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ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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“It’s not normal!”
“Katie, calm yourself.”
“Mom! I’m a Mover! A freak!” Kate slammed her closed fist down hard enough to rattle the table. “You tell me where the hell I got Mover genes from?”
“Since when did you begin to think swearing was appropriate?”
“Since I woke up floating at ceiling level!”
Pushing away her unfinished breakfast, her mother sighed. “Well, I suppose the time has come. Jack?”
Her father closed the newspaper with a rustle that was as familiar to her as breathing. “Margaret, dear—”
“Dad, my name is Kate.” She was used to her father’s lapses in memory. It was an unfortunate side-effect of being a high-level bureaucrat in the Ring.
“Yes, Kate.” He frowned at the interruption. “Movers lead very productive lives. Without them, we wouldn’t have Earth to Mars transport, or construction on the third satellite of Jupiter, or even simple things like high-rise apartments.”
“That’s not the point.” Anger was starting to fade into sheer disbelief. “We’re a family of Communicators. We have been for generations.” And that meant she should, under no circumstances, have awakened on her sixteenth birthday with the ability to move things with her mind. “It’s genetically impossible.” Which terrified her.
“That’s not quite correct, er, Kate.” Jack Brown folded the paper into a precise half and tugged at his tie. “Sarah, you’re better at this.”
Her mother’s blue eyes were utterly calm, as befitted her status as a psychotherapist in the Ring. “I’m afraid we haven’t been entirely honest with you, my dear. The geneticists we consulted said there was a very small chance the gene would ever manifest.”
“I knew it. I’m adopted.”
“Oh don’t be silly.” Her father whacked her on the head with the newspaper. “You just haven’t seen the entire family tree, that’s all.”
“What?”
“Entry to the Ring is strictly enforced.”
Kate felt her eyes widen. “You’re Passing?”
“No, actually we’re both Communicators. So were our parents.” The news was good but her father didn’t look happy. “It’s why we’ve been able to live successfully among the Ring-born.”
She suddenly understood everything. “But I can’t. I have to leave before my status is recognized.” Because genetic fraud was a crime punishable by death. Of the entire family.
“Yes, sweetheart. Don’t worry though.” Her mother attempted to smile and failed. “We’ve got contacts in the World. They’ll help you adjust.”
“The World. I’m going to live in the World.” It was a horrifying thought—the World was so impure, the Ring-born didn’t even breathe its air.
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To find out more about Nalini Singh’s contemporary romance novels for Silhouette Desire or futuristic paranormal romaces for Berkley, visit http://nalinisingh.com. Her latest release is Secrets of the Marriage Bed, and her first futuristic, Slave to Sensation, will be available in September.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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Prudence
Prudence set her fork down and drew in a deep breath. “Mama, Papa, I have something I wish to tell you.”
Her mama, Lady Harriet Pintwiddle, peered at her from the end of the long table. Despite there being no other family members in attendance—Thurston having gone off to fight Napoleon and Benjamin off raising hell, or perhaps studying; one could never be too sure about him; at Oxford—Lady Harriet preferred to utilize most of the expanse of the large table. She sat at one end, her husband at the opposite, and Prudence, their only daughter, smack in the middle betwixt them. With space for at least four other people on either side of her.
“What is it m’dear?” Her papa’s moustache twitched as he bit gustily into a crust of bread. “Some confession about the mess at Lady Blanthorpe’s fete, I’ll wager.” He chuckled and wheezed, inhaling a breath of crumbs, and resorted to gulping down half his glass of wine in order to stop coughing. “It was quite a sight, it was! Can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed anything more than seeing that Blanthorpe chit brought down a notch.”
“Pintwiddle, don’t be ridiculous. Our Prudence would have had nothing to do with the events at Blanthorpe’s last night. Why, she sat perfectly poised on the side chairs whilst that ridiculous Blanche Blanthorpe made a fool of herself. How could our Prudence have had a hand in her unfortunate experience? If you ask me, Miss Blanthorpe brought it all upon herself, with her airs and that tiny pointy nose always lifted so high!”
