Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [64]
“Oh, I thought I lost it. Not that it matters; I wasn’t going to use it.” Brent gave me a level stare. “Okay, I considered it the first time I projected accidentally.” A group of students picked up the volleyball Brent had dropped and started a game. “If he did that, controlled the lightning, he’s pretty powerful, huh?”
A patch of cloud covered the sun, making the day seem colder as Brent nodded.
“Alright— then I need to practice.”
I stood the way Brent had shown me, my legs spread shoulder-width, pushing into my feet to keep me solidly on the ground. “Hmm . . . they took my ball.”
“See if you can take it back,” Brent said, a dare in his voice.
“Oh, I can do it.” I pointed at the ball and concentrated.
While it did sail off course a few times during their game, it wouldn’t obey me. From the corner of my eye, I watched Brent’s shoulders slump in disappointment.
“It’s okay,” he said, giving up on me and rubbing his chin. “It can take a while to master. I’ve been pushing you too hard.”
“I can do it,” I yelled, my eyes focusing on the ball. All the pent up emotions unfurled from me and attacked it, for a brief, triumphant moment it glided toward us. I motioned for it to come closer, but felt myself losing hold of it. In annoyance I sent everything I had into the command, knowing I had done it, confident in my success until it exploded, leather and other odd pieces of material littering the sky before snowing down around us. The students watching shrieked; a few backed away, while the brave ones crept toward the ball.
Brent’s face went pale and he licked his lips. “Glad we started with the ball.”
“Told you I could do it,” I said, stumbling to my butt as my strength deserted me. I expected to see Brent impressed or at least pleased, but his chestnut brown eyes darkened.
“You call that ‘doing it’?”
My head dropped and I bit down on my quivering bottom lip.
“If we had been practicing together, you could have obliterated me.”
“No. I wouldn’t have hurt you.” I panted for breath that I tried to remind myself I didn’t need.
“You don’t know that. You have no control.” He cut me off as I opened my mouth to argue. “You let that childish temper of yours rule you. You wasted all your strength on that stupid explosion leaving you too weak to do anything else. If we were fighting, I would now be trying to defend not only me but you as well. Not to mention I’d probably be trying to correct whatever damage you created. You’d be nothing more than a distraction.”
Like a human teapot, my blood boiled, my cheeks burned, and I could almost feel the pressure escaping like steam from my ears. “You said I was gifted and powerful.”
“A battle is more than a flash of power, Yara. It’s strategy and control,” Brent said, trying and failing to keep his voice calm.
“I can learn to control my temper,” I said, rising to my knees, each of my words clipped.
“I’m really starting to doubt that.” His eyes were cold. “I’m starting to think your temper may be your defining characteristic.”
His eyebrows lifted questioningly as my mouth opened to defend myself. My tongue rose to the roof of my mouth, becoming a dam to stop the rush of angry words that certainly weren’t going to help me prove my point. I inhaled deeply, holding the air until it collected all the cutting words I longed to speak and then exhaled, letting them float away unspoken.
Brent applauded, nudging me with his shoulder, “I thought I had you there.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I grumbled honestly, though part of me found his clapping condescending, treating me like a child who had learned the alphabet.
“Proud as a papa,” he chided.
I gave him an evil eye before covering my face with my hands— I had forgotten he knew what I was thinking. “I can do it. It’s just harder with you than with anyone else.”
Brent’s lips twisted up. “I wonder why that is?”
“Because you’re so annoying?” I offered, watching the students abandon the court.
“I’m far too charming to be annoying.” He tapped his index