The Gift Read Online Free PDF

get you."
    August cast his eyes around the room, unsure. No one was around. But what if someone came in? Did he have anything to lose other than some soggy clothes? Would they get in trouble? He hovered at the edge of the pool, gingerly testing the water with his foot. "Don't pull me in, okay?"
    Doren laughed and before August realized what Doren was doing, he'd grabbed the ankle he'd been threatening and gave a good, solid tug. There was no recovering from it. Attempting grace, failing miserably, August tried to twist into a dive but managed no more than shutting eyes and mouth before he was struggling back to the surface, breaking clear with an angry sputter.
    "Don't tell me what to do," Doren said, his voice low and amused. Then he was gone, twisting like a fish and disappearing into the foggy water.
    As much as August was ready to kill, he had to admit it was a pretty cool sensation: the warm water, buoyant from the salt, seeming to whisper at him to drop back down into the brine and enjoy the heat, to dip into the swirling mass over the surface. It was a lure August chose not to resist. Doren was floating again with his eyes closed and a lazy smile lifting the corners of his mouth and August followed suit, sighing as quietly as he could manage, lying back and relaxing sleepily in the womb-like aura.
    The room was silent but for the echoed swish of moving water and the constant drip of resettling droplets until Doren began to hum: a soft, murmuring chord that filled the room and echoed against the walls, bouncing back to weave together with the new tones coming again. August thought he could place it and yet, when he tried, it seemed to slip away from him. It was like one of those songs from way back in childhood, or in a dream somewhere along the way, but that he hadn't heard for a long, long time since. He listened for a moment, letting the notes sink their way into the depths of his memory before curiosity got the better of him. "What is that? What are you singing?"
    "You don't know it?"
    The much cooler air pricked August's skin with exhilarating goose bumps while the warm, light water teased around the rest of his body. It was an odd, not entirely pleasant, not entirely negative, sensation. "No. Maybe. It's familiar. Tell me?"
    Without opening his eyes, Doren reached for August, his hand trailing through the water, searching, waving, but August didn't let Doren make contact. "Would you believe me if I told you?"
    It seemed as though the sounds of the room had faded into one note: a dreamy, pick-you-up-and-take-you-away kind of chord. It had to be the pool, the weird, floaty feeling of the salt-water and the strange warm-yet-cold sensation of the pool versus the air. Because August was starting to feel a little disconnected from the floor underneath him and more than a bit lightheaded. "Of course, why wouldn't I believe you?"
    Doren opened his eyes, caught August's gaze and held it. "It's the water, Auggie. This is the music that the water makes. Listen close, maybe you can hear it." He started to hum again and the music slipped around them, as if in time with the swirling water. When Doren spoke again his voice was quiet. "You remember, right? When you were a kid? You'd slide under the water in the tub and listen to that soft thrum, thrum, thrum. And the way the water sounded when it moved: that shish, swish, shish. Can you hear it, Aug?"
    And damned but if his memory wasn't tingling with the all but forgotten feeling of it.
    "Give me your hand," Doren murmured. "Give me your hand and I'll show you."
    August wasn't sure if he reached consciously for Doren. Truthfully, he was almost sure he didn't. It was like something inside him reached out instead. Their fingers touched and a small flash of electricity pulsed through August's blood. And then the softest sound he had ever tried to define slipped into his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to find it, trying to hear it. No, August decided, it wasn't there at all. He'd