Angel Dumott Schunard was about 16 when he first found out that he was different. Well, in more ways then one. He'd never really been into sports, much to his father's dismay. His father hated the fact that his son would rather watch a movie or read than go out and play some football.
Angel and his father had never really gotten along. His father didn't like that Angel was so...feminine. He didn't want to get stuck with a gay son-so he would try and force Angel to change. Beatings and and getting screamed at were a regular thing for Angel. He just learned to keep quiet and tried to be as invisible to his father as possible.
Then something...strange happened to him one day. He had come home from school and saw that his father was waiting for him. Angel's mind raced as he tried to think of the things he could have done. He'd put away make-up, the skirts, and the wig...what was left. That's when he saw them; his black high heeled pumps. He groaned inwardly. How could he have forgotten that?
He father was yelling something with his mother as Angel approached. His father stopped mid-sentence and went over to Angel. "What is this?" He spat out.
Angel shrugged. "I don't know."
His father backhanded him across the face and said, "Don't you lie to me!"
Angel's mother was there in a heartbeat. "Don't take this out on him! He said he didn't know!" And they went on yelling while Angel tried to recover. His face was stinging and he was sure to have a bruise there by tomorrow--if not sooner. Clutching his face, he backed against the wall.
He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he was invisible. May be if he tried hard enough, they would forget he was here. "Angel?! Where the hell did that boy go?" He heard his father yell.
Angel's eyes snapped open. Was his father hallucinating? Angel was right here, where he'd always been. "I'm right here," he said, knowing that if he left, it only made things worse for himself later. But even as he was saying it, his father didn't respond to him. His face was starting to get red, the way it does when he gets extremely upset.
May be he just doesn't see me over here, he reasoned with himself. So he walked right up to his parents and tried again. "I didn't go anywhere--" he stopped mid-sentence. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He wasn't there. He walked right up to it--still no sign Angel in that mirror. What was happening to him?
He started to panic and ran upstairs into his room. He shut the door and sat down on his bed. He thought back to how he had tried to focus on not being invisible. But that couldn't have been it--could it? No. Of course not, that was ridiculous. None-the-less, he focused on not being invisible any more. He looked up into his mirror, sighing with relief when he saw himself in the mirror.
He laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. That could never happen again. He was already made fun of and hated because he was gay and then you add this...this--he didn't even know what it was. Things would just get a whole lot worse. Angel decided right there to forget about what had happened and never look back on it again.
--
Tom Collins groaned as he heard his mother nag him again about getting things done around the house. He didn't see why she couldn't do something once in a while! She didn't work; she didn't have to because of the huge child support check from his father that came every month.
He groaned and got up and went into the kitchen. His little brothers and sisters would be getting up soon and would be hungry. He walked to the fridge cursing silently as he stepped on a lego. As much as he loved his brothers and sisters, six siblings were just too much to handle!
He opened the fridge, taking out the carton of eggs and some bacon. He set that stuff on the counter and went and got two frying pans. As he was starting to prepare breakfast, his little six year old brother Dylan came into the kitchen. "Whatcha doing Tommy?" He asked his other brother.
Collins, which is what he preferred to be called rolled his eyes at that name. "I'm just making breakfast," he said as he started making the eggs in the frying pan.
"I'll help you," Dylan offered.
Collins shook his head as he went to go and get some dishes. "No Dylan. You're too young to--" he turned around as he saw his little brother reach for the handle of the frying pan. The frying pan was falling off the hot stove, eggs and all. His brother was about to get burned!
He started for them, wishing to everything that it would just stop falling. He flung his hands out in frustration and then...everything stopped. The pan stopped falling, his brother stopped moving. What the...?
Collins went into the living room where his mother was. He was startled to see her not moving and neither was the television. He ran to the front door, flinging it open. He gasped, seeing cars on the street not moving. There was a woman jogging, but was stopped mid jog.
He went back inside, closing the door. Had he caused this? No...he couldn't have. Could he? He went back into the kitchen. Everything was still motionless. He went and picked up the pan, carefully setting it back on the stove. How had he done this?
He remembered he flicked his hands--that might have been it. He decided to try. He shut his eyes, as he flicked his hands and wrists. "Tommy!? What are you doing?"
