Damon Starts the Eighth Grade in THE SECRET CLUB, and Then Things Get Worse

When I was a kid, the coolest thing I could imagine would be to possess a super-power. I wasn't picky. Any power would do: super-strength, super-speed, flight, hurling energy bolts from my hands... heck, even the ability to bounce like a rubber ball would have its uses (well, it did for Bouncing Boy of the Legion of Super-Heroes).

In my first novel, THE POWER CLUB, I tried to tap into that feeling of being a kid and what it would be like to have have a power. Of course, powers come at a cost--in this case, freedom. Society simply can't have kids who teleport or grow to 30 feet tall or create rifts to other dimensions running around without keeping an eye on them. Thus, the kids have to live in the District, where mysterious leaders monitor what they can do.

Another cost? The power you have may not be the coolest or the most useful--at least at first.

Those were the themes I explored in THE POWER CLUB and take a step further in its just-published sequel, THE SECRET CLUB.

Set almost a year after the events of The Power Club, THE SECRET CLUB finds Damon entering the eighth grade--but things are nothing like he expected. Due to the influx of more kids with powers, the District has grown and the eighth grade has been moved to the high school. Instead of being in the top grade at the old school, Damon finds himself in the lowest grade at the new school.

He has to start over with new friends, new teachers, and new dangers lurking around every corner.

On his first day at the new school, he runs afoul of one such danger simply by walking down a hall:

Watch it!”

            Damon heard the warning a split second before he rounded a corner and collided with a wall. But this wall looked like a torso. He bounced back as if he’d landed face first on a trampoline and fell back on his butt. His books, class schedule, map scattered across the floor.

            A chorus of kids burst into laughter. Terrific. First day of school, and I’ve already made a fool of myself. He looked up to see what he had hit.

            The wall was in fact a torso. A towheaded youth towered over him like a mountain. Damon had never seen so many muscles, which rippled through the boy’s arms as if he were a cartoon character. A thin, long face perched atop a massive torso. The boy wore a plain t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up so there was no mistaking that the muscles were his.

            “That’s what you get for not paying attention!” the youth said.

            “I would,” Damon fired back, “but I didn’t expect to run into Mount Kilimanjaro!” He remembered Mount Kilimanjaro from geography class. Using humor might help him recover face.

            The youth’s smug expression turned into a hateful scowl. “I don’t like smart-asses!” he said, as he stomped toward Damon. The floor shook. The boy grabbed Damon and lifted him up over his head. Damon felt a rush of blood as he stared down at other kids, who paused in the hallway to laugh at him.

            He breathed in sharply. He could exhale—but what good would the darkspace do him in this situation? (THE SECRET CLUB, p. 13)

And that would be bad enough if his darkspace--his ability to create a cloud of darkness--didn't keep turning itself off and on at will.

And then things get worse.

What do you do when an old enemy shows up and wants to start a war with ords? Why, you form a Secret Club, of course!

Find out what happens in THE SECRET CLUB, now available on Amazon!

What’s Your Character’s Type? Part II: What the Enneagram Reveals about (More) Characters' Personalities

Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

This post continues from this one, in which we looked at the Enneagram types of Damon, Denise, and Kyle, three of the main characters in my novel, The Power Club. In this post, we’ll reveal the Enneagram numbers of the remaining members of the PC--Vee, Danner, and Ali--plus one.

The Enneagram is an ancient concept which categorizes a person’s traits, strengths, and weaknesses into one of nine interconnected numbers. These numbers, scholars claim, can reveal a lot about your inner drives and fears, as well as how you behave in situations of stress and growth. (See, for example, the bibliography at the end of the previous post.)

The Enneagram is also useful, I’ve found, for uncovering the inner drives, fears, etc., of fictional characters—whether you are a writer or a fan. For the most part, I already knew the inner drives and motivations of the PC members—or I thought I did. The Enneagram has helped me look at certain choices the characters make in a new way.

More information on the Enneagram can be found at the Enneagram Institute, from whence came the quotes below which describe each type.

Vee = Seven (The Enthusiast)

With the power of super-speed, Vee lives life by literally running from one thing to the next. He is “extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous,” but he can also become “overextended, scattered, and undisciplined.” As the original leader of The Power Club, he decides to cancel a workout session for no other reason than to watch something on TV; however, he neglects to inform the club’s newest member, Damon, of the cancellation. Alone, Damon is ambushed by his enemy from school, Calvin.

