"Ok, they're out of the way," Cate said bluntly. "So, what is it that you wanted to ask me? Or would you rather I just start talking?"

"Just tell me what you know. Don't hold anything back this time," I said.

"There isn't much to tell. I was hoping you'd have some of the answers yourself, but I'm beginning to believe you really are as confused as I am."

"Wonderful. Well, this is the first time I even noticed anything. I'm almost afraid to ask, but what have I been doing?"

"Well, it's not anything glaring really, just little discrepancies that everyone so far has been content to shrug off and forget."

"Except you," I countered.

"Yes, except me. But, I haven't answered your question yet. Let's see, some of what I've seen, I've already told you or you've noticed yourself today. Well, for one thing, you always know the names of people you've never met or been introduced to, and for another, you know things about people that they've never told to anyone. What you told me at lunch today verifies the rest."

We sat in silence while I contemplated what she had said.

"If this were a comic book," I mused, "I'd have learned all about my mysterious past in the previous episode and saved the world from some impeding evil megapower by now. What a disappointment. I still live at home, and there really aren't any good arch-villains to contract for the role of opposing me."

"Well, if your super power is your smart-alecky nature, you could have a real career on Jeopardy," Cate said slyly and wiggled her eyebrows. She grew serious though, and sipped her tea thoughtfully. "I believe everything happens for a reason, good or bad. It's all part of God's plan."

"I don't believe in God, and I certainly don't have any plan myself," I said shortly. I tried not to snap, but Cate's eyes revealed the old pain again. Cate has this unshakable faith in the divine that I've never seen anyone else have. She doesn't doubt or question; she accepts. My denial always hits her hard, but she'll never voice as much aloud. I can't change my ideology to smooth over our friendship, and even if I did, she wouldn't respect it as a free choice. I'm sure she sends up more than a few prayers to the great expanse above in the hopes that I might find God.

Which leads me to a point, one I often make with Cate. Who is this God person, and why does this person care? Related to this is the following question that I believe the most people, including myself, cite as a reason to no longer practice their faith. How do we know anyone is up there listening (a valid if subjective question)? Cate can't give me the answers I'm looking for, but I don't fault her for that. It's not her job to bring me back to my religion. That's mine, and it's one I'm not interested in pursuing for now. Hence my curt replies and the pain I always inflict unconsciously on Cate.

"Look," I said, "I don't mean to keep hurting you, but you have to learn to deflect such comments or you're going to get burnt out before you're even twenty."

Cate smiled slowly, and nodded ever so slightly. "I'm just very sensitive on the topic. I know God exists, and I know God has some great purpose for me. I just wish God would let me in on the big secret."

"Well, if you insist," I said. "So, we're getting sidetracked again. What were we talking about?"

"Super-villains, I believe."

For the next half hour or so, while Cate started making dinner, we picked apart the weaknesses of super-villains in comics, movies and books. It wasn't really hard, but the never-ending stupidity is fun to laugh at. I would help with making dinner, but Cate has a very low estimation of my cooking skills.

"Hey," I countered after a particularly vicious attack, "I'll have you know I make dinner for my mum several days a week, and she never minds."

Cate sighed and turned towards me, wielding a wooden spatula. "Sera, your mother isn't entirely with the rest of us on this planet. You could probably serve her just about anything, as long as it was edible, and she would eat it."

I frowned, and didn't respond. It was true. My mother has not been herself, not since my father left us. Too many years of pain. I don't think she even really recognizes me anymore.

"Sera," Cate prodded gently, "she needs help. You can't handle this all on your own. She needs serious medical help. It's not healthy to shut yourself out from the world like that everyday."

That's Cate, always trying to help. "I've tried that. I've even made appointments for her, but I can't force her to go. I can't argue with her either. She just drifts off in the middle of our conversations and her eyes start wandering. I don't think she knows who I am anymore."

Cate's eyes closed for a minute, and she wrapped her arms around herself, lost in thought. "I believe that if you keep trying, you can get her to go. You need to find something that will reach her. She's too far away for you to handle just now."

"I know. I don't really want to talk about it though," I finally retorted and Cate straightened immediately.

"Alright, I know, touchy subject. Sorry." Cate turned back to the stove and stared at it in silence for a few awkward minutes before speaking up again. "Well, the lasagna is almost done. Would you go check on Molly and Kevin for me? They should be waking up by now."

I nod, realize the futility of making such gestures when she obviously isn't looking my way, and tell her the same in as many words. Molly is still out cold, but her brother is already awake and very talkative. I gently pick Molly up from her bed and carry her downstairs. Kevin tags along, eyes wide, one arm always holding onto my pants leg or my hand when he absently reaches for it and meets it. By the time we return downstairs, Cate is putting on the finishing touches, and Ben walks in the door, obviously exhausted and followed closely behind by Amanda and Roger.

Dinner is the usual noisy affair. Cate's parents still aren't home, but neither Cate nor Ben seem very surprised. Cate's parents both work all the time. Either they just don't like being at home very much, or they're just old-fashioned enough to believe that a parent's first obligation is to provide financial security for their children.

