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the green pine trees soothe me until my hands stopped shaking. Cool air from the open window dried the sweat on the back of my collar. “It’ll be okay,” I told myself. “You will not set yourself on fire and die a horrible death. And you will not set anyone else on fire. Probably.”
    As a cheerleader, I clearly needed work.
    I was halfway home when a loud pop tore through the van. I yelled, thinking it was a gunshot, thinking that government agency had already found me. Apparently I wasn’t quite as calm as I thought.
    The steering wheel jerked in my hands, wheels wobbling on the road. I fought for control as a series of sick-sounding thuds rattled through the van. It was rhythmic, centered on the left side. I slowed down, struggling to keep from going off into the ditch. I finally got the van to a stop and lowered my head shakily to the steering wheel. Not a secret society or a government operative. Just a flat tire.
    “Idiot.” I laughed at myself, to prove I could. I climbed out, waving the dust of the road out of my face. It billowed in clouds as the gravel crunched under my boots. I went around to the front and saw the flat tire, looking pathetic and useless. I kicked it. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
    I checked the back for a spare tire but there was none, which didn’t matter anyway, since I had no idea how to change it. There was no one around; it was me and the crows cawing in the woods and Sara’s pink baskets filled with cupcakes and pastries. I was supposed to deliver them after classes, but I’d forgotten in my hurry to get the hell off school grounds.
    Before I could pull out my cell phone, a car came speeding down the road toward me. You know what was worse than no one around for miles?
    Ethan Blackwood right there in front of me.
    Worst. Day. Ever.
    He stepped out of his convertible. His tie was loosened and his pants weren’t the standard-issue polyester uniform pants. They actually looked good on him. The wind teased his hair, as if he were on a photo shoot. God, even the air loved him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
    “I’m free after morning classes on Monday,” he said. “What’s your excuse?”
    I didn’t answer him. “Know how to fix a flat tire?” I asked instead.
    “No.”
    “Figures.”
    He raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Do you?”
    He had a point. “Well, no.”
    He crouched down to take a closer look. “This isn’t an ordinary leak,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    He yanked a nail out of the rubber. “Someone did this on purpose. It’s too straight to be just off the road.”
    Justine must have run out into the parking lot and jabbed my tire while I was freaking out in the empty classroom. Who else would have bothered to vandalize my car? I clenched my fists as sparks shot from between my fingers. I squeaked and shoved them behind my back before Ethan could see. God only knew what he would think if he knew what I could do. He’d tell his dad, and his dad would tell Abby. There would be therapist appointments, because no one would believe me. And if they did believe me, it would only be worse. Special powers were dangerous.
    He stood up, squinting into the sun behind me. “Are you okay?”
    “Um, yeah. Fine.” I tried to smile, praying that it didn’t look like smoke was coming out of my ass. Bad enough that the road dust clung to my damp hair.
    “Well, hop in,” he said, getting back into his convertible. “My dad’ll send someone to pick up the van.”
    “I should probably stay here,” I said, rubbing my hands together behind my back, trying to smother the fire. Sparks landed on the gravel. I scuffed dirt over them. “Or I can walk back or something.” Why wouldn’t he just go away? I wondered if I should stick my hands in my pockets, then wondered if I’d end up setting my jacket on fire. I started to walk, hoping he’d take the hint. He started his car, but he only rolled along beside me.
    “You can’t walk all the way home,” he