Secret

Chapter One

I am not a normal girl. A normal girl is someone that has picnics on the roof of their house, not jump off of it. A normal girl is someone that laughs on the ground, not in the air. A normal girl doesn't fly.

My parents don't really think that my ability is good. They can't fly, so it's really weird that I can. When I grow up, I want to be a scientist that helps discover kids like me. It's not that my parents are bad or anything, they just want what's best for me. I guess what's "best for me" in their opinion is the one event that seems to dictate my life.

I was six when it happened with Lindy, my best friend at the time, at the park. She made me laugh and up I went. I didn't go too high, maybe five at the most, but that was enough to get Lindy screaming and her parents take her away. I haven't seen her since, and once Mom and Dad heard of what happened, they locked me away in my own house, and continue to remind me that I can't fly in public.

I'm not bad at flying. In fact, for the past four years, I've been practicing and have gotten pretty good. I started when I was eight, and would get myself energized and would focus on reaching the sky. It was hard, but by the time I was nine, I could get myself up and down easily. I still couldn't get above twenty feet, though. That was when I started trying to fly. I would put my arms out like people did in movies and would try to propel myself forward, but I went nowhere. Then I taught myself how to take up all the air and push it behind me, and before I knew it, I was flying.

It wasn't really flying, though, since I wasn't high up, and that was my problem. By then, the whole neighborhood shut their doors to me - they were all scared for no reason, a "child sent from the devils themselves," they call me, and Mom and Dad agree - and I was no longer allowed to practice. So I started doing it at night.

Still, it was hard, and by the time I was ten, I started jumping off the roof.

I needed to do it; it was the only way I could get high enough. The first time, I was really shaky and scared. But then I thought, If you don't do it know, you never will and I jumped off. I started falling for a second, but then I launched myself up high into the air. It felt amazing, as if I was on top of the world, which I practically was. I could see everything.

After that, I went up there every night. It was so incredible, I just couldn't stop. By the time I turned twelve, I could make swirls and do tricks in the air. It was hard, though, to keep it from my parents. I wanted so badly to tell them about my progress, but I couldn't. So I didn't.

If I had any other parents in the world, I would probably be able to fly to my heart's delight. Of course, Mom and Dad will do anything to get me to be like a normal child, although I think keeping me inside the house all the time is not normal.

Finally, I reach the driveway to my house. During this morning jog, I became drenched and got mud sprayed all over my ankles accidentally from the puddles last night's storm caused. I toss my running shoes to the side on the porch and make my way to my shower. It's sort of annoying since I took a shower before my jog for once and now I have to take another one an hour later.

Before I even reach the hallway to my room, Mom calls, "Cassidy! Come in here! I need to talk to you!"

I sigh and drag myself to the kitchen, but the moment I walk in, I realize something's up. Mom is fidgeting, something she rarely does, and Dad's eyes keep darting everywhere, a habit of his that shows his worry. While Mom easily gets agonized, Dad doesn't, so if he's worried, then something must be wrong.

"Hey," I say slowly. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Not much-" Dad starts.

"Actually, there is," Mom interrupts. Unlike Dad, who likes to ignore his problems and anything troubling him except for me, Mom knows that if you just get something over and done with, then it will be done, which is one of the few things I agree with when it comes to her.

"What is it?" I ask.

Mom looks over at Dad, but he immediately looks away, and pretends that he didn't see Mom, although he's really bad at hiding things. She looks back at me. "There's a woman that want to talk to you." I don't get how that got them so stressed out.

"And?"

"And," Mom continues. "We don't know her and are wondering if you do."

"Like I know anybody these days," I reply, and roll my eyes for effect.

"That's what I thought," she says. "Anyways, we'd like for you to go talk to her."

I look down and up at myself. My used-to-be neon yellow Nike sweatshirt is now an ugly yellow mixed with dirt, and my black running shorts are somehow darker with disgusting mud. "Like this? Can't I at least get cleaned up first? I'm kind of uncomfortable. Correction: I'm really uncomfortable." It's true, too. I'm freezing and just want to get in a warm shower.

Mom considers it. "Just dry yourself off and toss on some new clothes. I don't get why you run in a sweatshirt anyways, it isn't cold at all." I shrug, not too sure either.

"Wait, is she standing in the doorway?"

"Yes."

"You're letting a stranger have free access to our house?"

"She's a nice woman."

"Says the one that is so worried about my safety."

"She isn't going to kill you."

"Do you know her name?"

"No, but she'll tell you. Just go talk to her."

"I'm not talking to some stranger!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't feel comfortable!"

"It'll be fine."

And that ends our conversation, but I can't believe she wants me to talk to some woman that might easily be robbing us and she isn't the least worried. I, Cassidy Emma Woods, am worried about something my mother isn't. Something is definitely wrong.

I start to head over to change, but once again, Mom stops me.

"You promise to talk to her?" she asks.

"Well..." My voice drifts off.

"You aren't leaving until you say yes," Mom says.

Of course. But being drenched isn't exactly the best feeling and right now, I'll do anything to get out of my sagging clothes, so I sigh and agree, and she lets me go as I hurry and throw on a new t-shirt and a clean pair of shorts, but a little voice inside of me keeps telling me about a big fault.

I may have just made the biggest mistake of my life by agreeing to talking to the woman.