The Power Within

Bzzz
.

Though Darren Smith had
finally
fallen asleep, and his phone barely made any noise as it buzzed, he bolted upright in bed, anyway, wide awake in an instant. Everything was blurry as he blinked his eyes, once, twice, and tried to focus on the blinding brightness of the screen so that he could read the text message. It was from his big brother, Ray, and just seeing Ray's name made Darren feel better—for a second, anyway.

D, What's up? Just got your msg. I'm here

Darren had been waiting half the night to hear back from Ray, but he couldn't tell him everything over text.
Darren didn't know exactly what was going on—that was why he had contacted Ray in the middle of the night, after all—but he knew that it was too important for a text message.

v-chat?

logging on now

Darren tucked his phone into his pillowcase and tiptoed out of his bedroom. It was still dark outside, but he glanced out the window, just in case Dad had come home in the night and he'd missed it.

But Dad's space in the driveway was still empty. In the dim glow of the streetlights, Darren could see that only Mom's car was parked there.

In the kitchen, Darren found Mom's laptop on the table. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder, even though he was certain Mom was still asleep.
If only my laptop hadn't melted down . . . ,
he thought as he stifled a sigh. Then he would've been able to chat with Ray in his own room—instead of out here, in the open.

Darren flipped up the screen and logged into his v-chat account. To his relief, Ray was already logged on. A warm smile filled Ray's face as Darren opened the
screen. Ever since Ray had moved out last year to start college at New Brighton University, Darren had missed him terribly. Not that he would ever admit it aloud—what would be the point? He didn't want Ray to feel bad or anything. Besides, v-chatting was almost as good as getting to hang out with Ray in person.

Almost.

“Little D!” Ray said, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. “Sorry I missed your text last night. My psychology midterm is this morning, so I was in the quiet room of the library studying for most of the night. Let's just say my floor mates are pretty much the opposite of quiet.”

“The quiet room?” Darren repeated. He and his friend Fiona had been to New Brighton University's library a few times since school had started, but he didn't remember seeing a place called the quiet room.

Ray nodded. “Yeah, it's in the basement—a completely silent place for studying and schoolwork. You're not even allowed to bring in your phone. You have to check it in at the front desk. So I didn't even get your text until, like, four a.m. Otherwise, I would've been right on it. Anyway, what's up?”

Darren got right to the point. “Dad didn't come home last night,” he said, lowering his voice. “
Or
the night before.”

A look of surprise flickered across Ray's face for half a second; then it smoothed out, as expressionless as a mask. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Maybe Dad was really busy at work and got home after you were asleep.”

Darren shook his head. “I waited up both nights,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I mean, it's not like the lab stays open twenty-four hours.”

“True,” Ray said.

“Besides, he's not even home now,” added Darren. “Where would Dad go before six o'clock in the morning? I'm serious, Ray, I really don't think he's been home in”—Darren paused as his throat tightened; he swallowed hard, then continued—“two days.”

“Did you ask Mom? What did she say?” Ray wanted to know.

“She won't tell me anything,” he said in frustration. “Just like all the times Dad has skipped dinner. She keeps acting like nothing's wrong! Like I'm a little kid who's totally oblivious!”

Ray lifted a finger to his lips, and Darren realized that he was getting kind of loud. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Mom was still upstairs.

“Do you think . . . ,” Darren began, almost afraid to say the words aloud. He forced himself to say it anyway. “Do you think they're going to get divorced?”

“Divorced? No,” Ray said—too quickly. “I mean, yeah, I can see why you might be worried about that. But I'm sure it's not
that
serious. The point is, we don't know anything for sure yet. Maybe Dad's going through, like, a midlife crisis or something.”

“You think so?” Darren asked as a note of hope crept into his voice.

“Absolutely,” Ray said firmly. “Listen, I'll come home next weekend. We'll talk some sense into them.”

