When The Records Broke ~ Book #1

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Chapter 1: Back Yard Fire ⬛◼◾▪

Sigh. 

This is it. My last day on Eastvare. Like, I just don't get it! Even after Jace and I pleaded our parents not to move from Eastvare and go to this other planet named Tierra (Tea * air * ah), they decided against it in the end. I mean, it's not like it's up my brother and I if we're going we're going to move or not. Also, my parent's job calls for moving to a different planet altogether. 

I went into the bathroom to wipe my nose (and to wash my hands, obviously!), but I made the mistake of looking into the win-mirror! Why am I thinking about windows?

My eyes looked bloodshot from all the crying I was doing just before, and it looked like I didn't get any sleep for the past week. My hair (which is the color Black, because I need to further enforce the stereotype that literally anyone with water as their main element will have black hair) looked like it had never SEEN a comb. Actually, my hair is so curly and tangled that if it did see a comb, it probably would fight it and win. My black eyes (kind of reinforcing the stereotype?) were dappled with flecks of blue, brown, green, and hazel. It's like someone miserably failed to sprinkle confused confetti into my eyeballs (ok, please don't picture that in your mind, you'll get grossed out to the point of melting into a puddle of cells). Look here children, I am a master at eye-contact. Don't challenge it.

I produced a ball of water out of my right hand. It was perfectly round, like a ball, or a bubble. I don't want to pop (wreck) the ball of water. It's probably my best one yet!

I decided to pop the ball of water and use the faucet instead. After all, I didn't want to spend 15 minutes in the bathroom just staring at a ball of water.

I know, it sounds weird to be amazed at a ball of water that's hovering above your hand, but if you've been using your power for a measly 1.5 years, you'd understand. It's normal to be pretty much fascinated when you do a good ball of water.

"Aqua!" my mom yelled loudly (loud enough so I could hear it through my room door, my bathroom door is open). "I need your help!"

"Ok mom," I replied loudly in monotone.

Seriously, I hate my name. It's overused for watertypes like me, it's one of those names that sounds like your parents didn't give any thought to what your name should be before you're born, and. And. Isn't two reasons enough?

I quickly finished washing off all evidence of me crying (since I didn't want to worry the living daylights out of my mom), ran out of my room, and then slid down the step-rail.

"You called mom," I said as I landed on the floor (ah yes, the floor here is made out of floor, deal with it).

"Jace set the backyard on fire!" mom yelled as she ushered me out the door. "I didn't want to call Lenox since I knew he would be busy."

"But mom," I whined, "dad would be able to put a fire out easily!"

"It doesn't hurt to try, Aqua."

My mom pushed me out of the door to the backyard. The fire crackled as it burned the grassy section of the yard.

I'm glad we built a fire-proof fence.

"AQUA!" my younger brother, Jace, screamed as he ran in my general direction.

Jace tried (unsuccessfully) cutting his brown hair into a mohawk the other day (don't tell him I said that). His irises are a radial gradient of brown, red, and orange (you know, like, from outside in). Guess who's a proud sister: me. Ahh, that's a terrible description.