by Aaron Slade
“Have a good day, Casper,” he said. “See you at school.” He adjusted his suspenders and disappeared into thin air.
Dad was also normal. I would leave the house in a more abnormal fashion. My car was nowhere near as epic as being a teleporter or a speedster, and it didn’t help me fit in by any means– not by extra-human standards.
I poured a bowl of cereal and sat at the bar in the kitchen. The floor squeaked in the next room and I thought Uncle Jesse must be awake. I heard his morning grunts as he turned the corner into the kitchen.
Purple bags hung under his eyes from exhaustion. His messy, black hair needed to be cut and probably washed too. Wearing the same clothes I had seen him in last night– a faded white t-shirt and striped pajama bottoms– he sat at the bar with me. He never left the house. As a recluse, he only changed clothes every few days. He appeared to be in his forties, except for his face. He had a charming face that was younger with a pleasant smile. It matched his child-like, or immature, as I liked to think of it, personality.
“Feeling better after last night?” Uncle Jesse asked.
Wrong subject, I thought. I made a face that matched the fury of my thoughts and he got the hint.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Cereal,” I said. I tried to sound more pleasant. I moved the box of cereal towards him. The picture of Military soldiers on the box mocked me like a cruel joke. Joining the Military would be my only option after high school.
“What time did you go to bed?” he asked. “Whatever movie you were watching, it sounded like there was a flock of birds in your room.”
“I think I shut my eyes around three or four.” On the nights my speeding thoughts denied me sleep, I stayed up watching ancient movies. When I got home last night, all I’d wanted to do was watch a flick to take my mind off reality.
“You didn’t get much sleep then,” he stated. He shot me a disapproving look.
I gave a curt huff that sounded like a laugh. “You know, Uncle Jesse, I have parents. You can’t lecture me like they do and act half your age.” I tried to manipulate him into dropping the subject.
He looked at me with skeptic eyes, but smiled. I did my best to return the gesture, but my disappointment from the previous night overruled my attempt at a sunny expression.
“So can you guess what our neighbor Mrs. Willings was doing last night?” he asked. He gushed with the mannerisms of a gossipy girl. His new attempt at changing the subject worked better than the last.
“Are you still spying on her?” I asked in disbelief. “Mom and Dad told you to stop. Everyone deserves their privacy,” I said, quoting my parents.
“It’s not spying if I can’t help it,” he said. “If the woman went to sleep when she was supposed to I wouldn’t have to listen to her every senile thought during the night!”
As long as there were people near, there was never silence for Uncle Jesse. He heard the thoughts of everyone around him in his head. The dark circles under his eyes made me feel sorry for him. He was constantly tired because his ability prevented him from good, healthy sleep. He woke up most mornings to have breakfast with me then went back to sleep while our neighbors were at work and I was in school.
He had a smug smirk. “I guess you’re not curious then, about her actions last night?”
I shrugged my shoulders in a nonchalant manner trying to pretend I didn’t care, but he was already in my head and knew I was secretly dying to hear. Mrs. Willings’s odd behavior was often a form of entertainment for us.
“She spent the night trying to talk her cat out of a tree,” he said. “I’m surprised she didn’t wake you up. Her thoughts were even louder than her voice. Based on what she was thinking, I would hate to be her cat once she catches him.” He laughed to himself. “Can you believe she tries to talk to that cat like it understands? She’s crazy! Crazier than me even.”
I half-laughed and turned my attention back to my cereal. While Mrs. Willings demonstrated peculiar behavior at times, I couldn’t laugh at her. That cat was her only companion. Her husband died several years ago, leaving her all alone. I knew too well how it felt to be alone. Uncle Jesse knew immediately that I didn’t find as much humor in his story as he had. He tried to change the subject again.
“So what movie was that last night?” he asked. “I heard a lot of birds through our wall… and in your head.”
“It was a movie called The Birds by a guy named Hitchcock,” I said. I imagined that I was the only person in a thousand miles aware of the old, famous director. I liked all his movies.
“What was it about?” he asked. He sounded genuinely interested, despite his continuous yawning.
“A bunch of birds go berserk and start killing people,” I responded. I concentrated on my last bite of cereal, waiting to see how he would react to the overly simplistic description of the movie. I was sure he would think the film a joke.
“The people don’t fight back?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“The movie was made in the twentieth century,” I explained. “The population was about ninety percent human at that point. In fact, most people had no idea that people with extra-human traits existed at that time.”
“Someone’s been reading their history,” he joked. “I swear you and your dad are just alike.”
It was a compliment I heard from my family often. My father’s love of history was something I shared, but unlike Dad, I wouldn’t get the chance to continue my education after high school.
“How did the movie end?” Uncle Jesse asked.
“You’ll just have to watch it and see.”
“I’m not interested,” he said. He sounded smug, like he was above watching it. “It’s too unrealistic.”
I felt my eyes rolling. “What do you mean?”
“Well if a flock of birds tried to attack me…” he started.
