MAGIC ANGELINE
When Angeline Peats first walked in on the guy she crushed on making a book fly to the other side of the room without even looking at it, she had turned around and never spoke to him again. She was seven at that time and for the remaining of that day her perfectly straight blood hair had been drawn up in a messy ponytail that she didn’t care to make pretty, her favorite orange t-shirt had been splashed with juice by her clumsy best friend but Angeline didn’t even notice. She didn’t even speak for the rest of the day, and that draw curious looks from the teacher.
Angeline was the always happy kid whose golden hair was the envy of the mothers, her beautiful clothes were the dream of girls and her clear blue eyes were the object of infatuation by boys. Yes, Angeline was beautiful, but what made her amazing was the fact that as a little girl she paid no attention to material stuffs and simply played.
As any other girl in the second grade, she was madly in love with Andrew Levine, the brown haired, green eyes boy who loved football and had a smile so bright it competed with Angeline’s. He was that and more.
One day, Angeline had gone back to the classroom to get the necklace she had been telling her best friend Lauren, a book worm of a girl with round glasses, about. When she got to the door of the classroom she didn’t make it two steps in before she saw it. Andrew was sitting on his usual seat, in the corner opposite to the door, right in front of the teacher’s desk, completing the work he didn’t do at home. His head was down and a frown was set on his brow as he finished his math work but his hand, skinny and careless, was pointing the red covered book back to the shelf where it always was. It was floating in air.
Angeline back stepped out of the classroom and walked back to her table, not answering Lauren’s questions about the necklace. The girl didn’t mind that, so she soon focused on the book she was reading and left Angeline to think.
Never did little beautiful Angeline talked to Andrew again.
She never told her mother, who she told everything, or her father, who loved to hear about her day, not even her dog, who knew her deepest secrets. Bones, the dog, would probably bark saying she was crazy. But from that day on, Angeline was much quiet.
In eighth grade she was ready to believe she was crazy when she made a pot of tea explode in her kitchen. She had just finished talking with her boyfriend—he broke up with her—and she was furious because he said he liked another girl: her best friend. She had slammed the phone and finally the pot that had been, boiling louder as she spoke burst into a million pieces. Angeline stood stunned in front of the stove as her shirt dripped water. She had just put the water on three minutes before it exploded.
For two weeks after that, every time she saw her supposedly “best friend” with her ex boyfriend something exploded. She was worried and always regretted losing control. Angeline tried to never get mad so she didn’t speak to many people. She also experimented with her anger and tried to control it. Though one time she almost set the house on fire. She learned that if she channeled her anger on some object she could control it better. She could switch off the lights on and off by looking at the switch, she could make objects move by looking at them, and she could make her pencil write her homework. That was the one she enjoyed the most but the pencil had to have a good book to copy the answers from.
She never told her parents about her powers until strange things started happening around her.
Angeline was on her way to school one cold September morning. There was a chill on the air and the trees were swaying with force. Tightening her sweater around her body she picked up her pace. The sound of her footsteps was the only things that she could hear. When she rounded the corner she saw Andrew Field coming out of a wall.
