is almost ready. Can I come in?”

  I didn’t answer, but Cindy quietly slipped in a moment later.

  “Hey,” she said hesitantly, and I forced myself to give her a weak smile.

  “I know you feel guilty about your sister,” Cindy said slowly, “but what happened isn’t your fault.”

  “If I could find her, I wouldn’t have to worry about fault,” I replied wearily. “Where do you think she is, Cindy?”

  “I don’t know,” Cindy said with a small sigh. “Adrian, please don’t take this the wrong way, but people go missing all the time. Sometimes they turn up miles away, sometimes years later.”

  “What should I do?”

  Cindy shook her head. “I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Adrian…”

  “Just suppose–”

  “No!” said Cindy, and I was surprised by the sharpness of her tone. But then she said more gently, “No, Adrian, she’s your sister. Don’t ask me to come between you and her.”

  Cindy crouched down and looked into my eyes, saying, “I want you to stay. I want you to be safe. But you have to figure this out for yourself. If you want to go looking for her, I already said I’ll help you, but you have to decide.”

  I asked quietly, “What do you think my chances are?”

  Cindy looked at me in a pained way, and I said, “That bad, huh?”

  I let my back fall onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Ralph wasn’t here this time, looking into my eyes and telling me that everything would be okay. Nor could I lean on the excuse of being alone and frightened in an unfamiliar city. No one was telling me what to think, or how to feel about it. However slim, there was still a chance that Cat was alive in my hometown, somewhere. There was a chance to find her. This time, the decision would have to be mine. Completely mine, as would be the responsibility for the consequences.

  I closed my eyes, praying that Cat would forgive me as I said quietly, “Cindy, I’ll stay.”

  “Okay, Adrian,” Cindy said softly.

  I wasn’t hungry at all, but I followed Cindy down to the dinner table and ate just enough to keep her happy. Cindy repeatedly praised my “maturity,” saying how it was a “difficult choice” I had made and that she hoped it would be the right one.

  My decision not to search for Cat had left something empty inside me, as if, by my betrayal, I had gutted my own soul. With my parents gone, Cat was the only family I had left, and I had given up on her, cowering in Cindy’s house. It was a horrible pain in my chest.

  And yet, strangely enough, I also felt that I was doing the right thing. The police were still looking for Cat. Right now, I needed to focus on myself, so that if Cat really was still alive somewhere, I would also still be alive to see her. Anyway, that’s how I justified it in my mind. Over and over.

  After tucking Alia into bed that night, Cindy finally showed me the clothes she had bought, and I really did do my best to pretend that I liked them. They were awful! Everything from flower-patterned, pastel-colored sweatpants to shirts and jackets with little cartoon characters on them. There was even a bright pink sweatshirt with a big teddy bear on the front. My new wardrobe was just a larger version of Alia’s. It was almost a blessing that I was required to remain out of sight. I wondered if perhaps this was a deliberate ploy on Cindy’s part to make me look cuddlier for Alia. The only good thing that could be said about them was that Cindy had taken great care to choose clothes with no zippers and only plastic buttons. I had to endure Cindy’s oohing and ahhing after I changed, but at least I was clean.

  In addition to my new clothes, Cindy had purchased a thin, light green rope with a plastic clip attached to it.

  “What’s that for?” I asked when she showed it to me just before bedtime. At first glance, the rope looked a bit like a dog leash.

  “This,” Cindy said with a smile, “is to keep you in bed at night. You can tie it to your bed and clip the other end to your pajamas. That way you won’t drift away in your sleep.”

  It was a dog leash.

  I shook my head. “No thanks, Cindy.”

  “It won’t be forever, Adrian,” said Cindy. “Just till you’re older. Child psionics often accidentally use their powers in their sleep. I’m sure you’ll grow out of it in a few years.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said more forcefully.

  Cindy laughed. “Alia’s no different, you know. She often telepathically talks to me in her sleep. Or mumbles, more like.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t tie her to her bed,” I pointed out.

  “Well, I won’t force you to use it, but I’m afraid you’re going to seriously injure yourself someday.”

  “I’ll take the chance,” I said. Cindy looked like she was about to argue further, but I deflected her by saying, “Can I ask you a strange question about Alia?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s with all the unicorns in her room?”

