I quickly rinse mine off and set them in the near-ancient dishwasher—seriously, it’s amazing this thing even has electricity. When it runs, the whole house roars like we’re keeping a Cyclops in the basement.
Turning and leaning a hip against the counter as Stella adds her dishes next to mine, I wait for her to say more. She carefully rearranges my dishes in the bottom tray. Like the dishwasher cares if the plates are all in the same quadrant.
“I’d like to try the first one tonight,” she finally says. “I think it will really help you get in touch with your powers.”
Her voice is very calm and reassuring, like an elementary-school teacher’s. I’m instantly on alert.
“What exercise is that?” I ask warily.
She closes the dishwasher. “It will be easier if I show you.”
Ten minutes later, we’ve pushed the furniture aside in the living room and we’re sitting pretzel style on the floor facing each other. Though I try to keep my distance, Stella inches closer until our knees are practically touching. She reaches forward and takes my hands, placing them palm up on my knees.
This reminds me of the yoga class Nola once dragged me to. Not really my thing. If Stella starts talking about meditation and asking me to “om” to the goddess Shiva, I’m outta here.
“The exercise is called ‘Inner Contact,’ ” she explains, setting her hands palm up on her knees, too. “The goal is for you to locate the source of power in your body.”
Next she’ll be spouting Hindi and directing me into the downward-facing dog position.
“Close your eyes,” Stella instructs, her voice soft, melodic. “I am going to lead you through your body, and each time I say an area, I want you to focus all your energy on that part of your body. Picture your powers glowing from that spot, illuminating the entire room. Okay?”
I nod. I also roll my eyes. Thankfully Stella can’t see, though, since my eyes are closed. I’m willing to give this exercise a chance, but I’m skeptical. All this touchy-feely-New-Agey stuff seems like hooey to me.
“Toes,” Stella whispers.
I focus on my toes. Seriously, though, if my powers come from my toes, I think I’d be too embarrassed to ever use them again.
“Ankles.”
I shift my focus. I’m not sure how I’ll know when I’ve “found my powers,” but I keep trying.
“Calves.” She pauses long enough for me to shift focus. “Knees. Thighs.”
I follow along.
“Hips. Waist. Chest. Shoulders. Upper arms. Elbows. Forearms. Wrists. Fingers. Neck. Head.”
Okay, we’ve gone from toes to nose and still nothing.
“Now I will move on to the organs,” Stella explains. “You will need to shift your focus inside your body.”
I nod. I’m starting to feel really good. Quiet and at peace. Maybe there is something to meditation after all.
“Stomach.”
Nothing.
“Heart.”
Nothing.
“Mind.”
Noth—
“Oh my gods!” Stella squeals. “That’s it, that’s it!”
I open my eyes, ready to ask her how she knows, but then I see it. The glow. It’s everywhere. It’s like my head is a giant lamp and the entire room is glowing in my light. (That sounds gross, but it is breathtaking.)
“Wow, that’s amaz—”
Knock, knock.
We both jump at the loud knock on the front door. Instantly, the glow is gone. I lost my focus.
“Who could that be?” Stella asks, climbing to her feet and heading to the door. When she yanks it open, no one’s there. The porch is empty.
I join her at the door, confirming that we just got ding-dong-ditched. I bet it was a ten-year-old from boot camp. That’s just the sort of juvenile prank they would pull.
“Weird.” Stella leans out the door, glancing around, then looks down. “Oh, here’s something.”
She bends down to pick up an envelope sitting on the welcome mat. Reading the front as she closes the door, she says, “It’s for you.”
“For me?” I echo. Who would leave me a note on the front porch in such a mysterious way? Actually, who would leave me a note period? Everyone knows I live on e-mail and IM.
But my name is penned neatly on the envelope in a thin, elegant script.
I rip it open and pull out the note inside. My jaw drops.
Want to learn what really happened to your father? χ∑ 597.11 FL76
“Holy Hades,” I gasp. Then my everything goes black.
The next thing I remember is Stella shaking me and screaming, “For the love of Zeus, Phoebe, stop thinking!”
Everything in the room is swirling around me—except for Stella, who has me in a total death grip. The living room is a whirl of furniture and plaster. It feels like I woke up in the Gravitron—that carnival ride where the floor drops out from under you as you spin against the outside wall—only it’s the room that’s spinning, not me. I blink away all the crazy thoughts of what that note might mean. As my mind shakes off the dizzy sensation, the room slowly returns to normal.