I scoffed at him. The book was there. Right in my hands.

"Don't be dumb," I said. "Look!" I shook the book in his face. He stepped away from me, his annoyingly large eyes filled with pity.

"Don't look at me like that," I said sharply. His expression reminded me of Madi. She felt bad for me sometimes; she just didn't understand. She was just jealous that I was special. Maybe Enzo was also jealous. Maybe telling him was a bad idea.

"No Zuza, you look." His voice quivered. He walked over to where the book once was, bent down, and stood back up. He was holding his hands out, but there was nothing in them.

"There's nothing there," I said stubbornly. "Stop making fun of me."

Enzo shook his head defensively. "I'm not! You're the one not holding anything in your hands. Feel the book in my hands!"

I pulled the book close to me, almost afraid that it would disappear from my grasp. I closed my eyes. Why was he acting like this? I shouldn't have trusted him.

"Zuza," he pleaded. "Please. Feel the book."

I blindly held out my hand and it was met with the smooth leather of the book's spine. I recoiled in shock. I opened my eyes, and Enzo was holding the book. I looked down at my own hands.

They were empty.

"How did you do that?" I demanded.

"I didn't do anything, I just picked up the book off of the ground."

My face suddenly felt hot. "What are you saying?"

Enzo was on the verge of tears again. "... You didn't do anything Zuza."

My throat swelled with fear and embarrassment. Hot tears pushed to escape.

"Do you think-" I couldn't finish the question. I turned and ran from him, rushing away from the river.

I sprinted home, ignoring his voice calling after me.

**************

I burst through the door of my home where my parents were seated in our small living room.

"Zuzanna?" My mother stood in surprise. "What's wrong?" I pushed past her and ran upstairs to my room.

"Zuza?!" My father called. I slammed the door and sank against it. I let my tears flow freely down my face and my vision quickly blurred. I heard a knock at my door.

"Zuza?" My mother said on the other side of the door. "Did something happen at Hirsh and Baila's? Is Hirsh alright?"

"Why didn't you-" A sob caught in my throat. It hurt to push it down. "...There's something wrong with me."

I could hear my mother start to cry.

"We shouldn't have let her go by herself," She said quietly to my father, but I could still hear it. Why were they acting like this? It was over. I knew.

"WHY DOES IT MATTER?" I screamed. "I'm not gifted... I'm just... insane? Seeing things that aren't there. And no one-" I cried again, burying my face in my hands.

"Zuza..." My father's voice cracked. "You're our special girl. Hirsh thought it best if we just let you... We thought you would grow out of it after a time."

Pain welled in my chest. Hirsh knew too? How many people knew that there was something wrong with my brain? No wonder I always had an escort; my family didn't want me running around talking like a crazy person. Someone always needed to watch over me...

My family was ashamed of me.

"Open the door, Zuza." My mother said. She wiggled the door handle.

I didn't move.

My head swam with emotions. I grabbed my head and cowered against the door. I felt as if my room was about to swallow me in shadows, leaving nothing left. Nothing left to remind my parents of their embarrassment of me.

I sighed. "No. Please leave me alone."