Prudence’s stomach twinged and pitched. It only made it worse that her parents disliked Blanche as much as she did. But she hadn’t meant to let things go so far! What were they going to say? Would they send her to Bedlam? “Mama, Papa, please…may I–?”
“Served her right, it did, after the way she treated our Prudence.” Papa, who had recovered from his bout of coughing, winked at her, then set to the leg of lamb that glistened on his plate. “If she’d have been a man, I’d have called her out.” Scrubbing at the jus that dribbled down his chin, he nodded firmly, as if the matter were settled.
“Well, I don’t disagree, Pintwiddle, but there’s no need to make jests about Prudence having anything to do with Miss Blanthorpe’s gown flipping up like it did. It was no more than a gust of wind from the patio, or that it caught upon the buckle or button of one of her admirers.”
“Never seen such knobby knees in m’life,” chortled Papa.
“Pintwiddle!” Lady Harriet gasped, her face blossoming puce.
Prudence wished to be anywhere but there at that moment. Her own face was burning, and her parents weren’t listening, and this was difficult enough as it was. It had been rather satisfying to see Blanche’s own face turn white, then pink with mortification as her skirts billowed up around her bosom, up and down, up and down, as if a gust of wind was swirling up and under them.
The consternation on the girl’s face as she tried to plaster the filmy, frothy yards of material back down over her lower appendages had more than made up for the pain of the subtle cuts and not-so-sly insinuations she’d liberally spread about Prudence and her family. It had been that last comment about Lady Harriet’s parentage that had clipped the final string of Prudence’s control.
But until she’d actually done it, Prudence had had no idea her powers, as she supposed she should call them, could do more than flutter the pages in an open book or lift a quill from the table.
Her parents were still distracted—Papa was chuckling into his lamb leg, and Lady Harriet was proceeding to lecture him about propriety at the dinner table and subjects that were not appropriate in front of young ladies—ergo, their daughter.
Prudence realized she was going to have to take matters in hand in order to gain their attention.
She narrowed her eyes as she had done last night, focused on the candelabra that sat in the middle of the table (her mother preferred the atmosphere of candles as opposed to gas lamps for dinner), and lifted it.
It wobbled a bit—she was still getting her bearings with this strange ability of hers—but the heavy cluster of candles rose straight from the center of the table to hang above them, casting her parents’ shocked faces into a strange glowing light.
Lady Harriet stopped her lecture. Papa set down his own fork and napkin, staring.
Then they both looked at Prudence, who sat perfectly still, her stomach in knots.
“Well I’ll be demmed,” Papa said, chuckling happily.
Lady Harriet’s eyes were glistening with proud tears. “We’d about given up hope, my dear Prudence! But now we know for certain!”
“What do you mean?” Something strange was happening inside her.
“You’re a Pintwiddle Witch!”
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Get more information about Colleen’s upcoming regency vampire slayer series and erotic retelling of Phantom of the Opera at http://colleengleason.blogspot.com. The Rest Falls Away, the first book in the Gardella Legacy series, will be available in winter of 2007.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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“Amanda, if you eat all those fries they’ll go straight to your hips,” Mom piped up the moment the three of us sat down on the hard plastic chairs in the food court.
“I’m not that hungry anyway,” I said, pushing some of my fries across the table and trying to work up the courage to talk about the real reason I wanted to see her.
“How’s the arm?” Grandma asked, while noisily smacking food from her dentures.
“It’s fine,” I answered, absently patting the sling. “I get the stitches out next week.”
“Only my thirty-year-old daughter could trip over her own two feet and break her arm so badly it needed surgery.” Mom gazed at the food court ceiling asking the mall gods to grant her the patience to deal with my clumsiness.
Biting back a scathing retort I calmly answered, “Something happened to me after the surgery.” I’d actually wanted to talk to my best friend Meagan but she was currently living in a Yurt on an organic farm in Oregon.
“This is the first time you’ve had general anesthetic. Don’t worry. It happens to everyone,” Grandma said, reaching out to pat my hand.
