What do you think?
Rate this book
44 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 27, 2019
It’s like looking at the curve of the sphere throws a switch in her mind, one that wasn’t there before. It’s not as strong as it was the first time around, but when she feels the curvature of the ball with whatever new sense her brain has flipped on with that switch, that feeling of deep satisfaction comes back, and she knows that it wasn’t a momentary thing. It feels like she’s holding that sphere in the palm of an invisible hand, one that’s much more strong and limber and precise than her own.
T.K. laughs with relief. Then she picks up the ball with her mind and flicks it halfway across the court to the basketball rim on the far end. The ball hits the rim and bounces off. Before it can hit the gym floor, she picks it up again without effort, raises it slowly, and dumps it straight through the hoop.
“Holy shit,” she says and laughs again.
She has superpowers. She’s a damn ace.
She skipped right from disabled to too-abled, without getting to spend any time in between at just abled.
“So you basically suck for not telling me about this earlier,” Ellie says over the phone. Ellie has been T.K.’s best friend since kindergarten—their families have been friends since T.K. and Ellie were toddlers—and Ellie is one of the few callers who makes it through the mom-and-dad screening vanguard today.
“I didn’t know until, like, two months ago, I swear,” T.K. says.
“You found out at school?”
“Yeah. In the middle of gym class.”
T.K. gives Ellie the condensed version of the week her card turned, leaving out the part where she accidentally found out that she’s basically a walking weapon of mass destruction now.