CHAPTER FOUR

I find myself in the bathroom the next morning, staring at my reflection. There are many things about my face that remind me of Sarah, seeing as my overall features – my nose, my lips, my smile, my eyebrows – haven't changed since I returned to this body, but my hair, long and ash blonde, is the worst. It hangs straight, resting innocently on my shoulders, and yet it still manages to make me feel like I've stolen something that doesn't belong to me, like I'm an outsider, stealing into someone else's body.

I know I shouldn't feel this way – this was, after all, my body to begin with – but while I can deal with confronting Sarah's facial features every time I look in the mirror, I can't cope with having her hair. Every time I see it, resting on my shoulders, brushing against my skin, I'm reminded of Sarah, and of everything I did to her and her family. When I was young, I always used to admire her hair, wishing I could trade her gorgeous golden locks for my average-jane brown mop.

Never did I think my wish would come true.

Suddenly coming to a decision, I grab a hairband, tug the hair back into a ponytail and pull open one of the drawers in the bathroom cabinet. I have to dig around a bit until I find the scissors, but when I do, I shut the drawer and bring my ponytail around to rest on one shoulder, gripping it tightly in my hand.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," I say to my reflection. Then I bring the scissors to my hair and start cutting.

-:-:-:-:-

When I leave the bathroom, my hair just brushes my shoulders. The ends are a bit uneven, but I decide I don't care. I've done this plenty of times over the years, trimming my own hair in order to avoid going to a hairdresser. There's no fun in sitting in a chair while every stares at you warily, including the person holding a pair of scissors just below your neck. I made the mistake of going when I was younger, and I've never gone since.

I step into the dining room and find Sarah already at the table, eating breakfast alone. She looks up as I enter, and I watch as her mouth forms an 'O'.

"You're hair," she observes.

I nod, and take a seat opposite her, not hungry enough to eat.

"Why'd you cut it?"

I shrug. There's no way I'm explaining how much it reminds me of her, how much it pains me to see it every day. I should have cut it as soon as I swapped back. "I suppose I just wanted a change," I say.

She stares at me for a few seconds, determining whether or not I'm lying, but then she lets out a breath and returns to her food, seeming satisfied. "I suppose you want to hear the rest of my explanation from the other night, then," she says a minute later, stirring her increasingly soggy cereal with a spoon.

I had forgotten all about it. Funny the things your mind forgets. I nod.

Sarah sighs. "It will probably take a while to explain. How about we meet somewhere tomorrow and talk it over?"

"Not here?"

She shakes her head. "I'd feel more comfortable if it was just you and me. Caden doesn't know, and I only want it to be known to the minimum amount of people possible. If it somehow gets out that I..." She stops, and then continues again, quieter. "I don't know what I'd do if everyone knew."

It frustrates me, how long this is being extended. I have too much to deal with, and the longer I wait for answers, the harder it gets to cope with all the worries swirling dangerously around inside my head.

But I just nod. "How about we talk over lunch? We can go to a café or something."

Sarah nods. Smiles. "That'd be good." Then she seems to remember something, and the smile falls away.

"There's another thing, as well," I say, and she looks back up at me. "We need to visit my father – your real father. We need to tell him the truth."

Sarah looks at me, wide-eyed. "No," she says, shaking her head back and forth. "I can't. I can't face up to that."

"Sarah, he's your dad," I say. "He's your own blood. You have to meet him, just as I had to meet Katherine." Sarah's still shaking her head. I continue. "And he has to know the truth. We can't leave him out of this anymore."

"Please, I can't," she says.

I frown. "I don't understand why you don't hate me for what I've done to him. I just left him, Sarah. Just left him in that house with no explanation. Nothing. What kind of daughter does that to her own father?"

She shakes her head, and now I see that there are tears welling in her eyes. "Please, stop," she says, her voice shaky. "I can't take this."

I tilt my head slightly to one side and she sucks in a gasping breath. "How could I possibly hate you?" she continues. "I could never hate you for this, not after...not after..." And then the tears break free, flowing down her cheeks.

I can do nothing but watch her, unsure of what to say or what to do. I can't understand why she's so upset. Surely I should be the one crying, begging her forgiveness for abandoning her father? I feel like I've awoken to a parallel world, where things are the same, but different. Where a string of events have occurred which everyone is aware of except me. Shouldn't I know why she's crying? And am I a horrible person for not understanding?

Eventually, her tears dry up and she pulls herself together. "I'm sorry," she says, clearing away the last of her sadness with a shake of the head. I stare, startled by how quickly she's recovered. "You're right. We need to meet with him. He needs to know the truth."

I don't know how to react to what I've just witnessed. And I don't know how I should feel about it. But I nod. "Okay. How about we drop by his place before lunch tomorrow?"

Sarah nods, attempting a smile. "Sounds like a plan." She stands up, her chair scooting silently back along the floor, and heads over to the kitchen, placing her empty bowl in the sink.

Just as she turns and heads down the hallway, Caden enters the room, yawning. She walks right past him with barely even a hello.

