Chapter II

  The day David discovered he was Gifted was… strange.

  It happened about a week after the incident at the playground—the day I stopped Perce and his friends from going after him.

  I must have told Mom about the vines growing wild around me. I didn’t realize how serious it was at the time, but apparently that was when my Plant powers first fully appeared.

  David’s powers started differently.

  At first, it was just little static shocks.

  I remember the first time it happened. We were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework when he reached over to grab a pencil from me. The moment his hand touched mine—

  Zap.

  He yanked his hand back.

  “Ow!”

  I stared at him.

  “Did you just shock me?”

  “I didn’t mean to!” he said quickly.

  We both laughed it off.

  But then it kept happening.

  Every day.

  At first it was only once or twice. Then it became more frequent. Soon David couldn’t touch anything metal without sparks snapping between his fingers and the surface.

  Eventually he told Mom and Dad.

  That’s when everything changed.

  Now David and I were standing together in our parents’ secret underground base.

  The glowing screens hummed softly along the walls. Strange machines blinked with quiet lights, and the smooth metal floor reflected the bright panels above us.

  Mom and Dad stood across the room.

  “You’ll begin training today,” Dad announced.

  David raised an eyebrow.

  “Training for what exactly?”

  Mom smiled slightly.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “You’ll see.”

  It turned out to be combat training.

  Which was not what I expected.

  Our parents brought us into a large practice room filled with equipment racks. Weapons of all kinds were mounted along the walls.

  “Each of you may choose two weapons,” Dad said.

  David walked straight toward the heavier weapons without hesitation.

  I, on the other hand, took my time.

  Eventually I chose a longbow and a set of darts.

  Not surprising.

  I’d always wanted to try archery, and I already loved throwing darts. Dad used to set up targets for me in the backyard. I’d spend hours trying to hit the center.

  David chose a sword and a battleaxe.

  The sword made sense—we used to run around the yard fighting imaginary battles with sticks. But the battleaxe surprised me.

  “You sure about that?” I asked.

  David grinned.

  “I read about it in a book once. It looked cool.”

  Fair enough.

  From that day on, we trained every weekday after school.

  School ended at 2:30, and by the time we got home and changed, we started training almost immediately. Each session lasted about two and a half hours.

  By the end of the first week, my arms felt like jelly.

  Still, it was kind of amazing.

  That’s why we didn’t join any after-school clubs. Between school and training, we barely had time for anything else.

  During one break, David plopped down beside me on a bench and wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “How’s your training going?” he asked.

  “Pretty good,” I said. “I’m focusing on the longbow.”

  “You’re already unbeatable with darts,” he said.

  I smiled.

  “True.”

  The coolest part of my training room was the control panel on the wall.

  With the flip of a switch, I could change the entire environment.

  One switch created powerful wind gusts that pushed my arrows off course. Another made the targets slide back and forth across the room. There was even a setting that switched the archery targets into smaller dart boards.

  It made practice a lot harder.

  And a lot more fun.

  Sometimes I wondered what other technology our parents were hiding down here.

  After our weapon training ended, we moved on to power training.

  The room was divided by a thick glass wall.

  David stood on one side with Dad, while I stood on the other with Mom.

  We could still hear each other through the speakers in the walls.

  “Why the glass wall?” I asked, tapping it lightly.

  “So we can both observe you,” Mom explained. “I’ll train you. Dad will train David.”

  David looked at the glass skeptically.

  “Won’t it break if we mess up?”

  Dad shook his head.

  “It’s specially designed to withstand your abilities.”

  That was reassuring.

  Mostly.

  We began practicing.

  My training focused on growing plants more deliberately. At first I could only grow small, common plants—grass, vines, and simple leaves.

  Still, it was incredible watching them push through the soil at my command.

  Across the glass wall, David experimented with his powers.

  Tiny sparks flickered around his hands like miniature lightning bolts.

  Sometimes they snapped loudly in the air.

  Our parents said that was because we were born from two Gifted bloodlines.

  Apparently that made our powers appear earlier—and stronger—than usual.

  By the time training finally ended, we were both exhausted.

  Mom and Dad walked toward us as we leaned against the wall, catching our breath.

  “So,” Mom asked, smiling, “how was it?”

  David and I looked at each other.

  “Great!” we said at the same time.

  Dad laughed.

  “You’re lucky,” he said. “Because we’re doing this every weekday.”

  David groaned dramatically.

  Mom folded her arms.

  “Tomorrow is physical training,” she said. “Strength, agility, endurance.”

  Then her expression grew more serious.

  “We’ll keep training like this until the next Gifted Gathering.”

  David frowned.

  “When’s that?”

  “Six months from now,” Dad said.

  The room suddenly felt quieter.

  “And then,” Mom added, “we’ll see if you’re ready.”