“It does?” I highly doubted we were discussing the same thing.
“Sure,” Mom agreed. “After I had all my womanly plumbing removed last year I was backed up for weeks.”
“You should’ve had a bran muffin instead of fries,” Grandma said wisely.
“I am not constipated,” I stated through clenched teeth.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mom said.
“Let me just show you the real problem,” I said.
Taking a deep breath I focused my gaze on a ketchup packet on our table. The small foil pack lifted into the air about four inches and spun around once before it dropped back to the table.
My mother opened and closed her mouth a number of times but no sound came out.
“Ever since I came out of the anesthetic I’ve been able to do stuff like that,” I whispered.
“Oh that’s nothing,” Grandma said with a wave of her hand. “Watch this.”
She offered a brief nod to the same ketchup pack. It lifted off the table, drifted toward the mound of fries, tore open slightly and then proceeded to squeeze ketchup in an intricate zigzag design all over the fries. “I’ve been able to do that ever since I married your grandfather fifty-two years ago.”
“I think Penny’s is having a white sale,” Mom announced, leaping to her feet and running away from the table as if her ass was on fire.
Grandma sighed. “She’s never handled this kind of thing well.”
I shook my head slowly from side to side. “What kind of thing are we talking about exactly? Are we witches?”
“Oh for goodness sakes, no,” Grandma chuckled. “Although certainly some of your ancestors were burnt at the stake for having telekinetic powers. Oh don’t look so mortified, my dear. It’s no different than you inheriting my green eyes and your father’s curly hair.”
“This can’t be happening.” I turned and faced her. “If I’ve inherited this, this weird ability from you, why did it only show up now?”
“It seems to only become apparent after a significant moment in one’s life. Like your arm surgery.”
“And for you, that moment was marrying Grandpa?”
“Well, actually, for me it was after the first time we, well, you know . . .” She winked. “For your father though, it was after he had his tonsils out.”
“Wait a second, you mean to say that Dad also has this freakish thing going on?”
She wrinkled her nose. “We’re not freaks, Amanda. I like to think that we’re just more highly evolved.”
I watched her remove her upper plate and wipe it with a tissue. Obviously, somewhere along the way evolution had made a wrong turn.
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To find out more about Wendy Roberts’ mysteries and women’s fiction, visit http://wendyroberts.com. Her debut, Dating Can Be Deadly, is available now!
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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“Were you ever going to tell me?” Jessica Zorn asked lightly as she passed the potatoes to her mother.
Even though she hadn’t lived at home for at least five years now, Jessica always tried to make it for Sunday dinner. Normally it was a much louder and hectic event, but on this night her younger sister was away at some sports training camp so things were quiet. Which suited Jessica perfectly.
“Tell you what, dear?”
“That psychic powers run in the family.”
Her parents froze. Her mother had a spoon full of mashed potatoes midway to her plate and her father had a knife sunk into his steak. Any doubt that her parents knew she would develop supernatural powers disappeared in that instant. The parents who hadn’t batted a lash at her getting arrested for streaking when she was fifteen, or chaining herself to a tree when she was 19, or even when just last year she’d been expelled from yet another college for letting the lab animals free, were now not only speechless, but frozen in position.
“Hello?” She glanced from one to the other. When that got no response she kept talking as if they were having a normal everyday conversation, and not one that would change her life forever. “I found out a couple of days ago that I could move things with my mind. Telekinesis it’s called. I was also told that it’s very likely hereditary. And that got me thinking. I always knew you guys were keeping a secret from me, but I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting something quite like this. I thought maybe you would some day tell me Aunt Rose was really a man or something.”
She forked a piece of meat into her mouth and chewed while she watched her parents, who had at least sat back in their chairs now and were staring at one another intently. When they still hadn’t spoken aloud by the time she finished chewing and swallowing, she lost the light and
easy tone of voice.
“If you’re talking to each other mentally or something, stop it.” She put down her fork and leaned back in her own chair. “I’ve had enough with the secrets in this family and if you two don’t talk to me right now, and tell me what the hell is going on, I’m going to get up, walk out the front door, and never come back.”
