Mutants

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

The panel bursts into flames. Specifically, multicolored flames that seemed to be self-conscious. Mark and I sigh in unison.

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Kate begins to think. Oops, I think. I let my guard down. I quickly flick some mental switches so I'll stop reading people's minds.

"Sorry," I say. For a moment they both look quizzically at me, and then they realize what I meant. I reach into the backpack next to me and pull out some wet sticks and sponges for Kate to focus her powers on.

Mutants scientifically recognized. Isn't that why we're scorned, mistrusted, why we have to this abandoned, retro-style cafe to have peace?

Let's give a moment to think about that, I begin, joining our minds.

FLASH!

I combine everything we know about the event. Our grandparents told us that in the mid-21st century, people were noticing mutations in their children. They were small and meaningless at first, but there were rumors of people with especially strange mutations; stories of people with gills, people with incredible strength. Scientists around the world were calling it all nonsense.

At the 2079 New Year's festival, a man began to breathe fire from a float. At first people thought it was a magic trick, but then the float's driver ran away, utterly terrified. People began to wonder what was really happening. The man screamed, "NOBODY BELIEVES ME!" and instantly exploded. Scientists were confused, because they found no traces of flammable or explosive materials. They had no choice but to accept the fire was produced by the man himself. Government divisions were created to study the mutations of the younger generations. People were afraid. 20 years passed before mutants were given equal rights.

Mutants. As if we aren't human. As if they're better than us. We were divided into "classes;" Aces, Animal Whisperers, Berserkers, Electrics, Lightbenders, Planters, Psychics, Runners, Scorchers, and Weathermen.

As far as anybody can tell, our brains produce too much power, and it overflows into the use of our powers. If we don't use our powers, we could lose control. This is why Kate always has embers floating around her, making her obvious, making her a target. She was bullied from the beginning, and on top of that, fire is only useful for destruction, light, or heat. Even then, it's still destroying things. She hates it. We understand, though, we are her friends.

Mark was scorned almost as much as Kate. The public and most teenagers shun imagination. Most of his friends just wanted to see him use lasers to kill mice or something similar. He didn't understand, he just wanted to amaze people with his ability to recreate the Death Star perfectly in midair.

As for me, when I told people I was a Psychic, they either backed away or asked me for help cleaning out their garage. I couldn't, though, and people just stared at me. I felt useless, weak.

So here we sit, friends in loneliness. Kate creates a blue fireball in the air in the center of the room, like a will-o-wisp. The crackling light of the fire illuminates our faces. Kate has ash-black hair that snakes its way to her shoulders, golden-colored eyes, and perfect cheeks that make cute little dimples when accident she smiles. She also has a large burn down her right cheek, that might actually go down her entire body, but I won't be the one to check; I'd have to be a very lucky guy to do that. She also has burns all over her hands from when she accidentally boils her drinks. She's a shy girl, but she truly enjoys our hospitality.

Mark is different. He has wavy, auburn hair, with dark brown eyes that seem to see into your soul. His face is flecked with bruises and scars that he doesn't talk about. His nose is crooked, probably from being broken, and a large scar runs from his forehead to his chin. He's sheltered, experienced, and very muscular. He's completely BA in my humble opinion.

I'm not as decorated as the others. I rarely smile, and I'm very quiet. I have blue eyes, although from the look on Mark's face they're probably orange right now, and short, soft, dirty blonde hair. I am almost as timid as Kate, but almost as muscular as Mark.

I move forward to comfort Kate. She whimpers quietly. Even though this old place doesn't mean anything, she had accidentally destroyed something. I can feel her pain, burning hotter than the sun, and it hurts me even though it's not mine. I use my telepathy to soothe her, to calm her down. I look down and realize her Coke had boiled away several minutes ago, and even though the can is making crackling noises as it crumples under the heat, she hasn't let go, and I have to move her hand using my own mind.

The effort is exhausting, but I did it. As the world fades into dreams, I think I hear banging on the doors, my friends yelling, and I think, Darn it.

And then I slip into a long dream.