CHAPTER THIRTY

I can’t help but notice how convenient my situation is – the moment I lose one mother, I gain another. But of course, it’s not that simple.

Caden knocks on the door and I stand just behind him and Sarah, squeezing my wrist so hard that I can imagine my hand must be turning blue. For some reason, I can’t keep still, and I find myself bending and stretching my knees over and over again, as well as flinging looks over my shoulder at the stationary car.

Almost everything in me is screaming at me to leave, to get away before the door opens and it’s too late to back out. But a part of my mind understands the importance of meeting my real mother, and it’s that single part that keeps my body in place and my mouth shut.

No time like the present, I remind myself. But it doesn’t help.

Suddenly, I hear a noise coming from the other side of the door and my movements dissolve away, leaving me tense and waiting. The sound of a lock being undone floats over to me, taunting me as the seconds seem to expand and grow, slowing everything down until I swear I’ve been standing in wait for a lifetime.

And then the door swings inwards and I see her.

The first thing I notice is her light brown hair that reaches to her shoulders. Then my eyes make out her tan skin, brown eyes and the dozen or so wrinkles of her forehead, and around her mouth and eyes. She looks to be around fifty, but the resemblance between her and Sarah is still striking. I can see Sarah in the shape of my mother’s nose, the intelligent spark in her eyes, the slight point of the chin.

I don’t know if seeing how familiar she looks makes me feel better or worse.

“Sarah,” my mother says, looking surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Then she seems to notice Caden and I and she frowns.

Sarah quickly picks up on her mother’s state of confusion. Sending her a meaningful look, she says, “Remember I told you last night that we might have visitors today?”

A few seconds pass in which my mother doesn’t seem to understand the look Sarah’s giving her, but it quickly passes and I catch the moment my mother remembers whatever it was that transpired. The shock on her face is unmistakable as she turns her head, eyes latching onto mine for the first time. But when she opens her mouth to say something, the words that come out aren’t what I expected. “Why don’t you guys come in? You must be freezing.”

Caden looks back at me, his eyes seeming to say, Here we go, before stepping into the house. I go to follow him and Sarah, but my feet get stuck at the threshold, my body unwilling to cross over into a place should be familiar but isn’t – a place that I should be living in with my real mum, going through every day as a normal girl who attends school and does homework and has friends and boyfriends and arguments with her parents. A girl whose biggest worries are her upcoming exams or whether or not she should wear a dress or a skirt to her friend’s party.

My real mum stands by the door, waiting for me to come in even after everyone else has ventured into another part of the house. I look up from my feet and meet her eyes.

She smiles, and in it I can see all her emotions – sadness, fear, relief, nervousness, happiness – and I realise that they’re much like my own. “Come in, Melissa. It’s okay.”

And I do, feeling strangely comforted by her smile and her words. I never would’ve thought that someone could say so much with so little, and this initial encounter has fuelled me with reassurance – reassurance that everything will be okay and that I’ll get through this, that we all will.

She closes the door behind me and I follow her into the dining room where Sarah and Caden have taken a seat at a wooden rectangular table that sits next to a large window with a view of the street.

“Would you guys like something to eat or drink?” she asks us.

“No thanks,” Caden says.

“A glass of water would be nice,” I say, ignoring my stomachs protests. I’m afraid that if I eat anything it’ll come rushing back up.

“I’ll go get it now,” she says and leaves the room. I take a seat to Caden’s left with my back to the window, all too conscious of my friends’ gazes that seem to be glued to my face.

“How are you doing?” Caden asks quietly.

“Fine,” I say, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

But we all know I’m not. Inside, I’m harbouring a storm of thoughts and emotions, some so great that I’m continuously pushing them down again and again and again. Others are too painful to even acknowledge, and I deny their existence with every smile, every shrug, and every second that passes in which I’m not drowning in tears and grief, curled up on the floor.

It hasn’t even been a minute when Sarah’s – my – mother returns with a glass of water, sliding it over to me. She sits down next to Sarah and opposite me, looking slightly uncomfortable, but for the most part, as if she’s preparing herself for what will happen next.

But the next seems to be taking a while, and we sit in an awkward sort of silence, in which my mother seems intent on making eye contact with me and I’m set on looking at everything except her. All the while, my mind runs over that mess of confusion that is my situation. She’s not Sarah’s mother, but she is. Sarah’s her daughter, but she isn’t. She’s my mother, but she’s not. I’m not her daughter, but I am.

