My skin felt like it was on fire, and just when I thought I might combust from the inside out, the trophy case erupted like a bomb had been set off within it. Pieces of glass flew outward, sailing in every direction. The kid behind the counter barely ducked in time to avoid being impaled by one of the trophies—an enormous green one with a giant gold star on top—as it hurtled end-over-pointed-end right for him. It smashed into a gazillion plastic bits against the wall behind him.
“Kyra.” The warning in Simon’s voice made me pause as I searched for him among the sea of faces.
He was scolding me, like I’d done something wrong.
I wanted to tell him he was confused, that it was the other guy—the one who had me in his death grip—who was the bad guy here. But I knew what he meant. The truth was reflected on every aghast face staring back at me, every O-shaped gape and horrified gaze. Even they knew.
I’d done all this—the blinking monitors that were still flashing wildly, the unexplained pins toppling over, the shattering trophy case.
Me.
“Crap,” I said, and then looked up at the boss guy, who’d finally released me so he could pick a small fragment of glass from his forearm. “I’m sorry.”
Natty gathered our shoes and gave me a pointed look. “Let’s go.”
This was our chance, she was telling me. While everyone was too dazed or too afraid to realize they could still stop us. They didn’t know my limitations.
And no one even tried, not even the boss guy. The crowd just parted. But there was no mistaking the whispers of “Did you see that?” and “What is she . . . ?” all jumbled together.
I’d gone from minor spectacle to full-blown freak show in the space of less than ten minutes. Must be some sort of new world record.
And now we weren’t just trying to go unnoticed in this nothing of a town until it got dark. Now, because of the scene I’d just caused, we had to seriously lay low, since I was pretty sure every single person in that bowling alley could probably describe all of us to a police sketch artist if asked.
Impressive.
CHAPTER TEN
WE HEARD THE COP CAR, WITH ITS SIREN BLARING, before we’d even cleared the parking lot of the bowling alley. If only that pimple-faced jerk behind the counter hadn’t been so quick on the dial, or if his asshole boss would have just made the deal when Simon had offered it . . .
Then we wouldn’t be in this mess now.
The black-and-white car turned into the parking lot just as Simon and Natty and I rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. I didn’t even have my shoes on yet before we were sprinting down a crushed gravel road, dust flying behind us. I could feel the sharp rocks poking at me beneath my socks. But we didn’t slow down.
Simon slammed into the wobbly wooden fence at the end of the road, scaling it in a single, nimble leap. Without hesitating, I followed, although I was far less graceful and suddenly wished I’d focused more on track over softball. When I landed in more gravel on the other side, I gasped, but Simon covered my mouth to shush me.
I stayed low, crouching the way he was as I searched the shabby-looking houses around us. Laundry waved on drooping clotheslines, and somewhere, inside one of the houses, a baby wailed. But other than the baby, it was silent. There were no dogs barking, no people talking, not even a television or radio in the background. No reason to think anyone knew we were back here.
Natty landed beside me and stared at me with her ginormous saucer-sized eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Simon, because I was sorry, for messing up something as simple as trying to stay hidden for just one day.
Apparently that was all the confirmation Natty needed. “So it was you? You did all that back there? The breaking glass and flying trophies? All without even touching them?” She didn’t ask it like she was accusing me of doing something shady. Instead, there was this hint of amazement, like she thought I’d done something really, really right.
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Holy crap,” she breathed. “And what about at the lab? That giant tube thing? That was you, too?”
“It’s not as cool as you think,” I whispered.
At any other time, I’d have been lying. The fact that I could make things happen—move things with my mind—even when I didn’t mean to, was sort of awesome. It was the part where it happened outside of my control that made it disturbing.
Besides, it was bad enough having Willow mooning over me because I’d saved her. I didn’t need Natty acting all weird too.
“Can you do it again?”
“I have no idea. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but I can’t figure it out. So far, I don’t know how to control it. I’ve been trying to move things for weeks.” I cringed, thinking of the scene back at the bowling alley, not exactly rolling a pencil across a table. “I have no idea why this was different from all those times.”
“What about the bowling ball?” she asked. “I saw you throw that. That wasn’t the same.”
Again, it was something I didn’t totally understand. “For some reason, if I’m not overthinking it, I can throw super hard, too. But like the moving things without touching them, it doesn’t work just because I want it to.” I’d practiced that too. After a successful attempt, in which I’d done some major damage to one of the storage buildings at Silent Creek, I’d moved my target practice into the woods and tried honing my skill there. But the results had been less than encouraging.