Erik Lehnsherr always raised Estelle to be proud of who she was. To believe that she was the brightest star in the sky. When he gets taken away for assassinating the president, Elle is left to make up her own mind about right and wrong. With her gro...
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"She knows," I say as I hurriedly walk to the bus stop.
Peter sighs. "No she doesn't."
"How could she not?" I exclaim. "I lost it yesterday. People probably felt it at the Whit House."
"Now you're just being dramatic, it wasn't that bad."
I stop in my tracks and mumble. "I could have killed someone."
"Hey," Peter places his hand on my shoulder. "You didn't kill anyone. And now you don't have to worry about losing control, you have your magic hat thingy."
I adjust my indigo cap to sit straight on my head.
"It's not magic." I tell him, "it's science. Magic doesn't exist."
He smirks. "Says the girl who can read people's minds."
"Why do you think we're called mutants, Peter? It's just like what they taught us at school. Human evaluation and stuff."
Peter sends me a confused glance. "Wasn't that talking about fish growing legs?"
"It's-" I shake my head. "It's really complex and I'm probably not the best person to explain it all, I'm still not sure I even grasp the concept."
"You know," Peter starts. "You talk more now than you used to."
I smile. "I can focus better than I used to. I swear, I didn't even realize how bad things had gotten. It's like now I'm...free."
"So does that mean no more ping pong tournaments?" Peter asks.
A laugh escapes past my lips. "When have I ever backed out that easily?"
"I don't know, maybe I just thought you'd be scared of facing the ping pong king again for a rematch." He jokes.
"Okay, never call yourself 'the ping pong king' ever again." I start. "And also, I'm pretty sure I won yesterday."
"It was a close match!" He argues.
"Twenty to five, Peter." I say, "I've taken your throne, fair and square."
He lets a smile find his face. "Fine, but I'm stealing it back today after school."
"You better not cheat."
"Me, cheat?" He points a finger to his chest. "Now how could I ever do that?"
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"You're cheating, Peter!" I complain as the ball in front of me gets thrown in the opposite direction.
He watches the ball roll away. "You're the one who can move it with your brain. How am I throwing off the ball without even moving an inch."
I roll my eyes. "Oh yeah, you're totally not moving an inch. Not at all."
"Are you insinuating that every time you blink I run over and throw your ball of course, then return to my spot before you can even notice?" He asks.
