Out of Breath

Chapter 11

I bait my fishing hook with some chicken livers. I don't ever want to use Desdemona's miracle bait again. I would use a slump, though, but she is out of them. A limpkin calls out, which sounds like a staccato trumpet.

"Why are you smiling so much?" she asks.

"No reason," I say.

I can't stop thinking about what I did to Clairlion's group. It was Epic! The whole school talked about it for the rest of the day. A lot of kids thought it was voodoo. Clairlion and Towanda called their parents and went home. What babies.

"Hmm. Very interesting," Desdemona responds. I forget she likes to read my mind. Does stopping time work on her?

"No, don't..." she says, but it's too late. I hold my breath, and she has frozen in time. I'll be. It even works on witches.

I hate how Desdemona reads my thoughts. Maybe if I can learn thought control, I can keep a blank mind, and if I ever need to really think about something with her around, I will hold my breath to do it.

I take a breath. "...try." She finishes.

I look at her as I hold my breath again. She has no awareness that I stopped time. I breathe again.

"Okay, I won't do it," I say.

"Thanks."

I hold my breath. It works on witches! She doesn't know I stopped it.

I breathe again.

"How come you never fish?" I ask to change the subject. My lightheadedness makes me almost tip over. This ability to stop time would work better if I weren't asthmatic—stupid asthma.

"I don't know. I guess it is not my thing." Her hands dangle to her side as if they had no life to them.

"Tomorrow, I will bring a pole for you. I think you might like it. To me, it's the greatest thing in the world."

I hold my breath. "Well, actually, stopping time is the greatest thing in the world." I think in a mind she can't access!

I stare at the burning cigar in Terry's yellowed fingers. Ma had forbidden him from smoking in our house, yet, there he sits, puffing away. My lungs tighten up. I can't breathe around tobacco smoke. I have been wheezing for a few minutes now. Ma stares at Terry. Is she going to say anything? Is she going to stick up for me? My chest heaves in and out as I wheeze.

Finally, she opens her mouth. "We don't smoke in the house." She says it softly, without any conviction. Her eyes dart away. She can't even look him in the face.

"'Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.' That is from God's own words recorded in Timothy," Terry says as he blows a smoke ring into Ma's face.

I look to Ma to see if she is going to do anything more. She bows her head. When did she become so weak?

I hold my breath. Time stops. With time stopped, I can be strong. I can be bold.

I yank that blasted cigar out of his hand. My fingers accidentally grab the cherry burning at the end. I quickly drop the cigar, so I don't get burned, but I realize something. There is no transfer of heat from it. Weird.

I re-pick up his cigar and tear it open, spreading the tobacco all over the floor. I would like to do more, but my lungs are still angry from the smoke, and I have to gasp for air, dirty, tainted air.