repetition of car alarms.
Hector looked behind him, and both Jaide and Jack followed his glance. Smoke was beginning to curl and twine out of the shattered walls and rooftop, and little flames were jumping in the shadows.
‘They have to go,’ said Hector. ‘The twins . . . we might not be so lucky next time. I need you to take them to Mother before their Gifts fully awaken.’
‘What gifts?’ Jaide finally found the strength to speak up. ‘What’s happening?’
Hector looked at both of the twins. ‘I can’t tell you now. But you’ll find out soon. All you need to know is that it’s very important that you go with your mother. Now.’
‘You’re not giving us any choice?’ Jack asked.
‘There is no choice.’
Jaide still didn’t understand. ‘What about you? Aren’t you going to come with us?’
‘Yes, Hector,’ Susan said. ‘Aren’t you going to come with us?’
A flicker of intense pain passed across Hector’s features. ‘You know I can’t go with you, Susan. Me being there would . . . interfere . . . as I interfered today.’
Susan looked away, back toward the burning house.
‘You might as well go now, then,’ she said.
Hector nodded sadly. He bent down and kissed both the twins on their foreheads, picked up the iron rod, and stood, his glasses askew and misted over.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘One day, troubletwisters, I hope you’ll understand.’
Hector turned to Susan, but she would not look at him, not even as his footsteps slowly receded down the lane. Jack couldn’t watch him, either – he felt like something inalterable was happening, and their family was never going to be the same again. Only Jaide managed a small wave as their father left. She had no idea whether or not he saw it.
A minute later, a clap of thunder echoed across the ordinary suburb and a single black cloud slunk off toward the horizon, marking the end of the ordinary life of Jaide and Jack Shield.
EVERYONE KEPT TELLING JACK, JAIDE and Susan how lucky they’d been to survive the explosion that destroyed their home.
‘I’d buy a lottery ticket, if I were you,’ the insurance assessor had said. The fire department investigator had agreed, adding, ‘A gas main normally goes up all at once, not in stages. You’re the luckiest family alive.’
But the twins didn’t feel lucky. As far as they were concerned, they just got unluckier and unluckier. First their home was blown up, and then they were told they had to move to their unknown grandmother’s house, miles and miles and miles away. And yet, every time someone heard their story – like that morning in the latest and hopefully last slimy motel off the freeway – out came that annoying sentence: ‘You were lucky!’
‘Everyone keeps saying we were so lucky,’ said Jaide as they got back into the car. ‘So how come we’ve had to drive for three whole days to some hick town we’ve never heard of, to see a woman you clearly don’t like? Dad is who-knows-where —’
‘That’s enough,’ snapped Susan. ‘It’s been a long drive, and I need you both to be cooperative. We’re almost there. Don’t ruin it now.’
They drove in silence for a while, Susan fuming to herself and the twins in no better mood. Then Susan quietly added, ‘Your father will come when he can. He has urgent business. And we are very lucky that we’re alive and that your grandmother is so keen to have us come to live with her.’
Grandma X lived by the sea in a town called Portland – but not one of the Portlands that anyone had heard of. In fact, as Jaide quickly learned on the internet, this Portland didn’t even make the top ten of cities or towns with the name. It was small and old and sounded generally unexciting. There was only one small school, two parks, one part-time cinema (without a 3-D screen), and a main street with a half-dozen shops. The nearest shopping centre was a minimum of forty minutes’ drive away. To the twins, it might as well have been