A/N: Hey everyone! Here is chapter one! I hope you guys like it. As always, review and let me know what you think! I'm open to suggestions for what you would like to see happen, after all, you guys are the ones reading it. Enjoy!
I speed all the way home. The good thing about living up here is that there are only two cops on patrol at the same time, and you almost never run into them. I hear my phone ringing. I glance down and see the name 'Jake' pop up. I smile to myself. I click the button that puts the call through the car speakers.
"Hello?" I say, the smile evident in my voice.
"Hey, are you busy right now?" He asks.
"No, I'm just driving home, but I have you on the car speaker." I say.
"Oh, sweet. So I was wondering if I could come over tomorrow. It's Saturday and I found the chapter about weird biological disorders that cause the body to react strangely. I'm guessing that's you…" He wanders off, careful no to offend me.
"I'll ask my parents, and they'll want to meet you. Every new friend I make- they meet. Oh! By the way, I wasn't at the beach today. I met you driving home from school. You were on the side of the road with a flat tire." I say, a bit more demanding than I intended.
"Uh…I don't have a car. Only a motorcycle." He says. I raise my eyebrows. I didn't take him for the motorcycle type.
"Oh. You had a flat tire in your motorcycle?" I say, more like a question.
"Not likely. But we can roll with that." He laughs. I smile. His laugh is adorable.
"Well I will definitely tell them tonight. It's just going to be me and my dad tonight. Ali's at her sister's house with the kids." I tell him, making a sharp turn.
"Who's Ali?" He asks, confused.
"She's my stepmom. My parents are divorced." I tell him.
"I'm so sorry. That must suck." He says. He sounds sympathetic.
"Yeah, well it did at first. But that was eleven years ago. It's fine now. Everyone's remarried and has kids." I explain the best I can. It's difficult.
"Yeah, my parents are still together, but all they do is fight. How many siblings do you have?" He asks. I'm kind of flattered that he's taken such an interest in my life.
"Four. Two sisters, one of them is six, and one is four. I have two brothers, one is eighteen, and the other one is two." I say.
"Wow. So you're all spread out, huh?" He says lightheartedly.
"Yeah. My older brother is the only full-blooded sibling I have, but I of course don't think of them that way." I interject, trying to not make myself sound snobby.
"How old are you?" He responds, cautiously.
"Thirteen." I say, trying to hold in my laughter.
"What?! There is no way you're thirteen! You don't…You have…How the…" He sputters loudly. I burst out in laughter.
"I'm just kidding. I'm seventeen. I'm a senior this year." I say. I pull onto my street.
"Ugh…The heart attacks you have given me today!" He exclaims. I suppress a giggle and switch the call over to my cell.
"Well, I'm going to go play sick. I'll text you?" I say, unlocking my door.
"Yeah, sure." He says. I click the end button, and close the door.
I make my way to bedroom. As soon as I open my door, I see Boris, my cat. His orange fur stands out from the stark white of my bed comforter. I whip over the blanket, and climb in bed. I call Boris and pat the spot beside me. He gets up and lets out a small meow.
I hear my phone buzz. I look down and see that I have a text from Jake.
Jake: Are you a good actress?
Me: Yeah :) I take drama classes. But of course, I have all natural talent.
Jake: Oh, I'm sure. ;p
Me: Gtg, I can hear my dads car! Wish me luck!
Jake: Good luck! Don't freeze anyone..
Me: Thanks for that.
Jake: Anytime.
I delete the conversation. My dad would ask too many questions if he ever saw the freezing anyone remark. I'll eventually tell him. When I get my powers under control. Until then, I can't risk it.
I hear my dad open the door, and walk in.
"Gabby?" He calls. I let out a small cough.
"In here." I croak. He walks in my room. I see him dressed in his mine dust-covered clothes from work. I look into his warm hazel eyes, the same as mine. I see that he's worried. I immediately feel guilty.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, taking a bottle of ginger ale and a cup of soup out of a bag I just realized he was holding. He bought me stuff. He spent his money on stuff I don't really need. The guilt intensifies.
"Dad…You didn't have to buy me anything." I say. He waves his hand, dismissing my statement.
"You're my daughter. I can spend my money on you. Here, it's chicken soup, and ginger ale." He hands them carefully to me. He places a calloused hand to my forehead.
"Your ice cold." He withdraws his hand.
"Yeah. It's the chills." I tell him, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm going to take your temperature." He leaves the room. Oh no. This is what I've been dreading. He's going to find out. My heart begins to race. I feel the armor return. This time, it's starting from my chest, spreading outwards. I look down at the glassy blue substance. I need to calm down. He returns quickly, holding the thermometer. I whip the blankets up, covering myself.
He hands me the thermometer wordlessly. He sits down on my bed, and calls for Boris. I place the thermometer in my mouth. This should be good.
