She cupped her hand just slightly, and the smallest of flames danced across her palm, rolling back and forth from her fingers to the heel of her hand. She flattened her hand again and the flame disappeared, without even leaving a hint of smoke lingering in the air. “Stop that, would you,” Tony complained, his voice muffled by the picnic table he was resting his head against. “I can still feel it when you do that.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just fascinating.” Sally pulled her hand into a tight fist instead. Tony raised his head off the table and considered his sister for a second. This wasn’t her fault. He shouldn’t take it out on her.
“No, I’m sorry. We’re just handling this differently. I don’t think I can reach your level of excitement.” Tony smiled a weak sort of smile.
“Well, my thing is so much cooler than your thing.” Sally teased lightly, pulling her hand into position once again, watching the flame flicker to life. Tony muttered something under his breath that Sally was pretty sure was a swear, and pulled his hand into a similar pose. Instead of a little flicker of flame, there was a bead of water, growing bigger the longer he held his hand. When Tony laid his hand flat, the water didn’t disappear but rolled off the heel of his hand. They watched the water droplet fall and hit the ground, turning the concrete beneath his hand a darker shade of gray. “Besides, mine has a much easier cleanup,” Sally added staring at the circle with an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, but mine is more useful in the not dying of thirst kind of way.” Tony countered halfheartedly. Sally made the flame shine a little bit brighter, smirking at him as the flame grew a little higher in her hands. Tony shook his head before lowering it back down to the plastic fake wood. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yours is cooler.”
“Kids! Inside! Now!” Sally turned to see their grandmother dipping back inside the sliding glass doors of their house, almost slamming it shut behind her.
“Don’t figure that’s a celebration and explanation of how to use our newly discovered powers, do you?” Tony asked.
“I think it’s more likely to be the ‘your father is scum and here’s why’ rant—but with more detail than we got when we were eight,” Sally countered. She felt Tony’s hand, his non-water creating hand, slip into hers and give her a little squeeze.
“We can make it through anything, right Sal?”
Sally squeezed his hand back. “Of course, Tone. Anything we put our mind to.”
“Even our angry grandmother and hands that create something out of nothing?” Tony teased.
Sally tried not to look too worried. “Even that.”
“Then, let’s go.”