Zapped (3 page)

“It sounds to me like they want you to write science fiction,” she said disapprovingly.

“Or fantasy,” Mom Tate put in over her shoulder. “Hey, you could write your own manga. Use your drawing skills!”

“Um, this is about learning about alternative viewpoints and cultures,” I lied frantically. “So let's say someone discovered that magical powers really exist.”

“Oh! Well. First bona fides would have to be established. Tests, blind studies, and of course it would depend on what these powers were. If they could harm anyone. The government would probably demand oversight, at the very least, especially if you're talking about Fairy Godmother powers, instead of someone who can, I don't know, say ‘Alakazam' and blow bubbles from their belly button.”

“The politicians would want a piece of them, of course,” Mom Tate put in, as she stirred something delicious-smelling in a pot on the stove. “
Think
of the growth industry in magic!”

They took off with that idea, straying into politics like adults love to do. As soon as I heard “Yeah, but the Republicans…” and “But the Democrats…” I tuned out.

I'd heard what I needed to: tests, blind studies, governmental oversight.

I didn't dare tell anyone. I was on my own with this.

The next day at school, I got to math as early as I could. All night I'd tossed and turned, imagining what Mercy would say, what I would say. What would happen.

Though we both took Japanese, I was a year ahead, having been able to take it in middle school in Hawai'i. So we only had math class together.

I got a real jolt when I walked in and there was Kyle in the back row, his chair tipping back dangerously. Everybody talked around him, like there was a force field circling his chair, except for two buddies sitting on either side of him. I slunk to my seat and sat down, not daring to look back.

When Mercy finally appeared, she barely looked at me. Just sat down, opened her books like usual, and bent over her work.

The teacher came in and pointed at the first row, the seat directly in front of her desk. Kyle sauntered up, his pants sagging so low they were nearly around his knees, and slammed his books down on the desk, the noise like a rifle shot.

The teacher said, “Do you really want a trip to the vice principal's office? Because we can get that over with right now. Everyone else is here to learn.”

“I'm sitting, I'm sitting,” Kyle said, and dropped into the chair, his long legs reaching out into the aisle between the seats. He hunched over, the way his gaze shifted around making him look so guilty it was like he was already in jail. After class, I got stuck behind a clot of students, and lost sight of Mercy.

At lunch, I ate at the Alliance room as usual. When the bell rang and I walked into the stream of people going to class, suddenly Mercy was there beside me, her fluffy hair framing dangling earrings that matched the light blue of her eyes.

We walked a few steps. It felt like about a mile, I was so uncomfortable, like, was she going to bring powers up or should I? So I said, “You're really a really good dancer.”

“Thanks.” Her expression lightened for about a nanosecond. “I love dance. More than anything.” Then she was serious. “You didn't blab.” Her voice was so soft I almost couldn't hear her.

I looked at her in surprise. We were exactly the same height, so I gazed right into wide, expectant pale blue eyes behind those glasses. My gaze dropped, because I'd learned that though you're crammed in with a million kids, you don't look directly at anyone else unless you're popular, or want trouble. “Nobody's business,” I said, wondering where this was going.

Then ice jolted through every nerve in my body when she said, “I saw you flash that pencil. And everybody was talking about the amazing basketball star who lasted a week.”

If it had been anyone else, I would have said, “What?” But there was that twenty foot leap.

I said, “He had it coming.”

“Michael didn't,” she replied. She grimaced and waved a hand as if to erase her words, then said quickly, “There are others.”

My heart nearly exploded in my chest. I gulped for air, unable to say anything.

She didn't wait for me to react. “We meet at the gazebo at Embarcadero Marina Park. Tomorrow, at four. You can get there easy if you have a bike.”

Then we reached an intersection, and she turned off to another hallway without another word.

*   *   *

I took my bike to school the next day, and afterwards, used my phone to guide me. The park was located on a narrow finger of land that stuck out into the bay.

