to be exercised so I was riding her up Oak Grove Road so that we could gallop through that big empty field. So in the middle of the field these stupid wild turkeys flew up and scared the crap outta Dove and me. She jumped forward and her hoof must have hit something because she tripped and I FELL RIGHT OFF OF HER. Can you believe it? I never fall off. Anyways, it didn’t hurt much and even if it had I was too worried about Dove’s leg to worry about me. She was kinda limping around and I thought she’d broken it. So I made her hold still and felt down her leg. I was scared and shaking and crying and all of a sudden I realized MY HANDS WERE GLOWING! Okay. Really. It was like I made a light come out of them, like a little candle or something. I cannot wait till G-ma and G-pa get home so I can tell them!
Oh, P.S., Dove’s leg is just fine.
Morrigan smiled at her thirteen-year-old self, remembering fondly her childhood with the sweet gray mare who was now retired to Grandpa’s greenest meadow to spend Morrigan’s college years lazing in clover, round and happy. Laughing softly, Morrigan lifted her hand. Holding it palm up she stared at it, concentrating hard. After what seemed like forever, a tiny flicker of light danced around her palm, but it was gone almost before she could be sure she saw it there. Morrigan sighed and rubbed her hands together—her right palm still felt warm and tingly. But nothing else. She could do it again, but only just a little. Her grandparents had no explanation for her weird ability. Like her, they were clueless about where it came from or what it meant.
The wind wasn’t clueless, though. Over the years it had whispered affinity for flame and you can bring light and other equally cryptic things to her. Morrigan didn’t understand what the voices were trying to tell her, and she was afraid to ask them to help her understand. What if that meant she was asking evil to help her? It was way too confusing.
“Morgie, hon, it’s getting late.”
Morrigan jumped away from her grandma’s soft touch like her hand was a live wire. “Oh, crap, Grandma! Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me so bad you almost made me pee my pants!”
“Watch your language, hon,” G-ma said sternly, but she smiled to soften her reprimand. “And I didn’t sneak up on you. I called you three times. Looks like you were busy woolgathering.”
Morrigan felt silly sitting there in the middle of her journals. She shouldn’t be dredging up the past and messing with a weird ability she’d need to keep hidden when she was at OSU. What she should be doing was focusing on the future. “Sorry, G-ma,” she said quickly, shoving the last of the journals into the storage box. “Guess I was daydreaming.”
“Well, come on out. Your breakfast is getting cold, and those kids will be here before you know it. The Alabaster Caverns are three hours away. You need a good meal before you go.” She called the last over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen.
Morrigan hurried to do as her grandma had asked, enticed by the smells of bacon and coffee and blueberry muffins wafting down the hall to her room. G-ma had probably packed her—and her friends—a great lunch, too. Shaking off the weird feeling calling the flame to her hands always gave her, Morrigan grabbed her shoes and a sweatshirt and headed into the familiar warmth of the kitchen.
She ignored the echo of laughter that seemed to float on the air around her.
2
“Mama Parker kicks ass in the kitchen,” Gena said around a big mouthful of steak hoagie.
“Yeah, but if she heard you say ass she’d tell you to watch your language, hon.” Morrigan did a more than passable imitation of Mama Parker that made the girls laugh.
“No way would I say ass around your grandma. I don’t want to piss her off. She might stop cooking for us,” Gena said.
“No shit,” Jaime agreed.
“Mama Parker is too sweet to piss off. Plus, that wouldn’t be smart,” Lori said. “We might have to start eating my mom’s cooking. Then we’d be saying goodbye to yummy homemade hoagies and chocolate-chip cookies and hello to mac and cheese.”
“My mom’s idea of cooking is to call for pizza delivery. If she’s feeling extra-fancy she’ll order cheese sticks and ranch dressing, too,” Gena said.
“Ditto for my mom,” Jaime said.
“You know, y’all could actually try learning to cook for yourselves. I mean, you’re eighteen and leaving for college in a few days. What are you going to eat?” Morrigan said.
“Dorm food, of course,” Jaime said.
“I’ll eat anything someone else cooks. Like Mrs. Taco Bell. I love her cooking,” Lori said.
“Eat?” Gena tapped her chin with one perfectly manicured French-tipped nail and looked purposefully perplexed. “For the next four years I plan on eating beer and football players.”
The three of them convulsed into giggles. Morrigan gave her friends a collective eye roll. Yes, she liked them. They’d been friends since middle school, but even when they were just kids she’d always thought of herself as older and more mature. That she felt (and acted) older used to seem kinda cute to her, and they definitely needed someone to look after them. More and more it just irritated her. Would they never grow up?
“Okay, whatever. I still say I’m glad I don’t have to depend on Mrs. Taco Bell or Mrs. Pizza Hut to eat when I’m away from home.”
Proving Morrigan’s point about immaturity, Gena stuck out her tongue at her. “Hey, someone remind me why we’re here instead of browsing through the end-of-season sale at Gap?” Gena said.
“We’re here because Morgie likes to do weird stuff, and this is the last time we’re going to be together doing weird stuff with her probably till Christmas break,” Lori said.
“I don’t think the stuff I like to do is weird.”
“Exhibit A—you thought it would be fun to hike the six-mile forest trail by Keystone Dam.” Lori held up one finger like a baseball umpire. “If I recall correctly, which I’m sure I do, it was not fun. It was hot and sweaty and I found a tick crawling up my thigh trying to find its way to my vagina.”
“Ticks do not go looking for your vagina,” Morrigan said, trying hard not to laugh.
“No, don’t even try to change my mind about that. I saw the House episode. The tick was hiding in the girl’s vagina.” Lori shivered convulsively. “It was majorly disgusting.”
“That really is gross,” Gena said.
“And complete fiction.” Morrigan tried, unsuccessfully, to add some common sense to the conversation.
“Exhibit B.” Up went Lori’s second finger. “Camping.”
“Oh, come on! That was way back in ninth grade.”
“Time has made it no less horrifying,” Lori said primly.
“And it wasn’t that bad. I remember having a good time.”
“Yeah, that’s because you like playing Boy Scout, and the great outdoors, and…and…you like nature.” Lori
