Free Silver Moon by Rebecca A. Rogers Page B

liquid from the pot. One sip later and I spew coffee into the sink. “Gross! How can people drink it this way?” I wipe the residue from my chin.
    Beth laughs. “You’ve never had coffee before, have you?”
    I wince. “No, not really. I thought it’d sound more grown-up if I said I had.”
    “Cream and sugar are by the pot,” Beth says, pointing to the powdered add-ons in glass canisters.
    “Yeah, yeah,” I say, reaching for both.
    “I’m closing up the bookstore and we’re going to visit Magena —the one I told you about last night.”
    My face scrunches. “What kind of name is that?”
    Beth’s shoulders drop like she’s really hurt by my comment. “She’s a really good friend, Candra. You’ll like her, I’m sure.”
    “I was teasing,” I say. “Why are we going to see her?”
    “She knows a lot more than I do about our ancestors. I thought you might have a few more questions in you about the powers and where they come from,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee.
    I pretend I’m in deep thought. “Maybe.”
    She grins. “That’s what I thought. I told her we’d be there around noon, for lunch.”
    I nod, dumping the pathetic excuse for a cup of coffee down the drain. I make it to the doorway when Beth stops me. One minute she’s behind me, sitting at the table, the next she appears before me.
    “How’d you—”
    “I wanted to say that I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” she says, ignoring how frightened I’ve become. “I know everything must be hard for you to grasp right now.”
    “Actually, it clears a few things up for me,” I say, hesitating with my words, “if that makes any sense.”
    Beth nods and rubs my arms. “I really hope you like it here. We don’t want to scare you off.”
    “Oh, you won’t scare me off. I’ve been through some tough shit, so even if you do tell me to pack my bags and go home, it won’t hurt my feelings.” The corner of my mouth twitches.
    Beth stares at me, like she’s considering what to say. She takes my hands in hers. “Well, we’re not going to send you home just yet. I think when you turn eighteen you should be the one to decide where you go and what life you choose to live.”
    I purse my lips. “Thanks,” I murmur.  
    She steps aside and lets me pass.
    Upstairs, I prepare to wash the night sweats from my body. Steam floats up my nostrils, filling up my lungs with moisture. My body is overloaded from mental exhaustion. I’ve replayed every word of the conversation between Randy, Beth and me. I’m still waiting for one of them to say it’s a really, really early April Fool’s joke.
    Deep down, I know it’s not.
    My wet hair clings to my upper back. I squeeze the excess water out. Grabbing a towel, I pat myself dry, and slip into a clean shirt and jeans. Lunch is a couple of hours away and I’m not sure what to do until then. Beth will be getting ready, and she’ll quite possibly consume the full two hours to do so. I’ve seen her in the mornings getting ready for work. She works at a bookstore for Pete’s sake, yet she gets all dolled up like she’s going to a four-star restaurant.
    I nosedive onto my bed, squealing when I bounce. For the longest time, I stare at my window, wondering if the eyes are out there.
    I know what you are now, I think. They frightened me at first, but not so much anymore. After today, I’ll learn about my past, present and, hopefully, future. The strange part about all of it is that I don’t feel different. I feel like the same me, not some overgrown beast. For now. Give me a few more months, and I might have a different opinion about the situation.
    One minute I’m lying in bed, the next—I find myself at the window, not really sure how I got there. The eyes hover directly in front of me, beckoning me to pursue them. It’s only the eyes, though— no body is connected.
    “I’ll be there in a second,” I say, but I see every action performed from a distance, like I’m dead and