Wild-born Read online

  But Alia clearly didn’t want practice. I tried being nice, firm, patient, but nothing really worked. I even bullied her a few times, refusing to let her have what she wanted until she asked for it out loud, but that always ended in tears.

  Cindy had to work all day Saturday too. When I asked her about it, she told me that she was making up the time because she had taken a few extra days off of work that month. She didn’t tell me why, but I knew it had been to go searching for me.

  On the morning of the last Sunday of September, I found myself staring out the window and longing to go out and enjoy the sunny day I knew it was going to become. It would probably be one of the last really warm days of the year. After nearly a month outdoors in the city, I had gratefully welcomed a roof over my head as opposed to under it. But a week was a long time to be trapped inside a house, especially with the knowledge that I couldn’t freely leave without risking not only myself, but Cindy and Alia as well, since I knew where they lived.

  After breakfast, Cindy sat Alia and me down in the living room and showed us two stacks of books that she had brought home the day before. For Alia, there were first-grade math and writing workbooks, as well as some beginner reading books and even a few coloring books. Since Alia was seven going on eight this school year, I thought she would be given second-grade stuff, but considering Alia’s past, I didn’t question Cindy’s choices. My stack of textbooks included seventh-grade math, history, science, you name it. There was a home-study curriculum guidebook as well.

  “I can’t be checking everything that you do,” Cindy said to me as I glanced through the textbooks, “but I expect you to study those just like you would at school, and I will probably be giving you a test or two before the end of the year.”

  I peered up into Cindy’s eyes, hoping that she was only kidding about testing me on this stuff, but Cindy looked entirely serious.

  “These here,” she continued lightly, ignoring my frown and handing me some easy storybooks, “are for Alia. They’re still a bit above her reading level, but once she’s through her first readers, I want you to read these to her and then gradually get her to read along with you.”

  “Read along with me?” I repeated apprehensively, raising my eyebrows. “You mean with her mouth?”

  “Aloud,” confirmed Cindy. “Or at least somewhat audibly for starters.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Experiment. Do whatever works. And in return, I’ll teach you how to balance your power.”

  “Starting now?”

  Cindy nodded. “Right now.”

  “Great!”

  “Don’t get too excited, Adrian. It’s not something you learn in a day.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “I know you will,” said Cindy, smiling. “Do you have any questions before we start?”

  Actually, I had loads. For starters, I still hadn’t heard Cindy’s story and what her connection with the Guardians was. But I knew this wasn’t the time for questions like that. I asked two others instead, starting with, “You once said Alia has better power balance than I do.”

  “And she does,” said Cindy. “She sometimes gets a little dizzy when she touches metal, but she isn’t nearly as bad as you.”

  “Yeah, but why? If she had her power from birth, how did she learn? You couldn’t have started teaching her until you found her, so how did she survive as a baby?”

  Cindy paused for a moment before replying, “That’s actually a very good question, Adrian, because as far as I know, on the rare occasions that a person is psionic from birth, they are usually destroyed by their powers. But in Alia’s case, I think she had some instinctive balance from the start. Some people don’t need to be taught how to separate their power from their bodies. They just know.”

  “How about you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I had to learn it. But that’s fortunate, because it means I can teach you. Any other questions?”

  “Just one more,” I said, and explained about how I had sprained my left ankle the night before Cindy found me, and how the pain didn’t bother me until the evening of my first day at her house. I asked her why that was so.

  “Now that’s an even better question,” said Cindy, “because it leads right into what I’m going to start teaching you. The short answer is that you had separated your power temporarily. If I remember correctly, you were flying Alia around this room when I got home. You had focused your power away from yourself so much and for so long that your body had to take care of itself.”

  “But the pain in my ankle went away again soon after that,” I said. “Does that mean my power went back to supporting my body?”

  “Bingo! So you know that it’s possible for you to balance your power, because you already did it once then.”

  I said excitedly, “So I have to use my power on other things to separate it from my body!”

  “No,” Cindy said flatly.

  “No?”

  “You need to learn where your power starts, and where it ends. You need to learn the difference between your psionic power and your actual strength. Only then can you balance the two.”

  “How?”

  “Like this,” said Cindy, sitting cross-legged on the floor and folding her hands in her lap.

  Sitting across from her, I mimicked. I noticed that Alia had crossed her legs too, watching us. We sat silently for almost a full minute before I asked, “Then what?”

  “That’s it?!” Cindy cried incredulously. “One lousy minute?”

  I stared at her, taken aback, and she said, “I just wanted to see what the natural limit of your patience was. I can see this is going to take some work.”

  I frowned at the floor, feeling foolish. Giggling, Alia gathered up her coloring books and went upstairs.

  For the next hour, Cindy led me through meditation and breathing exercises. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Focus on your fingertips. Focus on your stomach. All kinds of weird stuff. I promised myself not to interrupt her again, but I was getting more and more frustrated because I couldn’t understand what Cindy was getting at. How did this help me know the difference between my power and my body?

  “That’s enough for the morning,” said Cindy, getting up and stretching.