Vee feels truly bad about the consequences of his actions, but this doesn’t stop him from making similar mistakes. Once Damon is elected leader, Vee becomes “perfectionistic and critical” of every mistake Damon makes. In part, this is because Vee thinks of PC as his club and resents Damon for intruding. However, Vee’s basic fear “of being deprived and in pain” forces him to keep these tendencies in check for now. If he gets kicked out of the PC, Vee fears the pain would be more than he can bear.

Because of his sister Denise’s concern for his safety, Vee misses out on “a worthwhile experience,” which causes him to become ever more resentful towards Damon, as we will see in the second book. At his best, though, Vee is more focused and able to do what is required of him to help the others survive.

Danner = Eight (The Challenger)

Danner’s ability to grow to as large as 30 feet exemplifies his personality as an Eight: “self-confident, strong, and assertive” as well as “egocentric and domineering.” At school, Danner serves as a crossing guard, a position of authority he relishes. Typical of Eights, he loves to control his environment and the people in it. When Damon resists his authority, Danner becomes temperamental. This leads him to make a choice he later regrets (including fighting his former best friend, Kyle) and he goes to great lengths to pay off the debt he has created for himself. Losing self-control, to Danner, is the greatest weakness.

Still, Danner recognizes the good he did as a member of PC and takes it to the next level in the second book so he can “protect himself and others.” When this protection goes awry, he is forced into a truce with Damon and later saves Damon's life. Despite their mutual dislike, Danner readily thinks of himself as in charge and as a protector.

Ali = Three (The Achiever)

Ali, like Kyle, is a Three, but her Enneagram type is expressed in slightly different ways. Like Kyle, she is “assured, attractive, and charming” as well as “self-accepting and authentic.” But she is also competitive and needs to feel valuable. When the riot breaks out in the mall, Ali jumps right into the fight. Later, she loudly objects when Damon suggests her role in the group could be that of a mere lookout. In spite of that, she arrives late to the scene of the robbery and ends up acting as lookout anyway.

For Ali, feeling worthless is unacceptable, and this feeling can cause her to become “disengaged and apathetic.” Although she truly does not like lying to her parents about her PC activities, one reason she quits PC is because she feels relegated to a secondary role.

In the first book, she is still learning to use her power of flight and lacks confidence. By the second book, she exhibits much more control and daring. She plays a central role in The Safety Patrol, the school-sponsored club of powered kids. She becomes “cooperative and committed to others,” putting her life at risk to help the others out of a deadly situation. And she takes no b.s. from a would-be kidnapper.

And now the plus-one:

Calvin = Four (The Individualist)

It’s hard for me to think of “bad guy” Calvin as a Four because that’s the number I most identify with. But Calvin has a typical Four personality. He is “self-aware, sensitive, and reserved” but also “moody and self-conscious.” He feels “disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living.” He “has problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity.” Fours can be withdrawn, and Calvin possesses a literal power to withdraw: He can create rifts into other dimensions and then hide in those dimensions or make others disappear into them.

From Damon’s perspective, Calvin is a villain. But Calvin sees himself as a victim who is misunderstood and who has been isolated because of the dangers of his powers. Because he has spent so much of his childhood apart from other kids, he feels he has “no identity or personal significance.” He “wants to express [himself] and [his] individuality,” but when he did so in the past, it resulted in a classmate disappearing forever. Calvin thinks it unfair that his own powers are singled out as too dangerous while other kids get to practice theirs and to make friends. In the meantime, he is looking for a “rescuer” and, by the end of the first book, believes he has found one.

If Calvin gets a chance to grow in different directions, he may embrace the positive aspects of being a Four: surrounding himself with beauty and “becoming more objective and principled,” but a lot depends on his ability to make positive choices from the challenges he faces.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this look at Enneagram types as expressed through the main characters in The Power Club. I enjoyed exploring the types and learning new things about each character. In some cases, motivations are revealed here for the first time—things they haven’t shared with Damon, through whose eyes the story unfolds.

In a few days, the second book in the series, The Secret Club, will be available. In it, we will meet new powered kids to interact with Damon and the rest. In a future post, we’ll uncover their Enneagram numbers, as well.

