I locked my bedroom door, turned around and dropped to the floor in front of it. If these phenomena keep happening at school, someone is going to see something they can’t explain. Banging my head against the door behind me, I imagined all of the attention I would get if that happened. I jumped to my feet with a newfound motivation and moved to my desk where I locked my eyes on a spotted coral pencil. Whatever this is, I have to try and focus it. I aimed every ounce of energy I had at it, but even my best efforts were getting me nowhere. Not even a twitch of movement.
I released the breath I was holding unintentionally and sighed in defeat. Just as I was about to give up, there was an abrupt CRASH and I let out a high pitched squeal, wincing as my heart leapt. Cautiously opening my eyes, I did a double take at the mess I had created. A layer of pencils disguised my room in a spotted coral pattern. I wiped my fingers through my hair, removing the few that had been entangled and returned to the floor with a pout.
By the time it was 9 o'clock I had experienced freak winds, flying cupcakes and even a few grazing goats, but levitation was beginning to feel almost natural to me. With my index finger to focus, I lifted a piece of chalk and scribbled out a quote of inspiration on the black board: do not fear failure, but rather fear not trying. A grin born of pride appeared on my face and I made my way to my wardrobe full of pencils to change into something comfy.
A light knock on my door made me trip over the pyjama bottoms I had halfway on. I stumbled into them as I hopped to the door knob. “Rosa?”
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“Hi dear.” The maid greeted me with a sheepish smile. “It’s your mother” My ears twitched at the thought of my mother having anything to say to me. “She wants the essay you handed in last week.” She continued as my wide eyes sunk. “They want your grade.”
I backed up hesitantly before shrugging off my disappointment with a chuckle as I made my way to my bag. “I didn’t even care enough to check myself.”
“That’s not like you.” She questioned concern in her tone.
“Who would know?” I shrugged with a defensive smile and pushed the paper at her with an outstretched arm. Taking the paper, she gave me a worried look and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something. But after a moment’s thought, she pursed her lips and exited down the corridor.
Snuggling into my cushy duvet, washing over me was both a sense of relief and a conflicted sense of condemnation. All my life I wondered why I never fit in, and now I know why there was no one to answer my questions. But even with a lack of people to care about, you never feel as lonely as when you have a secret that you're dying to share. If there was one person in the world I could have confided in, it would have been Sammy. I couldn't have even contemplated telling my parents. If they actually bothered to listen, I wouldn't have been able to finish my first sentence before they'd be making arrangements to get me carted off to the loony bin. And yet I waste so much thought on them. So many hours I spend thinking about people that don't acknowledge my existence for more than 20 seconds a day.
Focusing on my newfound abilities seemed far more logical than sickening myself with anxiety over them. So I forced my concentration to divert back towards the only interesting thing that has ever happened to me. As I rolled to the side with a smirk, excitement began festering as if it were Christmas Eve, with the anticipation of letting Sammy in on the recent extraordinary occurrence in my normally mundane life.