D - Truth Thyme

The next morning, the cycle of walking along a roadside followed by
a short ride in a strange car began, a cycle that seemed eternal. After
too many abrupt halts, demands of "Get Out!", her mother took her aside
to talk while her father stood at road's edge.

"Thyme, sweetheart, we need you to do something for us. You don't like
the walking, do you?"

The long, red hair, glinting gold in the sharp rays obscurred her
solemn eyes as Thyme shook her head. Gently, her mother brushed the
strands of fire from her face, looking her in the eye, something others
could not stand for longer than a few seconds.

"You know that some people get upset when you look at them. Your gift
frightens some people. So I need you to concentrate on looking out the
side windows. Okay?"

Thyme nodded. What else could she do? She hadn't meant to frighten
anyone. They wer all just so . . . new.

The next few days were a blur of fast moing scenery, green hills to
gray rocks to beige sand. The festival site was a relief of bright
colors and sounds, full of people who dressed like her parents, in a
riot of bright patterns. It was the first time she could remember her
parents blending in with any group.

But the relief was short lived. Before that afternoon faded, people
were pointing again, peering at her, then quickly moving away. Her
father yelled again; her mother cried again. Thyme knew the truth, for
good this time, and lost hope.