Freakling (5 page)

Yens gaped like a dying fish. His eyes widened with fear.

Taemon remembered his terror inside the sea cave. Fear. Helplessness. Exhaustion. He wanted Yens to feel every bit of that. Yens fell off the chair and onto the floor. He lay curled in a ball, trembling.

“That’s what it was like,” Taemon said. Let Yens figure out a way to live without breathing. Let Yens feel death tugging on his sleeve.

But as he watched Yens struggle to breathe, questions and doubts swirled in Taemon’s head. How was this possible? Taemon shouldn’t be able to use psi against Yens unless he was defending himself or assisting him, and he certainly wasn’t showing affection. How was he able to attack his brother like this when he was clearly acting outside his authority? Wasn’t this the same thing Yens had been experimenting with? But why could Taemon do it?

A voice — a female voice — he had never heard before spoke in Taemon’s mind. It was calm and clear.

Your thoughts are true. Your brother has chosen selfishness, greed, and ambition. Pride clouds his vision, whereas your humility allows you to see truth.

Scenes flashed in Taemon’s mind. Yens looking down at the lifeless body of a pretty girl. Yens tearing buildings apart. Yens ordering armies into battle.

You have authority to end his life.

End his life? This was madness! This was forbidden!

This is truth,
the voice said.
I give the authority.

Taemon looked at Yens. His face was blue. His eyes were wild. Worst of all, Taemon was glad.

Part of him wanted to obey the voice. It would be so easy. No one would know Taemon had killed him. Yens could have easily choked on the food he was cramming down.

Taemon felt his psi gathering. Gathering, building, waiting for the order.

The order to kill.

Skies, what was he thinking? If ever there was bad psi, this was it! Yens’s face turned from blue to purple, and the psi inside Taemon screamed to be released. He felt dizzy — dizzy with power, with the significance of his choice. Dizzy with fear.

There was only one choice if he didn’t want to kill Yens. Hardly a choice at all. He fixed his mind on what he wanted.

Be it so!

The order came from some deep part of Taemon, beneath awareness and reason. Someplace where survival was all that mattered.

Taemon’s body trembled as a vast amount of psi left him. Over the ringing in his ears he heard Yens gasp deep breaths. He watched as the color returned to his brother’s face.

Then everything went completely dark.

The first day of the new school year was only a few days away and Taemon hadn’t even started his lock yet. A psi lock wasn’t that hard to make. For a person with psi.

But Taemon had no psi. Not one shred. Not since the awful day one month and five days ago when he had almost killed Yens. Da was certain it was temporary, but Taemon knew differently. Somehow he had lost all connection with psi.

Taemon had thought a lot about that moment, that split second when everything changed, wondering how it had happened. He remembered wanting to kill Yens, building up a huge amount of psi, and then changing his mind. The Heart of the Earth had deemed him unworthy of psi. That was the only reason he could think of for losing it.

Maybe it was best this way. At least he didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone.

Standing in Da’s workshop, Taemon stared at a box full of bolts and cams and latches that might be used to make a lock. The lock was due at the end of the week. Four days left to figure out how to make a lock that didn’t need psi. He let out a huff.

Da stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. “We could make something that looks like a lock, but isn’t.”

Taemon shook his head. “The teacher will know. She’ll test it.”

Mam walked in the workshop. “Any progress?”

“Not yet.” Taemon sighed.

“I can talk to your new teacher,” Da said. “I’ll tell her you’re still upset about the accident.”

Taemon shook his head.

“We’ll tell her that you have trouble using psi in front of people,” Mam said. “We’ll tell her you’re really shy and —”

“No,” Taemon said. Would they ever stop treating him like a baby? They seemed to think that being powerless was the same as being an infant. “I’m going to figure something out. Some way to trick them.”

Mam and Da exchanged a look. Da placed a hand on Taemon’s shoulder. He shrugged it off.

“Son,” Da said, “it’s time to find your psi again. You have it inside you somewhere. All you need is confidence. Just because Yens’s psi is so strong doesn’t mean —”

“Can we please not talk about Yens?” Taemon said. Since the accident, Yens’s psionic ability had skyrocketed. All that experimenting he’d done must have paid off. Or maybe Taemon’s weakness gave Yens more confidence. Whatever the reason, Yens was beginning to really stand out. He’d been named captain of his psiball team. He’d taken the golden urn at the young musicians’ festival. All this while Taemon was trying to figure out how to zip his own fly without asking Mam to do it for him.

“You might as well accept it,” Taemon said to Da. “I have no psi. None.”

“Shh!” The door slammed shut with Mam’s psi. “If someone heard that, you’d be carted off before first light.”

Taemon frowned. “Don’t worry: no one will know. I’ve faked it this far, haven’t I?”

It was true. In just four weeks, Taemon had learned to deceive neighbors, friends, and people at church. Sleight-of-hand tricks worked well. And magnets often came in handy.

Most people figured he was clumsy and slow since the accident. No one seemed to suspect that Taemon was powerless. Probably because no one had ever spent much time around a powerless person. The only disabled people in the city were the dozen or so that lived and worked in the temple. They were innocents, powerless people who didn’t know anything different. No one spoke to them or saw them outside the temple.

“You can’t fake everything,” Da said. “What about lunch at school? You can’t eat in front of anyone.”

“I’ve already thought of that,” Taemon said. “I’ll spend lunch in my classroom doing schoolwork. I’ll need more time to do my assignments anyway. I can eat when I get home.”

“Still, I’m not sure you can pull this off,” Da said. “We should work on finding your psi.”

“It’s not like I’ve misplaced it,” Taemon said, frustrated. “It’s
gone.
” Completely. His parents thought his disability was due to the trauma of near drowning, and he’d never told them anything different. He’d never told them how he’d become unworthy of psi. Being powerless was a shameful thing — more so, even, than being a liar and a cheat. But at least he wasn’t dangerous anymore.

