Mystical

One

March 22nd. My birthday. My eighteenth birthday, in fact. All I wanted was a car. And did I wake up to one? Nope. I woke up to a cinnamon roll with a candle in it with a handwritten note that read:

Isaac,

Happy birthday baby! Dad and I hope you have the most mystical day today! We are sorry we couldn't stick around until you woke up , we had
something important come up at the firm, but we will see you when you get back home from school. We love you more than you will ever know. Have a great day, sweetie!

Xoxo Mom and Dad

It sweet and all...for a five year old. I am a legal adult today. I'm also beyond used to them not being home. My parents were some bigwigs in this legal firm or some crap. Big lawyers (so they should be able to afford to get me a car, but no that has "to be earned"). Thankfully they decided I didn't need a babysitter anymore...just three short years ago. Mental eye roll.

I inhaled the cinnamon roll before brushing my teeth. It seemed like it was going to be a normal day until I was brushing my hair. I was just going through it quickly in front of the mirror like I always did when an odd sensation filled my fingertips, like when something falls asleep; pins and needles. I set the brush on the counter and shook out my hands. And I swear to you, blue sparks flew from my fingertips. Instantly, the prickly sensation was gone. Sure that I had imagined the whole thing, I shook my hands out again...nothing happened.

Clearly staying up and watching Teen Wolf reruns until two in the morning was not helping my sanity.

The rest of my morning routine went without any mental lapses. Even if I may or may not have tried to Matilda-eye a pencil from across the room. No such luck.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before it was time for me to walk to school.

School was...okay. It's not that I'm not smart or I hate homework or any of the teachers. It's nothing like that. I'm a good student. I've always gotten good grades. I get along with my teachers. I always had a decent amount of friends as I was semi-popular. It was when I came out as gay at 16 that it all changed. My parents were super supportive. So is the school faculty.

The kids at school? Not so much.

My friend group went from about eight strong to a total of zero. This is mostly due to my ex-best friend Braxton (the most popular guy at school). He started all kinds of dumb rumors and targeted anyone who deigned to be nice to me. All of the rest of my friends no longer felt comfortable to be around me. I'm not going to lie, it hurt then and it hurts now. I sit alone at lunch. I only work in groups when they're assigned. It sucks, but this is my last year of school and then I can move to a big city where being gay is accepted and I'll be just fine. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

—— cut to fifth period——

Trigonometry will honestly be the end of me. I dread it every single day. And it's not even really because of the content (mostly, I mean it is hard). It's because it's the only class I share with Braxton. And of course Mrs. Kim has a seating chart so Braxton sits directly behind me. On a good day we can scoot on through the period with only a few sniggers here and there pointed at me. I've been really good so far, I've been able to ignore him all year. Mrs. Kim has caught him a few times and put him in his place.

When I stepped into the room today, Braxton was already in his seat. I was early, there were only a few other kids in the room. Braxton's green eyes zeroed in on me, it was like he could sense when I entered. It was always like this, I'm not sure how he does it. I averted my gaze as quick as I could and sat in my seat.

"—knows what's been between his legs. He probably has HIV or some shit. Fucking fag," I hear him whisper to his neighbor.

Looking back, I'm not sure what it was. Maybe it was the accumulation of all the insults over the year, and I finally snapped. Or maybe it was what was happening to my body unbeknownst by me at the time. Or more likely a combination of the two. It all hit me at once.

I felt like my body had been struck by lightning. I rose to my feet involuntarily, and as if my hands and tongue had a mind all their own the words, "Ventilabis retrorsum," slipped from my parted lips and my hands moved forward in a pushing gesture.

Blue sparks flew from my fingertips and shot like bullets straight into Braxton, lifting him up out of his chair and slamming him into the back wall of the classroom.

I froze, my breathing ceased and I swear my heart stopped mid-beat. No one moved or spoke. Braxton had slid to the floor and wasn't moving. Panic began to flood me. I could feel the other students' eyes on me, piercing through my core. My hands started shaking.

I ran.

There wasn't anything else I could physically do. I fled the bizarre scene and ran straight for the nearest exit. Not one person tried to stop me. I was thankful for that.

I didn't stop running until I was standing in the entry hall of my house. My hands felt like they were being stabbed by a million tiny needles so I glanced down to find that little blue sparks were flying chaotically from my fingertips before fizzling out of existence.

"What is happening to me...?" I murmur to myself.

"You're growing into yourself, son," My dad's voice says from in front of me.

Startled, I stumble back. I hadn't known he was home, nor had I heard his approach.

"W-What do you mean?" I stutter, glancing down at my still sparking hands. I have got to be having a complete mental breakdown. That's the only explanation.

As if to add to my hallucinations, my dad opens both of his hands palm up and a cascade of red sparkles erupt from his palms and swirl up to tornado around his entire body.

"Magic is real, Isaac. And you possess it. I know because I'm a wizard. As are you, well at least half wizard," he explains, as if that should sate the questions beginning to bubble over inside me.

I feel my mouth fall open and then snap shut. All of a sudden a flood of memories washed over me from various points in my childhood. Favorite toys floating over my head as a baby. Tea boiling itself. Clothes folding on their own. I had thought I had dreamt all of those things, an overactive imagination. All of those odd memories finally made sense. And yes, I realize how crazy that sounds.

Had I been paying attention to myself, I would have noticed that sparks were shooting off my entire body now. But my emotions were running far too rampant to notice such minute details at the moment. Then that last sentence my dad had said settles in.

"Half wizard? Meaning half wizard, half what?" I find myself asking, as if that should be the first question out of my mouth. I should be asking where the nearest insane asylum is.

"Half shapeshifter, honey," my mom says as she comes through the front door behind me, "It's very rare for two full blooded beings to be able to have children together. You're very special, dear."

So not only am I a wizard, I'm also a shapeshifter. And to add to all this crazy town, apparently there's a whole world that I wasn't aware existed. A world full of supernatural beings. That's what was implied with my mom's statement. This is too much.

My dad starts to say something but I can't focus on what he's saying because the room has started to spin and there's a ringing in my ears as I feel my legs buckle underneath me.