After a few minutes of my dad petting Boris, and me glancing out the window, its beeps. My dad reaches for it, but I take it out immediately, as if it burned me. 45.7 degrees F. I'm about to click the button, but my dad swipes it form my hand, looking at the mini screen in shock.
His eyes widen, and his mouth parts. He looks to me, and then the thermometer. He keeps looking between us.
"How..." He trails off. He studies me for a second.
"You're not sick, are you?" He asks me. I look at him in confusion. Does he know? He couldn't possibly. He always had this weird knack for knowing when people are lying, and his judgement is never wrong about someone. It's like he has a sixth sense about reading people. He could know.
"How is that temperature possible? It must be wrong." I play dumb. I fake a worried expression.
"Stop. You're lying. You know exactly how this is possible." He hints. I blink.
"Dad, say it. Say what you're thinking." I tell him. I won't tell him, there is a small chance I could be wrong about him knowing.
"Honey, be honest with me, you've noticed changes lately. This temperature is one of them." He states blatantly. I feel the ice grow up my neck, as the stress increases. I sigh. He knows. I don't know how, but he does.
I rip the blanket down. I watch his reaction. He gasps.
"Is that ice?" He asks. I nod.
"I can't control it. It's like an armor. I've tried melting it, cutting it, smashing it, nothing works. I can also shoot ice from my hands. The cold doesn't bother me. I lied. I went to the beach instead of going home. I jumped in the ice water, and it felt warm. Then Jake saw me, and he tried to rescue me, not realizing that I'm immune to it. So he needed an explanation, and I had to tell him. I couldn't lie and get away with it. But he knows a doctor that can help me." I explain to him, he looks confused.
"Who is Jake?" He asks.
"The lifeguard. He almost got hypothermia, I was perfectly fine, and so I had to tell him. But he already kind of knew. He bought Dr. Suresh's book which is about people like me." I clarify.
"Dr. Suresh…He called me. He knows about people like us." He says. I freeze-not literally-well actually kind of. The ice armor hasn't left. But not in that sense.
"Us? Dad…Do you have a power?" I ask him.
"Yes. So does your brother." He says. How could he not have told me about this? I've been going crazy thinking something was wrong with me! The anger builds.
"Do you know how scared I was? I've been driving myself crazy, thinking there was something wrong with me! Why didn't you tell me?!" I outburst, the armor suddenly shoots down my arms and torso.
"You have to control your emotions. Especially since our powers feed off of the energy our emotions emit. The reason I didn't tell you was because I wasn't sure you had a power. It's dangerous knowing this. Jake is now as risk because he knows." My dad tells me. The anger disappears. I don't want to hurt anyone. Especially Jake. We just became friends.
"Dad, what am I going to do? He wants to come over tomorrow. I can't just never talk to him again. He knows, which means we have to protect him. I can protect him." I tell my dad. The ice starts to recede.
"Honey, you have such a great heart. I know that you can protect him, but with time and practice of your powers. You don't even know the limits of your powers." He tells me. I pout for a second. I can test them right now! It's just me and my dad here.
"I'm going to test my weaknesses. In case you guys need to diffuse me, you'll know how. I'm cold, and icy, the opposite of that would be heat and fire." I get up, and walk into the kitchen, my dad trailing behind me.
I fill a pot with water, and start the stove. My plan is to get the water hot enough so it will weaken me-if it will weaken me. In the meantime, I concentrate on getting the ice to disappear. I close my eyes, and imagine the feeling of the ice, what it looks like, the smooth glassy feel of it. I feel it starting to go away. I concentrate harder and the very last of it disappears. Now, I'm going to try and shoot ice from my hands. I haven't used this power at all.
I go outside, and focus on a tree in the distance. There isn't anyone around here for miles, so there is no risk of anyone seeing me. I close my eyes and imagine all my power going to my hands. I feel the wave of cold energy surge from my mind, down to my hands. I hold my palm out, and aim for the tree. Suddenly a huge ice crystal launches from my hand. It doesn't hit the tree, instead it flies into the woods. At least I know how this feature of my ability works.
I turn around and go inside. I walk in and see the water has tiny bubbles on the bottom of the pan. Perfect. I stick one hand in. The scalding hot water burns my hand. I try to get the ice armor to cover my hand and protect me, but it doesn't work. I focus harder. I know I can do this. I groan in pain and take my hand out. It's too hot. I examine my hand and see its red, and blisters are beginning to form. Something strange happens. The blisters disappear, and a thin layer of frost covers the injured parts of my hand. Confused, I brush it off, revealing smooth, clear skin. Wait…Did I just heal? Does the ice have healing properties?
I decide to test my theory. I grab a knife from the drawer. I take a deep breath. I slice a small thin line across the palm of my hand. I watch as the same frost sprouts from the cut, covering it. I brush it off, and see there is no cut, no scar, and no trace of it. I smile to myself. This is so cool! I look to my dad who has been watching me silently the whole time. In his face I can see happiness. He's proud of me. In this moment I know that with more practice, I can become something great. I can help people, and make my father proud.