I always had to keep in
mind the rules Kurt and Felicity and I had made up to protect our talents or powers
or whatever let us do what we did. Hide what we did, hide what we were, hide from
trouble. There was no telling when the weirdness factor of Neighborlee would fail
us, and those people who spied on the children’s home would return, notice us, and
make us vanish.
So it was good that Sylvia
didn't catch me kinda-sorta flying.
"Am I supposed to
ask what you were thinking?" I asked, after we stood there for a few minutes
in silence.
Sylvia was the one Grandstone
who had learned some patience. Where just staring down her cousins, Reggie and Freddie
would get them to mouth off and get themselves in trouble, silence didn't get under
Sylvia's skin. She could stand there and smirk, or give indications of the mental
gymnastics she was going through, and wait for someone else to talk.
The smart tactic was to
take control of the pseudo-conversation when Sylvia was involved. Besides, the more
time she had to think, the better the chances she would twist the situation around
entirely in her favor. For instance, if I made her stand there long enough, by the
time an argument arose and she started screaming, she would have convinced herself
that I had tricked her into staying behind after the Q&A. Since I had survived
ten years of attending school with her, the odds were good that I could predict
what she would say and do, and even how she thought. If the mental gyrations in
the gray matter of a Grandstone brain could be called "thinking."
"Just how long did
you think you could keep that secret?" She adjusted her stance so the other
hip was cocked out and she leaned against the other side of the door.
"Uh, it's a secret
to me, I guess."
That got one of her trademark
squeal-snorts. "Your parents."
"It's no secret that
I have parents."
I fully expected her to
harangue me with the fact that I was one of the Lost Kids of Neighborlee. Former
resident of Neighborlee Children's Home. A reject. A throwaway. Sloppy seconds.
"They're famous!"
Sylvia came out of the doorway, jamming her fists into her hips. "Your parents
are big-time, famous writers! How long did you think you could hide it? Some people!"
Another squeal, with only a touch of snort.
"Uh, I never tried
to hide it."
What I tried to hide was
my grin. Until that first booksigning where people were lined up halfway around
the block, it never really registered that my parents with twenty books to their
names were indeed popular writers. People paid good money and waited eagerly for
first editions in hardback.
"I can't believe
I never made the connection." Sylvia tipped her head to one side, letting her
hair fall in her face. "I mean, yeah, they're the weird, hippie Zephyrs, but
they're famous. They've got about a gazillion books that people buy. You
are rich."
Uh huh. So that was her
problem. Nobody in town was allowed to be rich other than the Grandstones.
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