up on his bed, sobbing about how unfair it was. And I told him…” Dex swallowed hard. “I told him that it would be his turn soon enough. And… he didn’t believe me. He looked right at me and whispered, ‘What if I never manifest?’ ”
Keefe turned away.
Dex choked a little as he added, “I told him he was being ridiculous. I said he was only twelve, and he still had tons of time left—and that just because Bex and Lex got their abilities early didn’t mean he wouldn’t get one too. And then I said his ability would probably be way cooler than theirs and that’s why it was taking a little longer—and he sat up and asked, ‘Like a Technopath?’ And I remember thinking how weird that was, since I was actually bummed about my ability at first. But he told me, ‘Think of all the cool stuff we could build together!’ ”
His voice broke with a sob, and Keefe had to scrub away a few tears of his own.
He tried to think of something to say—something to fix this.
The best he could come up with was “We could still be wrong. Just because the two feelings were the same doesn’t mean…”
“Yeah, I know,” Dex said quietly. “That’s why we can’t tell him. Maybe once you get a little more used to the ability, you’ll realize it was just… a misunderstanding.”
“Exactly,” Keefe agreed.
But neither of them sounded convinced.
Dex sniffled. “The thing is, though… even if we knew for sure… we’d still have to hide it for as long as we could. I mean… think about what it would do to him—to his life? He’d probably get expelled from Foxfire. And everyone would start treating him even worse than they already do. Gossiping about how there’s another Talentless Dizznee—they’ve all been waiting for that since the triplets were born. So once they have their confirmation, they’re going to focus all their judgment on Rex and make him feel defective and worthless and inferior—like he shouldn’t exist, and—”
“And they’re wrong,” Keefe interrupted. “You and I both know that. So will everyone who matters.”
Dex sniffled again. “Yeah, but we also know that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
Keefe sighed. “Very true.”
Several agonizing seconds passed before Dex murmured, “And I do realize that if you’re right and Rex is… you know… then all of that is going to happen eventually, anyway. I can’t change that. But… if we don’t tell him, at least he’ll get a few more good years before he has to deal with it, right? It’s not like I’m keeping the secret for me—it’s actually going to be brutal hiding it. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to pretend to be excited when he talks about the abilities he wants—or how I’m not going to strangle Lex and Bex when they tease him about not manifesting yet. And if he ever finds out that I hid this… I don’t know. I can’t decide if I’d be grateful or furious if someone kept something like this from me. Probably a little of both. But I’d also feel super betrayed and foolish, like… You listened to me cry about how bad ability detecting was going, and you never said anything! He may even hate me for it. But… I can’t tell him. I can’t do that to him—not yet.”
Keefe stared at his hands, wishing he had something to squeeze or throw or punch. “I’m sorry I dumped this on you,” he whispered, wondering if he should smack himself. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He’d kept his mouth shut for days, trying to make sure he didn’t say anything to hurt someone.
And the first time he lets himself talk, what does he do?
Dex would never look at his brother the same now.
There’d always be a little bit of weirdness between them.
All because he had to tell Dex—
“It’s not your fault,” Dex said, like he knew what Keefe was thinking. “You didn’t do this to him. It’s just… genetics.”
“I still didn’t have to tell you about it,” Keefe argued.
“Well… I asked,” Dex reminded him.
And it looked like he wished he hadn’t.
Which made Keefe wonder what he was supposed to do the next time this happened—the next time he felt that strange emptiness and knew exactly what it meant.
Should he tell the person?
Hide it?
Would he even be able to pull that off?
Or would they know right away that something was wrong?
Wrong with HIM—not THEM, he clarified.
He shouldn’t be able to know these things. And