BEING JAMIE BAKER

Chapter 8

  I used to wish on stars that one day I'd be able to escape the tiny hick town I grew up in. But I guess I wasn't specific enough, because Sacramento suburbia? Big step down. Driving through its dull brown neighborhoods is a lot like passing through all those cornfields I used to hate so much in Illinois, only not so glamorous.

Yup, there's nothing like an endless row of tract homes rolling past your window to make a long stretch of awkward silence seem even longer. When we finally reached the end of my neighborhood Ryan broke the quiet with a measly "Where to?"

The sound of his voice startled me so badly that I accidentally let out a burst of energy that not only blitzed the radio and the lights on his dashboard, but actually revved the engine of the truck. Ryan tapped the gauges on the dash with a frown and started to say something, but I screamed before he could get any words out.

"Stop the car!"

Ryan looked at me, a little stunned, but pulled the truck to a stop. I immediately jumped out before I fried the car and him along with it. As I started walking away I felt electricity pulsing through my body, and I was too upset to stop it.

"Stop!" I screamed when Ryan came running after me. "Don't touch me!"

He stopped only for a second because I'd startled him, but then he slowly reached out for me.

"I mean it, Ryan! Don't come any closer!" I backed away from him again. "I don't want to hurt you!"

Ryan didn't just look confused; he looked scared. Sadly, he was right to be afraid. I was dangerous. "What do you mean, 'hurt' me?"

"I can't control it!"

"Control what?"

The more upset Ryan got, the more frantic I became. I clenched my hands into tight fists when I felt them start to heat up, and suddenly the streetlight I was standing under lit up and exploded.

After Ryan ducked the shower of glass, I watched him make the connection between his truck, the broken lamp, and me. The way his mouth dropped open made me feel sick. It was probably one of the most awful moments of my life, and I wanted to run. After all, what did it matter at this point if I just disappeared? Ryan clearly knew I was different.

But for some reason, I couldn't make myself move. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't even breathe. In fact, Ryan was the first to come to his senses. He held his hands out and slowly stepped back. "Okay, I'm backing up now." His voice was low and forceful but very soothing, and the distance he put between us helped a great deal. "Take a deep breath," he instructed, "and let's try to stay calm."

Ryan inhaled deeply as if he was coaching himself to breathe and not actually talking to me at all, but I obeyed his orders anyway. I could feel my muscles start to relax when I focused on the sound of his breathing.

As I calmed down, the low hum of the streetlamp faded, and eventually I was able to take that deep breath I desperately needed. It felt good to breathe. It was also easier to settle down now that I could see that Ryan wasn't panicking or anything. I closed my eyes and took several more deep breaths.

"Are you ready to talk to me?" Ryan asked when he was sure that speaking wouldn't set me off again.

I was as ready as I would ever be, so I shrugged my defeat. I headed back to his truck in a bit of a daze, but when I started to climb back into the passenger seat I realized that Ryan was still standing a good ten feet away. He swallowed uneasily, like he didn't want to have to ask me his next question but had no choice.

"Is it safe?"

I was too out of it at the time to get upset about the fact that he was scared of me, so I simply nodded. He got in the truck very slowly, and I noticed him hesitate before he started the car.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to apologize, but I whispered a weak "I'm sorry," to which he didn't respond. Instead, he glanced up at the fried lamppost once more, and then drove us back to his house without saying another word.

"It's just us," he eventually promised when I hesitated to follow him inside.

He couldn't take his eyes off me as I walked in, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I looked everywhere but his face because I didn't want to see the expression on it. I didn't want to see him watching me like he was afraid of me, or like he thought I was some kind of freak that belonged in a cage. A lot of people look at me that way, but I'd gotten used to Ryan looking at me like I'm a person. He usually watches me as if I'm someone he likes, or someone he really cares about. To see all of that taken away because he'd learned the truth would hurt too much.

I stood in the entryway, looking around, surprised by the earthy decor of the house. Even though the place had such a peaceful feeling to it, I som