1. Attacked

I flew around a corner, barely daring to stop and take a breath, my side aching from running. They were close behind though, yelling at me, which willed me on.

"C'mon freak, we just want to chat!"

"Yeah, come let us knock some sense into you!"

I glanced behind me. The two boys, tough as nail with their cropped hair and baggy sweatpants, were catching up. They were faster than me, and older too- a year ahead at school. Their legs were longer and they were going to get me. I started to panic, losing my breath from fear and from running so far. That's when I fell. I crashed into the sidewalk, my knees and hands stinging from the hard impact of the concrete. The two were on me in a second, like vultures to dead animals.

"Why'd you run, freaky? Don't you know if you run it'll be worse?" Said the smaller of the two, picking at a scab on his rat-like face and glaring down at me with cold dark eyes.

"Collins... please, I didn't do anything." I pleaded. But the boys just laughed.

"You call that not doing anything, ay?" Collins sneered, "You were working some freaky trick in the park, and we don't like that, do we Barrie?" The bulky boy shook his head and cracked his knuckes menacingly.

I hadn't meant to let anyone see, let alone the two worst bullies at school, but sometimes I could do things. I didn't really understand it, but I could make things change. It was a secret that I didn't want anyone to know about, but I had been able to do things for three years now, since I was 10, and it was just getting stronger. Sometimes I did things without meaning to, and sometimes I did it on purpose. Tonight, at the park I had been testing my, well, powers, for lack of a better word, around the small fenced area. I could make the swings go back and forth and when I picked up a flower, I could make it change colour. That was when Barrie and Collins saw me. That was when I had to run.

The first punch came, hard and fast to the right side of my face, and then more, again and again. Just before I felt like I was going to pass out with the pain, they stopped. I was lying on the ground, curled up, pathetic. Blood ran from my nose and lips onto the concrete,creating pretty patterns on the grey.

"We don't like freaks." spat Collins, and the boys walked away, laughing. After I had made sure they had left for good, I slowly got up, my face and stomach aching, my mouth full of the taste of blood. I slowly limped home, each step excruciating.

When I reached my house, I went around the side and into the garden, quietly unlatching the back door. I breathed a sigh of releif that my dad wasn't in the kitchen. Once, only once,I had let him see me beat up. He was livid. Angry that I was such a wimp not to stand up for myself; and then I got beat up worse than I had done at school that day by Collins.

I sneaked past the door to the sitting room, hearing the television blasting some crude late-night show. My dad was snoring on the couch, his head leaning back on the wall, four beer bottles littering the coffee table. I tiptoed up the stairs and creaked closed the door to my room. Still in my clothes, exhausted and broken, I collapsed on the bed.

It had been a week since the incident at the park and I still had two black eyes, which did not help my already awful looks. It wasn't that I was ugly but I was skinny and small, and I had the same facial features as my father; a man that I detested. Just like him, I had a mop of dishevled dirty blonde hair which came down just past my ears. Just like him, I had grey, plain eyes, though mine did not always burn with hate and malice as his did on the rare occasions I met eyes with him.

It was October and I was getting ready for school, pulling on my ill fitting uniform. I had had it for way too long, but my father would not buy me a new one, and I was scared to ask more than once. The blue jumper sleeves came up to my elbows and my skinny ankles were visible under my grey pants. I stuffed my homework into my sidebag and ran down the stairs. My father was at the bottom of the stairs, standing beside the door.

"Jules," he said gruffly, saying my name like it was poison. "You best be home right after school. We need to talk." His eyes burned into mine.

"Yes, sir." I said, and scooted out the door. As if I had anywhere else to go after school but home.

The day at school was dreadful. I sat there, worrying about what my dad was going to say when I got home. What had I done now? Nothing, not even the lessons could distract my morose musing. That was, until Anna Freisen came up to me after third period.

I had fancied Anna Freisen for about two years now. She was a small girl, with long dark brown hair down her back and a smile always on her face. I envied that smile.

"What happened to your eyes?" She asked in her sweet, mousy voice.

"Oh... I... uh, it's a long story." I blundered, feeling a blush creep up the back of my neck. Her smile broadened.

"I hope it doesn't hurt," Anna said, touching just above my eyebrow tenderly. It was like a thousand sparklers had been lit inside my belly. "It makes you look cute, like a little racoon."

"Uh, thank you. And it doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"I'm glad," a blush appeared on her pretty cheeks. "So, Jules, I, um, wanted to know if you would like to get a coffee with my sometime after class.." Her words hung in my ears like a dream

"Yes!" I said, much too loud. "I mean... sure, that would be great." I smiled like an idiot. She smiled back.

"Good! Well, see you later then, Jules." Anna walked away, and I stood there for a while, stunned by my streak of good luck, until I realized I still had one more class and hurried off.

On the way home I could have skipped. It was only when I reached my front door when I had remembered the talk with my dad. I paled. Slowly, I unlocked the door, dreading what was to come.