Which also means we can’t leave. I’m stuck here, with Rey. And the hogs. And a forest full of deadly snakes and spiders and God knows what else.

I dig little ditches in the beach with my heels and sink my toes into the soft earth, cooling them down, and stare at the two scars on my ankle. I know Rey’s right. If the Mogs showed up I’d be defenseless. I’d have to rely on him to fight for me. I’m a failed Garde with a frail Cêpan. Again, I can’t help but think that Lorien has cheated me in all this. Surely this wasn’t how the Elders had meant everything to be.

In the pocket of my shorts, I find a little red rubber ball I’ve had for ages—the kind you get for a quarter in convenience store toy machines. I let it roll over the back of my hand, across my knuckles, then between my fingers, over and over again. A little sleight-of-hand craftiness.

I shouldn’t be here. The thought floats through my head again. I glance over at the little sailboat that’s tied to a post up the beach. It would be so easy to just get in, cast off, and float to the nearest civilization. Martinique isn’t far away, if I remember correctly. They have restaurants and hot showers and carnivals there. Street fairs packed with games and every type of food you could ever want. Not that far away.

It would be so easy.

I stare at the coconut as I grow more and more frustrated with the state of my life. My right hand curls into a fist at my side, shaking.

A jolt of energy rushes through me—something I’ve never felt before. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The coconut explodes.

For a second I’m stunned, then I just stare at my hands.

Did I just do that?

CHAPTER THREE

THERE’S A NAME FOR THE POWER I HAVE: TELEKINESIS. It’s the first of my Legacies—my special gifts. I know this because Rey has told me for years that this day would come. I’d almost stopped believing him, but they’re here now. I can feel the energy coursing through my veins.

I can feel the power. It feels good.

With just one exploded piece of fruit I suddenly have a newfound outlook on life. I see a future that doesn’t include this island. If I can move things with my mind, I can wipe out enemies—knock down entire armies. People will look up to me. Maybe even fear me. And Rey—he’ll never look at me like I’ve disappointed him again. He’ll know he hasn’t failed me as a Cêpan.

I don’t tell him about the coconut, or my newfound ability. I keep it a secret, practicing with it in my free time. I’m going to get good at it, and then show him how capable I am by pulling a tree out of the ground and batting away our little shack. Or something. Something big to prove to him that we no longer need to be on the island. That I’m ready to get out of here and back into the real world, because I’ll be able to fight the Mogs if they show up now. I’m so tired of this damned sun and humidity. This island. I’ll show him. He’ll take us somewhere else.

I start out with coconuts. They’re light and easy to crack, and I rip them apart with my power. I let the small green ones float above my mouth and drink the sweet-tasting water from inside. Then I slingshot them into the ocean, where they fly through the air and blend in with the sky before splashing down into the salty water on the horizon.

The only problem is that Rey is being better at making sure I actually am running all the miles I’m supposed to. He’s started popping up at random places around the island, stopwatch in hand, making sure I’m jogging—or at least walking really quickly. Fortunately that seems to take a lot of energy out of him, because he spends the rest of the day napping.

Perfect time for me to hone my badass new superpower.

I move on from coconuts to rocks and fallen logs. On the end of the island opposite our shack, I haul in a huge piece of driftwood against the tide with nothing more than force of will. The larger, heavier objects are a little harder to maneuver at first, but I’m getting better at it. Building my telekinetic muscles. This is the best I’ve felt in months.

On the day I’ve decided to tell Rey about my powers, thick black clouds start to roll in from the sea. I recognize what this means: The wet season is approaching, and it’s going to be nothing but rain for the next few months. I stop halfway through my morning jog and practice my power just a little more. I find a log on the ground and toss coconuts into the air, trying to bat them into the sea like some giant’s version of baseball. I don’t know how long I stand there trying before I actually make contact with one of the coconuts. It’s not the home run I’ve been imagining—both the coconut and the dead branch shatter, sending bits of wood and coconut milk raining down on me—but the destruction is incredibly satisfying.

It’s only then that I realize the sun is higher in the sky than I expected, and I wonder how long I’ve been standing there. My face is sunburned—I can feel it stinging as I head back to the hut. My stomach rumbles. I hope Rey’s made lunch already.

I see his white hair first. It’s practically shimmering in the sunlight. He’s facedown in the sand, just around the next curve in the shore.

My heart stops.

I yell his name as I run to him, over and over until my throat burns. No, I think as I run. And shit. Those two words repeat in my head as I get closer, trying to figure out how he got there and if he’s moving at all.

I practically slide into him in the sand, kicking up a little cloud around us. I roll him over. Grit and sand stick to one side of his face.