Zapped Read Free Page B

three of them worked it out so they had a handfasting marriage on the summer solstice.
    For legal purposes Mom Gwen and Dad married so we kids would have coverage, as she was pregnant with Josh by then. Mom Tate gave up her crummy job behind a counter and took over childcare during the day, the others covering at nights so she can paint. They never celebrate that courthouse wedding for only two, which they call the ‘signing.’ Their anniversary is the summer solstice.
    â€œMom,” I said that evening. “I have a question.”
    They were both there, Mom Tate cooking dinner and Mom Gwen sorting the mail, but somehow they always know who we mean. Or else they both answer. “Yes?”
    â€œSo there’s this assignment. A kind of what if scenario. Like, what if people turned out to have powers?”
    â€œPowers?”
    â€œLike…” My voice slid around my zap. “Like the X-Men, or Harry Potter.”
    â€œNobody has any kind of powers. There are a lot of frauds out there, and seriously disturbed people.”
    â€œBut if they did. What would happen to them?” And when Mom Gwen looked at me as if I’d painted my face green and began hooting like an owl, I said quickly, “For this what-if essay.”
    â€œIt sounds to me like they want you to write science fiction,” she said disapprovingly.
    â€œOr fantasy,” Mom Tate put in over her shoulder. “Hey, you could write your own manga. Use your drawing skills!”
    â€œUm, this is about learning about alternative viewpoints and cultures,” I lied frantically. “So let’s say someone discovered that magical powers really exist.”
    â€œOh! Well. First bona fides would have to be established. Tests, blind studies, and of course it would depend on what these powers were. If they could harm anyone. The government would probably demand oversight, at the very least, especially if you’re talking about Fairy Godmother powers, instead of someone who can, I don’t know, say ‘Alakazam’ and blow bubbles from their belly button.”
    â€œThe politicians would want a piece of them, of course,” Mom Tate put in, as she stirred something delicious-smelling in a pot on the stove. “ Think of the growth industry in magic!”
    They took off with that idea, straying into politics like adults love to do. As soon as I heard “Yeah, but the Republicans…” and “But the Democrats…” I tuned out.
    I’d heard what I needed to: tests, blind studies, governmental oversight.
    I didn’t dare tell anyone. I was on my own with this.
    The next day at school, I got to math as early as I could. All night I’d tossed and turned, imagining what Mercy would say, what I would say. What would happen.
    Though we both took Japanese, I was a year ahead, having been able to take it in middle school in Hawai’i. So we only had math class together.
    I got a real jolt when I walked in and there was Kyle in the back row, his chair tipping back dangerously. Everybody talked around him, like there was a force field circling his chair, except for two buddies sitting on either side of him. I slunk to my seat and sat down, not daring to look back.
    When Mercy finally appeared, she barely looked at me. Just sat down, opened her books like usual, and bent over her work.
    The teacher came in and pointed at the first row, the seat directly in front of her desk. Kyle sauntered up, his pants sagging so low they were nearly around his knees, and slammed his books down on the desk, the noise like a rifle shot.
    The teacher said, “Do you really want a trip to the vice principal’s office? Because we can get that over with right now. Everyone else is here to learn.”
    â€œI’m sitting, I’m sitting,” Kyle said, and dropped into the chair, his long legs reaching out into the aisle between the seats. He hunched over, the way his gaze shifted around