“What? You would read their minds?” I said. “Reading the mind of a murderous flock of birds wouldn’t protect you. You would just be less surprised when they pecked you to death.” I laughed as I thought of him in the movie, getting attacked by a swarm of raging birds. He didn’t look amused.
“Mind-reading may not be the best thing for getting rid of a bunch of birds, but it keeps me safe,” he said as he poured a bowl of cereal.
He sat next to me in silence, but I stood up, put my bowl in the sink and grabbed my backpack. I knew he was reading my mind to see if he’d offended me. I thought to myself of the movie and specific scenes that I liked so he could see for himself. I watched as he pondered the way I’d interpreted the movie: the unexplained motive of the homicidal birds and the man and woman discovering their feelings for each other in the chaos.
“It was a good movie,” I said. “No matter how unrealistic you think it is.” He was silent for a second, digesting my thoughts of the movie, but his body language told me he wasn’t going to let it go.
“My point is, it couldn’t happen today,” he replied. “Someone would be able to do something that could stop a bunch of birds. In a land with infinite possibilities of extra-human traits…”
“The point is, Uncle Jesse,” I interrupted, “that people can survive without any abilities.” I opened the door and began to step out.
I do it every day, I thought for him to hear. I may not be special like the rest of you, but I survive.
“Casper!” he called. I turned around to look at him for a moment of silence. I was used to this. People usually didn’t know what to say to me, but he finally continued. “You’re special without an ability. You know that right?”
“Sure,” I replied. I hated the word special. I wasn’t special. I was a freak. I turned to walk out the door when Uncle Jesse spoke again.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re one of the top in your class. You’ll graduate soon and be accepted to an outstanding university.” He smiled with confidence that his prediction would come true, but his reassuring gesture was wasted on me.
The scene
of the night before rushed through my memory. I’d waited all night at the packed banquet for my name to be called. A few lucky students received invitations to further their educations, including two of my friends. None of the University Scholars had chosen me at the banquet. My grades were exceptional but they weren’t enough. College had been my only chance to get out of here, but the scholars had done what I’d always known deep down they’d do– ignored me.
No one would want a human at their school.
“That’s not true,” Uncle Jesse said, responding to my thoughts. “Any university would be lucky to have you.”
“Randy Alcott has a better chance of getting accepted to a university than me,” I responded.
“Randy Alcott is a dumb jock,” Uncle Jesse said. He wrinkled his nose in irritation as he said the name. “Is he still giving you a hard time?”
“We’re seniors now,” I said, laughing heartily. “Randy Alcott has better things to do than pick on me.” I did my best to lie convincingly, hoping my thoughts wouldn’t betray me.
Uncle Jesse gave me a skeptical look as I walked out the door. I was potentially the only person who could effectively lie to him. The trick was convincing myself that the lie was true… but reality always caught back up with me.
I stood on the other side of the door for a few moments contemplating the previous night. Because I didn’t have an extra-human trait, no university would accept me. I’d always tried to convince myself that I was better off human. I could be my own person because there was no special ability to define me, but after last night, I felt truly handicapped and isolated.
I stepped off the wood deck that extended across the front of the house and looked at my car. My car and I were more similar than anyone other than me could know. Freshly etched into the red paint of the driver’s door was the label HUMAN. I’d exited the banquet last night to find the new addition to my car, which had been the cherry on my evening. I was sure I could hide it from my parents for a while. Neither one of them had an excuse to use the car.
I headed towards the school– a seven-minute ride across town. As I pulled off my road, I passed a group of black jeeps with the Military’s silver falcon emblem printed on the doors. The crest pictured the bird of prey with open wings and sharp talons. The soldiers inside the vehicles stared intently through their black sunglasses as they patrolled the city. Soldiers made me uncomfortable.
The Military controlled everything and owned all the land. Because Dad graduated from a university, they gave us our house and property, but many families could only rent property. But the Military was good. They didn’t let anyone starve or go homeless. Less fortunate families paid with what credits they could, and then the Military provided for them. For several people my age, the soldier life was the only option after high school. Graduation was just a little over two months away, and serving my territory was my only current option.
I made it to school in six minutes, and I started looking for Adam. I did my best to stay aware of him. He was likely to pop up behind me at any second– the perks of having a teleporter for a friend. My best bet of finding him was under a small oasis of tress - the popular place to congregate in the mornings referred to as the oasis.
I found Adam chatting with two girls in our class, who had more than just friendship on their minds by the way they flirted. If I walked over, Anna Bell and Jessica would walk away without saying a word to me, and then I’d blame myself for ruining Adam’s chances with them.
Adam’s blond hair, blue eyes, and lean muscles made him irresistible to girls. Despite having the human for a best friend, he still managed to get dates and maintain a comfortable relationship with our fellow students.
Anna Bell giggled in an over dramatized, flirty fashion, because I knew Adam wasn’t that funny. He lifted weights often, which most girls appreciated, and perhaps it made up for not having a tasteful sense of humor. What little I knew about dating, I learned from Adam. He’d been accepted to a university in the Texas Territory. I envied him.
