The Power Within (12 page)

After Darren blacked out he spent a long time in a fuzzy haze, trying to get a grasp on what was going on around him. Slowly the world came into focus, but it wasn't the scene he was expecting.

“Merry Christmas!”

Darren had just opened his eyes when—
thwoomp
—Ray whacked him in the head with a pillow and started laughing hysterically.

“Aw, come on,” Darren groaned, but he'd barely gotten the words out before Ray thwoomped him again.

“Get up, lazybones!” Ray bellowed. “It's Christmas!”

Darren sat up in bed and looked around him. Hadn't
he just been doing something? It had seemed so important a minute ago, but now . . .

Ray's pillow came sailing through the air again, but this time, Darren was ready. He expertly blocked it and then hit Ray with his own pillow.

“Last one downstairs has to eat
all
of Grandma's fruitcake!” Darren shouted, dodging around Ray to get a head start. He reached the stairs first, but Ray was right behind him, yanking on the sash of Darren's bathrobe, until they were thundering down the steps side by side, sounding like a herd of wild elephants.

“Hey, guys, careful on the stairs!” Mom called out, but Darren could see from the grin on her face that she was as excited as he and Ray were.

Then Darren saw the Christmas tree, and it stopped him in his tracks. “Whoa,” he said breathlessly.

“Whoa,” Ray repeated.

The presents . . . It was like a tidal wave of gifts, spilling out from under the tree until they reached halfway across the living room floor. Darren and Ray dove in immediately in a flurry of flying ribbons and ripped wrapping paper.

“What? You're not going to wait for your old man?” Dad joked as he entered from the kitchen. The tray in his hands was laden with four steaming mugs of hot chocolate, each topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. There was a platter of gingerbread cookies, too—all the little gingerbread people that Darren and Ray had decorated the night before, until a frosting-and-candy fight had erupted that was even more fun than cookie decorating.

Darren grinned at Dad as he abandoned the pile of presents. “Merry Christmas, Dad,” he said as he bounded over to his father. Eating cookies for breakfast on Christmas morning was one of Darren's favorite family traditions.

“Merry Christmas, son,” Dad replied as he leaned over to kiss the top of Darren's head. “You know I'm just kidding around. You go ahead and get back to those gifts!”

But Darren hesitated. There was something in his bathrobe pocket, something he'd carefully wrapped and placed there last night, all in anticipation of this moment. Darren waited until Dad had set down the tray
of breakfast treats and joined Mom on the couch. Dad wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Mom and Dad, this is for you,” Darren said as he handed them the present.

It wasn't much—not very big, and definitely not very expensive—but Mom looked delighted to see Darren's gift all the same.

“Oh, honey, this is so nice,” she said, running a finger along the cheery red wrapping paper. “I can't wait to see what's inside!”

Darren held his breath as he waited for his parents to open the present. He'd made the ornament himself, gluing together twigs from the old oak tree in their front yard to form a picture frame. On each corner, Darren had attached an acorn cap. One was labeled “Mom,” one said “Dad,” and then the two on the bottom said “Ray” and “Darren,” of course. Inside the frame was this great picture of the four of them, the one Uncle Howard had taken at homecoming during Ray's sophomore year of high school. Darren had even added a loop of twine so that it could be hung on the Christmas tree.

At first, Mom and Dad didn't say anything; they just exchanged a long, loving look.

“Well, now, that is something special,” Dad finally said.

“Darren, come here and give me a hug,” Mom said, holding out her arms. “This is beautiful! I love it!”

“Thanks,” Darren said. “I made it myself.”

“You
did
?” Mom asked. “Oh, honey, it's perfect!”

Dad took the ornament and walked straight over to the Christmas tree. He did a little careful rearranging of the other ornaments, all of which were family heirlooms, until there was room to hang the one Darren had made, front and center.

“Perfect,” Dad declared, echoing Mom.

Darren's grin grew even wider. There was so much love in that room—love and joy and togetherness . . .

Then it was all shattered by a sudden crash.

Darren spun around wildly, just in time to see a jaguar leap through the picture window, sending millions of shards of glass flying through the air.

Everyone screamed and started to run—Mom and Dad and Ray and Darren—all in different directions, all apart—

How will we find one another again?
Darren worried.

The living room was melting away into mist. . . . Darren kept running. . . . The jaguar was chasing him now, teeth bared, claws flashing.

There was something he was forgetting, Darren was sure of it.
Think,
he told himself.
Remember.

But he just couldn't.

Not that it mattered now. It was a perfect day for the beach—not a cloud in the sky, and a blazing sun that took the chill off the normally cold ocean water. Darren leaned back in his beach chair, closed his eyes, and wiggled his toes in the sand. Maybe in a minute he'd grab his boogie board and hit the waves, see what Ray was up to—

Splash!

As a bucket of cold salt water hit Darren squarely in the face, he realized
exactly
what Ray was up to.

“Got you! Got you! Now, what are you going to do about it?” Ray asked, doing a victory dance on the hot sand.

“You're about to find out!” Darren shot back, grinning at Ray.

“Honey! You need more sunblock!” Mom called out to Darren. “Real quick, before you get in the water.”

Dad waved a shovel in the air. “I could really use some help with this sand castle,” he announced. “Those turrets aren't going to build themselves.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

In rapid succession the jaguar's paws hit the sand, smashing the sand castle into nothingness as it ran across the beach.

Everyone screamed. . . .

Vanished . . .

Remember!
Darren urged himself.

But he couldn't.

