Free Edge of Seventeen by Cristy Rey

to pull away, Sunday
strengthened her grip, and willed them to calm down before she
could let them go. It took considerable effort, and for that
reason, Sunday rarely found herself in a situation like this. They
couldn’t have known how Sunday strained to handle their contact,
and they would never know, because Sunday would never tell
them.
    When Sammy’s husband, Carl, walked into the
kitchen, Kayla and Sammy startled and jumped back before Sunday
could put their emotions to rest. As panic filled her, she lost her
grip on the emotions she’d absorbed from them. On the counter below
where she’d focused her efforts, the toaster jumped, pulled its
cord from the socket, and slammed into the wall, sending a spray of
sparks before landing on its side. Sammy and Kayla yelped as Carl
rushed to grab a spatula and bang it to death. Sunday finally
managed to gather her wits about her and forced herself to relax
with slow, steady breathing. As her heart rate settled, the toaster
stilled. Carl smacked it two more times before he was certain the
danger had died down. Exasperated, he looked at the women huddled
by the table.
    “Is everyone okay?” he asked, gasping for
breath. Fear drenched and confused, Carl appeared well out of his
depth.
    The women beside Sunday were reeling from
their shock. Kayla’s hand trembled slightly. Suddenly, Kayla and
Sammy broke out in nervous laughter.
    “Thanks for saving us from a toaster, big
guy!” Sammy teased. “Husband and total dragon slayer. How did I get
so lucky?”
    The tension washed out of the room as they
took in the ridiculousness of the situation. Everyone laughed,
including Sunday, but Sunday’s laughter wasn’t like the rest. The
more she forced it, the closer she came to heaving. It was a
complex dance. If she didn’t maintain an even-keel, a wild toaster
was the least of the damage that she could do. Very rarely, Sunday
reminded herself, does an explosion of energy result in the raining
of rose petals on a crisp autumn afternoon.
    “What were you three doing that you set a
toaster on fire?” Carl asked, smiling. He walked to the
refrigerator and pulled out a can of juice.
    “Oh, nothing. Except that Sunday is joining
our book club,” Sammy chimed lightly. She threw an arm around
Sunday’s waist and pulled her closer. Sunday bit back the urge to
push her friend away. The punctuation of her words made Carl raise
an incredulous eyebrow. Kayla clapped her hands and squealed with
delight.
    “Your book club.” He shot a humorous gaze
between his wife and Sunday. “Sounds exciting.” Popping open the
can, he took a sip and shrugged before walking out of the kitchen.
From the other room, he called out back to them, “Watch out for the
microwave when we all decide to go to Disney World.”
    As soon as he stepped out, Kayla slapped
Sunday’s arm. Had Sunday not been chiding herself for losing
control of her ability, she might have reciprocated the playful
gesture. Instead, the best she managed was a weak grin and a shrug.
These were her friends. This was the life she’d chosen for
herself—the one she’d wanted so desperately to work. That’s how the
Incarnate’s arm was twisted into tagging along to some half-assed,
wannabe esbat.
    “Don’t be such a bitch about it, Sunny,”
Sammy teased. “Eunice is going to be there, too. You like her,
don’t you? I don’t think you know anyone else there.”
    “You know, because you’re essentially
antisocial,” Kayla cut in.
    “Except for you two, right?” Sunday answered
with a forced smirk.
    “Exactly. But like I was saying, at least
you’ll know Eunice, and you actually like her so there’s that.”
    Eunice was a casual acquaintance of
Sunday’s. At their initial meeting, Sunday instantly made Eunice
for a witch. It wasn’t something she did or something she said.
Eunice’s palpable caretaker aura was as clear to Sunday as the
woman’s salt-and-pepper hair. What the coven lacked in Sammy and
Kayla utter and