I. Am. So. Happy. sobs! I wrote (and finished)this chapter 3 weeks agoand the day that I was going to do some final checks and post it... My. Computer. Went. Down. I am so incomplete without my internet! sob but here it is, three weeks late: the (fifth?) chapter of Mirage of the truth! (I'm on a C2 community, and to whoever put me on it thank you so much! it's an honor!) (oh, and sorry it's so short)
Since my high school days, I have learned that the best way to deal with being different is to flaunt it and live your life with different as a ruling factor, regardless what the rest of the world thinks. Unfortunately at the age of sixteen, I hated the fact that I had powers. It made me different, something that my looks already managed to do quite effectively. Back then I tried desperately to fit in and to draw as little attention to my beauty as I possibly could. I dressed plainly and begged for desks in the back corners of the classes where I spent my time trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. My teachers always raised an eyebrow at such requests but were usually happy to oblige; I was, to my dismay, a fantastic student.
In this way, I managed to fit in. I realize now that such precautions in hiding my appearance were perhaps unnecessary but the precautions I took to hide my powers however ghastly were completely necessary. It didn't take me long to discover that human nature dictated that a certain level of different can lead to ridicule and discomfort, while a greater level of different can lead to consequences far worse. When people don't understand they fear and hate, so if a small person in society had say… super powers (as an obscure example) the rest of society would see this person as an obviously superior being and therefore a threat. I will not insult the reader's intelligence by saying how society deals with threats.
In this constant crippling fear, the only person that I ever trusted enough to tell about my powers was my late mother. In other words, I was the only person in the world who knew of a little fair-haired super running around. I never told anyone, not even Richard, about my abhorred yet strangely exhilarating powers.
The reason I mention this is because my powers had been acting up in strange and terrifying ways. I was creating mirages when I never meant to; which lead to suspicions about my true nature, and silent investigations by nosy people. I was called up to the office once to investigate the sudden appearance of a very large and agitated Billy goat in the middle of the basketball courts (an explanation neither can nor will be provided). They had no way of proving that I had somehow influenced it to appear and disappear into thin air, but I was among the few in the gym at they time, and oddly enough they had their suspicions. I felt I could not deal with something like this on my own, so after twenty minutes of questioning, I hurried home to spill everything to Richard, my surrogate father. I knew that if I couldn't trust Richard, I couldn't trust anyone.
I stood outside the door to our modest apartment gathering the strength to spill my secrets to Richard. I knew that if I took my time and beat around the bush it would never happen. I burst through the door.
"Richard I-"
"Lika, what are you doing home so late?" The words died in my throat the moment they were intercepted.
"Um…" I faltered, "I went for late lunch with some friends. I apologize for not calling. I- I ran out of quarters" lies. Lies. Lies. Richard just smiled. I would be spared the scolding just for having friends. Erm, imaginary friends. I crossed the living room to get to my room but stopped halfway to the hall. If I didn't confess now (confess… see what guilt I associated with my powers?) then I would never have the courage to do so again. "Richard?" I said tentatively
"Yes?" He looked up from his newspaper.
"D- do you remember the supers?" I watched with dismay as Richards features darkened.
"Ugh" he said, "those prancing spandex wearing narcissists? Yeah, I remember them. They always seemed to think they were better than anyone else. They hardly even cared about all the danger they put everyone in. If I was the government, I'd have all of them locked up. Every single one of them." he sniffed and looked back at his paper until he seemed to remember that I had been the one to bring up the subject. "What about the supers?" He said absently. I tried desperately to make my question seem offhand.
"Oh, In school we um…I always kind of admired them. That's all." He looked up from his paper for the umpteenth time and smiled indulgently at me.
"Of course you did, Anzhelika, you were a child." I didn't return the smile, and walked slowly to my room dragging my leaden stomach with me. It looked like I couldn't trust anyone.
Knowing I had to depend entirely on my own resources from now on, I managed to avert the blame onto a prestigious member of the FFA. By the time they finally realized that his specialty was cows, they had completely lost interest in me. Of course it didn't hurt that Mr. Malum, a certain important math teacher, was fervently backing my case. That incident is how I learned that men in power are, after all, only men.
All this happened about one year before that atrocious interview for Edna Mode's new fashion line. I hated to dwell on the past, but thinking about my sixteenth year kept me from thinking of my present situation even if the memories made me feel even more utterly alone. Sometimes I wondered if there was anyone I could trust. Richard knew not to disturb me when I was in moods like this, so when I heard a timid knock on the door, I was exasperatedly surprised.
"Come in." I said.
"Mail for you." He said merrily waving a medium sized envelope. I glared up at my guardian.
"That's what you came in here for?" He smiled mischievously.
"This I thought you'd like to see right away." I took the letter suspiciously and turned it over in my hands. My look of skepticism instantly turned to shock.
"This can't be." I whispered. "This can't be what it looks like"
It was.
I began speaking rapidly in Russian. "как сделал их... почему сделал их? сколько девочек они выбирали? кто - то заболел? Я не могу верить - о, я настолько счастлив! Я никогда не был настолько счастлив! Oh thank you Richard! Thank you thank you thank you!"
The envelope contained a ticket to Prague where the show would be held and the address of the hotel. It told me I would be contacted when I got there about the show, the line, and maybe (if I was lucky) I would meet Edna Mode
The ticket was for the next week.
I quickly packed and counted the minutes before I left, unsatisfied that it would be an entire seven days. Had I known what would come of the trip, I might not have left at all. I would have at least cherished my last few moments in that comfortable apartment, and my sweet pink room instead wishing the time to pass more quickly away.