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“What could you do?” The woman laughs lightly. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re one of those girls who thinks there’s a way out, aren’t you? That something will come along and make everything better.” She sighs and shakes her head like she’s angry. “I wish there were. I swear I do. I wish I could tell you to run, to hide, but it would never work.” Her voice is so low I have to lean in close to understand. “Nothing can be done. Not a damn thing.”
“You have a gift.” “Please.” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to be special or have a gift or anything of the sort. Some people think they are chosen, destined to be great, and do you know what happens while they are basking in the possibility of their own greatness?” “I don’t know,” I say. She narrows her eyes at me. “What happens is that someone with no particular preordained purpose puts their head down, works hard, and makes something happen out of sheer will. That’s where we fall.”