that allows you to rein in the ability through concentration or sheer willpower.”
Sophie blinked. “If that did exist… how would I find it?”
“That would be up to you to determine,” he told her. “Journeys of self-discovery must be embarked upon alone.”
“Great,” Sophie grumbled, making no effort to hide her eye roll. “You realize that’s not actually an answer, right?”
“It is—it’s just not the answer you seek,” Mr. Forkle countered. “You want a ready solution, and I cannot give that to you. But I can assure you that if you become more mindful as you use this ability—more aware of the tiny shifts and connections occurring within you as it works—you’ll likely discover whole new worlds of strength and control. Remember, this ability wasn’t one we chose for you—it was one your genetics naturally dictated. Which likely means your genetics have given you the means to manage it on your own.”
Sophie sighed. “That’s still not helpful.”
“It will be,” he insisted. “You just need to give yourself a chance to process.”
“Yeah, well, in the meantime, I’m stuck with eight zillion pairs of gloves and trying not to let my enemies get anywhere near me. Might as well lock me in my room.”
“I’m on board with that plan,” Sandor jumped in. “I’ll happily stand guard at the door.”
Mr. Forkle smiled. “That won’t be necessary. Miss Foster simply needs to remember to rely on her friends.”
He called Dex over and had Dex hold one of Sophie’s fingernail gadgets in one hand while letting her fully enhance him.
“Oh wow,” Dex breathed, his knees buckling the second her fingertips touched his skin—and miraculously, no one made any jokes about Sophie knocking a boy off his feet as Stina and Biana lunged to hold Dex steady. No one mentioned how many additional times Dex whispered, “Wow,” before he pulled his hand free and sank to the grass, staring at the sky.
“Think you can make some adjustments to Tinker’s design?” Mr. Forkle asked him after several seconds. “Create a more powerful shield for Miss Foster’s ability until she learns how to manage it with her mind?”
“I think so, yeah,” Dex mumbled, followed by a bunch of techy words that sounded like gibberish.
“I’ll take him inside,” Biana volunteered, hooking Dex’s arm around her shoulders and hauling him to his shaky feet. “He’s going to need a notebook to write this all down and make some sketches.”
“See?” Mr. Forkle said, turning back to Sophie. “Your teammates are already working on a technical solution. And while they do that, I want you to get some rest—and spend the whole day in bed tomorrow if you can. Try to clear your mind of all other worries and start that mental journey.”
“How?” Sophie asked.
Mr. Forkle smiled. “That’s up to you. But the first step is sleep.”
* * *
As it turned out, mental journeys were every bit as pointless and annoying as Sophie expected—and also, surprisingly exhausting.
Her mind didn’t want to “clear.”
Focusing on her breathing just ended up making her spend hours counting.
And when she tried to listen to her body, all it told her was that she was restless. And hungry. And really hated wearing so many pairs of gloves.
So Sophie literally tackled Dex with a hug the next day, when he showed up with Lovise and Mr. Forkle to deliver her newly designed fingernail gadgets.
The gadgets were clear this time and had to be worn on every finger—and the sequence of taps to activate and deactivate them was much more complicated. But once the gadgets were in place and active, they seemed to do their job perfectly, blocking her enhancing both for Dex and Mr. Forkle.
“You should probably test them on Keefe,” Dex suggested, “since he was even more sensitive to your ability than we were. And I’d still recommend wearing double gloves—and keeping a couple of extra pairs in your pockets.”
Mr. Forkle clicked his tongue. “Have you so little faith in your talent, Mr. Dizznee?”
“No. I just also know technology isn’t perfect. It breaks. Or other stuff interacts with it. So it’s good to have a backup plan.”
Sophie nodded, pulling Dex into another hug, relieved that it still didn’t feel a tiny bit weird between them.
“Thank you,” she told him. “You saved me from being Lady Marshmallow Hands.”
Dex grinned, flashing his dimples. “See, now I kinda want to take back the gadgets.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Sophie warned.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it, Lady Marshmallow Hands,” Dex countered.
Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “In all seriousness, Miss Foster, I still hope you’ll keep