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To read Sasha White’s erotica and erotic romance, visit http://www.sashawhite.net.
She has books out with Liquid Silver, Virgin Black Lace, Amber Quill Press, and upcoming releases with Kensington and Berkeley, such as Bound, a June 2006 release.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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The street in front of the casino was blocked to traffic. Pink and blue lights flashed on the faces of a crowd of tourists gazing up. At the top of a hundred-foot pole, on a tiny platform, stood my dad. His arms were down, head down, eyes closed, like he was concentrating with all his might.
Poser.
Every few seconds he swayed a little as if he were about to lose his balance, and the crowd gasped. At the base of the pole, my mom in her stilettos, gold spangled bikini, and enormous feathers slapped her hands over her mouth and squealed, pretending to fear for his life.
All this time, they had let me fear for his life for real!
“He’s a fraud, you know,” I said to the guy next to me, loudly enough for my mom to hear.
“Of course,” the guy said without looking at me, still watching my dad. “They all are.”
“No, I mean he hasn’t trained his body through long years of concentration. He hasn’t even made the effort to construct an illusion. He has telekinetic powers that keep him from falling. He’s totally cheating!”
The man chuckled to placate the crazy girl and make her go away. No one was going to believe me.
So I cupped my hands around my mouth and called up to my dad, “You have freaking superpowers! Why aren’t you the President?”
“Zoë,” my mother scolded me through the crowd. “You’re breaking the frame.”
She meant I was diverting the audience’s attention from my dad, ruining the illusion. But who cared, when there was no illusion to ruin—when the fake illusion was the real thing?
I called, “Why do you make Mom dress up like Miss Nevada lost a wrestling match with an emu?” I gave him a little shove with my mind, take that.
He started back like he’d been physically pushed. Someone screamed.
Enormous feathers pushed their way through the crowd toward me. I wondered how my punishment would change now that I knew about my powers, and my dad’s. Electroshock when I tried to steal my mom’s cigarettes? Telekinetic spankings? A force field around my room when I was grounded?
Before my mom could reach me, I called once more, “Why do we live in a two-bedroom house with the paint peeling in big patches so it looks like a Swiss cheese? Why aren’t we cashing in? Why?” I gave him a harder shove. He tumbled backward off the platform, but at the last second—imagine!—managed to catch the edge with one hand. Even at this distance, I could see his muscled arm trembling with the fake effort of pulling himself back onto the platform.
My mom reached me and gripped me hard. Her lacquered fingernails dug into my arm. I prepared to be defiant in the face of her fury. But she wasn’t furious. She was afraid.
“He can stay up there, but not if you push him off!” she whispered. “Women’s powers are much stronger than men’s.”
Dad let go.
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Learn more about Jennifer Echols YA and adult romances at http://www.jennifer-echols.com/. Her first book, Major Crush, will be released in August by Simon Pulse.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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MIND OVER MATTER – PROLOGUE
“No, mom! I’m going to see him and you can’t do anything about it!”
My fingertips tingled with rage and I felt like my chest was about to burst. I was so mad I could have sworn I’d shot up the ceiling and my feet weren’t touching the ground.
Everything else receded in the background. All my fury-filled tunnel vision let me see was my parents’ horror-stricken faces. I shot them both a look so murderous that I’m sure would have killed if I’d only had the power. I wish I did. Telling me I couldn’t see Paolo anymore was crossing the line. I swear to god, this was the last time they were telling me what to do, when to do it, who to do it with. So what if they supposedly sacrificed everything to come to this country? It wasn’t like I was the only one who benefited from that boat ride from Cuba to America.
Suddenly, my dad’s hands flew to his chest. His face turned purple and he began emitting a sickening gurgle.
“Enrico!” my mom screamed. She flew to his side as he slid to the floor. That’s when his convulsions began. The twitch was slow at first, and then it exploded into a full-on seizure that rolled his eyeballs to the back of his head.
