Chapter Three

The Lake

Chloe was in a bad, bad mood.

Who did that Derek guy think he was? And did he really have to be so rude when she only just found out about being Gifted? Surely he remembered finding out himself, after years of being normal? To discover his powers, the fear and excitement, the awe and bewilderment?

She scrubbed out an illegible answer with the end of her pencil and scowled at the paper. Mr. Davidoff had assigned them reading questions about Alexander the Great, but she couldn't find it in her to even answer the damn thing.

How was she supposed to concentrate on history homework when she just found out that she was not normal, but a very, very rare the Gifted, one of the last ones out there? Furthermore, how was she supposed to deal with it?

She could always channel Derek and a complete ass.

As much as she wanted to, she just couldn't push her frustrations out onto everyone else; she wasn't that mean.

Growling to herself, she shoved away from her desk and pulled herself to her feet. A quick glance outside told her it wasn't anywhere near close to dark yet so she slid into some flip-flops and headed downstairs.

Why bother trying to concentrate on homework when she could practice something of actual use, something that could change the world, not stupid history.


Dry leaves crunched underfoot and the underbrush of twigs and dry bushes scratched her legs into ribbons, bloody little scratches that sung with every step. She shoved over low hanging branches and scanned over and over for hidden roots, ready to trip her any minute.

Every turn lead her further and further into the woods, the under bush thicker, the tree line pitch black now, trees so close together; it was like swimming in darkness, struggling through.

Any minute now, she'd hear some snarling animal and it would attack her and rip her throat out and no one would find her body.

Or maybe there was a serial killer on the loose, ready to slice into a defenseless teenage girl into pieces, where she'd never be found.

A violent shudder rolled down her spine, making her skin break out in goosebumps, despite the hot, damp temperature.

Even though it was bright daylight out, birds chirping, squirrels skittering, children laughing far off in the distance and cars passing on the road that wound through the woods, she still felt a chill, her skin cold and covered in goosebumps.

Every step felt like it was in the wrong direction, further and further into the bad feeling. For a minute, she stopped in a clearing, close enough to the road that she relaxed a bit but far enough into the woods that she would still be hidden from sight, a little grassy meadow about the size of a cul-de-sac with a tiny pond the size of a small car.

All her muscles relaxed as she walked to the pond, her feet aching and dragging through the dry grass. Sweat pooled on her skin, along the swell of her breasts and her spine, her shorts wet with it, her flip-flops squeaking with every step.

Her muscles twitched and quivered as she kicked off her shoes and tested the water.

It was cool, like an ice-cube or condensation on a cold glass. It was clear, pristine blue, a liquid sky, cloudless; leaves swirled across the surface with tiny black water bugs that bumped into her fingers lightly, like little fish bites.

She stuck her foot in, then the other, and then tested to see how deep it went; her toes squished into soft soil, even colder than the water, syrup thick. A bit of weight told her that the mud was solid and she slid in deeper, water rolling up to her knees, her thighs.

Her shorts rubbed against her skin, chafing the skin raw and red. Her tank top billowed out in response to an air bubble in the water, paper-thin now.

Thinking back to the other day, she tried to remember what she did. She remembered feeling anxious, tapping her fingers. Trying that didn't work.

Chloe drew in a deep, deep breath and closed her eyes; she imagined the blood in her veins becoming water, cool and smooth, a current under her skin, familiar as the heart beating in her chest.

In the forefront of her mind, a black expanse unfurled and a ripple in bright blue dripped down, branching out. A blade of grass hit the surface, sending out more and more ripples, a waterfall in her head now. The leaves turned to stones, plopping now, creating a splash and a wave.

"Hey," growled a voice, and she froze, the water turning into a frozen lake in her mind, ice crackling and hissing, popping as it spread, chipping away at the edges of her mind. Quickly, she opened her eyes and gaped at the sight before her.

Derek Souza, in his full long-legged glory, dripping with sweat in a tight t-shirt and running shorts and sneakers covered in mud and leaves, his face bright red with exertion and his hair pulled away from his eyes, stood in the tree line, his eyes narrowed at her.

She glanced down, too, and yelped in surprise. The entire pond was frozen now, numbing her legs and hips and toes, and the jagged coils of ice covered her arms, branching out towards him in claws. At her sharp intake of air, the ice melted away in the blink of eye and she found herself soaked in water head to toe.

He didn't make a move towards her, just wiped the sweat off his face with the edge of his sleeve.

"You fucking dumb ass," he sneered before he turned and walked away; with a burning face, she scrambled out of the pond and stumbled into her shoes, waddling after him.