Darren liked the sound of that; a weekend hanging out with Ray was just what he needed. Maybe the four of them could do something together—go to a football game or eat dinner at the Willow Cove Café, where Dad had proposed to Mom more than twenty years ago. Maybe that would help Mom and Dad remember what it felt like to be a family.

Just then, Mom's alarm started blaring. It was so loud that even Ray could hear it through their v-chat connection. “I see Mom still needs a foghorn to drag her out of bed,” he joked.

“Pretty much,” Darren said. “I should go. Mom wouldn't be happy to see me using her laptop.”

“Hang in there, D,” Ray told him. “And remember, everything's going to work out just fine. It always does.”

“Thanks, Ray,” replied Darren. “Good luck with your midterm. Talk to you soon.”

Then Darren ended their v-chat session. He was about to close Mom's laptop when, all of a sudden, something caught his eye. Mom had left her Internet browser open—and Darren could see the websites she had been looking at before going to bed.

He knew he shouldn't go digging through his mom's stuff. He didn't even mean to look. It was just that the words on the screen—the worst words he'd ever read—jumped out at him before he even had a chance to realize what he was doing.

Jessup, Jessup, & Crumm

DIVORCE ATTORNEYS

Willow Cove · Middletown · New Brighton

Darren's throat felt all tight, as if it were being squeezed by a boa constrictor. All the reassurance he'd felt from his chat with Ray disappeared in an instant. Because if Mom was searching for divorce lawyers, that told Darren everything he needed to know, didn't it?

Almost against his will, Darren's eyes glanced over at the next tab. He didn't think it was possible, but that site was even worse: a whole page of apartment listings in New Brighton. From the map on the screen, Darren could tell they were all just a few blocks away from New Brighton University, where Mom worked as a chemistry professor. Darren remembered, all of a sudden, how much Mom disliked the nearly hour-long commute each way, especially when she was running an experiment late into the night.

Shut it down,
Darren told himself, but he wasn't entirely sure if he meant the laptop or his racing thoughts, which were only making him feel worse
with every passing second. He closed the computer and bolted away from the kitchen table. It was impossible to believe that just a few minutes ago, Ray was telling him that maybe Mom and Dad could work it out. That maybe everything would be okay.

Now, though, Darren realized that things were so much worse than he could even bear to admit. Sharp, bright sparks crackled down his fingers, but Darren barely noticed them. There was a time, not so long ago, when the truth about himself was the biggest thing on his mind. After all, not every twelve-year-old had to deal with finding out he was actually a Changer: a shape-shifter with the ability to transform into a mythological animal, able to wield stunning and unexpected powers. As an
impundulu
Changer, Darren could transform into a massive bird, control storms, create lightning, and even fly. As the sparks at his fingertips intensified, joining together to create thin, crackling bolts of lightning, Darren's powers were the least of his worries.

For now.

In a small house across town, Mack Kimura sat across from his grandfather, Jiichan, for breakfast. As usual, Jiichan had prepared a simple Japanese breakfast for them: fluffy steamed rice, scrambled eggs, and a perfectly ripe banana—not to mention two fragrant cups of steaming green tea. But today, there was a big difference. Mack was surprised to also discover a bowl of cornflakes at his place.

“What's this?” he asked. “No anchovies? No porridge? No miso soup?”

Jiichan pretended not to hear him as he lifted a silvery anchovy to his mouth. Mack tried to hide his smile
but couldn't quite manage it. For months, Mack and Jiichan had disagreed on just about everything—from what constituted appropriate breakfast foods to Mack's name. Jiichan had insisted on calling him Makoto, while Mack preferred his more American-sounding nickname. Sometimes, it seemed like they couldn't agree on
anything
.

Then, on the first day of school, things had changed forever.

That's when Mack had learned a shocking truth about himself: he wasn't just an average, ordinary kid like he'd always thought. Instead, Mack was a Changer. As a
kitsune
, he had the rare ability to turn himself into a magical fox with a ton of otherworldly powers.