When dinner's over, Ben clears the table and does the dishes while Amanda and Roger find a captive audience in me relating what they did at the park. I realize most people only listen to humor their children, but I find it fascinating. Of course, I'm supposed to be reevaluating myself now for potential clues. To what, exactly, I'm still not sure, but Cate insists I try, so I will. In that light, it might be a little odd that even the most mundane accounts put me in thrall when delivered with the right "punch." I just really love little kids. They have some of the most interesting outlooks on things. Parents and adults don't give them enough credit.

Molly and Kevin are up to their usual tricks, which means they're complete nuisances. By the time Cate's parents finally arrive home, I know it's time for me to go. They thank for me coming over, and for looking out for the kids. They're nice enough folk, but they both work insanely long hours just to support their family.

It's not a long walk from Cate's house, but my thoughts were troubled, and the time passed into eternity. Only yesterday, I had scoffed at Cate's words and now, here I was, confronted by something outside my experience. I shiver as a chill wind blows through my hair, and for the first time, I realize I am afraid. Afraid of the dark, afraid of what Cate's words could mean for me, and afraid of what I will wake up to in the morning.

It's all very well and good for super heroes to battle on comic book pages and in saturday morning cartoons, but I didn't ask for this. I don't want to be different. Well, not significantly. I thought being different meant dressing out of fashion or reading too many books. I start laughing when I realize that no one but Cate will ever believe me. I'm almost hysterical, unable to stop as I sag into a staircase banister. The people walking by all give me a look, but no one stops or asks me if I'm alright. I know they think I'm drunk, crazy or even dangerous, and the thought finally sobers me into silence. I resume my walk in silence, eyes not quite focused ahead.

It isn't long before I find myself snug under the covers in bed, but no sleep comes. I'm afraid to let myself relax, but I don't know why. It's a losing battle, though, and I can feel my willpower fading as weariness overtakes me. Finally, my last thread of consciousness slips away, and I'm dreaming.

The headaches are getting worse now, and the doctors are baffled. Their prognosis is grim. Whatever the cause, these headaches will spell my death. Cate sits down on the foot of my bed and takes my hand, just as another migraine seizes me and makes me scream in pain. Something's not right, but the pain makes it hard to think. Then I have it. I don't know anyone named Cate. That's Beth, my sister, beside me. So why can't I help but think her eyes are the wrong color? The world dims.

I wake up to the smell of cinnamon toast. The room is still dark, but I find my way into my slippers and out the door. I follow my nose into the kitchen, where our cook has left me breakfast. She's in her usual place at the other end of the table darning socks. I am disoriented for a moment when I realize the table is almost as high as I am, but the eerie feeling passes and I climb up into the waiting chair anyway and dig in. A small boy walks in from the garden door, and I wave happily at him and shout out "Hello there, Cate."

The boy frowned suddenly. "You take that back, I'm not a girl. My name's Brian."

I stare at him openly as the scene shifts again and those same eyes are fixed on mine from behind a visor. Or rather, I'm behind the visor, and the eyes belong to a young woman. She must have been crying, because her eyes are bloodshot and she keeps threatening me with a handkerchief.

"Gregory, if you don't come back, I'll never forgive you. I'll...I'll...I'll curse every bone in your body. You're the only friend I have in this world, and father has threatened to marry me to someone three times my age. You're the only one he listens to."

By this point, I'm starting to put the pieces together. I'm dreaming, I know, but the only pattern I've recognized so far is the recurring pair of eyes that haunts each "lifetime." When the scene changes again abruptly, I'm ready for it. The scenes are shifting more rapidly now, and I can tell I'm traveling into the past, not by mere steps, but by leaps and bounds. I don't think I want to know where I'll end up at the end. I'm still waiting for it when a loud ringing noise startles me awake and out of bed.

I'm sweating, breathing hard, and completely disoriented. The silence is deafening, and the ringing that woke me resounds in my ears. It's a Saturday, so the noise wouldn't have been my alarm clock. I nearly jump out of my skin when the telephone rings again. Of course. I scramble out of bed and tumble into the kitchen. I grope wildly at the handset until my numb fingers finally connect, and I put the phone to my ear, only to be greeted by Cate's booming voice. My tired brain tries to follow and gives up all in one instant.

"Cate? What are you talking about? No, I just woke up. Start over."

Cate was silent for a minute before she began again, much slower this time. "I said, my mother has the weekend off after all, so I have permission to come over. Do you still got that old TV? No, I know you do. I'll be over with my video games in a few, after I eat breakfast. I bet you thought I was letting you off easy last night, don't cha? Ha! Think again!"

"You're evil, Cate, no doubt about it," I tell her. I can almost see her soaking in my inadvertent praise. Or maybe I actually am watching her, I realize with a start. "Err, Cate?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you wearing a green shirt?" I guessed.

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason," I assured her. "I'll go get ready. If I don't answer the door right away, assume I'm in my bedroom getting dressed."

"Alright then. See you in a few."

"Yup, later." I hang up the phone and stare at it blindly. For just a brief moment, I had caught a glimpse of Cate sitting on her bed with a telephone in one hand, intent on reading an instruction manual for something in her other hand. I'll know in a few minutes how much of that was my imagination and how much was real when I see what she's wearing.