Chapter 1

Waking up at sunrise doesn't make me a morning person. There really isn't a choice of when to wake up—I wouldn't sleep later than sunrise even if I did have shelter for the night. The daylight seems to be connected to me somehow.

It's things like that that made me lose everything. I hate it, but there's no way to change it. I'd give anything to be normal, but I can't change what's inside me. I've tried. I thought if I could, they'd take me back. Now that it's been ten years—and six days—I've come to realize that even if I got rid of it, I'd still be the dangerous freak. Six days—almost a week since the anniversary. I don't know what I expected, but I thought something would change. Nothing did. Las Vegas is still Las Vegas, I'm still the freak, and the sun wakes me up every morning.

Time to move. My back aches from last night, and the rest of me is weary. It was a wild night. Six instances of sirens, four times waking up after hearing footsteps, and two screams from a mile away. I wonder how many more there were that I didn't hear. It hardly matters—I couldn't have saved them. Let's face facts—no one screams like that unless Death is at their door. I've learned how to hear the difference.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if not for It. The reservation is a lot different than the city I now haunt. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between hook-up and terror, that's for sure. I'd have been in school all the way through—maybe I'd be in college by now. Fourth grade is the last year I went to school. Ten years old, oblivious to what would come out from inside me and ruin everything, that's the last bit of normality I can remember. A month after the big double digits—that's all I had before my life went to hell in a handbasket. I remember the blurred fear and confusion as the people I loved, whom I was certain loved me, regarded me with disgust, disdain, even hatred. The worst was the realization that I was alone—totally and completely. The "hitch-hiking phase" is fuzzy; I remember lonely desert roads and smelly pick-up trucks I shouldn't have ridden in. My stomach constantly ached because there was nothing to eat for days at a time. I'm used to that now. Getting used to hunger was hard, but getting used to the grief was even harder. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. Magic is evil and dangerous, and so I had to be exiled for the good of the tribe. Knowing they had no choice didn't make it any easier. As a matter of fact, the ache in my stomach isn't as consistent as the ache in my heart even now. That's saying something. I still miss all of them, after almost a week and ten years.

Today is just another day. I have to remind myself of that because when I look back, these days will be a blur of hunger and running. There's less running these days, because Child services can't do anything about me now, but people don't usually take kindly to pick-pockets. My gift that isn't evil is my ability to vanish in a crowd. Being invisible to most people is something I use daily. I'm small, with nondescript features except my scar, so it isn't magical. It's social. People don't want to take notice of a dirty black-haired girl, so they don't. I'm just one of the crowd with a backpack and my hands in my pockets—when I'm not sneaking into someone else's. You never know what you'll find, a phone, wallet, cash, sometimes a snack. Sometimes there's nothing, but you just move on to the next sucker. Working in the streets of Las Vegas is probably easier than other cities because of the casinos. People moving in, out, and are usually intoxicated and carrying cash they've just "won". It makes my life easier, all in all.

So that's where I pick my way just after dawn, with my tired eyes, sore back, and aching stomach. It's time to break the law again.

A/N: Hi everyone! Just a Harry Potter fanfic set in America. Characters and plot are all mine, the world is not. I don't plan on using any characters from the books, but should I sneak them in, they obviously belong to Queen Rowling. Reviews are appreciated