Magik: The Son of Fire

Chapter One

"Damien get up, you can't be late again!"

The smell of bacon and syrup was just strong enough to force my eyes open and see the digital clock sitting on my bedside table. It read 7:23 a.m. I jolted upright, hopped out of bed, and threw my black jeans on. I pulled a white long-sleeve over my ruffled brown hair. Strapped my sneakers on and sprinted down the stairs of my new house.

I desperately wanted this school to last. Ever since the... incident when I was in kindergarten, we've been moving what feels like every week. I hate making new friends, and I especially hate having new teachers. But every time I get used to everything, bad things happen, and then we have to move again.

I've never been a normal kid, and now that I'm on the verge of 16, hormones aren't exactly helping. Logically I know this, and yet my anger gets the best of me constantly. I have had 15 therapists, 100 counselors, and a million headaches. The headaches are the worst part.

Every time I get angry, the pain shows up. I don't mean normal headaches. Imagine every cell in your body feeling like they are burning from the inside out. Then multiply it by a million. Almost like I'm being ripped apart piece by piece. And every time is worse than the last.

But I was determined not to ruin another school. To not let that pain take over again. To not get angry.

Hopefully.

I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Boxes littered the space, all the way into the living room. Had to be at least a hundred of them. The thing is, that's normal for us. We probably won't even unpack everything before we have to move again. Not to be negative or anything, that's just how our lives are.

On the island in the center of the kitchen was an assortment of breakfast foods. Biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage, eggs, you name it. In the last few years, my food intake has shot up like crazy. I eat around 6 meals a day now, which is crazy to think about. But anytime I skip a meal, it feels like a flame inside my stomach begging for more fuel. It doesn't necessarily hurt, but if I don't eat when I'm supposed to, I'm liable to pass out.

"Mornin' sunshine. Big day, you better eat up." My mom has always been my best friend. And that's not just because she's the only consistent person in my life. Standing at the stove, she was wearing her classic attire. Blue and white flannel, ripped jeans, and high tops. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, like normal. Originally she was from Texas, and her accent never really went away. Makes her already-giving personality seem even more genuine.

"Excited for the new school?" she asked, knowing my answer.

"Am I ever?"

Maybe that was a bit harsh. Moving takes a toll on her too.

"Well eat what you can, I've already packed your lunches. The bus will be here any minute, but I'm gonna have to skip breakfast. Have to make that interview!"

She poured the last bit of gravy she was making into a bowl, kissed my messy hair, and walked out the front door. I spent a few minutes making myself a giant plate and scarfing down what I could. Right as I took my last bite, I heard the bus rolling up the hill. I grabbed my 3 lunchboxes, and my doctor's note for having them, and rushed out the door.

The winter sunrise kissed my skin, a small hint of warmth in the Colorado cold. Everything was covered in snow, which is a new experience for me. Mom and I have always lived in very hot and dry places. Most people can't handle that, but I've always been most comfortable in the scorching heat. It feels like home. Now being in a very cold place was jarring, but the mountains helped. Something about seeing them makes the frigid temperature worth it.