  It wasn’t just the big fluffy one leaning against her bed. Closer examination of Alia’s room today had revealed no fewer than twenty unicorns. There were small plastic unicorn toys, tiny glass unicorn ornaments, unicorn-themed picture books and coloring books, and even a board game about unicorns.

  Cindy smiled. “She just likes them. She used to sleep hugging the big one. Actually, she still does from time to time.”

  “She sleeps with that thing?” I asked incredulously.

  “Sure.” Cindy shrugged. “Why? Didn’t you ever have a security blanket when you were little? Fluffy bunny? Teddy bear?”

  I shook my head. “I was more of a triceratops kind of person.”

  “So, about this tether, Adrian…”

  “Goodnight, Cindy.”

  The next three days passed much like the first. While Cindy was at her hospital, I spent most of my time just playing with Alia. Cindy had hinted that she wanted me to continue my school studies at her house, and also tutor Alia as best I could. But since Cindy hadn’t yet managed to get any of the school supplies, Alia and I were still on holiday. I wanted to pester Cindy for more information about the psionic world, but for two days, she was very busy at work, coming home just in time to tuck Alia into bed, do her meditating-hiding thing, take a bath and disappear into her bedroom.

  On the third evening, Cindy came home early enough to have dinner with us. She even taught me how to make Chinese noodles. Well, at least she tried.

  “She sure loves attention,” I commented after dinner as I watched Alia crawling all over Cindy in the living room. Alia had been doing that to me for two days now, and I found it difficult to imagine how she could ever have been so timid at our first meeting.

  Gently forcing Alia into her lap, Cindy replied, “She does like attention. But only from someone she can trust.”

  Cindy nodded toward me and I smiled embarrassedly.

  “But it’s not easy finding people I can introduce her to,” continued Cindy, and then raised her voice in mock-frustration, “because she won’t talk! All she does is giggle!”

  Alia laughed hysterically for a while as Cindy tickled her all over. Finally breaking free of Cindy’s fingers, Alia ran and hid behind me.

  Cindy chuckled. �
�So, you found yourself a bodyguard, huh, Ali? Are you talking with Addy like I told you to?”

  Alia looked at Cindy and said something, but I couldn’t hear what. That was the frustrating thing about Alia: she could only speak to one person at a time.

  Cindy turned to me. “Adrian, are you talking with Alia while I’m away from home?”

  I looked at Cindy uneasily. “Well, I’m talking to her…”

  “Addy – I mean Adrian – she needs to learn to talk with her mouth,” said Cindy. “She only started using her mouth this year, and she still finds it very difficult. It’s like a completely different language for her, and she needs to be taught. Alia is already comfortable being with you. You’re practically family. I’ll get your school stuff as soon as I can, and I’ll also start teaching you how to balance your power from this weekend, but in the meantime, work with her.”

  Despite her selection of horrendously cutesy clothes for my wardrobe and the fact that she sometimes called me “Addy” in front of Alia, Cindy generally treated me like a mature adult, which I appreciated, so I tried to live up to her expectations. Starting the next day, I did my best to get Alia to talk using her mouth.

  Cindy wasn’t exaggerating when she said that mouth-speaking was a different language for Alia. While Alia could pretty much manage short vowel sounds, any word that required her tongue to move was beyond her. Whatever Cindy had been thinking when she asked me to let Alia use my baby name, “Addy” turned out to be just as hard for her as “Adrian.” Perhaps even harder, because Alia couldn’t pronounce her Ds at all. With her best efforts, she could just about manage to say “A-yi.” “Water” for Alia was “wawa,” and “hungry” was “howie,” and “Cindy” was “In-ie.” It was like the babblings of a one-year-old, except that Alia could speak normally with her telepathy so she simply didn’t understand why she should use her mouth in the first place.

  Whenever Alia telepathically asked me for something, such as levitating her around the house, my standard reply became, “Say the words, Ali.” It rarely worked. Upon relentless demand, she might try to say a word or two, but her attempts were as feeble as they were frustrating for the both of us. I even wondered if Alia’s tongue was somehow handicapped, possibly malformed. Cindy assured me that it wasn’t, saying, “She just needs practice.”