Eh, some of this is cool, and some of this is mostly filler. Stick with it please! Pretty please with a cherry on top?

X

I stared dumbstruck at Coach Boomer, but he was oblivious to the outcries in the room as insults and exclamations were thrown around.

"Whiner babies! Go with your partner to a spot in the gym and start talking about your powers. Believe me, even if you have the same 'power' it still varies on technique. That's why we are here. To develop our powers." We all stood around looking at the ground, muttering. "What was that?"

Everyone's eyes snapped open and as one we all said, "Yes Coach Boomer!" We all scuttled away, and Warren followed me to the first bleacher where we sat side by side. He gave me plenty of personal space, which I liked.

"Okay then, well, what's up with your power? My mom has had a ban on powers since I was ten, so I could probably learn a lot."

He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. "A ban on powers? How did that work?"

"I don't know. When I was little, I didn't have a lot of control, so I barely ever left the house. Once I was able to control the random bursts of fire, I could read minds. Once I could control that, I was never allowed to practice. If I did, I was punished severely."

Anyway, when I left the house, I always went places with my sister, because my powers were so completely linked to my temper, probably like yours. She was the only one who could talk me down. When I asked my mom to practice, she grounded me for even mentioning my powers. Whenever we went to my grandma's house, she would help me because she's pyrokinetic as well, but soon my mom found out and the trips stopped. My uncle Chris is a mind reader, and every year on my birthday, he helps me out. My mom still hasn't found out."

When I met Eric, it was so weird to meet another mind reader besides Chris. I didn't really know how to handle it. I was in my uncle's mind since I was eleven, so it was just so unfamiliar. And my grandma is like seventy-five, so her powers are a little weak. I think I could really learn a lot from you."

Warren followed my monologue with curiosity. As soon as I finished, he ran his hands through his hair.

"Well then. When I was little, before my dad was put away," his eyes darkened substantially, "he would force me to practice until my backyard was blazing. I was pretty good, but after he left, I started practicing when it felt right, and soon enough, I was developing my power when I was ready for it. For so long, it felt like all my dad wanted was my power, not me. When he was taken, I felt so in-control. It was amazing." His eyes had glassed over as he delved into his memory, and he blinked a few times before glancing back at me.

"So that's my story. Wait, couldn't you have just read my mind?"

I shook my head. "No, and for two reasons. Reason one, I like to have permission, or at least a sure reason. I don't do it for pure amusement, well… once. But that was few years ago. Anyway, reason two, I kind of already tried to look into your mind and it nearly killed half my brain cells. I was wondering if you were mad at me for some reason, but as soon as I tried to pull down my mental blocks, it felt like someone tried to cut off my skull with a rusty spoon. So I learned my lesson." He cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay. Well, let's start out with something basic. You have a change of gym clothes right."

I nodded warily. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "In case you burn them off." I shook my head and we both stood up.

"Okay so start with a flame on your fingers, then your hands, then your wrists, up your arms, then torso, then legs. Concentrate on your emotion to move the flame, and try to keep the flame from burning your clothes. It is possible, I promise. Oh, and nothing above the neck just quite yet."

I tried to keep from hyperventilating, and as soon as I was pretty calm, I did as Warren said. The flame started at my fingertips, traveled over my knuckles, up my wrist, and got all the way up to my elbow. I clenched my jaw in concentration and told the flame to move up my arm, but leave my clothes un-touched. It was actually pretty easy to call up enough anger and embarrassment to move the fire to cover my torso. And I didn't feel any of my clothes being burnt yet.

The fire became a hot blanket, and I forced it down to my hips. I was so exhausted, but I knew that I would never get this far again. I pushed myself, and soon I felt the heat creeping down to my exposed thighs and knees. I squeezed my eyes tight and forced the flames lower, lower, and lower. Each inch was becoming more and more agonizing. It reached the top of my ankles, and I called up some painful memories for the home stretch.

George Hamilton humiliating me in front of the entire crowd at the Valentine's Day dance in the seventh grade.

Another inch.

My skirt dropping during recess in the second grade.

Another inch.

Harry Foreman putting ice cream down the front of my shirt two summers ago.

Another inch.

Getting my period at a pool party last year.

The last inch.

My eyes flew open and I glanced down at my flaming body. A few other people were staring at me, the human torch, and Warren had a satisfied smirk on my face. I sucked all the fire back into my body, sure to not burn my clothes, and started grinning like a mad woman.

"That was awesome!" I was practically jumping up and down, and Warren shook his head.

"Okay, coverage, check. Let's think about heat. Flame in the palm of your hand. Focus on the size, and keep it small. Keep pushing flame into the enclosed space and it will up the heat."

I held out my hand and put a small fire in the middle. I called up more humiliating moments and forced them in my hand. The flame glowed brighter and it was wavering wildly, but it kept a small form. I kept pushing and pushing, and the flame was white with small blotches of blue every once in a while. Warren rested two of his fingers in my palm, and he tilted his head slightly, thinking.

"Eh, about two thousand Fahrenheit. Go hotter." I pulled up more embarrassing and angering moments, and the flame turned a little purple, and I was really tired. "Okay about five thousand. Stop."

