Grey and Gold Eyes

One: Primrose

My powers are really getting out of hand now. I stare at the black scorch mark on the surface of my dresser and try to cover it up with some stray magazines. Setting fire to things is never good.

I stare at myself in the mirror and try to calm myself down. The reflection of my grey eyes with little flecks of gold stares back at me.

I'm not always like this. Usually I can control my powers. More or less. Anyway, today is not a day for messing up. Today is my first day of high school.

It's six-thirty in the morning and I am already up. The house is quiet; my family doesn't usually get up earlier than seven o'clock. Before seven, any noise you make can't wake them up.

I've already taken my shower, and now it's time to get dressed. Unfortunately, the high school I'm going to has uniforms. I wish I had gone to one of the schools my middle school friends went to. Pretty much any other school other than Riverdell High doesn't have uniforms. I'll have to wear the same white blouse with even whiter buttons, grey and white plaid skirt, and shiny black shoes that all my other classmates will be wearing.

By the time that I've gotten into my uniform, fiddled around with my hair until I just settled on holding it up with a pencil (a trick I learned online), slipped on my signature chain bracelet with little cat charms, and grabbed my black backpack, both my parents had woken up and were banging around in the kitchen. I climb down the stairs slowly to see what mess they call food they've prepared today.

Breakfast is not bad, actually. Compared to the burnt pancakes, dark brown waffles with black ash on the sides, and lumpy oatmeal they usually make, fully cooked bacon and toast that isn't burnt is great. As always, Dad is sitting in the chair closest to the window and Mom is standing in front of the sink, washing the dishes they used to make breakfast.

"Good morning, honey! Are you all ready for school?" Mom says, finishing the dishes and turning around to sit down. She pats the chair next to her, her red hair tied up in a bun. She's always dyeing her hair all kinds of colors, regardless of how many times I tell her that her naturally blonde hair is beautiful, unlike my dark brown curls that never seem to turn blonde.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad," I say as I slip into the chair next to Mom. Dad nods at me, not taking his eyes off of his plate full of bacon. "Yes, Mom, I got all my things ready last night. All I'm going to be waiting for is you two to drive me to school." I say, grabbing a plate and stuffing it with bacon and toast.

"Honey, I actually won't be able to drive you to school today," Dad says, finally taking a break from stuffing himself with breakfast. "Why not?" I ask. He looks guilty for a moment. "Well, I need to be at work earlier today. I'll just be taking the bus to the office, and your mother will take you to school. Okay?"

I hesitate, but then smile at him. "It's fine, Dad. I guess this year it would be better to have only one parent taking me to school. So that I won't be making you both late to work." Dad smiles back. "That's good. I thought you'd be mad at me for not being with you on your first day. But don't worry, I'll be home early. We can have dinner as a family."

After we finished our breakfast and made sure we didn't forget anything, Mom and I got into the car and said goodbye to Dad. We sit in the car in silence, Mom focusing on the road and me staring out at the beautiful day outside. Until Mom spoke up.

"Are you nervous, Rose?" she asks, sneaking a sideways glance at me. I stay silent. What am I supposed to say? Yes, Mom, of course I'm nervous because there's a tiny chance of me burning down the whole school if I get mad? They don't know anything about my powers. Nobody does. I've kept it a secret since the day I discovered I could do things that others couldn't.

For my thirteenth birthday I didn't want a party. I didn't want a big public celebration. All I wanted was a small gathering, just me, Mom, and Dad. At that time Dad was always busy with work and Mom was busy going to cooking classes to sharpen her baking skills. So a family gathering was out of the question.

My birthday seemed just like any other day. Dad rushing to work; Mom glued to a recipe book. Nobody came by the house – I was sort of a loner at school. After a day of trying – and failing – to get Mom to look directly at me for more than a few seconds, I locked myself in my room and moped. I felt like burying under my covers and never coming out. I think it was about that time that the window next to my bed shattered into a million pieces.

Fortunately, my comforter was thick enough that no stray glass hit me. A second later I heard my door being thrown open and Mom's worried voice: "Rose, what happened?" So she could hear her surroundings after all.

After that first incident I slowly started to realize that I was the cause for the random accidents occurring whenever I was stressed. I haven't fully learned how to control my powers yet, but they seem to be listening to me when I calm myself down.

"Rose?" Mom's voice jerks me out of my flashback. "What?" I mumble, unsure of what we were talking about.

"I asked whether you were nervous for your first day."

"No, not really." The truth is, I actually have a plan. Well, if you call laying low a plan.

"That's good! I remember my first day..." I zone out a story I've heard from Mom a million times before. Before I know it, we have pulled up in front of the dirty old main building of Riverdell High.

"Good luck, honey," says my mom. I open the car door as she protests, "Hey. Where's my goodbye kiss?" I smile and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. "Bye, Mom!" I say as I shut the car door.

I watch her slowly pull away before I face the school building. Or buildings, should I say. There are three structures in total−one big main building and two smaller and slightly in better condition ones flanking the main building. I head towards the main building.

The inside of the school is better than the outside. The peeling paint of its exterior cannot be seen inside. The walls are painted a clean white, and I even spot a row of lockers outside each classroom. The classrooms encircle a grassy area with stone pathways connecting rooms, over which is a hole in the roof revealing the blue sky. In the very center of it all is a beautiful stone gazebo, complete with vines and white and pink flowers on top.

I head to a bulletin board next of the gazebo. Posted on it are a few papers with names. I see a page marked FRESHMEN and find that the freshmen are divided into four sections−Lilac, Daisy, Orchid, and Primrose. I look at the last one again just to make sure that I read it correctly. Under each section are names of the students. I find my name at the very bottom of the page−in the Primrose section, of course. Great. What a coincidence.

I look around for a room marked Primrose when I hear a voice behind me. "I love your hair!"

I turn around, keeping my head down, to see a girl about two inches shorter than me holding the straps of her backpack. Her blouse is a dirty white and her skirt is more of a blue than a grey. Her dull black shoes look a little too big for her. I look up at her face. Her deep blue eyes are framed by big, pink-rimmed glasses that would have been cute in sixth grade. What surprises me most, though, is her hair. Straight, black hair falls past her shoulders, with a single highlight of deep pink on her left side. She's actually really pretty in her own way.

She looks at me expectantly, and I realize that I have been staring at her silently for too long.