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The beginning of a new week. A day that everyone dreads. That worldly disliked, Monday. After sleeping in for two days in a row, it comes barging into your life unsympathetically, punches you in the face and laughs at you as you sluggishly prepare for school. Everything about it is horrible. Then comes the best part of Monday’s life. The moment when you realized you had…

“Homework,” Mr. Turner announced. These words were supposed to grab the attention of the class and regardless of what kind of student you were, they did. “If you will, please take out the homework I assigned you to complete over the weekend,” he ran his hands through his thinning black hair, then into his suit pockets.
My stomach twisted. ‘We had homework!?’ I grew a little nervous as I thought to myself. ‘Well… How hard could it have been? This is English class after all,’ pulling a black hair band off my wrist; I wrapped my wavy, brown hair up.
“Hey, Holly!” my friend Elizzabeth called to me as she made her way to the seat next to mine. “What’s up?”
I let out a small nervous giggle and half smiled. “I didn’t do my homework,” I squeaked. “I had to go to hospital again,” I laughed and shrugged it off. It wasn’t really a big deal; I often went to the clinic for tests and such. “Y’know, the usual stuff.”

Two years ago, when I was sixteen, I suffered from severe headaches. They would come and go without warning and pound on my brain for days at a time. The pain was so bad that I was bedridden for those periods. It didn’t take long for my adopted parent to realize that those days were putting my grades in jeopardy. So, I was taken to the hospital. The first couple times the doctors dismissed my mother and me, claiming they would pass. But when they didn’t, that’s when the doctors took an interest. Doing countless tests, they tried to figure out why I was cursed with such pain. They weren’t able to figure out what triggered the headaches, why they stayed for the time period they did, or even a pattern to their attacks. What they did do was give me some “strong headache medicine” as they called it, which would suppress the pain, and sent me away. The medication worked. Whatever it was.

So this weekend, I was called back to my specialist’s office for a check-up. Of course, being a specialist, he just had to live far away from where I did. Friday mom and I spent driving there, Saturday I was poked with a few needles, tossed through some CAT scans and told I was fine and could go home. So Sunday we spent driving home.

