Free Manipulation (Shadows) by Jolene Perry Page A

nose, thin, straight body and deep eyes. She’s gorgeous. Like flawless, looks like she stepped out of a magazine gorgeous. Why am I here?
    Better question.
    Why is she here?
    “Have you always been able to do this?” she asks.
    “Since I can remember.” If Jeremy had it too, we might be able to see each other once in a while, but I questioned him a lot before we were separated and he definitely can’t manipulate people. Obviously my random talent wasn’t enough to keep us both safe from Mom.
    “Me, too.”
    “What do you use it for?”
    She laughs. “Mostly inconsequential stuff, really.”
    “Ever stolen anything?”
    “When they give it to you, it’s not really stealing.” She chuckles.
    I raise my eyebrows, actually surprised. But I pegged her for spoiled, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.
    “Okay, fine.” She sighs. “I had a saleslady give me a pair of Manolo Blahniks, but I felt bad so I returned them.”
    “Very good of you.” I take a long drink of chocolate, a bit amazed I’m having this conversation.
    “What about you?”
    “Only the kind of stuff that puts me in front of a judge.” I wag my brows—let her think what she wants to with that.
    “Guess that’s me, too.”
    But I don’t think either of us wants to talk about that now. The table is silent for a moment.
    “Do you ever feel weird, like some kind of a… I don’t know. Weirdo or something. For being able to do this? I think it sometimes bothers my sister.” The edges of concern or worry wrinkle at her eyes and forehead.
    “As soon as I have that thought, I feel lucky for what I can do. I mean, I have control over it, you know?” That thought of me being an anomaly has creeped in, but I have control over when I do and don’t do things. That makes it feel okay.
    “Yeah.” She smiles, looking more relaxed. “Thanks.” She pulls out her phone. “Give me your number.”
    “I’m not home much.” Did I just sound like a jerk?
    “Not your home number. Your cell.” She rolls her eyes.
    “I don’t have one.”
    Her mouth drops open. “How do you not have a cell phone?”
    “Because most everyone I know lives in the same neighborhood, and…” Why does this suddenly seem like such a crazy thing? It’s just a damn phone. I’ve managed just fine, but now I feel stupid for not spending the money.
    “And you don’t get out much?” She smirks and sits back.
    “I didn’t say that.” Why does she have to look like she knows everything?
    “I would die without my phone.”
    “Really?” Why do all girls need to be so dramatic to get their point across?
    “Well.” She lets out a breath. “I guess… Actually sometimes I wish I didn’t have one.” Her tone has completely changed. She sounds… small.
    I want to ask her more , but it’s probably none of my business. Instead I give her my number.
    She rests her chin on a hand. “I just realized I left Ellie who’s now probably going to be picked up by our mom.”
    “Right.” I take a sip of my hot chocolate, kind of wishing I’d have blown my wad to get something that had some amount of masculinity.
    “My mom is what you would call…” She glances out the window, maybe deciding if she wants to say anything. “Mostly absent.”
    “I used to have one of those.” Only she was also on drugs, and just mean when she was around.
    “And now you have foster parents?” Her eyes catch mine again, and I have to force a breath in so I can speak.
    “Yep. They’re okay. It could be worse.” I suddenly want to know more about her. I’m realizing as we talk that she probably doesn’t talk to anyone. I at least have hippie quasi-parents and Katy. “How old’s your sister?”
    Addie’s face breaks into a smile. I’ve hit a good topic. “She’s eleven, a breath from twelve.”
    “My brother’s thirteen.” And I miss him like nothing I could explain.
    “The one you don’t see?” Her smile fades.
    “It has to do with the never-present mother who said some