My mom lost it. “Marissa!” she screeched, cradling my dad’s head in her arms. “Call an ambulance!”
But I couldn’t move. It was like my feet were glued to the ground. All I could focus on was my dad’s breathing. As if in slow-motion surround-sound, I could hear it amplified inside my head.
Shooosh…shooosh…shooshh…
It was inexplicable. How was I hearing his heartbeat? The swirl of his blood rushing through his veins? His ragged breathing as he struggled for air?
“Marissa!” my mom screamed through my hypnotized state. “What are you doing? Stop it!”
What was she talking about? “Stop what?” I asked over the howl of the wind. “I’m not doing anything!”
But she burst into sobs and gripped my dad’s head tighter to her chest. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to him? Fine, you can see Paolo, just don’t kill your father!”
Don’t kill my…
Suddenly and without explanation. the tunnel vision disappeared. I turned my head around and noticed that things were flying in the room. And I mean, flying. As in the lamps started levitating. The pictures on the walls began spinning. A fierce, cold wind began blowing. And my dad…
“Marissa!” my mom shrieked one more time.
I snapped to. I took one step forward, my feet suddenly mobile again, and everything stopped. The lamps dropped with a crash, the photos stilled, and the wind disappeared.
My anger suddenly vanished, replaced by a terror that shot through my veins. “Papi?” I murmured. He’d stopped moving and was now deathly still. “Mom?” I met her gaze and through her sobs, saw accusation in her eyes.
But what did I do?
“Johanna…” My dad croaked my mom’s name as he grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t…”
But through her tears, she shook her head. “No, we can’t hide it from her anymore. We have to tell her.”
“Not…time yet,” my dad wheezed. “She’s…too…young…”
“No.” My mom’s voice was suddenly firm, her hysteria gone. “I told you something like this might happen. But did you listen to me?”
What the hell were they talking about?” “Tell me what?” I interrupted. “Papi, are you okay? Do I need to call 911?”
To my astonishment, my dad suddenly sat up. After several deep breaths, color returned to his face. And then five seconds later, he stood on his feet and smiled, as if he hadn’t been about to have a major coronary just five minutes ago.
“Let’s get this cleaned up, shall we?” he said, ignoring my question.
“Enrico…” I recognized the warning in my mom’s voice. “We need to tell her. What if she kills you next time?”
“What are you both talking about?” I shouted, feeling my temper rise back up. “Something strange is happening! Didn’t you see the lamps flying? The paintings spinning? And dad, what the hell happened to you?”
“Enrico!” my mom screamed. “Tell her now! Before she does it again!”
“Tell me what?!”
My dad paused and it was obvious from his face that there he was fighting an internal battle.
“Papi? What is mom talking about?”
And then with a resigned sigh, my dad sat down, loosened the collar of his shirt, and looked me straight in the eye. “Marissa, you know what just happened here? With the spinning portraits and the flying furniture?”
“Of course!” I snapped. “How could anybody miss it? But what’s that got to do with me?”
He held a hand up as if in self-defense. “You did that, mamita.”
“What?” I shook my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He took his time wiping the sweat that poured down his forehead. I bit my lip, trying to control another tantrum. I swear, if he didn’t explain himself in five seconds…
He put his handkerchief away and faced her. “I mean, Marissa, that you’re responsible for all that. You see, you have telekinetic powers. You can move things around with your mind—even stop people’s hearts if you wanted to. You’ve had that ability since you turned eighteen, just like your mother and me.”
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To find out more about Karmela’s heart pounding action-adventures and science fiction romance, visit http://karmelajohnson.com. Her first book, The Garrison: Evidence, debuted this month!
Note: scroll down for more GBVE entries…
We’ve now posted six of the twelve entries that comprise the Great Blog Voice Experiment. Are you all enjoying yourselves so far? Learning something?
Or, are there detractors in our midst? People who say, “these scenes are all alike!” I know you’re out there. (I can employ Google as well as the next person.) Mainly, I’m disappointed that you would present your “findings” as if I didn’t warn you about them straight up in the intro, or assume facts not in evidence from the entries. I’m all for constructive criticism and I hope that this experiment sparks conversation. I would like to have an in depth discussion about writerly voice. I’ve been impressed by how well it shines through, even for writers who are working outside their established genres. Jana’s entry, in particular, blew me away.
