Glitches in My Code

Open flames

I ball my hand into a fist, clenching my jaw and digging my nails into my palm. Don't go off. Don't go off. No matter what, don't go off in the middle of class. Slowly but surely, I calm down, and my nails remove themselves from my flesh, tipped with red. Really? I didn't feel much more than usual, and I rarely draw blood... I roll back my shoulders, forcing myself to get back to work. The bell rings right as I scrawl the last sentence, and I rush to the teacher to hand it in. He glances at my hand, then his gaze flicks up to my face. He grunts, as though slightly annoyed, but takes the paper and lets me go.

I rush to my next class, slamming my locker shut and nearly knocking over five different people as I hurry through the halls. When I reach my next class, science, I shove my hands inside my desk and release a large ball of flame, one that fills the empty space. When I finish, the only evidence it was ever there is the quickly cooling metal of the desk. Nothing burned, not a single object singed. Thank Ilan it doesn't burn if I don't want it to. I'd have been arrested for arson years ago if that wasn't the case.

As the rest of the class slowly trickles in, I sit at my desk, leg bouncing up and down, nails buried in my palms once more. The teacher announces that we'll be working with an open flame today, and I let out a sigh of relief. Open flames, my one true love. Open flames have an oddly calming effect on me. All fire does, but uncontained fire can take me from murderous to peaceful in mere minutes.

All we do with the fire is heat a solution, but we use it nonetheless. As I watch the flames dance, I feel the pressure on my palms slowly decrease, until my hands are loosely curled around nothing, and only crescent-shaped indents in my palms indicate anything out of the ordinary had happened. My science teacher glances up, looking directly at me, meeting my eyes. He smiles slightly, and one thought floods my brain. He knows. 

At the end of class, my teacher walks to the back of the class, where I sit, as I collect my books.

"Don't worry. I won't tell if you won't tell." And with those simple words, he opens his hand, revealing a small ball of fire, then clenches it shut and returns to his desk. Still in shock, I nod, hurrying out of the classroom, headed for my bus.