Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [78]
“I thought it was a fluke. I hoped it was. I . . . I don’t know,” I admitted slowly. “I did try and be careful around water though.”
Brent chuckled. “Yes, that seemed to work well for you. Let’s pay attention to this one, then.”
“You’re going to give me to your brother and let the mist have me?” I asked, shaking his arm off of me.
“That’s not going to happen. Haven’t I already proved I wouldn’t do that?” He rolled his eyes at my stare. “The situation might be the same, but the difference will be in the details.”
A lawnmower rumbled to life and the grounds employee began guiding it across the grass. We climbed onto the ledges of the gazebo as stray pieces of grass floated through the air.
“We fight, we lose?”
“What happened to your undying optimism?” Brent asked, raising one eyebrow.
“I traded it for your sense of reality.” I traced around the black scar on my shoulder with my fingertips. “How’s your ankle feeling?”
“Changing the subject? Sure, I’ll stop talking about the important topic if you feel uncomfortable.” Brent stretched his legs out in front of him. “I’m much better. I dreamed too.”
“What did you dream?” With amusement I noticed he blushed and protected his thoughts. “Aren’t you going to tell me?” He shook his head as he stood up and rolled his shoulders.
“But you made me discuss mine in detail.”
“I’ll tell you what, if I have a dream that might be that important, I promise to tell you all about it.” He flexed his muscles in several body builder poses. “My strength is back. Let’s start training again.” I groaned as he yanked me to me feet.
****
Later that night we walked toward the center of the school, wandering around while waiting to reenact my death. The moon shone brightly on the campus and even without my heightened senses I would have easily been able to see by its beams. It was chilly, cold enough that if I were still alive, my breath would have hung around my face in the air.
“It’s a beautiful winter evening. All that’s missing is snow. I’m never going to see snow again.” I frowned at this realization.
Brent smiled at me mischievously and lifted his hands above his head, mouthing words I couldn’t hear and my mind didn’t understand. The temperature plummeted, and clouds formed, covering the bright moon. Within moments, tiny fluffs of white flitted to the ground around us.
I laughed in amazement, tilting my head back. I stretched out my arms and twirled in the falling snow. The small flakes gradually gave way to larger ones as the pace of them picked up, coming down in a flurry, until several inches of billowy white blanketed the ground.
“How did you do that?” I asked, sticking my tongue out to catch the snowy flakes. They didn’t stop, but fell through me unimpeded.
“It wasn’t hard. It’s the same basic technique I use to control the wind. It just took more time, energy, and concentration. I didn’t do it everywhere, just around the school.”
“How are the weathermen going to explain that?”
Brent chuckled, reaching out his hand and letting a few flecks of snow fall through him. I took a deep breath and inhaled the chilly air. I was surprised to find I felt different. Something in me had changed. After a minute I realized, for the first time since I died, I felt content. Yes, there were things I longed to change, and people I wished to hold, but I could feel myself slowly moving past my life. It’s not that I was losing the memory of my loved ones, but I was coming to accept things as they were. There was a word to describe how I felt. Happy.
Brent turned to me in shock. “You’re happy.”
I stopped walking and bit my lip, turning to face him with a surprised grin. “I am. Or at least I really think I can be.” At that moment I noticed that the room that had once been mine was still dark, but only a little sadness squeezed my heart.
“You can’t already be losing your happiness,” Brent said as he formed a perfectly round snowball. He took aim at me. “This is a happiness-rejuvenating snow ball,” he explained in a very serious tone. He threw it at me, but with a wave of my hand, I forced it to