The Book Review Amazon Wouldn't Publish

Reviews, writers are told, are their lifeblood--especially on Amazon. The more reviews you have, the belief goes, the more attention Amazon's all-powerful logarithms pay to your product. Therefore, all authors ask (or should ask) for reviews. I ask for reviews when I sell books.

And I support fellow authors by writing reviews of books I enjoy. I've written and published many reviews on Amazon without a hitch. Until now.

The Cost of Being a Reviewer?

Recently, I bought from Amazon a newly published book called Transtime (Life on Another Island Book 4) by Ruth Danes. I loved it, wrote an extensive review on it, and submitted it to Amazon. No other reviews had been posted, so I was delighted that mine would be the first.

Three days later, I received the following email from Amazon:

"Thank you for submitting a customer review on Amazon. After carefully reviewing your submission, your review could not be posted to the website. While we appreciate your time and comments, reviews must adhere to the following guidelines: . . ."

The "Community Guidelines" link that followed led to a full-page document which lists eligibility requirements and rules for posting reviews. The document is publicly available here. After poring through the guidelines, I can think of two reasons why my review might have been rejected. The firt is listed under "Eligibility Requirements":

"To contribute to Customer features (for example, Customer Reviews, Customer Answers, Idea Lists) or to follow other contributors, you must have spent at least $50 on Amazon.com using a valid credit or debit card in the past 12 months. Promotional discounts don't qualify towards the $50 minimum."

I don't keep track of my purchases on Amazon. However, Amazon keeps track of them, and the amount you spend apparently determines whether you are qualified to write a review.

This leaves me wondering how many reviews of my own books have been rejected because the reviewer did not meet the minimum purchase requirements. It also leaves me wondering how many good books languish with low exposure and low sales for the same reason.

Are You Connected?

The second possible reason for rejection can be found under the section labeled "Promotions and
Commercial Considerations."

In the interest of full disclosure, Transtime is published by Rogue Phoenix Press, which also publishes my book, The Power Club, and its forthcoming sequel. Nothing in the Community Guidelines states authors cannot review books from the same publisher. There is, however, the following vaguely worded statement:

"You may post content other than Customer Reviews and Questions and Answers regarding products or services for which you have a financial or close personal connection to the brand, seller, author, or artist, but only if you clearly and conspicuously disclose the connection (e.g., "I was paid for this post.")."

I was not paid for the review, and I'm not sure what "close personal" means, but it's true that I did not 'fess up to the RPP connection. If this is the reason for the rejection, it is illogical. Publishers publish a wide variety of books, so there really is no "close personal" connection among authors or between authors and publishers. It is not reasonable to expect reviewers to disclose every relationship they may have or to guess what vague terms mean.

It is also unfair because authors may be left wondering why there are so few reviews of their books. Readers miss out on reviews that may influence their purchases. And readers may be discouraged from contributing further reviews because they never know why their reviews were rejected.


You Be The Judge


I responded to the email by asking for clarification on the rejection but received no response. Since the guidelines state I cannot submit another review for the same book even with changes (whatever those changes may need to be), here is the review.

Life in the Good Ol’ Days?

Esme Stark is a biracial, bisexual woman who is not happy with her life. Once a member of a popular girl band, Esme’s own musical career hit the skids after the band broke up. She ekes out a living as a part-time admin for a boss and co-worker who drive her nuts. It’s been a long time since she’s had a relationship, and she doesn’t speak to her family following the death of her disabled sister. Esme fantasizes about what life would be like if she had lived in an earlier time—the 18th century. After meeting a counselor and an angel, Esme learns she can do just that. 

“Transtime” builds off a simple but compelling premise: Just as some people believe they are born in with the wrong gender, others believe they are born in the wrong time. Whereas technology now exists to help people transition from one gender to another, there is a supernatural means (otherwise unexplained) to transfer souls from one time to another. The process is irreversible: one swaps places with someone else who was born in the earlier or later time. 

Esme’s counselor, Jasmine, introduces her to Gabriel, an angel (though he prefers not to be called that), who helps her decide if she wants to live permanently in the past by allowing her to experience "scenarios"--experiencing life through the eyes of people who lived then. Esme temporarily swaps places with Zilpha, a peasant woman from the 18th century, who similarly feels she was born in the wrong time. 

