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It starts at my heart and spreads from there. It shots
through my veins and rushes through my body continuously. I can feel it
coursing under my skin, through my arms and towards my hands. My heart pumps
blood just like anyone else’s. In through one side and out the other, keeping
me alive. It gives me life.
The sun
beams through my bedroom window and I watch it glaze over my fingers,
silhouetting them in the air. My hair sprawls like a halo around my head as I
bring my hands closer together. Birds chirp outside my window and I know I
should leave my room. But there is a comfort in being alone. When I’m alone no
one is telling me to keep my hands covered and not to touch anyone. No one is
telling me to hide myself.
My fingers
tingle once the blood rushes to them. The electric buzz I get is almost a high.
My emotions are running high and so is my energy. I tremble as I let my fingers
collide, feeling my heartbeat in their tips. If they touched someone else, if I
was allowed to touch someone else, my energy would flow into them and give them
life. I could fix their broken bones, cure their illnesses, mend them and make
them whole. I could fix the world. But instead I’m sitting on my bed zapping
energy into my own body and listening to the birds living life outside my
window.
The rapping
on my oak door breaks my concentration and forces me to look up. I shouldn’t be
fooling around anyway.
“Ya?” I ask
loud enough to be heard through the wooden barrier.
“Liv? We’re
going to go out and get some ice cream, want to join us?” my dad’s deep voice
calls.
I shake my
head, trying to rid my depressing thoughts. I should be happy to be alive and
safe.
“Ya, I’ll
be right out,” I say, finding light in my voice so he won’t worry about me.
“Great,
meet you out here.”
I spin my
legs over to the side of the bed and push myself into a standing position. When
I’m alone too long I start to think about what I can do and why I can’t do it.
It’s dangerous to be alone with your thoughts sometimes. In that way, I’m
normal, in many ways I’m normal. But in many ways I’m also not normal and
that’s what scares me.
I grab my
blue hooded zip up sweater from the hook on the back of my door and shrug into
it. I check myself out in the mirror above my dresser to make sure I’m descent
to go outside. I spin my almost brown hair inside an elastic and settle for
that. I open my door to meet my family but jerk back to grab my black leather
gloves from my dresser.
Hardwood
creaks beneath my socked feet as I make my way to the living room. We live in a
small house that pretty much consists of our three bedrooms, a bathroom, a
kitchen and a living room. My room is at the end of the hall, my sister’s
beside that, and at the end nearing the clearing to the living room is my
father’s. Most of the floors are hardwood save for the living room and kitchen.
It isn’t much, but it’s enough for us. It’s hard to afford luxury when there is
only one income in the household. I try to help out as much as I can, but my
job doesn’t pay me enough for the three of us.
I turn the
corner to the living room and I’m greeted with shiny white teeth from both my
dad and sister.
“Livy,
we’re getting ice cream!” my younger sister Quinn exclaims as she ties her
sneaker.
She is
eight but still acts like a child around me. I love it because it makes me feel
wanted. She never knew our mom so I’m the closest thing she has to one and I’ll
do anything to make her happy, even if it means letting her talk to me like a
child.
“I know
Quinny! What kind are you going to get?” I ask, smiling down at her as I walk
closer to the both of them.
Positive
energy is flowing from both of them. If I were to focus hard enough, I’d be
able to feel their pulses, see their lifelines careening through their bodies.
When I was young, I couldn’t really control what I felt or saw, but now it’s
second nature to tune it out.
“I don’t
know yet! I’ll have to think about it all the way there!”
“Ok, me
too,” I reply, falling down on the carpet beside her and grabbing my pair of
black and white Converse sneakers from beside her.
I tie the
laces quickly and then stand back up. I slip my gloves on before holding out my
hands to help Quinn up. She puts her small hands in mine and I use all my force
to lift her into a standing position. I long to feel her smooth hands against
mine, to hold her hands for real, but I know it’s not possible. Her hands slip
from mine and she skips to the door to be the first to the car. She pulls open
the heavy wood door first and then springs the creaky broken screen door away
from her and disappears outside. My dad and I share a quiet smile before he
follows suit with me in the rear. The screen door flings shut behind me and I
cringe, knowing it won’t last another winter. I walk down the beat up concrete
steps onto the black driveway. Quinn has already stolen shotgun from me so I
slip into the back seat. I don’t mind being overlooked by Quinn because my dad
and I both love her and would do anything to protect her. I know I would.
At least
our car is new. My dad pulls out of the driveway smoothly and I turn my
attention to the world outside my window as we start the trek to the ice cream
store. Our small town doesn’t have its own ice cream store. In fact, it doesn’t
have much of anything. As we drive down the main road we pass pretty much all
it has to offer: a grocery store, a book store, a couple small shops, a dance
studio, a few restaurants, a bar, and the coffee shop I work at. It isn’t much,
but it’s home.