I found the gazebo, and spotted Mercy's frizzy hair and oversized buttercup yellow tunic tee, with golden dangling earrings to match. With her, to my total surprise, was Harper, the vice president of the Alliance. Tall, thin, and awesome-looking, she wore her black hair in a kind of crazy pixie style. Her heavy make-up emphasized her Asian eyes. She always wore black lace fingerless gloves, and silver snake armbands. Her goth style was what you'd expect to see from someone who did not want, ever, from any angle, to be overlooked as Normal. She was cool, she was popular, and she was a junior.

I'd tried to draw her.

So here she was now, sitting at the other end of a bench from a guy whose sideways cap hid his eyes. He slumped down, his saggy pants halfway to his knees. Sitting across from them, on the same bench as Mercy, was a girl even scrawnier than Mercy, wearing a Catholic school uniform.

Harper said to me abruptly, “You're Laurel Ibberts? Supposedly you have a talent?” She sounded almost hostile, but then she leaned forward a little, eyeing me, then her tone got about five levels friendlier as she said, “Haven't I seen you at Rainbow?”

“You mean the Alliance?” I said. “I joined the first day of school.”

“We used to call it Rainbow, but that got voted out,” Harper said, still friendly. “Keep forgetting. So you have a talent?” She waved at the others. “We meet here partly so nobody can nose in, but also in case we have to prove ourselves to someone new. Fletch, tell her what you can do.”

The guy tapped his nose. “Give me something you've touched. Then give me half an hour while you run. I'll find you.”

Harper held up her gloved hands. “You could call mine psychometry. I see memories. Bec there turns unnoticeable, as long as you look with both eyes. And don't touch her. “ Bec looked at me then looked away as she chewed on a hangnail. Eugh.

“So, Laurel, what's yours?” Harper asked me.

I looked around. Some slob had littered a soda can on the walkway. I zapped it to my hand, and then to the trashcan by the gazebo entrance; when I did the zap, I saw all their eyes widen at the tiny flash of light.

Fletch sat up a little straighter. “That one is seriously cool.” He turned to Harper. “I sure hope you can figure out if, and how, we can learn other people's talents.”

I am pretty sure my mouth was hanging open as Harper said to me, “Does anyone in your family have a talent?”

I shook my head.

“Where were you born?”

“Hawai'i. Naval base.”

Harper leaned forward and said, “Did you know there were others?”

“Not until yesterday, when she showed me her leap,” I said, nodding at Mercy.

Harper shot a dead fish eye in Mercy's direction, then lifted her chin as if tossing something away. She said flatly, “Okay, good find.” And to me, “You probably have a lot of questions, but first let me ask one more. Have you ever heard of Sorsam?” And when I shook my head, she pulled from her purse a glittering silver chain necklace, with a peculiar charm, shaped like a very fancy S, only made with three intertwined almond blossoms.

“Wait,” I said. “I think … I think I've seen something like that. On a picture my dad has, of my bio-mom. We only have a couple photos. But in one, she's wearing it. She was pregnant with me.”

That hit them all, and Harper nodded. “We think that ‘Sorsam' is some kind of investigative body, or scientific group, or maybe a group of talents. Whoever runs it, or recruits for it, is keeping it a dead secret.”

“The operative word here,” Fletch said, “being
dead
. As far as we know. Which is why nobody wants to do a serious net-search on Sorsam.”

Harper shot him a look, and he sighed and slumped back again, as she went on. “
Something
happened around fifteen years ago. We all had a parent or a relative who was part of Sorsam, and who disappeared. My uncle, Bec's mom—”

“My grandmother,” Mercy said.

“—Fletcher's dad. They must have done something, or something was done to them, before they disappeared, but we all were born with talents. I think I've found a few others on the Net. But I have to be careful in searching for them.”

“Why?” I asked, looking around as if spies would pop up in flashes of light. “Oh. Right. Because those people disappeared?” Was it possible my bio-mom didn't dump me, that she got taken away?

Fletch said, “Would
you
want to meet whatever made them go…” He snapped his fingers.

My shoulders tightened. “No.”

“So far, it's all kids under eighteen, and all had a family connected with Sorsam. That's all we know so far.”