Collins opened his eyes and smiled seeing Dylan moving again. "N-nothing." he stammered out. This wouldn't happen again. Forget about it--don't think about this.
He turned around and got back to his everyday life, pushing this incident farther and farther back in his mind.
--
Roger Davis groaned. He did not feel well today. His stomach was killing him. It felt like it was twisting and churning around. His head was throbbing and to top it all off, he had a fever. A really bad one too. He was so hot and couldn't stop sweating.
His mother came into his room. "Sweetie...are you okay?" She asked her son gently.
Roger nodded. "Yeah...it's just a bug. I know there's a lot of these things going around school. I'll be fine after I get a little more rest." He told her. The last thing he wanted was for her to take him to the doctor.
She nodded. "Okay Roger, whatever you say." She said and got up to leave. "I'll be at work, don't hesitate to call, okay?"
Roger just nodded and rolled over on his side, trying to get some more sleep. He heard his mother leave the room and then he heard the front door slam shut. He smiled, contentedly to himself. She was gone--he was alone.
He flipped back onto his back, knowing full well he'd never get any more sleep. Not now anyways. He got up out bed, grabbed his comforter, and walked into his living room. He set himself down on the sofa, flicking on the television.
He got up a little while later, deciding that he would take a shower. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After he'd taken off his clothes and gotten a towel, he jumped into the shower. He let the cool water wash over him. He didn't know what made him think to look at his hands, but he did. They were...smoking? What was going on?
He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. No...that was just steam, he reasoned with himself as he got dressed.He glanced down at his hands. They felt different, weird almost. They were tingling or something along that line. He shook his head and chuckled at himself slightly. "Snap out of it!" He said to himself, snapping his fingers to stress his point.
He almost screamed as he saw it. There was fire...coming from his hands. He quickly snapped his fingers again, this time the fire vanishing. He slowly walked back to the couch. "Okay...I was just hallucinating. That didn't just happen. I didn't just create fire with my bare hands. Who am I kidding. I'm just a little crazy from this sickness...that's all. As soon as I'm better, this'll all go away," he said to himself, trying to forget about what had just happened.
--
Mimi Marquez was walking past her parents room. Her dad was out of town again so her mother had to deal with her. It wasn't that Mimi was a bad kid, she just...didn't take school as seriously as her parents had. She could hear her mother talking in hushed tones into the phone.
Mimi sighed and stood by her mother's door. They were no doubtedly talking about her. They were always talking about her. She wished she could hear what they were saying to each other. She put her hands on the door, trying to listen.
All of a sudden, she heard them--as if they were right there beside her having a conversation. She could hear her mother talking to her father and she could hear her father talking back.
"George, I really think this will be the only thing that might work. She needs some sort of guidance!"
"Rose I understand that and I agree, but military school? I don't think that's-"
"It's either that, boarding school, juvy, or put her up for adoption. I can't handle this anymore! She goes around looking for ways to ruin her life. I swear George--"
"Rosalie! Calm down. Fine...military school it is. We'll tell her when I get home."
Mimi let go of the door, the sounds of her parents voices vanishing almost instantly. That was real. She had made herself able to hear a phone conversation. May be...she had just imagined hearing the things she thought she heard. But before she could think about it any longer, her mother came out of her room.
"Your father will be home tomorrow night and we have some things we need to discuss. About your schooling," she said as she walked down the stairs.
Mimi shook her head to herself. No. She was 17, she had some say in what was happening to her. She ran to her room and packed up a few bags. Throwing in all her clothes in one bag. Her possessions in another. Then she grabbed her backpack. After unloading everything from that, she placed a few items in it. A few notebooks, for writing, her cd's, portable cd player, her favorite books, her photo album, and them she placed all the change and money she could find in there. She went over to her computer and looked up the price of a bus ticket from Texas to New York. She got out about 150 dollars, roughly the price of a ticked and snuck out the back door.
Surprisingly, her three bags weren't as heavy as she thought they would be. As she boarded the bus to New York, she remembered what had happened to her. How she was able to listen to their conversation by touching the door. She shook her head. She would forget it, not think of it again. Besides, right now, she had a lot more to think about than some little thing like that.
