Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (127 page)

“Well what?” I said. We were sitting on her floor in the space between her bed and dresser. Her back was to me and I was brushing her long hair.

“
You know, Mom. Don’t play cloy.”

“
Coy,” I said.

She sighed. “Whatever, Mom. Cloy, coy. Either way, out with it.”

“Since when did you get so demanding?”

“
Since I realized that my mother has been lying to me my whole life.”

“
Not your whole life,” I said, doing some quick math. She would have been about three when I was attacked. Anthony had been one. I had been a relatively new mom with one really freaky secret.

“
So you’ve been lying for part of my life?”

“
And since when did you get so smart?” I asked. She was skewering my words like an attorney. Like father, like daughter. That is, if you could call an ambulance chaser an attorney.

She waited, and not patiently. Down the hall, I heard Anthony groan and slap the floor, which sent minor shockwaves throughout the whole house.

He’s getting stronger,
I thought.

“
I will tell you...more about me,” I said. “But first, I want you to tell me why you think I have such a big...secret.”

She held up her forefinger. “First, I don’t think you have a secret. I know you have a secret.” She raised another finger. “Two, you’ve always been weird.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“
I mean, a person who can’t go outside in the sunlight? A rare skin disease? I mean, c’mon!” She raised a third finger, and a fourth and fifth as she ticked off more points. “Three, you’re always cold. Four, we have like
no
mirrors in the house. Five, you never eat.” She lowered her hand and spun to face me. “Oh, you
pretend
to eat, but lately I’ve been secretly watching you sneak your food onto Anthony’s plate. He’s so dumb. He never notices it and just eats it. Such a doofus.”

“
Don’t call your brother names.”

“
Sorry.”

“
Apology accepted,” I said. “So tell me when you started having, you know, visions. When did they start?”

“
Last month.”

“
When your period started,” I said, nodding.

“
Mom!”

Tammy hated talking about it, true. She thought it was gross, try as I might to convince her that it was the most natural thing in the world. Still, at ten, she was young to have started her period. She was young, but it was not unheard of. I had been ten, too, when mine started. Like mother, like daughter.

“Anyway,” she said, rolling her eyes, “when
that
started, I also started seeing things.”

“
Seeing what?”

“
I started seeing thoughts, I guess.”

“
Your own thoughts?”

“
No, Mom,” she said, nearly rolling her eyes full circle. “
Other
people’s thoughts. I can already see my own thoughts. Duh.”

“
Be nice.”

“
Sorry.”

“
So, what did other people’s thoughts look like, honey?” I asked.

She looked away, bit her lip. The aura around her was a light blue. Peaceful blue. There were flashes of greens and yellows, but she often had flashes of greens and yellows. Some colors were simply a part of someone. These were her colors. And, as always, I had no access to her thoughts. Other people’s, sometimes. My own children, no.

Finally, she said, “They sort of appear as pictures. Fast pictures. They come and go quickly.”

“
How do you know they are not your own thoughts, honey?”

“
Because they are things that I have never seen before. Things I had never
thought
about. Things I wouldn’t...” She struggled for the right words.

“
Things you wouldn’t know,” I offered.

“
Yes, Mommy.”

“
So what did you think when you saw these strange images?”

She shrugged and reached down and cracked one of her excessively long toes. I cringed. I hated the sound, and asked her to stop. She rolled her eyes.

“Well, I was confused. But then I saw that the images seemed to come from people around me. I would see, for instance, Anthony’s teacher in class, but from Anthony’s eyes.”

“
So you concluded you were seeing his memories.”

“
Yes, Mommy.”

“
And the images only came to you when other people were nearby?”

“
Yes!” she said excitedly. I think she figured I wouldn’t believe her. Or that she was doing something wrong, somehow.

“
So you weren’t hearing their thoughts,” I said. “But rather
seeing
their memories?”

She nodded and reached down for her toes, but then thought better of it. “I think so, yeah. Take Ricky Carpettle—he’s the kid who always has boogers stuck to his forehead, ‘cause, you know, he wipes his nose
up
instead of down. Anyway, I kept seeing him playing video games in his Batman underwear.”

Despite myself, I laughed. I said, “How often do you see these images?”

“As often as I want.”

“
How do you stop them?” I asked.

She thought about that. “Well, I just sort of say ‘Stop!’ in my head real loud, and the images, you know, go away. At least, for a little while.”

We were both silent. My daughter was a friggin’ mind reader. How this came to be, I didn’t know. Did her abilities have anything to do with me being a vampire? If so, how? My attack seven years ago should have no bearing on who or what she would become later in life.

My head hurt...briefly. I never had headaches for long. Still, I rubbed my temples, thinking hard. When I was done rubbing, I saw that Tammy was watching me closely. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what she was going to say next.

“And when I’m around you, Mommy, I see things, too.”

“
Oh, God.”

“
You can fly, Mommy.”

“
Oh, God,” I said again.

“
It’s you. I know it. But it’s not you. You are something else, something huge. With wings, and you fly high above.”

