Gifted

Ch. 6 He's Different

      "Okay ma, I gotta go to school," a seventeen-year-old Aiden called out to his mother.

                 "Honey," Marisa called back, stumbling out from her bathroom half ready, "you haven't even eaten breakfast," she insisted, putting on her left shoe as she clumsily made her way over to the toaster, throwing a piece over to Aiden.

                 "Alright, love ya ma, good luck at your interview," Aiden said, closing the door behind him. He had short, wavy hair, and a very masculine jawline.

                 "WAIT!" Marisa walked over to the door.

                 "What? Oh, ma!" Aiden cried out in despair, "I'm seventeen. Really?"

                 "Hey! Yes really! Especially since you did the whole mind read deal," she said raising a pseudo-scolding finger at him. "Come on, goodbye hug and kiss."

                 "Okay," he responded as he threw an arm around his mother and pecked her on the cheek. "Gotta go!" he repeated, walking quickly away from the building.

                 Aiden walked to the sidewalk where Jon was waiting for him. He had short red hair, and was in a plain gray t-shirt, black athletic shorts, and slide sandals with socks. Jon was always dressed as if he was in between football games. Admittedly, the look worked for him since he really was the school's quarterback.

                 "Give me a kiss. Muah, muah," Jon said in his best mock voice of Aiden's mom.

                 Aiden jokingly shoved Jon in the shoulder, Shut up dude. Aiden thought, projecting to Jon.

                 "Oh no, it doesn't end that easily," Jon teased, with the implied promise of more to come later. "Looking good on the first day Mr. Aiden LeFlour," Jon commented on Aiden's dark wash jeans and blue polo. "How do you get a hold of this stuff?" Jon inquired.

                 "Seriously, this stuff comes in the mail every three months. Sometimes it's cash, sometimes it's clothing. You know, I get so much crap from Franklin that I've been giving half of it to you!"

                 "Oh yeah, but 'seriously' I never wear clothes like that," Jon declared.

                 "That much I can see for myself," Aiden retorted as they walked down the sidewalk. This was going to be the depressingly gray type of day that no student wants to start their senior year on. The clouds were thick and dark, threatening to unleash a storm at any moment. Maine could become this way within a moment's notice.

                 About fifteen minutes later the pair arrived at Newcastle High, a fifty-year-old building. "Hey" Jon said, "Being as your birthday is this Thursday, maybe you can ask for the mysterious Alfred Franklin to remodel the school."

                 "Not likely, I don't think even he has that much reach."

                 "You never-" Jon was cut off by the sound of the bell. Literally, it was a traditional bell up in a bell tower that had to be rung to signify students that class was about to start.

                 "Crap, man!" Aiden exclaimed. "We haven't even gone to the front office for our schedules."

                 "I have an idea," Jon said, quick-witted as ever as the pair ran to the front office.

                 When the two boys entered the brick building, Jon made a move for Mrs. Street.

                 "Mrs. Street, looking gorgeous as ever..."

                 "Yeah, yeah Mr. Hale," move it along to the attendance building.

                 "Sorry, I just had to bring up your glowing appearance today," Jon said, brushing his fingers along the top of her hand. Jon had the ability to influence emotion. It wasn't foolproof, sometimes people didn't even realize that he had done it, but it would definitely give them a leg up.

                 These boys look winded! Ah, what the heck, I'll give them a break... Aiden projected his thought, trying to make Mrs. Street believe it was her own. Her long grey hair was pulled up and looked like a beehive. She looked at them dubiously, taking their schedules up off her desk and handed them each the papers.

                 Jon and Aiden managed to keep a straight face long enough to get down the hall way. However, as soon as they were out of Mrs. Street's line of sight, they high fived and congratulated one another.

                 Mrs. Street called out, "I didn't do it because of your mind tricks though Mr. LeFlour!"

                 "Thanks Mrs. Street!" they both called back.

                 "What do you have first period?" Jon asked. Walking down the hallway, the walls were drywall, very old drywall. The paint was peeling off.

                 "Gifted History," Aiden replied,

                 "Me too!" Jon said, "Okay, let's hustle to Mr. Fisher's room."

**

                 "Ah, Mr. LeFlour, Mr. Hale, nice of you to join us," Mr. Fisher said. He was middle aged, but he could've passed for twenty. It was for all intents and purposes a useless gift, but it was all Axel Fisher had.

                 "Mr. LeFlour I believe there is a seat for you at the front. Mr. Hale, the only seat left for you is in the back, but I can change that if I hear your voice too often."

                 "Yes sir!" Jon saluted facetiously.

                 Mr. Fisher walked up to the front of the room, turning out the lights and turning on the overhead projector, something only a few teachers had. Mr. Fisher placed some pictures up on the projector screen, and then started his introduction lecture.

                 "Psst," a girl with long brown hair called to Jon. He looked over to see a beautiful girl sitting next to him. How did I not see this chick before?

  "Hey," she whispered.

                 Jon whispered back, "Are you new? I don't recognize you, and trust me, if I had seen you before, I would've remembered." Yes, that should definitely do it. Alright, a mention about me being quarterback should seal the deal...

                 "So your friend is pretty cool over there," she whispered back. "Think you could introduce me?"

                 Dang it man. I did not want to be your wingman on this one! Hesitantly, he responded, "Yeah. What's your name?" he asked disappointedly.

                 "Amanda. Amanda Holloway."

                 "So just curious, what do you see in my friend over there?"

                 "I don't know, he seems different," she explained, "It's just a feeling, I suppose."

                 "Oh yeah," he responded, "he's different..."