Free Cold As Ice by L. Divine

first time I decided to stand up for my lineage at school. It’s been more tense around campus than usual for me ever since. “What else did he tell you?”
    â€œWell, he told me about you the first day of school last year. He was very impressed by your acting capabilities. He thought he met his leading lady in you,” she says, sipping her wine carefully so as not to spill any on her white carpet and gesturing for me to sit in one of the two oversize cream-colored chairs across from the matching couch. Damn, I thought I was almost out of here. I can hear Chance’s father in the dining room still discussing with his son what he thinks his wife should do about her fender bender. I guess talking to me is better than going back in there, and I don’t blame her. If Nellie doesn’t arrive soon, I’m going to head out, dinner or not. I can’t take too much more of Mr. Carmichael’s ego; there’s not enough room in this house for it and me.
    â€œHe’s not the only one impressed. I’ve never met anyone better at improvisation,” I say, looking down at my phone and praying that it vibrates soon.
    â€œYes, my son is quite the spontaneous one,” she says, catching a memory as it comes. Did I just see that memory, too? I think a little bit of my dream stayed with me from last night. Mama already stripped me of using my ancestor’s power once—now she’ll surely want to take my mom’s away from me as well. But maybe it’ll go away by itself, like a residual effect more than a new development in my gift of sight. “He’s been like that all his life.” The sadness in Mrs. Carmichael’s eyes is evident by the softness in her look. Her tone lowers as she recalls Chance’s childhood, and I share her silent memories.
    â€œI can only imagine Chance as a child,” I say, lying aloud. I can pretty much see the picture of her son’s first step forming in her head, and I also remember him as a newborn from my own visions.
    â€œCan you? I think you can actually see him as a child,” Mrs. Carmichael says, staring hard at me, which is making me uncomfortable. “My mind feels very cool all of a sudden. I remember this feeling from the seers back home.” Having a cool head is one of the side effects of my mom’s talent when she’s in other people’s minds. What does Mrs. Carmichael really know?
    â€œMrs. Carmichael, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s not like that.” I look over my shoulder toward the dining room, praying Chance will rescue me soon. I don’t want to be rude, and I understand his mom needs a distraction, but I don’t feel like being the court jester tonight.
    â€œOh no? Then what is it like? Because I have a feeling you know more than you’re saying.” Mrs. Carmichael takes a seat on the couch directly in front of me and continues. “Chance also told me what you said to him about having black blood.”
    â€œDoes he tell you everything?” Damn, Chance is more talkative than I gave him credit for.
    â€œNot everything. For example, he never told me he had a new girlfriend. And when he finally did tell me she wasn’t you, I was quite surprised and disappointed.” Mrs. Carmichael takes a large gulp of her white wine, now noticeably tipsy.
    â€œNellie is one of my best friends. You’ll love her,” I say, speaking up for my girl even though it’s clear Mrs. Carmichael favors me as her son’s choice. The last thing I need is for another homegirl to accuse me of trying to get in good with her boyfriend’s mother. Mickey’s already gone off enough about that. The truth is, I’m usually the one mothers hate; Carla and Mrs. Weiner—Rah and Jeremy’s mothers—are prime examples of that fact. KJ’s mom liked me, but KJ was an ass, so I’m not counting that lapse in judgment.
    â€œI don’t know