Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

at the same time feeling overwhelmingly attracted to you . . . to
something inside you. Since that first morning on the beach. Even
though I knew who—what—you were, I couldn’t stop feeling this
way. I just—” His cheeks turn redder. “My powers responded to my
emotions and—”
“Sent me tumbling face-first into the dirt?” I say, joking. “Yeah, I
remember that part.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand tighter. “I wish I could
go back and—”
“So you’re saying even you can’t fully control your powers?”
With his free hand, he rubs his palm against the knee of his
jeans. “It takes a lifetime to have complete control. We all have to
work at it.” Looking up at me from beneath his lids, he adds, “The
teachers at the Academy can help you learn control faster than you
ever could on your own.”
Is he right? Would it be better if I stayed on Serfopoula through
next year and learned how to use—I mean control my powers?
“Who knows what havoc you might wreak on the poor, unsuspecting
citizens of Los Angeles?” He leans over and nudges me
with his shoulder. “You’d be endangering the safety of millions of
people.”
“Really?” I ask with feigned awe. “Am I that powerful?”
He looks like he wants to lie, but thinks better of it—and a good
thing, too, because I’ve had enough lies and half-truths to last me
a lifetime.
“No,” he admits. “Probably not. But you could level a house or
two.”
“Well, then. For the safety of Los Angeles,” I say in mock sever-
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