I shook my head. "No, I want to see how hot I can go." I squeezed my eyebrows together and focused on the flame, using my will alone to make it brighter. I glowed so hot it hurt my eyes, and something just snapped. The flame exploded, and I had enough will left to tell it not to burn Warren or I. The fire evaporated quickly, and I collapsed onto the bleachers.

"That's what happens when you go too hot. It wears you down. If I was to attack you now, you wouldn't be much of a fight." He smirked down at me and I flipped him off, breathing hard.

"Damn that hurt. What next?" He handed me an ice-pack and I put it on the back of my neck. It lasted for about a minute before it was back to liquid.

"You are going to rest. Otherwise, you'll flame out, and that is so not fun. In the meantime, you are going to tell me how you can shape your flames." I sighed and leaned back a little.

"Okay, but it might take a few days." He shrugged.

"So. We're stuck in this gym for over an hour every day for the rest of the year. What else are we going to do?"

I sighed again. "Okay picture a small animal in your mind, like a snake or a bird or something. Now light up your palm, and blow on it, like a flamethrower. Let the flames grow out into the air, and keep the image in your thoughts. In your mind, shape the flames like clay. Like they are pliable and solid."

Warren blew on the flame and was able to keep it in the air for a good part of ten seconds before it evaporated. He tried again, and was able to keep it up for about thirty seconds. Then he could keep it up for about a minute. He frowned, and tried again, this time keeping it up long enough for him to start shaping. It fell out, and he wasn't disappointed, oh no, he was pissed. He took in a big breath, and the flame stayed up without wavering. He closed his eyes and shaped with his mind until he had a basic bird shape before it fell out.

His eyes were totally black now in anger, this irises melding with the pupils. He took another good breath and it stayed again. He shaped it again, and it started to look like an awesome hawk. In his mind's eye, he started the beak, then the face, then the neck, then the body, then outstretched wings, then the claws suspended in mid air. He opened his eyes and smirked. His concentration fell, and then so did the bird. His eyes glowed with fury.

He turned away from me, towards the side wall, and wound up like a baseball pitcher. He threw a rather large fireball towards the wall, and it smashed into one of the pillars, breaking off some parts and lighting them on fire.

The bell rang, and he stormed out.

I did tell him that it might take a while.

I hurried after him towards the lockers. He wasn't at his, so I just sighed, grabbed my stuff for English, and headed down the hall. I walked into the room a little early, and there were a bunch of desks that were empty in the back. I sat in the far left corner, and put a notebook on the desk next to mine, just in case Warren was in this class.

He was, but after taking a look at him and removing my notebook, I wasn't sure I wanted to sit by him. He walked slowly, like predator stalking prey, and slammed his books on the desk before sliding in. I knew that now was not the time to make chit-chat, so I faced forward and was greeted by a friendly face when Eric took the spot in front of me. He winked at me and faced toward the teacher. I opened up my mental shields.

What's up Kendra?

Oh not much. Just dealing with an extremely pissed off pyro. No biggie.

Really? Big bad Warren is enraged. Who would've guessed? I sensed the dry sarcasm in his mental voice. By the way, why is he sitting by you? I though y'all were destined to be mortal enemies or something like that.

I have no idea. I was staring at his arms on the bus through a reflection off the window…

He interrupted my thoughts. Oh my gosh, those arms! I nearly swooned when he walked into school. Anyway, continue.

So, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was staring, somehow he caught it, then he passed me a note in Science. I sent him a brief mental run through of the notes contents, and he almost fell off the seat in excitement. The teacher turned towards us, and I was the picture of innocence, pretending to take notes. She turned back to the notes on the board, and Eric righted himself.

Oh em gee! You were totally flirting. And he was flirting back! I envy you… And way to go on the ass thing, I mean, not that you wrote it, of course, but that you had enough of a memorable ass that he wrote about it. You get what I mean, right?

I mentally laughed. Yeah I get it. Thanks. Anywho, I forgot to listen yesterday, what's your last name?

Berkley. Why?

I just make a conscious effort to learn all my friend's names. Would you… Oh crap. She wants me to answer something. What was the question?

What's the difference between a synonym and a metaphor?

"A synonym uses like or as two compare two things, and a metaphor just directly compares them." She nodded, and moved to another student with the next question.

So, again, would you like to sit by me at lunch?

Sorry Kendra, I have to see someone in the office about my locker, the piece of crap that it is. Tomorrow?

My hopes fell and I tried to sound casual when I answered. Uh, yeah, sure. That's cool. I slid my mental shield back up and began to take notes for the rest of the horrendous hour and fifteen minutes.

The bell rang, and everyone sighed in relief as we made our way back to our lockers. I nodded at Eric, and went to my own locker to retrieve the lunch I threw together this morning. The table I was at yesterday was free, and I quickly understood why.

Warren was sitting at the opposite end from where I sat yesterday, and a group of girls openly stared from two tables away. Everyone else looked scared out of their minds when they passed by him.

So, was I to go with the flow and sit at one of the other packed tables?

Or was I going to shove my nose in the air, give a little swing to my hips, and sit by the rebel?

What do you think?