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doorway, each holding a glowing cigarette between their fingers. I wondered if it was a conspiracy to stink up my room.
    With only the dim light from my TV barely reaching their faces, they could almost pass for teenagers. They insisted that their vegetarian diet and jogging every night kept them young. Except they smoked. Go figure.
    “Did you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.
    I muted the TV. “Is it going to change anything?” I fired back.
    He shook his head. “We’ve made our decision.”
    Exactly. They’d still haul me from city to city and they weren’t going to give me a pardon on the debt or unground me.
    “Then I have nothing to say.” I switched the sound back on and turned to the TV.
    Mom peeked past Dad’s shoulder, her amber eyes narrowing just before closing the door.
    Damn them.
    Restless, I jumped off the bed and opened the window for some fresh air. I looked past the neighbor’s parted curtains to their ghastly, paisley-patterned paper, which I hadn’t been able to see yesterday.
    Yep, even my vision was better.
    Maybe my improved senses were stress-related. Like the way moms were capable of great strength to save their child. If I did away with the stress, maybe my body would start metabolizing normally again. Maybe that’s all there was to it.
    After my shower, I threw on some pajamas, then went in search of dessert. Maybe after getting some chocolate in my system, I’d feel normal.
    A lot of chocolate.
    “We’re leaving for our run, sweetheart,” my dad said as I descended the stairs. “We’ll be gone an hour or so. You’ll be okay while we’re out?”
    I blew out a breath, slipping in a groan for their benefit. “I think I can handle being home alone for an hour. Maybe one day, when I’m thirty or forty, you can leave me alone all day .”
    Dad laughed, my irritation soaring over his head. Mom gave me a scolding look before following him out the front door.
    On the way to the fridge, I shook out my arms to relax. An unfamiliar energy, like a power surge, centered in my chest and spread out. My pulse hammered. What the hell was that? Panic crept up on me. Maybe I had a brain aneurysm or something.
    As my breathing calmed and the tingles faded, I could almost believe I was okay and that most likely it was just my crappy day that had taken its toll. Yeah, that’s all there was to it.
    Grabbing a juice bottle from the fridge, I held it in one hand and twisted off the cap with the other. The bottle burst and liquid sprayed. I winced as shards of glass sliced through my palm and blood flowed down to my fingertips, blending with the spilled juice.
    My heart pounded. I sucked in a few long breaths which seemed to dull the pain. With trembling hands, I threw the glass shards in the garbage, then ran water over my palm to survey the damage. The cool stream soothed my frayed nerves and washed the blood down the drain.
    How had I shattered the bottle with my bare hands? Defective bottle? It had to be. I couldn’t imagine the amount of strength it would take to crush a glass bottle.
    Strangely, all the pain had faded, even though it had only been a matter of seconds since I’d broken the bottle. Flipping my hands over and back again, I couldn’t find the source of the blood. How was that possible? Blood would’ve required an opening to pass through. And yet, no such opening existed.
    No avoiding it now. Something was definitely up.
    A logical explanation had to exist somewhere, but I had no idea where to start. The last place I’d go for information was my parents. The way they worried about me, I’d probably find myself in the hospital. Next thing you know, I’d be the subject of some weird experiment.

 
CHAPTER FOUR
    I’d fallen asleep at my laptop last night, surfing the Internet for anything on powers or accelerated healing. The Marvel comic sites told me about superheroes with special abilities. But I already knew I wasn’t a superhero. I needed to know why it was happening.