And then he was back in the living room, the gray and gloomy living room. Sitting next to Ray by the picture window—miraculously unbroken once more—while Mom and Dad sat as far apart as humanly possible. A heaviness settled over the four of them: the dread of what was coming, the impossibility of avoiding it.

This time no one else seemed to notice when the jaguar entered the room.
Besides, what does it matter?
Darren wondered.
Everything's already ruined.
Somehow,
he already knew what was going to happen . . . as if he'd already lived through it once.

“This isn't a conversation we ever wanted to have with you,” Mom began. “It's— I—”

As her voice faltered, Dad sighed. “What your mother is trying to say,” he began, “is . . .”

“We've decided to get a divorce,” Mom finished.

The jaguar padded across the room and sat next to Darren, almost protectively. Their eyes locked, and as he stared into the creature's gleaming golden eyes, he suddenly remembered everything.

“It's you,” Darren whispered to her.

Of course it is,
Gabriella thought back.
You didn't think we'd abandon you, did you?

“I don't know what to think anymore,” Darren said, and he buried his head in his hands.

Gabriella nodded toward his parents, who were sitting on the couch, motionless and oblivious.
This is it, isn't it?
she asked.
This is why your powers have been out of control.

Darren nodded. “Yes,” he said, and the word reverberated through his dream.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes
. An echo
that only got louder each time it sounded. It was out in the open now.

It was real.

I'm so sorry,
Gabriella thought.
I know how much it hurts.

“It hurts more than anything,” Darren told her. “All these happy memories we made together—at the beach, on Christmas morning, even just hanging out and watching a movie; they're slipping away. Mom is always working—even when she's home, she's always working—but at least she's here. Dad's gone. He's gone. And Ray's at college, like, all the time.”

You must feel so alone.

“Because I
am
alone,” Darren replied. One tear—just one—slipped down his cheek. He swatted at it angrily, hoping that Gabriella hadn't noticed.

Then, he realized, she wouldn't care. So Darren decided that he didn't care either.

You are
not
alone,
Gabriella's voice rang through his head with striking clarity.
You'll always have us. We're your family now, too.

But Darren shook his head. “We might be moving,”
he said. “Mom is looking for an apartment in New Brighton.”

You think you can get rid of us that easily?
Gabriella asked.

“You should get rid of
me
,” Darren said. “I ruin anything good. My powers are too dangerous—I hurt you, I could've hurt Fiona. Even my own parents can't bear to live in the same house with me—”

Whoa. Hold it right there,
Gabriella cut him off. She extended a paw, pointed it at Darren's parents.
You think this is
your
fault? Absolutely not. Was it my fault when my dad walked out?

“No,” Darren said, but Gabriella wasn't done yet.

Of course not,
she replied.
But I
thought
it was. For months I tried to figure out what I'd done wrong. If only I'd cleaned my room without being asked. Made my bed. Set the table. And then I realized that Dad didn't leave because of
me.
Adults make, like,
tons
of mistakes. All the time. And him leaving us, well, I think that was just another big mistake that he made. And it definitely wasn't
my
fault.

Darren ran his hands over his head. “But where do I even go from here? Everything's all messed up. We
might move; we might not have enough money; we might not ever be together again, not the way we used to be.”

You might not be,
Gabriella conceded.
It will be different, but that doesn't mean it can't be good again, too.

Darren wanted to believe that Gabriella was right, but his thoughts were still clouded with doubts and fears. “I'm just . . . I'm really tired. I don't—I don't think I have anything left. It's probably better if I stay here.”

Not an option,
Gabriella replied shortly.
I need you to wake up, Darren. Your powers—

“My powers?” he echoed. He stuck out his arm and shook his hand. “My powers are a joke. This wristband is the only reason I got my powers under control. But it was a lie, too. I was just being played by another one of Auden's henchmen. Do you even realize what that means? The kind of risk I put you all in?”

You didn't mean—
Gabriella began.

“What I
meant
to do doesn't matter!” Darren exploded. “What matters is what I
did
, what I could still do—at any moment, to anyone! Without the wristband, my powers will go haywire again. Electrical storms,
exploding lightbulbs, bolts of lightning shooting in every direction—” Darren's voice broke. He paused, took a deep breath, and tried again. “If I'm by myself in New Brighton, how will I ever learn to control my powers?”

Listen,
Gabriella thought urgently.
Do you remember when we found out we were Changers? We may be weird, but we're weird together
.
You have to trust us. We will always have your back, and nothing can change that—not family problems, not Auden Ironbound's dirty tricks, not even moving away. Mack and Fiona and I are here for you.

For the first time Darren looked straight at her. “You mean it?”

Of course I do,
Gabriella told him.
But you have to
let
us be there for you. You can't keep this stuff all bottled up inside. Trust me, I tried that when my transformations were out of control, and it only made things worse. But you know what helped? Asking for help. Talking about my problems. Keeping that stuff—fear, pain, loss—inside . . . it's like poison.

Darren's eyes widened. Hadn't Ray told him the same thing?

The jaguar placed her paw on Darren's hand.
You got
this,
she told him.
Because we got your back. Always.

Darren smiled, and for the first time in days, it wasn't forced. He knew, of course, that there were no magic fixes, that his parents' divorce was going to hurt for a while—probably a long while. Even so, he realized he had his friends, and that gave him hope. Maybe Gabriella was right. Maybe—even though he couldn't quite believe it right now—everything really would be okay. And that was enough, Darren realized, to keep going. To keep fighting.

He took a deep breath and looked around at the house, at his parents sitting so far apart on the couch.
It's time to leave this behind,
he thought.

And then he opened his eyes.