School of Secrets (The Perkins School for Self Improvement #1)

Chapter 18

Both Creighton and my sister turn to look at me.

"Tim?" Tara wonders, eyes wide. She looks ready to cry, like she's just stepped into a world she knows nothing about.

"Tara," I stammer, trying to put on a reassuring smile, "Tara, you'll be fine."

She shakes her head, gaze alternating between me and Creighton.

"Teleportation?" Tara finally asks, "But that's not, like, a real thing. It's something you're supposed to read about in books, not something you see in everyday life."

I take a deep breath, remembering how Amber had explained the whole situation to me.

"You know all those superpowers in the movies?" I begin, watching my sister carefully, "Well, they exist in real life too. People here, at the Perkins School ... a lot of them are like me, ordinary. Some of them have abilities, though. I know several people like that. Creighton here has visions, and I know another girl ... a chick who controls minds."

"No-no way!" Tara gapes, looking overwhelmed, "No! No, this can't happen to me. I don't want this to happen to me. I was just sitting in my room, thinking about you. Mom and Dad won't let me call or text you, and I've been so upset. I just started wondering if you were happy, wondering about what you were doing. I was thinking that I wanted nothing more than to see you, and then I ended up here. This can't happen to me! Tim, what if this happens in class? What if someone sees me? What if Mom or Dad see me do it? I-I have t-to ... to do something!"

Despite the manifestation of Tara's powers and the fact that this could be disastrous for her, I'm suddenly furious that my parents haven't let her contact me. Though I knew that it was too much of a coincidence that she was busy every time I talked to my parents, I never expected them to go to such extremes to keep the two of us from speaking.

"Sis," I manage, running a hand through my hair, "it's all right."

I'm trying to make myself believe that. I keep seeing Creighton and her parents, the way Mr. and Mrs. Hastings looked at their daughter.

What if Mom and Dad treat Tara like that? What if they hate her for something she can't control.

"Why did this happen to me?" Tara whimpers, her lower lip trembling.

Creighton steps toward her, looking a lot calmer than I feel.

"You're Tim's sister?" she asks Tara. Tara's head moves shakily up and down.

"I-I'm Tara. Tara Renner?"

"How old are you?" Creighton continues, looking down at my terror-stricken sibling. There's about a four inch difference, though right now Tara looks much smaller than her mere five-foot-two-inch height.

"I-I'm thirteen. I'll be fourteen in November." Tara replies, biting her lip.

Creighton nods, her expression unreadable.

"Children with abilities usually don't know they have them until a certain age," Creighton informs my sister, "based on what I've learned, people usually discover their powers between the ages of seven and fourteen. I've heard of it happening earlier, but never at a later age."

"What am I supposed to do?" Tara squeaks, her head moving back and forth, "I'm just an eighth-grader. I was normal until a few minutes ago, and now I-I'm ... I don't know what I am."

My brotherly instincts take over as I consider my horrified sister. If there's one thing I've always hated, it's seeing Tara upset, and right now I'd do anything to make sure she knows she's not on her own.

"You're still an eighth-grader," I assert, finally finding my words, "you're a teenager, and you're my dorky little sister. I-I'm sure you can figure this out. You're smart, Tara. All you need is practice. You'll learn how to control what you can do, but you have to be careful."

Tara glances up at me, still looking nervous and small.

"If-if I figure this out, maybe it'll give me a way to sneak off to see you. If I can't call or text you, maybe I can teleport to Maine. I could meet you here or ... or somewhere else close to here."

I stare at her, deciding that if she's careful that might work.

She frowns,the concern evident in her expression.

"It's almost five o'clock by now in Missouri. Dad will be getting home soon, and he'll probably want to talk to me." She shifts from one foot to the other, biting her lip again, "What if I can't get back? What if I can't figure out how to come back here once I do get back to Missouri?"

"Tara," I sound more certain than I feel, "if you're confident enough that you can do it, then I'm sure you'll be able to. Look at you, you managed this without trying. Imagine what you could do if you were really focused on it."

She stares at me, wide-eyed.

"You really believe that?"

"I do." I tell her, finally managing a confident smile.

"I should probably try to ..." she trails off, one hand cutting weakly through the air as she struggles to find the least foreign-sounding word for the action, "Can I come back here this weekend? Maybe at night, when Mom and Dad would assume I don't want to be bothered?"

"Curfew's at ten here, which would be nine o'clock in the time zone back home," I tell her, "no one really bothers too much with it, but I'm not sure it's safe for you to show up here after that. You could come about thirty minutes before curfew. That would give us a little time, plus it's around the point when Mom and Dad will be working together in their office. They still spend time in there after dinner, don't they?"

Tara nods.

"Saturday, maybe?" she wonders, "I'm setting Sunday night aside to do all the homework I'll procrastinate on, but I'm not doing anything important on Saturday."

I nod.

"That's fine," I tell her, "but be careful. The fewer people who know, the better."

She nods, then glances at Creighton, who's silently watching the two of us.

"You won't tell anyone I was here?" Tara demands, looking a bit more like herself.

Creighton shakes her head.

"You swear?" Tara presses, frowning.

"Yep," Creighton tells her, looking mildly amused, "I swear."

Tara looks back at me, and I shoot her a reassuring glance.

"You can trust her."

Hearing it from me seems to convince her of the fact,and my sister finally lets herself smile. She steps forward, trapping me in one of her inescapable hugs before stepping away again.

"I'll see you this weekend," she tells me, "I'll make sure of it."

"I'll see you." I agree.

Tara nods, taking up a position directly in front of the gate. She closes her eyes, frowning in concentration as she considers what she's about to do.

After what feels like ages, my sister makes her move. She turns on one heel, disappearing a few seconds later.

It's like she was never there.

I'm left staring at the spot of grass where Tara had been standing, trying to process what just happened and what it means for the two of us. I hope more than anything that I'm not making a mistake by letting her visit here, and I'm trying to convince myself that she'll be able to handle this.

Still, my sis is only thirteen, and it doesn't seem fair that kids her age have to face something so life changing while keeping it all a secret from the majority of the people they know.

Concerns about Tara taking up a majority of my focus, I follow Creighton through the school's gate and try to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.