Manifesting | kotlc

- chapter - eighteen -

I didn't know what to say, and my mouth went dry as I locked eyes with my parents. Not moving her eyes away from me, my mother tilted her head towards my friends. "Girls, we have snacks in the kitchen if you want to try them." Finally she pulled her eyes away from mine to narrow them at my friends. 

My friends received the message and wasted no time jumping off my bed and rushing past my parents in the doorway, no doubt going straight to the snacks ready to gossip. Blythe gave me a worried glance before exiting, and seeing that helped me gain at least a somewhat confidence. I knew that no matter what, my friends would have my back. 

Things stayed silent, and I took the time to study my father. He had always been the quiet parent, never shooting down my mother's ideas and expressions. It was always hard to know what he was thinking, and what his exact opinion on issues were. I knew my mom would take every chance to hate on anyone who isn't talentless, but would my dad? 

Finally my mom spoke up. "We didn't hear much," she told me, answering the unasked question of how much of the conversation before did she overhear. "We walked in when Lyra talked about feeling empowered and I didn't get the chance to make our presence known before you responded." 

I nodded. They didn't know that I was a pyrokinetic. They just knew that I was more than what they previously believed. I didn't want to tell them, despite reaching a point in the conversation where I'd be expected to explain. I was taking deep breaths, and closed my eyes as I thought over Marella's lessons on helping me to control my emotions. For a brief moment I wished she was there to help me explain my situation better than I could. 

I refused to lose control now. 

It stayed silent, mostly because my parents probably assumed I would take this moment to speak up and tell them about my ability. Maybe explain how long, what it was, why they didn't know. During this silence, my mother sent my father a look and moved to sit beside me on my bed. He closed the door, as if it would be a sound barrier my friends would not be able to hear through. I wondered if they were even trying to listen in, or if they really were down in the kitchen, eating the snacks and waiting for me to tell them. 

I licked my lips, which suddenly felt chapped enough. "I want to tell you something." I looked up at my father, who was the one who spoke up. I'd expected it to be my mother. Mom wrapped her arm around me, as if she knew what he was going to say. 

"Okay," I responded simply, curious at what he would have to say. The silent, unspoken parent. Always there in presence, but not much in words. 

"We understand why you didn't want to tell us. We understand why this is uncomfortable. What we don't understand, is why you didn't tell us anyways?" 

"What do you mean?" the words slipped out. 

"We just always assumed that you got our full transparency law in the family. That no matter what, we always tell each other everything. No secrets. Just transparency, no matter how much we might not like it." My mother locked eyes with my father, and the look they shared showed knowledge that I knew I didn't hold. "But, I believe that it's stupid to not understand, when we've not completely followed the rule ourselves." 

"I'm not following," I told them, honestly. 

"We know you're a pyrokinetic," my father said, and my head snapped in his direction. "Well, actually, we didn't. But that reaction confirmed it." 

"How?" I asked. "How would you know that?" 

"You come from a long line of people just like you," my mother explained, her arm still wrapped tightly against me. "Not from my side, I assure you I, along with most of my family, have always been talentless. Your father is a little different."