Hold Tight (The Embrace Series) (3 page)

“It’s fun! ‘Rubbity, scrubbity, sweepity, flow,’” Chase sang along with Merlin.

Fun
was not the word I’d use to describe a six-year-old with powers. Not to mention I’d have to tell Dad magic was real.

“Can you do it again?” I asked, needing to see him do a spell with my own two eyes.

“Sure!” Chase zoomed around the room, his arms held out to the side as he took the long way to the end table. “Look behind you!”

I did, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him slam the magazine he’d been holding on top of the pile. I fought back a smile. “What’s behind me?”

“Look, the magazine flew right on top of the others!”

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, reminding me I hadn’t taken it out of silent mode after school. “It sure did,” I replied to Chase. “You’ll have to teach me that someday.”

“Okay.” He went back to singing along with Merlin.

Into the receiver, I said, “Hey, Sarah. What’s up?”

“Hi. Did you hear Ben’s having a small get-together at his house Saturday night?”

“No.” I dumped the laundry into the washing machine.

“Mark and I are going. You and Kaylee have to come or I won’t know anyone.”

Sarah Johnson and Mark Schacter had been dating for a month, but they were from different social circles. Sarah was an A student, on several committees, and voted most likely to succeed. Mark skated by with Cs, the last committee he’d joined was to get close to a girl, and he didn’t even make it on the radar to be voted anything.

“Pleeease,” she begged. “I know Ben invited Isaac and Josh.”

I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday night was get drunk with Ben’s buddies, but Sarah was my second-oldest friend, and if she needed me, she knew I’d be there for her.

“I’ll talk to Isaac.”

“You’re the best! See you at school.”

I said bye, poured detergent and softener into the appropriate dispensers, and hit start. Merlin’s and Arthur’s voices drifted out of the family room. It got me thinking that I was going about my chores the hard way. Why wasn’t I using my powers to clean the house? Just because I hadn’t mastered psychokinesis didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to speed things up.

“You can do this.” I rubbed my hands together and found my center. All I had to do was focus on the task at hand. I needed the dishwasher door to open. I’d barely finished the thought when the door not only swung open, but the lower drawer rolled out too.

“That was easy,” I said, pleased with myself. With a wave of my hand, I thought,
To the cabinet!

The air around me grew thick with my powers as the aroma of chocolate-covered strawberries filled the kitchen, letting me know I had fueled my magic with positive emotions. The plates, bowls, and casserole dish rose as one and, along with the silverware, hung suspended above the rack for a long moment. But just as I realized I probably should have concentrated on one dish at a time, everything torpedoed itself toward me on its way to the closed cabinet next to the fridge. I screamed, covered my head with my arms, and ducked. A spoon skimmed my elbow, and with a deafening clamor, the whole lot crashed into the cabinet and tumbled to the floor. The casserole dish shattered. Two of the forks and a steak knife embedded themselves into the door.

Chase came running into the kitchen, skidding to a stop next to the table. “What happened?”

I jumped up and hastily positioned myself in front of the cutlery stuck in the cabinet door. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“I tried to carry too much at once,” I lied. “Are you done in the other room?”

“Almost.” He spun and sprinted out of the kitchen.

I grabbed a dishtowel and knelt down to survey the damage. The dishes were shatterproof, so only one had broken. It went into the garbage; the rest I put away the mortal way.

I was giving Chase a bath when Dad finally got home.

“I still can’t get used to the whole two-tone short thing you got going on with your hair,” he said from behind me.

“Hi, Daddy!” Chase blew a mound of bubbles his way. Most landed on the floor next to me.

I ran a hand over my head. “They’re called low-lights, and I like them.”

“Yeah, well, they make you look too grown up.”

I chuckled, knowing he would have loved it if I stayed his precious princess forever. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll always be your little girl.”

“Uh huh.” He stepped over a pile of dirty towels and leaned on the doorframe. “I thought you were going to do some cleaning.”

“Kitchen’s all shiny, and I put your T-shirts and socks in your drawer.” It had been the first and only load of laundry I’d gotten done.

“I’ll take over here.” Dad motioned for me to move, so we traded places.

“With winter here, shouldn’t things at work quiet down some?” I asked.

Dad owned his own handyman business. Fall always brought a rush of exterior paint jobs, but by December things usually slowed dramatically, leaving only sporadic odd jobs.

“I won the bid at Dr. Patel’s. I’m remodeling the reception area, and then there are my regular clients.” He used the bed of a plastic dump trunk to scoop up water and rinse the shampoo out of Chase’s hair. Satisfied Chase was no longer an oversized suds-monster, he pulled the plug on the drain.

“You look exhausted, Dad.” I handed him a fluffy blue bath towel. “Why don’t you hire an assistant? Then you could get everything you need done in a normal workday.”

“I promise things will get back to normal, Madison. A few more weeks.”

The dark circles under his eyes gave the impression he wouldn’t last that long. I decided to lighten the mood. “Good, because apparently I don’t know how to make an epic bubble bath.”

Dad covered Chase’s ears with his hands like he was about to share top-secret information with me. “Quantity,” he said. “I dump half the bottle of bubbles into the water.”

“I should have known.” I shook my head. “I made you a plate.”

“Thanks.” He scooped Chase up like a sack of wet towels, eliciting a squeal of delight from my brother. I’d turned to head to my room when he added, “Madison, I know it’s been hard. I just want you to know I really appreciate all your help.”

