I woke, blinking in confusion. What a freaky dream! Wait, where was I now? “Ugh.” I was floating, my face mashed against my bedroom ceiling. Great, I’d drooled on it again.

I concentrated on grounding my feet. But when I maneuvered my body from horizontal to vertical, my sweats slipped clean off.

Oh, no. I must’ve lost ten, maybe even twenty pounds! Outside, the sun had set—my parents were going to be home any minute now!

All the girls at school were so concerned with losing weight. I needed it. I yanked up my sweats, cinching the tie tight, then weakly hobbled down the stairs to the kitchen.

I hit the fridge first, assessing the contents. I guzzled a gallon of whole milk, then a quart of flavored coffee creamer (my mom’s favorite, but desperate times). Then I noshed my way through a package of cookie dough.

The pantry was next. I choked down a jar of peanut butter—no time for a spoon; I scooped it out with my fingers. Then I popped open a can of macadamia nuts, tucked the rim against my mouth, and tipped the can up, gobbling down its contents.

Potato chips. More peanut butter. An entire blueberry pie (Dad’s favorite). A pint of ice cream. A six-pack of my parents’ Ensure.

Slowly my body took on flesh again. Need more. . . .

I was microwaving a frozen lasagna while inhaling another pint of ice cream when my parents walked in.

Dad murmured, “What the . . . ?”

My goopy fingers hovered at my mouth. I gazed around, seeing the scene from their eyes. All the cabinet doors were open. The refrigerator too. Empty jars and bottles were strewn all over the kitchen. Milk spattered the floor and the front of my T-shirt.

Eyes watering, Mom sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “Tess, we’re going to get you help.” She removed her glasses to dab at her tears.

Dad stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Tomorrow we’re taking you to a facility for teens with eating problems.”

No, no. I had to be in school tomorrow. I was going to get my first kiss! “I don’t have an eating problem.” I swiped my face with the back of my hand. Chocolate, peanut butter, and blueberry came away.

“It’s perfectly natural to deny it, honey,” Mom said. “They told us you would. You’re just going to have to trust us.”

Dad’s eyes grew misty too. “Miracle, we love you. You know you’re our entire world. We can get through anything together.”

Past Mom and Dad, movement caught my attention. Lights were flickering in the night sky.

I frowned. Were those the kind of burning lights the Kenyan had faced? Beware the lights. I dropped the ice cream on the floor. “Mom, Dad, we need to get into the tornado shelter. Now!”

“What are you talking about, Tess?” Dad asked, turning to follow my gaze toward the window. “You guys, just look at that!” He sounded hypnotized. “It’s the aurora borealis.”

Mom stood and turned. “My word, it’s spectacular!”

As if in a trance, they headed toward the foyer.

“No!” I rushed after them, but slipped in food, face-planting. “Oomph! W-wait . . .” I sucked in a breath. “The lights are dangerous! We have to get in the shelter!”

As I scrambled up, I heard the front door open. By the time I’d caught up to them, they were standing outside, transfixed.

I kept my gaze down, afraid I’d be mesmerized too. “Please come back inside with me!” Some kind of roar sounded. The Kenyan had warned of that too. Surely this was a twister coming?

I grabbed my parents’ arms, yanking on them, but I was weak, still exhausted from using my powers. My folks didn’t budge. “Please, I am begging you to come with me!”

The air kept getting hotter. I dared a glance up—just to the horizon. Over the plains came another kind of light, as if the sun were rising. My parents didn’t see it, were too hypnotized by the aurora.

Rays blazed, then . . . a giant ball of flames seared everything in its reach—and it was heading for us!

Armageddon. It had to be.

Tears welled at the sight; I shook worse than I ever had. “Mommy! Daddy! P-please.” The fire hurtled toward us, but they wouldn’t move.

No time to get them to safety.

Could I teleport with my parents? Or go intangible with them, like the Kenyan had with that woman?

I forced myself to close my eyes—though the freaking apocalypse was bearing down on us!—and concentrated on picturing my staff. Then I imagined the three of us were atoms among other atoms, just floating around in the ether.

I opened my eyes. My parents were in that blurry place with me! I glanced past them—the wave of burning light was about to hit! Mom screamed. Dad tried to shield us.

I cried out when it passed through us. The house was an instant inferno, windows shattering. The wave was so vast, we were still engulfed in fire.

We needed to get underground, to the shelter! I imagined us teleporting there. Teleporting . . . traversing . . . crossing physical space . . .

Nothing.

Mom craned her head around, asking me, “Wh-what’s happening?”

Dad turned to me, rasping, “Did we die, Miracle?”

I shook my head. “I’m trying . . . to keep you safe.” Nobody would be dying if I had anything to say about it!

“Keep us safe? Oh, honey”—he sounded horrified—“you’re so thin!”

I peeked at my arms. They were like sticks. I only had so much fat stored.

Mom gasped. “Why are you losing weight? Whatever you’re doing—stop!”