“Not again. If you see them, you go somewhere else.”

Michael gritted his teeth and looked at the back door just so he wouldn’t have to look at his parents. “I want to leave.”

His father made a disgusted noise. “We’re not talking about this again. If we move to a new community, there’s no guarantee we could keep your abilities hidden—”

“Not all of us,” Michael snapped. He pointed to his chest. “Just me.”

“Go ahead,” said his father, his tone equally sharp. “They’d report you before dark. Rogue Elemental on the run? You’d be lucky to make it ’til sunrise.”

“John,” said his mother. “That’s enough.”

“He’s bluffing.”

Michael leaned down and put his hands against the table. “Try me.”

His father stared back. “This isn’t a game.”

“Trust me. I’m not having any fun.”

His father’s voice lowered and lost some of the anger. “I’m not kidding, Michael. Running away from this won’t work. It’s a death wish.”

Michael flung his chair in against the table. “Maybe I should just take my chances.”

He stormed across the kitchen, sure his father was going to call him back, to lecture more, to issue ultimatums and threats until Michael caved and promised to try harder.

How do you try harder at something that consumes every waking thought?

But his father didn’t say anything. Michael kept going.

Only to find his three brothers waiting, wide-eyed, just outside the kitchen doorway, their expressions some mix of betrayal and anger and confusion.

Great.

“You’re leaving?” said Nick.

“Look. Guys ...” Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean right this second—”

“So you are,” said Chris. “You’re leaving.”

Gabriel had backed up against the wall, and his arms were folded across his chest. “What’s going to happen to the rest of us?”

“Are they going to kill you?” said Chris, his voice hollow.

“Tyler won’t stop,” said Nick. “Just because you’re gone, the rest of them will still—”

“Boys.”

Michael felt their mother come up behind him, felt her slim hand on his shoulder. “No one is leaving,” she said. “People say things in anger all the time. Michael didn’t mean it.”

Three sets of eyes locked on his.

“Tell them,” she said.

Michael looked at his three brothers. He could read the new emotion there: desperation. They wanted him to deny it.

He wanted to.

He just didn’t want to lie.

So he shrugged off his mother’s hand and went for his bedroom.

And he didn’t come out all night.

CHAPTER 3

Emily stared at the door to the shop. Sweat was trickling down her back despite the blasting air-conditioning.

I come on Wednesdays and Fridays.

Maybe he wouldn’t show. Her father sure hadn’t been subtle when he’d called the Merricks. But maybe that would work against her. Just like the other day. Michael had seemed just as surprised to see her—and then she’d gone and provoked him. Sure, her parents had a deal with his, but it felt flimsy. Kind of like those treaties with countries who kept nuclear warheads.

We promise not to use them unless you piss us off.

Maybe she should keep a putter on the counter.

Maybe she shouldn’t have told her parents.

But at least they hadn’t made her quit.

The clock struck four, the time he’d shown up on Wednesday. No Michael.

At four-thirty, the door swung open, but it was only a young mother with children coming to use the putt-putt course.

She had to do something to settle her nerves. She plugged her iPod into the sound system and scrolled through for her favorite musical.

The hands of the clock were creeping toward five, when her shift ended. Maybe her father’s phone call had worked. Besides, this wasn’t the only place around town with batting cages.

But then the doorknob creaked.

Her hand closed around the handle of a putter. If she screamed, would the woman with the preschoolers hear her?

The door swung open. Michael stood there.

But he didn’t come through the doorway. Just like the other day, she watched him sweep the corners with his eyes.

What was he looking for?

His gaze settled on the putter on the glass counter, then lifted to meet hers. “I was kind of kidding about you trying to kill me every time.”

She flushed and slid it into the holder.

He came all the way into the shop and put a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Can I get five tokens, or do you need to check with Daddy first?”

Her blush deepened. For some insane reason, she felt like she should apologize—when he was the one who should be avoiding her.

She fished the tokens from the drawer and slapped them onto the glass counter. She mustered the courage to meet his eyes, to let him know she wouldn’t let him screw with her. She tried to make her voice hard—and it ended up making her sound like a bitch. “Is that all?”

His eyes flashed with derision. “So brave.”

What a jerk. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not the one tempting fate by coming here.”

He shoved the tokens into his pocket, and for the first time, he sounded resigned instead of antagonistic. “Aren’t you?”