“A cup of chamomile and some melatonin usually does the trick for me,” my dad said, completely oblivious. I’m so grateful that my dad is just plain old telekinetic. I don’t know if my mom and Aaron were using their powers in that moment, but I think their abilities have just given them heightened perception across the board. Especially with my mom, I’ve never been able to get away with anything. I’m honestly surprised, and a little proud, that I’ve been able to keep what’s been going on with me a secret this whole time. And I’m really wishing that I had kept on that path instead of opening my big mouth.

“Uh, no,” I said, “I’m not having a hard time getting to sleep, I’m…”

I swallowed, my dad now joining the cadre of narrowed eyes. Suddenly, I felt like I was sitting in front of a council of judges—three Atypicals prepared to bestow their verdict on the puny, normal human.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought.

“So … I’m pretty sure I have narcolepsy.”

My mom’s fork clattered against her plate as she dropped it and brought her hands up, leaning her elbows on the table and collapsing her head forward into her hands.

“I thought we’d gotten away with it,” she mumbled into her palms.

“What?” Aaron and I both asked.

“How long has this been going on, Rose?” my dad asked.

“Um, I don’t know, a few weeks,” I said absentmindedly, still confused by what my mom had said.

“A few weeks?” my mom exclaimed, bringing her head out of her hands to stare me down. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t understand,” I said, trying not to let their reaction rile me up. “What did you think you’d gotten away with?”

Then my parents shared the kind of look that only parents can share. The look that says a million things in a single second that only they understand.

“You’ve been doing so well, Rose,” my dad said after a few tense moments.

“Meaning…”

“Meaning,” my mom chimed in, “I know I give you a hard time about your choice of career, but it’s only because I love you. I don’t want to see you burnt out before you’re thirty.”

“No, no, that’s not what this is.” I shook my head, feeling, for a moment, like I understood what was going on.

(I did not.)

“I promise you, I’m not falling asleep because of the restaurant. I don’t feel more tired during the day or anything, I’ve just … passed out a few times—”