My head starts to pound.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” Sarah says suddenly from beside her mother. She stands up and looks Caden in the eye, sending him a message I can’t quite discern.

“Um, yeah, me too,” he says, standing. And then I realise what they’re doing.

I watch them leave the room, knowing for certain that they aren’t going outside into the snow for some ‘fresh air’. The bastards.

All too soon, it’s just my mother and I, and the silence until she speaks is short. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” I say, for what else can I say? I can’t very well tell her that I just lost my mother and that I’m consumed by so many emotions that sometimes I find it hard to continue breathing – not when I’ve only just met her. I have to tell her what she wants to hear – everything else can come later.

“How are your…parents?”

“They’re fine. I haven’t told them yet, so they should be okay.” Lies, lies, lies.

She nods. “You doing okay in school?”

“Yep.”

“When did you find out about all this?”

“Last week.” Was it really just last week? It feels like a lifetime ago.

“How did you take it?”

“Well.” It’s not like I fainted or anything.

She sighs. “You can be honest with me, you know.”

“Honest? You want me to be honest?”

She nods.

“Well, then I’m drowning in grief and pain, my mother just died this morning, my dad has retreated within himself, everyone at school hates me, I’m being watched and followed by a bunch of people who want to kill me – my uncle included – oh, and did I mention that I’m dying?”

My mother’s face goes white as a sheet as she stares at me in shock. “Oh, Melissa… I’m so sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s fine – I’m fine. I’m still breathing. I still have full use of all my limbs. I’m not starving to death or living on the street. I’m okay.”

She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it. Stop saying that, okay? I don’t want to hear it. I’m doing fine. I’m coping. That’s all.”

She looks down. A minute later, she asks, “Are you learning how to use your powers?”

I nod, then shake my head. “Sort of. I’m just kind of practising them every now and then, but I’m not very good. The only time I can really do anything is when I’m filled with adrenaline.”

“But the fact that you can use them at all is incredible. It’s hard enough using them when you’re in your own body; to use them while trapped in someone else’s body where the potential is blocked is practically unheard-of.”

I shrug.

“Let me teach you,” she says.

“What?”

“Let me teach you how to use them – how to make them stronger. If you want to swap back, you’ll need your powers to help you.”

“I – I don’t know. If I have to, I can get Rand to help me. He’s good with this kinda stuff.”

“But I’m better,” she says, smiling. “And you’ve inherited fifty per cent of your powers from me. Who else is better qualified to teach you how to use them then your own mother?”

Your own mother.

I look down at my hands where they rest on the table. Can I do this? Every second I’m around her, I feel the urge to run away and never leave her side all at the same time. But I can’t do either, and that information makes the atmosphere in the room uncomfortable and painful. How could I possibly be around her long enough for her to teach me how to use my powers? And how would Sarah feel about this – her only mother spending time with someone else instead of her?

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to God that my decision doesn’t drive a rift through our relationship. Because learning how to use my powers could mean the difference between life and death – it could save the lives of everyone I care about.

And for that reason, when I look up, I say, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

She smiles. “Stay back after the council meeting tomorrow. We can talk some more and I’ll start teaching you a few tricks.”

“You’re going to that?”

“I figure I may as well re-join seeing as Sarah’s already made the decision to come out of hiding. I haven’t seen my brother in years.”

“Your brother? As in Patrick?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Have you met him?”

“Sarah hasn’t told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“Patricks trying to get me killed. He’s working with these people – the ones that swapped me in the first place.”

She looks shocked. “What? Are you sure?”

“Certain – I saw it in a vision. Obviously a lot has changed in the ten or so years since you last saw him.”

She closes her eyes for second, then reopens them. “Will he be at the meeting tomorrow?”

I nod. “I’m planning on approaching him about it – he hasn’t admitted anything yet but I’m gonna try and get an admission tomorrow so that I can tell the council.”

“No, don’t approach him. I will.”

“You will? Wait – you believe me?”

She nods. “Unfortunately, I think I’ve known this would happen for a while. Besides, either way, it’d be better coming from me – safer.”

I nod.

Then she stands. “I’m just going to go and tell Sarah and Caden that they can come back in now, seeing as the personal stuff’s over.”

I nod again, but her admission of knowing what they were doing makes me smile.

As I sit and wait for them to return, I realise, possibly for the first time, just how fast things are moving, and how close I am getting to swapping back. If we can get Patrick to talk, I may very well be back in my real body by the end of next week. The thought both scares and excites me, and I close my eyes and sigh.

Tomorrow is going to be a big day. I can only hope that we all get through it alive.