Caden stares after her before turning back to me. "Is she okay? She looks like she's been crying."

I stare at the hallway she's disappeared down, feeling lost. "I honestly don't know," I say.

-:-:-:-:-

After lunch, Katherine and I meet in the garage for my daily training. I know I need to be focused on the task at hand, but my mind is still too caught up on what happened this morning and on Sarah's bizarre reaction, making it hard to control my powers. Did I say something wrong? Is this her way of telling me she hates me? My mind aches.

"Maya," Katherine says, snapping her fingers after I've spent a good minute just staring at the floor. "Are you with me?"

I shake myself out of my thoughts and nod. It feels strange responding to a different name, and I still haven't quite got the hang of it yet.

My mother looks sceptical for a second, but continues one anyway. "I've been thinking," she says, "and I've realised that we're thinking about this wrong. You can't just view your powers as something to use, you have to accept them as a part of you."

"How is that different from what I've been doing already?" I ask.

"Well, they're just another piece of what makes up who you are, but because you haven't grown up with them, you've been viewing them as if they're something separate, something you could live without, and that is restricting you. You have to use your abilities as you would use a sword – as an extension of yourself. Only then will you be able to choose when or when not to use them. Only then will you have full control."

I think about her words for a moment. "What should I do, then?"

"Close your eyes, but don't imagine what you want to happen anymore, just think it. Don't even acknowledge the thought. Decide, and let it happen. Using your powers should be like deciding to move a limb. It's an unconscious decision, but a decision nonetheless." She grabs a bucket and places it in front of me. "Try to get it to levitate a couple inches off the ground," she says.

I nod and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Doing as she says, I don't imagine anything, instead only making the decision for the bucket to lift. There's a loud bam, followed by a clattering noise, and I open my eyes to see the bucket rolling across the floor.

I heave a sigh, feeling my shoulders droop. "This is pointless," I say. "I'm never going to be able to control them – they're too strong. Maybe I should just give up and be home-schooled like Sarah."

My mother shakes her head. "No, you can do this, I believe you can. You're just forcing it too much. It has to feel natural."

"But it doesn't! I'm using freaking magical powers for god's sake. How is that natural?"

Katherine frowns. "I can't say. That is something you must discover on your own."

I sigh, frustrated. "Thanks for the help," I mumble. "Maybe we should just call it a day."

"But we've barely started. At least try again." When I don't say anything, she adds, "I know this is frustrating, but you can do this, Maya, and you will. It's just a matter of time."

I let out a breath. "Okay," I say, acquiescing, "I'll give it one more try, but after that I'm done."

She nods, and I close my eyes, mentally preparing myself for my ultimate failure.

Just decide. Let it happen, I think to myself, and I slow my breathing. Then, I allow myself to make the choice, to decide. I feel a tug, like someone's pulling at a string attached to my heart, and I know that it's worked, that the bucket is floating.

"Melissa," Katherine says, forgetting my change of name. Her voice almost sounds afraid. "You may want to open your eyes."

I do as she says, and immediately suck in a breath. No way...

No, it wasn't fear I heard in Katherine's voice – it was awe. Instead of simply targeting the bucket, I've lifted every object in the room, and now they float around us, paintbrushes, work tools, shards of glass and plastic and metal and wood, all of it suspended high in the air. I slowly turn around in a circle, unable to believe that I'm the one controlling it all.

Slowly, a fragment of glass floats towards me and I gently push it away with my finger. "This is amazing," I whisper.

When I turn back around to look at Katherine, she's staring at me, her face unreadable. Slowly, I begin to lower everything back down to the ground. It requires barely any thought – as soon as I decide it, it happens, and it's effortless. I control the telekinesis as effortlessly as one would control their own limbs, and suddenly I understand what Katherine meant about it feeling natural. It does feel natural, as natural as breathing and walking and sleeping. I feel a connection between me and every object in the air, as through we're all linked by tiny, invisible threads, and my power surges down these threads, keeping everything suspended.

Slowly, it all comes to rest on the floor, and I let out a slow breath, in awe at what I've accomplished. Was it really just yesterday that my powers were uncontrollable?

Looking up, I realise that Katherine's watching me, considering me with a thoughtful expression in her eyes. Then, suddenly, she lifts her chin and her expression changes, her face set in determination and pride. "There are things you haven't been told, Melissa," she says, drawing out her words. "Things I and others have kept from you. But now, more than ever, you need to know the truth. And this proves, beyond doubt, that you are ready."

She smiles and extends a hand to me. "Come, you have much to learn."

A/N

Melissa's pulled a bit of a Tris in this chapter, and as much as I fought against the inclusion of the cutting-of-the-hair scene (mainly because it's an over-used idea that I can't read without thinking of Divergent), it felt wrong to leave it out. So I hope you can look past cliché-ness of this scene and instead focus on its meaning and contribution to the story.

Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll be updating again around Monday next week, as I'm currently on term holidays and have a good amount of spare time.

Thanks for reading :)

- Shaye