The first time it happened I was fourteen years old. I didn't know it at the time, but what was happening to me was something that would change my life forever. It all really began when I made some jerks explode. You heard me right, explode. I guess I should start at the beginning, my name is Malum Moore and this is my story.
It was always been just me and my mom even since I can remember. My dad was never in the picture, he died when I was only a baby. Oh sure my mom told me stories about him growing up, but I've never had the chance to meet the man. Everyone always pities me when they hear about him and give me their condolences and promises that "they're here for me" if I ever want to talk. The truth is, though, that I don't really think about him that often. To me he's just a story, I don't know what he looks like or even his name. My mom was always very creative in her descriptions of him, and never actually gave me a straight answer about what he was like. I've just never really had much to miss I suppose. It's me and my mom against the world, and that's the way I like it.
I've never had a lot of friends but it doesn't really bother me. I never thought I would really need anyone other than my mom. Until recently I had no reason to think anything would ever happen to her, and so I never minded that, once again, it was just me and her. I always thought the reason I couldn't connect with other kids was because they were just immature and I was too smart for them. I couldn't have been further from the truth.
I can't remember when exactly it began, but I know that is was around my twelfth birthday when I finally noticed it. I had always had a little trouble with bullies, I never could keep my mouth shut around them. My teachers all said I was troublesome and looked for fights. My mom said I was just impulsive and needed to learn to control myself better. But the truth was, I didn't get into fights because of my short temper - well it may have played a small part - or because I went looking for it. The main reason was, I simply couldn't stand back and watch others get hurt. I know a lot of you will make fun of me for it, oh he's such a little goody-two-shoes, but it's the truth. Watching others gang up on someone just for being different or strange made me want to strangle someone - usually the bully.
So when I was walking home, for the first time since spring break, and saw a group of older kids pushing around one of the little ones, I immediately stepped in. Part of it may have been that I used to be picked on - before I proved that I could give as good as I got - but it was mostly the fact that my mom had always raised me with a strong sense of right and wrong, and I knew that what they were doing was wrong.
A little boy no older than seven was being thrown around by three kids, all boys, who were at least twice his age. I stepped in front of the boy and blocked the shove that was aimed at him. The older kids all stopped at looked at me incredulously. The biggest one, whom I recognized as Dylan Smith, the class bully, stepped forward.
"And just what do you think you're doing Moore?"
"Leave him alone, Dylan." I growled, "he hasn't done anything."
"Aww, come on we were just having a little fun" he laughed. "Ain't that right James?"
The boy, now identified as James, stuttered back a reply. "Ya, ju-just a game, you know." He was shaking and obviously terrified of Dylan and his cronies. I felt a hot anger rise in me as I took in his black eye and split lip, and all the books and papers scattered on the ground. I clenched my fists to stop myself from doing something I'd regret. Count to ten my mom always said. 1. . . 2 . . . 3. . .
"Aww is little Malum scared?" Dylan's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Don't worry we won't hurt you. . . much. Just run along now and we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. I'm sure mommy's just waiting for you at the door. Or maybe not, I hear she's very popular with the men these days." He started laughing uproariously, soon followed by his two goons.
And just like that something inside me snapped. It was one thing to insult me, but it was no one gets away with talking about my mom like that. Without thinking I threw out my hands, palms facing Dylan and his gang, and screamed. What happened next I was completely unprepared for. I felt something within me rise up and suddenly all three boys were thrown at least ten feet back before they hit the hard earth beneath them. It was as if they were caught in an explosion. My first thought was great, if I already wasn't enough of a freak, now I'm a human bomb.
I stumbled back from the scene as Dylan and his friends scrambled up, trembling.
"Yo-you'll pay for that Moore!" He threatened weakly, his voice quavering.
I opened my mouth to speak, to apologize, anything to get me out of this mess but nothing came out. I closed it and tried again, but still no words were spoken. What was I supposed to say, how was I supposed to explain what happened when I didn't even know myself? I took a step forward, to do what I don't know, try to articulate what my words couldn't I suppose, but the three quickly backed up stumbling over themselves.
"St-stay away from us," one of the goons yelled. His face was white with terror and his voice clearly shook as he spoke. With that, they all turned tail and ran. I stood, frozen in place, still not really comprehending what had just taken place. Suddenly I remembered why I was there in the first place and quickly spun around looking for the little boy who Dylan was bullying.
"James?" I called when I didn't see anyone, "James!" However only silence greeted me and I realized he must have run off after my little performance with Dylan and his gang. I had always preferred solitude to large crowds, but alone with these new, powers I suppose would be the only thing to call it, for once I wasn't sure if it was a good thing.