He sat up, grabbing his phone and dialing Lizzie's number. She answered almost immediately.
"Hello, Desmond. What is it?" Lizzie asked, glancing out the window from the passenger seat of her mom's car.
"Remember that trick Parker used in the novel to gain perfect control of his Celestial Fluid around chapter six hundred or so?" Desmond asked, vaguely recalling the volume but not the exact chapter.
"It's chapter 632," Lizzie corrected, already guessing where he was going with this. "Why are you asking?"
"When you get to the academy, use that trick to gain perfect control of your Celestial Fluid," he replied.
"My gift may only be at level one, but having perfect control will definitely attract attention." Lizzie's voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes darting toward her mom in the driver's seat.
"Drawing attention could be risky, Desmond. It'll bring good and bad."
"That's exactly why you should use the trick. If we can get the academy's attention and they place us in a special training program, we'll definitely outpace Parker's growth," Desmond said confidently. "Alright, I've got to go. See you soon!"
Before Lizzie could respond, he ended the call and tossed his phone onto the bed before dashing downstairs.
On the other end of the call, Lizzie scowled at the screen.
"That doesn't seem like a good id—hey, don't just cut me off like that!" She dialed his number again, but after two tries with no answer, she sighed, giving up.
"I wonder what he meant by 'see you soon,'" she muttered, turning her head to find her mother giving her an amused look.
"Desmond called?" Sarah asked, her smile widening.
"Yes, Mom," Lizzie replied, noticing the glint in her mother's eyes. "He was just telling me something important."
"I get it," Sarah said with a knowing smile as she refocused on the road. "I used to whisper to your father in front of my parents too."
"It's not what you're thinking," Lizzie protested, exasperation clear in her voice. "He's just… it's complicated."
"Of course, darling. Love is complicated," Sarah winked, her teasing tone unmistakable.
Lizzie rolled her eyes, resigning herself to her mother's playful misunderstanding. "Forget it," she muttered, crossing her arms as she looked out the window.
---
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Martha was washing the last of the lunch dishes when she heard rapid footsteps.
She looked up, just in time to see Desmond burst into the room, his face lit up with excitement.
"Mom! I… I awakened a gift!" he shouted, barely able to contain himself.
Martha raised a brow, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. "Slow down, honey," she said gently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."
Desmond nodded, still buzzing with energy. "Okay, so… I was lying down for a bit, and then I woke up and saw these ants crawling on the wall." He gestured wildly, his words coming out in a rush.
"And I just… I bent my finger like I was pulling a trigger, and the next thing I knew, a pistol appeared in my hand!"
He paused, catching his breath as he watched his mother's reaction, her expression shifting from concern to astonishment.
"A pistol? Just like that?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief… and pride.
The disbelief was understandable; no one in the thirty-three years of humanity's war against the Eaters had ever awakened a gift after their sixteenth birthday.
Yet, pride also shone in her eyes, because she knew Desmond wouldn't lie about something this important. Her son had achieved what no one else had in decades.
"Yes! It was real, Mom. Solid and everything!" Desmond's grin widened, his excitement spilling over.
[If I didn't know any better, I'd believe him too] Kenny chimed, amused as it observed Desmond's performance with his mother.
Martha, clearly trying to process everything, stopped mid-dishwash.
"Do you have an idea what kind of gift you've awakened?" she asked, clearly trying to keep her own excitement in check. "If we know, it would make the identification process at the City Council much smoother."
Knowing that revealing too much could raise suspicions, Desmond carefully kept his response vague. "From what I can tell, it seems related to summoning different kinds of weapons."
"That's amazing, Desmond! A gift like that has so much potential in combat." Martha's smile grew, a wave of relief passing over her face.
She looked like she'd been holding some pain for a while now, fearing that her choice had hurt her son's future. "Alright, get ready. We'll be heading to the Council in twenty minutes."
"Sure, Mom." He hesitated, putting on an expression of concern as he added, "But, Mom… will I be, you know… experimented on? Since I awakened two months after my birthday?"
He injected a note of worry into his voice, playing up the role of fearful uncertainty now that he'd convincingly pulled off shock and excitement.
Martha pulled him into a brief hug, reassuring him. "Don't worry, honey. Your dad and I would never let that happen. And as long as everything goes smoothly with your identification process, there won't be any reason for anyone to interfere."
Desmond nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Okay, Mom. Thanks."
"Go on, now. Get ready," she said, gently steering him out of the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, Desmond found himself seated in the car beside Martha as they left their apartment complex, weaving through the familiar streets of their estate.
He looked out the window, watching as people wrapped in heavy coats and scarves hurried along the sidewalks, their breath visible in the crisp morning air, and their faces obscured against the chill.
Overhead, military drones zipped through the sky in rhythmic flight, their lights blinking in sync as they completed their patrol.
The security feels so much tighter in person than it did reading about it, Desmond thought, a twinge of unease creeping in as he studied the scene.
And it all feels real, noticing how people moved briskly to their destinations, he mused.
Even the streets seemed alive with purpose, a pulse of resilience in a world constantly threatened by Eaters.
On one corner, he saw two police officers patrolling with a large, sleek dog. The animal's nose was low to the ground, its movements sharp and alert as it scanned for any signs of Eaters infiltrating the city.
Glancing past his mom, he noticed more civilians moving through the city streets, some heading to work, others perhaps returning home.
In novels, cities do keep moving on even when the characters aren't present, he mused. Plans unfold, battles happen, people make fortunes and lose them. But unless the author chooses to tell those stories, they stay hidden.