  I immediately jumped to my feet, glad that it was finally over.

  Watching me, Cindy said, “Your legs should feel numb after sitting like that for so long.”

  “They don’t,” I told her.

  “I know,” said Cindy, grinning. “I just said they should.”

  After lunch, we meditated again for two hours, and yet again after dinner. It was going nowhere for me. Meditation was as tedious as the time spent back on the rooftops, with the added bonus of not being able to see the sky or read a magazine. I think I might even have fallen asleep once during the afternoon session.

  “What am I supposed to be looking for?” I asked irritably after Cindy had tucked Alia into bed that night.

  “It’ll find you,” she answered simply, and I was left even more confused.

  Cindy then said, “Meditation isn’t the only way to learn how to separate and balance your power, but it’s the best way I know. It worked for me. I know you’re disappointed, but promise me you’ll keep doing it while I’m at work, okay?”

  I did. Even at seven and a half years old, Alia usually took a nap in the early afternoons, and I used that time to meditate. Sometimes I felt foolish sitting there waiting for something to happen, but it wasn’t like there was much else to do. My mornings were spent studying my schoolbooks – yes, I did do that too, though not with any enthusiasm. It felt kind of pointless, seeing as I’d probably never go back to school. I started to work with Alia on her school stuff as well, checking her workbooks and occasionally daring to sit down with her and try making her read her books aloud.

  Cindy was now regularly coming home by dinnertime, and we sat at the table talking about our days as if we were a normal family instead of a gathering of outcasts in hiding. Cindy w
ould often lead me through more meditation after dinner. I became better at sitting still, though I still didn’t feel any different. I hadn’t forgotten about asking Cindy for her story, but I was no longer as bothered with it as I had been before. I trusted Cindy, and didn’t feel like imposing on her privacy. The Angels and the Guardians felt a long way off, and just part of a bad dream. Bullet-in-the-Butt Brian had promised to keep Cindy updated on Cat’s case, though we heard nothing.

  Another week passed.

  “So what do you want for your birthday, Adrian?” Cindy asked me at breakfast one morning. My thirteenth birthday, October 12th, was only five days away.

  “I don’t really know,” I answered semi-truthfully.

  In fact, I had given very little thought to my birthday. Before all of this had happened, there were a number of things I might have asked my parents to get, but none of that mattered now. I had little use for computer games or the new bike I had wanted since last year. A TV might have been nice, but Cindy had once said that she didn’t want to have unnecessary metal things in her house, and in the weeks since I left home, I too had gotten pretty used to not watching any television. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful and complain about my girly clothes, either. If there was one thing I really wanted, it was to go outside, but I knew that was impossible.

  “Well, if you think of something, just ask,” said Cindy. “We’ll at least have a little party.”

  Cindy came home earlier than usual on my birthday. She baked the cake herself, and prepared some delicious stir-fried chicken. I was really starting to admire Cindy’s “other power,” and promised myself that I would pay more attention to her cooking lessons.

  Alia gave me a hug and a birthday card she had made by herself, where she had drawn the three of us holding hands. She had also written some words in every crayon color known to mankind, but I couldn’t read any of it.

  Cindy handed me a brown paper shopping bag, saying, “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it. I just got it today. I couldn’t decide what to get you, so I thought this might be best.”

  “You really didn’t have to get me anything, Cindy,” I said, taking the bag.

  It felt light in my hands and I could tell it was more clothes, so I secretly hoped I would find something a touch more masculine than her previous choices.

  “Open it,” said Cindy, grinning mischievously, and I could tell by her giggly expression that something was up.

  I warily pried open the bag and pulled out something long, soft and light blue. It had frills.

  “A dress?!” I asked, holding it at arm’s length as if it might suddenly explode.

  “A dress,” confirmed Cindy, smiling even more broadly. She switched to her game-show-host tone, saying, “And here’s your wig.”

  I caught the semi-long ball of dark brown hair in my other hand.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?” I demanded crossly, not at all sharing her humor in the situation.

  “I thought you might like to go outside,” said Cindy.

  I stared for a moment at the dress and wig, torn between a desire to laugh and rage. I had been shut up in this house now for three weeks, and my skin was starting to become pale like Alia’s. Dressing up like a girl suddenly didn’t seem such a terrible price to pay to get out for a while.

  “I have a cute straw hat for you too, and you’ll look like a nice country girl, Adrianna,” said Cindy.

  “Adrianna?” I repeated in disgust. “I think I’d still prefer Addy.”

  Cindy laughed. “Suits me fine, Addy!”

  The dress actually fit well, though I had a lot of trouble walking in it at first. It flapped around my legs and I was constantly afraid I’d step on it. Seeing me in it for the first time, Alia couldn’t stop laughing, which reminded me of Cat, and I wondered what my sister would say if she could see me now.

  “So, how about a quick drive?” asked Cindy.

  “Great!” I said enthusiastically, though I was admittedly still quite uncomfortable about going out dressed like this.

  Cindy looked over my shoulder at Alia. “We’ll be back before bedtime, okay?”

