The Gifted Ones: A Reader Read Online Free Page A

your sweater on the way out. I know it’s April now, but it’s still chilly!”
     
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    As Ellie bounded down the stairs, Grace hurried across the hall to watch out the front window. The street below was lined with tightly-packed row houses, mostly early twentieth century in soft pastels with ornate trims. The tall skinny houses with their minimal lawns and scraggly trees—often ringed with black iron fences—gave the neighborhood a semblance of small town community, despite being minutes from the big city of Atlanta. Grace was happy enough here. She wasn’t a fan of densely populated metro living, but if one wanted to disappear, it was a swell way to do it.
    Ellie’s friend Wanda had pulled up right out front, double-parking long enough for Ellie to run out and hop in. Grace could see the three other girls and the tag-along baby brother packed into the car as they drove off. She scanned the street, of course. Nothing out of the ordinary. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the window, hoping that Ellie understood that all her Mother-Henning had nothing to do with trust; it was just about keeping the girl safe.
    Grace made her way down the stairs and into the parlor, stopping for a moment to admire the way the setting sun was bouncing around the room as it passed through the stained glass bordering the front window. This pretty old Victorian had so many layers of charm, no one would ever guess the kind of security system that lay beneath it. Nor would she want them to; if people knew how well-protected their home was, they might start wondering what there was to be protected.
    Grace walked over to the old rolltop desk in the corner. The top stuck, as usual, as she tried to unroll it, but she liked to think of that as just one of the many charms of an antique. She’d learned a lot about antique furniture since moving to this artsy-fartsy section of Atlanta—mostly which pieces were truly valuable collectibles, and which pieces, like the rolltop desk, looked just as nice, but could be had for a song. Once she got the rolltop to behave, she pulled up the matching chair, opened her laptop, and headed straight for Ellie’s school website. She used her parent login to do some basic recon on Aiden Orcutt, then started a wider search. She found his FacePlace page and ferreted out some general information—previous schools, sports, friends, a few awards, a few photos. He appeared to be a good student, respectful, articulate, and apparently, never in trouble. Not a bad looking kid, either. Maybe he and Ellie would hit it off a bit, and Ellie would stop thinking that “boys don’t like dorky girls.”
    So good, she could let it go now and relax. Well, almost. She took her search just a little deeper, to Aiden’s parents. That is, she tried. But she couldn’t find a name or a picture or even a reference to an occupation or employer. Odd. But not that odd. Not everyone wanted their whole life story on the internet for all the world to see, especially folks in Grace’s generation. Maybe Aiden’s parents weren’t into social media, or maybe they had different last names, or maybe they were dead, like Ellie’s parents. Now wouldn’t that be an unfortunate thing to have in common?
    Grace shook her head, clearing out the morbid thought, and pushed herself away from the desk. Surely, she was just being her usual paranoid self. She felt it was a forgivable trait, considering the experiences that had led her to this life.
    She decided she needed to take her mind off of it, and headed into the kitchen. A bowl of popcorn and a couple movies would do the trick—maybe for once, she could indulge in a silly comedy or a chick flick, instead of those classic black and white films that Ellie adored. By the time she was finished watching, Ellie would be home again, safe and sound. Grace walked into the kitchen, got out the popcorn, and poured some oil into the popper. She stared absently out the kitchen window at their tiny