“Transtime” is at its best when it allows Esme to subsume herself into different characters and experience their normal but frequently unfair and precarious lives. At first, she becomes Agnes, an eight-year-old girl from a well-to-do family who stays with her rich cousins. But the parents are abusive—the father regularly beats his rebellious son, and a daughter has been disowned and forced to change her name for refusing to conform to their ways. There were no laws protecting children in those days; everything the parents do is legal. 

In another scenario, Esme inhabits the life of a man—also named Gabriel—who spies for the English during their war with East Islanders---then called Demons. The story lays bear the prejudices of the time—literally demonizing those with different ways and customs. In one chilling scenario, Esme's host hangs “Demons” for no other reason than being born into that culture. 

 
But “Transtime” is not an indictment of the earlier era. What attracted Esme to the 18th century is what continues to attract her through each scenario: the sense of community. The people she inhabits lived smaller lives and had smaller worldviews—few traveled abroad—but each had something to contribute to that community: the very feeling that is lacking in Esme’s own time. 

 
The book contrasts these different worldviews when Esme and Zilpha meet to discuss their experiences after each scenario. At first, Zilpha expresses horror at the modern world (the book is sent in 2015): people on their screens all the time, single motherhood, the elderly suffering from dementia (“An earlier death would have been a blessing,” she observes). And Zilpha never accepts Esme’s point of view that it’s okay to love people of one’s own gender, even though Zilpha is herself bisexual. 

 
“Transtime” affords Esme (and the reader) the opportunity to live other people’s lives, to embrace the good with the bad, and to appreciate just how far society has come since the 18th century—but also the costs of that progress. None of the people Esme inhabits lived perfect lives, and neither does Esme herself. But the ability to fix one’s own life, and to help others improve theirs, exists for all.

"False Alarm": A Power Club Short Story (Part 5)

[One more scene from the work in progress.]      

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

       The next day, the officer boarded the bus and briefly glanced at Denise, just as he did most of the other kids.  Denise allowed herself to breathe normally only after she was well away from the district.  There was no vision this time, neither when the officer came aboard nor when the bus passed the chalk white building.  In fact, there was no vision the next day, either.

            But the following Monday, Denise received a shock as she reached her usual seat on the bus.

            “Where’s Sheila?” she called around. Sheila always boarded the bus before Denise. She looked around to see if Sheila had decided to sit somewhere else, but she was nowhere to be found.

            “Where’s Sheila?” she repeated to Billy Underwood, who lived next door to Sheila in one of the lower-income neighborhoods in the district.

            Billy shrugged. “I dunno.  She wasn’t at the bus stop.  Maybe she overslept.”

            “Sheila wouldn’t oversleep.” Denise had stayed over at Sheila’s house several times and knew her friend always rose early--a trait that annoyed Denise because she often liked to sleep late.

            “Maybe she developed a power,” Billy offered with a smirk.

            Denise made a sound of disgust and took her seat.  Billy, as usual, was of no help. Denise knew it was normal for kids to miss school at times, but she couldn’t stop worrying about her friend.  She had a feeling, like sandpaper rubbing against the back of her heart, that Sheila was connected with the vision somehow.

            At recess, Denise found Sheila sitting at a curb at the edge of the playground.      

            “Why weren’t you on the bus today?” she shouted as she ran up to her friend, trying no to let on how worried she’d been.

            Sheila looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week.  “Mom took me to the doctor.  I’ve got a fever.”

            “Why didn’t you stay home?”

            “We can’t afford a sitter.”  Sheila coughed into a tissue.  “Mom said I’ll be all right if I stay away from other kids and don’t strain myself.”  Her voice was barely a croak.

            Denise watched some of the other girls running around the playground.  She longed to join them, but she didn’t want to leave her friend by herself.

            “It’s okay,” Sheila said, apparently guessing what Denise was thinking.  “I’m used to being alone.”

            Denise started to walk off, but something held her back.  It was as if she had some sort of feeling about Sheila.  The sandpaper feeling returned.

            Sheila  croaked, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

            Denise shrugged, figuring that if acting dumb worked for Billy Underwood, it might work for her.

             “Denise, you’re starting to bug me.  Like I said, just leave me alone.”

