“It’s not a good idea.” I shuffled on my feet, refusing to look at the mossy old log.

  “Oh, come on, Molly!” Lucy knelt so her face was directly in my field of vision. “You need to practice this hero stuff.”

  “I told you, I’m not a hero.”

  “Whatever!” She waved her hand like she was swatting the sentence away. “You can’t continue to lose control with pickle jars.”

  The sentence hung between us in the crisp autumn air. When Lucy had invited me out to her favorite hiking trail, I’d assumed it was for a walk. It’d been a week and my hands were completely healed. She hadn’t brought up the incident in the kitchen until we hopped off our bikes, disregarding them like dirty socks in the soggy leaves.

  She was so excited she was sweating when she’d pointed at a log about as long as she was tall and wide enough that my fingers would barely touch if I wrapped both arms around it. “Go ahead, lift it up.”

  She wasn’t trying to record it. She’d made a point of showing her hands. And I’d forgotten my phone at home. But that was fifteen minutes ago and we were still arguing.

  “Come on.” She stood from her stump-seat and slowly spun in a big circle. She still looked exhausted. “Who’s gonna see us?”

  “That’s not the point!” I yelled and she backed up so quickly that she stumbled over the stump, falling on her butt and crunching a stick.

  “See, you’re already scared!” I collapsed on the ground, sitting Indian style and immediately feeling the wet earth soak my butt. Great, my jeans would probably be brown when I stood up.

  I sighed. and rubbed my temples. “Can’t we just forget this?”

  “No way!” Some twigs crunched as Lucy crawled over to me. “Look, you startled me just now, it's not a big deal.”

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Yeah, right.” I glared at her. “Everyone scrambles away from their friends.”

  “You’ve never yelled before.” She looked at the ground, twirling a yellow-brown leaf absently by its stem. “It surprised me.”

  “But that’s the point, Luc.” I pulled my knees up under my chin and watched the leaf twirl. “If just raising my voice is scary, what about when I lose control?”

  My stomach started to churn at the sight of the leaf and I looked away, watching the gentle rustle of scarlet and green leaves on a nearby maple.

  “And that is my point.” Lucy placed a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped, unaccustomed to the feeling. “I don’t know what happened before and I don’t need to. But you’re my sister, and I need to know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safest when I hide.”

  “And what happens when you break a door or crush someone’s hand in a shake?” Her words made me flinch and she sighed. “You have to live, Molly.”

  Dang it. She actually had a point. Cell phones are everywhere, and obviously it wasn’t just a fluke with my mom. I couldn’t just avoid this forever.

  I let out a breath and stood, stooping almost immediately to get my arms under the log. I could feel the heft, it wasn’t like that didn’t exist. This thing was massive. And nasty.

  “Ugh!” I tossed the log as far from me as possible, it crashed against a tree and shattered while I ran my hands up and down my jeans. “I think something crawled over my hands!”

  I’d felt tiny little legs tickling my skin. I could still feel them as I rubbed furiously. Lucy didn’t say anything. Just panted and wiped her brow.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I waved a hand in front of her mesmerized eyes. “Earth to Lucy…”

  “That. Was. AWESOME!” She whooped and cheered, then staggered backwards clumsily.

  “Whoa, watch out.” I caught her under the arms. “Are you tired again?”

  “It’s no big deal.” She swatted my hands away and pointed at the splintered remains of the log. “That is a big deal.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve been off for a week now–”

  “God, you sound like Mom. Can we celebrate!? Let’s grab a few chunks.” She ran forward, her gait still awkward.

  “Lucy–”

  “Come on, we’ll make necklaces!” She grabbed a handful and turned around, a big smile on her face right before she collapsed into the dirt.

  Her dad found out about my strength when I staggered through the sliding door, carrying his daughter and screaming for help.