But it’s best not to think too much like that. Best not to think about what I can’t have.
I remember Gran too, with her bees, her boots and chickens, and the muddy kitchen floor. The last time I saw Gran was when they took me away. I was in the Council building and was told that Celia was going to be my “guardian and teacher.” That was the first time I saw Celia, the first time I heard her sound, her Gift that could stun me. It seems like a lifetime ago. Celia felled me with her noise and they carried me away and I had one last sight of Gran looking old and frightened, standing alone in the middle of the room where I had my Assessments. Now I look back, I think Gran knew she’d never see me again. Celia told me she died, and I know they drove Gran to kill herself like they did my mother.
I know now—
What’s that?
Footsteps! At night!
My adrenaline kicks in.
Control yourself! Listen!
Light footsteps. Light enough to be a Hunter.
I turn my head slowly. See nothing. The cloud cover is heavy and no moonlight gets through to me here in the forest.
More footsteps. More adrenaline.
Shit! That’s more than adrenaline—that’s the animal in me.
Then I see her. A small deer. Nervous.
And the animal adrenaline is ready to burst out, the animal in me wanting to take over.
Calm! Calm! Breathe slowly. Count the breaths.
One in slow and out slow.
Two in slow—and hold—and out slow.
Three in slow—and I can feel it in my blood, setting it on fire—and out slow.
Four in slow and it’s the animal in me, whatever it is that makes me change.
The deer moves away and is quickly lost in the gloom. But here I am, human, and the deer is not dead. I can control my Gift. Stop it anyway. And if I can stop it maybe I can allow it too.
I’m grinning. For the first time in weeks, I feel genuinely positive about something.
I’ve done well today, stuck to the lists, haven’t strayed too far onto the negative. I can reward myself with some good thoughts, things I reserve for special occasions. My favorite ones are of Annalise. And this is what I remember . . .
Me and Annalise
The two of us are sitting on the sandstone escarpment, our feet dangling over the edge. Annalise is fifteen; I’m still only fourteen. My leg is close to hers but not quite touching. It’s late autumn. We’ve met here once a week for the last two months. Since we’ve been meeting we’ve only touched once, the second time we were here. I held her hand and kissed it. I still can’t believe I did that. I was sort of carried away, I think. Now I think about it all the time, and I mean all the time, but I can’t seem to do it again. Annalise and I talk and climb and run around but even when we’re chasing each other I never catch her. I get close and then I can’t do it. I never let her catch me either.
She’s swinging her legs. Her gray school skirt is clean and pressed and neat. The skin on her legs is smooth and lightly tanned and the hairs on her legs above her knees are fine and blonde. And my leg is millimeters from hers but I know I can’t make it go any closer. I force myself to turn my head to look at something else.
The cliff is steep and the drop is long but doable as the landing is on sandy soil. The tops of the trees are moving and rustling, almost talking to each other, gossiping, and leaves fall in little gangs. A cluster descends toward us and even before she moves I know Annalise will try to catch one. She stretches out her hand, her arm, and then her body over the edge of the cliff. She’s going too far but she won’t get hurt if she falls, although maybe I should grab her, hold her. But I don’t move. She laughs and reaches out even further and catches the leaf, taking hold of my sleeve at the same time, and still I don’t touch her. I pull my arm back so that she’s safe but I don’t touch her.
She’s got the leaf. A small brown triangle from a birch tree. She holds it by the stem and twirls it in front of my face.
“Got it. No thanks to you! I nearly fell.”
“I knew you’d be OK.”
“Did you now?” She pats the leaf against my nose once, her fingers close to my lips. I move my head back away from her.
“It’s for you. Here, take it.”
I say, “It’s just a leaf. There are plenty of them around.”
“Hold your hand out. This is a special leaf. It’s one I caught, at great personal risk, just for you.”
I hold out my hand; I want the leaf.
She drops it into my palm.
“You never say thank you, do you?”
I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.
“And you never touch me.”
I shrug. I can’t tell her I think about every millimeter between us. I say, “I’ll keep the leaf.” And I push off from the cliff and drop to the ground below.
I’m at the bottom and I don’t know what to do now. I was hoping she’d jump down with me. I look up at her and say, “Can we talk about something else?”