“In the meantime, we four have agreed on two rules. One, whoever else we tell about our own talents, we don't share anything about anyone else.” She gave Mercy this snaky look, and raised her voice a little as she said, “I haven't even told my girlfriend Avery. Not about this. None of us want to end up as governmental lab rats, even if Sorsam come looking for us.”

I nodded. “Ahead of you there.”

Harper went on, “Our second rule is: do no harm. We've only been meeting since spring semester. But we all agree we should pool our talents to help the community in some way. Michael Abrams is gay, so I think what happened to him is a hate crime. I intend to find out who did that to him, and if it was Kyle Moore—who swears he didn't, and his brother swears Kyle was with him all afternoon that day—if it was him,
whoever
it was, I
will
get justice.”

Everybody agreed, with me nodding fervently.

Harper went on. “I've tried twice to get close enough to Kyle Moore to read his memories, but I have to have skin to skin contact for my talent to work, and he's all covered up in those flannels and saggers, plus he hangs out in the middle of a crowd. And his mother has been right outside school to pick him up at the last bell. So Michael is the next best thing. I need to get into Balboa Hospital.” She turned to Bec. “Would you be willing to hide me?”

Bec looked terrified, her lips moving, “I'll try.” I could barely hear her.

“Hey, my mom does rounds there,” I said. “She's a doctor.”

Harper's lips parted. “This is awesome. Could you get me in? All I need is five seconds.” She pulled her glove off and flashed her palm.

“If we can convince her that it's something for school, I think I can,” I said. “I don't know about getting in his room. I know they are strict about that. But I can get you to his floor.”

“Just get me in the door. We can do the rest.” Harper nodded at Bec and Fletch, then gave me a smile of approval.

Fletch said, “That it? I've gotta run. Text me when you've got a plan.” And in my direction, “If you ever go out for any sport, I'll bet on you. Just kidding, just kidding,” he said, holding up his hands as he grinned at Harper.

Everybody split up then. I walked to my bike, and got out my phone to lead me back home. I saw Mercy a little ways ahead, also on a bike. When she looked back, I waved my hand for her to wait, and she did.

“What's Bec's issue?” I asked. “I mean, is it me, or does she always give people the silent treatment?”

Mercy said, “She and Fletcher go to other schools, so I don't really know them. She told us that she's in a foster home. Her talent helped her keep away from her abusive dad, until Child Protective Services got in the case.”

What would have happened if she hadn't had her talent? I got that crawly feeling in my neck, and felt sorry for the girl. No wonder she bit her fingers raw. “You guys say ‘talent.' I've been calling mine the zap. I think I always had it, but I discovered it this summer. How about you?”

“Same deal,” Mercy said as we pedaled out of the park and onto the street. “I guess I always had it, but I didn't like getting ahead of my twin sister, Dom—”

“You've got a twin sister?” I interrupted, and couldn't help exclaiming, “I always wanted a twin sister. Does she have a talent, too?”

“Nope.”

“Does she know about yours?”

“Nope.” Mercy looked away, her fingers tightening on the bike handles, and I realized belatedly how many times she'd probably heard that same stupid thing about twins.

I said quickly, “Sorry I cut in like that.”

Mercy turned my way, her smile flaring, then she said, “Well, anyway, I kept pushing at Dom when we were really little, especially when the parents got us started in sports. We used to play in this park below our house, just the two of us. She tried to keep up. Really hard. Maybe that's why she's a soccer star now.” Mercy's grin went crooked. “When I figured out she couldn't spring like me, and it was making her feel bad, I hid it. Except…” She looked away again. “When I'm running alone. Hey,” she interrupted herself, noticing me trying to steer the bike, look at her, and at my phone map. “I can give you directions.”

“Thanks.” I threw my phone in my backpack, then said, “So how did you guys all find each other? I take it there was no Facebook invite for people with mysterious powers.”

“So far, all by accident. Fletch met Bec at a church thing. Harper found Fletch through her brother a few months ago, when Fletch won some award at a sports camp they both were sent to. She found a way to get close enough to touch him. Saw his memory using his talent. She found out my talent the same way.
Totally
by accident.” She made a face, then looked away.