“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, taking a step toward her.
“No, don’t—”
She puts her hands up in warning, the mini bottles clattering to the floor. Light reflects off the rings on her fingers and the hair rises on the back of my neck.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warns.
“Neon, calm down,” I say soothingly, trying to push my ability out as far as it will go.
“Indah, come here a sec,” Neon calls. I look behind me to see Indah’s eyes darting between us, torn between someone she trusts urging her over and the tentative hold I still have on her emotions. I don’t want her to move—I want her to stay behind me, on my side—but reaching out to Neon has meant loosening my grip on Indah, and I don’t know which is stronger: the trust or the power.
“Babe, come on,” Neon pleads, and the endearment snaps the connection between us. Indah rushes to Neon’s side, putting them both in the kitchenette and me still standing in front of the open door. There’s one exit and they have to pass me to get there. There’s still time for me to fix this.
“What did you mean, ‘one of us’?” I repeat, slowly stepping backward to shut the door.
“Don’t you dare close that door,” Neon hisses, but I click it shut softly.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “You really think I could hurt you? Look at me.” I wave my hands over my body—soft and weak compared to her wiry strength—and give her my best innocent look.
“I don’t know what you can do, Robert,” Neon says. “And that means I can’t trust you, no matter how unthreatening you look.”
“How didn’t I know?” Indah murmurs. “Nee, he’s different. I couldn’t sense anything from him. Not until tonight. That’s why I—that’s why I started asking questions.”
“What are you—‘couldn’t sense anything’?” I echo. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Who are you—” Indah shoots back, her voice sharp in a way I’ve never heard.
“Okay, okay,” Neon shouts over us, “we clearly have some things we need to talk about. Why don’t we all just calm down and start explaining.”
“You first,” I snap, crossing my arms.
“Nuh-uh, kid.” Neon shakes her head. “You’re the new guy in town, you explain first.”
“Don’t call me ‘kid,’” I mutter, annoyed that I have to say it out loud.
“That’s what you are though,” she continues. “You’re eighteen, you somehow got Indah to serve you the moment you met her, you’re staying here without paying a dime, and—and weren’t you running from something in Vegas? There’s a lot you haven’t told us and you better start.”
“Why should I? I barely know you two, why would I tell you anything?”
“Because in the past month, it’s become pretty clear that you’re a curious kid and I have a feeling you’ll do what you need to to find out what I meant by ‘one of us.’”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I concede, clenching my jaw. “But, as you’ve guessed by now, I’m not in the habit of playing by other people’s rules.” I start to stalk slowly toward them. These two are clearly no strangers to conflict, but even if they wanted to fight their way out of this, by the time they try, they’ll be in range for me to do my thing. “So if you’ll just do me the very kind favor of telling me exactly—”
I take another step and Neon’s hands go up again. There’s a flash of blue light, searing pain, and then darkness.
* * *
She was sixteen when it first happened. It started small. A static shock on her fingertips. A current up and down her spine when she held her tongue. The smell of lightning in the air that comes before a storm, except there never was a storm. The storm was her all along.
It didn’t stay small. The more upset she got, the more she held in her feelings—tried to fit in, tried to appease her parents, her friends, her school—the higher the static would rise. She didn’t know it needed a release. If she had, she would have found an outlet, somewhere safe to discharge all the electricity, before it was too late. Instead, it burst out of her like a supernova. She never let it build up again. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk being found out, hurting someone, burning another building down. She couldn’t risk any of it.
The moment she could, she left her small Arizona town and moved west. To somewhere she wouldn’t be looked upon as strange. Her town had always seen her that way and they didn’t even know about the electricity. She stuck out like a sore, sparking thumb. At least in Los Angeles, her run-of-the-mill weirdness—her love of punk, her hair, her sharp wit and steel spine—would be just that. Run-of-the-mill. Los Angeles could accept her. Los Angeles was a place for lost people to find themselves.
She found herself, all right. She found Neon.
* * *
“… he’ll be fine, Indah. Don’t treat me like an amateur.”
“He’s been out for five whole minutes. You know that’s not good.”
“He spooked me, okay? I didn’t mean to discharge that much.”
“Is he—”
“Oh shit—”
“Robert? Robert, are you okay?”
“What the fuck happened?” I groan as I blink open my eyes. I’m lying on what I assume is the floor, Indah and Neon bent down on either side of me. Indah’s eyes move around my body, while Neon squints at me with a guilty grimace.
“Sorry, kid,” she says, and I cringe internally. I wish she’d stop calling me that. And it’s a little weird that she is when she’s right next to me. My ability should be taking care of that, even if I am still half-conscious.
“Here, let me help you up,” she continues, and Indah nods in agreement as they both grab on to my arms. Something is off. There’s a low hum in my ears and my skin feels overly sensitive, like it’s been sunburned. I shake my head back and forth, like that will clear it, as they lead me to the couch.
“Okay, really, what the hell just happened?” I croak, settling back into the couch.
“I shocked you,” Neon says, sitting down on the coffee table across from me. Indah settles on the arm of the couch, crossing her arms and looking down at us like a disapproving schoolmarm.
“What do you mean, you shocked me?” I ask.
“Like I said: you’re one of us. And people like us … well. We can do a lot of different things.” She gives me a small, soft smile, like we’re in on a secret. “I still haven’t figured out exactly what it is you can do, though.”
“I can make people do what I want.”
I don’t know what compels me to tell her. Maybe it’s feeling like I’ve been microwaved and then struck by lightning; maybe it’s that, for once, I feel completely powerless, and even worried and shaken, Neon radiates that commanding confidence that I want to bend to. Maybe it’s just because I think it’s the only way she’s ever going to give me more than vague statements.