Denali in Hiding

August 29

I'm in the waiting area next to Eli's hospital room, propping my feet on the corner radiator so I can write on my knees. The nurses chat, around the corner, down the hall and people swish by in scrubs.

I gave my mom the lone chair in Eli's room. It's like a Spartan lazy boy recliner, but it should still help her get a decently restful night sleep next to Eli. He was shaken up, but not hurt. Not much anyway. "What a miracle!" a nurse exclaimed. "Falling that far and barely a bruise." My mom nodded. She was trying to play the relieved parent even as her mind was weighted with another concern.

Me.

We've feared the day I would be caught. I always thought my skills would spray out uncontrollably. Like with the frog.

I've learned to maintain a calm mind, though. Most mornings and evenings, I sit next to Lake Anna with my legs crossed. My palms on my knees, I take in the smell of the water swirling about me. Everything is peaceful there, nothing seems to matter. It's just me and the water and the wind and the dirt. Even on weekend nights, when boats pass and guys holler to me, beer cans dangling from their fingertips, I can smile. Simple jerks, thinking harassing a teenage girl is going to get them any. They can't penetrate my peace.

That is my communion with myself. That is how I keep control of my mind.

Even so, I've been afraid I might accidentally and dramatically move something with my mind in front of a bunch of people and that they would realize what I did, what I can do. I never thought I'd do it on purpose. I never thought I'd say afterward that I would do it all over again.

But what would I do if I lost Eli? He would never run and jump on my bed while I was writing (more than one of my journal entries has a sharp jagged lightning-like burst of ink across the page from these occurrences). He would never have the droplets of water lingering on his eyelashes after a swim in the lake. Like little sparkles until they evaporated. And he would never make my mom a flower out of Legos for her to hold after a breakup.

I have no regrets.

I need to stop, rewind, and start from the beginning.

We were at the county fair. For the first hour or so I was just bummed David wasn't there yet. (He had baseball practice.) Now I wonder if, instead of looking around for David, I should have spent more time just enjoying hanging out with Eli.

No, I'm a good big sister. I cheated for him.

I saw Eli looking at the pirate Lego set lingering above the milk bottle toss. My mom was fixed on a man with a gap in his teeth who had guessed she was eight years younger and twelve pounds thinner than she was. He had stopped trying to convince everyone else to "step right up." His smile was directed at her as the lights from the Ferris wheel passed over his face. She put her hand on her hip and slanted her head in that way. Her hunting posture.

I had to be quick, before she caught on and tried to stop me. "Come on." I nudged Eli.

"Let's get the one with the pirates," he said as we walked over.

"I will." I handed six dollars to the man working the game.

"Such confidence! You really think you'll be able to knock over ten bottles with just one ball?" He looked to Eli, his eyes hooking prey. "You must have a very talented babysitter."

As most strangers do, he assumed Eli and I weren't related. With my almost milk-colored skin and unenthusiastic, limp hair next to his milk chocolate and fun, fuzzy curls, we hardly look like the siblings we are. "Sister, actually. We share a mom." I bent down to get cheek to cheek with Eli. "See, the eyes? The noses?"