The Many Faces of Tully

I wander the roads of the town. I find a tattoo parlor and go in. They have no customers. The tattoo artist looks up at me when I enter. He smiles at me. He is covered in tattoos.

“What can I do for you?” he asks.

“I need a panther. Right here.” I lift up my left arm and point at the inside of my bicep.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Don’t you think you’re taking this school spirit thing a little too far, sweetheart?” he asks me.

“I don’t go to school here,” is all I say.

“All right. Let me draw that up for you.” He sighs. I sit down in a chair and wait. I take out my mirror.

My hair is in brown ringlets. I have chocolate brown eyes, and they make me think of the originals. My face is perfectly clear. My bottom lip is full and my top lip isn’t. I have high cheek bones and my nose turns up ever so slightly at the end. I look intense. When I keep my face straight I have a look of apathy and arrogance about me. Good. People might take me seriously and stay away from me.

I look out the window and freeze. I see Hutsi and Zazu walking on the sidewalk searching for me. I stare at them, afraid they’ll see me and know it’s me. Zazu turns and looks right at me. I stare back. He looks away and keeps walking with Hutsi down the street.

I let out the air I was holding. They didn’t know. I’m safe. I don’t want them to find me. I don’t belong with them. I’m dangerous. I’m a murderer. None of them has killed anyone on accident with their powers. I am the black sheep in more than one way.

“All right, sweetheart. How do you like this?” I stand up and look at the drawing. It’s amazing. I nod at him. “All right. Let’s get to work.” He takes a copy of my ID and makes me sign the papers. Almost two hours later I have a black panther lounging on the inside of my arm. I pay him and walk out.

I bump into Mirage.

“I’m sorry miss,” he says in his French accent. He hardly even looks at me.

My powers protect me. I smile when he walks away. It’s like they’re searching for a needle in a haystack, but they have no idea what the needle looks like. I look like every other piece of hay in this town. They’ll never find me.

I cross the street quickly and hitch my purse further up my arm. I see Haides and Toshi talking to a group of people to my left. I smile again. No one knows me. This is going to be too simple. And then I bump into someone when I hit the sidewalk again.

It’s Jace. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?” he asks me. I nod, and try to walk away. “Tully?” he asks me. I make a face, and then face him and put a small smile on my lips.

“I’m sorry. I think you have me confused with someone else.” I try to turn but he catches my arm.

“I know it’s you Tully,” he says to me. “Don’t try to pretend.”

I yank my arm from him. “I’m really sorry. You seriously have me pegged for the wrong person. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I try to walk away again but he steps in front of me.

“How many times have I seen you explode? How many times have I studied your videos? I couldn’t help but notice that there are a few things about you that never change, Tully.” He’s looking me right in the eye. He knows it’s me.

“I hate how perceptive you are,” I grumble at him. He smiles.

“So why are you hiding? Why are you trying to run?” he asks me, his eyes blazing.

“I don’t belong with you guys,” I admit, ashamed.

“Why do you say that?” He folds his arms over his chest. I stare at his forearms and answer him.

“I’m the black sheep. All of you can control your powers, I can’t. I’m too dangerous.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks. I can picture how he’s looking at me. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes alight, lips puckered slightly.

“I’m a murderer. I’m the only one who has killed someone on accident with my powers,” I say to his shoes.

“No you’re not,” he says simply. I finally look up at him. I don’t understand the look in his eyes. Sympathy? Understanding?

“Oh yeah? Who did that? Gunther? Nash?” I say skeptically.

“Me.” His eyes don’t leave mine. I know he’s telling the truth.

How can that be true though? Jace heals. He doesn’t kill. He gives life. He doesn’t take it. I just stare at him. I don’t understand.

“How…” I try to say, but he cuts me off.

“Let’s go somewhere and I’ll tell you.” He looks up and down the street nervously.

“All right,” I consent quietly.

He grabs my hand and pulls me down the street and finds a random bar. He finds us a table in an empty place in the bar and then orders us two beers. I stare at him expectantly.

“I’ll tell you on one condition,” he says. I frown.

“We didn’t agree to that,” I argue.

“I’m making you agree to it now. It’s going to be hard for me to say. No one knows this, so if I’m going to be telling you something personal, you have to tell me something personal first,” he negotiates.

“First?” I complain.

“Yes.” He doesn’t bat an eye.

I frown again. I can’t find a way around his negotiation. If I want to know, then I have to tell him something about me, and I’m betting I know what he’s going to ask.

“Fine,” I cave. He smiles triumphantly.

“Tell me the stories behind everything. The necklace, the earring, the tattoos. All of them.” I wonder if he’s as curious as I am. I wonder if he is dreading telling me, like I’m dreading telling him. But we both want to know the others secret so bad that we are willing to share our own.

I sigh and start talking.