Shifters

Chapter One

Shifters

Chapter One

Torrence 

"Hey Ginger-Crisp, watch yourself!" 

I duck quickly without looking up, my shock of copper hair whipping around my face. The water bottle flies over my head, barely skimming my scalp. I don't even look up as the two boys who have been following me for three blocks run up on either side of me, wiggling their eyebrows at each other over my shoulders. 

"Looks like Big Red here has a new book," one of them says, trying to rip my newest prize out of my hands. I sidestep him without even glancing up from the page. 

"Graceful one she is," the other boy says with a snort, "I guess Lucille Ball can dance." They start shoving me from either side, ricocheting me back and forth like a toddler in a bouncy house. But instead of letting them get to me, I just keep walking. In my head, I repeat the words my Aunt Helen has instilled in me since the day I was born: Head down, book up. 

Books make it easier to blend in. When I'm reading I don't have to interact. 

"Guess she isn't going to play," the first boy whines. "Pity." And with that last word he brings a hand down in front of me, slamming my brand new book into a dirty puddle. It lands at my feet with a squelch, water soaking the paper cover, the pavement bending it back like a twisted limb. I wince. Both boys snicker and continue walking, low-fiving each other without looking back at me. 

That's when things go bad. 

I feel the familiar tingling start in my fingers, like a hundred little fire ants crawling under my skin. The image of my ruined book flashes behind my eyelids and I start to see red. Then, all of a sudden, I feel the ground shake a little beneath my feet, like everything in the world is shifting under my brown flats, knocking to escape. No, not here, not now. Reign yourself in, Torr. But not even the reasonable part of my brain can control me now. I've passed the point of no return and there's no stopping it. 

A crack resonates and lingers on the air, and a large tree branch crashes to the ground in front of the boys. 

They both scream, stumbling backward as their arms fly over their faces. I suppress a grin. They look like scared children, weak and vulnerable. Cowering. I love this feelings, the feeling that I can do anything, control anything. But the second they whip around and see me, the smile drains from my face. Fear replaces it. 

Oh no oh no oh no. What have I done? 

Without blinking I grab my soggy book, clutch it to my chest, and run in the opposite direction. The boys don't follow me, but I know they're still there on the sidewalk, dumbfounded. The branch had just missed them.Tree branches fall all the time. The tree was old that's all. But I know that's not what happened.