Free Dreamveil by Lynn Viehl

bleachers were deserted today, however, and as they went to sit by the dugout he began to see that his parents weren’t just upset; they were frightened.
    “Mom?”
    Bridget sat down and took his hands in hers. “Last night, Andy, when you were touching the wall, what did you do?”
    “I fixed the pipe.” He searched his parents’ faces. “Didn’t I?”
    “Mr. Crowley cut a hole in the wall to look at it. The pipe did break there. At least . . .” Bridget stopped and looked helplessly at Ron.
    His father crouched down beside him. “How did you fix the pipe, boy?”
    “I felt it through the wall,” Drew said, trying to put the strange feelings into words. “The metal. I could feel where it was broken. Then my head got hot, and the heat went down my arm and into the wall. It made the pipe go back together.”
    “You felt the metal.”
    Drew nodded. “It feels funny. Like . . .” He paused to search for the right comparison. “Christmas morning.”
    “Does it now?” Ron fished a handful of change out of his pocket and put it in Drew’s hand. “Can you show me with this what you did to the metal?”
    Drew frowned at the coins. He couldn’t feel the dimes or the nickels or quarters. “Not with all of them.” He picked out five pennies and handed the rest back to Ron. Then he concentrated, bringing back the warm feeling in his head as he held his hand open.
    The pennies began to dance a little, which made him smile, and then he made them stand on end and roll in a circle. He spun the pennies faster, pouring more of the heat into them, and they began to stretch and melt into each other.
    “Dear God in Heaven,” he heard his mother whisper.
    Drew felt proud. He made the pennies join together into a solid ring, and then pulled back some of the heat so it wouldn’t burn his hand. When the copper stopped spinning, it was a perfect circle, the same size as the pretty bracelets his mom liked to wear.
    It was cool to see what he couldn’t last night, not with the wall in the way. He looked up at his dad. “That’s what I did, kind of. Is it okay?”
    His mom’s fingers trembled as she took the bracelet. “It’s only a little warm.” She handed it to Ron, and then covered her face and began to sob.
    “Mom?” Drew threw his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
    “No, darling. It’s all right. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She choked back her sobs and wiped her face quickly before she rubbed her hands over his arms. “It was just . . . a surprise, sweetheart. But a good one.”
    Drew wasn’t so sure about that. The only time he’d seen his mother cry that hard was the day he’d woken up in the hospital.
    “Andrew.” His father looked stern now. “Does anyone else know you can do this thing? Have you told your friends at school?”
    “No, sir. Just you and Mom.”
    “Good.” His gruff voice sounded less strained now.
    “Now listen to me, boy. We can’t be telling people outside our family about this, ah, thing you do.”
    He almost asked why, and then he considered what he could do. No one that he knew could make metal dance. Well, there was Magneto in the X-Men comics, but he was a villain. Drew could never be a bad guy. He squinted up at his father. “I’m kind of like a superhero, aren’t I? That’s why we have to keep it secret?”
    His parents exchanged another long look before his father said, “Yes, Andrew. That’s why.”
    Bridget squeezed his hands in hers. “You have to be careful with this, darling. Being able to make the metal dance is fun, I’m sure, but metal can be hard and sharp, and you could hurt yourself. Your friends, your teachers, or even me and your dad. Do you understand me?”
    On some level Drew knew that metal would never hurt him, but his mother was right—he might accidentally burn someone when he made it hot, or cut them when he made it into different shapes. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She kissed his forehead. “Now I think we need to