We turn the
corner and head East out of town. We pass a small sign that says THANK YOU FOR
VISITING FREEDOM, ALBERTA and I chuckle to myself. My life has never been about
Freedom and it’s just too ironic for me to think about.
Farmland
stretches on either side of us. I’d count the cows but I know the number off by
heart. Quinn sings along to some pop song on the radio and I just focus on the
grass surrounding us. I’ve only ever known Freedom. We’ve never gone travelling
past Edmonton and even when we go there, it’s just for the West Edmonton Mall.
All I’ve ever known is farmland and small town country life. In school, my
favourite subject was Geography. I learned everything there is to know about
Canada and decided early on that I would see all of it. When I told my dad this
plan, he told me it was safer to stay here and I knew he was right. “Keep it
secret, keep it safe” he’d tell me when I was Quinn's age, as if what I could
do was like the power of the ring in The Lord Of The Rings, as if I could
destroy the world. But I did as I was told and I’ve been doing as I’ve been
told all my life. I wear my gloves everywhere and I don’t try to fix anyone. I
pretend I’m normal.
Twenty
minutes later we pass the small green sign saying we’re in Westlock. Fields
turn into buildings and gravel turns to sidewalks. My dad pulls into the
parking lot of the walk up ice cream shop and Quinn's giddiness rubs off on me.
There are no problems in Quinn’s life and getting ice cream makes her so happy.
I miss the days of innocence and freedom, the days where the only care in the
world was what flavor of ice cream to pick. My dad parks the car and Quinn is
the first out. I hear my dad’s husky chuckle as he steps out too and I smile.
Even if I don’t feel free, I’m happy because I have a good family and I
wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world.
I fall
behind as my dad jogs to catch up to Quinn. I shove my hands into the pockets
of my sweatshirt and smile as my dad reaches her, scooping her up into his arms
and swinging her through the air. Her laughter catches the wind and it sings
around my head. There’s enough life in her to live for the both of us.
“Come on,
Olivia!” my dad calls to me, Quinn’s small fingers wrapping three of his.
I could be
jealous of her for being able to touch my father like that, but I’m just glad
one of us can. I smile and jog towards them, leaving any thoughts of envy
swirling in the northern wind. This is my family and that’s all that matters.
The chill
from the ice cream cools my whole body. My dad and I sit on the top of an old
picnic table watching while Quinn plays with a couple of other kids on the
small lawn beside the ice cream shop. The wind carries her laughter back to us,
as it always does, and I smile. It’s a soft song filling my ears and I never
want it to end.
“Something
going on in there?” my dad asks, nudging my shoulder with his and causing me to
turn to him.
His brown
understanding eyes are ready to listen to whatever I have to say. There are
only two people in the world who know what I can do and my dad is one of them.
I should be able to tell him anything. Yet the answers are always the same. I
open my mouth anyway.
“Keeping it
secret kind of sucks sometimes,” I answer honestly. I don’t even need to
elaborate.
My dad
sighs but I can tell that he knew whatever was bothering me had to do with my
ability.
“You know
it’s what you need to do. We can’t risk anyone finding out what you can do,” he
answers like it always does.
“I know,” I
answer like I always do. It’s the same conversation yet we have it all the
time.
“I wish you
could be who you are too, trust me, I know you can do great things, but you
know why you can’t show people right?”
“Yes,” I
let out, a shiver crawling up my back. It’s not from the ice cream.
The day my
father told me why I had to hide my power was the scariest day of my life. It
was the day the nightmares finally made sense.
I am not
the only person in the world that can do strange things. There’s no telling if
there are others exactly like me, but there are others. I’ve never met anyone
and I probably never will, but I know they’re out there because there are
people looking for us. The Trackers: a government agency created solely to look
for us, to track us down and take us somewhere hidden so they can do
experiments on us and find out what makes us different. I’ve only heard the
stories from my dad so who’s to say what parts are real and what are not, but
what I do know is that I can’t let anyone find out what I can do. It is safer
to keep it secret. As long as I’m safe, my family is safe.
“I’m sorry,
Liv, I wish things were different. But if we want to live here, if we want
Quinn to be safe, you can’t use your power,” my dad says the words I hear over
and over again but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear them.
“I know,
dad.”
We watch
Quinn as she laughs and runs around and I know he’s right. It’s about keeping
her safe. It’s about making sure she can live a normal life even if the rest of
us can’t. I’ve made worse sacrifices.
“Sometimes
I wish I was normal,” I breathe out.
This is not
something I usually share with my father.
I hear him
shift on the picnic table and I see his shoulders slump as he rests his elbows
on his legs and laces his fingers together. He doesn’t have the answer for this
statement ready like all the rest.
“Never wish
to be normal, Olivia. One day you will do great things, please remember that.
One day this will all be worth it.”
As I watch
Quinn live freely without fear and doubt, I wonder if my dad could be right. I
am far from normal.