Being the only person on the planet without an extra-human trait had its fame, but it didn’t guarantee me popularity. My popularity registered on the negative side of the spectrum, which made me invisible to most people. Invisible or not, I stood out enough to the select few who insisted on torturing me with their never-ending stream of insults and harassment.
I spotted Randy Alcott’s car pull into the parking lot, and I pulled my shirt’s hood over my head. Most people used their hoods as a shield from the desert sun, but I used mine to hide. I watched the girls leave before I approached Adam.
“How’s it going?” Adam asked, staring into the distance. I thought something seemed off about him.
“A little tired, but I’ll manage,” I replied. “I watched another Hitchcock movie last night.”
Adam seemed distracted. “The subject of old movies is starting to get boring.” Adam spoke without looking at me, but I assumed he was just tired too. He probably was too excited to sleep. He had college to look forward to.
I bored Adam with my movies more than he deserved. “Just because you have no appreciation for art doesn’t mean that those old movies aren’t good,” I said mockingly.
“You’re the only one who even watches them,” he said, finally sounding like himself. “The managers at Legacy would have probably thrown them away if it weren’t for you.”
The bell rang and we started walking to class.
“I wish they would throw them away,” I said. “I’d take the ones I need for my chip collection.”
“You have too many movie chips as it is,” he snapped.
“You have just as many music chips,” I argued.
“Which reminds me… Legacy got a new shipment in yesterday from the Military. A new group I’ve never heard of was in the boxes. A group called The Beatles.”
We entered the school through the front entrance, following the herd of students in front of us. We passed the bizarre statue of the Shoal– a hydrogen bomb that served as our school mascot. The school itself was only twenty-five years old, but still looked new. Adam continued talking about The Beatles’ music as I tried to change the subject back to old movies.
“There are plenty of people that study these movies,” I continued as we walked towards our lockers. I turned the knob, entering my combination. “The old directors made… dammit!”
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.
“I left my history paper in my room this morning.” The muscles in my shoulders and neck tensed. I would have to ask the teacher for an extension or suffer receiving a B in my favorite class. I slammed the door of my locker. If last night hadn’t put me in such a funk, I bet I would have remembered the paper.
“I got you covered,” Adam said. He walked up to me and placed his hand on my left shoulder. I looked at his face as the background behind him changed from a bright hallway full of green lockers to my dim, familiar room. The exhausted expression on Adam’s face couldn’t be ignored any longer.
“You feel okay?” I asked. “You look tired.”
“Yeah - I’m fine. Grab your paper and I’ll get us back to school,” he said.
I searched through the clutter on my desk, finding the handwritten pages between two books I’d forgotten as well. I was grateful that Adam had such an extraordinary ability. I envied his ability as well. I wished I could be a teleporter like Dad and Adam.
“Got it,” I said. I turned to Adam. “Thanks. I would have been in trouble if I didn’t turn this in today.” I felt the gleeful expression on my face change as I remembered the previous night. “Although, I don’t have to kill myself over my grades anymore– I won’t be going to college.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Adam said. “Your dad is talking to all his old connections to try and get you in, remember?”
I wanted to believe Adam more than anything, but I was more realistic. He put his hand back on my shoulder and took us back to school. We were back at my locker in an instant. The bell ra
ng for first period. Adam stared at me with big eyes– I knew the look too well.
“Later,” Adam said, disappearing into thin air.
I was used to watching Adam pop in and out so rapidly, I didn’t bother to say goodbye. He was always gone before I had the chance. I’d never been able to keep up with him, or Mom… or Dad.
I started walking to class. There were a dozen students in the hallway that were late as well. History was first in the mornings because I took the advanced course. I walked in the classroom and could feel the teacher’s eyes on me. Her name was Mrs. White, and even though she liked me, she wouldn’t overlook my tardiness. It was my third time in a month to be late.
“Casper Vance… late again?” Mrs. White asked with a small curve on her lips that told me everything was going to be fine. “This isn’t a good way to end one’s senior year.”
“Yeah sorry... late morning,” I confessed. I pulled off my sun hood.
“Try not to let it happen again,” she said. She was my favorite teacher, and I hated disappointing her.
I took my seat in the back left corner of the classroom, avoiding the eyes of my classmates. I hoped they were ignoring me. My friend Sara sat next to me, but she didn’t talk in class. She always paid attention to the teacher, but you would never know the way she always sat - so still and silent. The thick lenses of her glasses made it impossible to see where her focus really lay. She wore her hair up in a messy bun. If there was one person in the school that had less confidence than me– it was Sara. But at least she got accepted to an amazing university in Boston. Brains always got accepted.
“Today, class, we’ll be continuing our discussion about the Blight,” Mrs. White said. “Specifically we are going to look at the long-term effects of the war, but let’s review first.” Mrs. White’s eyes found the piece of chalk on her desk. She concentrated and the chalk lifted into the air, writing notes on the blackboard. Her telekinetic abilities were convenient, allowing her to talk and write at the same time.