And now I really did have a headache, one that lasted a few seconds longer than normal. I buried my face in my hands and rubbed my head and wondered why the Universe was determined to utterly ruin my life and those of my kids.

“It’s true, isn’t it, Mommy? You can fly.”

And the words I spoke next to my daughter should have sent me straight into an institution. Straight into a straitjacket. To be locked up forever. Words no sane person should ever, ever have to say. Especially not a mother to her daughter. And yet I heard them come from my mouth. I heard them from a distance. I heard the insanity of it all.

“Yes,” I said, my face still buried in my hands. “I can fly.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

“
What are you guys talking about in here?” asked Anthony, sticking his head in the doorway. I’d heard him coming and kept my face buried in my hands.

“
About adult things, butthead,” said Tammy angrily. “Now go away.”

“
You’re the butthead. You go away.”

“
He can stay,” I said. “And you both just lost TV and video games for the night.”

“
Can I still play computer games?” asked Anthony.

“
Aren’t those the same as video games?”

“
No, Mom. Duh.”

“
Then those, too,” I said. “And no one goes on the internet, either. Oh, and both of you hand over your phones.”

They did so grudgingly. We had a fairly wide-ranging Netflix account. Apparently, anything with a screen these days could access the TV. I thought of anything else I might have missed, going down my mental checklist: TV, Xbox, phones, computers, laptops. I snapped my fingers.

“Leave your iPads in my office, too.”

“
But Mom!” they both said in unison.

“
That’s what happens when you call each other names. We’re a family. We don’t call each other names.”

“
Since when?” asked Tammy.

“
Since forever. And especially now. If you want to question me further, young lady, you can see what life is like without a DVR player.”

“
Sheesh. Sorry.”

“
That’s better. iPads. Office.
Now
.”

They stormed off. Tammy grabbed her iPad from her desk. I heard Anthony rummaging around his room for his own. I silently longed for the days when no TV had been enough. I also silently longed for the days when I could eat heaps of guacamole and chips. They returned a few moments later, both looking glum.

“Anthony, come in and shut the door. I’m going to talk to both of you.”

Anthony’s eyes widened a little. After all, he had done a darn good job of concealing our secret from his sister, although I suspected, with her newfound gifts, his secret wouldn’t be concealed for long.

Too many secrets, for too long.

I patted the carpet in front of me and told them to sit. They sat. It was time for the truth, and so, I reached out and took their hands and told them everything. From my attack seven years ago, to my ability to fly, to their father’s revulsion for me, to Kingsley Fulcrum being just as much a weirdo as me.

I told them everything.

Everything.

Chapter Thirty-eight

We were at Cold Stone Creamery.

“
Isn’t it nice to know that you don’t have to keep faking it all the time, Mom,” said Tammy as we all sat in a booth in the far corner.

Although the weather was warming, the creamery was empty. I wasn’t complaining. My kids couldn’t keep their voices down even if I paid them to. Especially not now. Not with this much excitement in the air. After our talk a few hours ago, it had been Anthony who suggested we all go get ice cream. No surprise there. The kid was literally eating me out of house and home.

Interestingly, just in the past two hours, the kids were getting along better. And not just getting along but being—and get this—
friendly
toward each other. At one point, Anthony suggested to Tammy that she try the Snickers on her ice cream, and she actually did. She didn’t tell him to mind his own business. She didn’t ignore him. She didn’t tell him he was stupid and looked funny. She said, “Sure.”

I stood there in amazement, watching the scene play out. Tammy then nudged Anthony and pointed to a big stain on the worker’s apron and they both giggled.

Together.

Granted, they were laughing at someone else, but at least they were getting along.

Baby steps.

I considered Tammy’s question as I sat with the two of them. I was drinking from a water bottle and chewing gum. The gum was nice. It only gave me the smallest of stomach cramps—no doubt from the trace ingredients in the flavor—but it was nice to chew and drink and look like a real mom. I said to Tammy, “Yes. It is a relief, actually.”

“You don’t have to keep pretending to eat or to have stomach aches,” said Anthony.

“
At least, not around you two,” I said.

“
Or Daddy,” said Anthony.

“
I don’t eat with Daddy anymore.”

“
Oh, right.”

Tammy was eating her ice cream thoughtfully. “But when we are around other people...”

“Yes, I will still have to pretend to eat, or pretend that I’m full, or pretend that I have a tummy ache.”

She nodded thoughtfully. Somewhere through all of this, my daughter had seriously grown up. Having access to others’ minds might have something to do with that. Or maybe it was realizing that her mother was the mother of all freaks, too.

“Remember, what I am,” I said to them again, “is a secret.”

“
We knoooooow,” said Anthony, laying his head on the table. “You told us like a Brazilian times.”

“
Bazillion,” Tammy corrected. “Brazil is a state.”

“
Country,” I said.

“
Whatever,” she said. “The point is, we all have secrets now. We should make a pact.”

“
What’s a pact?” asked Anthony.