And for those of you who may thinkt here’s nothing more to see, stay tuned. The Writers in the Great Blog Voice Experiment are about to show you how truly wild and wacky they can get. You haven’t begun to see the possibilities.
So, what do you guys think? Let’s talk below.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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“Come on, Cassie, help me. I have an appointment with my parents in …” Brenda glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to her bed. “… 37 minutes.” She chewed her lower lip and let her gaze circle the room, seeking the perfect object.
“You made an appointment to talk to your parents?”
“Yeah …” The Ficus tree? No. Too … ordinary.
“Brenda, kids do not make appointments to talk to their parents.”
“Maybe you don’t, but Bob and Mary insist on it.” What about her computer? No, her parents would probably freak out. Rule #61: Expensive gadgets are to be revered in direct proportion to their cost. At $4,396.53, Brenda was lucky she was allowed to use her computer.
“You call your parents ‘Bob’ and ‘Mary’?”
Brenda whipped her gaze to her new friend. If she weren’t in the middle of something really important, she’d find Cassie’s bulging eyes comical. “Cassie, are you going to help me or not?”
Cassie’s flat chest heaved dramatically. “All right.”
“Good. Now, I need to find something that’ll impress them.” Brenda turned back to her search. “Hey, what do you think of this?” She climbed on top of her desk, being careful not to touch her computer lest it topple to the floor and land her on restriction for sixty months. She unhooked the mobile hanging from the ceiling and laid it flat on the desk. “Making this rise, so that the planets align before their eyes, well, that would be impressive.”
Cassie snorted. “A total waste of your telekinetic abilities.”
Brenda frowned. “Well then, you suggest something.”
“How about your drum set? You said your mother hates it. You could send it flying to the dumpster.”
“Very funny.” But, Cassie had a point. Her mother wouldn’t mind if she broke Rule #61 with the drum set.
“Just pick something, Brenda. Seeing anything rise by itself will be impressive.”
“Okay. I’ll go with the drums.” Brenda stared at the drums. Rise … Rise … Rise … R—
“Nothing’s happening.”
“Shhhhh.”
“Okay, okay.”
Brenda fixated on the snare drum. She squinted and held her breath. Rise … Rise … R—
Cassie giggled. “You look like you’re constipated.”
Brenda turned to glare at her friend.
“Sorry.”
Brenda turned back to the drums. Maybe the cymbal would be a better focal point.
“Tabitha on Bewitched used to twitch her nose.”
“I am not going to twitch my nose!”
“Okay.”
Brenda stared at the cymbals. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the nerves that Cassie had disturbed. She had to focus … focus … Okay. She felt calm and focused. Now … Rise …
“Um. Excuse me.”
Brenda closed her eyes and took big gulps of air. “What?”
“I was thinking … maybe the mobile would be better, after all. It’s lighter.”
Anger billowed in her stomach. “I want to move something that my parents will know I moved. So I am going to move the stupid drums! Now, be quiet!”
Cassie was silent.
Brenda glared at the drums. RISE! … RISE! … RISE! …RI—
The crash of glass breaking reached her ears seconds before she heard her mother’s shriek. “Oh my God! My Lalique crystal!”
“Oh no …” Brenda whispered.
“Do you want me to go downstairs and tell Mary you ‘moved’ her crystal?”
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Find out more about Rachelle Chase’s romantic comedies and erotic romance at http://rachellechase.com. Her latest release, Out of Control, is a novella in the fabulously-covered  Red Sage Secrets 13, and her first two single titles will be released by Kensington Aphrodisia in 2007.
ATTENTION: Before reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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My parents gaped as the fifty-dollar bill floated through the air and drifted over to settle on my open palm.
“Wanna explain that?” I asked.
