Color-Gifted (Color-Gifted, #1)

Chapter Fifteen

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next day Neveah comes to class, to my relief. We’re put in the same group as last time: Jerry, Dwayne, Neveah and me. I missed yesterday’s class when I’d gone after Neveah, but Jerry filled me in on their first attempts at healing animals, and it hadn’t gone well. The other two groups had done fairly well and had managed to heal their wounded animals completely—even though neither team managed to fully heal the scar on their cat’s thigh.

Which is more than can be said about our group. Jerry and Dwayne did almost nothing to heal Jenny’s leg. In the end, Christopher had to heal her for them.

Today we’re working on a new cat, this one older and bigger than Jenny. Her white-gray fur is matted in places, and one of her ears is split open at the top—an old wound, already healed. Even laying there on the thick blanket, her belly rising and falling slowly, she has that street-smart air about her. The kind of cat who lives a tough life, and is used to it. She’s got an injured paw, possibly due to a car, as we’re informed. Christopher removes the bandages for easier access and introduces her as “Bana”.

“Like the actor?” Dwayne sniggers.

“No.” He smiles. “Like the fruit. Our colleagues at the shelter found her sleeping on a pile of rotting bananas—thus, the name.”

I like how he says our colleagues, like we’re all equals in the Color-gifted world. Like he doesn’t have over twenty years experience on us, or can probably do things we can’t even imagine.

Beside me, Neveah sits quietly. She hasn’t seemed to have heard Dwayne’s little joke. I notice his eyes flit towards her after he says it, but she doesn’t see. Her gaze is focused on some invisible point beyond Jerry’s head, and once again, I wonder what I can do to help her.

This time, thankfully, Christopher doesn’t choose her to begin. Instead he picks Jerry. “Come on, Jerry,” he says genially. “Give it a go.”

Jerry nods his shaggy dark head. “Okay.” He looks at Bana,  still dozing on the ground between us—a bit warily. He closes his eyes for a moment and concentrates. Like before, I can feel green energy coming to him. Only where with Christopher and even Keith, it was smooth and fluid, with Jerry it’s choppier, like static gathering, fuzz pulling together in disordered, rugged tufts.

After a few moments he opens his eyes and raises his hand above Bana’s injured paw. I see a spark of green energy leap from his hand into her foot, but immediately I can tell it’s not good enough. The light dies out quickly. Bana barely twitches.

Christopher smiles at him encouragingly. “That’s not bad for your second try. I can feel that you numbed the feeling in her paw.”

“It’s hard, harder than with plants. Really different.”

Christopher nods with satisfaction. “It’s very promising that you can note the difference. There’s hope for you yet.”

A small smile plays on Jerry’s lips. “Okay, Coach. Thanks.”