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off.
    Still, the
Ka-poosh noise didn’t stop. I turned from the window and slumped
against the wall. I shut my eyes tight as more sounds crashed
against my eardrums -- my father snoring…a dog barking…the fridge
running…a screen door slamming…
    My eyes shot
open. Dad’s asleep so why would the back door be closing? My
brows mashed together. Wait. He doesn’t have a screen door. It was one of those metal doors with the fancy rainbow glass. Maybe the neighbors?
    Heart pounding
against my ribs, each rapid beat reverberated inside my skull, like
church bells. My head hurt like hell. Last night’s thunderstorm
fiasco came flooding back. The creepy mine, the weird blue skin,
Mom and Dad’s fight, and the exhaustion.
    Too tired to
notice pretty much anything. Maybe I’d caught a cold. Ear
infection? I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose.
No pressure or congestion. I feel good, like I’ve slept ten
hours instead of three. I snorted but stopped instantly, the
noise seemed to scream into my hearing canal. Well, my body
feels rested . My head feels like a train wreck between the
ears. I plugged my ears.
    Ka-poosh!
    I marched out
of the room, determined to find whoever was responsible for the
annoying sound. I trudged through Dad’s entire backsplit, nearly
falling down when I got to the bottom of the basement stairs. The ka-poosh noise became clearer. I yanked the bathroom door
open, not giving a crap who might be inside. About to yell, my
voice froze in my throat.
    No drill or
jackhammer here either, but the noise was deafening. Plugging my
ears again, I walked to the shower. “Holy crap.” I jumped back,
surprised that even my voice sounded way too loud to my poor ears.
The stall stood vacant, but the faucet hadn’t been completely shut
off. Water dripped from the showerhead, making the distinctive ka-poosh sound.
    How in the
world did I hear that tiny drip from upstairs in my bed? How’d
it wake me up? As I realized the sound, it blended in with the
other noises of the house. Distinct, but everything else I heard
seemed to be fighting for attention inside my head. I could even
hear Dad snoring three floors up. I’m like a bloody animal. If
someone blows one those dog whistles I’ll probably hear it and
start howling.
    Cranking the
faucet tight, my thoughts drifted back to the mine. I never planned
on stepping foot inside there again… ever. Ear wax. I
grabbed two Q-tips and tried clearing my ears out. It sounded like
a river rushing though my head. The tips came away barely dirty. What the --?
    I pushed the
rising panic aside and tossed the tips in the garbage can. I tugged
at my ear lobes as I made my way up the stairs. I needed some Advil
and breakfast. Hopefully, that would clear my headache and my
hypersensitive ears.
    Once inside the
slightly clinical-feeling, chrome-filled kitchen, I popped waffles
into the toaster. After setting my plate as quietly as I could on
the little breakfast bar in the middle of the room, I swung open
the fridge to grab syrup. I squawked when a high pitched urrrr
sound grated in the air. Grimacing, I whirled around to trail the
sound. Toaster . There must’ve been some kind of short in it.
I jerked the cord from the wall, my shoulders instantly relaxing. I
hadn’t even noticed they’d tensed up.
    I stared at my
white knuckles gripping the edge of the counter. Something’s so
wrong. I could tune into every sound in the house…and I mean
all of it, on every floor, and outside. Focus, Zoe. You can
control this. You tune Mom and Dad out all the time.
    I shut my eyes,
attempting to squash the building panic inside. Except closing my
eyes only enhanced my hearing into super sonic radars. I couldn’t
control it. My eye lids popped up at a sudden thought. No human
can possibly hear with such clarity without help.
    My chest
swelled and stiffened, ready to explode. The tightness crept up my
throat. I flipped around, leaning against the counter and stared at
everything. The