I’d known it would happen. It had been happening for the last two days. I looked at something, decided I wanted it, and the next thing I knew it was headed in my direction. Without much control of it on my part. When it happened with the lipstick I had dropped behind my vanity and couldn’t reach, it was pretty cool. And I tried it about a dozen times just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.
When it happened with the answers to the pop history quiz Ms. Jones had on her desk, right in the middle of class? So. Not. Cool. The only way I managed to stop it was to fake a fainting spell–which resulted in a trip to the nurse’s office, giving me an extra day to study for the quiz anyway, so it wasn’t a total loss.
Except that this couldn’t go on. At least not without me knowing what the hell “this” was and how I could use it to my advantage.
So, I decided to ask my dad for money, knowing that with this
newly-discovered talent of mine, I’d have no problem getting something more from his wallet than the piddly little twenty he’d try to give me.
“Um, I have no idea,” Mom said slowly, struggling to maintain her game face. “Frank?”
Dad shook his head. “No clue.”
“Oh, come on! Seriously!” I waved the fifty in the air. “Enough with the secrets already. I know you know something.”
If they truthfully thought I couldn’t put two and two together and figure out that they knew all about this little secret “power” of mine, they didn’t know me very well.
Their tightly-clamped lips made it clear that all the pleading in the world wasn’t going to result in the information I wanted. Blackmail was necessary.
“Fine,” I said, folding the bill in fourths and tucking it into my bra. Whirling, I made my way toward the back door. “I’m going to the mall with Meg. And, if that Coach purse I’ve been wanting just happens to float into my possession–”
“Okay!”
When I turned back and saw my dad’s look, I realized smugly that this was going to be better than I thought.
Maybe now I’d make sense of my earliest memory, sitting on my father’s lap as a toddler, inconsolable about something. Dad stressing out that he couldn’t comfort me. Suddenly my mother came flying into the room like Super Mom, tackling the beer my dad had floating toward him in midair, before crashing into the coffee table.
From the guilty look on Dad’s face–and the glare on Mom’s –I had a feeling my little “gift” came from the paternal side of the family.
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To find out more about Shannon McKelden’s chick lit or young adult fiction, check out http://www.shannonmckelden.com or http://shannonmckelden.blogspot.com/ and watch for VENUS ENVY, coming Feb 2007, from Tor .
ATTENTION: Before Reading, get information about the Great Blog Voice Experiment here.
The topic: “A young woman confronts her parents after discovering she has inherited telekinetic powers.”
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It had to have been all the alcohol.
Lots of alcohol. Eight glasses of Pinot Grigio, followed by shots of Jagermeister to be exact. But you only turned thirty once.
Still…all that alcohol had made some weird things happen last night.
Callie Masterson handed over a dollar to the Mass Turnpike toll booth worker and hit the gas as she continued on her way to her parents’ house out in Newton. Her head prickled with traces of a post-party hangover, but at least she’d been smart enough to pop a few Tylenol before passing out on her bed and wishing like hell that she’d feel better in the morning.
And strangely, she did.
Wishing. Hmmm…her birthday wishes seemed to be coming true. At least one from last night that had her so rattled this morning.
Zipping out onto the Pike, she weaved in and out of traffic with the greatest of ease headed west out of Boston. She usually hated the drive out to Newton, but somehow, the cars were literally getting out of her way. Doing exactly what she was wishing…that they’d move.
Just like last night with David McIntyre.
The other brokers from the sales desk at Westerfield Financial Services took Callie, one of the top, most professional sales people, out to celebrate her thirtieth birthday. They started at Whiskey’s on Boylston, went to the Globe further down the street and then ended up at the Foggy Goggle. Foggy was the appropriate word because by then, Callie was way gone on all the free wine, happy, singing, hugging her friends and finally relaxing on a soft couch taking everything in. The group had ended up in the lower bar, doing shots and dancing.
That was when it happened. She didn’t remember some things about the evening, but David McIntyre, tall, gorgeous, shaggy brown hair and dreamy hazel eyes, was something she’d never forget. The fellow broker was already an unrequited crush of hers, but when she watched him moving to the music looking soooooooo damn good, she thought one thing:
I wish he’d rip off his shirt and give me a birthday lap dance.
