The only thing twelve-year-old Indigo Lightner really wants is to be normal. Yet, this seems very unlikely for a girl who communicates with trees, heals with her hands, and reads others thoughts and feelings by the color of light surrounding them. Her mother wants her to stop her imaginary nonsense and act normal. But because Indigo’s highly sensitive nervous system has her in constant sensory overload, she has minimal control over her odd behavior, eliciting the mockery of peers, frustration of teachers, her mother’s disapproval, and her own self-judgment and doubt. Until one day, an incident occurs in the middle school cafeteria, leading Indigo to discover that Dayton Smith, the teen next door, also possesses special powers.
Dayton reveals to Indigo that they are both integral players in a divine plan, devised by beings of a higher realm to save the Earth from the forces of darkness. Together, they embark on a fantastic journey, traveling on the backs of their magical Gris Gris flyers to the realm of Mictlan, where they meet other gifted children from indigenous cultures all over the globe.

Streams of white light shot out of each fingertip nearly ten feet in front of her, hitting the pavement of the parking lot and sending tiny pebbles flying. She spun around and began walking toward the door. Dayton, whom she had forgotten was there, took a few steps alongside her. “Where are you going?” Indigo pointed to the cafeteria. “I’m gonna make them pay!” He grabbed her hand, stopping her and said, “What are you going to do?” She pulled her hand away from him and spoke through clenched teeth, “I’m gonna burn them with my hands.” Dayton’s blue eyes narrowed as he leaned in close to her whispering, “What happened to you in there?” He probed her with his eyes. “Did you absorb their anger? Is that it?” She took a step toward the door. “Indigo, you don’t want to do that; trust me.” “Why?” She turned back to face him. “I have nothing to lose. No one likes me here.” Indigo swept her arms in a gesture to imply that the whole school was included in her comment. “So you want to choose to be mean and hurt people too because they chose to be mean and hurt you? Is that it? You want to choose anger instead of forgiveness?” The words came into Indigo’s mind in Dayton’s voice, but he had not moved his lips. Indigo studied his face. How did he do that? she thought. “Just like you sent that energy from your hands,” Dayton responded aloud. “I just can!” “Why did you do it to me?” Indigo asked. “Because you need to listen to me,” Dayton said and pointed a thin finger in her face and then a thumb at himself. “I have something very important to tell you.” You can really hear what I’m thinking? “Yes,” Dayton answered. “You can hear what everyone is thinking?” she asked out loud. “Yes,” he answered. Indigo’s legs went soft. She no longer had the urgent feeling to seek revenge. She needed a place to sit and moved to the brick wall of the school. Pressing her back up against the warm bricks, the remainder of the burning feeling inside of her ran out of her like the air from a deflating balloon and she sat down, cross-legged. Her arms fell limp in her lap and she hung her head, fighting back tears. “You okay?” Dayton asked as he crouched down beside her and rested on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t need you to save me in there,” Indigo said without looking up. When Dayton didn’t say anything further, she looked at him. In a single flash through his light eyes, Indigo saw the shine of peace and love that she rarely saw in others. He looked away as if he knew she could read him. Indigo looked him over. He was thin, so thin that his blue T-shirt looked two sizes too big for him, but a healthy thin, not skinny or sickly. Indigo’s mother would have called him gangly. His shirt was tattered around the collar, obviously a hand-me-down. His thick, shiny blond hair hung long, past his shirt collar. Dayton nodded and held up both hands. “Okay! But what were you doing with those guys?” Indigo leaned her head back against the wall and exhaled. “Phyllis and Polly came to my locker this morning. They told me that Joel liked me. They gave me a note from him. So I was going to tell him so he could deal with them!” Dayton was quiet. Her stomach started hurting, so she sat forward and pulled her knees to her chest. The warm, spring sun felt good on her face, soothing like the energy from the Climb. As her body began to relax, the reality of what just happened began to sink in. She could shoot light or something from her hands! And Dayton could hear people’s thoughts! She only wished now that Dayton had not seen her so angry. So, I’m not the only weirdo after all? She thought. “No, there are seven of us that I know about,” Dayton answered her thoughts. And when she turned to face him, he looked down at the pavement and grinned knowing she was looking at him. Indigo slapped his arm. “Would you cut it out already?” she asked. “Can we just talk out loud?” Dayton looked at her. His clear eyes reflected the sun, and Indigo saw specks of green and yellow in the blue, like the kaleidoscope she had as a child. He ran his fingers through his hair and scanned the sky as if he were asking it what to say next. “Who else knows about your powers?” he asked. “My grandma, my cousin Sam, and my mom,” Indigo said exhaling. “Well, most of my family knew when I was younger but no one talks about it anymore. I haven’t talked to them about it for a long time. Why? What do you have to tell me?” Dayton turned suddenly to look at the door. He put his finger to his mouth. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered. “Are you going to catechism tomorrow?” “Yeah. Why?” Indigo asked. “Figure out a way to get out of class around eleven. I’ll find you,” Dayton said. “How?” she asked. But he didn’t get a chance to answer. Mr. Price, the music teacher, came around the corner of the building and almost stepped on Dayton. “What is going on here?” Mr. Price said, lifting his bony arms in question. Like an ostrich, his beak nose pointed out from his thin face, his skinny neck grew long from a round midsection, and the hair on the top of his head stood up like a tuft of downy feathers. “You two havin’ a private study hall?” He bobbed his head forward, as though pecking for an answer. When neither spoke he peeped out over his nose at Dayton and then Indigo. “What are you doing outside the building?” He lifted his chin waiting for an answer. “Indigo got sick in the cafeteria,” Dayton lied, his face straight. “She needs to go to the nurse, I think.” Mr. Price stepped in between Dayton and Indigo. He leaned in toward Dayton’s face. “Oh, and you are her hero, Smith, is that it?” He looked over his shoulder at Indigo and shook his thumb at Dayton. “You picked a real winner here, Lightner.” Indigo held her breath as Mr. Price turned back to Dayton and raised his arm. But instead of hitting Dayton, Mr. Price pointed in his face and said, “Get to the principal, Smith. This is the second time today I’ve caught you out of class without a pass.” Then he turned to Indigo. “Go to the nurse and get checked out.” Nobody moved. “Go!” Mr. Price pointed past Dayton toward the principal’s office. Dayton turned and began walking, slowly, back inside. Indigo watched him go. Even though his jeans were too small, his sneakers ripped at the seams, and he had the power to hear other people’s thoughts, Dayton walked with his head high, like he was proud to be different. And as she walked down the long hallway toward the nursing office, she pulled her shoulders back a little and held her head up too, allowing the grin that was spreading across her face, to break out into a genuine smile, because for the first time in her life, she was not alone in this anymore.

A native of central Pennsylvania, Tawney relocated to western North Carolina to complete her graduate work in School Psychology. For twenty years, she has worked with children and families, both in alternative and conventional treatment settings, at various programs throughout the country. She currently owns her own private practice in Asheville, NC, where she conducts psychological evaluations; specializing in assessing children with sensory processing difficulties, inattention, restlessness, and those on the autism spectrum. She shares her passion for reading, writing and playing music with her eightyear-old son, Sage, who is already writing songs and comic books of his own.