--
Joanne Jefferson had always had a temper. Not a yelling temper, but just and irritation temper. That's why her parents thought she'd be a wonderful lawyer--being as passionate as she was.
Joanne just did whatever they wanted, she honestly didn't care. She just wanted out of all the country clubs benefits, fancy dinners, the countless set-ups by her parents. She was only 18 for goodness sakes!
She smiled when she realized she'd gotten into Harvard. Her parents really wanted her to go there, and she just wanted to get away from her parents.
She was packing up her stuff one day, getting ready to leave for Harvard when her mother barged in. "Oh...Jojo! I have such good news! Guess who's son is going to Harvard too!?"
Joanne, cringed at the nickname. "Mother...I don't care! I just want to pack up my stuff in peace!" She said, her temper rising.
Her mother just laughed. "Oh, but it's the Williams boy, you know, Jonathan. You two would be perfect for each other--"
"Mother just...shut up, okay! I don't care if he's going there or not. I couldn't care less if it was the president's son going there himself!" She said. She hated when her parents tried to set her up with countless numbers of boys. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
Joanne's mother laughed. "The president doesn't have sons dear."
Joanne looked at her mother. "Mother...get out. I have a lot to do." She snapped, opening the door to her bedroom and ushering her mother out.
"Alright dear, but just remember about Jonathan!" She said smiling.
Joanne shut her door and glared at the vase across the room. How could they keep doing this to her? Why couldn't they just--
Her head snapped around as she heard something shatter. It sounded more like an explosion than a shatter. She glanced back at the vase. It was now lying in pieces on the floor. She took a deep breath. It couldn't have fallen on its own and there was nothing and no one in the room who could have made it fall like that!
She couldn't have done it-could she? No that was ridiculous. She sighed and got back to work at packing as she attempted to push that incident our of her mind.
--
Maureen Johnson's boyfriend, Todd, had just dumped her for her best friend Mandy. Well, ex-best friend now. He had told her that him and Mandy had gotten together a few months ago, but didn't know how to tell her. He'd broken her heart. More like shattered it.
That's why she was on top of the water tower. She had always been dramatic, but this was the extreme. Her mom had just up and left her and her dad and now her dad had just gotten engaged to some little prick who hated Maureen. (She wanted Maureen gone as quickly as possible. Which wouldn't be that long since Maureen was 18). But then her boyfriend dumps her?! She couldn't deal with this anymore. With out a second thought she flung herself off of the water tower landing on the ground with a crunching sound.
She hazily opened her eyes she stood up slowly. She realized she was in the same exact place. Just below the water tower she has just jumped off of. She noticed her shoulder was out of place. She quickly popped it back and then walked away, the scratches on her face healing as she walked.
She went and sat on the bench. What was happening? She had just jumped off of an 80 foot water tower, but she wasn't dead! There was literally no scratch on her. May be she was just dreaming. Yeah...that was it. Just dreaming.
She got up and walked back home. Without a word to anyone, she just climbed right into her bed, determined that this was all some freaky dream. That's all. As she fell into a deep sleep, she pushed this incident from her mind. Not thinking about it again.
--
Mark Cohen was always more quiet and reserved. Everyone just thought it was because he was shy. But that's not it. He could well...read minds. He could hear everyone else's thoughts.
He had known this since he was 14 and now he was 21. He'd been keeping this from everyone he'd known for seven years! He didn't want people to think he was crazy or something.
He knew it sounded like he was insane, but there was nothing he could do about it! He could only let it be and try to ignore it. He wished there was something he could do about it. Something to make it all go away, but he can't. He could only learn to live with it.
He was walking back to his loft when a piece of paper got stuck on his leg. It was a bright orange piece of paper. He was about to toss it when the first line struck him.
Every feel like you don't belong? Like you're different from everyone else? Do you ever wish that you could sit and talk with people just like you?
If this describes you, you should come and give this a try. We meet every Tuesday at the Community Center--
Mark didn't have to read any more. He smiled as he folded the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. He started back to the loft. He would give it a try. He could at least talk about his feelings right. He didn't even need to bring up his gift.
He continued to smile as he thought about what this meeting was supposed to be like.