Chapter 1
Supernatural: a word we use to describe anything unnatural like a ghost, ESP, or magic. But who draws the line and where? I guess most days for me feel 'supernatural' then.
It all goes back to when I was 5 years old. My mother and I always used to bake together when I was little. Cakes, pies, cookies, anything really. She always let me serve everyone once we finished. Usually, I would simply take it to the table and see my brother and dad's smiling faces waiting. But that day was different. Dad and Zack, my older brother, were watching a football game. I took the plate of cookies my mom gave me and began down the hallway to the den stairs. After two steps, I was thinking to myself how good the cookies smelled when I stumbled down the next step, lost my footing and began to fall. Next thing I know, I'm on the kitchen floor with cookies on me. I sit up and see my mother is staring at me as if she just saw a ghost.
"What just happened?" She asked. Her face was pale. I looked at her and shrugged, not knowing what she meant. At this moment, I realized I wasn't hurt and didn't fall down the stairs.
"Mommy, what did happen?" I asked back. Mother yelled for my father and he ran up the stairs, right to us. Mom pulled dad out into the hallway and talked with her back facing me. That's when she started to cry. He led her out of the hallway, into the living room, and soon came back to me sitting at the table, happily eating a cookie.
"Sweetie, what just happened?" he asked me in a kind tone of voice.
I shrugged and said, "I was falling down the stairs. Then I'm not."
He looked at me with a mortified face, as if his face would become stuck that way. "Promise me you'll never do that again Penelope," I could figure out he meant it by calling me by my full name.
"Yes Daddy. I promise," I nodded. But over time, as I got older, that promise withered.
By the time I was 9, I had secretly harnessed this "burden" as my parents called it. I thought it was more of an ability or gift, letting me have more options. Should I stay in my room and do homework or go hide in Zack's room and watch TV? I think we can guess the choice of a 9 year old.
At 12, when they began to 'Ground' me, I would use my ability to go places like the movies or a friends' house, and they wouldn't ever catch me until 2 years later. It was the night of a big party one of my friend's was having. I was forbid to go by my dad, who had gotten stricter with age. They knew older teens would be there. (Thanks to Zack.) I got ready and teleported, as I began to call it, near the house. When I teleported back to my room though, my mother was sitting at the edge of my bed, crying as she usually did, with my father standing next to her enraged.
"How did this happen?" My mother wept.
My dad saw me and grabbed my arm instantly. "Did you just your burden?" He practically growled.
"It's called teleporting!" I yelled trying to shake his grip.
My mother cried more as my dad said, "We know you've been using it. If you don't stop, I'll make you." He loosened his grip, glared angrily at me once more and left the room. Mom looked up. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
"Mom, please…" I begged. "Tell me you don't think the same as-…" She cut me off.
"What if someone sees you? Or find out? They might take you away or try to hurt you…" Her tears began to flow again as she got up and quickly left, closing the door behind her.
I sat there for a few minutes, wondering what to do. Soon it came to me. I only had one option. I quickly got up and dumped the contents of my back pack on the floor. All the school work fell out. I went over to m,y dresser and grabbed an armful of clothing and shoved it in my bag, along with my $300 I kept hidden from my parents that I earned from chores and allowances. I grabbed my bag, jacket, and small nearby picture of my family and teleported.