And next thing Callie knew, he did.
David McIntyre, Mr. Conservative Power Broker with the supply of Brooks Brother’s suits, grabbed at the front of his blue oxford shirt, tugged off his classically striped tie and proceeded to straddle his mile-long legs around Callie while gyrating to the music. His broad chest was covered with a thick, brown mass of hair that she wanted to run her fingers through. She may have. All she knew was David McIntyre, the most beautiful man in the office, was giving her an ultimate birthday present. All because I wished for it.
She shook her thoughts and took the Newton exit, weaving effortlessly through the residential streets to her parents’ house. She parked, got out and padded to the back door, using her key to let herself in.
“Anyone home?” she called out.
“In here, dear!” her mother answered. “Oh, let me see you…”
“Mom, it’s no big deal,” Callie said, laughing as her mother approached with wide arms.
Nancy Masterson gathered Callie to her and squeezed tightly. “My baby is all grown up now.”
Callie felt smothered, breathing in deep. “Mom, stop.”
And she did.
Wow, that’s never worked before.
“Sit, sit, dear…I’ll get you some coffee and we’ll talk.” Her mother turned her back and went to the cupboard.
Feeling experimental and a little wigged out at how the world seemed to be obeying her all of a sudden, Callie focused hard on the kitchen chair, directing it to slide back away from the table. In a quick motion, the chair shook and then catapulted a foot from its resting place.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.
“Callie Elizabeth Masterson!” Nancy said, like she always did whenever Callie did or said something she shouldn’t.
But Callie wasn’t listening. She was shaking. Hard. What just happened? She’d wanted the chair to move and it did. She’s wanted the cars on the Pike to get out of her way and they did. She’d wanted David McIntyre to rip off his shirt and lap dance her…and he did.
Nancy stepped to her. “Sweetie, you’re trembling. What’s the matter?”
How did she explain this when she didn’t understand it herself?
“I…I…it’s just…things are…weird…I’m seeing things…”
Her mother was attentive. “Like what?”
Callie swallowed hard. She loved her mother, trusted her implicitly. “Things are…moving when I want them to.” She stopped and shook her head. “Maybe I have a hangover, after all.”
Her mother covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, sweetie. It’s happened.”
Furrowing her brow, Callie asked, “What’s happened?”
“The Gift. It’s happened.”
“Mom, what gift? A birthday gift?” Callie was confused.
Nancy pulled over a chair and set her down, taking the one next to her. “Callie, I thought it wouldn’t happen to you, but it has. And if I’d thought of it more, it would make sense because it happens when you turn thirty.”
Callie shook her head as she continued to tremble. “What happens?”
“The Gift,” Nancy explained. “It usually skips a generation in our family, but it seems you’ve gotten it too. I have it and my sister has it and our grandmother had it. Mother never had it, but she knew about it. I’m so glad you’re here so we can talk and I can help you harness The Gift as it’s a very special thing. Oh, I’m so excited for you!”
“Mom! You’re talking Farsi to me. What gift? Please tell me.”
“You’ve finally inherited my telekinetic powers.”
Callie’s mouth fell open. “You’re completely messing with me! What telekinetic powers?”
Nancy continued to smile. “Everyone has the potential to be telekinetic, but the women in our family seem to pass it down as an inheritance. Telekinesis is created by higher levels of consciousness and gives you the energy to move or bed objects by using your thoughts in your subconscious mind. And yours have kicked in on your thirtieth birthday, just like the rest of us, Callie! Isn’t it wonderful?”
Callie leaned back in the chair and tried to steady her breathing. If what her mother was saying was true, then her life had completely changed. Everything would be different from here on out.
And, she owed David McIntyre an enormous apology…and one hell of a tip.
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For more information about Marley Gibson, visit http://marleygibson.com, and check out the hilarious and infamous Boston-based blog of her character, Vanessa Virtue! Her four book sorority series with Puffin will be a Spring 2008 release.
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