Skies, but this lock assignment had him stumped. “Just leave me alone and let me figure this out,” he told his parents.

Most of the time, Taemon was allowed to eat alone in his bedroom where he could use his hands all he wanted. At dinner, Mam insisted that they eat together. “We’re still a family,” she’d said, “and families eat together.”

But that did not mean Taemon was permitted the use of his hands at the dinner table. Mam used her psi to hold his food up for him to eat, as she had done when he was a baby. He felt a wave of humiliation with every bite.

Tonight, Da was quiet and broody, though Yens seemed to be in a good mood. Maybe they could have an argument-free meal for once.

Yens cleared his throat. “Today is a great day for the Houser family.”

Mam looked nervously at Da. The caramelized cucumber in front of Taemon dropped to his plate. He couldn’t pick it up. Short of lowering his head to his plate like a dog, he couldn’t eat until Mam picked up his food for him.

Cucumbers were no big loss. He didn’t even like them. What he’d really like to do is tuck into that lamb roll.

Yens leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. In spite of himself, Taemon was curious about what Yens was going to announce. What was it this time? Had his exhibit for the nature fair taken first place?

Da raised his eyes from his meal with a dark look. “Boasting is not permitted in this house.” Da was always firm about the sin of pride. The scriptures said pride would be the downfall of the true people. Da took that seriously.

Taemon stared at the food on his plate. As hungry as he was, he didn’t dare pick it up.

“Some priests came to the school today and tested a few of us.” Taemon could hear the glee in Yens’s voice, and the fact that the news was upsetting to Da seemed to add to it. “The results were . . . interesting.” Yens let his words hang in the air for a moment for maximum effect. “They said I did things they’d never seen before.”

Da buried his head in his hands.

Mam looked stunned.

Yens grinned. “Don’t be surprised when they pick me as the True Son.”

Calmly, Mam pushed back her chair and walked over to Yens. Taemon startled at the smacking sound that came next. Yens recoiled, and when a red spot appeared on his cheek, Taemon understood what had happened. Mam had slapped Yens’s face with psi. Even though parents had authority to discipline their children with psi, Mam had never done it before. Maybe a twist of the ear now and again, but nothing like a slap.

She left the room.

Da glared at Yens. “Do you see? Do you see what this is doing to her?”

Poor Mam. She could never relax. She was Rabbit through and through, jumpy by nature. But every sign had a positive and a negative side. Mam would do anything to survive. Anything to make sure her boys weren’t taken away. Yens to the temple and Taemon to the dud farm. Taemon could not control Yens — no one could — but he would make sure
he
never got sent away.

Yens showed no such concern. “Da, you’re a religion teacher. You should be proud — I mean
pleased
— that I’m to be the True Son.”

Da gripped the table. “It’s not a contest. It isn’t a prize to be won. The Heart of Earth will choose the one to begin the next Great Cycle.”

“But the high priest says the True Son has been born. They’re looking for someone who —”

“The high priest is looking to increase his own power,” Da said. He shook his head slowly. “He only wants someone he can mold into the True Son. Someone to help him manipulate the people. If he takes you to the temple, you’ll be the true puppet, nothing more.”

“What is wrong with this family?” Yens stood up and left the table. As his brother stormed out of the room, Taemon noticed that the red mark on Yens’s cheek was in the shape of a rabbit. Mam had left her mark, sure as sunrise.

Taemon frowned. Could Yens really be the True Son? He was powerful enough. But somehow Taemon had always thought the True Son would be different. Someone . . . good.

A new thought struck Taemon: What if he had come a breath away from killing the True Son?

Worse yet, what if he should have killed Yens in order to
prevent
him from becoming the True Son?

Skies! It was all so confusing. He’d lost his psi either because of his unworthy thoughts or because he wasn’t brave enough to do what needed to be done. Did it really matter which one? Either way amounted to a massive failure.

Taemon and Yens had never spoken of what happened that day. Talking about it would mean admitting that Taemon had bested him, and Yens wouldn’t do that. Just as he wouldn’t say anything about his little brother being a powerless slug — not when it might mar his prospects for becoming the True Son. But once he was chosen, if he was chosen, would he still keep quiet?

Perhaps the one bright outcome of all this was that the competition between Taemon and his brother had evaporated. Yens was clearly the star in the family, and Taemon was clearly the weakling. Yens was the psiball champion, the outstanding scholar, the gifted musician. Taemon fell easily into the role of Nobody.

Mam did not come back to the table, which meant Taemon’s meal was over. The cucumber lay tepid and limp on his plate, which was fine with him. But walking away from the untouched lamb roll?
That
was difficult.

Four days later, Taemon’s big moment came. It was time to demonstrate his lock. Taemon had already attached it to the handle of the locker when no one was looking. He stood in the hallway and waited for the teacher. It was midmorning break. Taemon had specifically requested this time slot to complete his lock assignment. He hoped the people milling around in the hall would distract the teacher. And Taemon needed all the distractions he could get.

The lock worked at home, but could he do it in front of the teacher? Was it good enough to fool her? Or would he wake up tomorrow at the dud farm?

The teacher walked up and stood next to Taemon. She leaned forward, peering at the lock. “It certainly has a . . . unique design.”

“Um, thank you,” said Taemon. “That’s what I intended.”

Was it too different? Would it stand out too much? He’d soon find out.

Tilting the lock upward with her psi, the teacher peered at it and frowned. “This slot on the bottom . . . what’s it for?”

“I . . . don’t want to be rude but . . . I’d rather not explain.”

The teacher sniffed. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s the point of a lock, to make it incomprehensible to others.”