of the school. She nods her head, as if the motion is convincing her of something.
“It’s okay,” she says. “As long as you don’t actually manifest…which shouldn’t be easy to do here.”
She tosses me a stern look. “It’s like a muscle. It will lose strength if you don’t exercise it.”
Like with her. I have only vague memories of Mom manifesting. It’s been years. Even when she could, she rarely did, preferring to stay home with Tamra and me while Dad flew. She gave it up al-together when Tamra failed to manifest. “I know.”
Only I’m not like her. As stifled as I felt with the pride, uncertain of myself around Cassian…living in this desert, deliberately killing my draki, is worse.
“Just to be safe, keep your distance from that boy.”
It’s my turn to nod now. “Sure,” I say, even as I think no. Even as I think I might hate my mother just a little bit. Because even though I know I should stay away from Will, I’m tired of her making all my decisions. Could what the pride had in store for me have been so bad that we needed to come here to be safe? Is Cassian really that bad? It’s not that I didn’t like him. I just didn’t like him being chosen for me. Especially since my sister had wanted him from the age of three. He always gave Tamra piggyback rides even though Mom would shout at him to put her down. Me, I just tried to keep up. And then I didn’t have to anymore. Cassian manifested and forgot us both. He didn’t notice me again until I manifested. And Tamra…well, never manifesting sealed her fate. Cassian forgot her completely.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
That word comes up a lot with Mom. Safety. It’s everything. It’s led me to this. Leaving the pride, killing my draki, avoiding the boy who saved my life, the boy who awakened my draki in the midst of this scorched sea—the boy I want very much to know.
Can’t she understand? What good is safety if you’re dead inside?
Firelight
8
Mrs. Hennessey stares at us through her blinds. She must have been waiting for us to come home.
We enter quietly through the back gate, careful not to let it clang after us.
And yet, as quiet as we are, she is ready, peering at us from the security of her house. She’s done that a lot since we moved in. As if she’s not sure she didn’t rent her pool house to a family of convicts.
Apparently I’m not the only one who notices. “She’s watching us,” Tamra hisses. “Again.”
“Don’t stare,” Mom commands. “And keep your voice down.”
Tamra obeys, whispering, “Isn’t it kind of creepy living in some old lady’s backyard?”
“It’s a lovely neighborhood.”
“And all we could afford,” I remind Tamra.
We skirt the pool, walking one after the other. Mom leads, balancing a small bag of groceries on her hip. I’m last. I look down into the cerulean blue pool to see a shuddering reflection of myself. The chemical odor stings my nostrils.
Still, the water looks refreshing in this dry, skin-shriveling heat that makes my thirsting pores contract. We don’t even have a tub. Just a shower stall. Maybe I can sneak a swim later. I’ve never been good at following rules.
Tamra grumbles, “I just hope she doesn’t go through our stuff while we’re gone.”
What stuff? It’s not like we smuggled out much in our haste. Clothes and a few personal belongings. I doubt she could find our gems. I haven’t even been able to find them. And I looked when Mom left us to job hunt, hungry for the sight of them. Just a touch. A revitalizing brush against my skin.
Mom unlocks the door. Tamra follows her inside. I pause and take another look over my shoulder—
find Mrs. Hennessey still watching. When she sees me looking, the blinds snap shut. Turning, I walk inside the moldy-smelling pool house, wondering what time she goes to bed.
That water is calling my name. And for now, it’s closer than the sky.
As Tamra and I wash dishes, Mom changes for work. The smell of rich butter
“It’s okay,” she says. “As long as you don’t actually manifest…which shouldn’t be easy to do here.”
She tosses me a stern look. “It’s like a muscle. It will lose strength if you don’t exercise it.”
Like with her. I have only vague memories of Mom manifesting. It’s been years. Even when she could, she rarely did, preferring to stay home with Tamra and me while Dad flew. She gave it up al-together when Tamra failed to manifest. “I know.”
Only I’m not like her. As stifled as I felt with the pride, uncertain of myself around Cassian…living in this desert, deliberately killing my draki, is worse.
“Just to be safe, keep your distance from that boy.”
It’s my turn to nod now. “Sure,” I say, even as I think no. Even as I think I might hate my mother just a little bit. Because even though I know I should stay away from Will, I’m tired of her making all my decisions. Could what the pride had in store for me have been so bad that we needed to come here to be safe? Is Cassian really that bad? It’s not that I didn’t like him. I just didn’t like him being chosen for me. Especially since my sister had wanted him from the age of three. He always gave Tamra piggyback rides even though Mom would shout at him to put her down. Me, I just tried to keep up. And then I didn’t have to anymore. Cassian manifested and forgot us both. He didn’t notice me again until I manifested. And Tamra…well, never manifesting sealed her fate. Cassian forgot her completely.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
That word comes up a lot with Mom. Safety. It’s everything. It’s led me to this. Leaving the pride, killing my draki, avoiding the boy who saved my life, the boy who awakened my draki in the midst of this scorched sea—the boy I want very much to know.
Can’t she understand? What good is safety if you’re dead inside?
Firelight
8
Mrs. Hennessey stares at us through her blinds. She must have been waiting for us to come home.
We enter quietly through the back gate, careful not to let it clang after us.
And yet, as quiet as we are, she is ready, peering at us from the security of her house. She’s done that a lot since we moved in. As if she’s not sure she didn’t rent her pool house to a family of convicts.
Apparently I’m not the only one who notices. “She’s watching us,” Tamra hisses. “Again.”
“Don’t stare,” Mom commands. “And keep your voice down.”
Tamra obeys, whispering, “Isn’t it kind of creepy living in some old lady’s backyard?”
“It’s a lovely neighborhood.”
“And all we could afford,” I remind Tamra.
We skirt the pool, walking one after the other. Mom leads, balancing a small bag of groceries on her hip. I’m last. I look down into the cerulean blue pool to see a shuddering reflection of myself. The chemical odor stings my nostrils.
Still, the water looks refreshing in this dry, skin-shriveling heat that makes my thirsting pores contract. We don’t even have a tub. Just a shower stall. Maybe I can sneak a swim later. I’ve never been good at following rules.
Tamra grumbles, “I just hope she doesn’t go through our stuff while we’re gone.”
What stuff? It’s not like we smuggled out much in our haste. Clothes and a few personal belongings. I doubt she could find our gems. I haven’t even been able to find them. And I looked when Mom left us to job hunt, hungry for the sight of them. Just a touch. A revitalizing brush against my skin.
Mom unlocks the door. Tamra follows her inside. I pause and take another look over my shoulder—
find Mrs. Hennessey still watching. When she sees me looking, the blinds snap shut. Turning, I walk inside the moldy-smelling pool house, wondering what time she goes to bed.
That water is calling my name. And for now, it’s closer than the sky.
As Tamra and I wash dishes, Mom changes for work. The smell of rich butter
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