Free Simmer by Kaitlyn Davis Page A

faux-concentration. It reminded her of
when she used to pretend to be sick so she could stay home from
school, a sort of fake-it till you make-it mentality.
    "Mind if I step in?"
    Kira eyes jutted open to look for the source
of the deep voice: her grandfather. Stumbling out of her contorted
pose, Kira moved to shake his hand or say hello, but Luke beat her
to the punch.
    "Of course, Councilman Peters," he said while
stepping smoothly aside.
    Now that the Councilman had come forward,
Kira couldn't help but notice the other conduits had also moved in
closer, slowly creating a very defined circle around the podium.
This is not good, she thought as she gazed at the crowd, I have no
idea what I'm getting myself into. In a moment of clarity, Kira
realized this had probably been Luke's plan all along...the jerk.
She had absolutely no desire to be the center of attention.
    "Miss Dawson," her grandfather spoke, pulling
her out of her reverie. "Shall we?"
    "Uh, of course," Kira fumbled for words.
Turning to walk a few paces away from the older man, she saw Luke
position himself on the corner of the wooden platform, giving her
plenty of space to get in the zone. She turned in time to see her
grandfather drop his cane and slide it a few feet away from him. Is
this even a fair fight? She questioned and studied the old man who
was now slightly hunched over.
    "On my go," he said in his deep, rumbling
voice. "One... Two... Three..."
    Kira waited for the 'go,' knowing she would
let him take the first punch, if you will. He was such a man of
honor in this town; she didn't want to beat him. She would rather
look mal-trained than embarrass the grandfather she was hoping
could love her.
    "Go!" He finally said and Kira waited for the
hit. In an instant, a ball of power slammed into her stomach. She
had no time to dodge it, try to absorb it into her body or hit it
with her own shot. Instead, Kira was thrown back on her butt. She
landed hard against the wooden floor of the platform with the wind
completely knocked out of her.
    "Whoa," she said in a daze while sitting up
slowly. Her grandfather's power felt like steel and it oozed with
authority. With a smile Kira thought, I guess the old man still has
it in him.
    She caught the smirk on his face before he
replaced it with a focused frown. "Is that all you've got?" He
challenged and an excited gleam rose in his eyes. He seemed younger
with every passing second, Kira thought.
    Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Kira
jumped up at the ready. "Let's try that again."
    This time, when he uttered the word 'go,'
Kira was ready. She shot fire out of her left hand, hitting the
ball of flames he flung at her. The two fiery globes slammed into
each other and winked out of existence in midair. An instant later,
another burst of her grandfather's power was flying towards her and
she barely had time to meet it with her own flame. And another
after that, and another, until Kira was sweating with exertion and
panting from exhaustion.
    Her grandfather was fast and she was barely
keeping up with him. Twice already she had had to skip throwing her
power and instead absorbed his into her body. It was easier than
meeting his power in midair, but it took more time. Soon enough,
her grandfather was bulldozing her with his flames.
    At the exact moment Kira knew that her
strength had started to wane and had lost track of her
grandfather's movements, Luke shouted to her.
    "Left!" He screamed and Kira shot left,
deflecting a ball of flames she had not even noticed.
    "Above you!" Luke shouted again and Kira
could not help but direct her next throw up into the sky, hitting
another of her grandfather's globes.
    "Left, Kira. Come on!"
    "Right!"
    "Low! Move faster."
    "Center!"
    Luke continued to yell out commands and Kira
couldn't stop herself from following them. She wanted to do this on
her own. She wanted to lose to her grandfather on her own or win on
her own, without Luke telling her what to do. But, when someone is
telling