The bank was soft under the soles of her shoes. She memorized the trail, every outstretched branch, every gnarled root and mossy patch. The lake to her left whizzed by, throwing shadowed movements in her peripherals. But her focus was the few moments of time and space ahead of her. Everything else was background noise. Running had been the only thing she had really been good at. Better even than Max. Those angel wings and healing powers made him majestic, but he was no match for her on the ground. Though tall for her age, Gabby made sure she was in top shape, which gave her the advantage of beating people up, especially boys with baseballs. Wisps of hair rimmed her face, and she absently blew it out of her eyes. She had begged Max to let her cut it. He was adamant, scared even, when he told her no. “Gabby,” he had said in his most sincere voice, “we are not...normal.” Yeah, nothing new there.
