They’re both looking at me with open and interested expressions—Neon twisted in her seat to face me, Indah glancing through the rearview mirror every few seconds. I haven’t been thinking about next steps. I’ve been driving from place to place for so long, looking for a place to settle but finding that so impossible that I stopped trying to settle a while ago. But I’ve also never met people like these two before.
“I’ve never seen the ocean,” I say, reluctant to reveal anything more than that, reluctant to even think about anything more than that that I might want. “I hear surfing is big out here,” I add.
“Ugh,” Neon groans. “Don’t tell me you’re staying in Venice.”
“Uh, no,” I say, confused. “What’s wrong with Venice?”
“Anything west of the 405 is another planet,” Neon explains.
“Wait,” Indah interjects, “where are you staying?”
* * *
“You’re staying here?”
“Not too shabby, huh?” I smile, walking farther into the villa, leaving Indah boggling in the doorway.
“What were you saying about not wanting the life of the rich and famous…?” Neon asks, looking around in awe.
Pleasure rushes through me at their faces—they’re impressed. And I don’t think they’re even impressed because I want them to be. They’re impressed because this is impressive. I’m impressive.
Suddenly I want desperately to tell them both what I can do. Show them just how powerful and impressive I can be. But, if past experience is anything to go by, people’s knowing about me doesn’t make them more inclined to like me. In fact, it sometimes makes using my ability on them that much harder.
Still, the tall, pale man continues to loom large in my head. Joking about him in the car was one thing, but now that I’m back in my own space, which is in a hotel with dozens of other people and big glass doors that lead to the courtyard, I remember the powerlessness I felt in his shadow. It makes me want to prove what I can do. I flex my hand as I flop down on the couch, the phantom sensation of Neon’s grip and the feel of her shoulder beneath my palm both still lingering on my skin. I’m not broken, not too buzzed to have my ability work—that much was proven by Indah and Neon’s complimenting my looks in the car—so why did that man linger when I wanted him so badly to leave?
“Yo, catch me up here,” Neon says, stepping toward the baby grand in the corner. “Are you secretly loaded? Are you actually some trust fund kid on their gap year or something?”
“Ha, definitely not,” I scoff.
“Then…” Neon sweeps her arms outward, gesturing to the grandiose surroundings.
“I have my ways.” I shrug, mock humble.
“You know, you say that a lot for someone who doesn’t even have a wallet,” Indah murmurs, still standing in the doorway. There’s that crinkle between her eyebrows, like she’s looking at an optical illusion, trying to find the cracks in the image. I guess that isn’t far off—me, a dumpy eighteen-year-old kid in beat-up Converse sneakers and a too-big hoodie, staying in a lavish rock star hotel, is its own kind of optical illusion.
“Do you guys want anything to drink?” I say, deflecting. “The fridge is pretty well stocked.”
“Ha, I can imagine.” Neon snorts. “And probably insanely overpriced. Sure you can afford it?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” I grin and Neon grins back. She takes another look around the room, whistling low, before moving to the fridge, only to whistle again when she sees the contents.
Meanwhile, Indah is still standing in the open doorway, narrowing her eyes at both me and Neon. I suddenly realize how far the couch I’m on is from the door—Indah might be out of range. There’s plenty I still don’t understand about what I can do, but proximity seems to be a factor. Without the magnetic pull of my ability enticing her into the room, she has space to think about all the pieces of this that don’t make sense—space to make out the shape of the duck when I want her to see the rabbit.
“Do you want anything, Indah?” I say smoothly, rising from the couch and moving slowly toward her as if she’s a spooked animal. “There’s soda and stuff too.”
“Yeah, real fancy shit!” Neon yells, her head still in the refrigerator.
“Robert, what’s going on here?” Indah asks.
Crap, she’s taken a minuscule step back, putting her weight on her heels like she’s ready to spin on them and run at any moment.
“What do you mean?” I put my hands in my pockets, show her I’m not a threat. But I keep moving toward her, slow step by slow step, hardly picking up my feet. Neon seems plenty occupied with the drinks, and hopefully my desire for her to have a good time will keep her there. But even as I inch closer, I can’t feel Indah, can’t tell how much closer I’ll need to get to her to convince her that there’s no reason to ask more questions.
“There’s something…” Her brow crinkles more and her gaze becomes unfocused, giving me the chance to slightly speed up my steps. “There’s something strange about you, Robert,” she finishes, and I fake a chuckle.
“Yeah, that’s been said before.”
“No, I mean, there’s something…” She trails off again and I feel a click inside my body, like I’m finally picking up the tune of a song playing far away.
“Something…?” I prompt, knowing I’m out of danger for now.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I can’t—I don’t remember what I was going to say now.” She smiles at that, like she’s laughing at herself, and her whole body relaxes as she steps into the room.
“Holy shit.”
I turn around to see Neon staring at us from the kitchenette. She’s got tiny bottles of liquor in both of her hands, but based on her ashen face and wide eyes, I don’t think that’s what she’s swearing about.
“What?” I ask, heart beating fast. Crossing the room to work my magic on Indah might have put Neon out of range, but there’s no way. There’s no way she could suspect something about me, other than the general suspicion that I’m some sort of criminal. Which I could hardly criticize her for—the evidence is fairly damning, even if it isn’t strictly true.
“You’re one of us,” she breathes.
One of us.
Chills run down my arms.
“One of who?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice steady.
“You can do something, can’t you?” she continues. “I don’t know what it is, but Indah—I know what Indah looks like when she senses—and you just—you just made her totally calm without saying anything. Indah, babe, are you okay?”
Indah’s eyes widen in confusion as she looks between Neon and me.
“I’m—” she starts, before shaking her head and starting again. “Nee, he’s—”
“I’m nothing,” I interrupt, starting to panic.
“No, you’re something,” Neon continues. “This place … everything you have, everything you’re able to get … you do something, don’t you?”