The class of teens were blabbering on about their weekends. Talking about whose party was the best and how wasted they got. “I’ve decided there’ll be a pop quiz today,” Mr. Turner said in his loud, deep ‘I’m-serious-now’ voice. Being a short, tubbier man, he often found himself having to use this voice. It worked every time
Side conversations still going, the students scuffled back to their own desks. I glanced at Lizz and she flashed me a reassuring smile, but I knew it was pointless. This teacher always picked on me. I followed the actions of everyone else, closing my binder and placing everything under my desk.
“First,” Mr. Turner cleared his throat. “Let’s start real’ simple. What was the homework I assigned?” scanning the room and trying to make eye contact with each 24 students, he seemed to be searching for the weak. “Mr. Rafael Davis, would you care to enlighten us?”
The class instantly shut up. Rafael signed and ran his slender hands through his short auburn hair. He was the cool kid of the class. He had transferred from an unknown school to this one about a year and a half ago. He was the boy that everyone wanted to talk to, but no one had the guts to. “We were supposed to read Rwanda Hilton, we were not?” he briefly glanced at me. The class was still, not a single spoke while he did. He had this air about him that demanded the world to look when he walked, and listen when he spoke.
“Very good,” Mr. Turner nodded, and searched for another student.
While he looked for another student to pick on, my anxiety grew. Sweating, I nervously tapped my pencil against my leg, while trying to perfectly balance ‘making eye contact’ and ‘not making eye contact’ with the teacher. ‘Holly Daniels… If you will,’ I mentally quoted his words before they even left his mouth, knowing he was going to pick me.
“What was this poem about?” he paused for a moment. “Ah! Ms. Holly Daniels, if you will,” my name seemed to just… Roll off his tongue.
My heart leapt into my throat, beating loudly. I swallowed hard. It was almost like he knew I hadn’t done my homework, giving me an easy question like that. I couldn’t even guess the answer. Sitting there awkwardly, feeling the entire class and his eyes on me, I felt sick to my stomach. “I…” I couldn’t think of anything. My classmates started to whisper, all comments seemed to be about me. Then suddenly, a sharp ringing in my ears shut their voices up. It was high pitched and loud. It stung. I shut my eyes quickly and covered my ears, clenching my jaw together to endure the pain only I could hear.
“Ms. Daniels...?” Mr. Turner tried to coax an answer out of me
While others scoffed at my lack of words, Rafael leaned forward on his desk. His eyes were glistening with anticipation, as if waiting for something.
“Holly?” Lizz’s eyes were filled with fear. I may have been hospitalized often, but, never in our four years of friendship had I acted like this. She looked around and noticed the same thing a few other students had. The pencils and pens… They were floating above the air.
The ringing stopped. Replacing it was that unmistakable throbbing feeling in my skull, and voices. First there was only one voice. It mumbled the word ‘ike’, and before I even had time to realize it wasn’t an English word, two new voices appeared, both chanting something unrecognizable. The voices kept multiplying until finally I couldn’t take it. That’s when a female voice shrieked in my head, and all else went silent.
Lizz was split moments from resting her hand on my shoulder consolingly, when I also let out a blood curdling scream. “I don’t KNOW!” the classroom lights flicked off then back on again and the pens and pencils propelled themselves towards the teacher. I jumped up from my seat and stared at what had just happened. T pencils had embedded themselves into the wall behind the fear stricken, Mr. Turner.
Students stared, shocked and spellbound by my actions. Tears threatened my emerald eyes as I realized I had done it again. Even though I had been given a fair warning, I let my emotions get out of control. Before anyone could grab me, call the principal or worse… Call my parents, I ran. My legs carried me quickly out of the classroom and down the hallway. I heard Lizz call after me, but I didn’t turn around, stop or even slow down.
These incidents had been occurring periodically over the past year and the last time this happened, I had sent a female student to the ER. I smashed a locker door against her face, without touching it. My parents threatened to send me to a Psychiatric Hospital the next time it happened, claiming it was “for my own good”.
Ten feet from the school exit I hear a familiar voice call my name. “Holly,” it calmly demanded my attention. My footsteps slowed. “Holly, stop…” like my favorite song, the vocals soothingly embraced me, my pace paused in mid-step. Turning, I quickly was able to put a face to the voice I was hearing.
“Rafael?!” I blinked the tears from my eyes, heart still pounded loudly in my ear as I pushed away from him to run. When I did that, he grabbed my wrist and spun me around on the dot. His other hand swiftly acted, cradling my chin while his eyes captured my gaze. For a moment, I found myself becoming lost in his eyes. They were light brown, but so light that they were practically a golden colour… ‘No!’ I mentally shook my head and tried to run again.
“It’s useless, Holly Daniels,” he signed as he lightly shook my wrist and twisted my chin to face him. “You don’t have much time. I’m going to tell you a series of ridiculous sounding things and you’re going to listen to me,” his eyes had a strong connection to mine and regardless of the signals my brain sent to my body, it would not move. I felt helpless. “This isn’t the way I was hoping to tell you, so forgive me for being so blunt.”
The following sentence rendered me speechless. According to Rafael – Who was apparently half incubus – I was telekinetic. The headaches were side effects of my developing powers. The school he transferred from was one for the psychologically off-beat people, super humans, as some address them. Rafael was requested to find me and offer me the safety the school he came from had to offer.
“Time is precious,” Rafael ran his hands over his face then looked back at me. “Look, I really don’t want to see you get sent to a Psych Ward, you’re not sick like they would think you are. You’d be safe in a school surrounded by similar people to yourself.”
“How… Do… I know you’re not lying?” the words slowly dripped out of my mouth, I couldn’t seem to catch a single hint of a lie on his face.
Footsteps started to close in from behind us. As Rafael opened the nearest door, he tossed me a cellphone. “Press call,” he commanded, pulling me along behind him as we exited the school.
Ring, ring, rin – “Hello? Rafael?” a professional sounding female voice inquired. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, but apparently that was enough. Because during the moment’s pause we shared she figured it all out. “Ah! Holly Daniels,” my stomach flipped. ‘She knows my name!’ the thought flickered through my pounding head. I pressed my free hand to my temple and listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “You’ve decided to accompany Rafael Davis back to Prestige Academy, yes?”
“I… Yes,” at that moment I decided nothing seemed worse that getting in trouble from school, adopted parents, then being sent away to hospital for crazy people. I looked at Rafael. He seemed relieved with my choice. So did the lady on the phone. She formally dismissed the call and within moments a car was stopped in front of the school.
I followed behind Rafael as he reassured me with words I had longed to hear for as long as I could remember. “You’re not alone. We’ll help you control your headaches and powers. You’ll be considered normal where we’re going,” he smiled genuinely, “Don’t worry, Holly.”