Free The Liminal People by Ayize Jama-everett Page B

too.”
    â€œHow come the news hasn’t said anything?” the blusher asks. She believes every word from my mouth.
    â€œThe news doesn’t know. I’m sitting on it for as long as I can. Her father’s a politician, and Tamara wouldn’t want to be part of anything that would ruin his reputation. . . .”
    â€œSo, who’s she to you, then?” Again, the brash smoker. Not as brash this time. Investigating. She wants to believe me.
    â€œLike I said, we’re . . . friends. She means a lot to me. She was acting weird before she disappeared. Came to the clinic where I work, all the time. We started talking, went for coffee. Oh God, I just realized how that sounds. I’m not attracted to her. I mean she’s a beautiful girl, but I’m not . . .” They make my excuses for me, eating out of the palm of my hand. To them I’m a sexy but shy intern who’s fallen in love with a girl too young for him. They’d kill their own mothers for me now.
    â€œAwright, luv,” unabashed Southie smoker says, patting my cheek. “We’re all right here, yeah? An’ none of ours been in spits breath of her since she disappeared yeah? But if you want to find her, it’s that one over there, been looking at yaw since yaw come over here, yaw got to talk to, yeah?” She points past the park to the corner where I’d been standing. Another girl, not in uniform but around the same age, holds up a wall with her shoulder. She’s frail, not more than one hundred and ten pounds, and dressed like she just raided the cool kid’s store. Green button-up blouse, half-open, with a gray wifebeater underneath. She’s wearing leggings of some sort, and a black trench coat three sizes too big for her. And she’s got yellow sneakers that look like boxing shoes laced on to her feet. When she sees me looking, she starts walking away.
    â€œYou shouldn’t smoke” is all I leave the Catholic girls with, taking the cigarette out of Ms. Brixton’s mouth. I fix her asthma at the same time. I turn, marching toward my first real lead, suddenly feeling stupid in my scrubs.
    When she rounds the corner, out of eyeshot, I reach for her body with my senses—and find an electrical storm in her brain. She’s like me. I quit faking nonchalance and begin to run. I hit the corner hard and spot her at the end of the street. She’s tensed and ready for a fight. Whatever she’s got going doesn’t block my skills. I could take her out in a second if I wanted to. But she knows where Yasmine’s daughter is, so I play it smooth.
    â€œI just want to talk,” I say, closing the distance between us by half. Her respiration is through the roof. Her eyes are dilating. She’s using her power. But not on me.
    â€œWhat did you do?” Her voice betrays her youth. She can’t be more than thirteen.
    â€œNothing. I’m just looking for a friend.”
    â€œYou felt me. You touched me.” The distance makes yelling the only way to communicate. I try to come forward, and she raises her hand. I’m half expecting fire or ice to flow from it. When nothing happens, I continue walking toward her.
    â€œYes. I did. I’m like you. Do you know Tamara?” Why are all the dogs in these houses barking?
    â€œStay away.”
    â€œI don’t want to hurt you.” Only a manhole cover separates her and me now. “I’m just looking for Tamara.”
    â€œStay away from Tamara. She’s ours now.” She’s trying to sound tough, but her fear is evident. But so is the squall of heat from her mind. I’m about to push her heart into calming down when I hear a window behind me shatter. I turn. A fucking dog, a big one. German shepherd. Big teeth, all showing. He’s mad at me. I get it now. She talks to the animals.
    I turn to face the girl. She’s gone, but she’s left a few dozen surprises. Rats the size of