Page 20 of Ordinary Secrets

When you feel you don’t belong,

hug this bear and sing this song.

Look to the sky when you feel down.

Know that things will turn around.

Work twice as hard to the finish line.

Now it’s your time to shine.

Mama kisses my forehead. “I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

Daddy’s footsteps thump down the hall, stopping outside my bedroom door. “It’s time to go.”

Mama doesn’t move. She keeps running her hands through my hair.

“Suzie...” Daddy says as his tense feelings rush through my mind.

I think of earlier that day when my parents made my favorite pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. I turned my entire plate into a tower of white fluff. Mama and Daddy couldn’t even tell there were pancakes underneath. I think about how happy I felt while eating it. Any cheerful thought will work as long as I think about it hard enough, then push it into Mama’s head.

She smiles, squeezing my hand. “Thank you, but you know I don’t like it when you do that.”

“I just want you to be happy,” I say as she pushes off the carpet.

I slide out of her lap and look up at her. She wipes more tears off her face, and it makes me want to push more happiness into her.

Daddy always says there isn’t a point to having powers if we don’t use them. Mama always says it’s okay to use my powers as long as I don’t hurt anyone.Does making people happy hurt them?

“Listen to me, son.” Daddy kneels at my side and points at the clock hanging on my wall. “You see that shorter arrow pointing at the nine?”

I already know how to tell time. The clock says it’s nine thirty-six.

“When that short arrow reaches the twelve, if Mama and I aren’t back yet, run to one of the neighbors’ houses, okay? And take Andy with you.”

“What time will you be back if you’re not home by midnight?”

Daddy swallows, looks up at Mama, then back at me. “If you get hungry, there are some leftovers in the fridge.” He stands and pats my shoulder. “Be a good boy now.”

Something bad is happening. I know it. I canfeelit. Maybe if I cry and tell them I don’t want them to go to work, they’ll stay.

No. They’ll still go. They always do. Besides, I’m seven now. Seven-year-olds don’t cry.

“Goodbye, honey.” Mama leans down to kiss my forehead.

“Wait. You said to never say goodbye. Goodbye means forever.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I meant bye for now.”

Outside the living room window, my parents run through the rain, get into their car, and drive away into the darkness. I drag my feet back to my room and slump over my bed, waiting for the short arrow to tick away from the nine.

Usually whenever my parents get called in to work, Aunt Debbie comes over to watch me. Earlier, Mama told me that Aunt Debbie couldn’t come. Mama asked if I could stay home by myself. I told her that I’m old enough. Besides, I’ve stayed home by myself before. Most of the time, it’s only for a few minutes while my parents run to the store.

Vroom!Every time I hear a car, I rush back to the living room window. The cars never stop, and there have been at least six cars now.

When the short arrow points at the ten, water pours onto the house. It’s so loud, it sounds like all the kids at my school are stomping on the roof. To try to block out the noise, I point at the TV. It turns on with a bright screen that hurts my eyes for a second. Once my eyes are clear again, I sit in my spot on the couch. I always get the middle cushion because I like to be right between Mama and Daddy.

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