“No problem.”

I checked my phone for messages as I walked to my bedroom. There were none. I set it on the nightstand and changed into pajamas before grabbing my history book and plopping down on my bed. I was exhausted but knew I should at least glance over the chapter we’d been working on as there was a test the next day. It only took a few minutes for me to realize I needed music if I was going to stay awake.

I leaned back, my hand feeling around on the top of the nightstand for my phone. When I didn’t find it, I turned my head. It wasn’t there. I checked the floor in case it had fallen off. It hadn’t.

“Chase!” I jumped up, ready to yell at my brother for playing a trick on me when I spotted my phone on the dresser. I glanced from it to the nightstand as a chill passed through me, leaving the fine hairs on my arms standing on end.

“Hello, is someone here?”

Silence answered me, but an eerie feeling of being watched prickled my skin. I ran into my brother’s room. Chase sat on his bed with his back against Dad’s chest as they read a story together.

“Were you just in my room?” I asked.

Dad put a finger to his lips. “He’s drifting off.”

I crept back to my room and peeked inside. It was empty. My phone still rested on my dresser.

“Where you must have left it,” I told myself, grabbing it and jumping under my covers.

Nonetheless, I slept with the light on that night, not fully convinced I’d imagined the cold or the sensation of unseen eyes watching me.

Chapter 4

Not Alone

“Does it hurt?” My fingertips lingered on the smooth, pearly white scar on Isaac’s chin.

We sat on the couch in his family room, me straddling his lap. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of my eyes with his thumb.

“No.”

“It’s cold,” I said, amazed that the skin there never warmed to match the rest of him.

“You really want to talk about my scars? I have one on my side too.” He lifted his shirt, revealing a salmon-colored blemish along his lower ribcage. “I got this one jumping a fence when I was nine. Didn’t quite make it.” He pulled the waist of his jeans down next, just low enough for me to see the rope-like muscles that ran alongside his hip bone. “And I got this one when I was eleven. Tried jumping my bike over one of those workhorses. Back tire caught on the orange light. Bike stopped; I didn’t. Flew right over the handlebars. I have another one on my thigh.” His fingers went to the button on his jeans.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, my hand catching his.

My cheeks grew warm, and his gaze moved to my lips.
Breathe. In. Out,
I told myself.
I will kiss him without getting shocked. In. Out.

Isaac’s lips brushed mine with a feather-soft kiss that left me dying for more. Afterward, I stilled my racing heart and tucked my powers behind the steel wall, ready to kiss him again.

“How about we practice controlling the elements,” he said instead, much to my disappointment. His powers encompassed me, creating the feeling of weightlessness. With his hands on my waist, he lifted me off him as if I were a teddy bear and not a hundred-pound girl.

I folded my arms over my chest. “I thought the girl was supposed to be the one to slam on the brakes.”

“I’m merely trying to make the most of our time before you have to pick your brother up at the sitter’s. Besides, my mom’s due home any minute.” He held out a hand to help me up.

“Right.” I sighed and let him pull me to my feet.

Ever since our last attempt at making out, it had been quick pecks and teasing whispers of kisses. It sucked, but there was a reason Isaac wanted me to master controlling the elements. Stirring the air and summoning a storm required one’s mind to be at peace and in control of the powers. If my emotions sprinted wildly through my body, my powers would too, and the spell would show it. But if I could stop the rain or warm the breeze, then I could successfully tuck my powers behind the wall in my mind and kiss Isaac like a normal person.

We went outside to practice in the backyard. The sun hung at about three o’clock in a bright turquoise sky. The temperature was a pleasant forty-six degrees.

Isaac closed his eyes, taking a moment to find his center. When he opened them, the air around us felt charged.

“Draw in the energy from the atmosphere and trees and then concentrate on what you want to happen,” he said.

He raised his arms to either side. As if commanded, the dried leaves on the grass in front of us rose several feet off the ground. He then moved his hands through the air like an orchestra’s conductor does to signal its musicians to raise their instruments. The leaves shifted closer to us.

With a sweeping downward swing of Isaac’s right hand, the leaves began to dance around us to the melody of an unheard song. With his left hand, he pointed to the statue of an oversized frog and an equally disproportioned grasshopper. The frog picked up two twigs, which it used like drumsticks on the landscape stones nearby. The grasshopper rubbed its hind leg against its wing to provide the strings. Isaac tapped his forefingers in the air, and the tempo went from slow and romantic to quick and jolly. The leaves responded by twirling around us as if performing a choreographed waltz. It was beautiful to watch.

After a few minutes, the breeze died down and the leaves settled back on the ground.

“Your turn,” he said.

“You want me to do that?” I asked in awe.

“Start small. Just get the leaves to circle us.”

I closed my eyes in an effort to find my center, but no matter how hard I tried, Isaac’s orchestrated performance kept poking its way into my thoughts. I decided to try to copy what he’d done.

I raised my hands to my sides, but nothing happened. Isaac smiled encouragingly. I sucked in a breath, imagined I was conducting a ballet, and swung my hands in front of me. This time the leaves rose around us. I moved my fingers in a steady motion from side to side, hoping the leaves would follow. They did more of a frantic bunny hop than a graceful dance, but I’d take it. Isaac cued up the frog and grasshopper. They played a bubbly polka.