She started to read over the scene she had just written.
The first time Ing realized that Ambivalents were once considered the normal ones was when she was at Thorn’s shop and found a box of old comics in a broken refrigerator. Since most of Thorn’s regular customers couldn’t read, he’d given the beat-up cardboard box with its treasure trove of stories about heroes like Batman, Thor, and Iron Man to her. She’d carted it home to her apartment on the twentieth floor of the building with the blue door, on the corner of Memorial and Twentieth.
She’d read through all the stories, using a flashlight and batteries she’d gotten from Thorn two years ago, to comb over them even after the power went out for curfew. Afterward, she stuck the covers of her favorites up on the wall of her tiny, squarish room.
In all the comics, it struck her that the people with abilities weren’t the ones who were normal in the stories. They were sometimes even feared because they were different. And all the citizens of Earth who were “normal,” the ones who populated the cities that the heroes saved, didn’t seem to have powers. They seemed Ambivalent, like her.
Brennan’s phone vibrated and she lost her place in her document.
Hey.
Jonas. Brennan couldn’t think of anyone else it would be anyway; she could list the people who texted her on one hand (her mom, her dad, her brother, Emma, and her grandma).
Hi, she sent, ignoring the fact that his text had set her stomach on edge. What are you doing?
Being bored, he typed back. I don’t have Wi-Fi right now, and my parents think we can survive on three gigs of data a month between five people. So anything online is out.
Where are you that doesn’t have Wi-Fi?
The doctor’s office, Jonas said after a while. And they do have Wi-Fi, but you need a password, and I didn’t really fancy asking the receptionist for it.
You sound like me. I hate places where you have to ask for the password.
Talking. Ugh, am I right?
Brennan smiled slightly. Why are you at the doctor’s office? We didn’t hurt your leg by walking, did we?
No, leg is fine. This is a different doctor, not my orthopedic surgeon. It’s just for a physical. You know, the annoying ones you have to get every year before you go off to school.
After a moment, he sent another message. So. About Harry Potter?
Yes? Brennan held her breath, somehow anxious to know what he had thought about the first book in her favorite series. She didn’t know why, but it really mattered to her what he thought. It always mattered to her what people thought of the things she liked, but for some reason, this mattered more—like Jonas’s opinion mattered more.
I concede defeat. Brennan liked when he talked like that—when he used words any other person might not use in a mere text. Maybe it was stupid of her. It was good. Finished it just a few minutes ago. Which is why I’m texting you; I no longer had anything to do but sit and stare at my feet, of which I’m short one. So, as you can imagine, that got boring pretty quickly.
So you’re going to get the second book then?
Yes.
And then: A resounding yes. Right after this appointment.
He didn’t say anything after that, and Brennan wondered if he was waiting for her to say something. Finally, he sent her another message.
I was kind of wondering if you wanted to meet me at your house again and, you know … She liked that he used ellipses in texting. It reminded her of herself. She loved ellipses. They were like the equivalent of the breaths between phrases when you were talking in real life.
Walk? she asked, as if she didn’t know. She could picture him rolling his eyes. It made her fight a stupid grin.
Yes, that.
She really grinned then. Of course. Tomorrow? Same time? 1432 N. Winchester.
Tomorrow, he agreed, not even questioning the new address. Maybe he trusted her.
And then, I hate the doctor’s office. It always takes them so long to call me back.
And, in quick succession: What are you doing right now?
I was writing, but you sort of put a stop to that.
Writing? Like … stories? Or to-do lists? There were those ellipses again. She almost wanted to tell him how much she liked them.
Stories, she said.
About what?
She should have known he’d ask that. You can’t tell him, anxiety argued. You can’t tell him, because he’ll think it’s weird. Or he’ll say it doesn’t sound good.
About … well, it’s a book I’ve been thinking about for a long time. You know like … extroverts and introverts?
Yes.
Well, one day I just had this idea of extroverts having physical powers. Like strength or superspeed. The introverts would have mind powers, like mind reading and telekinesis. I’ve moved away from personality types though. They’re Intros and Extros. That’s just how I came up with the idea. Anyway, I know it’s kind of a weird idea, but that’s what I’ve been working on for a while now.
No, typed back Jonas. Then, I don’t think it’s weird. I think it sounds cool. Tell me more.
And she wanted to, for the first time. The main character, Ingrid Wei, is an Ambivalent. In the story, it means that she doesn’t have any powers. But Ambivalents are suppressed by the government—the Superioris. So Ing has pretended to be an Intro for her entire life. And now she’s reached the age where she has to put her name in for the government’s Santos Game … sorry, it probably sounds silly. She wondered if he thought it sounded weird. In her head, it was great, the stuff of literary prizes. But outside of her head—in the open—it was like a freaking kindergartener’s attempt at putting words on paper.
I promise I don’t think it sounds silly, Jonas’s reply interrupted her thoughts.
It’s okay if you do. Sometimes I think even my parents do. They have this kind of smile-and-nod-and-pretend-to-be-supportive face that they get when I talk about it.
I really don’t. I think it’s cool. That you write.
You do? You actually do, and you’re not lying to me?
Do I strike you as the type of person to lie?
Well, you did sort of lie to me the first few times we met. You know, I went around thinking you were a normal person with two good legs, but here you are, with one and a half.
That was a low blow.
Brennan’s smile faded. Oh no, she thought. She quickly typed a response. I didn’t mean it that way, she said. I only meant to joke about the fact that you did lie to me the first few times we met.
Calm down, he replied. I wasn’t being serious. I knew what you meant.
Like she was supposed to know that—to read between the electronic words and somehow gauge what Jonas was thinking when he typed them. She had a hard time telling when he was being serious or when he was just kidding; his dry sense of humor and sarcasm confused her. He confused her. At that moment, she was terribly conscious of the great space between their brains—the totally-differentness of her and Jonas.
Brennan?
Brennan shook her head, clearing it. Yeah?
You all right? I really wasn’t upset.
Yeah, she said. I didn’t think you were.
15
brennan
1432 North Winchester was a Walmart.
Brennan tried to tell her brain, which was currently telling her stomach that it should be sick and that the world was somehow ending, to shut up.