The people here have always thought me peculiar.
Me and my family. A tyrannical, penny-pinching father. A harsh stepmother. And, of course, cold, forbidding spinster sisters.
It’s the rumors about me that make me laugh the hardest. To the people of this fair city, I’m also a kleptomaniac who’s stolen from her own family.
I was only seven when Aunt Toni tried to find her own fountain of youth, so some of the technical details are a little fuzzy. For instance, I can’t remember the name of the anti-aging cream Helena Rubenstein made, but I know that this once-great cosmetics company sold it for big bucks since it was reputed to restore your skin to that of a newborn babe.
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Gramps never did like paying taxes. But that didn’t mean he should abolish the IRS.
“Never have I used the word ‘abolish,’” he protested to Grandma, as he’d done every April for each of the thirteen years I’d lived with them. “But what’s wrong with invisible-izing myself?”
He meant really invisible-izing, as in, all records of his existence…
“Our band of brothers must be the right age,” I told the three men gathered around me in the quiet darkness of my house—dark save for the single candle. We dared not light the lamp on the table between us, nor any lamp at all. “But then, you already know the truth of this.”
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You wouldn’t forget the date of your dad’s death any more than you’d forget your own.
January 3, 1962. The worst day of my life. And only two months later, we’re going to Disneyland.
“Swell way to mourn,” I muttered.
Mom flinched like I’d punched her in the gut, but it was my kid sister Susie…
I admit I screamed the words: “If there ever was a time to speak up when the minister says that bit about why this couple shouldn’t be joined together in holy matrimony, it was to tell him you’d turn into a rat on our honeymoon!”
“I thought that was just for the people
When I was a kid, teleworking and remote learning didn’t exist. If the snow fell hard and fierce, we got a snow day. Meaning, no work for the grown-ups, no school for the kids. Heavenly bliss! That’s why, in 1983, I caused one of the biggest blizzards in New York City history.
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“I got nothing.”
My grin was snarky because I meant that both ways: what you say when you have absolutely nothing to add to a conversation. And literally. Because I had no re-memory.
My Eternal Counselor, Mirah, looked distressed. “Please, Ms. Iandolo…”
“Ronni,” I corrected. “Since we’ll be here a while, might as well be
Detachment of limbs is a superpower.
Really. Being able to pop off your legs or hands and send them to do heroic things while your body stays safely behind can be… handy.
Of course, I attach limbs. No one considers that a superpower, just like absolutely no one considers me a hero. Besides,
“If it bugs you so much,” I said, “why you don’t just levitate my stuff back to its proper place?”
“Because,” Steven shouted, “I actually use my powers for good. I don’t levitate things to clean up your messes, you—”
Expletive deleted.
Yeah, I often provoke that sort of reaction from my
What human being, given the Gift of flight, would wish he had another one?
You’re looking at him. Er, reading about him.
Does that even make sense? Zoiks. I’m as clumsy with words as I am with people. And I’m clumsier with flight.
I hate heights. I hate speed. I hate the breathlessness
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