  “You’re not taking her?” I asked.

  “Well, she doesn’t like going out,” Cindy said matter-of-factly. “Right, Ali?”

  Alia said something to Cindy, who looked surprised and replied, “Really? There’s a break from tradition. Are you sure, sweetie?”

  Alia nodded, and then came up to me and tugged hard on my hand.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Cindy smiled. “It means she wants to go out.”

  It was only six o’clock in the evening, but the sky was already pretty dark. Cindy drove us to a nearby shopping mall. Located only three blocks from her house, the large mall was well within Cindy’s hiding bubble. Cindy told me that this was where she usually did her shopping on her way back from work. It was probably also where she got my dress. As we got out of the car, Cindy told me again that if I found something I wanted, all I had to do was ask.

  The inside of the mall was brightly lit, and there were lots of people walking around. I hesitated at the gate, afraid that my disguise wouldn’t fool anyone. Even after I had gathered enough courage to enter, I felt very silly walking through the mall in a dress and a wig. But nobody seemed to be taking any notice, and I gradually felt a little more at ease.

  Alia, on the other hand, seemed to regret her decision to come with us almost immediately after we pulled into the parking lot. We dragged her into the mall, but she firmly latched herself onto Cindy and, though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was pleading to be taken home.

  “It’s okay, Cindy, we can come another time,” I said.

  Picking Alia up in her arms, Cindy said to me, “Well, if you like, Addy, I’ll take Alia home now and come back later.”

  So I was left alone in the mall to wander around at my leisure. I played with some of the computer games on display at the toy shop, but I found that I didn’t enjoy them as much as I used to. I strolled through a bookstore and a music store before stopping to look at some clothes, wondering if I might politely convince Cindy to get me something normal after all. Then I suddenly realized how out of place I looked: a girl in the boys’ clothing section. I hurried out.

  My wig hair felt heavy and was overheating my neck so much that I was actually sweating a little. I never knew how much trouble long hair could be. Did girls feel like this all the time? I stepped out of the mall into the cool night air, and sat on a concrete bench overlooking the parking lot.

  “Hey there, young lady.”

  It took me a moment to realize that the deep male voice was directed at me. I turned my head and saw a uniformed security guard standing at the entrance.

  “We’re closing in about fifteen minutes,” he said. “Are your parents around?”

  I didn’t answer, afraid that my voice would give me away. I must have looked really nervous because the security guard came up even closer and peered into my eyes.

  He frowned slightly, saying, “You look familiar.”

  I just shook my head, stood up, and ran down to the parking lot, where I could see the headlights of Cindy’s SUV as it pulled into the lot. I nearly tripped over my dress as I sprinted up to the side of the car.

  “Adrian, what’s the matter?” asked Cindy, opening the door for me.

  I jumped in, panting, “Just go!”

  As we pulled out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of the security guard walking back into the mall. On the drive home, I explained to Cindy what had happened.

  “Well, I don’t remember seeing your picture in the paper, but that doesn’t guarantee your face isn’t known,” Cindy said to me after we got back. I was still shaken by the close call, and spent the rest of the evening feeling grateful for the invention of walls. All things considered, it wasn’t one of my best birthdays.

  But it wasn’t until the next morning that I realized how much harder a time it had been for Alia.

&nb
sp; I was usually woken in the mornings by Alia’s telepathic wake-up calls, but that day, it was Cindy knocking on my door and saying that breakfast was already on the table. By the time I got dressed and made my way down to the dining room, Cindy and Alia were already seated.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” said Cindy as I sat in my usual chair across from Alia.

  “Good morning,” I yawned.

  I noticed that Alia looked about as dazed as I felt. She was silently staring down at her plate of ham and eggs. She hadn’t even looked up when I sat at the table, which was strange because, these days, she usually started chattering into my head the moment she saw me.

  “Good morning, Alia,” I said again.

  Alia still didn’t move, so I telekinetically rattled her plate a little. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  Alia finally looked up at me, gave me a distracted smile, and telepathically mumbled into my head, “Hi, Addy.”

  Then she looked down again and resumed staring at her plate.

  “It’s alright,” Cindy said to me as she gently rubbed Alia’s back. “Alia’s a little out of it this morning. She had a rough night. Bad dreams.”

  I had no doubt that her rough night had been triggered by her trip to the mall yesterday. I hadn’t fully appreciated how frightened Alia was of strangers until now.

  “We shouldn’t have gone out,” I said apologetically.

  “Don’t worry, Adrian,” said Cindy. “She’ll come around.”

  Cindy gently coaxed Alia into taking a few bites of scrambled egg, but Alia left the rest of her breakfast untouched and, without helping clear the table, quietly slipped up to her room.

  Though it was a Saturday, Cindy had to leave for work right after breakfast. At the front door, I asked her if Alia was really okay.

  Cindy assured me that she was. Apparently, Alia used to act this way much more frequently when she was younger, so Cindy was used to it. “Alia can be pretty moody when she’s feeling upset or insecure, Adrian, but it always passes.”