Carrie Vaughn - Dreams of the Golden Age

She didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t want to have to explain it, and she didn’t want to hear what they’d have to say about it. Time passed, she grew firmly into adolescence, and her family stopped watching for what power she’d develop. She began to move furtively through the world, because she didn’t want anyone to guess.

Her power—any power—had to be good for something, she’d thought then. She still thought. Otherwise, why have power at all? She just had to figure out how to use hers.

And then her best friend, Teia, came to her with a secret, and Anna began to hope.

Teddy and Sam had another argument about getting paint all over the inside of his car, until Teddy finally stripped to his boxers and stuffed his outfit and Lew’s paintball gun into a couple of grocery bags and put them in the trunk. Teddy sat in the front seat, arms crossed, pretending he wasn’t shivering. Blushing red the whole time, with Anna trying not to stare at the curve of his bare shoulders. The three of them piled into the backseat, practically in each other’s laps. She thought about offering to sit in Teddy’s lap to warm him up, but that would embarrass them both, and they’d all had enough embarrassment for one night.

Fortunately the drive wasn’t too long.

“Who was that guy?” Teddy finally said. They’d all seen the stranger make that epic leap out of the park.

“I don’t know.”

“Was he checking us out?” Teia asked.

“Probably,” Anna said.

“You think he goes to Elmwood?” she asked.

“No, he’s older than that. Maybe he goes to the university.”

“So much for being careful,” Teddy grumbled.

“He wouldn’t have stuck around to talk to me if he was planning on giving us away,” Anna said.

Sam looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You sure he’s a good guy?”

“I don’t think he’s a bad guy.”

“I don’t like it,” Teddy said. “Guy’s sneaky.”

“Maybe you should give him a break until we know more.”

“You think he’s hot, don’t you,” Lew said, grinning.

Teia turned to her, disrupting their precarious seating arrangement. “Is he? Hot, I mean?”

“I don’t know, he was wearing a mask. Don’t worry, if he blows our cover, I can track him down and blow his.”

Teddy craned around to look in the back. “Can you do that?”

“Sure,” she said, but she didn’t know if she could. She’d never purposefully looked for someone she’d met only once. She hadn’t even seen his face. But he’d told her his name. It was a start.

“Well, no worries, then,” Sam said.

The route took them past West Plaza first.

Anna told him, “Sam, don’t go to the front of the building, pull around back.”

They said good-bye s and see you at schools, Teia leaned over to give her a hug, and she clambered out while a reorganization went on around her. From the sidewalk, she watched Sam’s sedan drive away. Teddy waved at her through the window.

The secret elevator took about twice as long to work its way back up to the penthouse than it did to glide down. Thank you, gravity. On the way up, the thing creaked, and Anna could feel each tooth of each gear catch stiffly in its sprocket as the old mechanism cranked on. She was sure she’d get stuck, but she didn’t, and finally she was in the stairwell, through the door to the real elevator, then up to the penthouse, and back home.

The only complication: Her hindbrain sense located her father in the kitchen, not the bedroom. He was waiting up for her, and the only way to sneak into the penthouse was to walk right past him. Her first option: hide somewhere. Don’t go home at all. He couldn’t wait up forever, and as soon as he gave up, she could sneak in and pretend like nothing had happened. Except that her father wouldn’t give up, and he already knew she was here, dithering. He could feel it.

Second option: walk in and face him. To do anything else would delay the inevitable. Fine, then.

She let herself in. The place was dark except for the faint circles from a couple of night-lights in the kitchen and hallway. Enough to find her way to her bedroom, and she didn’t make a sound on the carpet. But the moment she crossed the kitchen, the lights came on. Her father was standing next to the light switch. She wasn’t surprised.

“You’re out rather late,” he said, his English accent coming through strong. He did that for effect, when he wanted to intimidate. He wore a button-up shirt tucked into his trousers. He’d dressed for the occasion. Smiling wryly, he leaned against the wall.

Her heart pounded, but she forced her mind to stillness. Don’t think of anything, or if she couldn’t go blank, think of the beige carpet or green grass, anything but what was actually at the front of her mind. Shove it far back, bury it, and maybe he couldn’t see it. She certainly couldn’t let her thoughts run wild, flailing, where he could read them on the surface without even trying. She’d had a lot of practice at this but couldn’t guess how successful she was. Arthur Mentis, the Olympiad’s telepath, never let on what he did or didn’t know.

She had to assume he knew everything. But just in case he didn’t …

She hated it. She could never stop paying attention around him, which often made her want to avoid him. Which wasn’t fair. He was her dad, she didn’t want to avoid him. But she didn’t want to tell him anything, either.

Nobody else in the world had this problem.

“Hi,” she said. “Um. Can I go to bed now? I’m kind of tired.”

“I imagine you are. Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”

“Um.” He waited. “Yeah.”

“I’m sure you had a very good reason for being out and about in the middle of the night.”

“Um…” She tried to think about school, homework, the library. Maybe he’d think she’d been out studying. That was a good reason, right? As if he’d actually believe she was studying. There was no point in saying anything when he’d know she was lying, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Can you at least tell me how you managed to sneak out of the building without alerting security?”

“Why do you even bother asking? You already know.”

“As a courtesy.”

She swallowed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

God, he just stared at her, as if he could split her open by looking. And if she stood there long enough, with him hovering over her, she might spill it all. She inched away from him, down the hallway, hoping he’d just let her go.

He said, “Anna. There’s no shame in asking for help. Or advice. Or for anything at all, really. We’re here for you.”

She choked up a little on that but fiercely shut down the emotion, not thinking or feeling anything at all. “I know. I’m okay. Really.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. But nothing will stop us from worrying.”

“Good night, Dad.”

“All right. Sleep well.”

She scurried down the hall and to her bedroom, relieved. That could have gone so much worse. At least he hadn’t gotten her mother involved.

ARTHURcame back to bed around three in the morning. Celia was waiting up for him.

“Well?” she asked, as he closed the door and began unbuttoning his shirt in the glow of the lamp on the nightstand.

“That girl has so much on her mind I can hardly make sense of it all. Poor thing.”

“But she’s okay, she’s not hurt or in trouble?” She had reconciled herself to not learning the details. But she wanted reassurance. A basic, simple yes or no. Was it so hard?

“She’s fine, for now. But she’s determined to have this secret life of hers.” Tension in his mouth, around his eyes, showed through his habitual calm. His anxiety made her even more anxious.