“Yeah, I’m sure. Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too.” I watched her go inside with the cloud trailing close behind.
Birds were chattering to one another in a nearby tree, and the air smelled like wet grass. I pushed my hearing out to the birds, testing my ability. I concentrated, sending it in an invisible, pencil-thin line, then bubbling it around them. The birds sounded as if they were perched on my shoulder.
The heightening of my sense of smell and taste had come together the night of the fire, leaving a deadly flavor in my mouth. It had been like being stuck in a small, closed, unvented room with a smoking barbecue grill. I had no way of knowing I could control it at first. I’d thought I was dying or going insane.
Every year or so, the nightmare would return as a new sense blossomed. My head wanted to explode when my hearing enhanced. Hundreds of voices and sounds within a mile radius shouted like blaring televisions with no volume control. I couldn’t hear my own cries.
My enhanced vision, the fifth and final sense, welcomed me into my preteens. At least I could close my eyes with that one.
Mastering each sense had taken major practice, not to mention causing migraines, vomiting, and nosebleeds. Being able to hear and see and smell everything within a one-mile radius was major sensory overload. And unfortunately, perfect health did not make me immune to pain.
I’d been to the doctor only for annual checkups. Other than the migraines, I never got sick. Cuts and scrapes and bruises healed in a matter of hours, sometimes less. It wasn’t like on television, though, where a superhero’s gash closed and mended itself in seconds before your very eyes. I could watch it happening over the course of a couple of hours, like a flower tilting and opening to the morning sun, but who had time for that?
I missed a lot of school during those days. The only advantage of having no friends before ninth grade was having nobody to explain myself to. At least I had Patti. She’d fostered me as an infant, adopting me as soon as the states of California and Georgia would allow. I was old enough to call her “Pat-Pat” by that point.
I couldn’t hide the physical side effects of everything I went through, but Patti nurtured me through it all with no questions. She brushed my long hair with care when my sense of touch developed; it felt like each tangle would mangle my scalp forever. It hurt to move my arms because of the sensitive skin and muscle.
When a plague of migraines came and I couldn’t keep food down, Patti somehow got her hands on serious prescription-strength painkillers that would supposedly knock out a grown man and have him sleeping for hours. After the first one, I felt a blessed sense of drowsy relief for about twenty minutes, then the blistering pain broke through again. Patti was horrified when she found out I’d taken six in one afternoon. The label warnings said to take no more than two per day. After she took them away, I searched the house with a blind obsession all week, but never found them.
Each physical sense got easier to rein in as I gained focus. Eventually I was able to use my normal sensory levels at all times unless I chose to strengthen them, which might have been fun if there was someone to share it with. Only there wasn’t.
The hazy little clouds were everywhere, following people. Every person had one. I stared at them outright all day, which I’m sure made me seem even weirder than usual.
I watched Jay’s move around him as I switched books at my locker.
“What’s up, birthday girl?” he asked, glancing around himself. “Do I got a spitball on me or something?”
“No, nothing. Sorry.” I forced my eyes to his face. “I’m getting my license today.”
“Sweet. Good thing Patti’s car is a stick shift. That means you can drive mine, too.”
“Good thing,” I agreed. Jay’s car was a clunker. It made Patti’s old sedan look mint.
I slammed my locker and we let ourselves be herded by the crowd to our classes. When Jay wasn’t looking, I discreetly reached out to touch the white cloud in front of me, and my hand went through it. I turned to Jay.
“Want to go to that end-of-the-year party next Friday?” I asked him. He bumped knuckles with the president of the drama club going the opposite direction. A girl from the dance team swung her locker closed and gave Jay a flirty look as we passed. He stared over his shoulder at her before returning to our conversation.
“The one at Gene’s? You really want to?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “If Patti will let me.”
We were at my class now. Jay hitched his thumbs under the straps of the backpack on his shoulders.
“Listen.” He hesitated. “Just... watch out for Scott, okay?”