Glitch

and
    slid his hands down my back.
    I frowned. “Maybe.”
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    Heather Anastasiu
    I focused on the pressure of his hands. They moved far-
    ther down. It felt kind of nice. But it also felt weird. Then
    he squeezed and I jerked away quickly, scooting out of the
    chair and over to the wall.
    “What’s wrong?”
    I crossed my arms over my chest. “This is all new to
    me, and too fast. I don’t want to do any more of that right
    now.”
    “Oh.” He seemed surprised. He sat back.
    I was starting to get irritated. “You just told me that you
    glitch, too, and that you have all these powers. I want to
    talk about that. ”
    “But don’t you want to know about the plea sure?”
    “Maybe later,” I said uncertainly.
    He nodded. “Later, then. I guess it can all be kind of con-
    fusing at fi rst.”
    I nodded and let out a small laugh. It sounded strange in
    the tiny room and I put a hand to my mouth in fearful refl ex.
    Max was grinning at me, though. He understood. I could
    laugh in front of him. I could fi nally share all the things I’d
    been feeling. I grinned back, feeling warm inside.
    “So, show me what you can do,” he said.
    I blinked a few times and frowned. “It always just kind of
    happens,” I said after a moment. “I don’t know if I can make
    it happen.”
    He shrugged. “That’s odd. I’m able to control mine.”
    I frowned deeper. It was always something I’d been so
    afraid of happening. It was too dangerous, too conspicuous.
    I’d never thought about trying to do it on purpose.
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    G L I TC H
    “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll try.”
    I looked at the pillow placed neatly at the top of his bunk.
    It was small and light. It should be easy. I stared at it, willing
    it to move.
    Nothing. Not even a twitch. I reached my arms out, try-
    ing to focus my thoughts and energy through the extension
    of my fi ngers. Max shifted awkwardly in his seat while I
    concentrated, gritting my teeth and staring at the pillow for
    another fi ve minutes. I fi nally gave up, a sheen of sweat glis-
    tening on my brow.
    “I’ve been glitching longer than you,” Max said. “I’m
    sure it will get easier the longer you try.”
    “Maybe,” I said, still frowning at the pillow. I felt frus-
    trated that it hadn’t worked. Max had seemed excited about
    his power, and I was disappointed I couldn’t show him mine.
    “So what about when you disappeared? What happened?
    Where’d you go?” He leaned back on the desk so his back
    was against the wall.
    I told him everything I remembered, and it was a relief to
    tell the story to someone other than the Chancellor.
    “Nothing feels diff erent, but I know something must have
    happened to me, to my body. And why didn’t the diagnostics
    pick up anything anomalous when I returned?”
    I snuck a peek at some of your rec ords after you returned
    and everything tested normal. I’ve seen other things though.
    They can do what ever they want and then lie about it.”
    “How do you know that?”
    He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “When you look like
    the Chancellor or other instructors you’d be surprised at the
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    Heather Anastasiu
    things you can see and overhear. At what people will tell
    you straight to your face.”
    “Max!” I said. “That’s so dangerous! What if they caught
    you?”
    He laughed. “I’m careful. I don’t really go walking around
    as the Chancellor. I usually try to be someone inconspicu-
    ous. Someone no one notices or bothers to be careful around.
    Besides, no one knows what I can do. They don’t even sus-
    pect. No one knows but you.”
    The thought made me feel warm and cold at the same
    time. He trusted me with his secret. But at the same time,
    it was another burden to carry and keep safe. Then again,
    maybe everyone other than the Link drones had secrets.
    “So what have you found out?” I asked. “If they’re lying
    to us, what are they trying to hide?”
    “I don’t know all of it yet. But it’s a lot, Zoe.”
    Prickles ran up and down my arms. And it wasn’t just fear
    now, there was something else bubbling to a boil inside
    me— anger. I was so happy to have someone like me to talk
    to, but what about everybody else? What about all the people
    who would never get to experience these beautiful senses
    and emotions? Was the life the Uppers forced us to live as
    unthinking, unfeeling drones, really all that diff erent a fate
    from being deactivated altogether?
    What if— An idea sparked inside me like