of the X-Men or something—how cool would that have been?), and I knew by the end of the experimenting that it was earth-based powers, for sure.
I had a rock on my shelf, an old piece of amethyst I’d gotten after taking this summer program for kids at one of the local schools—I think it lasted one summer, but I liked it—for geology. When I made my moves toward it, it rattled off the shelf obligingly, spinning in the air like I’d lifted it with my own hands and was playing with it.
I was combining the dirt fist with the amethyst when the knock came at the door. It was sudden, insistent—Momma all the way. “Taneshia’s here,” she said, and I froze, my dirt hand and amethyst completely forgotten. They both fell to the floor in a moment of shock, the amethyst cracking down and skittering sideways like it had been kicked, the hand just dispersing into a mess in a shaggy carpet in front of the bed.
“Oh, hell,” I said, leaping off the bed to scramble for the amethyst. It was kind of stupid in retrospect since I now had the power to control it with my thoughts, but hey, c’mon. I lived nineteen years thinking I had to pick stuff up to move it physically. Give me a break on not remembering that after six hours.
Momma opened the door, and I caught her peering down at me. There were no locks in Momma’s house, which had been very, very awkward as a teenager. She stared at me on my hands and knees on the floor, amethyst in my grasping and extended fingers as I looked up at her, probably looking more guilty than if she’d caught me naked as a jaybird on my bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, in a tone that told me she wanted to add, “fool boy,” to that last part but lacked a justifiable reason to do so.
“You surprised me and I dropped my amethyst,” I said, getting to my feet and holding it out. “I was, uh … tossing it around.”
She cocked that eyebrow at me like I was lying to her. Which I wasn’t, really! I had been tossing around the amethyst. With my mind, but still. “I said Taneshia’s here.”
I looked straight at her. Taneshia showing up was not an unusual thing. My momma collected other kids in the neighborhood like some people collected—I don’t know, cigarette packs, or old cars. She saw something in everybody, and she tried to be encouraging, be like a momma to them, too. That got tougher as time went by and a lot of us got older and crept off the kind of paths Momma approved of. I remember one of my friends from when I was young took to dealing when he was … I don’t know, twelve, maybe? He said hi the next time they passed, and she gave him a look that sent him about running. Never gave him the time of day again after that. Momma could write you off quick if she was of a mind to.
Taneshia was definitely one of my momma’s collection. She still came over a couple times a week, even though she had long days at Georgia Tech. It wasn’t far or anything, like twenty minutes or less to walk.
“She’s here for you, though, right?” I asked, staring at her, a little baffled.
Her head dropped a little so she could look at me while appearing to roll her eyes up. “Get out here, boy.” She closed the door with a thump.
I straightened myself up quickly, gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I tried to affect the look of a man at leisure. I didn’t change clothes or anything for her, because that would have been too … uh … contrived? Needy? Desperate?
Augustus Coleman is not a desperate man, all right? I’m careful. I’m selective.
And I’m single because I live with my momma and she would kill me if I brought a woman home. Full on kill me. I had my first time at eighteen in my girlfriend-at-the-time’s backyard because I was scared witless that someone would see us go into her house. Instead we did it on a picnic table out back while I was watching the top of the fence around me with paranoid intensity, sure someone was going to see me and tell Momma. “What
I had a rock on my shelf, an old piece of amethyst I’d gotten after taking this summer program for kids at one of the local schools—I think it lasted one summer, but I liked it—for geology. When I made my moves toward it, it rattled off the shelf obligingly, spinning in the air like I’d lifted it with my own hands and was playing with it.
I was combining the dirt fist with the amethyst when the knock came at the door. It was sudden, insistent—Momma all the way. “Taneshia’s here,” she said, and I froze, my dirt hand and amethyst completely forgotten. They both fell to the floor in a moment of shock, the amethyst cracking down and skittering sideways like it had been kicked, the hand just dispersing into a mess in a shaggy carpet in front of the bed.
“Oh, hell,” I said, leaping off the bed to scramble for the amethyst. It was kind of stupid in retrospect since I now had the power to control it with my thoughts, but hey, c’mon. I lived nineteen years thinking I had to pick stuff up to move it physically. Give me a break on not remembering that after six hours.
Momma opened the door, and I caught her peering down at me. There were no locks in Momma’s house, which had been very, very awkward as a teenager. She stared at me on my hands and knees on the floor, amethyst in my grasping and extended fingers as I looked up at her, probably looking more guilty than if she’d caught me naked as a jaybird on my bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, in a tone that told me she wanted to add, “fool boy,” to that last part but lacked a justifiable reason to do so.
“You surprised me and I dropped my amethyst,” I said, getting to my feet and holding it out. “I was, uh … tossing it around.”
She cocked that eyebrow at me like I was lying to her. Which I wasn’t, really! I had been tossing around the amethyst. With my mind, but still. “I said Taneshia’s here.”
I looked straight at her. Taneshia showing up was not an unusual thing. My momma collected other kids in the neighborhood like some people collected—I don’t know, cigarette packs, or old cars. She saw something in everybody, and she tried to be encouraging, be like a momma to them, too. That got tougher as time went by and a lot of us got older and crept off the kind of paths Momma approved of. I remember one of my friends from when I was young took to dealing when he was … I don’t know, twelve, maybe? He said hi the next time they passed, and she gave him a look that sent him about running. Never gave him the time of day again after that. Momma could write you off quick if she was of a mind to.
Taneshia was definitely one of my momma’s collection. She still came over a couple times a week, even though she had long days at Georgia Tech. It wasn’t far or anything, like twenty minutes or less to walk.
“She’s here for you, though, right?” I asked, staring at her, a little baffled.
Her head dropped a little so she could look at me while appearing to roll her eyes up. “Get out here, boy.” She closed the door with a thump.
I straightened myself up quickly, gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I tried to affect the look of a man at leisure. I didn’t change clothes or anything for her, because that would have been too … uh … contrived? Needy? Desperate?
Augustus Coleman is not a desperate man, all right? I’m careful. I’m selective.
And I’m single because I live with my momma and she would kill me if I brought a woman home. Full on kill me. I had my first time at eighteen in my girlfriend-at-the-time’s backyard because I was scared witless that someone would see us go into her house. Instead we did it on a picnic table out back while I was watching the top of the fence around me with paranoid intensity, sure someone was going to see me and tell Momma. “What
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