            “Well, all right,” Denise said in a huff.  She turned and jogged over to join some of the other girls climbing on the monkey bars, but a hacking cough from Sheila jolted Denise’s attention back.  It sounded like a cry for help.

            Sheila sat on the curb as if nothing were wrong and pulled a fresh tissue out of her sweater pocket. 

            Denise stared at her friends fingers and slowly walked back to her.

            “What is it now?” Sheila almost whispered.

            “What’s that on your fingers?”

            Sheila smiled.  “Like it?  My mom painted them last night.”  Sheila splayed her fingers, revealing five painted-on sunflowers.

            “Oh,” Denise said.  She didn’t mean to sound disappointed, but for a moment she expected to see something else.  “I mean, they’re great,” she said, trying to recover quickly.

            If Sheila noticed the awkward compliment, she didn’t let on.  “Mom painted her own nails the same way,” she prattled on.  “Except she painted butterflies instead.”

"False Alarm": A Power Club Story (Part 4)

Part 1.   

Part 2.

Part 3. 

         The man from the district had lied. The tests did hurt—and there was more than one of them.

           Of course, Denise had gone through most of the tests before when she went to the doctor: Nurses drew her blood, tested her eyes, and even sent her through a machine that scanned her brain. Vee had gone through these tests many times as the district tried to keep track of how his power was growing, and Denise had joked about him: “They can’t scan for your brain because you don’t have a brain.” But this time it was no joke.

            Denise had patiently cooperated with every test, but she couldn’t wait to go back to school or even go home. But a doctor with a thick black mustache and a shaven head came into the waiting room and told Denise there was one more test she had to go through: He wanted to see if she could predict what was going to happen.

            Denise held her father’s hand as they followed the doctor down a long, windowless hallway. The parts of the District Center she had seen so far resembled and ordinary hospital or doctor’s office, but this hallway seemed to go on forever, and Denise got very scared as she passed underneath a row of old-fashioned circular light fixtures that lit the hallway. The metal discs surrounding each light resembled a witches cauldron, and she thought of the story of Hansel and Gretel being tricked into going into a witch’s house so the witch could eat them.  She held her father’s hand tighter.

            The doctor led them into a room which had a large booth in the middle. It resembled one of those booths used by the family doctor to test Denise’s hearing every year.  She began to relax when she saw it, thinking this test wouldn’t be so bad.  The doctor made her sit in a chair in the center of the booth and attached wires to her arms and forehead. Denise felt like a lab animal in one of her mother’s experiments.

            The doctor then turned and whispered something to Denise’s father. He nodded slowly and started to leave the chamber.

            “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice suddenly nervous.

            Gerard Evans turned to face his daughter with an expression that seemed almost sorrowful. “They can’t test you with me in the room, Neesy. It’s going to be all right. I’m just going down the hall to call your mother and tell her how things are going.”

            For some reason, Denise hadn't even thought to ask her father if he had told her mother that he was going to take her back to the district to be tested. But he must have told her. Of course, he had. Suddenly, the idea that Denise’s mother and brother may not even know where she was and that she might not ever see them again entered her mind, and she began to squirm and try to pull the wires off her arms and forehead.

            “I want to go home!” she cried.

            The doctor kneeled at her side and began carefully reattaching the wires. Despite his tough appearance, he had a gentle touch and a soothing voice. “It’s going to be all right,” he said in strong, even voice. “I know this is scary for you, Denise, but it won’t take long and we really do need your help.  If your vision was correct, all those people could be in danger.”

            Denise, in spite of herself, began to calm down a little. “Then just make them leave the building!  Shut the building down!” she argued.

            “We can’t do that, Denise,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile.  “We need to know if your vision was real first.”

            Denise glanced at her father, but Gerard Evans stood in the doorway of the booth, his face drooping and his eyes looking sad and scared. Denise had never seen her father look so helpless before.

***

            “Okay, Denise,” the doctor’s voice boomed over the intercom.  He had moved to a small room to the side of the booth and watched Denise through a glass window.  “A series of images will flash on the screen in front of you.  I want you to tell me what they are going to be before you see them, okay?”

            Denise wanted to call for her father again. Instead, she nodded once.

            “Here’s the first one,” the doctor said.

            Denise concentrated, and an image popped into her mind.  “A cat.”

            The image of a baseball appeared on the screen.

