I must admit, I'd completely forgotten about this fic. Oh well.

Disclaimer: I am currently talking on MSN, not writing FEAR. No, I'm not Michael Grant.

This was going disastrously. Everyone was so hell-bent on eradicating the mutants that I dreaded to think what they would do to me if my secret was revealed. Would they hunt me down? Would they kill me? Exile me? I doubted they'd go easy on me, even if I was the most anti-freak person there was.

But, I having powers didn't make me a bad person, did it? I'm still the same person I was last night, the same person I always have been. It's not like I've used my powers for selfish reasons, or to hurt anyone. I don't show mine off, or use them to strike fear into people. Unlike Sam, who finds any excuse to go all laser-hands on everyone. He even makes these little balls of light for people! Granted, we'd be sitting in the dark otherwise, but he shouldn't be showing off like that. Anyway, nobody even likes them because they're green, and they just remind us of his abnormality. The weirdness of our situation.

My followers were still yelling insults, still ranting on. These meetings never really had much order to them. I looked to Lance, who was staring intently at me, as if he was trying to figure something out.

I looked around, then back to him. He was still looking at me. I mean, I know I'm attractive and everything, but did he have to keep looking at me? There wasn't any food on my face or in my teeth- nobody would waste food like that-, and my t-shirt wasn't inside out or anything.

"Why are you staring at me?" I grunted.

"No reason," Lance said quickly, looking away.

I wondered what was up with him.

"Zil!" called out someone.

"What?" I said bitterly, though inside I was paranoid and a bit frightened, not that I would ever tell anybody. I really needed to stop worrying; how could anybody have found out? The only person possible of knowing was Lance, and he hadn't had the chance to tell anyone.

"These meetings are so BORING! All we do is rant about how much we hate freaks and how they should be punished, but we never actually do anything about it," the person said, stepping forward. She was a girl, about thirteen, with auburn hair, tied in a plait. She had a large, pale scar running down her left cheek that I didn't want to ask about. In her hand she was clutching a small metal pipe. Nobody ever left without a weapon, not any more.

I hated to admit it, but she was right. There wasn't any point to these 'meetings'. We talked about destroying freaks, but that was it. If someone had the power to talk someone to death, there would be no freaks left. These meetings had as much point as an alcoholic going to one of those 'alcoholics anonymous' meetings, but going out and getting drunk afterwards. He might as well have not gone to the meeting.

"You're absolutely right, Monica," I said, suddenly remembering her name. "We need to go out and TEACH THOSE FREAKS A LESSON! Who's with me?"

Everyone cheered 'YEAH!' in unison. All was going well so far.

"We need to go up to Sam right no-" I began, but then was interrupted by moans. Okay, maybe I was going a bit too far. There was no way we could take on Sam; he would obliterate us instantly. "Okay, not Sam. What about that wimp, Jack?"

People seemed happier than that.

"Right! Let's go!"

Everyone cheered and started to follow me out of the car park, that didn't actually have any cars in as cars didn't work any more (no gas). I didn't admit that I had no clue where Jack lived.

"Wait one second," Lance snarled, loud enough for everyone to hear. I stopped dead, then cautiously turned around. He had an evil look in his eye, and I was very concerned, worried, that he knew something...

"I need to tie my shoelace," he said, with mock innocence. I looked down, and his laces were indeed undone. "You'll have to wait for me to do them before you can go off on your little freak hunt."

Lance bent down, and began to fumble about with his white, frayed laces. The laces had almost came completely in the shoe, and the ends were so frayed that they wouldn't even fit in the little hole on the side. Lance occasionally kept muttering curses, and how he hated his laces, and that shoes would just tie themselves.

Honestly.

How many fourteen year olds couldn't tie their shoes? It was ridiculous. Why did we have to wait for him to tie his stupid shoes? He was a fast runner, he could easily catch us up. Ugh. I wish he would hurry up and tie his goddamn shoes—

Oh no.

I looked at Lance's shoes. They were tied, with huge loopy bows. And wearing the shoes was a very unhappy blond.

"Well, well, well, my shoes are all tied," Lance sneered, folding his arms. "The funny thing is, I don't even remember tying them. Frank, do you?" Lance asked the small ginger boy next to him. He shook his head nervously. "Interesting. It was almost like they tied by themselves, like magic, like a freak had done it."

I gulped.

"Now I know for sure that I'm not a freak, and everyone else here isn't a freak..."

Oh no.

"I swear I'm not a freak! I don't have the power to tie shoelaces with my mind, and that is NOT what I did this morning," I panicked.

Oh shoot.

"It's funny, I never mentioned anything about this morning, or you having that particular power."

No, no, no. A million times no...

"HE'S A FREAK! GET HIM!"

I've never ran faster.