Powers

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“Don’t talk about it,” Sallo tells me.

“But what if it’s going to happen? Like when I saw the snow?”

“That’s why not to talk about it.”

My sister puts her arm around me and rocks us sideways, left and right, as we sit on the schoolroom bench. The warmth and the hug and the rocking ease my mind and I rock back against Sallo, bumping her a little. But I can’t keep from remembering what I saw, the dreadful excitement of it, and pretty soon I burst out, “But I ought to tell them! It was an invasion! They could warn the soldiers to be ready!”

“And they’d say—when?”

That stumps me. “Well, just ready.”

“But what if it doesn’t happen for a long time? They’d be angry at you for giving a false alarm. And then if an army did invade the city, they’d want to know how you knew.”

“I’d tell them I remembered it!”

“No,” Sallo says. “Don’t ever tell them about remembering the way you do. They’ll say you have a power. And they don’t like people to have powers.”

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