The Candidates Read Free Page B

direction. “What are you thinking? You don’t want to go to Delcroix? Do you have any idea how important that school is? What an honor it is to be chosen to attend? What possible reason could you have for not wanting to go? The money won’t be a problem because they’re going to pay for everything. And don’t give me that story about missing your friends and looking forward to high school. Last week you were telling me that you wished summer would go on forever. And what’s this nonsense about soccer? You said you’d never make the varsity team at Danville High.”
    Nice move, Dancia. Tell Grandma everything, why don’t you.
    Problem was, Grandma was one hundred percent right. I loved soccer but didn’t have the skills to make the varsity team. And I didn’t have friends, or classes, or anything to look forward to. It’s a sign of just how depressed I was about the whole thing that I had confided all this to Grandma.
    But while Danville High sounded depressing, Delcroix sounded terrifying. How could I blend in there? Being invisible and staying unattached were the only ways I knew to avoid triggering my power. The more emotionally attached I got to someone, the more likely I was to use my power to protect them. I had stopped making friends in the sixth grade after my best friend, Aileen, got teased by a bully and I dropped a tree branch on his head.
    He went to the hospital. Twenty stitches and a concussion.
    While staying unattached kept me from acting on behalf of someone else, being invisible kept me from using my power to defend myself. I made sure I didn’t fit into any of the school cliques so I wouldn’t develop enemies. I wasn’t too smart, too pretty, too nerdy, or too preppy. I was just Dancia Lewis, the girl who everyone recognized but no one knew.
    The trick to this was the Dancia two-step, which I’d developed over the years and found to work in most social situations. Step one, act bored and impatient, like you’re waiting for someone. This tends to keep people from approaching, but also makes you look reasonably cool. Step two, if they do approach, ask them questions about themselves. People love to answer questions like that. You can find an excuse to slip away later, and they’ll have a pleasant memory of talking to you, but no idea who you are. Step two was dangerous because sometimes I would forget I wasn’t supposed to be making friends, and end up in a real conversation. But I’d remember later, and the next time I saw the person, I’d start again with step one.
    What if the two-step didn’t work at Delcroix? What if I couldn’t blend in there? Would I start dropping tree branches on everyone? How many people could I send to the hospital before someone started to wonder?
    “You heard them talking about that pledge,” I said, trying to sound pitiful. At this point, sympathy was my only hope. “It’s weird, right? I mean, how could you pledge never to do anything that wasn’t good, or wasn’t going to advance humanity, or whatever he said?” As I spoke, actual tears began welling up in my eyes, which was embarrassing because I never liked crying in front of Grandma.
    Her face softened. “My dear girl,” she said, coming over to give me a hug, “what’s this really about, anyway?”
    Hugging Grandma is sort of like hugging a kid, because she’s so much shorter than I am. Sometimes I wish she were a few feet taller so I could feel like she was taking care of me, instead of the other way around. But still, it was nice, and I started to cry even harder. She held me for a minute and then pulled me over to the couch. She grabbed some Kleenex from the coffee table—we’ve always got Kleenex around because of Grandma’s eyes—and handed them to me. I blew my nose and started to feel a little more in control.
    “You’re a good girl, Dancia. You could make that pledge, even though I agree, it does seem a little silly. After all, if you were going to do something bad, you