            Denise let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

            “Here’s the second one.”

            Denise pretended to concentrate.  A new image appeared in her mind.  “It’s . . . a balloon.”

            The image of a horse appeared.

            This is easy, she thought.  All she had to do was let her imagination wander and say whatever popped into her head.  Whatever it was, she was bound to be wrong.

            “Here’s the third one,” said the doctor.

            “An airplane.”

            There was a pause. “What kind of airplane?”

            The question threw her. 

            “I don’t know . . . the old kind, with a propeller.”

            The image of a kitten appeared.

***

            “It was a lucky guess,” her father argued with the doctor.

            “Maybe,” the doctor replied in a soft voice, as if he were trying too hard to be polite, “but she did get the kind of airplane right, even though it was the sixth image, not the third.”

            Denise sat in a cold, metal chair by the doctor’s desk while he talked to her father.  She understood more than she let on.  For instance, when the doctor said she had been right forty percent of the time, she knew that was a good sign.  In school, forty percent would be failing.  For the first time in her life, Denise wanted a grade of F.

            The doctor sat back in his chair.  “So, the tests were inconclusive.  I’d like you to bring Denise back for further testing next week.  If she does have an emerging power, it will show up in comparative brain scans.  Meanwhile, if she has any further visions, report them to the district police immediately.”

            Her father’s expression dropped.  “But suppose it was just a false alarm.  The burning building—”

            “Mr. Evans,” the doctor interrupted, “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that failing to report a super-power is a crime.  It can get you and your family in a lot of trouble.”  He then glanced at Denise and looked sorry, as if he had forgotten she was in the room.

            Denise glared at the doctor’s feet.  She had never been so angry before.  The doctor was going to get her dad arrested if he didn’t turn Denise in again! 

            Well, there was one way to solve that problem.  Denise simply wouldn’t tell her dad or anyone else if she had any more visions.

***

            “It was a false alarm,” she told Sheila Torvald on the bus the next day.  Of course, word had gotten around that the district taken Denise to be tested.        

            Billy Underwood leaned over the back of Denise’s seat and stared at her.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “Checking to see if you have a mole,” he answered.

            Suddenly, the kids in front of Denise were on their knees and leaning over the backs of their seats, staring her in the face.  The kids across the aisle were leaning into the aisle as if their faces were magnetically attracted to hers.

            “Get away from me!” she yelled.

            “Denise has a power!” someone whispered.  Someone else said it louder, and then everyone chanted it.

            “Pipe down back there!” Marge, the bus driver, sounded like a tank.  No one ever got out of line on Marge’s bus.  Denise was usually afraid of the large, heavy-set woman, but, for once, she was glad to be on Marge’s bus.  It immediately grew quiet, and the other kids turned around and faced forward.

            The bus stopped at the border checkpoint, as usual, and a policeman boarded to check for kids with powers.

            “You better hide!” Sheila whispered to Denise.

            “Where?” Denise whispered back and immediately wished she hadn’t.  After all, why would she have to hide?

            The policeman boarded the bus and did his usual inspection.  He paused when he reached Denise’s seat and watched her.

            She felt very nervous, though she didn’t know why.  She wanted to look away but found her attention being drawn toward him, almost as if she were being compelled to look against her will.

            —and then she was somewhere else.

            Everything was dark, and there was a terrible smell around her.  She tried to breathe in and gagged.  Smoke.

            Oh no! No! No!  She had been here before.  In one of her “visions”.  No, it’s just a dream.  It’s not real.  She tried to make herself wake up, but she couldn’t.  The smoke was everywhere, and someone nearby screamed.

            She found herself running even though she didn’t want to run.  She was taking strides her young legs couldn’t possibly take.  She found herself running through a room—it looked like an office with desks and computers.  Denise’s hand—no, the woman’s—reached out.  Her fingernails had butterflies on them.  The woman’s hand touched a door—it was very hot.

            —“Hey, Denise!  Wake up!”

             Denise blinked.  Sheila was sitting next to her on the bus, shaking her.

            “What happened?”  Denise asked.

            “You zoned out.   We’re at school now.”

            Denise looked out the window just in time to see the school parking lot roll into view.

            “What about the policeman?  What did he do?”

            Sheila looked confused by the question.  “He just stared at you and left.  I guess that proves you don’t have a power after all.”