The Soulmate

Chapter One

Summer was everything, and so was Jack.

Our mothers became instant friends at a pottery class when we were nine, and since that July of 2006, we were inseparable. We lived only a few blocks away, and every other weekend, Jack's mother would come by and bring him over for a play date. They'd talk about adult stuff, while I showed Jack my cap bottle collection, narrating every single fact about rocks I knew. Jack Larson was a quiet kid, didn't say much at first. I didn't care, because I was glad to finally have a friend. Mom was worried when we moved to the new town that I wouldn't have anyone to play with because kids got scared of the red and blue mark that covered my left hand. The mark traveled up my arm, stopping at the tip of my shoulder. It looked like a permanent tattoo, but not the cool kind. My whole life, thus far, has been spent in various assortments of long sleeve t-shirts. Sometimes a cardigan if I was feeling fancy.

"You're special, Ava," mama would say. "This mark only makes you special, okay?"

"Then why do the kids at school say it looks dirty?" I asked. "They said if they touch me,

they'll catch my disease. What's a disease, mama?"

I didn't know it then, but behind my mother's eyes, were guilt. Guilt for her daughter

living with a permanent acidic mark caused by a father now locked up in Minnesota Penitentiary.

Mom never told me the full story about how I got my mark, but as I got older, I stopped wanting

to know. All she said to me when I was a little girl was that "Daddy made a mistake, but he's far

away now...he can't hurt us anymore."

Jack and I sat in the couch by my bedroom window, his little head looking out at the birds resting on the branch just a few feet outside. The sky was as blue as the color of his cotton shirt, a detail I'd never forget. I saw his eyes trace over the moving clouds, and wondered what he was thinking about, and if he'd ever share those thoughts with me. Even as a kid, Jack had thoughtful eyes, as though there were a universe of stories he had to tell but just wasn't ready.

"You're not scared of me too, are you?" my nine year old self asked him.

This time, he looked up at me with the longest lashes I'd ever seen. I chewed the inside of my cheek, staring nervously at him. When I noticed him glance at my mark, I quickly covered my right hand over it.

"Scared of what?" he asked. "That?"

I nodded.

He studied my right hand, just as he'd studied the clouds. His doe eyes widened in shock, as he jumped to his feet, pointing his finger at my hand. I frowned, disappointed, realizing that whatever would happen next would not end well for either of us. I was a good arguer, and planned to defend myself just as mama had taught me when anyone was mean about my mark. I was supposed to say things like, "I'm different, but that's ok!" or "I'm telling the teacher". Sometimes I'd say, "I'm a person, just like you!" And if I was feeling brave, I'd exclaim, "I know you are but what am I," which, in the kid world meant, fuck you.

But when Jack smiled, his green eyes lighting up like the sea, I didn't know what to say.

"You've got a superpower."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your hand...it's all blue and red, just like the hero in my comic book. Both of you can

stop time just by the flick of your hands! Can you...can you show me? Please?"

I smiled back, my two front teeth missing.