Glitch

you just practiced here at home
    where no one can see you, you could get to be in control of
    your powers. I could help you.”
    “It only happens when I’m not thinking about it,” I said.
    “Like a refl ex. And even then, it doesn’t always react the
    way I intend. Like on the train.” I swallowed hard. The pain
    of that night rose up and almost choked me. “People died that
    day because of my powers.”
    “No, Zoe, you’ve got it all wrong,” his voice was low, but
    insistent. “People survived that day because of your powers.
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    All the people on the train lived because you were able to
    set the train back on the cracking tracks. I survived that day,
    and it wasn’t even the fi rst time you’ve saved my life!”
    I couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It was so frustrat-
    ing not understanding emotion. His features changed before
    I could even try to fi gure it out.
    “Do you mind just giving it a try?” he asked. “We’ll start
    small, like with that pillow.”
    I nodded reluctantly, and he settled in next to me, both of
    us facing the pillow at the top of my bed.
    “Now, it sounds like for some reason your power works
    best when you’re in an emergency. It could be fear, or adren-
    aline, or some other reaction that allows you to access that
    power. Maybe with the right trigger, we can channel that so
    you’ll be able to call on it whenever you want.”
    I nodded, my eyes never straying from the pillow. I stared
    at it intently, memorizing its shape and willing it to lift off
    the bed. I squinted my eyes shut, teeth clenched in concen-
    tration. I waited for the high- pitched buzzing that usually
    seemed to accompany my power.
    Nothing. I kept pressing, my eyes boring holes in the pil-
    low as I summoned memories of fear and dread and chan-
    neled it through my eyes toward the pillow.
    Suddenly, Adrien picked up the pillow and tossed it in my
    direction. I gasped in surprise, then felt the soft thud of the
    pillow hitting my face.
    “Why did you do that?” I asked.
    “I thought maybe some element of surprise would help
    you.”
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    Heather Anastasiu
    We stared at each other. Adrien looked at me, taking in
    my tousled hair and confused face, and his face slowly spread
    to a wide- eyed grin. His shoulders started to shake with si-
    lent laughter. Soon I joined him, my laughter muffl
    ed into
    the pillow he had thrown at me.
    Adrien wiped at his eyes. “Okay, so that strategy clearly
    doesn’t work. Maybe we have to try something more danger-
    ous next time.”
    “If you wanted to scare me, a pillow is probably not the
    best choice.”
    “Okay, we’ll try something else next time,” Adrien said,
    still laughing. “It was a good fi rst practice, though. Just re-
    member, Zoe. Keep trying. Find out what ever it is that gives
    you that power, and hold on to it.”
    “But when I use my power, I can never direct it the
    way I want to.” I felt frustrated all over again. “It’s unsafe.
    There’s no way I can control it and keep it from hurting
    anyone.”
    “That might be a risk you’ll just have to take. It’s the only
    way you can get better at it. See if you can access that power
    fi rst, and then we’ll worry about controlling it.”
    The smile slipped from his face and he became serious
    once again. “There’s something else I need to tell you, too.
    About when you were away. I didn’t want to talk about it in
    front of Max the other night.”
    “What?” I immediately frowned. “Is it something bad?”
    His brows furrowed. “Sanjan— our crank who specializes
    in this kind of stuff — he said it shoulda been impossible for
    you to have an allergic reaction like you did without being
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    exposed to it before. Maybe someone from the outside had
    some mold gnange on their clothes and you came into con-
    tact with them. Though secondhand exposure isn’t usually
    enough to do it.” He shrugged.
    “Molds.” I sat back, frowning in thought.
    He nodded slowly. “Yeah, the attacks would get worse ev-
    ery time you’re exposed. But!” He brightened, reaching back
    into the ceiling to pull down an aluminum case. “There’s
    some medicine we can try. It’s called immunotherapy. I
    brought it with me when I came back. It’s gonna mean regu-
    lar injections, though.”
    “For how long?”
    “It could take months. And it’s not a permanent solution.
    If you stop the injections, the allergy can come back.”
    I let go of the curl